The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Search  

logo
The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash
The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion


 

 

PARASHAT KI TISA

by Rav David Silverberg

 

            Megilat Ester tells that after Haman issued the royal decree to destroy all Jews in the Persian Empire, Mordekhai donned sackcloth and sat in front of the palace gate.  Ester heard that her uncle sat near the palace in mourning garb, and was stunned.  She sent her messenger, Hatakh, to Mordekhai "to learn the why and wherefore of it all" ("la-da'at ma zeh ve-al ma zeh" – 4:5).  The Gemara in Masekhet Megila (15a) notes the similarity between this phrase and the Torah's description in Parashat Ki-Tisa of the luchot (tablets) given to Moshe at Sinai – "mi-zeh u-mi'zeh heim ketuvim" ("inscribed on the one side and on the other" – Shemot 32:15).  Rabbi Yitzchak explains that Ester intentionally made reference to the luchot: "She sent to him: Perhaps Yisrael transgressed the five Books of the Torah, in which it is written, 'mi-zeh u-mi'zeh heim ketuvim'?"  Ester's message to Mordekhai contained an encoded message expressing her suspicion that whatever calamity Mordekhai bemoans has befallen the Jewish people due to their neglect of the Torah.

            But why does Ester refer specifically to the verse describing the luchot?  Wherein lies the connection between the luchot and the sins she attributed to the Jews of her time?

            The "Iyei Ha-yam" (one of the commentaries on the Aggadic sections of the Talmud) explains based on Chazal's interpretation of that verse in Parashat Ki-Tisa.  The Gemara in Masekhet Shabbat (104a; see also Rashi on that verse) comments that when the Torah describes the luchot as "inscribed on one side and on the other," it refers to their supernatural quality, namely, that they can be read from either side.  Quite obviously, this would be impossible without a miracle.  Similarly, the Gemara mentions several pages earlier (99) that the rounded-shaped letters "mem" and "samekh" existed on the luchot miraculously.  Since the letters on the tablets were etched through to the other side, the insides of these letters should have fallen off the tablets.  Only due to a miracle did these letters remain on the luchot.

            What purpose was served by this miracle?  What message does it convey?

            The "Iyei Ha-yam" suggests that this miracle was intended to symbolize the fact that the Torah's commandments know no limitation to time and space.  One could read the writing from either direction, because the Torah remains applicable in all locations, regardless where a person – or the nation at large – stands.  God wanted to emphasize that whereas most codes of law can be read from only one direction, they apply only in the time and circumstances foreseen by their codifiers, the Torah's laws are separate from the stone, so-to-speak, and are not confined to any particular situation.

            With this in mind, the "Iyei Ha-yam" writes, we can understand Ester's response as understood by Rabbi Yitzchak.  Ester instinctively looked for a spiritual flaw on account of which Benei Yisrael are threatened, and she came up with the miraculous quality of the luchot.  Many Jews in Shushan had reached the decision that they are not bound by the Torah's laws in Persia as they had been before the exile.  The opportunities presented to them by the benevolence of the Persian Empire rendered, in their view, much of the Torah irrelevant.  Ester therefore hinted to Mordekhai her fear that the Jews are threatened due to their failure to learn the lesson of the luchot, the eternal relevance of the Torah's laws and our obligation to observe them under all circumstances and in any land.

 

*****

 

            After Mordekhai persuades Ester to appear before King Achashverosh and appeal on behalf of the Jews, she, in turn, instructs Mordekhai to assemble all the Jews in Shushan and observe a three-day period of fasting.  The Megila then writes, "Mordekhai went about and did just as Ester had commanded him" (4:17).  The Gemara in Masekhet Megila (15a), noting the seemingly superfluous phrase, "va-ya'avor Mordekhai" ("Mordekhai went about"), suggests that we interpret "va-ya'avor" to mean "he crossed."  Specifically, the Gemara explains that Mordekhai crossed an "urkema de-maya" – referring to some body of water - in order to gather the Jews located on the other side.  What message does this Gemara seek to convey?

            The Manot Ha-levi (among the classic commentaries to Megilat Ester, written by Rav Shlomo Alkabetz), observes that later in Masekhet Megila (28), the same term – "urkema de-maya" – appears once again.  Rashi there translates it to mean a puddle.  Mordekhai did not have to cross an enormous river, let alone an ocean, to carry out Ester's command.  He needed only to cross over a puddle of water.  Why, then, is this worthy of mention at all?  The Manot Ha-levi explains that the Gemara here teaches the importance of seemingly small and insignificant mitzva acts.  Nobody would have thought to commend Mordekhai for his crossing this puddle as part of his efforts to mobilize the Jewish people.  Chazal, however, wanted to impress upon us the importance of even seemingly minor achievements.

            Still, the question remains, to what does the Gemara refer by this body of water?  What does it represent?

