S.A.L.T. – PARASHAT PINCHAS

By Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei Shabbat

            Parashat Pinchas begins with God’s announcement that He would reward Pinchas for his zealous act of killing Zimri and Kozbi, two public violators during the tragic episode of Ba’al Pe’or.  Rashi, citing the Gemara (Sanhedrin 82b), famously notes that in this proclamation God refers to Pinchas as “Pinchas, the son of Elazar, the son of Aharon Ha-kohen.”  God names Pinchas’ father and grandfather, despite the fact that he was already well-known, and the Torah in fact identified his lineage earlier, in the narrative of Ba’al Pe’or (25:7).  Rashi explains that God found it necessary to emphasize Pinchas’ relationship to Aharon in response to Benei Yisrael’s harsh condemnation of his act of zealotry.  They called him a “ben puti,” referring to his relationship to his maternal grandfather, Yitro, who “fattened” (“pitem”) cattle to prepare them as pagan sacrifices before embracing monotheism.  Pinchas’ zealotry was attributed to his pagan roots, rather than to sincere devotion to the Almighty, and God therefore emphasized that Pinchas was actually “the son of Elazar, the son of Aharon Ha-kohen.”

            Many writers explain Rashi’s comments on the basis of the Mishna’s famous exhortation in Pirkei Avot to emulate Aharon’s quality of “oheiv shalom ve-rodeif shalom” (“loving peace and pursuing peace”).  Upon evaluating Pinchas’ zealotry, the people came to the conclusion that he was the ideological heir of his maternal grandfather, rather than his paternal grandfather.  Pinchas, they charged, betrayed the treasured legacy of his beloved grandfather Aharon, who championed peaceful, harmonious relations among people, both pious and otherwise.  Aharon would not possibly condone Pinchas’ zealotry, they claimed, and this behavior was thus a reflection of his maternal pagan roots, and a betrayal of the peaceful heritage of Aharon Ha-kohen.  God therefore announced that to the contrary, Pinchas acted as “the son of Elazar, the son of Aharon Ha-kohen,” that there was no contradiction at all between Pinchas’ act of zealotry and the virtue of peaceful, loving relations championed by Aharon.

            Needless to say, as many scholars have noted and emphasized throughout the centuries, the circumstances surrounding Pinchas’ act were extraordinary, and the halakhic license for what he did is especially limited in scope and, as a practical matter, all but irrelevant in our day and age.  Nevertheless, God’s message to the people in the aftermath of Ba’al Pe’or bears importance and relevance even for the moderate, acceptable form of “zealotry” – taking an unpopular stance in defense of authentic Torah tradition.  Those who firmly uphold authentic Torah ideals in opposition to contemporary fads and mores are often condemned for undermining peace and unity among Am Yisrael.  The value of “loving peace and pursuing peace,” it is often claimed, demands the silent acceptance of deviant ideas and values, and allowing distortions of Torah tradition to go uncontested.  God’s announcement in Parashat Pinchas teaches that Pinchas’ zealotry is consistent with Aharon’s passionate commitment to peace among all members of Am Yisrael.  We must preserve and perpetuate authentic Torah tradition even at the expense of upsetting its detractors.  As committed as we must be to the inspiring and timeless legacy of Aharon, to maintaining peaceful, congenial relations among all segments of our nation, we must also commit ourselves to the preservation of Torah, even against popular trends.

Sunday

            The Torah in Parashat Pinchas describes the musaf sacrifices that were offered on special occasions – Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh, and Yamim Tovim.  After outlining the components of each sacrifices, the Torah adds that these are required “milevad olat ha-tamid” – in addition to the daily tamid offering, and not in place of it.  After concluding its description of the musaf offering for Rosh Hashana, the Torah writes that these sacrifices are offered “milevad olat ha-chodesh…ve-olat ha-tamid” – in addition to the monthly Rosh Chodesh offering and the daily tamid offering (29:6).  The festival of Rosh Hashana occurs on the first of Tishrei, and it therefore requires the standard monthly Rosh Chodesh offering, in addition to the daily tamid sacrifice and the special sacrifice for Rosh Hashana.

