S.A.L.T. – PARASHAT BEHAALOTEKHA

By Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei Shabbat

            The final verses of Parashat Behaalotekha tell the famous story of Aharon and Miriam’s disparaging remarks about their brother, Moshe.  The Torah does not make it entirely clear what Aharon and Miriam said about Moshe, saying simply that they “spoke about the matter of the Kushite woman whom Moshe married,” then curiously adding, “for he had married a Kushite woman” (12:1).

            Rashi explains that Miriam and Aharon objected to Moshe’s divorcing his wife, Tzipora, not realizing that God had specifically commanded him to undertake this measure after Matan Torah.  Miriam and Aharon’s conversation took place specifically now, because Miriam first heard about Moshe’s divorce during the recent incident of Eldad and Meidad.

            Rashi’s explanation gives rise to several questions, as later writers noted.  First, in describing the conversation, the Torah mentions only Moshe’s marriage to Tzipora, not his divorce.  Secondly, this approach does not seem to adequately explain the Torah’s emphasis on Moshe’s having married an “isha kushit.”  Generally, the term “kushit” is used as a derogatory term for inferior peoples (as in Amos 9:7), and it thus seems difficult to understand why Miriam and Aharon would use this term in reference to Tzipora.  Rashi implicitly addresses this question and claims that the word “kushit” here means “beautiful,” and Miriam and Aharon were thus lamenting Moshe’s having left his exceptional wife.  Clearly, however, this is not the plain, obvious meaning of the word “kushit.”

            Others, therefore, claimed that to the contrary, Miriam and Aharon expressed their objection to Moshe’s marriage to a foreign woman.  This is the explanation given by the Ri, cited in Moshav Zekeinim (a collection of Torah commentaries by the Tosafists).  Miriam and Aharon spoke disparagingly about Moshe’s marriage to a “Kushite woman,” figuring that it was unbefitting for anyone, especially Moshe, to be married to a foreign woman.

            However, this approach also gives rise to several difficulties.  For one thing, why would Miriam and Aharon voice their objection to Moshe’s marriage only now, at this point, as Benei Yisrael traveled from Sinai toward Eretz Yisrael?  Moshe had been married to Tzipora for many years, and had been leading Benei Yisrael for over two years.  Why suddenly now did Miriam and Aharon express their disapproval of Moshe’s marriage?  Secondly, this explanation does not appear to account for Miriam and Aharon’s comments about their being prophets: “Has the Lord spoken only with Moshe?  Did He not speak with us, as well?” (12:2).  How is this relevant to their complaints about Moshe’s marriage?

            Nisim Mazuz (writing in the journal Bisdei Chemed), suggests a novel approach to explain the context of Miriam and Aharon’s comments.  In Sefer Shemot (chapter 18), we read of Yitro’s arrival at the Israelite camp at Sinai, together with Tzipora, whom Moshe had previously sent back to Midyan (“achar shilucheha” – Shemot 18:2).  It appears (as Rashi writes in his commentary there in Shemot) that Moshe had sent Tzipora back home at some point during his stay in Egypt, during the process of the Exodus, and Yitro brought her back to Moshe at Sinai.  Possibly, Moshe’s siblings assumed, or hoped, that Tzipora’s stay was temporary.  In their view, Moshe, the leader of Benei Yisrael, could not stay married to a foreign woman, and they thus anticipated Yitro and Tzipora’s swift or eventual return to Midyan.

However, as we read earlier in Parashat Behaalotekha (10-29-32), Moshe invited Chovav – whom the Sages identify as Yitro – to accompany Benei Yisrael to their land.  Although it is unclear from the text whether or Yitro ultimately accepted this invitation, several commentators claim that Yitro indeed joined Benei Yisrael on their journey from Sinai, and this accounts for the presence of the Keni tribe, which descended from Yitro, in Eretz Yisrael (see Shofetim 1:15 and 4:11).  As Benei Yisrael journeyed from Sinai, then, it became clear that Yitro and Tzipora were joining the nation permanently.  Miriam and Aharon thus complained that Moshe remained married to Tzipora, whom they deemed unsuitable as the wife of the nation’s leader and prophet.

