Avidan Halivni:

Why are we doing this? I have long had an interest in the concept of a chiddush – what it is, what it looks like, where it comes from – and what your book, and your work with Jewish Studio Project in general, has added to the conversation by expanding our understanding of the process of crafting new Torah. 

 

Rabbi Adina Allen:

I think about being in the Beit Midrash in rabbinical school and being so lit up by this practice of deep textual exploration that invites in each person's voice. I felt there was an energetic level of discourse that was happening in the Beit Midrash, and yet it still felt like there was a lot being left on the table. And it started to occur to me that if we're only doing dialectical speaking and only engaging with the intellect, there's a whole part of the self that's not being engaged. 

 

So what can be done to make it so that the Torah can be ever unfolding? That is the uniqueness of our own self coming in contact with the text and having that alchemical reaction happen. That can happen through words to a certain extent, but that leaves a lot left undiscovered that doesn't let the text drop in and down. That's where the creative process comes in.

 

AH:

Beautiful – in the sense of widening the tent. There's one version of widening the tent that draws in different voices, but which remains in the same modality of textual study. Part of the question of what a chiddush looks like is also playing with its form. What other type of derash is possible when you step out of the textual modality?  

 

RAA:

One important thing to add is that it's not just about different learners needing different things; a visual learner needing different things from a kinesthetic learner, and so on. Everyone can benefit from entering through all the different access points, and so this is for everyone, no matter how comfortable they are with this. Something totally new opens up when you engage Torah in a different way, no matter what your inherent proclivity is. 

 

AH:

What I like about the particular Hasidic text we’re about to study is that it actually weaves together the practice of writing new interpretations, or chiddushim, on Torah in a classical sense, with the paradigm of making art – which is why I wanted to study this with you in particular. 

 

This text comes from R. Moshe Chaim Ephraim of Sudilkov (Poland, 1748-1800), a grandson of the Baal Shem Tov also known as the Degel Mahane Ephraim, from his commentary on the weekly Torah portion. 

 

As we’ll see, it links together three creative processes – creating the universe, creating art for the Mishkan, and creating new Torah – and how all three are cosmically layered onto each other in a way that speaks to this exact tension and exploration.

 

​I.

 

“Moses thereupon had this proclamation made throughout the camp: ‘Let no man or woman make further effort toward gifts for the sanctuary!’ So the people stopped bringing: their efforts [melacha] were enough [dayam] for all the tasks [kol ha-melacha] to be done; more than enough [v’hoter].” (Ex. 36:6-7).

 

This verse is not clear at all: It should have said ‘the gold or the other materials were enough.’ What does it mean that the melacha was enough for all the tasks? Furthermore, there is a contradiction in terms: first it says that it was “enough,” and at the end it says “more than enough.”

 

AH:

The biblical hook for this Hasidic teaching is a verse from the end of Exodus which narrates the building of the Mishkan. “All the materials came from the people, and their efforts,” – which is my translation of the word melakha – “were enough, dayam, for all the tasks, all the labor, kol ha-melakha, to be done.” Meaning, Moses recognizes that they've hit their quota for all the materials that they need. And then the Torah adds another word, v'hoter – more than enough. 

 

So, which is it? Was it enough – dayam – or was it more than enough— v’hoter? The Degel Mahane Ephraim is pointing out that the word v’hoter is both unnecessary and contradictory. So what does that mean? 

​​

II.

 

There is a hint here, in my humble opinion: It is known from the Zohar and Tikkunim that the Mishkan contained the design of the cosmos…That is what is hinted in this verse [from Exodus]: “the efforts” = the effort of the Mishkan and its form; “were enough for the labor” = were enough for the labor of the six days of creation, subsumed in the labor to construct the Mishkan.. 

 

And as for that which says “to be done; more than enough” – read as if it were written in reverse order: “there was more to be done with it.” 

 

It is also known that the righteous, with the chiddushim of their Torah, create new heavens and earth, as it is written, “I have put My words in your mouth… to plant the skies and make foundation for the earth.” (Isaiah 51:16) [1]

 

This verse implies that even what was destined to be a novel creation of heaven and earth by way of chiddushim of Torah was also included in the [original] Mishkan. That is the significance of HOTeR / הותר, whose letters rearrange to spell TORaH תורה. i.e. what will be done – by way of Torah – to renew Creation was also included in the efforts to create the Mishkan.