            Tosefot in Masekhet Rosh Hashana (8b) and elsewhere cite a theory proposed by Rabbenu Meshulam claiming that only part of the Rosh Chodesh musaf sacrifice was offered on Rosh Hashana.  The aforementioned verse in Parashat Pinchas says that the Rosh Hashana musaf sacrifice is brought “in addition to the ola of the [new] month and its meal offering, and the daily ola and its meal offering, and their libations…”  The Torah here mentions the ola of the Rosh Chodesh offering (which consisted of two bulls, one ram, and seven sheep – 28:11) and the meal offering, but not the third component of the Rosh Chodesh offering – the goat brought for atonement (28:15).  Rabbenu Meshulam thus suggested that the atonement goat generally offered on Rosh Chodesh was not included in the Rosh Chodesh offering on Rosh Hashana.  With this theory, Rabbenu Meshulam offered a novel explanation for the Gemara’s famous description of Rosh Hashana as “the holiday on which the month is concealed” (Rosh Hashana 8b).  This might refer to the fact that on Rosh Hashana, “the month” – the occasion of Rosh Chodesh – is partially “concealed” in the sense that only part of the regular musaf offering is brought.

            Tosefot proceed to record an exchange between Rabbenu Tam and Rabbenu Meshulam on this subject.  Rabbenu Tam objected to this theory, noting that the Tosefta in the beginning of Masekhet Shevuot lists the thirty-two national goat sin-offerings that were offered annually.  The Tosefta explicitly includes in this list twelve Rosh Chodesh sin-offerings, one for each month, clearly indicating that a goat sin-offering was brought on the first of each of the twelve months – including Rosh Hashana.  Rabbenu Meshulam replied to Rabbenu Tam by clarifying that he did not mean that the Rosh Chodesh sin-offering was not brought on Rosh Hashana.  Rather, he meant that this sacrifice is “concealed” from the Torah, which mentions only the ola of the Rosh Chodesh offering, and not the chatat.

            The Turei Even comments that we may uphold the original version of Rabbenu Meshulam’s theory – that the Rosh Chodesh sin-offering was not brought on Rosh Hashana – in light of a debate among the Tanna’im concerning this sacrifice.  The first Mishna of Masekhet Shevuot records different views regarding the specific purpose of the Rosh Chodesh sin-offering.  According to Rabbi Yehuda, this sin-offering, like the sin-offerings included in the musaf sacrifice on the festivals, atoned for people who entered the Mikdash or partook of sacrificial foods in an unknown state of tum’a.  Rabbi Shimon, however, disagreed, and distinguished between the sin-offering of Rosh Chodesh and the sin-offering brought on the festivals.  In his view, the Rosh Chodesh sin-offering served to atone for those who mistakenly ate sacrificial food that was ritually impure.  Whereas the sin-offering on the festivals atoned for those who were in a state of impurity, unbeknownst to them, and entered the Mikdash or ate sacrifices, the Rosh Chodesh sin-offering atoned for people who were in a state of purity who partook of impure sacrificial food.

            It thus emerges that the Tanna’im debate the question of whether or not the Rosh Chodesh sin-offering served the same function as the sin-offering on the festivals.  The Turei Even suggested that the Tosefta in Shevuot, which clearly stated that the Rosh Chodesh sin-offering was brought on Rosh Hashana, followed the view that this offering served a different purpose than the festival sin-offering.  For this reason, the Tosefta requires bringing both sin-offerings on Rosh Hashana, as they serve different functions.  According to Rabbi Yehuda, however, the two sacrifices serve the same purpose, and it is thus likely that only one is brought on Rosh Hashana, as it would be superfluous to offer both.  This might be the view taken by the Gemara when it speaks of Rosh Hashana as a day when Rosh Chodesh is “concealed.”

            The practical application of this discussion is the text of the musaf prayer on Rosh Hashana.  Our practice, following the view of Rabbenu Tam, is to recite in the “u-minchatam ve-niskeihem” section of the musaf prayer service the phrase, “u-shnei se’irim le-khaper” (“two goats for atonement”), rather than the usual “ve-sa’ir le-khaper” (“and a goat for atonement”).  Since two goat sin-offerings were offered on Rosh Hashana – according to the accepted view, that of Rabbenu Tam – we make mention of two offerings, rather than one.

