The Menorah of the Beis Hamikdash - Rabbi Yaron Yitzchok Lederman shlita

00:02 Speaker 1 You’re listening to the Lema’an Yishme’u podcast from Machon Halacha Chabad.

00:09 Speaker 2 Today we’ll talk about the making of the menorah that stood in the Beis Hamikdash—the golden menorah. Today we’ll discuss the menorah itself: how it was made and what its structure was. How the service was performed with it—how it was used, how the lamps were lit, and how they were prepared according to the different opinions—that we’ll learn in the next class. So, the golden menorah. The first description of it in the Torah appears in Parshas Terumah, where Moshe Rabbeinu is told to make the golden menorah. As we know, Terumah and Tetzaveh are two separate sections: first Moshe Rabbeinu told us, and afterward Moshe Rabbeinu commanded. The menorah was the vessel through which the Beis Hamikdash was illuminated. But it says, “Does He need its light?” Hakadosh Boruch Hu does not need the light of the menorah, and that is why all the lamps faced the western lamp. We see something similar with the windows of the Beis Hamikdash. They are described as “narrow and wide,” meaning that the windows were very narrow on the inside and wide on the outside. This showed that He did not need light from outside; rather, the light was meant to shine outward. That is the purpose of the menorah, and we’ll understand some of its details. The menorah was made from a kikar of pure gold. That kikar of pure gold came from the gold donated for the Mishkan. The donations included many materials—thirteen according to some opinions, ten or twelve according to others—but first and foremost, they included gold. How much gold was donated? Twenty-nine kikarim. How much is a kikar? A kikar is calculated according to the smallest unit. As with everything in Judaism—just as the size of a kezayis later grew according to the larger measurements—so too with coinage: the smallest unit, the se’ah that made up the basic coin, determines the other denominations. So a kikar weighed at least thirty-three kilograms according to some opinions, or

02:18 Speaker 2 even fifty-six kilograms according to others. As we just explained, it all depends on the smallest unit from which the other measurements are calculated. A fifty-six-kilogram piece of gold, a gold ingot called a kikar of gold, is three thousand gold coins, as it says in the Torah. There were twenty-nine such kikarim among the donations for the Mishkan—twenty-nine, plus several hundred coins, seven hundred coins. But one of those twenty-nine kikarim was designated for the golden menorah. How much does a kikar of gold cost today? We checked an estimate: today, a kikar of gold costs 3.3 million dollars. We can start getting ready for the Beis Hamikdash, collecting the money to buy gold for the golden menorah. The Temple Institute has already built a model, but it does not follow the Rebbe’s view, and we’ll now learn the details. So we have one whole kikar of gold. How do we work with it? How do we turn one whole kikar of gold—a solid lump weighing at least thirty-three kilograms—into such a magnificent menorah, with all its precise details? Let’s see what we need, and then we’ll see how it was made. The menorah had several basic components, and right now we’re speaking only about a golden menorah. If a menorah is made from other metals, different laws apply. It can be made without the decorations; its branches can be made to stand on their own, and it does not need a central shaft. Many requirements no longer apply. But the menorah as it stood in the Beis Hamikdash, made of pure gold, had every one of the details we’re about to describe. That is what is distinctive about

04:19 Speaker 2 the golden menorah. So what were its dimensions? The menorah was eighteen tefachim high, which is about 180 centimeters according to some methods of calculation. Again, that is an approximation: at ten centimeters per tefach, eighteen tefachim comes to about 180 centimeters. As for its width, across the branches, there is of course a disagreement. Its minimum width was nine tefachim, ninety centimeters. The maximum width cited by the halachic authorities and in Shiltei Hagiborim is 120 centimeters, twelve tefachim. Those are the menorah’s dimensions. What fits within them? There is a base, called the “thigh” of the menorah. A central shaft rises from the base, and six more branches extend from that central shaft. At the end of each branch is a lamp. A “lamp” in the language of our Sages is not a candle as we know it today. Rather, it is a vessel that can hold oil and a wick, with an opening oriented in a particular direction, as you saw in the picture. It is like a small funnel, a little horn-shaped vessel, into which we put the oil and the wick. So the menorah had a base, seven branches in all—the central one and six at the sides—and lamps on top. In addition, it had decorations: flowers, knobs, and cups. Those are the menorah’s three types of decoration. Now we’ll describe its exact structure and go into its measurements and details. We asked: how do we turn a kikar of gold into a complete menorah? The kikarim had been melted down from the coins, so now we have a kikar before us, brought to Moshe Rabbeinu or to the craftsman entrusted with the task. We’ll soon see other opinions about this. So they take an axe—one that is, of course, fit for sacred use. I don’t mean that it is a sacred service vessel, but that it is ritually pure. The gold itself was pure. Twenty-four karats is the highest level of purity in gold that we know today, but as far as we know, this gold was much purer. Moshe Rabbeinu, for example, had a precious stone: the stone from which he carved the second Tablets was sapphire. The material is called sanpiryon, an exceptionally pure substance. With the first Tablets, both the stone itself and the writing came from Hashem. With the second Tablets, only the writing did; Moshe Rabbeinu supplied the material. So the gold was pure gold. Now let’s look at this kikar of gold as a craftsman would. We need to produce from it a menorah in all its splendor—1.8 meters high and 1.2 meters wide, with all its details. What was unique about the menorah was that it was not assembled piece by piece. Unlike the way we commonly make things, bringing separate components and putting them together, the menorah was made by taking this one kikar and forming the entire thing from it. That required extremely precise cutting. Every cut had to separate material from the kikar in just the right way so that the required part of the menorah could then be shaped from it. So he struck it with a hammer, yes? That is what it says. Rashi explains: first he cuts out each part, and then he shapes the parts with a stylus, a tool with a very sharp, nail-like wooden point. That is

06:37 Speaker 2 We’ll look at some other approaches to this. So you take an axe—consecrated, of course. Uh, consecrated not in the sense of being a sacred Temple utensil, but pure. The gold itself was pure. Yes, twenty-four karat is the highest degree of purity in gold that we know today, but as far as we know, this gold was much purer. Just as Moshe Rabbeinu had a diamond, yes? The Tablets of the Covenant that Moshe Rabbeinu hewed in order to bring the second Tablets were made of diamond. That material is called sanpirion. A very pure material. With the first Tablets, both the stone itself and the writing came from Hashem. With the second Tablets, by contrast, only the writing did; Moshe Rabbeinu brought the material itself. So the gold was pure gold. Now we’re looking at this talent of gold as a craftsman would, and we need to make a menorah from it in all its splendor: 1.8 meters high, 1.2 meters wide, with all its details. What made the menorah unique was that it wasn’t assembled piece by piece. Many things in the Mishkan weren’t made the way we’re familiar with in the world, where we bring the components, the parts, and assemble them. Rather, the menorah was made by taking that talent of gold and shaping the entire thing from the gold itself. That meant the cutting had to be extremely precise. Each cut had to separate out material from the talent that could then be shaped into the part of the menorah we needed. So he struck it with a hammer, right? That’s what it says. Rashi explains: first he cuts out each component, and then he shapes the parts with a stylus, with a tool that has a very sharp point. This—

