S.A.L.T. – PARSHAT NASO

By Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei Shabbat

            Parashat Naso continues the Torah’s discussion begun in the previous parasha concerning the special designation of the leviyim.  In the wilderness, the leviyim’s primary role involved dismantling the ark prior to travel, transporting it, and then reassembling it when the nation encamped.  Once the permanent Beit Ha-mikdash was erected, the leviyim’s responsibilities were, mainly, to guard the Temple and to sing in the Temple courtyard as the sacrifices were being offered.

            These two obligations – shemira (guarding) and shira (singing) – reflect two responsibilities of Torah leaders – and, though perhaps to a lesser extent, all Torah Jews – that may at times seem at odds with one another.  According to some sources (Bamidbar Rabba to 3:38, the Rambam’s Guide for the Perplexed 3:44), the purpose (or one of the purposes) of the levite guard was to prevent visitors from treading upon areas in and around the Temple that were forbidden for them (due to ritual impurity and the like).  The leviyim were assigned the task of protecting the sacred domain from those who would otherwise – either knowingly or unintentionally – desecrate it, firmly denying entry to those whose presence in the Mikdash would defile the holy sanctum.  Symbolically, the obligation of shemira represents the responsibility to protect and preserve our authentic Torah tradition, to thwart attempts to “defile” our sacred and cherished laws, beliefs and values.  This task oftentimes requires difficult and tense confrontations, taking unpopular positions and standing firm to block the “intruders” who seek to defile the Torah.

            But in addition, the leviyim bore the responsibility of “shira,” to create and maintain a warm, pleasant, inviting aura in the Beit Ha-mikdash.  Alongside their unpopular role as guardians of the Mikdash, the leviyim were also assigned the task of enhancing the experience of the Temple pilgrimage, greeting visitors with joyful, spirited music.  Besides the uneasy role of “guardians” of the Torah, we also bear the responsibility of “shira,” to create an attractive, welcoming atmosphere of joy and serenity around the study and observance of the Torah.  Even if at times we are compelled to wage difficult struggles in defense of the Torah, we must still ensure to “sing,” to exude warmth, love and joy.

            The Gemara (Arakhin 11b) rules that a levi who performs a role assigned to a different levi violates a Torah prohibition and is liable to death.  It is forbidden for us to reject either of these two roles.  We cannot accept the role of “singing,” of expressing the beauty, joy and pleasantness of Torah life, without recognizing the critical need to stand guard, to oppose those who seek to distort or ridicule our Torah tradition.  At the same time, we may not fulfill the role of shemira without also committing ourselves to the role of shira.  Our firm defense of the Torah must never detract from the “song” of Torah, from the pleasant, enchanting and positive atmosphere that we must maintain and spread throughout our homes, communities and institutions.

Sunday

            The Torah in Parashat Naso describes the sota ritual, whereby a woman whose husband has reason to suspect her of infidelity is made to drink specially prepared water that determines her innocence or guilt.  Chazal, in several places (Chulin 141a, Sukka 53a, Nedarim 66b, and elsewhere), note the significance of the fact that this ritual entails the erasure of the divine Name.  The Torah describes the warning that the kohen would articulate to the woman before giving her the water, and instructs the kohen to write the warning on parchment, and then erase the ink into the water (5:23).  This writ included the Name of God (“Yitein Hashem…be-teit Hashem” – 5:21), and Chazal viewed this aspect of the sota ritual as indicative of just how far God is prepared to go to repair a strained relationship between husband and wife.  In order to dispel a husband’s suspicions, God went so far as to command the erasure of His Name, through which the woman’s innocence could be proven.

            Chazal here teach that restoring peaceful relations among people often requires taking drastic action.  Erasing God’s Name is generally deemed a grievous sin, but this strict prohibition is waived for the purpose of repairing a relationship.  The Sages inferred from this halakha that a strained relationship demands drastic measures, steps that we would not ordinarily consider.  Rigid thinking will keep the quarreling parties apart, whereas an open-minded approach to devise creative compromises is a critical step in the process of resolving conflicts.

            This applies as well to maintaining relationships before trouble sets in.  Cooperation depends upon the partners’ willingness to think “outside the box,” to consider possibilities that they would otherwise never contemplate.  The more rigid and limited we are in our thinking, the less likely we are to successfully work together with other people.  The sota ritual sets an extreme precedent of taking normally unthinkable measures for the sake of preserving a relationship.  In its more moderate application, this precedent instructs us to show flexibility when we work with other people, to open our minds to possibilities we would instinctively had never considered.