            The Maharal of Prague, in his "Or Chadash," draws an association between this comment of the Gemara and a more famous passage in Masekhet Sanhedrin (89).  There the Gemara discusses akeidat Yitzchak, God's command to Avraham to bring his son Yitzchak to Mount Moriah to be slaughtered.  The Gemara describes that as Avraham and Yitzchak made their way to fulfill the divine command, the Satan (often used in Midrashic literature as a reference to the evil inclination) appeared to them in the form of a raging river that blocked their path.  But Avraham continued into the river, faithfully observing God's command to proceed to Moriah.  Similarly, the pool of water Mordekhai had to cross symbolizes the obstacles that stood in his way as he embarked on his mission.  Just as Avraham and Yitzchak had to overcome considerable hardship in proceeding to fulfill the command of the akeida, as symbolized by the raging river, so did Mordekhai surmount many hurdles of his own as he set out to assemble the Jews for fasting and prayer.

            Apparently, according to the Maharal, mobilizing and uniting the Jewish people in response to Haman's decree was no easy task.  What were the difficulties Mordekhai faced?  It's hard to know for sure, but we can easily imagine the controversies that he may have unwillingly ignited.  For one thing, this three-day fast was declared during the festival of Pesach.  Mordekhai effectively sought to cancel that year's Pesach celebration in order to pray and fast.  In fact, a different view in the Gemara maintains that the term "va-ya'avor," which relates to the Hebrew word for transgression ("aveira"), alludes to the problematic nature of Ester's order, which required fasting on Pesach.  Quite conceivably, many Jews vehemently objected to Mordekhai's demand to observe a three-day period of fasting at this point.  Others, perhaps, felt that Mordekhai was heading down the wrong path entirely.  Instead of praying and fasting, some may have argued, the Jews should employ other means, such as diplomatic efforts, bribes, or armed resistance.  Perhaps these are the "puddles of water" that threatened to block Mordekhai's attempt to establish a citywide period of fasting and prayer.

            Chazal inform us that Mordekhai and Ester were descendants of King Shaul, who, as we discussed in our S.A.L.T. series last week, failed to fulfill the order of the prophet Shemuel to destroy the nation of Amalek.  His descendants, Mordekhai and Ester, are assigned the task of completing the mission and eliminating Haman, scion of the Amalekite king Aggag, whom Shaul let live after the war with Amalek.  As we saw last week, Shaul erred by not opposing the soldiers who wanted to take spoils from Amalek rather than destroying the nation entirely.  Mordekhai corrects this flaw of his ancestor by displaying strong leadership and firmly pursuing the three days of prayer and fasting.  Unlike Shaul, he did not back down due to public opinion, but rather "crossed the river," exerting himself tirelessly until he carried his mission through to completion.

 

*****

 

            Parashat Ki-Tisa tells the story of the chet ha-egel, the sin of the golden calf that Benei Yisrael fashion and worship before Moshe descends from Mount Sinai with the two luchot (tablets).  At the point in the narrative when Moshe makes his way down the mountain, the Torah digresses to describe the luchot: "Moshe turned and went down from the mountain bearing the two tablets of the Pact, tablets inscribed on both their surfaces: they were inscribed on the one side and on the other.  The tablets were God's work, and the writing was God's writing, incised upon the tablets" (32:15-16).  Several commentators have pointed out that this detailed description of the luchot should have, seemingly, been presented earlier, when the Torah tells of Moshe's receiving the tablets from God (31:18; in fact, that verse does include a brief description of the luchot).  Why do we hear about the nature of the luchot and its inscription specifically here, when Moshe makes his way down the mountain?

            Before looking at some of the answers suggested by the commentators, we should first take note of the two different points made in these verses concerning the luchot.  First, the Torah tells that the inscription appeared on both sides of the tablets (a quality understood by Chazal as miraculous, as we discussed two days ago).  Secondly, the verse emphasizes that God Himself made the tablets and their inscription (though see Rashi for a different interpretation of the term "ma'aseh Elokim").  In studying the commentators' explanations for the relevance of this description to the current context, we should consider how these explanations justify the mention here of both these two properties of the luchot.

            Chizkuni explains that the Torah stresses the first point, that the luchot were inscribed on both sides, to indicate that the stone of the luchot was hollow, and thus easily shattered when Moshe threw the luchot to the ground upon seeing the worship of the golden calf.  This description thus serves as a necessary, pragmatic introduction to the narrative of the breaking of the tablets.  As for the second quality – the divine nature of the tablets, Chizkuni writes, "Meaning, what a great thing they lost!"  The verse introduces the breaking of the luchot by emphasizing their singular quality – having been made by the Almighty Himself, thus underscoring the profound loss the nation suffered as a result of the golden calf.

            Many centuries later, the homiletic work "Shemen Ha-tov" presents this same explanation, and derives from here the critical message of appreciating what one has before it is lost.  People often tend to take what they have for granted until they lose it.  The Torah therefore elaborates on the unique quality of the luchot before they are shattered, to teach the importance of recognizing and appreciating our blessings before they are lost.