08:35 Speaker 2 The designs we put on it, and the shaping—we do that by heating the part we’ve worked on, and then we begin to shape the menorah. According to this approach, the branches of the menorah were solid, not hollow. There is another approach that makes the task much harder: all the branches were hollow. That means we didn’t just take this single talent of gold and shape the part prepared with the hammer; we also had to create a hollow space inside it and then shape the lamp at its end. We’ll talk a little more about the lamps later. Because of this complexity, which seems to be a technical difficulty, our Sages said that Moshe Rabbeinu found making the menorah difficult. As we now understand it, making the menorah meant turning one talent of gold into something as remarkable as a complete menorah with all its details. That seems very complicated. So our Sages say that Moshe Rabbeinu found it difficult to make the menorah, and that is why the verse says, “The menorah shall be made.” Rashi cites the Sages, who say: “It shall be made on its own.” Moshe Rabbeinu threw the talent of gold into the fire, and a finished menorah emerged. How easy it is when Hakadosh Boruch Hu does the work for us! But why did Moshe Rabbeinu find it difficult? This also connects to many sichos brought in Chassidus. What does the menorah actually symbolize? The menorah symbolizes the entire Jewish people. We have all the different qualities: people of kindness, people of strength, people of netzach, who persevere, people of hod, who are self-effacing, and people of yesod, who give to others. All of them are present in the menorah. Four... the seven lamps correspond to the seven middos, and all those middos are there, integrated with one another. What was difficult was understanding how, here in this lower world, with so many conflicting interests, there could be a perfect whole arising from a single talent of gold here

10:40 Speaker 2 in the lower world. That was Moshe Rabbeinu’s difficulty. That is how it is explained. And, in fact, the fire with which Hakadosh Boruch Hu joins people together—the fire of love of Hashem—is what brought this menorah into being: “The menorah shall be made,” through Moshe Rabbeinu, through the leader of the generation. What about the menorah’s ornaments? We mentioned them: there are knobs, cups, and flowers. There are eleven knobs. There are different views about what a knob looked like, but according to the Rambam, it looked like two halves of an egg, with the broad, non-pointed ends facing outward on both sides. In other words, a kind of asymmetrical round shape. According to Rashi, it was symmetrical. These knobs were generally placed at the junctions; we’ll explain those junctions and their significance shortly. Then there were the cups. The cups were certainly ornamental. In his famous drawing, which has been published in many places, the Rambam depicts them like Alexandrian cups: a pointed triangular shape, like martini glasses, so to speak. These cups were set into the menorah, shaped as part of it. Remember, the menorah was made from one talent of gold, and they were formed from the menorah itself, from its original material. According to Rashi, each knob, cup, and flower was joined together, projecting in different directions from the point where they began. According to other commentators, the ornaments were arranged one above the other. There are twenty-two cups, corresponding to the number of letters. Rabbeinu Bachya says that the twenty-two cups correspond to the twenty-two letters of the Torah and to the twenty-two forces mentioned in Sefer Yetzirah, which exist in a person and also in the world. Yes, the world is a great person, and a person is a small world. They contain all these forces, and the cups represent them all. So the cups—the twenty

12:58 Speaker 2 twenty-two cups distributed across the menorah—we’ll soon understand where they were placed and in what order. They are there, conveying all the influence throughout the menorah. In other words, the menorah seemingly encompassed everything. There are also nine flowers. Nine flowers. The Hebrew letters of “flower,” perach, can be rearranged to spell “288,” rapach. This is the idea of refinement—sorting and purifying. That is the significance of perach, the letters of rapach. It is connected with holy Divine Names that signify the ability to refine this world and become integrated into the world of Atzilus, the realm of holiness that is entirely G-dliness and holiness. The Rambam explains that all the cups faced downward. You can see it in the drawing. The Rebbe brings proof from this drawing, although of course some disagree and say it was not necessarily intended to show exactly what the menorah looked like. But the Rebbe says in that sicha that the Rambam could not have drawn the cups facing downward twenty-two times by mistake or by chance. It alludes to the idea that the cups represent the transmission of influence: they are meant to give. These forces flow downward, descending into this world to reveal what they must reveal, like the letters of speech that reveal what is hidden in a person’s heart. The verse says: “Cups shaped like almonds, its knobs and its flowers.” Our Sages say that this verse has no definitive reading. What does that mean? I can’t tell which parts are “shaped like almonds”: the knobs, the flowers, or perhaps the cups that come before the word. There is something similar concerning the robe: the wording about the robe mentions “a pomegranate and a bell” and “within.” So that wording, too, has led to many interpretations, and there is no definitive reading. There are different approaches, including those of the Ramban and Rashi. Here, too, we don’t know which parts should have the almond shapes. So what are these almonds? Obviously, we don’t take actual almonds and stick them onto the menorah. The menorah

14:59 Speaker 2 is entirely hammered from pure gold. Rather, according to Rashi, we engrave an almond shape on the appropriate place. According to the Rambam, we make the almond shape protrude on all the ornaments: the cups, the knobs, and the flowers. According to the other commentators, it is not on all of them—only on the knobs or only on the flowers. In any case, according to Rashi, we engrave an almond shape; according to the Rambam, we make an almond shape stand out. There is something similar with the curtains—the curtains of the Mishkan. Whether a design is woven into them, whether it stands out, whether it looks the same on both sides—these questions have broad inner significance, of course. Our point here about the ornaments is, as we said, that they are made only on a gold menorah. And we see that we must add an almond shape to these ornaments. Yes, the almond signifies doing something quickly, without being lazy. Fire is always about integration. The purpose of the entire menorah is to show how the Jewish people become integrated with the higher middos. Yes, the seven lower middos of this world, with its desire to consume everything, must connect with Hashem, connect with G-dliness, connect with the Creator of the world, Who commanded that this menorah be made. And this menorah illuminates the world, as do all the menorahs—lamps meant to give light. As in the Chassidic saying—chassidim always “count,” yes, the idea of sapir, a sapphire stone, illuminating things. That is our role as chassidim, and these lamps represented the idea of illumination. Every Jewish soul knows how to illuminate the world. And the almond shapes on these cups signify doing it quickly, not being lazy. You know countless stories about how those who acted promptly always merited great things among the tzaddikim, and of course with our Rebbe as well. In any case, we have eleven knobs and twenty-two cups, as we said.