Monday

            The Torah in Parashat Naso (chapter 6) discusses the basic laws of the nazir, an individual who takes the nazirite vow whereby it becomes forbidden for him to cut his hair, drink wine, and come in direct contact with a human corpse.

            The Midrash (Bamidbar Rabba 10) makes the following comment regarding a nazir:

Look how the mitzvot beautify Israel!  After all, allowing one’s hair to grow is disgraceful for him, as he does not groom his hair. But since he grows it for the sake of Heaven, the verse refers to it as a crown upon his head, as it says [in reference to the nazir], “for the crown of his God is upon his head” (6:7).

The Sages here note the contrast between the Torah’s perspective on the nazir’s overgrown hair, and how it is likely perceived by the people around him.  While onlookers may disapprove of and jeer at his unkempt appearance, the Torah considers it “a crown upon his head,” as it is the result of a measure undertaken “for the sake of Heaven,” out of a sincere desire to improve his relationship with Creator.  Even if for others his hair is a source of “disgrace,” for the Almighty it is a source of pride and honor.

            Chazal remind us in this passage that our definitions of propriety and acceptability often do not correspond with those of the society around us.  That which society deems “graceful” could be viewed by the Torah as a “crown,” a sign of stature and honor.  The mitzvot “beautify Israel” even if they subject us to the scorn and ridicule of other people.  The nazir appears unkempt and unattractive, but the Torah regards his hair growth as a “crown” because it demonstrates his spiritual ambition.  Similarly, any mitzva we do with sincere devotion, “for the sake of Heaven,” is cherished by God and should be a source of pride and gratification, even if others view it as a source of ridicule.

Tuesday

            The Torah in Parashat Naso (5:5-10) speaks of a case involving a person who commits a crime against his fellow and subsequently confesses, and requires this individual to bring a special offering and to pay a penalty.  The Sages understood these verses as referring to a situation of gezel ha-ger, where a person stole from a convert who has no Jewish relatives, and he denied the crime on oath.  If the thief confesses his wrongdoing and seeks expiation, he must bring a special offering and pay the stolen funds – plus a 20% penalty – to the victim, and if the victim died, then the penalty is given to a kohen.

            The Torah introduces this halakha by stating, “Ish o isha ki ya’asu mi-kol chatot ha-adam…” (“If a man or woman committed a sin against a person”).  Rashi, in his commentary to Pirkei Avot (5:21), cites this verse as the Biblical source for the well-established halakhic concept that a young man becomes accountable for his mitzva observance at the age of thirteen.  The Torah here uses the term “ish” (“man,” implying adulthood) in the context of guilt borne for a transgression, and the word “ish” is also used in reference to Shimon and Levi when they launched an attack on the city of Shekhem to rescue their abducted sister (“ish charbo” – Bereishit 34:25).  Rashi writes that Levi, the younger of the two brothers, was thirteen years old at the time, and thus the Torah’s use of the word “ish” in that context establishes the age of thirteen as the youngest age to which we can apply the term “ish.”  As such, when the Torah here in Parashat Naso establishes accountability for wrongdoing committed by an “ish,” it refers to a man thirteen years of age or older.

            Rashi then proceeds to cite a different view, whereby the significance of the age of thirteen is actually not established by the Torah itself.  According to this position, a young man is considered an adult with respect to halakhic accountability when he reaches physical maturity (referred to by Chazal as “simanim,” or two adult hairs).  The Sages mention the age of thirteen as the age of halakhic adulthood only because it is then when boys generally reach physical maturity, and this age confirms the authenticity of a boy’s signs of physical maturity.  Hairs can occasionally be the result of an unusual skin condition (“shuma”), and not signs of physical development, and it is only at the age of thirteen that we assume adult hairs to be indicators of physical maturity.

            It thus emerges that according to one view, the Torah established the age of thirteen as the minimum age at which a child becomes a halakhic adult, whereas according to the second view, this age is required only as a practical matter, to confirm that the signs of physical development are indeed indicative of the child’s growth into an adult.

