S.A.L.T. – PARASHAT BESHALACH

By Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei Shabbat

            Toward the beginning of Parashat Beshalach (13:19), the Torah tells that Moshe took Yosef’s remains with him as he and Benei Yisrael left Egypt, in fulfillment of the promise that Yosef’s brothers made to bring his remains for burial in Eretz Yisrael.

            The Mekhilta, in a famous passage, views Moshe’s sense of duty in this regard as exemplifying King Shelomo’s observation in Sefer Mishlei (10:8), “Chakham leiv yikakh mitzvot” – “The wise-hearted take mitzvot.”  Moshe’s concern for the remains of Yosef at this time demonstrated, in the Mekhilta’s words, his “wisdom and piety,” as “all Israel were involved in the spoils [of Egypt], while Moshe was involved in the mitzva of the remains of Yosef.”

            Many writers and darshanim raised the question of how Moshe here demonstrated his “wisdom.”  While we recognize how his preference for transporting Yosef’s remains over collecting the spoils of Egypt reveals his “piety,” his selfless devotion to mitzvot and willingness to sacrifice material wealth for the purpose of mitzva performance, it seems difficult to understand how this incident demonstrates Moshe’s “wisdom.”

            Rav Shimon Schwab suggested that Moshe here exhibited his wisdom not by choosing to involve himself in a mitzva instead of amassing wealth, but rather in choosing which mitzva to perform.  As the Gemara famously discusses in Masekhet Berakhot (9a), God had commanded Benei Yisrael to collect the possessions of the Egyptians before leaving, and afforded great importance to this aspect of the Exodus.  This, too, was an important mitzva that the people were obliged to fulfill as they made their preparations to leave Egypt.  Moshe, however, decided to involve himself instead in the mitzva of transporting Yosef’s remains.  There could be several reasons for why Moshe afforded preference to this mitzva over the mitzva of collecting spoils.  One obvious possibility is his assumption that all Benei Yisrael would rush to collect the Egyptian spoils, but few, if any, would remember to bring Yosef’s coffin.  Alternatively, as Seforno comments, transporting Yosef’s remains was a responsibility cast specifically on Moshe due to his stature as the nation’s leader.

            Regardless, it takes a certain degree of “wisdom” to choose which mitzva to perform.  Prioritizing mitzva observance over material indulgence is emotionally challenging, but the intellectual decision is clear.  The more complex decisions in life involve a clash or conflict between two or more ideals, when one must choose or prioritize one value or worthwhile endeavor over another.  The Mekhilta alerts us to the fact that such decisions require “wisdom,” and must not be made flippantly or impulsively.  They must be made only after careful thought and consideration, to ensure that we properly prioritize not only when the choices are clear, but even when they involve several worthwhile endeavors that call for our attention.

Sunday

            Yesterday we noted the verse in Parashat Beshalach (13:19) that tells of Moshe bringing Yosef’s remains out of Egypt at the time of the Exodus.  Rashi, in his commentary to Parashat Ki-Tisa (32:4) and to Masekhet Sanhedrin (103b), cites a tradition that Moshe had to invoke supernatural forces in order to retrieve Yosef’s coffin.  The coffin (according to one view in Masekhet Sota 13a) was submerged in the Nile River.  Moshe retrieved the coffin by casting into the river a strip of material upon which he had written one of the Names of God.  The coffin then miraculously rose to the surface, enabling Moshe to retrieve it.

            This account gives rise to the interesting question of the permissibility of throwing or placing sacred writ in water, which would, in all likelihood, erase the writing.  Given the prohibition against erasing the divine Name, is it permissible to place material bearing God’s Name in water, which would cause the Name to be erased?

            Indeed, the Gemara in Masekhet Sukka (53a) relates an incident involving King David, when a flood threatened to destroy the earth until it was stopped when the divine Name was written on a piece of earthenware which was then thrown into the water.  It emerges from the Gemara’s description of the events that causing the erasure of God’s Name was allowed under the extenuating circumstances at that time, when the very existence of the earth was threatened.  Ordinarily, it would seem, and perhaps even for important purposes, causing the erasure of God’s Name would be forbidden.