17:01 Speaker 2 According to the Rambam, they all face downward, and that is how the Rebbe asked us to make our menorahs. Now we’ll see where the nine flowers and all these decorations are positioned on the menorah. We’ll build the menorah step by step until we reach the lamps at the top and understand its structure. First, let’s look at the complete menorah. This is its drawing. This is the menorah as a whole. We’ll start at the bottom. The bottom part, as we said, is the base. It’s called the thigh. The thigh consisted of a box-like structure, and according to all the opinions, it was a wide base. According to Rashi, it was hollow. That means they also hammered it with a fine hammer. Gold is a soft metal—it’s considered soft among metals—so it’s relatively easy to work. They apparently struck the lower part with a hammer made of something lighter, softer than metal. Wherever something needed to be hollow, they hammered it to hollow it out, to make a cavity in it. So this base had a structure, and opinions differ about its shape. According to Rabbeinu Bachya, it was a box, a rectangle—a rectangular box, something like a shoebox, so to speak, only made entirely of gold. And why was it a box? To recall Noach’s ark, says Rabbeinu Bachya. Others hold that it was round, or that it had six or eight sides—a hexagon or an octagon. Those are the geometric shapes. In any case, this was the part at the bottom, and the menorah’s base had three legs. In the center of the thigh was the first decoration on the menorah: the flower. We begin with the flower. “Flower,” as we said, is 288—reish, pei, ches. This is the concept of refinement; from the base, it is a foundation for refinement. From it rose the middle branch, the central stem. The central stem extended all the way to the top of the menorah, and it was

19:19 Speaker 2 the base from which all the branches emerged. After leaving the thigh, we begin to move upward. The central stem was fifteen tefachim high, right? We said the total was eighteen. The thigh itself, including the legs, was three tefachim—meaning it reached a height of three tefachim altogether. From the top of the thigh, from its roof, rose the middle stem, which was fifteen tefachim high. That gives us eighteen in total. The first section after the flower was two smooth tefachim. That means there was no decoration for two tefachim, as you can see in the drawing. Then, within the next tefach, there was a knob, a flower and a cup. According to most opinions, the cup was below, with the flower and knob above it. Rashi says they projected to the sides in different directions. We won’t discuss which direction each one projected—whether the knob went east or west—but they were not inside one another; they were one above the other within that tefach. After that came another two smooth tefachim, another two tefachim without any decoration. So we’re already at two plus one plus two—the fifth tefach of the middle stem. This is where the branches begin to emerge. Two branches always emerge from the same point on the middle stem. In other words, the middle stem has three branching points, producing six branches. At each point, two branches emerge, and each branching point is marked by a knob, as you can see. The knob... seemingly, it’s just a simple decoration. The Tzemach Tzedek explains something remarkable about this knob. Since, as we said, the menorah represents the middos, and the middos are opposites—chesed is water, and fire is gevurah—they seemingly don’t get along with each other. In the plague of hail, we know, Hakadosh Boruch Hu made peace between fire and water, but that takes a miracle. The Tzemach Tzedek teaches us such a wonderful principle. Two middos are so opposed to each other. When there are opposing things in this world, what do we do with them? We fight, we distance ourselves, we go to a rabbi, we reach a compromise. The most important outcome should be that they become integrated and connected, that a stronger, deeper bond comes into being after the conflict between the middos. That is what the knob symbolizes. There was a conflict of interests? Fine. That’s this world; this world is full of conflicts of interest. But afterward, find a way to reconnect and turn it into “love in the end.” Turn it into something greater, something more elevated and meaningful, until it becomes a round knob, without end, containing the integration of everything. That is the idea of the knob. That’s why there was a knob whenever two branches emerged, because the knob symbolized this: here are two fellows who don’t get along, but I connect them. That is the middle stem, the foundation. So we had two tefachim, then a knob, flower and cup within one tefach, then another two smooth tefachim. Now we have the knob from which two branches emerge, within another tefach. Altogether, we’re already at the ninth tefach. That ninth tefach contained the knob from which the first two opposing middos emerge. Then there is another smooth tefach, another knob, and another two branches emerge. Yes: a knob, a tefach, a knob, a tefach, a knob. After the third knob, there are another two tefachim, and then we reach the final decorations on the menorah. At the end of each branch there were three cups, a knob and a flower. Again, the opinions differ, as we said: whether one projected from within another or one was joined to another, as you can see in the picture, which shows one possible arrangement. But we had another three

21:39 Speaker 2 He made peace between fire and water, but that doesn’t— that takes a miracle. The Tzemach Tzedek teaches us such a wonderful principle. Two attributes that are so opposed to each other. When there are opposing things in this world, what do we do with them? We argue, we distance ourselves, we go to a rabbi, we reach a compromise. The most important outcome should be that they become integrated and connected, that something new comes into being—a stronger, deeper connection after the conflict between the attributes. That is what the knob symbolizes. There was a conflict of interests? Excellent. That’s this world; this world is full of conflicting interests. But afterward, find a way to reconnect and turn it into “love in the end.” Turn it into something greater, more elevated and meaningful, until it becomes a round knob, without end, encompassing the integration of everything. That’s the idea of the knob. That’s why every time two branches emerged, there was a knob: it symbolized—here are two fellows who don’t get along, but I’m connecting them. That’s the central stem, the foundation. So we had two handbreadths, then a knob, a flower and a cup over one handbreadth, then another two smooth handbreadths. Now we’ve had the knob from which two branches emerge over another handbreadth. Altogether, we’re already at the ninth handbreadth. The ninth handbreadth was the one with the knob from which the first two opposing attributes emerge. After that, we have another smooth handbreadth, another knob, and another two branches emerging. Yes: knob, handbreadth, knob, handbreadth, knob. After the third knob, we have another two handbreadths, and then we reach the final decorations on the menorah. At the end of each branch, we had three cups, a knob and a flower. Again, the arrangements are as we said: one protrudes into the other, one is integrated with the other, as you can see in the picture—one possible way they connect. But we had another three