 

AH:

Let’s first touch on the conceptual framework from the Zohar, that there is a cosmic parallel of the creation of the heavens and the earth to the creation of the Mishkan. In the same way that the Zohar imagines a cosmic blueprint in the form of a primordial Torah, there's an understanding of the process of creating the Mishkan that is akin to the process of creating the universe. That’s why both efforts are described with the same word melacha. [2] Therefore, by reading into the creation of the Mishkan, you can glimpse an insight into the creation of the world, since they share that cosmic architecture. 

 

He then quotes a verse from Isaiah that claims that the righteous, when they come up with new Torah (“chiddushim”), also create new heavens and earth. 

 

And then he brings it all together — Mishkan, universe, and Torah — using the textual link of “hoter,” which shares the same letters as “Torah.” Meaning: the same way that the Mishkan also included the “more than enough,” there was also some excess, some extra parts, some undefined parts yet in its building, there's also more undefined parts of Torah from the outset. It was “enough” in the same way that it was enough to create the world and create the Mishkan and give the Torah. But there was more to it, almost built-in from the start, or from the people, that was yet unrealized.

 

RAA:

Can I tell you what it makes me think of? There's something there about the nadiv lev, the willing, uplifted heart, abundance and generosity, and how that relates to the creative flow. [3] There was enough to make the Mishkan. But then there was more than just the “enoughness” of stuff — the surplus was hidden, on the energetic level, not on the tangible level. And that surplus is what allows for the ever unfolding ongoingness of creation. Almost like the notion from Lewis Hyde, “The gift must always move.” [4] You give more, and then more comes back to you.

 

I feel that way with the creative process. If you try to hold back materials or an idea or you say, I don't want to write this. Maybe you're being protective, but it stops flowing. But when the energy of the universe flows into you, I think that's what a chiddush is. When we are open to the cells of our selves mixing with the eternal flow of the universe, something unique and life-giving is able to come out – which then produces more things. That way that the generous abundance produces and leads to more of the same. While you might think that giving would lead to a depletion, giving in this way actually just leads to more and more abundance and the ongoing process of creation. 

  

 

III.

 

“And the ability to instruct, God instilled in [Betzalel]’s heart.” (Exodus 35:34) [5] This verse was rendered into Aramaic as "to instruct the crafts." [6]

 

…It is known [from the Zohar] that “the Holy Blessed One consulted the Torah and created the world, as the verse implies, "I [Wisdom] was with Him as a confidant (oman)" (Prov. 8:30). Do not read [it as], "confidant," but rather [as], "craftsman (uman)." [7]

 

It is [also] known that the Tabernacle was also a model of the design of the entire creation of the heavens and the earth. For everything was included in it in order to connect the higher beings and the lower beings, as is found in the commentators and the Midrash, that everything that was stated with regards to Creation was stated with the Tabernacle. [8]

 

…It is thus that for the building of the Tabernacle, it is required to know how to combine the letters through which the heavens and the earth were created. And this is [the meaning of] that which the Sages, may their memory be blessed, said, "Betzalel knew how to combine the letters with which the heavens and the earth were created.” (Berakhot 55a) Those were the letters of the Torah, through which the world was built. 

 

And that is what it hints in this verse [about Betzalel]: "And the ability to instruct (le-horot) he instilled in his heart." (Ex. 35:34) Put in reverse order: “in his heart he instilled Torah.” And that is what was translated into Aramaic as, "and to teach the crafts." Meaning, that he would teach and study the Torah, which is the craft of the Holy Blessed One, with the combination of the letters through which the heavens and the earth were created. And through this, he was also able to make designs for the service and crafts for the Tabernacle. 

 

AH:

What strikes me as so remarkable here is the explicit comparison of the creation of the world and the creation of new Torah to craftsmanship! The text even names Betzalel, the paradigmatic craftsman, as someone with the capacity to literally create new worlds through his combinations of letters. 

 

But to draw this out even clearer, that process of combining letters is not exclusively literary – and is in fact intensely artistic. The classical sources say that in order to create new worlds you need to know how to combine the letters of the primordial Torah, but in the Hasidic re-imagination of that notion presented by this teaching, that idea is actually referring to craftsmanship. 

