Parashas Bamidbar 5772

“For every firstborn is Mine; at the time I smote every firstborn in the Land of Egypt I sanctified for Myself every firstborn of Israel” (Bamidbar 3:13). At first glance, the nature of this “sanctification” would seem to be that the firstborn would now perform the religious service. However, this had already been their role well before the tenth plague in Egypt. The reason given for Yaakov’s desire to purchase the birthright from Eisav (see Rashi on B’raishis 25:31), and why Eisav said he would die if he retained it (Rashi on 25:32), was because the firstborn were responsible for bringing offerings to G-d. If this responsibility didn’t start until after the exodus, why would Eisav be afraid of it? The Talmud (Z’vachim 112b) tells us that until the Mishkan was built, offerings were brought by the firstborn. This was actually true since Adam (Bamidbar Rabbah 4:8, see also with Rambam’s commentary on the Mishna in Z‘vachim). Obviously, then, this wasn’t the purpose of G-d taking the firstborn “to Him,” nor was it the result of this “sanctification.”

That doesn’t mean nothing changed as a result of this “sanctification.” Even though Yaakov bought the birthright from Eisav, after G-d “took” the firstborn for Himself, it could no longer be transferred to another sibling. Another difference is one of perspective. Bringing offerings had been one of the responsibilities of the firstborn in his role as “head of family;” once “sanctified to G-d,” though, they were working for Him, and could only take care of personal matters when their responsibilities to G-d allowed it. The fact that it had, until then, been a family function allowed the “birthright” to be passed down by a father to a son who was not a firstborn, such as when Noach passed it down to Shem rather than to Yefes (see Bamidbar Rabbah 4:8), or to someone outside the immediate family, such as when Shem gave it to Avraham (ibid). [It should be noted, as this Midrash does, that Avraham wasn’t the firstborn in his family either.] According to S’fornu (Bamidbar 3:13, see also Netziv on Sh’mos 13:13), non-holy work was only allowed after a “redemption,” a process that was unnecessary before G-d sanctified the firstborn. Nevertheless, even if these changes were considered significant, it doesn’t seem that they would be the reason why G-d "sanctified" the firstborn rather than just leaving them with their previous status.

It's possible that there doesn't have to be some grandiose purpose for G-d sanctifying the firstborn and taking them to be His; it could merely have been a function of their being spared when the Egyptian firstborn were killed. It could also have just been included in the greater “firstborn” picture; the same way we give the firstborn animals to G-d as a means of recognizing that He is the source of everything (see Sefer HaChinuch, Mitzvah #18), our firstborn sons “belong to Him,” originally by mandating that they perform the Temple service and then by having to “redeem” them (see Sefer HaChinuch, Mitzvah #392). It is also another vehicle that helps us remember the miraculous exodus from Egypt, as having the firstborn “belong to G-d” is a direct result of His having smitten the Egyptian firstborn right before we were freed. However, from a macro perspective, something else seems to have occurred as a result of G-d taking the firstborn “to Him” rather than leaving them the way they were.

Until G-d sanctified the firstborn and declared that they were His, their role was almost voluntary; it was their choice (with much input from their family), and was not automatic. After G-d sanctified the first born, on the other hand, it was no longer up to them or their families to decide who represented them before G-d. The firstborn were now mandated to be the ones to do the service, and had to follow the guidelines they were given. A volunteer has much leeway regarding what tasks he is willing to do, and how he is willing to do them. A worker, on the other hand, must do exactly what his boss tells him to do, especially if the “worker” has no choice but to take the job given to him. This change is significant in a religious system that insists on the letter of the law being followed, as the service is more likely to be done the way G-d wants it when the workers are “His” rather than having been grandfathered in from the old system. It is even more significant when we consider that the roles of the firstborn would shortly be taken away from them and given to the Priests and the Levites. Rather than the primary thrust of the “sanctification of the firstborn” being a means to give them additional religious responsibilities, making them “His” ended up being a means to take their “inherited” religious responsibilities away from them. After all, if they “belong to G-d” because He saved them, He can tell them precisely what role he wants them to have, even if that role is diminished from what it previously was.

During Korach’s rebellion, one of the main groups of rebels was comprised of the firstborn, upset that they had lost their status (see Chizkuni on Bamidbar 16:2). Although one of their arguments may have been that G-d couldn’t have taken the Temple service away from them since He had just designated them for it 13 months earlier, I would suggest that changing their status from “volunteer priests” to “G-d’s official workers” made it much more easy for (most of) them to accept, or at least deal with, G-d changing the responsibilities of His personal workforce. [That the nation, including the firstborn, accepted this change is evidenced by their “doing what G-d commanded them” (Bamidbar 1:44 and 2:34, see Bamidbar Rabbah 1:12), even though “doing it” meant moving away from the Mishkan and allowing the Levi’im to form a protective barrier around it (1:53); it also meant allowing the Levi’im to become the Mishkan’s caretakers (1:50-52). It is noteworthy this role was given to the Levi’im before the “transferring of sanctity” from the firstborn to the Levi’im took place.] Knowing that representing the people made the firstborn more susceptible to following the whims of the nation (which is what happened when they were asked to bring offerings to the golden calf--despite the “change in status” brought about through their sanctification having already occurred), G-d created an “out,” a way to remove the firstborn from the priestly service if and when it became necessary. By making them “His,” they would have to take on whatever role He insisted should be theirs, including having no more of a role than anyone else in the family.

This could help explain why/how, when they were first told of the sanctification of the firstborn, the nation was also instructed to “redeem [them]” (Sh’mos 13:13/15; see also 34:20), despite this being well before the sin of the golden calf (let alone before the transferring of sanctity from the firstborn to the Levi‘im). Rashbam and Chizkuni tell us that this “redemption” refers to the redemption mentioned in our Parasha (Bamidbar 3:44-51), and Rashi (in Sh’mos) tells us that the “redemption” refers to the five shekalim discussed “elsewhere,” i.e. Bamidbar 3:47 and 18:16. This would seem extremely strange; since this redemption transferred the status of the firstborn onto the Levi’im, why is it being referenced when this status is first being bestowed upon the firstborn? Although this "redemption" could be understood as the S’fornu explains it, i.e. allowing them to do mundane things too, these commentators obviously don’t understand it that way. It is possible this is how it was understood until the actual redemption took place, a little over a year later, at which point its real meaning became apparent. Nevertheless, unless G-d meant that He would (or at least could) remove their sanctified status if/when it became necessary, the five-shekel redemption process that transferred the sanctification from the firstborn onto the Levi’im couldn’t have been what G-d meant. If, on the other hand, the original sanctification process was meant to make it easier to remove that sanctification--along with the religious responsibilities that had been there for generations, we can understand why (and how) the redemption from that sanctification was included from the very beginning.

From this perspective, when G-d tells Moshe (Bamidbar 3:11-13) that the Levi'im are replacing the firstborn "for every firstborn became Mine on the day I smote every firstborn in the land of Egypt," He is not (just) announcing the change in roles, but explaining the mechanism through which that change is being made; since they became Mine on the day I smote the firstborn, I can decide which role is best for them.

 

Parashas Behar-Bechukosai 5772

    “And I will establish/fulfill My covenant with you” (Vayikra 26:9). The verb used to describe what G-d will do regarding His covenant with us can be understood as either “establish,” i.e. set it up for the first time, or as “fulfill,” i.e. satisfy the conditions/requirements of a previously established covenant. G-d “established” a covenant with Noach (both before--B’raishis 6:18--and after--ibid. 9:9--the flood, although some position the first one as a “fulfillment,” see Ibn Ezra and Ramban on 6:18); Moshe told us that G-d will “fulfill” the covenant He made with our forefathers with us, their descendants, when we behave properly (D’varim 7:18). Being that Parashas B’chukosai discusses the consequences of either fulfilling our part of the covenant or failing to do so, it would seem that the verb in this verse would be “fulfill;” the Torah is delineating how G-d will fulfill His part of the covenant. This is, in fact, how many commentators explain it (e.g. Chizkuni, S’fornu, Ralbag and Alshich). Rashi, on the other hand, explains these verses according to the Sifra, which understands the verb in our verse to be “establish;” the covenant referred to is a “new covenant, not like the first covenant that you nullified, but a new one that will not be nullified.” Since the verses are describing what will happen when we fulfill our covenantal requirements, why did Chazal understand the verse as G-d telling us He will establish a new covenant rather than that He will fulfill the one already in place?