As for Miriam and Aharon’s claim that God “spoke with us, as well,” Nisim Mazuz suggests that they sought to dispel the possibility that Moshe knew something they didn’t about the Torah’s restrictions on marriage.  They were in effect saying, “Did God tell Moshe something that He didn’t tell us about whom a person can marry?”  They mistakenly assumed that they had all the information that Moshe had, an assumption which led them to wrongly criticize his decision to remain married to Tzipora. 

Sunday

            Parashat Behaalotekha begins with God’s command concerning the daily kindling of the menorah in the Mishkan.  The Torah tells that after God issued the command, “Va-ya’as kein Aharon” (“Aharon did so” – 8:3).  Rashi, citing the Sifrei, comments that the Torah’s intent in this verse is “to give him praise, for not deviating” (“le-hagid shevacho she-lo shina”).

            Many later writers struggled with the question of why Aharon was deserving of such praise for not “deviating” from God’s instructions concerning the menorah.  Was this the most challenging of Aharon’s responsibilities?  Why would he have been tempted to disregard these halakhot?  Why was his faithful execution of this task deemed especially praiseworthy?

            It is likely that Chazal made this comment off the backdrop of other instances where we find otherwise admirable figures who indeed “deviated,” who felt inclined to diverge from the fixed protocols in the Mishkan.  Nadav and Avihu, of course, were killed when they brought an unauthorized incense offering in the Mishkan.  Already on the first day they served as kohanim, Nadav and Avihu violated the Mishkan’s guidelines and performed a voluntary ritual, which was forbidden.  And later in Sefer Bamidbar, we read of Korach’s revolt against Moshe’s authority, a campaign that was fueled, perhaps among other factors, by his desire to serve as kohen gadol (see 16:10 – “u-vikashtem gam kehuna”).  As Moshe noted in his response to Korach, he belonged to the special tribe of Levi, and to the distinguished levite family of Kehat.  He was a member of a small, privileged group of people that were singled out for the coveted task of transporting the sacred articles of the Mishkan.  And, in fact, the Midrash Tanchuma (Korach, 2) informs us that Korach was among those who transported the aron, the most sacred of all the articles in the Mishkan.  He was given one of the most prestigious tasks in the nation – and yet he still desired the role of the kohen gadol.

            Chazal perhaps noted the natural desire of those involved in the Mishkan to initiate, to break free of the constraints which the halakhic system imposes upon spiritual endeavors.  Exposure to the unique sanctity of the Mishkan engendered the desire for greater freedom of spiritual expression.  Nadav, Avihu and Korach were all assigned special roles in the Mishkan, but they felt restless and constrained.  They wanted to draw closer to God in ways that were beyond the restrictions that God Himself imposed.

            This might be why Chazal gave praise to Aharon “for not deviating.”  He did not seek spiritual satisfaction outside the constraints of the halakhic system that governed his service in the Mishkan.  He accepted and felt gratified by his assigned role, without looking to create a new role for himself.

            Chazal (see Rashi to Shemot 4:14) note the exceptional humility displayed by Aharon when he genuinely celebrated his younger brother’s designation as the nation’s leader.  Aharon’s unique quality was accepting his divinely-assigned role without resentment, and without seeking anything more.  Feelings of spiritual satisfaction and self-aggrandizement did not figure into Aharon’s equation.  His desire was to fulfill God’s will, not to fulfill his own will.  He therefore felt no resentment over the prestigious role given to his young brother, and felt no need to “deviate,” to create his own niche, to extend beyond the confines of the halakhically-mandated rituals in the Mishkan.  And for this he certainly was deserving of the Torah’s praise – “le-hagid shevacho she-lo shina.”

