The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

by Rav David Silverberg

The haftara for Parashat Teruma is taken from Sefer Melakhim I (5:26-6:13), and tells of the construction of the First Temple during the times of Shelomo. This project obviously parallels the construction of the Mishkan, which God commands in Parashat Teruma. One verse in this haftara tells us precisely in which year the construction of the Beit Ha-mikdash occurred: in the four hundred and eightieth year after Benei Yisrael's departure from Egypt. The Talmud Yerushalmi in Masekhet Rosh Hashanah (1:8) notes that at different stages in Benei Yisrael's history, the Tanakh employs different frames of reference in its presentation of chronology. Here, as mentioned, the Exodus serves as the frame of reference; the construction of the Mikdash is dated in terms of Yetzi'at Mitzrayim. Several chapters later, however, after the Temple has already been built, we read of a tribute given to Shelomo by Chiram, king of Tzor (9:10), and the verse tells us that this occurred twenty years after the Temple's construction. Once the Mikdash was built, years were counted not in reference to the Exodus, but rather in terms of the Temple's construction. This system, too, was only temporary, as after the Temple's destruction we find years referenced in terms of the destruction (Yechezkel 40:1 – "fourteen years after the city was defeated"). Finally, the Yerushalmi observes, Benei Yisrael deteriorated to the point where they could not even count years in reference to the Temple's destruction, and instead counted them based on the rule of the king under whose authority they lived (Chagai 1:1; Daniel 10:1).

What is the significance of these different systems of counting years?

Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his "Musar Ha-nevi'im" (Melakhim I 6:1), suggests that the different frames of reference express Benei Yisrael's various primary objectives at different points throughout their history. After the Exodus, when Benei Yisrael emerged as a free, independent nation, they focused their attention (or at least were supposed to focus their attention) on forging their national identity, developing themselves into the people God wanted them to become. This is represented by their use of the Exodus as the basis for their system of counting years. Once the Temple stood, however, this focus changed; their primary objective became the universal function of the Mikdash, which was, in effect, the universal function of Benei Yisrael. King Shlomo himself makes explicit reference to the Mikdash's role as a religious center for all people's on earth (Melakhim I 8:41-43), a theme echoed by later prophets (e.g. Yeshayahu 2:1-4; Mikha 4:1-3). By using the Temple's construction as their frame of reference when counting years, the nation expressed their focus upon this function of bringing the awareness of God and His message to all nations on earth.

We might apply Rav Ginsburg's theory to the final two stages, as well. After the Temple's destruction, Tanakh counts years in reference to that seminal event in our history. This perhaps means that from that point, we can no longer concentrate our efforts on our universal role, but must instead focus our attention on rectifying the current situation and bringing ourselves back to our previous position among the nations, with the Temple standing in Jerusalem. Ultimately, however, Am Yisrael's condition deteriorated to such an extent that we could only count years according to the gentile kings under whom we live. At this point, the best we can do is ensure our physical and spiritual survival in the hostile environment of exile, to work within the context of the foreign governments ruling over us to continue maintaining religious life. This will, hopefully, reverse the trend and bring us back to the point where we can work towards redemption and the rebuilding of the Temple, when we can once again fulfill the universal function for which we were chosen.

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Parashat Teruma deals with the Mishkan, the function of which is described in the famous verse, "They shall make for Me a Sanctuary, and I shall dwell in their midst" (25:8). The Midrash (Yalkut Shimoni, Shemot 365) tells of Moshe's astonishment upon hearing this command. He exclaimed, "Master of the world! It is written, 'Even the heavens to their uttermost reaches cannot contain You' – and You say, 'They shall make for Me a Sanctuary'?!" God's response, as recorded in the Midrash, seems very puzzling: "Moshe, it is not as you think. Rather, twenty planks to the north, twenty planks to the south, and eight to the west, and I descend and constrict My Shekhina downward… "

That God's response appears to simply repeat the question might be precisely the Midrash's intent: God does not answer Moshe's question, because the human being cannot possibly grasp the mechanics by which the infinite dwells within the finite. Therefore, rather than addressing Moshe's question, God simply assures him that this entire enterprise "is not as you think," it lies well beyond the limits of human comprehension. The Almighty therefore simply restates the facts, namely, that if Benei Yisrael follow His rules and guidelines for the construction of the Mikdash, His Shekhina will descend and take residence in the Sanctuary.