    Maharal, Maskil L’Dovid and Devek Tov suggest that there is no need to mention a previous covenant, as we already know that G-d had established one with us at Sinai; therefore, this verse must be referring to a new covenant. However, the blessings and curses discussed are part of that original covenant made at Sinai (see Vayikra 26:46), a covenant that G-d will never nullify (26:44); unless there’s no reason to mention that these blessings are the fulfillment of G-d’s part of the covenant, why can’t it be what the verse is telling us? B’er Yitzchok says that fulfilling a previous commitment does not qualify as a “blessing,” so can’t be the message that these words are conveying. Nevertheless, the word “blessing” is not used by the Torah to describe these promises; even if we should consider them “blessings,” since they are the details of the covenant between us and G-d, mentioning that G-d will keep his end of the agreement (without the expression having to add any additional promises) is appropriate here. Netziv points out that there is no need to mention that G-d will keep his end of the agreement if everything in the agreement is being spelled out; saying He will fulfill or establish His covenant must therefore refer to a different covenant than the one under discussion. If everything included in the covenant was mentioned explicitly, this would be true. However, the benefits of being part of a divine covenant are limitless, with every unique situation that arises bringing about a similarly unique divine response (whether it’s protection from danger or fulfillment of a need); mentioning that G-d will fulfill His covenantal obligations covers all possibilities.

    Some commentators (see Abarbanel, HaKesav v’HaKabala and Oznayim L’Torah) explain the verse to mean that we will now be worthy of having the covenant established on our own behalf, rather than just being beneficiaries of the covenant as a result of G-d’s promises to our forefathers. Nevertheless, this wouldn’t change the covenant itself, but would be a continuation (and fulfillment) of the original covenant--not the establishment of a new one. Additionally, if the point is that we would be worthy of the covenant in our own merits, why reference a previous nullification and that this covenant will not be nullified?

    Malbim understands the word “establish/fulfill” to include being permanent, thereby necessitating it being a reference to the covenant described in Yirmiya (31:30-33, referenced by Rashi and Chazal). However, Yechezkel (16:60) describes a “permanent covenant” that will be established; if a covenant is described as being a “permanent” one despite using the same verb for “establish,” non-permanent covenants must be able to be “established” as well.

    Rabbeinu Bachye (26:13) is among the commentators who say that the blessings described in our Parasha were never completely fulfilled, and would only be fulfilled in the future. If Chazal knew that the blessings described in our Parasha refer to what will occur in Messianic times, then the covenant described must also refer to the covenant that will be in effect then, which is the one described by Yirmiyahu. Even if the context of the verses allowed the verb to be understood as either “fulfill” or “establish,” since these promises will only be fulfilled when a “new” covenant will be enacted, this is how Chazal explained it. Nevertheless, I would suggest that the context itself indicates that the verse is referring to a new covenant, not the one that was established at Sinai.

    Although it would be appropriate to include that G-d will fulfill His covenant even within the description of how that very same covenant will be fulfilled, it would be more appropriate to do so either at the very beginning of the description (“I will fulfill my covenant with you, and here are some of the implications of My doing so”) or at the very end. Why does G-d state that He will fulfill His covenant with us smack in the middle of the description of the blessings that are the result of that covenant? Additionally, a number of the blessings revolve around our physical sustenance. G-d will “give rain at its appropriate time, the land will give its produce, the trees of the field will give their fruit” (26:4). The bounty will be so plentiful that the time of threshing will reach the harvest of the vineyards, which in turn will reach the planting season (26:5). Other blessings are then described (26:6-9), followed by the mention that G-d will fulfill/establish His covenant with us. The Torah then returns to describing a blessing regarding our sustenance, that we will have such a surplus that we will have to move the old crops from the storage areas to make room for the new crops. Why are the blessings about our food supply split into two sections, interrupted by other blessings? If the covenant is a new covenant, the description of the blessings that result from the first covenant must be completed before the blessings that result from a new covenant can be described.

    As a result of our keeping the Torah, G-d will provide us with much blessing; this is part of the covenant enacted at Sinai. But how will we react when things go so well? Will we forget about G-d (see D’varim 8:11-14), or use the bounty as a means of serving G-d even more? If it’s the latter, G-d will establish a “new covenant,” one that will never be nullified (by either side). This covenant includes not only having a full bounty, but not having to spend as much time working the crops, as we will have much left from the previous year, thereby enabling us to spend more time studying Torah and doing mitzvos. This will only occur in Messianic times, when the new covenant will be in effect, but the context of where the covenant is mentioned also indicates that it must be this “new covenant” that the verse is describing.

 

Parashas Emor 5772

Parashas Emor begins with the prohibition against Kohanim coming in contact with a corpse (Vayikra 21:1). The Torah then lists the exceptions to this law, those relatives for whom mourning is required (see Mo’eid Katan 20b), and therefore for whom Kohanim can/must become tamay (ritually impure). There are six relatives listed (father, mother, son, daughter, brother and unmarried sister), but there is no explicit mention of his wife. Nevertheless, Chazal, our sages of blessed memory (Toras Kohanim, see Rashi on 21:2), tell us that the words “except for his relative who is close to him” is not an introductory clause stated before the exceptions are listed, but an expression that refers to his wife. Therefore, there are really seven relatives for whom mourning is mandatory, and for whom the Kohain can/must become tamay.

The wording of the Midrash that teaches us this seems a bit awkward; “his ‘sh’eir’ (the word used for relative in the would-be introductory clause) can only mean his wife.” As Mizrachi points out, there are numerous instances where this term refers to relatives other than his wife (e.g. Vayikra 18:12-13, 25:49, Bamidbar 27:11). Nevertheless, if there is an additional relative being added to the list of those close enough to mandate mourning, it would have to be his spouse. The verse following the list (21:4) supports this as well; “a husband (who is a Kohain) shall not become tamay within his people to profane him.” This is understood to mean that if his marriage was not permitted for a Kohain, he cannot become tamay for her (see Rashi). Obviously, if a Kohain cannot become tamay for his wife even from a permissible marriage, there is no need to clarify that under some circumstances he cannot become tamay for her; if the “sh’eir” expression does not refer to his wife, then he could not become tamay for her whether the marriage was allowed or not. This does not prove, however, that he is usually allowed to become tamay for his wife, as there other others ways to understand this verse (see Ramban). Either way, we are left wondering why the Torah used an ambiguous expression to include his wife rather than just saying so explicitly.

Rambam (Hilchos Aveilus 2:1, see also 2:7 and 3:1) does not include a wife in his initial list of exempted relatives, then adds that “from the words of the scribes,” i.e. a post-biblical explanation, he may/must become tamay for his wife as well. This is even more problematic, as even though it explains why the Torah doesn’t mention his wife explicitly (and why the rest of the list does not begin with “and,” as his mother is actually the first relative mentioned), how could Chazal allow/mandate a Kohain to become tamay if the Torah (by not including his wife on the list) forbids him from doing so? Most commentators (e.g. Kesef Mishnah) refer to Rambam’s introductory guidelines (Sefer HaMitzvos, 2nd Shoresh), where he uses the expression “from the words of the scribes” to (also) describe biblical commandments that weren’t expressed explicitly. Since a wife is not mentioned explicitly, Rambam refers to her exemption as “words of our scribes” even though this was what the Torah’s meant.

This approach is difficult, for several reasons (besides having to explain the use of an ambiguous term and the lack of a connecting “and” between the first relative--his wife-- and the next one on the list--his mother). First of all, why would Rambam mention that mourning for a wife is a separate category if the only difference is whether it’s explicitly in the verse? There is another category--relatives one should mourn for that are completely of rabbinic origin, and this is the category Rambam includes a spouse in! Additionally, when he discusses the Kohain’s wife (2:7), besides using the term “from the words of the scribes” again, he describes the legal loophole used to allow/mandate a Kohain becoming tamay for her. While this “loophole” is necessary for a situation where the marriage itself was only valid rabbinically (so his ability to become tamay for her did not exist until this marriage became a halachic reality), it would not be necessary (in a regular marriage) if the Torah itself allows a Kohain to become tamay for his wife. Why did Rambam resort to the “legal loophole” to explain a Kohain’s ability/requirement to become tamay for his wife if none was needed?

