Parashat Pekudei
Good Governance
Moses exemplifies a lesson in business ethics.
By Ismar Schorsch
Reprinted with permission of the Jewish Theological Seminary.
Midrash is the art of keeping an ancient sacred text alive.
The Rabbis were masters of drawing water from stone, of transforming the most
mundane passages of Torah into luminous nuggets of spirituality. Our parashah
offers a provocative example of their creative touch.
It opens unexcitingly with an inventory of the metals used
in the construction of the Tabernacle, more specifically with a financial
statement of their worth. Moses felt obliged to state for the record the amount
of gold, silver, and copper that went into the artifacts of the sanctuary. In
the first verse we are told: "These are the records of the Tabernacle, the
Tabernacle of the Pact, which were drawn up at Moses' bidding . . ."
(38:21).
The sums are vast. With the weight of a talent equal to
3,000 shekels, Moses deployed 29 talents and 730 shekels of gold, 100 talents
and 1,775 shekels of silver, and 70 talents and 2,400 shekels of copper in the
tabernacle. It should be noted that these quantities were voluntarily given by
the public in response to a fundraising campaign. Stirred by the prospect of an
ongoing presence of God in their midst, the Israelites had shared of their
wealth unstintingly, more than was actually needed (36:4-7).
A midrash accentuated what was implicit in the narrative. In
rendering an account to his donors, Moses had set an example for future
leaders. Despite his closeness to God, Who said of him that "he is trusted
(ne'eman) throughout My household" (Numbers 12:7), Moses chose to
give an accounting of the funds collected to his flock.
It is for this reason that the verse in Proverbs, "A
dependable (emunot--same root as above) man will receive many
blessings" (28:20) describes Moses to a tee. Irrespective of his power, he
subjected himself to the norms of good governance. His behavior proved to be a
blessing because it exemplified that confidence in a leader requires transparency.
A related midrash made the same point in rabbinic terms.
According to the Mishnah, "No office for communal financial matters is to
be instituted with less than two officers" (Shekalim 5:2). Yet it
is apparent throughout the Torah that Moses governed alone. Still to be above
reproach, Moses complied with rabbinic practice. He invited Aaron's son Ithamar
to perform the audit (38:21). In regard to public funds, there must not be an
iota of suspicion about misappropriation.
Thus when a priest in the Temple would withdraw money to pay
for the daily communal sacrifices from the room in which it was held, he always
entered in a garment without cuffs or pockets. Religious leaders administering
public funds ought to be unblemished in the eyes of their constituents as well
as in the eyes of God, which is why the Torah explicitly states, "You
shall be clear before the Lord and before Israel" (Numbers 32:22) (Shemot
Raba 51:1-2).
Accountability, then, restricts malfeasance, an ancient
insight that has lost none of its relevance. The pervasive distrust of
corporate America is surely a consequence of the reckless abandonment of honest
accountability by all too many business titans in the nineties. Driven by the
pressure of quarterly earnings and the temptation of staggering wealth, chief
executives of public companies reached for unprecedented levels of
compensation, rushed into conflicts of interest and wreaked havoc with
accounting procedures. Rarely have so few done such harm to the reputation of
their peers or the savings of the small investor.
Judaism is nothing if not a set of insistent reminders that
we humans are accountable for our actions. Free will is not a gift to be
abused. The Talmud posits that the first question to be put to us in the
world-to-come will bear on our most basic need--to earn a living: "Did you
conduct your business affairs in a trustworthy manner?" (BT Shabbat
31a).
Each year during the Days of Awe we confront ourselves in an
agonizing appraisal. Denial of our failings is difficult for everything in the
ledger is recorded in our own hand. The sins for which we seek forgiveness are
those we have committed against our neighbors near and far. If granted a
reprieve, we avow to do better in the year ahead. Indeed, every day of the year
we rededicate ourselves in our morning prayers to fear God wherever we might be
so that our speech be always marked by integrity and truthfulness. Faith works
to counter our greed.
The ethos of Scripture aims for the same balance. Power
needs to be checked. Hence the kings of ancient Israel were never absolute
monarchs. The Torah forbade them to amass wives, horses or wealth. Not only
were they required to copy for themselves God's teaching, but the text was to
be their constant companion for daily study (Deuteronomy 17:14-20).
The institution of the prophet existed to curb royal power.
When David had Uriah the Hittite killed so that he might cover up his
adulterous relationship with Bathsheba, it was the prophet Nathan who dared to
rebuke him to his face (II Samuel 11-12). Likewise, the prophet Elijah
confronted Ahab, the mighty king of northern Israel, after he had confiscated
the vineyard of Naboth, murdered by Jezebel in a kangaroo court. "Would
you murder and also take possession?" (I Kings 21:19), words that would
reverberate through the ages as a warning to tyrants of all stripes.
The corporate excesses of the 1990s also fly in the face of
the ideal envisioned by Ben Zoma, a second-century rabbinic sage who died
young. His portrait turns on paradox. The answer to each question is
counterintuitive.
Who are the wise? Those who learn from everyone.
Who are the strong? Those who conquer their own impulses.
Who are rich? Those who find contentment in their lot.
Who are esteemed? Those who esteem others.
(Pirkei Avot 4:1).
In sum, by living a life of self-restraint we may reach a
state of equilibrium and harmony in which the needs of the soul take precedence
over the appetites of the body.
Rabbi Ismar Schorsch is the chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary.