 

RAA:

I’d add – the text plays with these descriptions of the omen (“confidant”) versus the oman (“artist”). But it also can be read as “midwife” or “nursemaid” (“omen”), like the passage in the Midrash. [9] It evokes the image of needing to combine different things and then to open yourself and surrender and let something be brought out. And to emphasize “nursemaid” there — a life-giving nurturance or sustenance. There’s definitely a softening of something that takes place. 

 

AH:

Exactly like the alchemical element you mentioned before – that chiddush comes from new combinations and being able to see things in new ways. There’s a three-part alchemical formula of “person + text + modality” that makes up any interpretative practice, and chiddush comes from playing with the pieces of that formula. In other words, how does one do chiddush? Take those three elements of the formula and experiment with any or all of them, just to see what happens from that alchemical reaction – because that particular combination might have never taken place before.

 

RAA:

You need to know how to combine the letters. But again, in the sense of utilizing different modalities of how one can engage, because I think there is an idea of knowing how to combine the letters. Like, I know that these letters can make these different words and I can recombine them. But I think in the creative, artistic process, people – and I've experienced this again and again with people who don't know Hebrew, don't “know Torah,” – there's a combining of the letters that happens that is based on “this looks beautiful to me” or “I'm following pleasure.” And that's where a new interpretation comes in. 

 

That's what I'm most excited about — where the interpretation comes from, the way that following pleasure, beauty, aesthetic, whatever it is, can then lead to an interpretation that your rational mind had no idea was even there. And you might not even know what it means.

 

AH:

Quieting the rational piece, the technical piece of yourself, and cultivating that nadiv lev.

 

RAA:

It's the oscillatory practice between those two things. Because then you have to come back and say, okay, so what does this mean? There’s an exercise of making meaning of it. But I think if you only stay in the mindset of needing to make meaning, it's really hard to let a chiddush come through because for a chiddush, you want to access what you don't yet know.

 

AH:

One other framework for articulating that point is the contrast between the sefirah of chokhmah (wisdom) and the sefirah of binah (understanding). [10] Chokhmah as the inspiration, as the creative urge, the right side of the brain. And then you apply binah to it with your cognition or intellect, putting it in categories and making sense and meaning of it. But it’s important not to get stuck at the binah level.

 

RAA:

Correct. And how beautiful is it that he quotes the verse from Proverbs “I, Chokhmah, was with God.” The eternal wisdom, deeper than any of us, that actually underlies everything and can be accessed through from all of us. Kol Chakham Lev, “everyone of wise heart” — letting your heart be open to that Chokhmah, speaking through it or coming into it. [11] 

 

​IV.

 

And the Torah is eternality: in each and every era, we are able to build a Mishkan to God in our hearts through Torah and mitzvot, as is written “And I will dwell in their midst” (Ex. 25:8) – it is not written in its midst but rather in their midst. …

 

May God give us merit to have the Shekhinah [Divine Presence] dwell within us speedily and in our days.

 

RAA:

This is ultimately what we're trying to do with Jewish Studio Project. That's the aim and intent of all of it. I say in the book that both the studio and the Beit Midrash serve the same function as the Mishkan. Each of these are places where we come to connect with the Divine, while also struggling with meaning in our lives, the world, and our shared tradition. [12] In the way that the Mishkan was the thing that all religions had, the point that connects heaven and earth – as Mircea Eliade puts it, the “axis mundi.” [13] That's what we are then becoming. 

 

This also touches on another piece from my book – that the Mishkan is both product and process. It's not one or the other. It's not just that we made this thing so we could have it. The process of doing it made us able to be like a Mishkan ourselves. [14]

 

AH:

The last line of the source really brings that out – and these closing lines are usually throwaway or cliched endings, but it’s really salient here. The idea being, that by engaging in the creative process we each have the ability to turn ourselves into the Mishkan, that dwelling place for God on Earth.

 

RAA:

It certainly feels connected to when two people study Torah and the Shekhinah dwells among them. [15] And that's ultimately how you know what you’ve come up with is a chiddush. You feel that Divine Presence. I think of making source sheets, where the difference — and I try to teach this in all of our trainings — between a “smart” source sheet, where it’s more about how the ideas line up and examining the play on words, and a source sheet when it's like, I feel alive. My heart opens. I feel. It moves something. There is a chiddush there for me when I've been opened, and now I want to offer that to others. 