Radvaz (2:7) is among the commentators who say that Rambam meant that a Kohain can only become tamay for his wife m’d’rabanan (rabbinically), with the verse that Chazal say refers to his wife being an “asmachta” (a literary “hook” to hang rabbinic laws on). The issues this approach has to resolve include how the biblical prohibition against becoming tamay for a wife could be overturned, and why the Torah needed an introductory clause at all (if it didn’t add another relative to the list of exclusions).

 Rabbi Moshe Shamah (“Recalling the Covenant”) discusses this issue, and I would like to build upon his suggestion that the change (over time) in the status of women affected whether it was appropriate for a Kohain to become tamay for his wife. There is no question that women are treated with much more respect now then they were just a century ago; it is not unreasonable to assume that their status has continually evolved/improved since biblical times.

S’fornu (21:4) is among those who say the prohibition against a Kohain becoming tamay is a function of his special status; his role (or at least how he’s perceived) as a religious leader would be diminished if he were involved in taking care of the dead. Being involved in the burial of his close relatives, on the other hand, does not affect this, as taking care of their needs is an extension of his own honor. If at the time the Torah was given (and we know Rambam was very conscious of how things would be perceived when this groundbreaking system of life and law was introduced, see his Letter Regarding the Resurrection of the Dead, as well as his take on animal offerings in Moreh N’vuchim) the status of women was such that a Kohain becoming tamay for his wife would diminish his prestige in the eyes of the masses, we can understand why the Torah couldn’t explicitly permit it. When the status of women improved, and the husband-wife relationship improved with it (as evidenced by the disappearance of widespread polygamy and concubines), becoming tamay for his wife no longer impeded a Kohain’s status; if anything, his relationship with his wife was now closer and stronger than with any of his other relatives, and there was now more of a need to take care of her burial than their’s.

Although the Torah was introduced at a specific time in history, it was designed to remain relevant throughout history. It applies today as much as much as it ever did, despite the changes the world has undergone since it was given thousands of years ago. It takes Divine Wisdom for a document to be relevant (and acceptable to society) when it was introduced and remain so for every subsequent generation--no matter how much civilization changes. I would suggest that the Torah dealt with this challenge by including a clause that applies to a society that wouldn’t respect a Kohain who buries his wife and applies after it evolved to the point where it couldn’t respect a Kohain who didn’t take part in his wife’s burial.

Initially, a Kohain could only become tamay for the six relatives mentioned explicitly. Even though no introductory clause was necessary for that “message,” it was included because of the role it would eventually play. There could be no “and” before mentioning the Kohain’s mother, as, at this point in time, his mother was the first relative on the list. Chazal realized that the introductory clause was there, worded in a way that purposely referenced “the relative who is closest to him,” because when mankind evolved to the point that “his wife is considered part of him” (“ishto k’gufo,” see B’choros 35b), the Torah wanted the wife to be included in the list of exceptions. (As Toras Kohanim puts it, she was the only relative the Torah could have possibly meant to include by using the expression “relative who is closest to him.”) The “legal loophole” may have been the way they explained the change, but the impetus for the change was knowing that this is what the Torah had in mind all along.

 

Parashas Acharay Mos-Kedoshim 5772

“My laws you shall do and My statutes you shall keep, to go in them, I am Hashem your G-d” (Vayikra 18:4). Since we are already required to “do” and “keep” G-d’s laws and statutes, what is being added by the phrase “to go in them?” The commentators on Rashi tell us that this was what Rashi was trying to address by quoting Toras Kohanim’s explanation of these words: “do not free yourselves from them; do not say I learned the wisdom of Israel, I will go and learn the wisdom of the Egyptians and the Chaldeans.” In other words, the expression “to go in them” is telling us that keeping the rituals demanded by the Torah is not all that is expected of us; learning Torah, to the exclusion of other subjects, is required as well. This fits very well into the context of the previous verses, which forbid us from acting like the other nations; our “exclusionary” status applies not only to our deeds, but to the things we study and talk about as well.

The Talmud (M’nachos 99b) relates that the son of Dama, Rabbi Yishmael’s nephew, asked Rabbi Yishmael whether it was okay for someone like him, who had already learned all of the Torah, to now learn the wisdom of the Greeks. Rabbi Yishmael responded by quoting the verse from Sefer Y’hoshua (1:8), where G-d told Y’hoshua that he should learn Torah “day and night.” Rabbi Yishmael then added, “go and search for a time that is neither day or night, and that is when you can study the wisdom of the Greeks.” Obviously, the message was that there is no time when learning the wisdom of another culture is permitted.

Rabbi Yitzchok Sorotzkin, sh’lita (Rinas Yitzchok I) asks why Rabbi Yishmael referenced the verse from Y’hoshua if the same message is learned from a verse in Chumash; isn’t using a verse from the Torah preferable to using one from Nevi’im? This question becomes even stronger when we consider that the Talmud quotes three ways to understand the verse in Y'hoshua. Rabbi Yishmael takes it literally, that we must learn Torah every second of every day and of every night. Right before that, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai is quoted as saying it just means we must learn Torah every day and every night; we can fulfill this by saying Sh’ma every morning and every evening. Following the story with Rabbi Yishmael, the Talmud says there is an opposing position, as Rabbi Yonasan is quoted as saying that the verse in Y’hoshua is not teaching us a requirement, but is relaying a blessing--to be able to learn Torah every day and every night. Unless Rabbi Yishmael was so confident that his way of understanding the verse was the only correct way, why would he use a verse that can be understood in multiple ways rather than an uncontested verse that teaches the same thing?

[Some commentators ask how Rabbi Yishmael’s opinion in M’nachos can be reconciled with his opinion in B’rachos (35b), where he disagrees with Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai regarding taking time out from learning to work; if Rabbi Yishmael understands the obligation to learn Torah as a requirement to do so every second of every day and night, how could he allow working for a living? (A similar issue applies to Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, who doesn’t permit taking time from learning to work yet says in M’nachos that saying Sh’ma is enough to fulfill the requirement to “learn day and night.” However, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai could base his non-stop learning requirement on the “going in them” verse, and is only pointing out that this requirement cannot be learned from the verse in Y’hoshua.) I’m not sure, though, why these two statements by Rabbi Yishmael are contradictory. There is a requirement to learn every second of every day (and night) when there is no other obligation that must be taken care of. Rabbi Yishmael understands the verse that tells us to “gather your produce” to be teaching us that this is one of the circumstances that requires us (or allows us) to temporarily put down our sefer (book) and take care of something else. It has no bearing on whether or not there is a requirement to learn every second that such requirements don’t apply.]

A simplistic (yet possibly accurate) answer could be based on how obvious it is that the lesson can be learned from each of the verses. If the notion that it is not permitted to study Greek wisdom is more easily accepted/understood by referencing the verse which says that Torah must be studied day and night than having to explain how “going in them” teaches the same thing, we could understand why Rabbi Yishmael would use the verse from Sefer Yehoshua even if the same lesson is learned from our verse in Sefer Vayikra. [That more accurate sources are not quoted when less accurate sources can better relay an accurate message (for simplicity’s sake) is not uncommon. Even though someone more learned, or that individual when he becomes more learned, will realize the inaccuracy of the quoted source, it is assumed that with that higher level of learning/understanding comes the ability to verify that the message itself was accurate.]

