It centers around Betzalel, the incredibly skilled artisan chosen to build the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, the portable sanctuary that accompanied the Israelites in the desert.
The Torah (Exodus 31:2) states, "See, I have called by name Betzalel..." Now, the Midrash, the interpretive tradition, notices something interesting: it doesn't say "I have called by name Betzalel" directly, but rather, "See, I have called." Why the emphasis on "see"?
The story goes that when Moses ascended Mount Sinai, God showed him the plans for the entire Tabernacle – every vessel, every detail. "You shall craft a candelabrum," God said (Exodus 25:31). "You shall craft a table" (Exodus 25:23). "You shall craft an altar" (Exodus 30:1). Moses, understandably, thought he himself would be the one doing all the crafting.
But God had other plans. As Shemot Rabbah tells it, God called Moses back and said, "Moses, I have made you king! It is not the way of a king to craft things himself, but rather to decree and others craft. You, too, do not have license to craft anything, but rather, say to them and they will craft it.” Sounds simple enough, right? Delegate, delegate, delegate. But there was a catch. God didn't initially tell Moses who would actually do the work!
Moses, naturally, asked, "To whom shall I say?" (Talk about needing more specific instructions!).
And here's where the story takes a truly breathtaking turn. God, according to this Midrash, showed Moses the "book of Adam," the first human. In this book, God revealed all the generations that would exist from the time of Genesis until the resurrection of the dead. Every generation, every king, every leader, every prophet – all laid out before Moses's eyes.
God said to Moses, "Each and every one I appointed from that time." From the very beginning of creation, each individual was destined for the role they would play in their generation. And among them, God revealed, was Betzalel. “See, I have called by name Betzalel" – meaning, this appointment was preordained, part of the grand cosmic plan.
It's a powerful image, isn't it? The idea that even before we're born, certain paths are laid out for us. Ginzberg, in his monumental work Legends of the Jews, expands on this theme, highlighting the deep connection between Betzalel's name and his divinely inspired skill.
So, what are we to make of this? Does it mean we're all just puppets on strings? Not necessarily. Jewish thought generally balances the idea of divine providence with human free will. Perhaps Betzalel was destined to be a master craftsman, but he still had to choose to cultivate his skills, to dedicate himself to the task. Perhaps we all have certain predispositions, certain talents, certain opportunities laid out for us, but it's up to us to seize them, to make the most of them.
This story from Shemot Rabbah isn't just about the building of the Tabernacle; it's about the building of our own lives. It invites us to reflect on the interplay between destiny and choice, and to consider how we can best fulfill our own unique potential, whatever that may be. What "book of Adam" would you like to see? What role are you destined to play?