 

AH:

It’s totally a feeling, the feeling of the Shekhinah dwelling within us. It’s like leaving a flow state, or when you notice a reshimu, a residue, of the experience afterwards. 

 

RAA:

It's Eros for sure. You feel butterflies. I feel it's like a love relationship. I really feel that way. You hear the sages write about this and I certainly have felt moments of “I don't want to be taken away by any of my actual relationships. I just want to be in this, don't take me away from this.” And that's the pleasure, the beauty, the Eros, the flow state. 

 

AH:

Can you share any reflections on the overall ongoing project of crafting chiddushim for Torah and the role of Jewish Studio Project in it?

 

RAA:

It's always hard to describe to people what the Jewish Studio Process (our core methodology) is and what it does because it does so many things. But I think that relates to the idea of connecting heaven and the earth. Meaning, it is a learning methodology for the Beit Midrash. But it is also akin to a therapeutic practice. It is a spiritual process like prayer. It is an art and a making process, and all of those things come together. That's what I mean by connecting heaven and earth. A chiddush does rely upon my frustration at the grocery store today, or that my kids are really hard. Those things factor in and aren't extra or on the side — it is the mixing of those experiences with these texts that lead to chiddush. It has to be grounded in the real world, in our actual lived life experiences. And when all those parts are welcome, invited, and needed, that's when the soup becomes really rich and where these chiddushim emerge from. 

 

And so it is the way I've been able to find and create really generative Beit Midrash spaces for people of all different backgrounds and experiences and types of knowledge. And that feels really exciting to me, especially in a world where we're becoming more and more polarized, separated, and bifurcated by all the different things that define us. We don't want to be in a “dumbed down” or not rigorous space. We want rigor, but how do we have rigor be defined by other things?

 

AH:

Process, yes. To really hold up the notion of process here. The “Beit Midrash” as the place of process, the “House of Process.”

 

RAA:

It's an ever-ongoing, generative, cyclical process of learning and adding. And that in doing so you're doing a service to tradition and to Torah. That is the honor you give to Torah, to engage in a process of creating chiddushim. That's what Torah wants. I feel Her as an entity; She wants that. Whereas many people, I think, see it as not wanting to challenge tradition, or that that's what the tradition is there for, I believe that this is what the tradition is.

 

AH:

And God wants that too, the Zohar suggests. That every time a chiddush happens, it flies up to the heavens, and God delights in it and kisses it and puts a thousand crowns on it. [16] Again, that Eros. 

 

RAA:

And we haven't even talked about Shavuot. I know we're at time, but like, obviously Shavuot…

 

AH:

I mean, that's for the reader to decide for themselves.

 

 

Endnotes:

​

[1] See Zohar, Introduction 11.61. 

[2] See Gen 2:1-4, Exodus 40:33. 

[3] Nadiv Lev is often rendered as “generous heart,” see Exodus 25:2. See also Adina Allen, “Nurturing Art: The Sacred Work of Creativity“ (Huffington Post, February 18, 2016). 

[4] Lewis Hyde, The Gift: Creativity and the Artist in the Modern World (2007). The excerpt in question can be found here. 

[5] Betzalel was the Israelite appointed by God to lead the efforts to create the Tabernacle as described in Exodus 31:1-6. For more background on Betzalel, see here. 

[6] Targum Jonathan on Exodus 35:34.

[7] Zohar Terumah 61. See also Genesis Rabbah 1:1. 

[8] Midrash Tanchuma Pekudei 2:3.

[9] Bereishit Rabbah 1:1. 

[10] For more on the associations between chokhmah and binah and the intellect, see Drob, Sanford L. “The Sefirot: Kabbalistic Archetypes of Mind and Creation” CrossCurrents 47, no. 1 (1997): 5–29. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24460919. 

[11] Exodus 36:1, “Let Betzalel and Oholiab and all the skilled (lit. wise) persons (‘Kol Chacham Lev’) whom God has endowed with skill and ability to perform expertly all the tasks connected with the service of the sanctuary carry out all that God has commanded.”

[12] Adina Allen, The Place of All Possibility: Cultivating Creativity Through Ancient Jewish Wisdom (Brooklyn: Ayin Press, 2024), 68.

[13] See Mircea Eliade, The Myth of the Eternal Return.

[14] Allen, The Place of All Possibility, 91-92. 

[15] Mishnah Avot 3:2.

[16] Zohar Introduction 11.61.