February 21, 2026|ד' אדר ה' אלפים תשפ"ו Teruma 5786 - What We Choose to Take with Us By Rabbi Beni Krohn

Throughout Parshas Teruma, we are introduced to the myriad of Keilim, vessels that were produced for use in the Mishkan. And, of course, one of the most integral keilim was the Aron, the Ark, which held the luchos and was housed in the Kodesh HaKodashim.

And while there are numerous halachos that are unique about the Aron, I want to highlight one such halacha.

When it comes to many of the keilim, the Shulchan, the Mizbeach, the Menorah, the psukim tell us that part of their production included the need for rings on their side, so that poles could be placed through them as a means of transporting them from one encampment to the next. The Aron was no different. It, too, had four rings, two on each side, and it had two golden poles that slid through those rings.

However, there is a halacha that applies only to the Aron and not to the other keilim, which perplexes Chazal. Says the Torah:

בְּטַבְּעֹת הָאָרֹן יִהְיוּ הַבַּדִּים לֹא יָסֻרוּ מִמֶּנּוּ:

The poles should be found inside the rings, and they must never be removed.

In fact, the gemara in Yuma (72a) notes that anyone who would remove the poles from the Aron would receive Malkus, lashes.

Not only that, the Psukim in Melachim I teach that the ends of the poles/badim would actually protrude through the Parochet, the curtain that separates that Kodesh from the Kodesh HaKodashim. That small protrusion of the badim was the way one knew that the Aron was in the Kodesh HaKodashim.

And the question, of course, is why? Why was it so important that the poles never be removed from the Aron?

The Daas Zekeinim MiBaalei HaTosfos offer a practical answer: We know that one is not supposed to touch the Aron. In fact, there is a story in Sefer Shmuel about someone who tried to catch the Aron from falling and lost his life. If that is the case, if one was required to constantly put the poles in and out every time the Aron needed to be moved, one might inadvertently touch it, which would be inappropriate because of its kedusha, and perhaps even dangerous.

The Meshech Chochma, Rav Meir Simcha HaKohein of Dvinsky, notes that the gemara tells us in Sota (35) that the Aron has Nosei Et Nosav, literally that it carried those that carried it. Meaning, even if someone was carrying the Aron on his shoulders, a neis, a miracle would occur and he actually didn't have to exert any energy at all. If that's true, then the poles, the badim, actually had no use even while they were being used. Therefore, says the Meshech Chochma, the halacha is that you must leave the poles on the Aron at all times, even when it isn't travelling at all.

Why? To show that just as it is obvious that the poles are totally unnecessary when the Aron is stationary, so too, even when it looks like the poles are necessary, they are totally superfluous then as well. The Badim remain on the Aron, according to the Meshech Chochma, to emphasize the miracles that occurred when it was carried.

Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch (and I believe others), though, offer a different explanation. He writes that the need for the badim to remain constantly on the Aron is a reflection of our mission as Jews to never allow the Torah and its values to remain stagnant, resting only in places of Kedusha. The Torah is not to remain only in the Beis HaMikdash, only in shuls and Batei Medrash. Rather, the Torah is in a constant state of preparedness to leave the confines of places of Kedusha to go anywhere and everywhere a Jew may find him or herself.

Rav Soloveitchik used to explain that this is the reason that we wake up in the morning and say Birchas HaTorah and learn a little bit, and then a person can spend the entire day involved in other things and not come back to learning for many hours and still he doesn't need to make a new bracha. How could that be? Wasn't there a hefsek, a break, from the bracha he made at 7am to the Torah learning he is learning now at 8pm? And he explained that even when a Jew isn't learning Torah, we take the values and ideals of Torah with us throughout the day. How do I speak when I'm with my colleagues and family? How careful am I when I crunch numbers on my tax return? Do I find a few minutes in the middle of the day to daven mincha?

The Torah, explains the Rav, doesn't only impact me when I am learning it. It comes with me wherever I am. I maintain a latent awareness of it at all times, and it impacts every choice I make throughout my day. And it is for this reason, says the Rav, that even if I haven't technically learned for hours, I don't need to make a new Birchas HaTorah, because the Torah was with me all the time.

I've always loved this answer of Rav Hirsch and Rav Soloveitchik, but one of my students in Yeshiva, Yedidya Blau, asked what I thought is an excellent question on this approach: If it's true that the reason the poles remain on the Aron is to symbolize this idea that the Torah must come with us wherever we go, then why make separate poles and slide them in, and make a halacha that you can't remove them? Just create the Aron with poles/badim that are welded on, so there's no possibility of removing them!

And he offered a beautiful answer (I think Rav Hirsch hints to this as well): Yes, the message of the badim is that the Torah should go with us wherever we go, but that is still a choice. We can be very well-meaning, connect to Torah at shul, at a shiur, and then not live our lives by its values. In order to really take the Torah with you wherever you go, you have to make the decision to make that a reality.

When Rav Yehuda Amital was founding Yeshivat Har Etzion and he was asked what would make his yeshiva different from others, he would often recount the following story:

One evening, the Baal HaTanya, Rav Schneur Zalman of Lidai, was learning in a room. Next door to him sat his grandson, the Tzemach Tzedek, who was also learning, and in an adjacent room the Tzemach Tzedek's infant son was sleeping.

At a certain point the baby began to cry, and the Baal HaTanya got up from his gemara, went to pick up the baby, and put him back to sleep. On his way back, he asked his grandson, "Didn't you hear the baby crying?" To which the Tzemach Tzedek replied, "I didn't. I was too involved in the gemara."

The Baal HaTanya turned back to his grandson and he said, "If your learning is such that it makes you unable to hear a baby cry, there is something wrong with your learning."

Rav Amital said: "The goal in our Yeshiva is to cultivate students who learn on a high level but also hear the baby cry!"

Rav Amital, I believe, was making this same point. To be a Torah Jew means that the Torah doesn't stay with me in the Beis Medrash, it transforms me into a different kind of person, but that transformation can only happen if we choose it, if we desire to allow the Torah to become part of who we are.

This was a very difficult week for all of us. The loss of Ari Lifschitz z"l is of course a tragedy first and foremost for his family, but it has also been a tragedy for our community. So many people have expressed just how challenging all of this has been for them.

But within all the sadness of these past few weeks, I have to say that I also have emerged inspired. Inspired by Ari, inspired by the Lifschitz family, and inspired by our community.

Ari, as was said by so many on Tuesday, was a person who lived his life in the service of others. Whether that was teaching bar mitzvah boys to lain, training young TVAC members what it means to serve, as a baal tefillah and a baal korei, as a remarkably dedicated father and husband, and as a friend that was there for those who needed him. And when he needed his friends, the community responded in remarkable ways. And those responses continued for years, right up until his very last day.

Meals, rides, tefillos, company. Whatever Ari and Michelle and family needed, there were so many people ready to serve. And yes, for many of you that was obvious because it's just who you are. But it truly is a choice. I personally witnessed remarkable acts of chesed these past few weeks, and with all of the sadness, like I said, I emerged even more inspired by who we are as a community.

But I have to say, so much of that was inspired by Ari and Michelle themselves. Their positivity, their Emunah, and their steadfast determination to live every day to its fullest is a model for each of us, and it is something I hope we can all take with us as we move forward from this tragedy. And that too was a choice, a choice to keep carrying the Aron with him each day, even as it became so difficult to do so.

It is my hope that we will each be inspired to make that same choice that Ari made, to carry the values of Torah with us wherever life takes us as well. Because if we can do that, then Ari's memory will continue to be perpetuated within our community for many, many years to come.