(See Rabbi Moshe Willig’s  article “The Loyal Lamplighter”)

Monday

            The opening section of Parashat Behaalotekha presents the mitzva of kindling the menorah in the Mishkan.  The Midrash (Bamidbar Rabba 15:8, Tanchuma 6, and elsewhere), commenting on these verses, presents the following analogy:

A king had a friend and he said to him, “You should know that I will be eating with you – go and prepare for me.”  His friend went ahead and prepared an ordinary couch, an ordinary lamp and an ordinary table.  When the king arrived, he came surrounded by his escorts on all sides with golden lamps.  When his friend saw all this splendor, he was ashamed, and hid everything he had prepared, as everything was ordinary.

The king said to him, “What happened?  Did I not tell you that I will be eating with you?  Why didn’t you prepare anything for me?”

His friend said, “His Majesty, I saw all this splendor that accompanied you and I felt ashamed, so I hid everything I had prepared for you, which was all ordinary.”

The king said to him, “By your life, I reject all the utensils I brought with me.  Because of my affection for you, I want to use only yours!”

Similarly, the Midrash continues, God commanded Benei Yisrael to construct a Mishkan and to illuminate it with a kindled menorah, even though God is, in the Midrash’s words, “entirely light” (“kulo ora”).  Though it may at first seem absurd for God – who is “entirely light” – to ask Benei Yisrael to kindle seven small lamps for Him, this is indeed what He commanded.  And so when God came to reside in the Mishkan, as we read in the final verses of Sefer Shemot (40:35), Moshe was unable to enter, until God invited him in and assured him, “By your lives, because of My affection for you, I reject everything and use yours!”

            This Midrashic passage is fascinating on several levels.  From a purely exegetical standpoint, it presents a remarkable reading of the verse in Sefer Shemot that describes Moshe’s inability to enter the Mishkan.  At first glance, it appears that Moshe’s entry was blocked, either physically or figuratively, because of the dense cloud that filled the Mishkan signifying the divine presence (“ki shakhan alav he-anan”).  According to the Midrash, however, Moshe did not enter the Mishkan just as the king’s friend in the parable put away his dishes.  Quite simply, Moshe was embarrassed by the Mishkan.  Whereas in human terms the Mishkan was a magnificent, ornate structure, for God, it was “ordinary.”  Moshe realized the vast gap between anything human beings could create – even the spectacular Mishkan! – and the standards that are suitable for the King of kings, and he felt ashamed.  It was only after hearing the Almighty’s reassurance that he entered the Mishkan.

            The king’s response to his friend – representing God’s directives to us, His beloved nation – conveys a critical lesson in our avodat Hashem, namely, that we need not be ashamed by our “ordinary utensils.”  By definition, anything we do for the Almighty will be “ordinary.”  But when He chose and gave the Torah to a nation of flawed, limited, mortal human beings, He decided to “reject” His own “utensils,” the spiritual perfection of the heavenly hosts, and to accept what we offer Him.  As in the Gemara’s famous description of Moshe persuading the angels that the Torah belongs on earth, and not in the heavens (Shabbat 88), here, too, the Sages remind us that we were chosen to serve the Almighty as human beings, not as angels.  Of course, we must never be complacent, and must always struggle to ascend to the higher rungs of the spiritual ladder.  At the same time, however, we must acknowledge that our “utensils” will always be “ordinary,” that our service of God will never be perfect, and that this is precisely what the Almighty wants – to be served with “ordinary utensils.”

            Furthermore, the Midrash here warns of what happens when people make the mistake of feeling ashamed by their “ordinary utensils.”  Recall that the king’s friend felt ashamed, and quickly put away everything he had prepared for the king.  When people set their expectations too high, when they think that God demands spiritual perfection, they give up, and do nothing.  They despair, and “put away” everything they had done; they forego on the entire enterprise.  The “King” then arrives and wonders, “What happened?  Why didn’t you prepare anything for me?”

Demanding or expecting perfection from ourselves or our children will likely lead to despair.  If we set unrealistically high standards, rather than acknowledging God’s desire to “use” our “ordinary utensils,” we will end up with nothing.  We must “set God’s table” with the best “utensils” we have, even if they are chipped or just plain and ordinary.  If we think that God insists on only “regal” standards, on angelic perfection, if we feel too ashamed to put out our “ordinary utensils,” then we will end up feeling even more ashamed when He comes and asks, “Why didn’t you prepare anything for me?”