23:40 Speaker 2 tefachim, with the final decorations along those three tefachim, and above them, at the end of the branch, was the lamp. There is a disagreement among Chazal about the lamps themselves. According to Rabbi Yosi, the lamps were detachable, meaning they were not part of the menorah. They were fitted onto the tops of the branches as little gold vessels. According to the Tanna Kamma, the tanna who disagrees with him, the lamps were also part of the menorah. The Ohr Hachaim says something interesting in his commentary on the Torah. He explains this disagreement between the tannaim and says that, had he been there, he would have proved that the lamps were indeed part of the menorah. The Ohr Hachaim says something quite remarkable in his commentary. These branches emerged from the menorah and, as we said, at the top of each branch was a lamp. So we have the whole menorah, with branches emerging from all three knobs along the middle stem, and the lamps at the top. How did those branches emerge? In what shape? Were they diagonal, or did they form a curve, a semicircle, as other commentators explain? Evidence is brought once again from the drawing made by the Rambam, where the branches are completely diagonal. Rashi’s commentary on the Torah also uses the word “diagonal”—a kind of bent diagonal. Some, though, understand Rashi’s “diagonal” to mean a connection between two endpoints, so they say a curve could run between those endpoints. They want to bring proof from a menorah found in Rome. In any case, on the Arch of Titus, too, we see a menorah with curved branches. But that actually proves the opposite of what they are trying to prove—a proof that refutes their argument, as they say. So we see the evidence people apparently bring, although a synagogue was also found in Syria with a menorah depicted with diagonal branches, as you can see in the picture. So the question of how the cups—the branches—emerged from the middle stem is disputed. According to Rashi and the Rambam, it is absolutely clear that they emerged in straight lines

25:52 Speaker 2 As the Rambam instructs us to picture and make it. That is why we follow these views, and, with Hashem’s help, we’ll come back to further questions later. Next we come to the menorah’s lamps. We explained that a lamp is a small vessel, like the one shown in the picture. It has a hollow space into which oil can be poured, and a spout pointing in a particular direction. The wick is placed in that spout; it draws up the oil and produces the lamp’s light. This is not a candle as we use the word today, made of paraffin with a wick running its whole length, which burns down slowly. Here, the wick continually draws oil up from below. That was the kind of lamp used in the menorah. As we said, according to the Or Hachayim Hakadosh, the lamps were part of the single kikar of gold. That is also how it appears in the inner dimension of Torah. What were the wicks made from? They were made from material from the kohanim’s trousers. We know that at the Simchas Beis Hashoeivah there were huge, very tall lamps that required large quantities of oil, and they lit up all of Jerusalem. That is what it says. There were other lamps in Jerusalem too, because after all, there is a limit to how far one lamp can shine. But in any case, that is how our Sages describe it—perhaps they mean an inner illumination. At any rate, those lamps shone, and their wicks—the wicks of the large lamps that lit up Jerusalem—were indeed made from the kohanim’s trousers, from their belts, the kohanim’s belts. Yes, the kohanim’s trousers. But regarding the menorah, the Gemara says, “Zila milsa”—it would be too undignified. Trousers? Is that appropriate for a menorah inside the Heichal? If the purpose is to bring joy to all the Jewish people in the Women’s Courtyard, where the large lamps were set up, then it is appropriate, yes, that is fine. You take something sacred and use it for another sacred purpose. But inside the Heichal itself, it is not appropriate. So what do we take? We take

28:01 Speaker 2 from those—as the early commentators explain—the trousers of the Kohen Gadol. That is no longer zila milsa; it is not something undignified. The trousers of the Kohen Gadol, who enters the innermost chamber: that is the one garment that remains constant throughout. The trousers are the foundation, right? The other garments change. The white garments, the garments of an ordinary kohen, are four pieces; the Kohen Gadol’s regular weekday garments are eight pieces. But the trousers are constant for the Kohen Gadol throughout. So this element, this constancy of the light, is taken from something constant. We take the Kohen Gadol’s trousers and make the wicks for the light from them. All the lamps, as we said, face the western lamp. And what does that signify? Does Hashem want the Heichal lit for Him? “Does He need its light?” our Sages ask. Hakadosh Boruch Hu does not need the menorah’s light. Rather, He wants to illuminate, to show us this reality of light. So the idea of the menorah—and this is indeed connected with the days of Chanukah, which fall during the great darkness, the long nights of Teves—is to illuminate the world. It is “a testimony to all who enter the world,” right? That is what it says: our Sages call the menorah a testimony to all who enter the world. But who sees the menorah inside the Heichal? Only the kohanim who serve there. How is it a testimony to everyone? Who sees it? Rather, this refers to the Chanukah lights, as the Ramban explains in Parshas Behaaloscha. The idea of this illumination—lighting up the world with the light of Torah, with precious light—is accomplished by Jews in this world. Jews throughout the galus light Chanukah candles and show that there is a power greater than their own: the kohen who tends the lamps, the Rebbe who gives each chossid the strength, the tzaddik who gives us the strength

29:48 Speaker 2 to reveal Hashem and illuminate this world. That is the idea of the menorah. How much oil did they put into its lamps? It says half a log—a fixed amount throughout the year. What is half a log? It is about 150 cubic centimeters, and that is how much they put into this vessel. So it was not a tiny vessel; it held a substantial amount. The wick drew up that oil, enough even for the long nights of Teves—nights that, in terms of the calendar used in the wider world, fall in December or January, depending on the year. Chanukah would fall then, and on those days the lamps in the Beis Hamikdash also had to burn throughout the night. According to the Rambam, the lamps were lit not only toward evening but also in the morning. We will learn about that in the class on the avodah and go into the details there. And every day there was a Chanukah-like miracle: even though the western lamp had been given the same amount of oil, some was left over, and it continued burning all that time. So those are all the features of the menorah, all eighteen tefachim of it, as detailed by the early and later authorities. Now let’s look at the menorah’s utensils, the things used in its service. There were tongs—tweezers, really—which we used to pull the wicks and move them as needed, both when lighting the lamps and when clearing them out. Once everything had burned down, all the ash and whatever remained in the menorah had to be removed. For that, we used the tongs and the shovels. A shovel was a small scoop into which we put all the residue left from the burning lamps. Presumably there was very little: just the burnt wick, since the oil was pure olive oil and the wick was made of flax tow, which burns very well. So there should have been