Monday

            We read in Parashat Pinchas of the musaf sacrifices that were offered on Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh, Pesach, Shavuot, Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret.

            Tosefot in Masekhet Arakhin (18b) raise an interesting question (citing Rav Shemuel bar Rav Elchanan) concerning the Rosh Hashana musaf sacrifice.  Whenever the Torah prescribes the offering of a sheep, it requires that the sheep be “ben shana” – within its first year of life.  The Gemara there in Arakhin infers from a verse in Sefer Vayikra that a “year” is defined in this regard based on the sheep’s date of birth, as opposed to the formal calendar year.  Meaning, if a sheep was born on the ninth of Tammuz, it is considered to be within its first year and thus suitable as an offering until that date the following year.  If not for this textual inference, one might have entertained the possibility of considering the sheep already in its second year after its first Rosh Hashana, when the new year begins, regardless of when the sheep was born.  The Gemara therefore derives from a verse that the sheep’s first year is defined based on the passage of time since its birth, and not the beginning of a new calendar year.

            Tosefot raise the question of why this inference is necessary.  The Torah here in Parashat Pinchas explicitly requires offering “kevasim benei shana” – sheep within their first year – on the holiday of Rosh Hashana, the first day of the year.  This command, Tosefot note, should suffice as evidence that a sheep’s first year for the purposes of this halakha extends until its first birthday.  If the sheep’s second year begins on Rosh Hashana, then there would be no possibility of offering sheep for the Rosh Hashana sacrifices.  If a sheep was born before Rosh Hashana, then it would be considered “two years old” with the onset of Rosh Hashana.  And if it is born on Rosh Hashana, it may not be offered as a sacrifice, because animals become suitable as sacrifices only after their first week of life (Vayikra 22:27).  Thus, the very fact that the Torah requires offering “kevasim benei shana” on Rosh Hashana proves that the age of “one year” extends until a sheep’s first birthday, and not until Rosh Hashana.  Why, then, did the Gemara infer this halakha from a different verse?

            Tosefot cite those who suggest that if not for the inference from a verse in Vayikra, one might have thought that on Rosh Hashana we offer sheep born exactly one week earlier.  Even if the sheep’s second year is considered to begin on Rosh Hashana, this theory contends, we consider its “date of birth” the day it becomes eligible for a sacrifice, not the day it is born.  Thus, if the sheep’s eighth day falls on Rosh Hashana, it is considered to have just begun its first year that day, and since it is already eight days old, it is suitable as a sacrifice.  As such, the requirement offer “year old sheep” on Rosh Hashana does not necessarily prove that we define years based on the sheep’s actual age, rather than the calendar year.  This answer also appears in the commentary of Chizkuni in Parashat Pinchas (29:2). Tosefot, however, reject this answer, and argue that the calculation of a sheep’s age is determined based on its birth, not the day it becomes eligible for sacrificing.

To answer their question, Tosefot claim that the inference from the verse in Vayikra is necessary to instruct that we determine a sheep’s age with respect to sacrifices “mei-eit le-eit” – according to the time of birth, and not just the date.  Meaning, Tosefot concede that the requirement to offer “kevasim benei shana” on Rosh Hashana suffices to prove that we calculate the sheep’s age based on the birthday, as opposed to the calendar year.  But the inference from Vayikra indicates that a sheep is considered to be within its first year until the time of its birth on its first birthday, and its second year does not begin immediately with the onset of its first birthday.  It should be noted that Tosefot’s assumption in this answer is not universally accepted.  Later in Masekhet Arakhin (31a), Tosefot record two views as to whether we determine a sheep’s age with respect to sacrifices based on the calculation of “mei-eit le-eit,” or based on the arrival of the date of birth.