Tuesday

            Rashi, in his opening comments to Parashat Behaalotekha (as cited by the Ramban; many editions of Rashi’s commentary do not include this passage), cites a famous passage from the Midrash Tanchuma to explain the context of the opening verses of this parasha.  Parashat Behaalotekha begins with the mitzva of the daily lighting of the menorah, and the Midrash claims that this command, which was directed toward Aharon, was a response to Aharon’s disappointment in the wake of the events recorded at the end of the previous parasha.  On the occasion of the Mishkan’s inauguration, each of the twelve tribal leaders brought a special series of offerings, but Aharon and his tribe did not participate in this ceremony.  Aharon thus felt distressed, and God sought to lift his spirits by reminding him of his daily obligation to kindle the lights of the menorah.

            The Ramban raises several questions on the Midrash’s comments, wondering why Aharon would feel distressed by his exclusion from the tribal leaders’ offerings, after he offered numerous special offerings during the eight days of the Mishkan’s consecration (before the nesi’im’s offerings).  Furthermore, the Ramban notes, it seems difficult to understand why specifically the mitzva of menorah would alleviated Aharon’s disappointment.  Aharon was exclusively named kohen gadol and assigned many special roles in the Mishkan.  Why would the menorah, in particular, serve as a source of comfort and reassurance of his prominent position?

            The Or Ha-chayim explains the Midrash’s comments in light of the Gemara’s discussion in Masekhet Menachot (88b) concerning the cleaning of the lamps of the menorah.  According to one view in the Gemara, the lamps were removable.  Each day, when the time came to clean the lamps in preparation for the new lighting, the kohen would remove each lamp, thoroughly clean it, and then put it back in place.  The Or Ha-chayim notes that according to this view, the kohen actually “built” the menorah each day anew.  And this was precisely God’s “consolation” to Aharon.  True, he was excluded from the special offerings of the nesi’im celebrating the inauguration of the Mishkan.  However, he was granted the greater privilege of “inaugurating” the Mishkan each and every day.  The daily ritual of cleaning the menorah entailed the “reassembly” of the Mishkan each day, such that, in a certain sense, Aharon took part in the Mishkan’s “inauguration” every day when he cleaned the menorah.

            Each day, we have what to “clean”; there is room to improve upon and refine the work of the previous day.  God’s message to Aharon is that our day-to-day work to refine and perfect ourselves and Am Yisrael is no less significant or “inaugural” then the original dedication of the Mishkan.  Aharon had no reason to feel slighted, because he “inaugurates” the Mishkan each and every day, by cleaning the menorah.  Similarly, our day-to-day efforts to “clean,” to improve the quality of Torah study and observance, may legitimately be considered a “rededication” of the Mishkan, a renewal of the sanctity of Am Yisrael.  Even our seemingly small achievements and contributions are thus immensely valuable and significant, and should provide us with both a sense of gratification and the motivation to continue our efforts with even greater vigor and intensity in the coming days, weeks and years.

Wednesday

            Yesterday, we noted the famous comments of the Midrash Tanchuma in explaining the connection between the opening verses of Parashat Behaalotekha, which discuss the mitzva of the menorah, and the final section of Parashat Naso, which tells of the dedication of the Mishkan.  The Midrash claimed that Aharon felt distressed over his exclusion from the special offerings brought by the tribal leaders to celebrate the Mishkan’s inauguration.  In response, God reminded Aharon of the unique privilege he was given to kindle the menorah each day.

            Ibn Ezra suggests a much different explanation for the connection between the two sections.  He notes that the previous parasha, Parashat Naso, concludes by informing us that after the Mishkan’s construction, God spoke to Moshe from in between the keruvim atop the ark.  In the beginning of Parashat Behaalotekha, Ibn Ezra suggests, the Torah seeks to draw our attention to the fact that these meetings between God and Moshe were not restricted to any particular time-frame.  Lest one think that God spoke to Moshe only during the daytime hours, the Torah inserts in this context a brief passage concerning the menorah, which burned throughout the night.  It thus alludes to us that God spoke to Moshe even at night, and not only during the day.