Rabbi Sorotzkin also asks how it could be possible for anyone to have learned the entire Torah if its concepts run so deep that even if all of the available texts were covered, understanding them more fully could take up every second of every day for multiple lifetimes. It is interesting to note that the wording of the lesson in Toras Kohanim (and its parallel in the Sifray, Va’eschanan 6) does not mention learning other wisdoms after finishing all of the Torah. The notion that Rabbi Yishmael’s nephew learned all of the Torah was only mentioned by him, in his question to his uncle; Rabbi Yishmael may not have corrected him on this point, but that doesn’t mean he agreed with his nephew’s assessment. Nevertheless, whether the request to learn other wisdom is made while further Torah study is ongoing or after it has been thought to be completed may impact which verse applies more (see Birkas Sh’muel, Kiddushin 27). [Even though a similar statement to Rabbi Yishmael’s is made by Rabbi Y’hoshua in the Tosefta (Avodah Zarah 1:3) and the Y’rushalmi (Peya 1:1) without including learning the entire Torah first, it is not Greek “wisdom” that is referred to there; the context of the Y’rushalmi indicates that it is regarding the Greek language being taught. Since learning Greek is not considered learning Torah, and Torah must be what is learned every second of every day and every night, it is not allowed. We would still need to explain why the verse in Y’hoshua is referenced rather than the one in Vayikra.]

Elsewhere (Sanhedrin 5b), the Talmud tells us that Rav spent eighteen months living with shepherds in order to more fully understand the exact parameters of animal blemishes. Although it meant spending so much time outside the Bais Midrash (study hall), since it enhanced his Torah knowledge, it was considered part of his Torah learning, not separate from it. Similarly, Rambam studied many secular texts, including those of Greek philosophy and the religious texts of other cultures, but did so in order to better understand the context of the Torah, including the reasons behind many of the Torah’s laws and their details. Many have taken Rambam to task for going too far with his “other studies,” but even those who would never have done so quote Rambam’s conclusions (including the reasoning behind them) based on those studies. The bottom line is that learning things not found in our sacred texts is only problematic (putting aside studying heresy) if they are being studied for their own sake rather than in order to better understand an aspect of G-d’s Torah.

By prefacing his request to study Greek wisdom with the statement that he had already finished his Torah studies, Rabbi Yishmael’s nephew was clearly indicating that he did not want to learn Greek wisdom in order to understand the Torah better, but because he wanted to move on to a completely different subject. Had Rabbi Yishmael referenced the verse in Vayikra which teaches us to always be involved in Torah, the message would have only been that you can’t study Greek wisdom for its own sake, only if doing so will enhance your understanding of Torah. This would have opened the door to his nephew “clarifying” his request, claiming that he really wanted to learn Greek wisdom in order to understand the Torah better--even though it was clear to Rabbi Yishmael that this wasn’t the case. Because the verse in Y’hoshua made it clear that studying anything outside the realm of Torah was only allowed when its neither day or night (i.e. it’s never okay), this was the verse he (and Rabbi Y’hoshua, because the application was similar) used.

 

 

Parashas Tazriya-Metzora 5772

    “And on the eighth day you shall circumcise the flesh of his foreskin” (Vayikra 12:3). The Talmud (Shabbos 132a) learns from this verse that even if the eighth day is Shabbos, the circumcision is still done. There are other mitzvos, such as blowing the shofar on Rosh Hashana (Rosh Hashana 29b), taking a lulav on Succos (Succah 42b-43a), and reading the M’gila on Purim (M’gila 4b), that are not done on Shabbos, as a rabbinical decree was enacted outlawing these activities on Shabbos “lest he take it in his hand and bring it to an expert to learn [how to fulfill the mitzvah properly] and carries it four cubits in a public domain.” There is much discussion regarding why circumcision was not included in this decree; even though we can’t “make up” the shofar blowing or lulav taking missed because of the decree, we don’t even delay the circumcision despite similar concerns. Numerous explanations for this are given, the two most straight-forward (IMO) being the second suggestion made by Tosfos (M’gila 4b) and one of Meiri’s suggestions (M'gila 4b, see also Taz on O”C 588:5).

    Based on the wording of the concern in the Talmud (“lest he go to an expert”), Tosfos says that it is not carrying the lulav or the shofar to actually fulfill the mitzvah that is the concern, but bringing it to an expert to learn how to do it properly. Since circumcision is only performed by an expert, the concern isn’t the same, and the decree was never applied to a circumcision that occurs when the eighth day is Shabbos. [It should be noted that a similar decree was applied to someone who needed to become ritually clean in order to bring the Passover offering (P’sachim 69a), and there is no mention of an “expert” in that decree. Nevertheless, whereas in all of the previously discussed cases a mitzvah that is incumbent upon each individual is not fulfilled because of the decree, the Passover offering is not incumbent upon an individual who is ritually impure (just the opposite--he is not allowed to partake in it), so the decree prevents the mitzvah from becoming obligatory rather than prevents the fulfillment of an obligation (see Ritva on Succah 43a). That there is a fundamental difference between the decree regarding the Passover offering and the other cases is implied in the Talmud (Rosh Hashana, Succah and M’gila) where the reason for the decree in those three situations is equated, without mentioning a fourth situation.]

    Meiri points out that the Talmud bases the permissibility of doing a circumcision on Shabbos when it is the eighth day (and the obligation to do so) on the wording of the verse itself; if the Torah purposely implies that we should do the circumcision on the eighth day even if it falls out on Shabbos, it would be inappropriate to make (or apply) a decree that prevents this from happening. Even though there are explicit biblical commandments to blow the shofar on Rosh Hashana and take a lulav on Succos, there is no direct implication that it should be done on Shabbos too, allowing the sages to make the decree.

    It is clear from the context of the points Ritva makes (Succah 42b-43a) that he understood the decree to be based on a concern about carrying on Shabbos in general, not just when taking it to an expert. He also discusses (in Succah, M’gila and Rosh Hashana) why circumcision was not included in the decree, differentiating between fulfilling a mitzvah on a specific day (the eighth day after birth) and doing so on a specific day of the month. The days of the month are based on the new moon, so it wasn’t always known which day would be the one that the mitzvah must be fulfilled. Without a definite obligation on Shabbos to blow shofar, the concern about desecrating Shabbos was enough to make the decree. (Bear in mind that with Rosh Hashana being on the first of the month, even in Israel they weren’t sure if what would have been the 30th day of Elul was really Rosh Hashana. The Talmud discusses why the decree includes not taking the lulav on Shabbos even in Israel, see Tosfos on Succah 43a d“h Inhu.) Circumcision, on the other hand, where we know exactly which day is the eighth day, was not included in this decree, as the decree was only applied to situations where the mitzvah may not be obligated, not to situations where it definitely applies. 

    [Although we now have a set calendar, the decree to keep two days outside of Israel (where, before the calendar was set, notice of when the new month started did not reach most communities in time) was to treat these two days as they would had they not known which day was Yom Tov. Therefore, since it is treated as if they weren’t sure which day the mitzvah must be fulfilled, the decree against taking the lulav (or blowing the shofar or reading the M’gila) still applies.]

    In “Iyun Haparasha” (5771), a question is posed as to why, according to Ritva, circumcision is excluded from the decree, since it is unknown at the time of the circumcision whether this infant will live for a month--and an infant that does not live for a month is not considered a full person. If the decree applies to any situation where the mitzvah is not definitely obligated, and until the infant is considered a full person we won’t know whether there was an obligation to circumcise him on the eighth day, why did they allow the circumcision on Shabbos?

    Meiri’s approach should address this question, as the implication in the verse that a circumcision takes place on the eighth day even if it falls out on a Shabbos is enough of a reason to exclude it from the decree. The Torah knew that the eighth day comes before the infant is a month old, and yet still told us to circumcise an eight day old even if it’s Shabbos! However, the question could be reversed; if we see from circumcision that we should not prohibit fulfilling a mitzvah even if it is not definitely obligated despite having a concern that people might carry on Shabbos, how could such a decree be made to prohibit fulfilling the mitzvah of taking a lulav or blowing the shofar just because it may not really be obligated? One possibility is that the doubt about the infant’s viability does not approach the level of doubt we have about which day is really Yom Tov, so one cannot be applied to the other. There is another possibility (or perhaps a basis for saying that the two types of “doubts” aren’t comparable).

    Reading the M’gila on Purim is of rabbinic origin, so even if the reason for not doing so on Shabbos is the same as for shofar and lulav, the ramifications for applying the decree to M’gila aren’t the same. Just as they (the sages) said we should read the M’gila on Purim, they said not to read it on the 14th of Adar if it falls out on Shabbos (especially if they were concerned about a biblical prohibition being inadvertently violated). The question is really about the decree not to blow the shofar or take the lulav on the specific day that the Torah says we should.