            The Moshav Zekeinim (Shemot 12:5) offers a different answer to this question.  The Gemara in Masekhet Rosh Hashana (10a) records a debate among the Tanna’im regarding the possibility of counting a single day as a full year.  The context of the debate is the question of when precisely a bull may be considered a “par” with respect to sacrifices.  Both views agree that the term “par” refers to a three-year-old calf, but according to Rabbi Meir, a calf is considered to have reached the age once it has lived for two years and a day.  The extra day, in Rabbi Meir’s view, suffices to count as a year of the calf’s life, such that it may be considered a “par.”  Rabbi Elazar, by contrast, held that a calf is not considered three years old until two years and thirty days have passed since its birth.  In his view, we cannot consider a period of less than thirty days as a halakhic “year.”  The Moshav Zekeinim thus suggests that the Gemara’s inference in Masekhet Arakhin is necessary according to Rabbi Elazar’s view.  Since a period of less than thirty days cannot qualify as a year, a sheep born during Elul would still be considered in its first year after Rosh Hashana, even if its age is determined based on the calendar year. According to Rabbi Elazar, then, the requirement to offer “kevasim benei shana” on Rosh Hashana does not necessarily prove that the sheep’s age with respect to sacrifices is determined based on the passage of time after birth, as opposed to the calendar year.

Tuesday

            Rashi, in his opening comments to Parashat Pinchas, cites the Gemara’s famous description of Benei Yisrael’s critical reaction to Pinchas’ act of zealotry during the incident of Ba’al Pe’or: “Because the tribes were ridiculing him, [saying,] ‘Did you see the son of this ‘Puti,’ whose maternal grandfather fattened calves for idolatry, and now killed the prince of a tribe of Israel!’  The verse therefore came along and traced his lineage to Aharon.”

            The people were hardly inspired or even impressed by Pinchas’ zealotry.  They responded with harsh and cynical condemnation, accusing him of senselessly murdering a leading national figure.  Additionally, according to the Gemara’s depiction, the people noted Pinchas’ problematic pedigree, as his mother was a daughter of Yitro, a former pagan priest.  Essentially, the people were questioning Pinchas’ religious sincerity.  They cynically mocked, “Look who is so religious all of a sudden!  He comes from idol-worshippers, and now he assumes the license to kill to defend God’s honor!”

            It would appear that Chazal seek to alert us to the common manifestations of this kind of cynicism in situations of more moderate “zealotry.”  Encounters with religious fervor and zeal make us feel uneasy.  When we see people following especially strict standards of halakhic precision, spending unusually long amounts of time on prayer, going out of their way for other people in exceptional fashion, or generally exhibiting intense religious passion, we feel insecure.  Religious zeal and passion pose a challenge – often subliminally – to our mediocrities and the compromises that we make in our own religious lives.   This challenge can make us very uncomfortable.  And, like Benei Yisrael at the time of Ba’al Pe’or, we seek to alleviate this discomfort by questioning the sincerity and authenticity of the zeal we are witnessing.  “So, look who’s so religious all of a sudden!”  “It’s all a show.”  “He/she is faking it.”  “It’s just a passing phase; it won’t last.”  “Look at this shtick!”  Just as Benei Yisrael strained their imaginations to find a basis for questioning the authenticity of Pinchas’ passion – “Did you see the son of this ‘Puti,’ whose maternal grandfather fattened calves for idolatry, and now killed the prince of a tribe of Israel!” – similarly, we have a way of dismissing or at least doubting the sincerity of the religious fervor we witness.  Instead of humbly respecting and admiring greatness, or the sincere pursuit of greatness, and taking example from the passion and zeal exhibited by the people around us, we cynically dismiss it as superficial and fake.

            The Gemara’s account perhaps teaches us to embrace, rather than escape, the feelings of uneasiness we experience when we witness religious fervor.  These feelings, discomfiting as they are, provide us with an opportunity for growth.  If we allow them to, they can serve as a powerful catalyst of positive change and progress.  Just as the Sages expressed a favorable view of scholarly competition as a motivator for achievement (“Kin’at soferim tarbeh chokhma”), feeling challenged by the fervor and zeal of the people around us can similarly serve as an effective and valuable motivator for increased commitment and devotion to Torah and mitzvot.