But although we are not expected or entitled to understand how this process works, we can and must understand its implications. The verse cited by the Midrash - "Even the heavens to their uttermost reaches cannot contain You" - is taken from King Shlomo's emotional prayer to God at the Temple's consecration, as recorded in Sefer Melakhim I (chapter 8). Shlomo asks the Almighty, "But will God really dwell on earth? Even the heavens to their uttermost reaches cannot contain You, how much less this House that I have built!" (8:27). Just as, according to the aforementioned Midrash, Moshe receives no answer to the unanswerable paradox of the Mishkan, Shelomo, the wisest of all men, makes no attempt at resolving the problem. Instead, in the very next verses, he appears to turn his attention to an entirely different topic:

Shelomo then proceeds to enumerate several different instances where prayers will be offered in or towards the Temple: when a man sins and repents, during enemy attack, in times of drought or disease, when a gentile comes to visit the Temple, and when Benei Yisrael find themselves in exile. Shelomo beseeches God to accept the prayers offered to Him through the Mikdash in all of these situations. He concludes, "May Your eyes be open to the supplication of Your servant and the supplication of Your people Israel, and may You heed them whenever they call upon You" (8:52).

Why does Shelomo shift his attention onto the issue of prayer and the Temple's function in this regard? Why is this the continuation of the question he poses regarding the feasibility of God's residence in a manmade structure?

Rav Soloveitchik (cited in Rav Herschel Shachtar's "Mi-pninei Rabbenu," pp.297-300) explained that the theme of prayer is indeed the appropriate response to the concept of God's residence in the Mikdash. The implication of this incomprehensible phenomenon is God's desire for a relationship and closeness with the human being. While we cannot understand the reason for this desire or how it facilitates God's "confinement," so-to-speak, within a Beit Ha-mikdash, we must respond to it, and that we do through prayer. If God decided to dwell among us, however this is accomplished, it means that He asks that we knock on His door and speak with Him of all our concerns and aspirations without fear or shame. Therefore, after expressithe obvious and inherent paradox latent within the very concept of a Temple, Shelomo proceeds to express the most appropriate response to this concept – the yearning for a meaningful and ongoing relationship with the God who dwells within our midst.

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The first item in the Mishkan described in Parashat Teruma is the aron (ark). The Torah tells that the aron was to be covered by a covering called the "kapporet," a block of gold with the images of keruvim (cherubim) on both ends.

In studying the conceptual underpinnings of the aron, one might inquire as to the relationship between the aron and the keruvim. Do these two items together constitute a single identity – a closed ark, or do we have here two separate keilim (vessels) that the Torah requires to place one on top of the other?

The presentation of these laws in the Torah gives us conflicting clues. On the one hand, the laws of both the aron and the kapporet appear in a single paragraph in the Chumash (25:10-22), whereas all other keilim of the Mishkan receive their own, individual paragraphs. This seems to indicate that the kapporet has no independent significance beyond its function as a covering over the aron, and thus the aron and kapporet together count as only a single vessel. On the other hand, they are made from two different materials: the aron is made from gold-plated wood, while the kapporet consisted of nothing but pure gold. Furthermore, twice in this paragraph do we find God's instruction to place the luchot (tablets with the Ten Commandments) inside the aron, in almost identical wording. This command appears first at the conclusion of the discussion of the aron, just before the Torah begins describing the kapporet (25:16), and then again at the paragraph's conclusion (verse 21). We might understand this repetition as an indication that that we must read this paragraph as two distinct sections – one discussing the aron, the other, the keruvim, both subsections marked with the same concluding verses.