    When the Talmud (Rosh Hashana 29b) discusses not blowing the shofar on Shabbos, it contrasts two verses. One verse (Vayikra 23:24) refers to “a remembrance of blowing [the shofar]” while the other (Bamidbar 29:1) calls it “a day of blowing [the shofar],” with the implication being that sometimes we actually blow the shofar and sometimes we don’t. When wouldn’t we? When Rosh Hashana falls out on Shabbos. Although the Talmud says this can’t mean that we are not allowed to blow shofar on Shabbos (or else they wouldn’t have been able to do so in the Temple either), the message is still implicit that a decree can be made to create the situation where the shofar isn’t actually blown on Rosh Hashana. Therefore, despite the implication from the verse regarding circumcision that we shouldn’t prohibit a circumcision if the eighth day falls out on Shabbos--even though we don’t know for sure that it is obligatory, the implication regarding shofar is that if we are not sure that there is a mitzvah (because it may not be Rosh Hashana), we can make such a decree. And since the situation regarding lulav is the same, with the same concerns and the same doubt about the obligation, the decree was applied there as well.

 

Parashas Shemini 5772

    “And the sons of Aharon, Nadav and Avihu, each took their fire-pan and they put fire (burning coals) on them, and they put incense upon it, and they brought an unauthorized fire to G-d, which they had not been commanded” (Vayikra 10:1). The Torah doesn’t say that they brought “unauthorized incense,” but that they brought an “unauthorized fire.” The implication is that the incense itself wasn’t problematic; only the fire used to burn it was. Being that incense offerings cannot be brought voluntarily or privately (Menachos 50a), and doing so without specific permission can be extremely dangerous (as evidenced by the deaths of the 250 leaders who sided with Korach, see Bamidbar 16:35), we would have expected Nadav and Avihu’s incense offering to at least be included in the description of what they did wrong. Yet, the Torah only rebukes them for bringing an unauthorized fire, without mentioning the incense offering being unauthorized.

    It could be suggested that the incense only became an offering when it was placed upon the fire, and was what made it an unauthorized fire and/or became part of the unauthorized fire, thereby alleviating any need to specify the incense itself being problematic (since it was included in the “fire”). However, Ramban tells us that by not mentioning the incense (only the fire) the Torah is informing us what their sin was. Obviously, Ramban does not consider the expression “unauthorized fire” to be including the incense that was placed upon it. Why doesn’t the Torah mention that the incense was (also) unauthorized?

    Ramban explains Nadav and Avihu’s sin from a Kabbalistic perspective; I’m not going to pretend to understand what he is hinting to. Nevertheless, the gist of his explanation (see Rikanti) is that Nadav and Avihu directed their offering to G-d’s attribute of justice without uniting it with all of G-d’s other attributes and directing it to G-d Himself. This attribute (of justice) is described as “fire;” Nadav and Avihu “bringing an unauthorized fire” refers to getting G-d angry because they directed their offering only to His attribute of justice, not to the physical fire used to burn the incense. Since the “unauthorized fire” is not a reference to the offering itself, but to Whom (or What) it was offered, there is no reason to mention the problem of bringing an incense offering that was not allowed to be brought.

    Netziv also redirects the term “unauthorized fire” away from the act that Nadav and Avihu did, explaining “via d’rash” that the “fire” refers to their “burning desire” to get closer to G-d, which led them to try to do so in an inappropriate manner (bringing incense in a way that was inappropriate). Again, once the term “unauthorized fire” does not refer to what was done, not mentioning the incense does not imply that the incense itself was not problematic.

    Now that we’ve presented possible approaches based on “sod” (“secrets,” referring to Kabbalah) and “d’rash” (exegetical deductions), I would like to explore some possibilities based on “p’shat” (the plain, simple meaning). However, since there are different ways to explain what Nadav and Avihu did (specifically where they offered the incense), even if we stick with “p’shat” (that the “unauthorized fire” refers to the physical fire they used to burn the incense), different “p’shatim” need to be presented based on each of the possibilities.

    Rashi (16:1, see also Ibn Ezra) is among the commentators who say that Nadav and Avihu brought the incense into the inner sanctum (the “Kodesh haKadashim”). From a technical standpoint, if they entered the “Holy of Holies” with burning incense on their fire-pans, the first item that entered (assuming they didn’t walk in backwards) would have been the burning coals at the edge of their fire-pans. If sticking the fire-pans into the inner sanctum was enough of a violation of this holy space that they deserved punishment even if they didn’t enter it themselves, and even if the part of the fire-pan where the incense was burning didn’t enter it (and it’s possible that the “G-dly fire” struck them before they had a chance to enter any further), it would be completely accurate to describe the cause of their punishment to have been “bringing an unauthorized fire close to G-d” without mentioning the incense (or themselves).

    From another perspective, the prohibition against entering the inner sanctum “at any time” (16:2) was not communicated until after Nadav and Avihu had died, so they couldn’t have been punished for doing something that had not yet been forbidden. Bearing in mind that offering incense was necessary before entering the inner sanctum (16:12-13), and that on the “eighth day,” when Nadav and Avihu brought the “unauthorized fire,” they had the status of Kohanim Gedolim (which is why Elazar and Isamar couldn’t mourn their brothers’ deaths, see Chizkuni on 10:7), and that the offerings brought on that day were similar to those brought on Yom Kippur, giving it the status of a pseudo-Yom Kippur, it is possible that Nadav and Avihu bringing incense into the inner sanctum was not what they were punished for. If the problem was only the source of the fire used to burn the incense, not the act of bringing incense itself, the Torah’s wording is very exact. They were punished for bring an unauthorized fire; the incense itself was not yet unauthorized.

    Almost always, incense is only offered on the Golden Altar (also referred to as “the Incense Altar”), which is located in the Mishkan (in the same section as the Menorah and the Shulchan), and according to many commentators this is where Nadav and Avihu offered incense. Some (Rashbam and Chizkuni) say that they tried to offer incense before the G-dly fire consumed the offerings on the Outer Altar (the “Copper Altar”). [As a matter of fact, they say it was this same fire, which originated from the inner sanctum (after it descended from heaven, see Meseches Midos) and traveled through the Mishkan towards the Outer Altar (where it consumed the offerings) that consumed Nadav and Avihu on its way out.] If the “regular” morning incense hadn’t been brought yet, placing incense on the Incense Altar would not be a problem; it would only be putting that incense on “a fire that was not commanded” (whether it was “not commanded” because of the source of the fire or “not commanded” because they shouldn’t be the ones burning the incense) that was “unauthorized.” Since the incense wasn’t the part that wasn’t authorized, the Torah only mentioned the “unauthorized fire.”

    Even if Nadav and Avihu didn’t sin until after the offerings on the Outer Altar had been consumed by the G-dly fire, and the morning incense had either already been offered or wasn’t supposed to be offered that first morning (with the afternoon incense being the inaugural incense offering), there may have been nothing wrong with putting incense on the Golden Altar in preparation for the afternoon incense offering. If it was only burning it prematurely that was problematic, it was the “fire” part that was “unauthorized,” not the incense part.

    Tosfos (Eiruvin 63a) says that Nadav and Avihu put their incense on the Outer Altar. Even though the incense offering is never brought on the Outer Altar, and individuals can never bring personal incense offerings, there was a temporary exception made during the first 12 days of the Mishkan’s operation, when the Tribal Chiefs inaugurated the Mishkan (one head of Tribe per day) with their personal offerings, including personal incense offerings. [See Meshech Chuchmuh, who suggests that although mistaken, Nadav and Avihu had reason to think that on that “eighth day” the Outer Altar had the same status as the Inner (Incense) Altar.] It is possible that Nadav and Avihu had a reaction similar to their father, who was jealous that his Tribe did not partake in the Chanukas haMishkan (see Rashi on Bamidbar 8:2). Whether Nadav and Avihu saw Nachshon ben Aminadav bring his offerings (Bamidbar 7:12), including incense (7:14) before they brought theirs, or saw the 12 Tribal Chiefs try to bring theirs on that first day before G-d told Moshe that they should bring them one day at a time (7:10-11), the notion of bringing a personal incense offering on the Outer Altar on the “eighth day” was not out of line, and they had reason to believe that the same dispensation that was granted to Nachshon (and the other Tribal Chiefs) would apply to them as well. It wasn’t the incense, per se, that was the problem, it was the way they brought it, using an “unauthorized fire.”