31:46 Speaker 2 very little residue, but there was still some. They gathered that small amount with the tongs, those tweezers, and the shovel, and put it into a kuz, a vessel. Every morning they placed it on the second step—we will learn about that too when we discuss the avodah. Since the menorah was about 1.8 meters tall, and not all the kohanim were that tall, there were three steps, each three tefachim high. They could climb them to light the menorah and perform the service it required. Finally, the oil used for lighting was also special: pure olive oil. They took it from the top of the tree, and it was the first oil pressed from the olives. There were three grades of olives themselves and three stages in processing them. The three grades were the olives at the very top of the tree, where they ripen best and are therefore the finest for producing oil; olives from the middle of the tree; and olives from the lower ends of the branches, which are the lowest grade. Each of these three grades could be processed in three ways. First, they could be pressed to extract the initial drops—crushing the olives one by one. That crushing is the action that squeezes the first drops from an olive. Then came grinding. After that, once the olives had been ground and most of the oil had come out, they put them into baskets for pressing. This was not a modern olive press. We have modern presses that do all the grinding at once, but this was the method used in the time of our Sages: they took everything that had been ground, placed heavy beams on top, and the oil flowed out overnight or over the course of

33:50 Speaker 2 For two days, and then all the remaining oil comes out, and that, of course, is the poorest-quality oil. For the menorah, oil from all the olives picked individually is valid: the olives at the top of the tree, those in the middle, and those at the bottom. Any olive picked individually by hand is valid for making oil for the menorah. Of course, the finest oil comes from the finest olives, those at the top of the tree, which we pick individually. And so, at Chanukah, during the war against the Greeks, it took several days to purify ourselves and prepare pure olives, so that we would have properly pure oil. May we merit, in our days, to see the menorah and to see the Rebbe light the menorah, as Rabbi Mordechai Eliyahu said. May we see that reality unfold before our eyes, rejoice in it, and see the glorious light of Hashem. Now we’ll describe the service of the menorah: how it was performed in the Beis Hamikdash. The menorah was in the Beis Hamikdash, inside the Heichal. There are three sections, as the Rambam describes in... There are three chapters; we learned this just a few days ago. So we have the Holy of Holies, the Holy Place, the House, and the Heichal and the Ulam—sorry. The Holy Place is also called the Heichal. So there is the Holy of Holies, the Heichal, which is called the Holy Place, and the Ulam, which is the entrance hall. These three sections are called the House itself. In the Mishkan there was no Ulam; there were only the Holy Place and the Holy of Holies. The Ark was in the Holy of Holies, and three vessels were in the Heichal, the Holy Place. That brings us to the menorah. Which vessels were there? The menorah, whose service we’ll discuss at length today; the table, the table of the showbread, on which there were two arrangements of six loaves each—loaves with a face on either side, which is why they were called “bread of faces”; and the golden altar, on which they would

35:59 Speaker 2 burn the incense every day. Today we’ll learn about the service of the menorah. We’ll mention the other services in connection with it, because the menorah’s service is connected and intertwined with them. So where was the menorah positioned? Let’s begin with a somewhat more spiritual point. The menorah was positioned on the south side. The Beis Hamikdash was built along an east–west axis. When we enter the Beis Hamikdash, we enter from the east, through the Eastern Gate. “A person should never behave frivolously facing the Eastern Gate.” That was the entrance to the Beis Hamikdash. There was a series of gates there, beginning with the eastern gate of the Temple Mount and continuing to the innermost gates, up to the Holy of Holies. The entrance to the Holy of Holies—in the First Beis Hamikdash there was a doorway; in the Second there were two curtains. In any case, you could see all the gates along a straight line. And not only that: when the red heifer was prepared, the kohen had to be able to see the entrance to the Ulam, to see into the Beis Hamikdash. That is another remarkable subject. So the menorah was inside the Heichal, in the Holy Place, before the Holy of Holies. It was on the left side, which is the south. We’re looking from east to west, so north is on the right, south is on the left, and ahead of us is the... We’re moving from east to west. The Tzemach Tzedek asks: If these directions have meaning—if we consider chesed, gevurah, and tiferes, the spiritual qualities represented by the vessels in the Heichal—and chesed means giving and doing good, then the table should have been in the south. By contrast, the north represents gevurah, restraint, so that is where the... the fire should have been. Fire represents ascent, while giving is associated with water. So the table of showbread should be in the south, says the Tzemach Tzedek, because the south represents giving, while in the north, which represents restraint, there should be

38:27 Speaker 2 the menorah, which represents gevurah. This is very precise: fire is the element associated with gevurah; water is the element associated with chesed. Compassion and tiferes are associated with air, and earth with the west. So according to these elements, we would have expected to find the menorah in the north and the table, which provides sustenance, in the south. The Mishnah speaks of three crowns. The crown of the table is called the crown of kingship. The three crowns are the crown of kehunah, the crown of Torah, and the crown of kingship. So the crown of kingship belongs to the table of showbread, for a king bestows kindness. We know that malchus is self-effacing; it sets itself aside and illuminates everything. It would follow that the source of giving should be in the south, not the north, yet we find the menorah—with its fire, representing gevurah—in the south. What does this mean? The Tzemach Tzedek explains that, just as we learned about the menorah itself—that its knobs represent the way each spiritual quality includes and connects with the others—so too the menorah’s position in the south expresses this interconnection. Although the menorah is more closely associated with gevurah and fire, it stands in the south to show how these qualities are blended. Likewise, the table of showbread stands in the north. It represents giving, but that giving is an expression of malchus. Malchus also has something of gevurah about it, but the table still provides sustenance. At a gathering of important people, a table represents providing for others, and this source of sustenance is specifically in the north. Let’s discuss another point about directions, one that will help us understand the menorah’s service as a whole. We learned that the menorah has seven lamps, and it is well known that one may not make another like it. That is why a Chanukah menorah is made with eight lights. One may not

40:35 Speaker 2 make a menorah like the one in the Beis Hamikdash. That isn’t— In any case, the question of the menorah’s position is not just that it stood in the south, but how it stood there. As you can see in the picture, there are two ways to position it. It could stand north to south, so that someone entering the Heichal would see the entire menorah facing him, as shown in the picture. Or it could stand east to west, in which case someone entering the Heichal would see only a row of lamps on that tall, beautiful, magnificent menorah, but would not see the whole front of it as shown in the picture. So the menorah’s orientation also makes a difference. The Rebbe has a sicha about the significance of this, but it also makes a very big practical difference in halachah for how the menorah is lit. Which lamp is called the western lamp? It could mean the middle lamp of the menorah. If the menorah stands north to south, it faces us, and the western lamp is the middle one facing us. But if the menorah stands east to west, so that, as we said, we see only a row of lamps, which one is called the western lamp? The westernmost one. That is the straightforward meaning adopted by some halachic authorities: the western lamp is the last lamp, the one farthest to the west. If, when the menorah faces us, the western lamp is the middle one, which is, so to speak, directed toward the west, then when the menorah stands in a row from east to west, the western lamp is the one at the end. But, of course, in halachah the Jewish mind always comes up with another possibility. There is also a way to say: No, the western lamp is the first lamp that can be called “western” in relation to the lamp to its east. That would make it the second lamp we encounter. This is the approach of

