On the first day of Pesach, in the additional Musaf prayer, we make the transition from referring to God as the one who “makes the wind blow and the rain descend,” which is said during the fall and winter months, and instead begin to acknowledge God as the one “who makes the dew descend,” which is said throughout the spring and summer months.
In Israel, rain only falls in the fall and winter, and subsides in the beginning of spring when the dry season begins. Since Israel has very few natural sources of water, it has always been precariously dependent on the rain from time immemorial to this very day. This situation is heightened by the fact that the rain only falls for approximately half the year. Dew, on the other hand, is constantly present all year long; however, during the rainy season, it is virtually not noticed in relationship to the arrival of the rains, which take on the primary focus owing to their great importance.
Another important association with dew is described in the Torah in relation to the manna that fed Israel for forty years in the desert. In one of the descriptions of the manna, the Torah states: “It came to pass in the evening that the quails went up and covered the camp, and in the morning, there was a layer of dew around the camp. The layer of dew went up, and behold, on the surface of the desert, a fine, bare [substance] as fine as frost on the ground. When the children of Israel saw [it], they said to one another, ‘It is manna’, because they did not know what it was; and Moses said to them, ‘It is the bread that God has given you to eat’” (Exodus 16:13-15). In Hebrew the word for manna is mahn and is cognate to mah, which means “what.”
In Kabbalah, dew, tal, is associated with the last two words of the Shema, the cardinal statement of faith in Judaism. This connection is based on the fact that the word tal numerically equals 39, the same as Hashem echad, “God is one.” It is interesting to note that the word echad, one, equals 13, exactly half of the name of Hashem, which equals 26. But, aside from the surface numerical elegance of this linguistic phrase, what could this possibly mean on a deeper level?
Rabbi Abraham Abulafia, an influential Kabbalist from the twelfth-century, developed a concept that he termed shalem vachetzi, “a whole and a half.” This idea, given mathematical form, demonstrates the relationship between words or concepts and their underlying correspondence in a 1:1/2 (whole–half) or 2:1 ratio. This ratio is reflected in the phrase, Hashem echad, which equals tal, as enumerated above. The constant consciousness of the unity and oneness of God as enshrined in the Shema has been at the center of Judaism from the time of Abraham until this very day. This constant awareness parallels the consistency of dew throughout all seasons of the year, in contrast to the rains, which only fall for half the year.
In order to more fully understand the nature of dew, it would be helpful for us to explore this concept of shalem v’chatzi in greater depth. For that we must investigate some other examples from the Torah where this ratio appears. For example, Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh explains that many of the Tabernacle’s dimensions allude to this concept. For instance, the acacia wood boards of the Tabernacle were each one and a half cubits wide. Additionally, each of the individual boards had two silver sockets; thus, the relationship of sockets to boards was that of 2:1, or a whole to a half. The golden altar, on which the incense was burned, was a cubit in length and a cubit in width and two cubits in height; thus, its height relative to its width and length was 2:1, or a whole to a half. The courtyard surrounding the Tabernacle was one hundred cubits long by fifty cubits wide, again a ratio of 1:1/2.
The golden table, which held twelve loaves of bread, also embodied a 2:1 ratio in terms of its length to width (two cubits in length and one cubit in width). Furthermore, its height was a cubit and a half. The twelve loaves were placed six on one side and six on the other; therefore, each side had a half of the whole number of loaves.
The holy ark, which housed the two tablets of the law on which were engraved the Ten Commandments, was a cubit and a half in width and a cubit and a half in height; its length was two and a half cubits. The ark itself was actually made of three boxes – a box of acacia wood placed between two boxes of pure gold; thus, the two golden boxes surrounding an inner wooden box created a ratio of 2:1, or a whole and a half. Two angel-like cherubim rested upon the ark’s cover, another instance of a 2:1 ration, or a whole to a half.
Furthermore, the Tabernacle’s construction and ongoing maintenance was underwritten by a series of three contributions. The first, after which the Torah parsha of Terumah is named, was the people’s voluntary contribution of the thirteen different materials needed to build the Tabernacle. The second was a onetime contribution of half a shekel to underwrite the cost of the silver for the wall sockets. The third was an annual contribution of half a shekel to purchase communal offerings for the ongoing service in the Tabernacle and later in the Temple.
The half shekel contributions each symbolize the fact that every human being is simultaneously both whole – a complete world unto him or her self – and at the same time, a half — in relation to their soul mate, for instance. Likewise, in relating to the collective people of Israel, a Jew is also both a whole and a half. How? Certainly, each individual Jew has autonomy and is absolutely unique, yet in relation to the collective people of Israel, we are each only a part, a “half,” of a much bigger whole. This same idea applies to an individual’s relationship with God as well, who is the ultimate “whole.” The half shekel contributions underwriting the Tabernacle’s construction therefore illustrate the fundamental importance of this concept of a whole and a half, as it is the very foundation upon which the construction and maintenance of the Tabernacle is based.