 

Parashas Shemini 5763

    “And they (Nadav and Avihu) brought a foreign fire, which they were not commanded to, before G-d” (Vayikra 10:1). The Torah is very clear about what Nadav and Avihu did wrong that warranted the death penalty-- using fire from an improper source for their incense offering. And if spelling it out here isn’t enough, we are told twice more that this was the sin that brought about their death (Bamidbar 3:4 and 26:61), with no other sin ever mentioned. Yet, numerous other (possible) sins are attributed to them in an attempt to explain their punishment. The obvious question (asked by Rav Sadya Gaon among others) is why our sages would seek other causes for their demise, when the Torah tells us, explicitly, several times, precisely what the problem was.

    One of those other sins (mentioned by Rashi, Vayikra 10:2) was drinking wine before doing the service in the Mishkan. This opinion is bolstered by the fact that the commandment that a Kohain (priest) not drink wine (before serving any priestly role) follows immediately after this incident. However, how could Nadav and Avihu have been held responsible for a commandment that was not yet given? And according to all the other opinions regarding which sin they did, if they didn’t drink prior to doing the service, why was this commandment given right after their death?

    The Ritva (Yuma 53a) understands their sin to be just as the Torah describes-- using the wrong fire for their offering.  Not that it would usually be the wrong fire, as they took the fire from the outer altar (where the fire for the incense is supposed to come from). But, in this case, it was the wrong fire. Since the miraculous fire had just been sent directly by G-d to consume the offerings that they and Aharon had brought (9:24), this fire should have been used, not the “regular” man-made fire. For this reason, it is referred to as a “foreign fire,” as it was, for this occasion, the wrong one.

    The Ralbag explains their mistake in a similar, but profoundly different, manner. There were three fires on the outer alter (see Yuma 45a). One was the fire upon which the offerings were burnt, one was the fire kept lit constantly from which that fire was ignited, and one was the fire from which the incense was burned on the inner altar. Nadav and Avihu, according to the Ralbag, lit their incense from the fire that burned the offerings instead of from the fire designated for the incense. It was the wrong fire, even though it came from the altar.

As the fire that was burning the offerings was the fire that had come from G-d, perhaps the reason Nadav and Avihu decided to use it as the source for their incense was precisely because of its unique nature. They chose to use this miraculous fire rather than the regular man-made fire, and because they were mistaken, suffered the consequences of using the wrong fire.

    It turns out, then, that according to the Ritva they should have used G-d’s fire, but took the regular fire instead, while according to the Ralbag they should have used the regular “incense” fire, but used G-d’s fire instead. In other words, it was a judgment call as to which was preferable, and they made the wrong judgment.

    This may explain why some of our sages attributed their mistake to drinking wine. Although it is true that they could not be punished for transgressing a yet-ungiven commandment, nevertheless, they could not escape the effects of wine--impairing their judgment. As the Ramban writes, regarding those that say that Nadav and Avihu had been drinking (10:9), “they mean that because of their [drinking] wine they erred regarding the foreign fire--not that the punishment was because of [drinking] the wine, as they had not yet been warned about it-- but their punishment was for erring with G-d’s fire.” It is precisely because wine affects a person’s ability to think clearly that it is forbidden before doing any service in the Mishkan (or Temple), before rendering any decision on Jewish law, and before teaching Torah to others.

As is often the case, our sages are teaching us what we can learn from the story, namely that had Nadav and Avihu not been drinking, they may not have made the wrong judgment call. Some sages chose to bring out this lesson, while others taught us other ways that Nadav and Avihu could have avoided their mistake. Had they consulted with Moshe and Aharon before bringing their incense, they would have been told which fire to use. Had they not been as eager as they were to assume a leadership role (see Sanhedrin 52a), they would not have felt the need to bring the incense on that very first day, and wouldn’t have been faced with the dilemma of which fire to use. Similarly, had they gotten married and started a family, they might have considered the consequences of making the wrong decision more carefully (comparable to the preference of one who leads High Holiday services having a family). None of these things were what Nadav and Avihu were punished for, but they may have impacted the decision for which they were punished.

    By placing the prohibition against drinking immediately after Nadav and Avihu’s deadly mistake, the Torah is teaching us that we are ultimately responsible for the decisions we make, and for creating an environment best suited to making those decisions.

 

Pesach 5772b

“To the One Who tears the Yam Suf into sections” (T’hilim 136:13). Rashi tells us that this refers to G-d having created 12 distinct paths (see Mechilta, B’shalach 4), one for each Tribe. Even though G-d usually minimizes His miracles, making them seem as “natural” as possible--which is why He caused a “strong wind to blow all night” (see Sh’mos 14:21)--rather than the Children of Israel crossing the sea through one path (a path that could have been 12 times wider to allow for the same crossing time), each Tribe had their own path. Although every water in the world splitting (see the end of that section of the Mechilta) indicates that G-d was not trying to minimize this miracle, there still must be a reason why He created multiple paths through the sea rather than maintaining national unity by having everyone cross together along the same path. S’fas Emes suggest that each Tribe having their own path showed that each one, on their own, was worthy of having the sea split for them. (Which “path” the Eirev Rav took, as well as whether the Tribe of Levi had their own path or took one--or more--of the others, is a matter for a different time, perhaps next year; suggestions can be emailed to RabbiDMK at yahoo.com.) The context of what seems to be competing narratives in the Talmud (Soteh 36b-37a) may lead us to another possibility.

“Rabbi Mayer used to say, ‘when Israel was standing by the sea, the Tribes were competing with each other, each one saying they will enter the sea first. The Tribe of Binyamin [didn’t wait], and entered the sea first, as it says (T’hilim 68:28), ‘there Binyamin, the youngest one, ruled over them.” The Talmud then discusses the reward the Tribe of Binyamin received for having gone first, before Rabbi Yehuda tells him that this wasn’t the way it happened. Rather, “each Tribe said that they will not enter the sea first, until Nachshon ben Aminadav [didn’t wait until a Tribe stepped up] and entered the sea first.” Textual support is then brought for this, including the prayers said while the waters of the sea swirled around whomever had entered the sea before it split. The Talmud continues by relating the conversation between G-d and Moshe: “At that time, Moshe was engaged in lengthy prayer. The Holy One, blessed is He, said to him, ‘my beloved ones are drowning in the sea and you are praying a lengthy prayer before Me?’ [Moshe] said before Him, ‘Master of the universe, what [else] can I do?’ He said to him, ‘speak to the Children of Israel that they should travel, and you (Moshe) should lift up your stick and spread your hand [over the sea and split it]” (Sh’mos 14:15-16). The Talmud then discusses the reward the Tribe of Yehuda received for Nachshon ben Aminadav entering the sea first.

[It should be noted that Moshe was not taken to task for praying, but for being engaged in a lengthy prayer. He already knew that G-d would save His nation, and that Egypt would not be around anymore afterwards, information that Moshe had related to the nation (14:13). Therefore, although prayer was important (and necessary), only a short prayer was appropriate, not a long, involved one, so that G-d’s plan can be put into action right away. Should a surgeon spend 15 minutes beseeching G-d to help him operate successfully after he’s been scrubbed and is ready to start the procedure? Or should he (or she) just ask G-d, briefly, to please help him be successful? When Miriam, was afflicted with tzora’as, did Moshe spend a long time praying on her behalf, or did he offer a really short prayer (Bamidbar 12:13)? With the Children of Israel panicking, Moshe shouldn’t have offered such a lengthy prayer now either.]

Several questions can be asked about the competing narratives related in the Talmud. First of all, with the sea in front of them, why would there be a “competition” about which Tribe should enter first? The sea hadn’t split yet--if it had, what would be so praiseworthy about going first? Besides, since Rabbi Yehuda disagreed with Rabbi Mayer, insisting that no one wanted to go in until Nachshon took the initiative, obviously Rabbi Mayer meant that everyone wanted to go first despite the fact that there was no dry land in the middle of the sea yet. Whomever was willing to go in, trusting Moshe’s telling them that they could cross the sea safely, could just go! Additionally, why, in Rabbi Yehudah’s version, did G-d say that His “beloved ones” (plural) were drowning in the sea if only one person (Nachshon) had the courage to jump in before it split?