            Another possible indication that it is forbidden to cause the erasure of God’s Name is the Gemara’s ruling in Masekhet Megila (26b) concerning a sefer Torah that has worn and is no longer usable.  The Gemara writes that the scroll should be buried, adding that it must first be placed inside an earthenware utensil so it would be preserved.  This might imply that it is forbidden to place a Torah scroll directly in the ground, as this would cause the divine Names in the scroll to be erased as a result of the scroll’s natural decay.

            On the other hand, the Gemara in Masekhet Shabbat (120b) explicitly rules that a person who has the Name of God written upon his skin is nevertheless allowed to immerse in a mikveh, even though this would cause the Name to be erased.  The Gemara establishes that the prohibition of mechikat Hashem (erasing the divine Name) does not apply to indirectly causing the Name to be erased.  Although one may not actually erase the Name of God, it is permissible to do something that indirectly results in the erasure of God’s Name.

            In light of these seemingly conflicting sources, the Noda Bi-yehuda’s son, in an essay published in the Noda Bi-yehuda (Tanina, O.C. 17), claimed that this issue is subject to a debate among the Talmudic Sages.  In his view, the different sources represent different views that exist as to whether one may indirectly cause the erasure of the divine Name.  The Noda Bi-yehuda’s son observed that the Shulchan Arukh does not codify the halakha allowing immersion with the divine Name written on one’s skin, but does codify the Gemara’s ruling requiring an earthenware utensil when burying a Sefer Torah.  He thus concludes that the Shulchan Arukh follows the view that even indirectly causing the erasure of God’s Name is forbidden.

            According to this view, it would seem, we must explain that Moshe was allowed to the throw God’s Name into the river to retrieve Yosef’s coffin because this occurred before Matan Torah, and the prohibition of mechikat Hashem did not yet apply.  Moreover, Rashi writes (in his commentary to Parashat Ki-Tisa) that the material upon which Moshe wrote the divine Name and which he threw into the Nile was still extant and intact at the time of the sin of the golden calf, and it was in fact used to create the calf.  Clearly, then, the Name was engraved upon the material in such a fashion that it was not erased by the water, and thus there was certainly no prohibition involved whatsoever.

            In any event, several authorities, including the Chatam Sofer (O.C. 32; Y.D. 263, 266), disagree with the Noda Bi-yehuda’s son’s conclusion, and maintain that it is permissible to indirectly cause the erasure of the divine Name.  (See Sedei Chemed, vol. 4, Ma’arekhet Mem, 11.)

(Taken from Rav Chaim Leib Eisenstein’s Peninim Mi-bei Midresha, Jerusalem, 5766)

Monday

            In response to the miracle of the splitting of the Sea of Reeds, Benei Yisrael sing the famous “Shirat Ha-yam,” giving praise to the Almighty for the miracle they had just experienced.  Toward the beginning of the shira, Benei Yisrael make the famous proclamation, “Zeh Keli ve-anveihu” (15:2), which is generally translated as, “This is my God, and I shall glorify Him!”  Chazal offer several different interpretations to this phrase, but perhaps the best-known reading is the one which appears in Masekhet Shabbat (133) and elsewhere, associating this verse with the halakhic imperative of “hiddur mitzva.”  Benei Yisrael’s pledge to “glorify” God means that they would aesthetically enhance their performance of mitzvot.  The Gemara points to this verse as the source for the obligation to write beautiful Sifrei Torah, wear a beautiful tallit, adorn one’s sukka, and so son.

            We might suggest associating this inference from the verse with another famous comment of Chazal regarding this verse.  As Rashi cites from the Midrash (Shir Ha-shirim Rabba 3:15), the word “zeh” (“this”) indicates a visible manifestation.  Benei Yisrael all beheld a prophetic vision of sorts at the time of the splitting of the sea, and were thus able – in the Midrash’s words – to “point with their finger” and proclaim, “This is my God.”  The word “this” implies that they actually beheld a vision of God, to whatever extent this is possible, and this enabled them to proclaim, “Zeh Keli.”