            The practical difference between these two views arises in the exceptional case of a girl who bears a child before the age of twelve (which is the equivalent of the age of thirteen for a boy).  The Gemara in Masekhet Yevamot (12b) establishes the rule that “banim harei hein ke-simanim” (“children are the same as signs of physical maturity”).  Meaning, if a girl delivers a child, she may be presumed to have the halakhic status of an adult woman regardless of whether she has shown signs of physical development.  Several Rishonim, including Tosefot and the Ramban, claim that this applies even before the age of twelve; if a girl younger than twelve years of age delivers a child, she would have the halakhic status of an adult.  Rav Chayim of Brisk (cited by his son, Rav Yitzchak Zev, in Kitvei Ha-Griz, beginning of Temura), explained that this ruling corresponds with the second view mentioned above.  Meaning, these Rishonim viewed the age of twelve (in the case of a girl) as required only to affirm the appearance of authentic “simanim,” and not as a separate prerequisite.  In the case of a girl who delivered a child, then, her physical development is proven through her ability to conceive, and thus she is considered a halakhic adult even though she did not reach the age of twelve.

The Rambam (Hilkhot Ishut 2:9), by contrast, writes that the principle of “banim harei hein ke-simanim” applies only after a girl has reached the age of twelve.  In his view, a girl who conceives before the age of twelve is not considered a halakhic adult, despite her ability to conceive.  According to the Rambam, as Rav Chayim explained, the age of twelve or thirteen constitutes a separate prerequisite, in addition to simanim.  It is necessary not to confirm the appearance of authentic simanim, but rather as a separate prerequisite to qualify as a halakhic adult.  This perspective corresponds with the first view mentioned by Rashi, according to which the Torah designates the age of thirteen (for a male) as the minimum age of halakhic accountability by using the word “ish.”  This age is thus required not to prove the authenticity of a child’s simanim, but rather as a separate prerequisite established by the Torah.

(Based on Rav Chayim Dov Eisenstein’s Peninim Mi-bei Midresha, Parashat Naso)

Wednesday

            The opening section of Parashat Naso discusses the tasks assigned to the three Levite families.  In its conclusion to this section (4:47), the Torah refers to the leviyim’s role in the wilderness with the terms “avodat avoda” and “avodat masa.”  The second expression – “avodat masa” – clearly refers to the job of transporting the Mishkan during Benei Yisrael’s journeys through the wilderness.  The term “avodat avoda,” however, is more ambiguous.

            The Tosafists, in Da’at Zekeinim, surprisingly explain the term “avodat avoda” as referring to certain aspects of the “avoda” – the ritual service performed by the kohanim in the Mishkan.  Specifically, the Da’at Zekeinim claims, the leviyim participated in shechita – slaughtering sacrificial animals – as well as hefshet ve-nitu’ach – skinning and slicing the animals after slaughtering.  Da’at Zekeinim notes two instances later in Tanakh where we find explicit reference to the leviyim performing these roles, which were generally assigned to the kohanim.  In Sefer Ezra (6:2), we read of the paschal sacrifice brought by the Jews who returned to Jerusalem from the Babylonian exile, and the verse tells that the leviyim slaughtered the sacrifices.  And in Sefer Divrei Ha-yamim II (29:34), amidst the description of the rededication of the Mikdash in the times of King Chizkiyahu, we read that the kohanim were not able to tend to all the ola sacrifices brought by the people.  The leviyim therefore assisted the kohanim in skinning the animals after slaughtering.  Da’at Zekeinim points to these instances as precedents to the leviyim assisting in the priestly duties when the need arose.  Thus, when the Torah speaks of the leviyim performing “avodat avoda,” it refers to these responsibilities which the leviyim were occasionally called upon to assume to assist the kohanim.

            One might wonder why the Da’at Zekeinim includes shechita in this list of tasks normally reserved for the kohanim but occasionally borne also by the leviyim.  The Mishna (Zevachim 31b) explicitly establishes the famous principle of “shechita kesheira be-zar” – that the slaughtering of a sacrifice may be performed by a non-kohen.  (And, interestingly enough, the Zohar in Parashat Bamidbar – vol. 3, 124a – says that kohanim should specifically not perform shechita.)  Why, then, would Da’at Zekeinim group together the rituals of shechita, hefshet and nitu’ach, if the second and third are generally reserved for the kohanim, whereas the first is, from the outset, open to all members of Benei Yisrael?

            Rav David Mandelbaum, in his Pardeis Yosef He-chadash (to Bamidbar 4:24), suggests that according to the Da’at Zekeinim, the ritual of shechita was generally reserved for the kohanim during the period of travel through the wilderness.  The well-known halakhic principle of “shechita kesheira be-zar” did not apply during this period, and therefore shechita, like hefshet and nitu’ach, was a role generally assigned to the kohanim, in which the leviyim were occasionally called upon to join.