It would appear, then, that the Torah describes here two different keilim that Benei Yisrael were to bring together and combine with one another. Wherein lies the symbolic meaning of this combination?

As we saw. the function of the aron is to contain the luchot. The kapporet, however, is assigned a different role: "There I will meet with you [Moshe], and I will impart to you – from above the kapporet, from between the two keruvim that are on top of the Ark of the Pact – all that I will command you concerning the Israelite people" (verse 22). The kapporet is where the Shekhina rests, so-to-speak, inside the Mishkan, and thus it is from there that the Almighty speaks with Moshe. The combination between the aron and the kapporet symbolizes the relationship that must exist between the Torah, represented by the aron, and the experience of hashra'at ha-Shekhina (the resting of the Shekhina), signified by the kapporet. On the one hand, the aron requires a kapporet: the involvement in and practice of Torah must be accompanied by an awareness of the Shekhina, an understanding that the Torah was given to us by God and is the means by which we develop a relationship with Him. Learning and practicing Torah must have the "covering" of the Shekhina, they must be performed within the context of the experience of Shekhina. Conversely, there cannot be a kapporet – spiritual experience and the pursuit of a relationship with God – without an aron, without Torah learning and observance. Just as the kapporet has no meaning independent of the aron, so is any attempt at religious experience meaningless without intensive involvement in Torah and mitzvot.

(Based on Rav Yigal Ariel, "Oz Melekh," pp. 354-355)

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During this period, in between Rosh Chodesh Adar and Purim, people customarily cite – or sing – the famous Talmudic adage, "Mi-she'nikhnas Adar marbim be-simcha" – "When Adar arrives, we increase our joy." This saying appears in Masekhet Ta'anit (29a), and the full text of the passage reads as follows: "Rabbi Yehuda the son of Rav Shemuel Bar Sheilat said in the name of Rav: Just as when Av arrives we decrease our joy, so, too, when Adar arrives, we increase our joy."

It is noteworthy, however, that neither the Rambam nor the Shulchan Arukh codifies this halakha, that we are to increase our joy during the month of Adar. Whereas they both mention the halakha to decrease one's joy during the month of Av (Rambam – Hilkhot Ta'aniyot, 5; Shulchan Arukh – O.C. 551), neither includes in his work the parallel halakha regarding the month of Adar. (We already discussed this issue in our S.A.L.T. series three years ago; this year we will address this question in greater detail.)

The Chatam Sofer (responsa, O.C. 160) suggests the following explanation. Rav, the author of the aforementioned passage comparing Adar and Av, happens to be of the opinion (as cited there in Masekhet Ta'anit) that the laws of mourning we observe during the week before Tisha B'Av apply already from Rosh Chodesh Av. He bases his position on a verse in Sefer Hoshea (2:13) – "I will end all her rejoicing: her festivals, months and Sabbaths." Rav understands the word "months" to refer to the entire month of Av, in which the destruction took place, and we must therefore refrain from all joyous activity during the month of Av. Consistent with his position, Rav maintains that starting from Rosh Chodesh Adar, we must increase our joy. Just as he adopts the literal meaning of the word "month" in Sefer Hoshea, so does he interpret the verse in Megilat Ester – "and the month which had been transformed for them… to one of festive joy" (9:22) – to imply that festivities should begin on Rosh Chodesh Adar. Starting from Rosh Chodesh Adar, then, Rav would forbid fasting, conducting eulogies, and other somber activities prohibited during periods of joy.

Halakha, however, does not accept this view of Rav. Rather, we follow the position that we begin observing the mourning laws only during the week of Tisha B'Av (though Asheknazim later began observing several mourning practices starting from Rosh Chodesh Av). When the mishna (there in Ta'anit) stated that "when Av arrives we decrease our joy," it refers not to the standard laws of mourning, but rather to the prohibition against particular, extraordinary forms of joy – namely, initiating festive building projects, such as wedding halls and the like. This prohibition obviously has no converse parallel during the month of Adar (Chazal wouldn't require us to build wedding halls during Adar!!), and therefore Halakha does not accept Rav's equation requiring increased joy in Adar just as we decrease our joy during Av.