            The Midrash’s comment perhaps reflects the “personal” character of keri’at Yam Suf.  It affected the people not only ideologically and intellectually (“they believed in the Lord and in His servant, Moshe” – 14:31), but also emotionally, in terms of their sense of developing a relationship with God.  They beheld the divine presence with their own eyes, as it were, and this engendered within them a special feeling of closeness and identification with God.  And herein, perhaps, lies the connection between this prophetic experience and the concept of hiddur mitzva.  The difference between minimal and enhanced performance of mitzvot corresponds to the difference between obeying a dry code of law, and serving one’s Creator.  If our observance of mitzvot focuses exclusively on halakhic technicalities, without being also cognizant of the larger goal of serving the Almighty, then we are less likely to inject within our religious observance the energy, fervor and passion reflected by “hiddur.”  If the only goal we set before us is satisfying legal requirements, we might not be inspired to extend beyond those requirements and add a dimension of majesty and beauty that is befitting the sacred endeavor of serving the King of kings.  It is only when we can “point with our finger,” when we – to whatever extent we can – see God before us, and are aware that our observance of mitzvot constitutes our service to God, that we will be driven to achieve the higher standard of “hiddur mitzva,” bringing into our religious observance the required combination of strict obedience to halakhic minutiae and the grandeur and majesty that the mitzvot deserve.

Tuesday

            We read in Parashat Beshalach of the manna which fell from the heavens each morning to feed Benei Yisrael during their sojourn through the wilderness.  The Torah relates that a double portion of manna fell each week on Friday, and although the manna generally spoiled after the day it arrived, the extra portion that fell on Friday remained fresh for Shabbat.  On the first Shabbat after the manna began falling, when the people saw that the extra portion was still fresh, Moshe said to them, “Eat it today, for today is Shabbat for the Lord; today you will not find it in the field” (16:25).

            The Gemara in Masekhet Shabbat (117b; see also Mekhilta to this verse) points to this verse as the source for the obligation to eat three meals on Shabbat.  Moshe mentions the word “hayom” (“today”) three times in this verse, alluding to the fact that one must eat three meals over the course of Shabbat.  The Gemara cites the minority opinion of Rabbi Chidka, who maintained that the three meals alluded to by the word “hayom” must all be held during the daytime of Shabbat – in addition to the nighttime meal.  According to Rabbi Chidka, then, one must eat four meals over the course of Shabbat.  Halakha, however, follows the majority view, that the three meals alluded to in the verse are the only meals that one must eat during Shabbat.

            There is some discussion among the halakhic authorities as to whether the requirement to eat three meals on Shabbat indeed constitutes an actual Biblical obligation.  A number of sources indicate that the obligation was actually enacted by Chazal, who cited this verse as merely an asmakhta (an allusion in the Torah to a law enacted by the Sages), whereas others maintain that this requirement was in fact introduced by the Torah itself.  The Sefer Yerei’im (92), in describing this mitzva, writes, “Our Creator commanded us in Parashat Vayehi Beshalach that the Israelites should eat three meals on Shabbat, as it says, ‘Eat it today…’”  These comments certainly suggest that the three Shabbat meals constitute an outright Biblical obligation.

            This also appears to be the view of the Shibolei Ha-leket (Shabbat, 97), who raises the question of whether women are included in the obligation of the three Shabbat meals.  He writes that the obligation applies equally to men and women, because Moshe’s instructions to Benei Yisrael concerning the manna, from which Chazal inferred this mitzva, were directed to the entire nation, including both men and women.  If the Gemara’s inference was merely an asmakhta, an allusion in the Biblical text, it is unlikely that the details of this obligation could be established by examining the context of this source.  The fact that the Shibolei Ha-leket saw significance in the context as a basis for the inclusion of women in this mitzva certainly suggests that he viewed this inference as establishing a bona fide Torah source for the obligation of the three Shabbat meals.

            Another source that reflects this view is a responsum of Rabbenu Yaakov of Marvege, in his Shu”t Min Ha-shamayim (the work in which he records the responses to his halakhic queries that were revealed to him in dreams).  In siman 14, Rabbenu Yaakov addresses the question of whether one fulfills this obligation by breaking up a single daytime meal into two meals.  It was apparently common for people to recite birkat ha-mazon in the middle of the Shabbat meal, and then recite the berakha of ha-motzi again over bread, so that their meal would count as the two daytime meals.  The answer Rabbenu Yaakov received in a nocturnal vision is that one does not fulfill the obligation in this fashion: “We learn this matter from the Torah of Moshe Rabbenu a”h: ‘Moshe said: Eat it today, for today is Shabbat for the Lord, today…’  Just as the days are separate from one another, similarly, the times for the three meals must be separate from one another.”  Clearly, this response indicates that the obligation of three meals is explicated in the Torah, and, moreover, there is halakhic significance to the word “hayom” with regard to the proper manner for fulfilling this obligation.  Since this mitzva is derived from this word, the meals must be held at separate periods during the day, just as the days as separate from one another.