            The reason for this distinction, Rav Mandelbaum explains, is a comment cited by Tosefot in Masekhet Yoma (32b) in the name of Rabbenu Yaakov of Orleans (a student of Rabbenu Tam).  Rabbenu Yaakov attributed the rule of “shechita kesheira be-zar” to the fact that shechita is not exclusive to sacrifices.  The ritual of slaughtering is performed even on non-consecrated animals, for the purpose of preparing kosher meat, and for this reason, the act of shechita cannot be classified under the halakhic category of “avoda” – Temple rituals.  And since it is not deemed an “avoda,” it may be performed by any member of Am Yisrael, and does not require a kohen.  As Rav Mandelbaum cites from earlier sources (including the Chid”a, in Birkei Yosef to Y.D. 13:2, in the name of the work Or Chadash), Rabbenu Yaakov of Orleans’ theory could result in a distinction between the period of the wilderness and later periods.  According to one view (Rabbi Yishmael, in Masekhet Chulin 16a), non-sacrificial animals were not slaughtered during the forty years Benei Yisrael spent in the wilderness.  Unlike after Benei Yisrael’s entry into the land, during the period in the wilderness non-sacrificial animals used for ordinary consumption were killed through nechira (stabbing), whereas shechita was performed only for sacrificial animals.  This view is accepted by the Rambam, in his Hilkhot Shechita (4:4).  Thus, during this period, shechita did, indeed, qualify as an “avoda,” and, as such, according to Rabbenu Yaakov of Orleans, shechita in the wilderness had to be performed specifically by a kohen.

            Quite possibly, then, notwithstanding the general rule of “shechita kesheira be-zar,” the Da’at Zekeinim is indeed correct in grouping shechita together with hefshet and nitu’ach, as all three were generally reserved for the kohanim during the years of travel in the wilderness.

Thursday

            Toward the end of Parashat Naso we read of the gifts brought by the nesi’im, the twelve tribal leaders of Benei Yisrael, on the occasion of the Mishkan’s inauguration.  In addition to the individual series of gifts brought by each nasi, the nesi’im also made a joint donation of animal-led wagons to assist the leviyim in the transporting of the Mishkan.  The Torah tells that the nesi’im brought six wagons, which are described as “eglot tzav,” and each wagon was pulled by two oxen (7:3).

            What does the term “eglot tzav” mean?

            Rashi, citing the Sifrei, explains the term “tzav” to mean “covered.”  This is also the view taken by Onkelos, who translates the term “eglot tzav” as “eglan kid mechapyan” (“wagons that were covered”).  Rashi applies this meaning of the word “tzav” in a verse in the final chapter of Sefer Yeshayahu (66:20) which foresees the time when offerings will be sent for God to Jerusalem on animals and in wagons and chariots, including “tzabim.”  According to Rashi, this term refers to wagons that are covered to protect the transported goods.

            It should be noted that in modern Hebrew, the word “tzav” is used to mean “turtle,” likely based upon the aforementioned interpretation of the word “tzav” as “covered,” which is suitable for a turtle whose body is covered by a shell.  The “tzav” is actually listed in Sefer Vayikra (11:29) among the eight sheratzim (creatures whose carcasses transmit ritual impurity), but Rashi there explains “tzav” as referring to “froit,” the French word for “toad.”  In his commentary to Masekhet Ketubot (15a), Rashi similarly identifies the “tzav” as a creature that resembles a frog, presumably referring to a toad.  Targum Yonatan (in Sefer Vayikra), however, identifies the “tzav” as “chardona,” a type of lizard.  Rav David Tzvi Hoffman, in his commentary to Sefer Vayikra, notes that the Septuagint also identifies the “tzav” as a lizard.  (This is the view accepted by Professor Yehuda Felix, as cited by Rav Uri Dasberg z”l in Shabbat Be’shabbato, Parashat Naso, 5761.)

            In any event, other commentators explain the term “eglot tzav” differently.  The Rashbam and Chizkuni claim that the word “tzav” is a shortened version of the word “tzava” (“military”), and they thus explain the phrase “eglot tzav” as referring to especially sturdy transport wagons that were commonly used for military purposes.

            Ibn Ezra, by contrast, interprets “tzav” as a type of ox that was used for transport.  Thus, “eglot tzav” simply means wagons that are pulled by oxen.