(See Rav Ozer Glickman’s “Lost in Translation: On Being a Zealot” at http://www.yutorah.org/lectures/lecture.cfm/718845/Rabbi_Ozer_Glickman/Lost_in_Translation:_On_Being_a_Zealot)

Wednesday

            The Torah in Parashat Pinchas tells of the census taken of Benei Yisrael as they encamped near the Jordan River, shortly before their entry into Eretz Yisrael.  In listing the families of the tribe of Reuven, the Torah briefly digresses onto a discussion of the family of Palu, which produced Datan and Aviram, two of the chief villains in the story of Korach’s revolt.  This digression concludes with the seemingly parenthetical remark that Korach’s children did not die along with their father and the participants in this ill-fated campaign against Moshe.

            The Pesikta Zutreta comments on these verses, “Because it wanted to tell about Korach’s children, that they did not die with Korach’s group, it came along and told about the children of Eliav [Datan and Aviram].”  It seems that according to the Pesikta Zutreta, the Torah’s intent was to inform us of the survival of Korach’s children, and it digressed onto the family of Datan and Aviram in order to draw this contrast between the fate of these villains and their cohorts, and that of Korach’s children.

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, explains the significance of this contrast, and why, according to the Midrash, the Torah saw fit to emphasize the downfall of Datan and Aviram in contrast to the survival of Korach’s children.  Ironically, Datan and Aviram, who were not part of Korach’s family or even his tribe, joined his campaign and shared in his downfall, whereas Korach’s own children were spared.  Datan and Aviram made the conscious decision to join the effort to oppose Moshe, while Korach’s children were wise enough to withdraw from their father’s campaign.

Chazal thus draw our attention to the fact that we are able to independently chart our paths in life regardless of our background and upbringing.  Unquestionably, our upbringing has a profound effect on our development and the choices we ultimately make as adults.  But Chazal saw in the story of Korach an indication that the effects of upbringing only go so far.  At a certain point, people independently choose to become who they are.  Korach’s own sons were righteous, while members of Reuven, an entirely different tribe, shared the fate of Korach.  Regardless of where we come from, it is we who choose to either become like Korach’s sons or become like Datan and Aviram.  Our path and direction in life is mainly the product of our own willed decisions, and not of those who raised and educated us.  As profoundly influential as they may be, ultimately, the decision of whether to follow that influence or chart a different course is ours, and we therefore bear full accountability for who we are and what we do.

Thursday

            The Torah in Parashat Pinchas describes the musaf sacrifices that were offered on various occasions.  The musaf sacrifice on Rosh Chodesh and the festivals included a goat offered as a chatat (sin offering), but, as the Gemara notes in Masekhet Chulin (60b), there was something unique about the Rosh Chodesh sin-offering.  The Torah describes this offering as being brought “to the Lord” (“le-Hashem” – 28:15), a term that does not appear in reference to the sin-offering brought as part of the other musaf offerings.  The Gemara famously explains that the sin-offering on Rosh Chodesh serves to atone “for God,” so-to-speak, for His having diminished the size of the moon.  Originally, the Gemara relates, the sun and the moon were the same size, but the moon protested, arguing, “Is it possible for two kings to use a single crown?”  God responded by making the moon smaller, and we “atone,” as it were, for what God did to the moon by bringing a sin-offering on Rosh Chodesh, when the moon is at its smallest point.

            What message might Chazal have sought to convey through this story of the moon’s objection and the consequences it suffered as a result?  Often, when Chazal anthropomorphize animals, inanimate objects and celestial beings, their intent is to depict common phenomena in human relations.  To which phenomenon or tendency does the Gemara here seek to draw our attention?

            It would seem that the Gemara teaches, quite simply, that sometimes by trying to improve a situation we end up making it worse.  The moon made a reasonable point; it raised a valid question about the status quo.  But this was a problem that would have been best left alone.  The moon should have accepted the situation as it was, rather than pointing out and protesting against its shortcomings.  Sometimes, when we try to make a situation perfect, we end up making it worse.