            The Taz (end of O.C, 678), too, writes explicitly that the requirement of eating three meals on Shabbat constitutes a Biblical obligation.

            A different position emerges from the Orchot Chayim (Hilkhot Shabbat), who also addresses the issue of women’s inclusion in this obligation.  Like the Shibolei Ha-leket, the Orchot Chayim rules that the mitzva of the three Shabbat meals applies equally to men and women, but for an entirely different reason – namely, because this obligation was enacted by Chazal.  The Orchot Chayim claims that every mitzvat asei de-Rabbanan (“affirmative command” enacted by the Sages) applies to both and women, and therefore the requirement of the three Shabbat meals is incumbent upon women just like men.  This rationale is also advanced by Rabbenu Tam, in his Sefer Ha-yashar (as his second explanation).

            The Rambam, in Hilkhot Shabbat (chapter 30), appears to take a third position.  In discussing the obligation of the three Shabbat meals, the Rambam does not cite the verse from Parashat Beshalach as the source of this requirement.  Rather, he introduces this obligation (in halakha 9) amid his discussion of the mitzva of oneg Shabbat (personal enjoyment on Shabbat), which, as he writes in the beginning of that chapter, originates from the prophets (specifically, Yeshayahu).  It appears that, in the Rambam’s view, the inference from the verse in Parashat Beshalach was intended as merely an asmakhta, and in truth the obligation to eat three meals is included under the general mitzva of oneg Shabbat.  Thus, according to the Rambam, this mitzva is neither from the Torah nor from the Sages, as it is part of the mitzva of oneg Shabbat decreed by the prophets.

WEDNESDAY

            The Torah in Parashat Beshalach devotes a lengthy section to the manna, the miraculous food with which God sustained Benei Yisrael during their sojourn through the wilderness.  Among the unique features of the manna was that a double portion fell on Friday, to provide food for that day and for Shabbat, when no manna fell.  Although leftover manna generally spoiled by the next morning, the extra portion that arrived on Friday remained fresh until Shabbat.

            The Tosefta in Masekhet Rosh Hashanah (1:10) makes mention of the manna in the context of the institution of kiddush ha-chodesh – the court’s declaration of the new month.  In ancient times, the length of a month was determined based upon witnesses’ testimony of the appearance of the new moon.  If the new moon was seen on the thirtieth of the month, then that day was declared Rosh Chodesh – the first day of the new month – and the previous month was thus twenty-nine days long.  If the witnesses viewed the new moon only on the thirty-first day, then the month would be thirty days long, as the new month would begin only on the thirty-first day.  The Tosefta, in an ambiguous comment, noted how this process affected the manna: “You find regarding the omer of manna, that if it [the new month] arrived at its time [on the thirtieth day], then it [the manna] was immediately finished, but if not, then it would remain for three days.”  Somehow, the court’s decision of when the new month should begin determined whether the manna would immediately be “finished,” or whether it would last for three days.  What exactly does the Tosefta mean?

            Rav Menachem Kasher (Torah Sheleima, vol. 13, p. 45) explains the Tosefta’s comment as referring to a situation when the 30^th of Elul fell on Thursday.  Since this day may turn out to be the first day of Tishrei, which is the festival of Rosh Hashanah, Benei Yisrael would receive an extra portion of manna on Wednesday and leave it over for Thursday.  The Mekhilta (to 16:26) writes that the manna did not fall on Yom Tov, just as it did not fall on Shabbat, and therefore Benei Yisrael received an extra portion on the 29^th of Elul, and manna did not fall on the 30^th of Elul, which might be determined to be Yom Tov.  If, indeed, that day is declared as Rosh Hashanah, then the manna in Benei Yisrael’s possession would be like ordinary manna, and it would spoil if it was left over until the following day, Friday.  However, if that day was not determined to be Rosh Hashanah, then the manna in Benei Yisrael’s possession would have to last them through Friday – which was Rosh Hashanah – and also through the next day, Shabbat.  In such a case, the manna which the people had left over until Thursday lasted them for three extra days (beyond Wednesday, the day on which it fell).  The Tosefta thus observed the remarkable power of the court, whose decision regarding the new month affected the “shelf life” of the manna that Benei Yisrael had collected.