It turns out, then, according to the Chatam Sofer, that Halakha does not follow the view of "mi-she'nikhnas Adar marbim be-simcha."

A much different approach to this issue (based partially on the teachings of Chassidut) is taken by Rav Chayim Eliezer Shapiro of Munkatch, in his "Nimukei Orach Chayim." He claims that although, indeed, Halakha acknowledges this converse parallel between the months of Av and Adar, a basic distinction exists between the decreasing of joy during Av and the increasing of joy during Adar. When it comes to Av, Chazal, as we saw, gave us very specific guidelines, forbidding specific types of building. They did so, Rav Shapiro explains, because they did want us to be overcome by sadness and despair during Av. Thus, when establishing the obligation to decrease our joy in this month, they placed this obligation within a very specific context so that we do not fall into melancholy and depression. Regarding Adar, however, there was obviously no such concern. Chazal intentionally gave no specific guidelines for increasing our joy during Adar, because they wanted us to increase our joy generally in any way we can.

This distinction explains why the Rambam and Shulchan Arukh mention the halakha regarding Av but omit the requirement to increase our joy during Adar. These two works discuss practical, concrete laws, and do not address general rules involving our minds and hearts. Since the halakha of "Mi-she'nikhnas Adar be-simcha" has no specific laws associated with it, it has no place in the Rambam's Mishneh Torah or the Shulchan Arukh.

Yet a third explanation appears in Rav Shimon Sofer's "Hit'orerut Teshuva," who claims that the Shulchan Arukh felt it unnecessary to spell out this obligation, since it emerges implicitly from one of his rulings concerning Purim. The Shulchan Arukh rules (688:7), based on the Talmud Yerushalmi, that under extenuating circumstances, such as if one must embark on a journey and cannot read or hear the Megila on Purim, he may read it as early as Rosh Chodesh Adar. The "Hit'orerut Teshuva" contends that implicit in this ruling is the assumption that to one extent or another, Purim celebration begins already on Rosh Chodesh Adar. The Shulchan Arukh therefore had no need to explicitly mention that we increase our joy with the onset of the month of Adar.

Finally, the Steipler Gaon is cited as explaining that "Mi-she'nikhnas Adar marbin be-simcha" was never intended as a halakhic ruling at all. Rather, it expresses a statement of fact: on some level, our joy naturally increases with the onset of the month of Adar. The Rambam and Shulchan Arukh therefore omit this statement, since it describes a reality rather than imposing an obligation.

It is unclear, however, how this explanation accommodates the equation drawn between the reduction of joy during Av and the increase of joy during Adar.

(Based on an article by Yaakov Aharon Landau in this past weekend's special edition of "Hamodia")

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Parashat Teruma contains the instructions concerning the building of the Mishkan and its keilim ("vessels"), beginning with the aron (ark). As we discussed earlier this week, the aron was covered by a golden kapporet (covering), which featured two "keruvim" with their wings spread hovering over the ark (see 25:18-20). The Torah tells that God spoke to Moshe from in between the two keruvim (verse 22; see also Bamidbar 7:89).

Many have drawn an association between the keruvim depicted in the Mishkan and the only other instance of keruvim in the Torah – in Parashat Bereishit. After Adam and Chava's eviction from Gan Eden as a result of their having partaken of the forbidden tree, God places keruvim at the entrance of the garden "to guard the path to the tree of life" (Bereishit 3:24). The term "va-yashken" ("He stationed") describing God's placement of the keruvim outside the garden, which evolves from the same root as the word "Mishkan," reinforces this association.