            One of the many challenges in life is knowing which problems to try and solve, and which to leave alone; when to struggle for change, and when to leave the status quo as is, despite its imperfections.  Certainly, we are entitled and encouraged to work toward making our lives – both personally and collectively – better.  Without question, we must strive to make the world a better place for ourselves and for people generally.  But the story of the moon perhaps reminds us that some problems should be left alone.  When we try to get too fine, when we try to make acceptable situations perfect situations, we can make things worse for ourselves.  It requires common sense and judgment to determine which problems warrant hard work and effort to correct, and which should be left alone.  According to the Gemara’s account, the moon made the mistake of making an issue out of a flaw that did not warrant a fuss.  The point was correct, but not every imperfection deserves a protest.  As much as we want to improve our lives and the world, we must use our judgment and common sense to determine which problems we should struggle to resolve, and which should be left alone.

Friday

            The Torah in Parashat Pinchas tells of the census taken of Benei Yisrael in Arvot Moav, listing all the major families of every tribe and the total population of each tribe.  The purpose of the census was to prepare for the distribution of the territory of Eretz Yisrael among the different families, as the Torah clearly writes immediately following the census: “According to these [families] shall the land be divided…” (26:53).

            Curiously, the Torah briefly interrupts the census on two occasions to digress onto a seemingly unrelated incident.  In its listing of the families of Reuven, the Torah digresses to make mention of Datan and Aviram, members of the Reuvenite tribe who were leading figures in Korach’s revolt against Moshe’s authority, for which they were killed (26:9-10).  Later, in the listing of the families of Menashe, the Torah interrupts to note that Tzlofchad, a member of the illustrious Gilad family, did not have any sons, and it then proceeds to list the names of his five daughters.

            Interestingly enough, later in the parasha we find an explicit association between these two subjects – Korach’s ill-fated revolt, and Tzlofchad’s daughters.  The Torah relates that Tzlofchad’s five daughters approached Moshe to request that they be given the portion of Eretz Yisrael that would have gone to their father had he still been alive.  In submitting their request, they emphasized that their father had not been a participant of Korach’s revolt (“ve-hu lo haya be-tokh ha-eida ha-no’adim al Hashem ba-adat Korach” – 27:3).  How might we explain the significance of this association?

            As mentioned, the census was taken as part of the nation’s preparations for apportioning Eretz Yisrael, which was done according to the major families.  It seems that the families of Datan, Aviram and Tzlofchad were to have received a portion of Eretz Yisrael, but all three died without heirs.  Datan and Aviram’s entire households died along with them after their revolt against Moshe (16:32-33), and Tzlofchad had no sons, and thus left no one to inherit what was to have been his family holding in Eretz Yisrael.  Therefore, as the Torah listed the families among whom the land would be distributed, it noted the families that were to have received portions, but lost them due to certain circumstances.  Tzlofchad’s daughters then approached Moshe and pointed out the difference between the two situations.  Their father was not part of Korach’s group, and his family should not be denied a share in Eretz Yisrael as the families of Datan and Aviram were.  Although he, like Datan and Aviram, died without inheritors, he did not deserve to lose his share as they had.

            There is also a more specific point of contrast between Tzlofchad’s daughters and Korach’s group.  Chazal, in several places (see, for example, Rashi to 27:1, citing from the Sifrei), view Tzlofchad’s daughters’ petition as a reflection of their special love for Eretz Yisrael.  They appealed for a portion of the land not out of material lust or self-aggrandizement, but rather out of sincere sense of connection with the Land of Israel.  From this perspective, they indeed represent the polar opposite of Datan and Aviram.  In voicing their protest against the leadership of Moshe and Aharon, Datan and Aviram cynically jeered, “Is not enough that you brought us from a land flowing with milk and honey to kill us in the wilderness…” (16:13).  They enlisted the classic description of Eretz Yisrael – “a land flowing with milk and honey” – to describe Egypt.  They viewed Egypt, not Eretz Yisrael, as the nation’s homeland and the land of their destiny.  This, too, may have been Tzlofchad’s daughters’ intent when they distinguished between their father and Korach’s revolt.  Unlike Datan and Aviram, they contended, Tzlofchad loved Eretz Yisrael and looked to it as the nation’s future and destiny.  And for this reason, he was deserving of a family portion in the land, even if he had no sons.  He should not be grouped together with Datan and Aviram, because while they rejected Eretz Yisrael as our nation’s destined homeland, he was genuinely committed to the land and transmitted this love and affection to his five daughters.

(Based on an article by Rav Amnon Bazak)