In the next volume of Torah Sheleima (vol. 14, pp. 309-310), Rav Kasher noted how the Tosefta’s comments resolve a question raised by the Binyan Shelomo (19) regarding a situation where Yom Tov falls on Friday or Shabbat.  The Binyan Shelomo writes that he heard from his brother, Rav Betzalel Ha-kohen of Vilna, a question asked by the Noda Bi-yehuda as to why Halakha does not require using three loaves of bread in such a case.  The Gemara in Masekhet Shabbat (117b) establishes the requirement to use two loaves at the Shabbat meals in order to commemorate the double portion of manna that fell on Erev Shabbat in the wilderness.  The Noda Bi-yehuda claimed that when Yom Tov occurred on Friday in the wilderness, a triple portion of manna fell on Thursday, and if Yom Tov fell on Sunday, then a triple portion fell on Friday, to last through the Shabbat and Yom Tov.  Seemingly, then, we should be required to use three loaves in these cases, to commemorate the two extra portions.  Rav Kasher noted that from the Tosefta’s comments it emerges that even in these situations, only a double portion fell, and it miraculously sufficed for three extra days.  Therefore, Halakha requires only two loaves of bread, and not three, even when Yom Tov occurs just before or just after Shabbat.  (The Binyan Shelomo himself reaches this conclusion, though without citing the Tosefta.)

Thursday

            In one of the most famous verses in the Shirat Ha-yam song of praise which Benei Yisrael sung after the miracle of the sea, they declare, “Zeh Keli ve-anveihu Elokei avi va-aromemenhu” – “This is my God and I shall glorify Him; the God of my father, and I shall exalt him” (15:2).  Rashi, commenting on the words, “the God of my father,” writes (citing from the Mekhilta), “It is not I who is the beginning of sanctity; sanctity and His being God has already been established for me since the times of my forefathers.”

            Why did this point – “It is not I who is the beginning of sanctity” – need to be made here, after the salvation at the Sea of Reeds?

            Upon experiencing the unprecedented miracles of yetzi’at Mitzrayim, which culminated with the splitting of the sea, Benei Yisrael may have felt inclined to see themselves as creating a “new beginning,” as the start of something entirely new and fresh.  Public, dramatic, supernatural spectacles of this sort never occurred in the times of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov.  Never before had God revealed Himself in such an overt, spectacular fashion as He did that day at the shores of the Yam Suf – or, for that matter, as He did a week earlier during the plague of the firstborn.  It might have been natural for Benei Yisrael to view themselves, the current generation, as the “beginning of sanctity,” as the true “patriarchs” of the nation that was developing, as the first links of a new chain.  They could have easily fallen into the trap of generational dissociation, detaching themselves emotionally and intellectually from the history and teachings of the patriarchs and matriarchs, and instead casting themselves as the original progenitors of God’s treasured nation.

            It was therefore crucial particularly now, after the unprecedented experiences of the Exodus, to recall and proclaim in no certain terms that God is “Elokei avi,” the God of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov.  The God who killed the Egyptian firstborns and who turned the sea into dry land is the same God who brought Avraham to Canaan and who appeared to Yaakov in Bet-El.  Benei Yisrael recognized that the nation did not begin with them, but rather has its roots in our patriarchs and matriarchs, and they – and we – are perpetuating their legacy.

            Every generation of Am Yisrael has its unique characteristics, trials, contributions, and insignias.  Indeed, this verse begins with the declaration, “Zeh Keli ve-anveihu” (“This is my God, and I shall glorify Him”), from which Chazal (Shabbat 133b and elsewhere) famously infer the obligation of hiddur mitzva, the requirement to aesthetically enhance one’s mitzva observance.  The halakha of hiddur mitzva signifies the “personal touch” that each individual, each community, and each generation lends to the Torah and its mitzvot.  As significant as these unique enhancements are as critical parts of Am Yisrael’s ongoing development, we must never lose sight of the fact that the same God whom we “glorify” through our unique contributions is also “Elokei avi,” the God served by our patriarchs.  Each generation forms a unique link, but each link is just that – a link, that must always remain connected to the links that preceded it, rather than be misconstrued as the beginning of a new chain of religious tradition.