            The Ramban disputes Ibn Ezra’s contention, noting Chazal’s comment in the Mekhilta (Bo, 1) that God spoke to Moshe only during the day.  Furthermore, the Ramban adds, Chazal emphasized the fact that unlike other prophets, who received their prophecies in dreams, Moshe was fully awake and alert when the Almighty spoke to him.  Thus, Moshe’s prophecies came to him specifically during the day, when he was awake.

            Abarbanel defends Ibn Ezra’s theory, and claims that it is fully consistent with the view expressed by Chazal.  When the Mekhilta states that God spoke to Moshe only by day, it meant simply that Moshe’s prophecies came to him while he was awake.  During the nighttime hours when Moshe was not sleeping, he could, indeed, receive prophecy, and according to Ibn Ezra, this is precisely what the Torah wanted to inform by inserting a brief passage about the kindling of the menorah.

            Why was it important for the Torah to emphasize that Moshe received prophecy both by day and by night, and why did it convey this message specifically through the reference to the menorah?

            The sacrificial rituals were not performed in the Beit Ha-mikdash during the nighttime hours, but the burning of the candles of the menorah signified that despite the inactivity, the Temple was still “functioning” and God’s presence remained.  The practical cessation from ritual activity did not signify a cessation of its sanctity or the filling of its role as a residence for the Shekhina.  And therefore, the Mishkan continued to serve as the place where God met with Moshe even at night – because its status and role remained fully intact, as signified by the lights of the menorah.

            The message of the menorah, then, as understood by Ibn Ezra, is that kedusha must remain even when the practical involvement in kedusha stops.  We of course cannot directly engage in Torah and mitzvot around the clock.  Yet, we can and must ensure that the Shekhina remains with us, that we fulfill the dictate of serving as a “kingdom of priests and a sacred nation,” at all times.  Even when we must, as a practical matter, take time off from our directly spiritual pursuits to care for our mundane needs, we are to keep the “menorah” kindled, maintaining our standards of Godliness so that our beings can serve as a residence for the Shekhina.

Thursday

            The Torah in Parashat Behaalotekha introduces the mitzva of the chatzotzerot, the trumpets that were sounded on various occasions, including during battle and on festivals.  In listing the occasions requiring the sounding of the chatzotzerot, the Torah uses two terms that seemingly refer to festivals: “u-ve’yom simchatkhem u-ve’mo’adeikhem” (“on your day of rejoicing, and on your festivals” – 10:10).  The term “mo’adeikhem” is the common term used in reference to the festivals, but it is unclear what the Torah means when it mentions “yom simchatkhem” – “your day of rejoicing.”  To which kind of occasion does this term refer?

            The Sifrei comments that “yom simchatkhem” refers to Shabbat, and the Torah thus requires sounding the chatzotzerot not only on festivals (and on Rosh Chodesh, which the Torah mentions after “mo’adeikhem”), but also each week, on Shabbat.  The Sifrei’s comment is cited by some later commentators as evidence that Chazal acknowledged an obligation of simcha (“rejoicing”) on Shabbat.  We generally associate the obligation of simcha specifically with Yom Tov, whereas the obligation of Shabbat is viewed as a requirement of “oneg” (“enjoyment”), as opposed to “simcha.”  From the Sifrei, however, it appears that Shabbat is also an occasion of “simcha,” like Yom Tov.  (See Torah Temima to Bereishit 2:3.)

            Ibn Ezra explains the term “yom simchatkhem” differently, claiming that it relates to the previous verse, which speaks of sounding the trumpets during times of warfare.  In this verse, Ibn Ezra asserts, the Torah requires sounding the chatzotzerot again after battle, as part of the victory celebration.  When Benei Yisrael return triumphant from battle and establish a day of celebration and praise to the Almighty, they are required to sound the chatzotzerot.

            The Netziv, in his Ha’amek Davar, rejects Ibn Ezra’s theory, noting that there is no record anywhere in Tanakh of chatzotzerot being sounded after a military victory.