42:51 Speaker 2 The Alter Rebbe—and the Alter Rebbe indeed takes the view that, according to this approach, the western lamp is the second lamp of the menorah. So we have seen two opinions about the menorah’s position, and two opinions about how it was set in the south. One more thing we should mention about the western lamp: for an extended period—certainly in the First Beis Hamikdash and also during part of the Second—there was a constant Chanukah-like miracle with the menorah. What was that constant miracle? They put the same amount of oil in the western lamp as in all the other lamps: half a log. According to most opinions, the lamps were lit only at night. By the following evening, when we reached the next day, the western lamp was still burning, even though it had the same amount of oil as the others. All the other lamps had already gone out. Rashi explains in his commentary on the Torah how much oil to put in the menorah: enough to last the whole night, because the main point of lighting the menorah is for it to burn at night. It had to burn through even the long nights of Teves, as Rashi says there. That is what determined the quantity of oil: enough to keep the lamp burning all night. So that was the amount of oil, and there was a constant miracle with the western lamp. Whichever opinion we follow, the western lamp always burned for twenty-four hours, and they would then light the other lamps from it. The materials used for lighting. We mentioned them in the previous class; let’s go into a little more detail now. We said that a lamp has oil and the lamp itself, the vessel, which we said was made of

45:01 Speaker 2 gold. This isn’t like the kind of candle we’re used to today, with a wick that consumes the paraffin surrounding it. Rather, it is a vessel containing a wick and oil. Those are the components of a lamp. All the lamps, we said, faced the western lamp to show that Hakadosh Boruch Hu does not need the light of the menorah; rather, He comes to illuminate the world. The western lamp, as we mentioned, represents the joining together of the souls and their connection. Incidentally, according to all the approaches, the western lamp represents the attribute of Netzach, the sefirah of Netzach—whichever direction we count from. According to the approach in which we count Chesed, Gevurah, Tiferes, Netzach, Hod, Yesod and Malchus, that is the western lamp. Another approach says it is Malchus itself. In any case, all the lamps faced the western lamp to show that we do not need to increase the light inside the Heichal for Hashem’s sake, but for the Jewish people. The wicks were made from the trousers and belts—that is what they are called in the language of the Mishnah and Gemara—of the Kohen Gadol. We said that the wicks for the lamps in the courtyard, in the Ezras Nashim, were made from the trousers of the other kohanim. They would twist them into wicks. The thickness of the wick determines the strength of the flame and, of course, the rate at which it burns. Later authorities write that they experimented with this to understand exactly how long it takes, and what thickness of wick is needed for it to burn all night without being consumed beforehand. As for the oil, we said there are three kinds of olives. Let’s go into that a little more now. There are three kinds of olives, and we perform three processes on each kind. That gives us three

47:08 Speaker 2 times three: nine. What are the three kinds of olives? First are the olives at the very top of the olive tree. They ripen well, so it is easier to extract their oil. They also draw more moisture from the tree and receive more sun, so they are fuller and riper. These are the finest olives, and ideally we use them to light the menorah. What do we do with them? We crush them very lightly with a wooden pestle. The oil that comes out is called the first oil of those olives—the olives from the top of the tree. Then we take everything we have just crushed and place a beam on it. A beam is a large piece of wood. They had baskets of olives, wicker baskets, and would place the olives in them and put a heavy beam on top. This squeezes them and extracts more oil; that is called the second oil. For the third oil, we take what remains of those olives and grind it. After grinding, we get a third oil. Of course, because it has been ground, it contains more sediment, so it ranks third in quality. First, the olives are picked individually and lightly crushed; second, a beam is placed on them; third, they are ground. Those are the three grades of oil from the olives. And there are three kinds of olives: olives from the top of the tree; olives from the middle, which ripen but not quite as well; and olives from the bottom. Those receive the least sun and are therefore harder, making it more difficult to extract oil from them. They are considered the lowest grade. The top of the tree, the middle of the tree and the bottom of the tree—and the three processes we mentioned earlier: an initial grinding—rather, an initial crushing—

49:15 Speaker 2 followed by pressing the crushed olives under the beam of the olive press, and then grinding. All three processes are done with each of the three kinds of olives. The first oil from each kind is fit for the menorah. For the first kind, there are olives that we crush; for the second kind, there are olives that we crush; and for the third kind, too, there are olives that we crush. So the three oils produced by crushing are fit for the menorah, and the finest of them is, of course, the first. And on Chanukah we waited eight days—seven days—and waited until we had pure oil that was fit for use. The amount of oil is half a log, as we said. According to the Rambam, the measurements are the smaller ones we are familiar with. Today we know that a revi’is is eighty-six, so four times that comes to three hundred and twenty-something for a log. Half a log would therefore be a hundred and sixty-something. According to the Rambam, half a log is 150 cubic centimeters, a smaller measure. There are other opinions too, but this is what is commonly accepted today, and that is the amount they put in: 150 or 160 cubic centimeters of oil in each lamp. That is a fairly substantial amount, and it burns all night, even on the long winter nights, the nights of Teves, as Rashi writes. So that is the amount of oil we put in each lamp. Now let’s turn to the time for this service. When is it done? As the Gemara says in Pesachim, “What use is a lamp at midday?” If we have a lamp at noon, what does it help us? We need a lamp specifically at night. So we search by lamplight specifically at night, as stated in Tractate Pesachim. In our case too, the main lighting is at night. According to the Rambam, what is called preparing the lamps also takes place during the day. For the Rambam, “preparing” means lighting. So preparing and lighting are the same thing, and the preparation is