The words Rabbi Yehuda used to begin his version are not the way opposing positions are usually stated. Rather than Rabbi Mayer saying “every Tribe wanted to go first” followed by Rabbi Yehuda saying “no Tribe wanted to go in first,” Rabbi Yehuda says “that wasn’t the way it happened.” The implication is that he is not disagreeing with Rabbi Mayer about the facts, just about the context. By combining the two narratives, a fuller picture emerges.

The nation was told that they would be able to cross the sea safely, but were still afraid to go in. At the same time, the leaders of the Tribes, confident that they could cross, were discussing who should go first. Was it appropriate to all go in together, at the same time (see Radak on T’hilim 136:13), or should there be a procedure for entering in an orderly fashion? Each Tribe, represented by their leaders (see T‘hilim 68:28, where it was the leaders of Yehuda, Z‘vulun and Naftali that protested Binyamin going first), made the case as to why their Tribe deserved to go first. This leaves the impression that the nation was eager to enter the water, which wasn’t the case, so Rabbi Yehuda interjects that Rabbi Mayer is not presenting the full picture. Rather, while the leaders discussed which Tribe should go first, the people were afraid to go in, saying they wouldn’t go first. Then Nachshon went in, giving others the courage to do the same. Now that others were willing to enter, the “competition” between the leaders regarding which Tribe should go first was relevant. However, before it was resolved, and before even Nachshon’s Tribe (Yehuda) went in, Binyamin did. The sea had not yet split, as Moshe was still praying. G-d told him to stop praying and start splitting the sea, as “His beloved ones,” plural (as Nachshon, the Tribe of Binyamin, and perhaps the rest of Nachshon’s Tribe, had already entered the sea) were drowning. Moshe lifted his staff, stretched out his arm, and the sea split.

Where did the sea split? Wherever those who were “drowning” were in the water. And since each Tribe was at a different point along the shore, it split where Binyamin had entered and split where Nachshon (and perhaps the rest of his Tribe) had entered. Seeing the sea split for those already in the water gave everyone else enough courage to enter the water too, and G-d split the sea where they were as well. In the end, since each Tribe entered the water at a different point along the shore, G-d created a separate path for each of them. For His kindness is forever.

 

 

Pesach 5772

    “Raban Gamliel would say, ‘whomever does not say these three things has not fulfilled his requirement: pesach, matzoh and marror.” There is much discussion regarding which religious obligation is not met if these three items/concepts aren’t discussed at the Seder table. A closer look at the context in which Raban Gamliel made his statement, as well as where it is quoted in the Mishnah (Pesachim 116a) and in the Hagada, may help us understand how it was meant--as well as how it was understood and applied.

    The previous Mishnah told us that “we start with disgrace and end with praise.” The Talmud (ibid) discusses whether the “disgrace” refers to our ancestors having worshipped idols, or if it refers to our having been slaves in Egypt. [Interestingly, even though most of the Children of Israel worshipped Egypt’s deities--which is one of the reasons we were commanded to slaughter a sheep for the Pesach offering (to counter the remnant of our idolatrous thoughts)--it was our “ancestors” who worshipped idols (with Avraham’s father being referenced), and “we” who were slaves in Egypt. Since we are supposed to envision ourselves as if we, ourselves, were redeemed from Egypt, when discussing the slavery--and being freed from it--it is “we.” When it comes to worshipping idols, on the other hand, it would be inappropriate to consider it as if we had done such a thing, so it is our “ancestors” who are referenced, not us.] The Hagada includes both aspects, first saying that “we were slaves in Egypt, and G-d took us out from there” and then that “our ancestors worshipped idols, and G-d brought us closer to His service.” However, the bulk of the Hagada discusses the former (the transition from slavery to freedom), without spending any time elaborating on the latter (being able to serve G-d properly). Even the minimal “discussion” about our transition from worshipping idols to serving G-d is limited to quoting verses (Y’hoshua 24:2-4), verses that end with our descending to Egypt, without including our transition to being G-d fearing after we left Egypt. Why does the Hagada mention both aspects of “beginning with disgrace and ending with praise” if only one of them is really addressed?

    After the first aspect (being slaves to Paro and then being redeemed) is mentioned, the Hagada tells us about the Seder that occurred in B’nay B’rak, where the sages discussed the exodus story all night long. The Tosefta (P’sachim 10:8) describes another Seder, one that occurred in Lod during the same time period (perhaps even the same year) which also lasted all night. The topic of discussion, however, was slightly different. Rather than talking about the story of the exodus, the sages in Lod were up all night discussing the laws of Pesach. Since the “service of G-d” that He “brought us closer to” refers to keeping the Torah and its commandments, the proper way to “discuss” this aspect was to learn the laws relevant to Passover and the exodus from Egypt. Both aspects are important, but the details of the laws, and an extensive, all-night discussion about them, is really only appropriate for those with a strong background in Jewish law. It is for this reason that the answer to the wise son’s question is about the law; we teach him about the laws of the Seder, up to and including not being able to eat after the Afikomun (see Vilna Gaon). Even though the less scholarly also need to know the laws pertaining to the Seder, if they are not yet ready for such an extensive, complex “Beis Midrash” style symposium, more can be gained through a discussion of the miracles G-d performed in Egypt, and perhaps the theological implications of the exodus experience, than expounding on the laws of Pesach. The Hagada provides a structure for discussing the narrative, and is therefore its focus. The more learned, who benefit more by spending time delving into the intricacies of Jewish law than the less-learned do, are already aware of this other aspect of the Seder, and do not need to be pointed towards it by the Hagada. After all, there are too many areas of Jewish law that stem from the exodus experience to limit it to an official guide, whereas there is but one exodus narrative that can be used as the starting point.

    Rabbi Akiva, at the Seder he led in B’nay B’rak, focused on the exodus story, perhaps because he felt it was especially relevant after the recent destruction of the Temple. Nevertheless, the discussion was not limited to talking about G-d’s redemption; Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya, one of the participants in the Seder, is quoted regarding the requirement to mention the exodus the rest of the year too. [Several versions of the Hagada (see also the Yerushalmi’s version of the Mishna, Berachos 1:6) have Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya speaking “to them” (emphasis added), i.e. to Rabbi Akiva, Rabbi Eliezer, Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Tarfon--with whom he was having the Seder--about whether the exodus must be mentioned every single night (and day) of the year.] They may have used the exodus narrative as the starting point, and/or as the framework within which they discussed related laws, but their Seder discussion was not limited to the exodus story.

    What about Raban Gamliel’s Seder in Lod? Did they only discuss the laws that pertained to the Seder, or to Pesach in general? Does focusing on the transition from worshipping idols to serving G-d, by staying up all night to talk about the laws of the Torah we serve G-d through, mean that the exodus story was ignored? Even though their Seder took place before the Hagada took the form we have today, it would seem difficult to imagine that they didn’t talk about the miracles of the exodus, and how G-d saved us from such a horrific slavery. Can someone fulfill their Biblical obligation to “tell it over to your son” by just discussing the laws of Pesach (even if he is a really, really wise son)?

    “Raban Gamliel would say, ‘whomever did not say these three things on Pesach (by the Seder) did not fulfill his obligation.” By mentioning the Pesach offering--including its laws, we refer to G-d passing over our houses to smite the firstborn. By mentioning matzoh, we refer to our having been redeemed. [Notice how the matzoh is said to explicitly refer to what happened after we were redeemed, not to the Seder we had right before we were redeemed (which included matzoh) or to the “bread of affliction” we were forced to eat while we were slaves.] And by mentioning the bitter herbs we refer to how bitter the Egyptians made our lives. Raban Gamliel was telling us that even those who focus on the laws of Pesach have to discuss things that will include the basic exodus narrative; the bitter experience of slavery, the miraculous way G-d saved us, and that we were redeemed. Since Raban Gamliel’s Seder focused on the laws of Pesach, he had to make sure we knew that the story of the exodus had to be included too.