The explanation often given to this connection between the Mishkan and Gan Eden is that the former serves to enable the human being to return to the latter. After man's sin, he was banished from Gan Eden and forbidden to return. The sword-wielding keruvim stationed at the garden's entrance represents mankind's exclusion from the existence he no longer deserved. The Mishkan signifies the possibility of man's return – on some level – to the primordial, ideal state from which he was driven. The Mishkan affords a person the opportunity to experience in the most intense form possible communion with the Almighty – a closeness that existed before Adam and Chava's sin in Gan Eden. With the construction of the Mishkan, the keruvim can leave their station at the entrance of Gan Eden and stand in the Mishkan, where they invite the human being inside to meet with God.

What exactly were the keruvim? What did they look like? Rashi (to 25:18), based on Chazal, informs us that they were figures with the faces of small children. The Gemara (Masekhet Yoma 54a-b) informs us that the keruvim were fashioned in an embracing position, resembling two lovers. Surprisingly, the Zohar (Vayikra 59a) indicates that the two keruvim were male and female. What emerges, then, is an image that we would hardly expect to find at all in the Mishkan, certainly not at the very holiest point in the Mishkan – the very point from where God spoke, as it were. Indeed, the Gemara (Yoma 54b) tells of the astonishment of the Babylonian marauders when they entered the innermost chamber of the Temple at the time of its destruction. Understandably, they would never have imagined that hidden in Judaism's holiest chamber is a graven image of a young male and female embracing one another! How can we explain the symbolic meaning behind the keruvim?

Rabbi Ari D. Kahn, in his work "Explorations," suggests an explanation by first carefully examining the significance of the keruvim in Parashat Bereishit. The fact that the keruvim are not mentioned at all before Adam and Chava sin, he argues, might indicate that they represent Adam and Chava themselves. More specifically, they represent Adam and Chava as they were before their sin. The Torah tells that after partaking of the forbidden fruit, "The eyes of both of them were opened and they perceived that they were naked; and they sewed together fig leaves and made themselves loincloths" (Bereishit 3:7). After the sin Adam and Chava lost the purity and innocence with which they were created. This innocence is symbolized by the keruvim – an unclothed male and female. Rabbi Kahn writes, "In the place of this jaded couple… now stood an innocent-looking couple, representing Adam and Chava before the sin, guarding the passage to the tree of life, the Torah."

In the Mishkan and Temple, too, the keruvim represent Adam and Chava before their sin. Just as Adam and Chava were initially created as a single human being (see Rashi, Bereishit 1:27), so are the keruvim molded from a single block of gold. Thus, the Mishkan serves as a means of escaping from the current world of cynicism, perversion and alienation from God, to a far more sublime reality of innocence and purity. The Babylonian warriors who discovered the keruvim ridiculed what they perceived as a symbol of eroticism in Judaism's holiest site, because they could not appreciate the world of innocence the keruvim represent, the world to which the Temple affords mankind the opportunity to return.

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We have devoted several of our discussions this week to the aron (ark), the first item in the Mishkan described in Parashat Teruma, a topic we will continue discussing today. The Gemara in Masekhet Yoma (53b) cites a dispute among the tannaim concerning the fate of the aron built by Benei Yisrael in the wilderness of Sinai. One view maintains that the aron was buried beneath the site of the Temple in Jerusalem, whereas the other position holds that it was taken by the Babylonians into exile along with the rest of the Temple treasuries. The Gemara explains that both tannaim arrived at their respective positions based on verses in Tanakh. A verse in Sefer Melakhim I (8:8) describes the position of the aron at the time of the Temple's inauguration and concludes that it remained this way "until this very day" – implying that even at the time of the writing of Sefer Melakhim, the aron was situated in that location. Evidently, then, it was hid underneath the Temple. The second view, by contrast, bases itself on three verses. Towards the very end of Divrei Hayamim II (36:10), we read that the Babylonian emperor exiled King Yehyakhin (the Jewish king) along with "the precious vessels of the House of the Lord" – which the Gemara understands as a reference to the aron. Secondly, the prophet Yeshayahu (39:6) condemns the boastful manner in which King Chizkiyahu displayed the Temple treasuries to the Babylonian emissaries who came to visit Jerusalem, and warns that all those treasures will be exiled to Babylon. Yeshayahu adds, "not a 'davar' [literally, 'thing'] will remain." The Gemara suggests that the word "davar" relates to the word "dibrot" – or "commandments," a reference to the Ten Commandments engraved on the two tablets contained in the ark. According to this reading of the verse, then, the aron was taken into exile along with the rest of the Temple's furnishings. Finally, the Gemara cites a verse from Sefer Eikha (1:6): "Gone from Fair Zion are all that were her glory ['hadara']." The Gemara suggests that we interpret the word "hadara" as "chadara," referring to that which the Jews hadkept hidden in a closed room, namely, the aron. Accordingly, the ark, too, was taken from Jerusalem.