51:36 Speaker 2 It is done both at night and during the day, both toward evening and in the morning. That is the meaning of tending the lamps. Among the other halachic authorities, almost no one besides the Rambam holds this way. The Rambam, incidentally, brings this from the Zohar. Now, the Arizal and the Baal Shem Tov disagree about whether the Rambam saw the Zohar, or had access to the secrets of the Torah. The Rebbe brings several proofs that he did. You could say this is another proof: the Rambam rules that they tended the lamps—that is, lit the menorah—during the day as well. But everyone agrees, and the Rambam also rules this as halachah, that when inaugurating a kohen’s service, the essential service of the menorah, for which a blessing is said, takes place specifically toward evening. Because the central purpose really is to illuminate the night, to illuminate the darkness. So we light the menorah in the morning. The verse says, “morning by morning,” and on this the Gemara says: divide it into two mornings. That means we need to light the menorah, but not all seven lamps at once. Rather, we light five lamps first and then two. Yes, the western lamp, two—so the lamps, the western lamp, two—they divided them into five and two. Why divide them? First of all, it is a decree of Scripture. That is how the Torah commanded us to divide the lighting into two parts. But with everything we do in the Beis Hamikdash, even when it is a decree of Scripture, the Gemara asks: Why do it this way? And the reason, the Gemara often says, is to enliven the courtyard. When we do things, this also relates to education. When you do something and pause in the middle, suddenly the child looks: things are moving; what happened? Something has changed. Every change like that brings life to the courtyard. For example, we bring the parts of the offering, we hold

53:34 Speaker 2 lotteries—the lottery for the kohanim, which was instituted at a later stage in the time of the Beis Hamikdash. We also hold many of these lotteries to enliven the courtyard. Come quickly, there’s a lottery, there are assignments, things are happening. This excitement in the courtyard—Hashem loves it when His children are enthusiastic in His service, so He wants us to serve with enthusiasm. So here, too, we divide the service of the menorah, the lamps, into two parts: “morning by morning.” When do we do that? When do we make this division? To answer that, we need a somewhat broader understanding of the process we are in. We have an entire order of service of which tending and lighting the menorah are a part. What is that process? It is called the morning tamid offering. There was an entire order of service in the morning and a similar order toward evening. In the morning we open the gates of the courtyard and the gates of the Sanctuary. We make sure to clean and wash down the courtyard, start preparing ingredients for the Kohen Gadol’s chavitin offering, and do many other things. The menorah and the incense altar went together in this respect. Every morning we say: “Abaye would arrange the order of the altar service according to the tradition, following Abba Shaul.” In fact, this is a dispute in the Gemara; the Gemara in Yoma differs on this point. The Sages and Abba Shaul disagree. The Sages say that between tending five lamps and tending two lamps, we perform another service. We have to perform another service because it renews the activity, and as we said, “divide it into two mornings.” We must do five lamps and two lamps. What do we do in between? According to the Sages, we perform the incense service. According to Abba Shaul, whose view we recite every morning, we perform the service of the blood of the tamid offering. We sprinkle the blood of the tamid in two applications that count as four, at the northeast and southwest corners. They slaughtered

55:34 Speaker 2 the tamid offering and sprinkled its blood in two applications that count as four, on two corners so that the blood reaches all four sides of the altar. That is according to Abba Shaul. We know that the Rebbe ruled many times that, on matters concerning the Beis Hamikdash, we should go by the Rambam, because he is the only halachic authority who ruled on these matters; all the others were commentators. This is discussed in the sichos. The significant point here is that the Rambam does not rule like Abba Shaul; he rules like the Sages. So perhaps we could suggest, in passing, that since the incense is connected with tending the incense altar, and the person who goes in to clean the incense altar and the person who goes in to clean the menorah enter at the same time, there is reason to link them. Of course, this is also learned from the verses. But in spiritual terms, fire is more about rising upward. On the other hand, if we divide the tending of the lamps with the blood of the tamid offering, then perhaps the lamps are more connected with what we speak about in our generation: the matter of practical service. Yes, and it is not the Rambam who rules this way, but the Yaavetz and the Vilna Gaon, who rule like Abba Shaul. So we have an interesting disagreement here. If anyone has seen something about it, I would be glad to hear. In any case, these are the stages at which we perform the service of the menorah. So we have two approaches: between the two parts of the menorah service, we either offer the incense or sprinkle the blood of the tamid. The service itself was very detailed and precise, like everything in the Beis Hamikdash. Let’s now describe how it was done. First, as we said, “tending the lamps” has two meanings, according to the Rambam and according to the other authorities. The Rambam explains that tending the lamps means lighting them, and he proves

57:32 Speaker 2 this from the verses. He therefore rules that the lamps are tended in the morning—that is, lit in the morning. They are tended toward evening—that is, lit toward evening. Again, the Rambam does not dispute that toward evening is the main time for lighting. According to the other authorities, “tending” means cleaning and preparing. Who does that? We mentioned that there were lotteries in the Beis Hamikdash. A lottery was how they chose who would serve. This was a later enactment, arising from a need in the Second Beis Hamikdash, when the kohanim had reached the point of quarreling over who would do the service: “I’ll do it,” “You’ll do it.” So they decided to use lotteries. They stood the kohanim in a circle; an official was in charge of the lotteries, and a deputy of the Sanhedrin had to stand beside him to make sure it was done properly, without cheating. There was a whole procedure for it, and a whole body of laws with spiritual significance. In any case, the lottery determined who would serve. The first lottery determined who would clear the ashes from the altar; later, other tasks were added to it, including who would bring up the two logs of wood. But the second lottery held in the Beis Hamikdash—and as we said, holding many lotteries also built excitement—determined the main assignments: cleaning the altar and cleaning the menorah, the services connected with the tamid offering, the slaughtering, and so on. Thirteen people were selected in the second lottery. Of those selected, two people concern us here: the one who cleaned—who cleared the ashes from—the inner altar, as it is called, cleaning it with a sponge of all the remains of the incense that had burned; and the second one. The two went in together. The second tended the menorah, cleaning it. What did tending the menorah involve? In front of the menorah, we mentioned, there were three steps—“When you raise up,” “when you raise up,” “when you raise up”—so there were three steps. Altogether they were about thirty centimeters, yes, three

59:32 Speaker 2 handbreadths, and now the person standing opposite the menorah is facing the remaining meter and a half of the menorah. He can now see the front of the menorah; he should already be above it, and he can prepare the lamps. Preparing them means using tongs. With the tongs, he removed what was left of the wick. When the wick burned, it drew up the oil and eventually went out, and part of the wick might remain inside the lamp. He would grasp that part with the tongs and put it in a cup. Then he would take a sponge and wipe out the lamp, removing whatever was left inside it. So he stood on the three steps, on the stone that was in front of the menorah, and used tongs to take out the wick left inside the lamp. A piece of the wick remained after it burned down because the oil ran out. It is like what we say about Chanukah lamps: all the oil was used up, and a little bit of wick remained. What remained of that wick could be used for a new wick, while the old wick was taken out with tongs and placed in the cup. Afterward, he took a sponge and thoroughly wiped out the lamp so that nothing remained in it. Now we have a lamp empty of wick and oil—just the lamp itself, the gold vessel at the top of the menorah’s branch. Into that vessel we place a new wick, which is the proper order from the outset, and then we add the oil. This is what preparing each lamp means: taking the lamp, removing the wick, cleaning it, and putting in a new wick and new oil, half a log. According to the Rambam, at this stage, after preparing all the lamps, we also light them. Where do we get the fire to light the menorah? We said that for many generations there was a miracle: the