(See also Rav Michael Rosensweig’s “Personal Initiative and Creativity in ’Avodat Hashem,” The Torah U-madda Journal, vol. 1)

Friday

            Commenting to the first verse of Parashat Beshalach, the Mekhilta cites a surprising statement in the name of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai: “Lo nitena ha-Torah li-drosh ela le-okhelei ha-man” – “The Torah was given to be expounded only to those who ate the manna.”  At first glance, it appears that Rabbi Shimon restricted the obligation and privilege of Torah study to the generation of the wilderness, which was fed the miraculous manna that fell each morning from the heavens.  Clearly, however, this cannot be Rabbi Shimon’s intent.  Rather, he sought to convey the message that Torah study requires a certain quality that characterized the generation that ate the manna.  The question thus arises as to what particular quality is needed for Torah learning and characterized that generation.

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda (Denver, 1933), finds the answer in the term “li-drosh” (“to expound”) used here by Rabbi Shimon.  It seems that Rabbi Shimon speaks here not of Torah learning in general, but rather more specifically about the aspect of chiddush, arriving at new insights and interpretations.  The Torah is an extraordinary gift to Benei Yisrael not only in that it allows us to absorb divine wisdom, but, more remarkably, as we are invited to take part in the process of creating Torah.  Torah scholars are assigned the responsibility and given the privilege of becoming God’s partners, as it were, in establishing Torah law through the system and principles of analysis and interpretation that have been passed through tradition.  It is to this aspect of Torah learning – the aspect of creating, rather than simply absorbing, Torah knowledge – that Rabbi Shimon refers.

            This role, Rabbi Shimon teaches, can be entrusted only to the “okhelei ha-man,” people who resemble the generation of the wilderness.  The miraculous means of sustenance during the forty years of travel freed that generation from the anxieties and pressures associated with earning a livelihood.  Their sustenance was stable, steady and secure.  They did not have to worry about holding down a job, they were not dependent on a specific number of customers who walked through the door, and they were not at the mercy of fragile and volatile financial markets.  Throughout this forty-year period, Benei Yisrael received precisely what they needed each morning, without worry or concern.  This feeling of security is crucial for ensuring the objectivity that is needed when “expounding” the Torah.  Dry facts can generally be learned and committed to memory regardless of one’s mental and emotional condition, but the process of “creating” Torah requires sheer objectivity.  A person beset by anxiety, in Rabbi Shimon’s view, is not a valid candidate for the task of “li-drosh,” interpreting, analyzing, applying and deciding Torah law.  His pressures and worries are likely to interfere with his objective reasoning and lead him to reach conclusions based, at least partially, upon personal biases.  For example, a scholar with a business on the brink of bankruptcy may have difficulty ruling on halakhic matters involving loans and debts with pure, unbiased objectivity and strict fealty to halakhic principles.  The art and skill of “li-drosh” can be entrusted only to the “okhelei ha-man,” to those who feel secure and stable in their condition, without anxieties that could undermine their objectivity.

            The Mishnayot in Pirkei Avot (6:5-6) list the forty-eight “kinyanei Torah,” or means of “acquiring” Torah scholarship.  One quality in this list is “yishuv,” which Rashi explains to mean “yishuv ha-da’at” – a settled mind.  A sense of security and stability is necessary for Torah learning because, most obviously, one cannot properly concentrate when he experiences fear or anxiety.  In light of what we have seen, however, the need for “yishuv ha-da’at” in the process of Torah study assumes an additional level of significance – it helps ensure objectivity.  An anxious mind cannot assess or analyze material objectively, as it is instead biased toward finding solutions to the vexing problems that gave rise to the pressures.  Only those who are able to free themselves from the typical anxieties of life, who resemble the ‘okhelei ha-man,” can achieve the level of honesty and objective thinking that is required for arriving at new Torah insights and halakhic conclusions.

David Silverberg