Upon further contemplation, we must recognize a great paradox underlying this entire concept of a whole and a half. People, in a sense, never feel more whole than when they feel close to God. Yet, precisely at such moments, human beings simultaneously become aware of their great distance from God’s Infinite Being. In other words, we feel most whole when we accept ourselves as being but a half, or a part of a greater whole. This is true between soul mates as well, each one feeling whole in themselves, while at the same time recognizing that they are merely one-half of a greater whole that transcends the sum of its parts. This is also true, as we have said, in the context of an individual Jew and the nation of Israel. On one hand, each person feels like merely one link in a great chain extending throughout the generations; but, on the other hand, each person also feels more whole by virtue of being part of such a noble and unique nation.
Now that we have established a deeper understanding of the relationship between the whole and a half ratio, we can return again to the idea of dew and its relationship to rain, manna and Pesach. As described above, the relationship between dew and rain and the times during the year in which they appear is that of a whole and half; with dew being present all year, while rain only falls for half of the year. And yet, paradoxically, for the most part, dew goes unnoticed and thus assumes the role of a half in relation to rain, which makes its presence palpably known and thus for most people is related to as the whole upon which our sustenance depends. Therefore, even though we think of rain as being the exclusive component in the earth’s ability to sustain humanity through vegetation, in reality dew plays just as important of a role in supporting the ecosystem through the dry season. Consequently, depending on the context, dew and rain both play the role of a whole and a half in relationship to each other. In terms of presence, the soft-spoken dew pales in comparison to the dramatic arrival of rain; however, in terms of process, the inconstant rains allow us to appreciate the day-to-day stability the dew provides.
The relationship between dew and rain as described above can be compared to the relationship between us and God. For those who actively believe in, recognize and make God consciousness a major part of their lives, it is clear that God is the ultimate whole and human beings but the “half” of reality. Yet, for those who do not believe in God, or who do believe but only as a relatively minor tangent in their worldview, the human being is front and center, representing the whole, while God, by default, becomes the “invisible” half, as it were.
The association of shalem v’chatzi between dew and manna in the desert is even more subtle. One of the purposes of the manna was to inculcate faith and trust in God’s ability to sustain the people throughout the forty years of wandering in the desert. The manna fell every day and only what people needed for that day could be collected, and if more was collected it would rot. Therefore, while everyone had to do their part in collecting the manna, representing the half, the blessing and the sustenance came directly from God, representing the ever-present whole. Additionally, because the Torah makes a point that the manna was enveloped within the dew, we can see that the dew, which comes directly from God, represents the whole, while the manna, which is what we would collect through our own initiative, represents the half in this equation. This relationship between dew and manna provides us with an excellent psychological example of “a whole and a half” as it relates to our work and pursuit of a livelihood.
In fact, the same relationship to providing a livelihood still exists, wherein each person has to make their own substantial efforts in order to provide for themselves and their families, yet, still, at the end of the day we are all ultimately dependent upon God’s blessing and assistance in order to be successful. In other words, all sustenance comes ultimately from God, we can only play our part, although that is a major piece of the puzzle, that should not be discounted.
The concept of a whole and the half is enshrined on Seder night as well. We begin the Seder with three whole matzot, but in the beginning stages of reciting the Haggadah we break the middle matzah in half. We then hide one half of this broken matzah until the end of the Seder, while the other half remains sandwiched between the two whole matzot on the Seder plate. When the time comes to eat the matzot we make two blessings. The first blessing is on the two whole matzot and the half matzah in between, while the second blessing is recited on just one whole matzah and the half matzah. The remaining whole matzah is saved for the “Hillel Sandwich” when we eat matzoh and marror together. On every Shabbat and holiday of the year we always use two whole breads to begin the festive meal. Pesach night is the only time of the year that we make a blessing on a whole and a half. This is obviously connected to the concept of shalem v’chatzi as is the breaking of the matzah in the beginning stage of the Haggadah. But, why?
Perhaps there is no time of the year where we feel so whole in our connection to the Jewish people, to our history and to God as Seder night. Moving from slavery to freedom is like going from being a half to a whole. Yet, when we connect so deeply to our history and the awareness of being connected to every generation all the way back to the experience of coming out of Egypt, we actually feel like a half, a part, a link in the chain of our relationship to a much greater whole.
As discussed in a previous section, the essence of Pesach is the formation of an ongoing intimate relationship with God. Pesach awakens within us a great love of God and the feeling that God loves us as well. Being aware of His constant love, caring and the miracles that surround us – big and small – can be compared to the awareness that the life-giving properties of dew are always there, even when we are not aware of them. Thus, the whole experience of Pesach is designed to encourage a deep and existentially fulfilling feeling of being both a half and a whole.