1:01:43 Speaker 2 western lamp remained lit even though it received the same amount of oil as all the others. It burned longer than all of them. In fact, it burned for twenty-four hours, despite that small quantity of oil. We said that the thickness of the wick determines the total burning time, and the Sages instructed the kohanim how to make the wicks so they would last at least through the night. As we said, the menorah has a western lamp. The western lamp burned miraculously, as we said, and according to the views of the Rishonim that hold that the other lamps were lit from the western lamp, this is what they did: after preparing a lamp and placing the wick and oil in it, they drew out the wick of the western lamp. The Rambam does not rule this way; this is according to the Raavad. With the flame of the western lamp, they would then light the newly prepared lamp. They did this for each lamp they prepared. What did they do when the western lamp did not burn miraculously? That was the case in the later years of the Beis Hamikdash, for at least forty years. They took a thin piece of wood that would catch fire readily, went to the outer altar, and brought fire from there. There were at least two other places in the Beis Hamikdash where there was fire. To the north was the Beis Hanitzotz, where a lamp burned all the time. There was also the Beis Hamoked, a fairly large area with four chambers at its corners. In the Beis Hamoked, as its name suggests, a fire burned continuously. So there was fire there too, and there is also an opinion that it could be taken from there. But the halachic ruling is that the fire is taken specifically from the altar, yes? The idea of malchus illuminating gevurah, the light. This is also connected to profound concepts in Chassidus. In practice, they took fire from the large altar fire, because the fire for the incense had generally gone out. They took that fire and used this piece of wood to light the menorah,

1:03:59 Speaker 2 at times when the western lamp was not burning. It is forbidden to extinguish the lamps at night, but someone who extinguishes them during the day does not violate that prohibition. It is not a mitzvah, of course. If a kohen decided to enter the Heichal just to do that, it would not count as service, right? It would be considered an entry without purpose. One may enter the different areas of the Beis Hamikdash—an Israelite entering the courtyard, a kohen entering the Heichal, or someone proceeding farther west into the Holy of Holies—only for the purpose of the service. Someone who enters the Heichal without a need connected to the service has entered without purpose. That means he has simply gone in empty-handed, with no reason to be there, and by law he is liable to death at the hands of Heaven. In any case, if a person entered for a service-related purpose, to remove utensils, and then decided to extinguish one of the menorah’s lamps in the morning, he would not receive lashes for it, but it is not a mitzvah. The mitzvah is to light the lamps, not to extinguish them. Lighting the menorah overrides Shabbos, and it also overrides ritual impurity. Both give way to the lighting of the menorah. We learn this from the word “continual,” just as the continual offering is slaughtered on Shabbos and brought even when ritual impurity applies to the community. So too, we may light the menorah on Shabbos. It follows—and the Pnei Yehoshua sheds light on this—that the entire miracle of Chanukah was a miracle granted out of Hashem’s special affection, because it was not strictly necessary: the service could be performed in a state of ritual impurity. But the Jewish people were so inspired by the great miracle Hakadosh Boruch Hu had done for us that they wanted specifically to light it in a state of purity. As we mentioned, according to the Rambam, one does not light one lamp from another; instead, one always uses a piece of wood, out of respect for the menorah. There is a disagreement about whether this is done on Shabbos too, with the piece of wood,

1:05:53 Speaker 2 or whether a flame is taken from another lamp. There are many opinions on this. But the source of the fire, as we said, was either the altar, the Beis Hamoked, or the Beis Hanitzotz. And during most of the years when the Beis Hamikdash stood—may it be rebuilt speedily in our days, amen—the flame was taken from one of the burning lamps, from the western lamp, which burned from evening until morning. Who performed the service in the Beis Hamikdash? Who was permitted to serve there? The service could be performed only by kohanim; non-kohanim were forbidden to perform it. A non-kohen who performed the service was liable to death at the hands of Heaven. The Rambam describes cases brought in the Gemara that are even more severe, including kohanim who served without being ritually pure. In any case, the service was performed by kohanim. Kohanim are the ones who serve. But lighting is not considered part of the service. According to the view that preparing the lamps is the service, while lighting them is not, preparing them is valid only when done by a kohen, but a non-kohen may light them. We also mentioned in the previous class that Rabbi Mordechai Eliyahu said he was certain that when the Beis Hamikdash is rebuilt, the Rebbe would be the first non-kohen to light the menorah: a Jew who has kindled the souls of so many other Jews deserves to light the menorah as well. Still, even if a non-kohen may light it, it is preferable from the outset for the service to be performed by a kohen. And, of course, everyone should be ritually pure. As we said, that is how it should be from the outset. Some say—again, not according to the Rambam’s view that the menorah was also lit in the morning—that in the morning they only wiped and cleaned the lamps. The lamp would then be left empty, clean, and prepared, and only toward evening would they put in the wicks and oil. But according to the Rambam, whose ruling we know from the Rebbe, that approach is not necessarily the halachic one. We would prepare the lamps

1:08:17 Speaker 2 both in the morning and in the evening, and light them. As for the disagreement between Abba Shaul and the Sages about the order of the service: according to the Sages, after preparing two lamps they would burn the sacrificial limbs on the altar. According to Abba Shaul—as we say every morning—the service after those two lamps was the incense. So either way there were two kinds of burning: according to Abba Shaul, it was the incense offered inside; according to the Sages, it was the limbs of the burnt offering, which had already been slaughtered as part of the service. We see that the service of the menorah is part of our daily service in the Beis Hamikdash, part of our work to bring light every day. The Rebbe explains the disagreement between Rabbi and Elazar about how the menorah was positioned, from north to south, and what was primary: was it the leader, represented by the western lamp, or [unclear]? According to this, the western lamp represents malchus. It influences all the others, stands alongside them, and seeks to illuminate them all—or is it, rather, what causes them all to rise and connect? The point for us is that the menorah’s fire was meant to awaken in us the desire to elevate our character traits to G-dly traits, to connect ourselves to higher levels and to a deeper connection with the service of Hashem. The word adam, “person,” suggests adameh la’Elyon, “I will resemble the One Above.” And through this, with Hashem’s help, may the complete Geulah come speedily in our days, and may we merit to see our righteous Moshiach speedily in our days, amen.