    After the Hagada focuses on the story of the exodus, before we start thanking G-d for saving us and praising Him for doing so, Raban Gamliel’s statement is quoted not just to put a bow on the narrative, but to teach those that have spent most of the night discussing the intricacies of Jewish law that they are also required to discuss the story as well.

 

Parashas Tzav 5772

    Sefer Vayikra begins with G-d calling to Moshe from the Mishkan (Vayikra 1:1), but goes back in time (8:1-36) to the seven days of “fulfillment” (Milu’im), when Aharon and his sons were trained to do the service that would be performed once the Mishkan became operational, on the “eighth day” (9:1-24). This “eighth day” was the day that G-d called to Moshe at the beginning of Sefer Vayikra (1:1), the first day of Nisan in 2449 (Sh’mos 40:2), almost a year after the exodus from Egypt. Vayikra therefore begins where Sefer Sh’mos ended, with G-d’s divine presence descending on the Mishkan on that “eighth day” (40:34) but Moshe being unable to enter (40:35) until G-d called him in (Vayikra 1:1).

    Once inside, G-d commanded Moshe regarding the sacrifices, the details and laws of which are taught from the beginning of Sefer Vayikra until the narrative regarding the “Milu’im” begins. We would have assumed that this is where the Torah goes back in time, describing events that took place a week before the commandments given at the beginning of the sefer, if not for one verse (7:38), which states explicitly that these laws were commanded to Moshe on Mt. Sinai. Where, then, did this shift back in time occur? Why is there no indication of this chronological change until after it happens?

    Ramban provides three possible explanations for this verse. His third approach is that “Mt. Sinai” doesn’t mean atop the mountain, but rather “in front of Mt. Sinai,” i.e. in the Mishkan, which was built next to Mt. Sinai, and where it was located when these commandments were taught to Moshe. (The nation didn’t move from Mt. Sinai until more than a month and a half after the Mishkan was operating, see Bamidbar 10:11-12.) The verse therefore mentions both Mt. Sinai and the Sinai desert, indicating that it wasn’t from atop the mountain itself (but “in the desert of Sinai”), yet was before they traveled away from Mt. Sinai. According to this approach, the “time shift” still occurs when the “Milu’im” narrative begins (8:1). While this might explain the wording of the verse, it doesn’t explain why we might have thought that any of the preceding laws were taught after they had traveled from Sinai. After all, these laws applied right away, and had to be known at least by the “eighth day” (when the Kohanim started bringing offerings in the Mishkan), if not earlier (during their training). Without any reason to think that any of these laws were taught after the nation left Mt. Sinai, we would have assumed that they were taught before they moved. Even if the explicit mention at the beginning of Sefer Vayikra wasn’t enough, just mentioning the Mishkan here should have been enough without having to mention both Mt. Sinai and the Sinai Desert. If anything, mentioning Sinai indicates that the preceding laws (or at least some of them) were commanded before the Mishkan was built.

    Ramban’s second approach splits the verse in half, with some of the offerings (the “olah,” which is completely burnt, the “chatus,” the sin offering, and the “Milu’im,”) being taught on Mt. Sinai (literally), and the rest taught in the Mishkan, in the Sinai Desert. However, the verses do not indicate that some were taught in one place and others taught elsewhere, and the details of the “sh’lamim” (whose meat is shared by all), as well as the other offerings, are mentioned in the commandments to the nation and included in the commandments to the Kohanim. The verse itself doesn’t seem to be talking about two categories, or two locations, merely stating that “these are the laws that G-d commanded Moshe on Mt. Sinai, on the day that He commanded the Children of Israel to bring their offerings to G-d, in the Sinai Desert.” Despite the laws that were taught to the Children of Israel being taught in the Mishkan (Vayikra 1:1-2), here we are told that the laws that were taught to the Children of Israel were commanded on Mt. Sinai.

    A more natural “division” (suggested by some) would be that those laws taught to the nation (1:1-5:26) were commanded in the Mishkan, while the laws directed to Aharon and his sons (6:1-7:34) were commanded on Mt. Sinai. According to this, the “time shift” occurs at this point, with the “Milu’im” that occurred before the “eighth day” following the laws that were taught even earlier. Aside from this “division” not being demarcated in the text, an issue that arises from this suggestion is that offerings described in the first part (which weren’t taught until later) are referenced in the second part. This is not problematic for the “olah” (6:2), even though an earlier mention of “olah” is referenced (“this is the olah that is on the flame on the altar all night,” indicating that it was previously discussed), as the twice-daily “olah” was already taught at Sinai (Sh’mos 29:38:42). [The point of this commandment would seem to be that a voluntary “olah” is offered the same way as the mandatory “olah,” which was already taught.] The reference to the “sh’lamim” (Vayikra 6:5), on the other hand, would seem to be a problem if Parashas Tzav was not taught after Parashas Vayikra, as an offering that had not yet been taught was being referenced. Additionally, we are told that the laws directed to "the Children of Israel" were taught at Sinai, not (just) those directed to the Kohanim.

    In his first approach, Ramban references the opinion of our sages, that all of the laws and their details were taught on Mt. Sinai and then repeated in the Mishkan. According to this approach, since the laws and details taught in both Parashas Vayikra and Parashas Tzav were all taught on Mt Sinai and then repeated in the Mishkan, the verses in Sefer Vayikra are telling us what was commanded in the Mishkan, with the summation (7:37-38) telling us that these commandments were the same as those that had already been taught to Moshe on Mt. Sinai (see Netziv). This would certainly explain how the “sh’lamim” can be referenced, as not only had it already been taught on Mt. Sinai, but it had been taught again now in the Mishkan. The question becomes why the Torah needed to tell us this here, since all commandments were taught at Sinai and repeated in the Mishkan, a concept learned from Sh’mita (see Rashi on Vayikra 25:1; see also http://www.aishdas.org/ta/5765/behar.pdf, pg. 2, and http://www.aishdas.org/ta/5768/behar.pdf, pg. 7). We also need to understand the verbose wording of the verse; why does Torah add “on the day that He commanded the Children of Israel to bring their offerings to G-d, in the Sinai Desert” rather than just leaving it as “these are the laws that G-d commanded Moshe on Mt. Sinai”?

    Previously (http://rabbidmk.posterous.com/parashas-vayakhel-pekuday-5772 ), I discussed the possibility that the Mishkan was made differently than had originally been commanded because the nation was no longer the same as it had been before the sin of the golden calf. That there were changes because of the golden calf is explicit; the Tribe of Levi replaced the first born in the Temple service (see Rashi on Bamidbar 3:12); Moshe carved out the second set of Luchos (Sh’mos 34:1), whereas G-d Himself carved the first (32:16); the words on the second set reflected the nation’s status after the sin, whereas the words on the first set were appropriate for the level they had been on before the sin (see Nesivos/Nachalas Yaakov on Parashas Vu-eschanan); and the pillars of the doorway of the Mishkan (Sh’mos 36:38) and of the courtyard (38:17) were made differently than had been commanded (26:37 and 27:17). What about the offerings brought in the Mishkan? If the change in the way the nation related to G-d manifested itself in the representation of the covenant between them, in the structure within which G-d dwelled amongst them, and in the representatives of the nation in the Temple service, did it also manifest itself in the service itself?

    By telling us, explicitly, that the offerings commanded in the Mishkan were exactly the same as had been commanded on Mt. Sinai (before the sin of the golden calf, as were the “Milu’im,” from which Toras Kohanim, Tzav 18:3-5, derives the timing of the original commandments; it is significant that the Golden Altar was commanded after the “Milu’im,” as this might be where the changes began), the Torah is teaching us that the nature of the service itself was the same as it would have been even had there been no golden calf. “These are the laws that G-d commanded Moshe on Mt. Sinai,” before the sin of the golden calf, “on the day that He commanded the Children of Israel to bring their offerings to G-d” in the future, after they build the Mishkan “in the Sinai Desert,” as opposed to having commanded them now, for immediate use.

About

Producer at WFAN; gives weekly Chumash shiur, writes weekly D'var Torah (also available at www.AishDas.org/ta); Co-founder/trustee of the Clifton Cheder (http://www.cliftoncheder.org)