            Ibn Ezra also cites – and rejects – a theory claiming that the word “tzav” means “stuffed.”  According to this view, the term “eglot tzav” refers to the fact that the wagons were filled with cargo.  This is, indeed, the approach taken by the Ramban, who claims that the individual offerings of the nesi’im – which the Torah proceeds to identify in the subsequent passages – were all loaded onto the six wagons, and this is what the Torah means when it describes the wagons as “eglot tzav.”  Ibn Ezra notes that proponents of this theory draw proof from the word “tzava” used earlier in Parashat Naso (5:21), in reference to the swelled belly of the sota who is guilty of adultery.  That usage of the verb tz.v. perhaps establishes that this term can refer to something that is oversized, such that “eglot tzav” could mean “stuffed wagons.”

Friday

            Parashat Naso discusses the laws relevant to a nazir – an individual who accepts upon himself the nazirite vow, which requires him to abstain from wine, avoid contact with human corpses, and grow his hair.  If a nazir happens to come in contact with a human corpse, such as if he happens to be in a building at the time when somebody in that building dies, he must bring a special sacrifice, which includes both an ola (burnt offering) and a chatat (sin offering).  The Torah writes explicitly that the chatat serves to bring the nazir atonement (“ve-khiper alav mei-asher chata al ha-nafesh” – 6:11).

            Many have addressed the question of why a nazir would require atonement for an incident for which he clearly cannot be blamed.  We could understand the need for expiation through a chatat if the nazir negligently walked into a cemetery, or was otherwise remiss in his attempts to avoid contact with a corpse.  But why does he require atonement for a sudden death that occurred under the roof of the building where he happened to be at that moment?  This question is likely what led Rabbi Elazar Ha-kapar (cited by Rashi) to make his famous comment that the nazir requires atonement “she-tzi’er atzmo min ha-yayin” – for abstaining from wine, unnecessarily denying himself the delights of this world.  But as many writers noted, Rabbi Elazar Ha-kapar’s comment does not seem to explain why the nazir requires atonement for his abstention only after he mistakenly becomes tamei (ritually impure).

            The Meshekh Chokhma suggests a novel explanation for why the nazir requires atonement after an accidental encounter with a human corpse.  He compares this nazir’s situation to Chazal’s comment in Masekhet Makot (11) regarding the kohen gadol’s accountability for an accidental murder that occurs among the Jewish people during his tenure.  The Gemara, remarkably, states that a kohen gadol bears a degree of guilt for such tragedies, as his position requires him to pray to the Almighty to protect Am Yisrael and bless them with peace.  Similarly, the Meshekh Chokhma suggests, when an individual accepts upon himself the nazirite vow, with the purpose of elevating himself to a higher spiritual plane, he takes on responsibility for his fellow Jews around him.  If somebody dies in his vicinity, then he bears a degree of guilt – just as a kohen gadol is held accountable, to some extent, for accidents that happen during his tenure.  The nazir is said to wear a “crown of God” upon his head (6:7) – just like a kohen gadol (Vayikra 21:12) – and therefore he, too, bears a degree of responsibility for tragedies that occur around him.

            Both the kohen gadol and nazir are people who are separate and distinct from the rest of the people, as indicated by the term nezer (“crown”) that is applied to them, indicating a stature of distinction.  The Torah wishes to impress upon them, and us, that their “separateness” must bring them closer to the people, and not further away from the people.  They are set apart to help Am Yisrael, not for them to be isolated from Am Yisrael.  In the case of a nazir, who voluntarily assumes this condition of separateness, the Torah warns him that this self-imposed status entails greater responsibility for the rest of the nation.  Lest he approach his nezirut as a period of seclusion and dissociation from Kelal Yisrael, the Torah warns that to the contrary, he is held personally accountable for what happens around him.

            Rav Yehuda Amital zt”l often recalled his insistence that the bet midrash in his yeshiva should have windows.  He felt it was critical for yeshiva students, during the years they spend engrossed in Torah study, seemingly focused exclusively on themselves and their own spiritual growth, to feel part of Kelal Yisrael, rather than detached from Kelal Yisrael.  Their growth in Torah and character resulted in greater responsibility for Am Yisrael, even if practically they spend this period of their lives inside the “ivory tower” of the yeshiva.  When we build ourselves spiritually, we must do so with the aim of shouldering the nation’s burden, of lifting the rest of Am Yisrael along with us, rather than isolating ourselves from the rest of the nation.