In any event, both views agree that the aron was absent from the Second Temple. The mishna in Masekhet Yoma (ibid.) thus has to explain how the kohanim gedolim in the Second Temple would sprinkle the sacrificial blood on Yom Kippur, which is ideally to be sprinkled towards the aron.

The Rashash, in his commentary to this Gemara, poses a very simple question: why did the builders of the Second Temple not make a new aron? Once the Torah requires Benei Yisrael to (when possible) build a Mikdash with all its furnishings (see Rambam, beginning of Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira), why did they not replace the lost aron?

The Rashash answers that they could not build a new aron because they did not have a fundamental prerequisite for the aron: the tablets, which were lost together with the aron. As we noted earlier in this week, in Parashat Teruma God explicitly instructs Moshe to place the two luchot inside the aron (25:16, 21). We might assume, therefore, that without the luchot, an aron serves no purpose. The Rashash initially questions this assumption in light of the fact that according to Rashi (Shemot 28:30) and the Ra'avad (Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira 4:1), in the Second Temple the Jews also did not have the "urim ve-tumim" – the sacred script placed inside the kohen gadol's breastplate. And yet, the kohanim gedolim in the Second Temple nevertheless wore the breastplate, despite the Torah's instruction, "You shall place inside the breastplate of judgment the urim ve-tumim" (28:30). If this requirement did not preclude the possibility of wearing a breastplate without the urim ve-tumim, asks the Rashash, then why should the obligation to place the luchot inside the aron negate the ark's significance if it does not contain the luchot?

Ultimately, however, the Rashash distinguishes between the aron and the choshen, such that indeed there cannot be an aron without luchot, whereas we would permit a kohen gadol to wear a choshen even in the absence of the urim ve-tumim. Already Rashi, in his commentary to 25:21, notes the Torah's seemingly unnecessary repetition of the command to place the luchot inside the aron. The Rashash explains that perhaps this is an example of the classic principle regarding the laws of the Temple and sacrifices – "shina alav ha-katuv le-akeiv." Meaning, when the Torah repeats a command involving these halakhot, it renders that command "le-ikuva" – indispensable for the fulfillment of the given mitzva. In this case, then, the second instruction indicates that Benei Yisrael cannot fulfull the mitzva of constructing an aron if they cannot place the luchot inside it. The Rashash further notes that in Parashat Ki-Tisa (31:7), the Torah refers to the aron as "aron la-edut" – "the ark for the testimony," perhaps suggesting that the primary function of the ark is to contain the luchot. Understandably, then, the Jews who returned to Yerushalayim from the Babylonian exile saw no purpose in constructing a new aron for the Second Temple.

Symbolically, we can easily understand the basis for the Rashash's claim. As we've discussed, the ark, with the keruvim hovering over it, was the focal point of the resting of the Shekhina; it was from there that the Almighty spoke with Moshe in the Mishkan. The impossibility of having an ark without the tablets perhaps symbolizes the inherent impossibility of experiencing God's presence without strict adherence to His commandments. One cannot claim to develop a relationship, or engage in any form of communion, with the Almighty in the absence of the luchot, without committing himself to the dictates and demands of the Torah.