            Rav Yehuda Zoldan notes that in truth, there is one reference to the sounding of trumpets after a victory.  In Sefer Divrei Ha-yamim II (20:27-28), we read of the celebration held during the time of Yehoshafat after the miraculous defeat of the Amonite and Moavite forces in the Judean Desert.  The verses describe the festivities that took place in the Beit Ha-mikdash with “harps, lyres and trumpets.”  The mention of chatzotzerot in this context could perhaps provide a source for Ibn Ezra’s theory that the Torah requires sounding trumpets during a victory celebration after battle.  The Netziv perhaps dismissed this account as referring to an informal, spontaneous outburst of celebration, as opposed to the fulfillment of a Torah command. 

            In any event, the Netziv suggested a different approach, claiming that “yom simchatkhem” refers to the celebration of the chanukat ha-mizbei’ach – the dedication of the altar.  Whenever a dedication ceremony was held for the Mikdash, the trumpets would be sounded just like on Yom Tov.  The Netziv notes that trumpets were sounded during the dedication of the First Temple during the time of Shelomo (Divrei Ha-yamim II 5:13), and also during the dedication of the Second Temple, during the time of Ezra (Ezra 3:10-11).  The Meshekh Chokhma also follows this approach, and adds that the sounding of chatzotzerot is mentioned in the context of the Temple’s rededication during the time of King Chizkiyahu (Divrei Ha-yamim II 29:26).

Friday

            The Torah in Parashat Behaalotekha tells the tragic story of Kivrot Ha-ta’ava, where Benei Yisrael complained to Moshe about the conditions of travel through the wilderness, protesting specifically against the “menu.”  They nostalgically recalled the variety of foods served to them during their period of slavery in Egypt (11:5), and lamented the fact that all they had to eat in the desert was manna (11:6).

            Many writers raised the question of how to reconcile Benei Yisrael’s complaints with the famous Midrashic tradition (in the Sifrei in this parasha, among other places) that the manna assumed whichever taste a person desired.  If they were able to taste any food they wanted in the manna, then why did they miss the fish, leeks, melons and other delicacies served to them in Egypt?  Furthermore, after recording the people’s complaints, the Torah interjects with a “defense” of the manna, describing its miraculous properties, and noting that it tasted like “leshad ha-shemen” (“cream of oil” – 11:8).  How could the Torah assign a particular taste to the manna, if in reality it tasted like whatever the individual wanted?

            Rav Chaim Sabato offered the following explanation:

There is well-known adage, “Who is wealthy?  He who is gratified with his lot.”  A person who knows how to feel gratified with his lot will taste in it all the flavors in the world, not because it has all the flavors – it is certainly possible that it  only has one flavor- but because through his joy and contentment his share will be the same as many flavors…

This is the deeper meaning of Chazal.  If a person knows how to feel content with what he has, he will taste in it all the flavors in the world.  But if he wants to experience all the flavors, he will not have any flavor.  One who is content with his lot will find all the flavors, even with the slightest amount that he has, whereas if one is not content with the little he has, even an abundance will not satisfy his hunger.

According to this reading, the manna did not actually assume any taste a person wanted.  Rather, Chazal instructed us that this small, crude, daily portion of food had the capacity to satisfy Benei Yisrael’s appetites like the richest menu.  When Benei Yisrael were satisfied with their daily food ration, it tasted as sweet, as rich, and as gratifying as a ten-course gourmet meal.

            The sin of Kivrot Ha-ta’ava is one which has repeated itself very often throughout the ages, and certainly continues to repeat itself today.  It is the sin of discontentment, of rejecting the blessings that God has given us because we feel we need more.  We repeat Benei Yisrael’s mistake when we fail to taste the “flavor” of our material blessings and long for a fuller “menu.”  This tragic incident reminds us that we can, indeed, taste all “flavors” in whatever portion we are given, that we are able to feel satisfied and fortunate even through a small, daily ration of “manna.”  We must train ourselves to feel content with whatever we have been given, rather than constantly pining for more, and we will then indeed taste all the “flavors” in our limited material blessings, and experience true happiness and satisfaction.