We should note that the Rashash concludes his discussion by raising a difficulty that he does not resolve. According to the view that Nevukhadnetzar, the Babylonian emperor, took the aron with him to Babylon, why was it not returned to Jerusalem along with the other Temple treasures during the time of Koresh, the benevolent Persian emperor who permitted the Jews to return to Jerusalem? Why did the aron, as opposed to all the other keilim, remain forever in the Babylonian exile? As mentioned, the Rashash offers no solution to this difficulty.

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In introducing to Moshe the laws of the Mishkan, as recorded in Parashat Teruma, God tells him, "Exactly as I show you – the pattern of the Mishkan and the pattern of all its furnishings – so shall you make it" (25:9). Rashi, in his commentary to this verse, claims that the clause "ve-khein ta'asu" ("so shall you make it") refers to subsequent generations. Not only must Moshe and his team of artisans comply with the guidelines set forth in this parasha regarding the construction of the Mishkan, so must Benei Yisrael for all time build the Mishkan and its furnishings according to these specifications.

The Ramban challenges Rashi's view on the basis of what appears to be very clear proof. In the First Temple, the mizbach ha-nechoshet (copper altar, situated in the azara, or courtyard, of the Temple) was much larger than the one built by Moshe for the Mishkan. As the Torah describes later in Parashat Teruma (27:1), the altar in the Mishkan was 5x5 cubits, whereas King Shelomo for his Temple built a mizbei'ach of a size of 20x20 cubits (Divrei Hayamim II 4:1). How, then, could Rashi possibly claim that the specifications outlined in Parashat Teruma apply for all time?

Several approaches have been taken by later writers to resolve this difficulty against Rashi's position. Rav Eliyahu Mizrachi contends that Rashi did not mean that all details concerning the Mishkan's construction must follow the specifications outlined in this parasha. Rather, the shape and proportions of the Mishkan and its keilim must comply with these guidelines. Therefore, it was enough for the altar in the First Temple to be perfectly square, just as the mizbei'ach in the Mishkan was, even if it had different dimensions. The "Kiryat Sefer" (a commentary on the Rambam's Mishneh Torah, in Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira, chapter 4) follows this approach, as well.

The Maharal, in his Gur Aryeh, explains differently, drawing a distinction between the mizbei'ach and other furnishing of the Mishkan. Halakha required that the mizbei'ach be firmly attached to the ground (Chagiga 27a; Mekhilta, Shemot 20:21). Therefore, the mizbei'ach is to be viewed not as one of the furnishings of the Mishkan, such as the menorah and shulchan, but rather as part of the building itself. Now clearly the structure of the Mikdash itself differed considerably from the Mishkan. By definition, the Mikdash is a permanent structure, and was therefore made from cedar wood, as opposed to the temporary Mishkan, which was more like a tent, made from cloth material. Once the essential structure of the Mikdash need not comply with the specifications of the Mishkan, the mizbei'ach, too, which, as we saw, is to be considered part of the actual building of the Miskan/Mikdash, can be made with different dimensions.

Yet a third approach is taken by the Or Ha-chayim, in his commentary to this verse. He cites a Gemara in Masekhet Zevachim (61a) which says explicitly that the dimensions given for the mizbei'ach are not "me'akeiv" – meaning, they are not indispensable for the altar's halakhic suitability. As the dimensions thus do not constitute an integral component of the required structure of the mizbei'ach, they are not included in the provision mentioned by Rashi requiring compliance with the guidelines of Parashat Teruma in subsequent generations.

Rav Shemuel Baruch Deutsch, in his "Birkat Kohen," notes that one may challenge this explanation of the Or Ha-chayim in light of the position of the Maharik (75), that the dimensions of the menorah, too, are not "me'akeiv." Since it appears that the specifications of the menorah, including its dimensions, were always adhered to in the Temple, we should conclude that even those laws which are not indispensable for the given item's suitability must optimally be followed. Therefore, the fact that the mizbei'ach's dimensions are not "me'a" would not help explain why the altar in the Temple differed in size from that in the Mishkan.

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