            In a slightly different vein, the Ramban suggests that the Torah here emphasizes that Moshe decided to break the luchot despite their singular qualities.  The fact that the tablets were the handiwork of the Almighty Himself did not prevent Moshe from throwing them to the ground and destroying them when he saw the golden calf.

            The Ramban then proceeds to present the exact opposite approach, namely, that the luchot were broken not despite their divine nature, but specifically because of their divine nature.  The Ramban refers to the well-known Midrash (Shemot Rabba 46:1) that when Moshe approached the Israelite camp, the inscription on the luchot "flew in the air" and departed from the stone due to the impurity and defilement of the sin Benei Yisrael had committed.  The departure of the lettering made the stones too heavy for Moshe to hold, and he dropped them, and they shattered.  This means that the divine origin of the inscription made it simply incompatible with a golden calf; the lettering, the writing of God, could not remain in such an environment.  Thus, the fact that the Almighty Himself inscribed the commandments upon the luchot is precisely why Moshe broke them as he approached the scene of chet ha-egel.

            The Netziv suggests a much different approach, which he introduces by asking a simple question on this entire incident.  After Moshe breaks the luchot, he destroys the egel and punishes its worshippers.  Why, the Netziv asks, did the people not resist Moshe's campaign against the calf and its followers?  After all, the Midrash tells that Aharon was unable to oppose the advocates of the golden calf, and Chur, Moshe and Aharon's nephew, tried to oppose the project and was killed.  Why did Moshe face no opposition?  The Netziv explains that this is precisely why Moshe destroyed the luchot as soon as he came in view of Benei Yisrael.  He realized that he could purge the nation of their golden calf frenzy only by this drastic measure – by showing them the direct consequences of their actions.  The Torah therefore describes in this context the unique quality of the luchot, the special gift Benei Yisrael realized they lost when Moshe cast the divine tablets from his arms.  It was this realization that rattled Benei Yisrael and allowed Moshe to pursue his campaign of destroying the egel and punishing those who worshipped it.

 

*****

 

            Towards the end of Parashat Ki-Tisa (34:28), the Torah tells that during the forty days and nights Moshe spent atop Mount Sinai, he refrained entirely from food and drink.  The Midrash (Shemot Rabba 47:5) asks the obvious question, "Is it possible for a person to go forty days without food or drink?"  The Midrash replies, "If you enter a city, you must follow its local custom."  Upon entering the domain of the heavens, Moshe had to take on the "local custom" of existing without any food or drink.  The Midrash adds that the converse is also true: when three angels descended to earth and visited Avraham, they adopted the practice of earthlings to engage in eating and drinking, and partook of the meal Avraham served them.  The Gemara in Masekhet Bava Metzia (86b) likewise derives from Moshe's abstinence while atop Mount Sinai that "a person should never deviate from the practice" of the place where he is currently situated.

            While we can understand the lesson emerging from this Midrash, it appears to leave unanswered the initial question it posed: how did Moshe do it?  How did the importance of following local custom affect Moshe's biological composition, allowing him to survive for nearly six weeks without any food or drink?

            Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson, in his "Divrei Shaul," suggests an explanation which touches upon the nature of the experience of prophecy.  Based on a passage in Rav Sa'adya Gaon's "Emunot Ve-dei'ot," Rav Nathanson explains that in principle, prophets should have the power to abstain from food and drink.  The nature of prophecy is such that it frees the prophet (to one extent or another) from the physical limitations generally imposed by the natural human condition.  It entails a departure of sorts from physical life and a transition into a different sphere, of spiritual existence.  In reality, however, prophets retained their physical condition; they, like everyone else, had to eat, drink, sleep and so on.  Rav Sa'adya explained that had the prophets been divested of their physical needs, their mission would have been undermined.  Their purpose is to bring God's word to the people, to convey to them the Almighty's message and instructions.  If they would live on a fundamentally different plane than their audience, their words would have no impact.  The masses could not possibly accept rebuke or guidance from someone who lives in an entirely different sphere, whose whole existence has no connection to the physical world in which the rest of us live.  Only for this reason, Rav Sa'adya Gaon claimed, did God see to it that His prophets would remain physical human beings and retain their basic human needs.

            With this in mind, Rav Nathanson explains, we can return to the Midrash and understand its response.  Moshe could survive forty days without food and drink because he did not live among humans during that period.  A prophet experiences hunger and thirst only in order to maintain open lines of communication between him and the people to whom he is sent.  This was unnecessary during the forty-day period of Moshe's stay on top of the mountain, when he lived among angels, rather than among men.  Thus, in response to the question of how Moshe survived, the Midrash answers that Moshe entered a different city, so-to-speak, and he therefore had no need to retain his normal physical condition.

 

*****

 

            The mishna in Avot De-Rabbi Natan (2:3) tells that when Moshe prepared to throw the luchot after witnessing the sin of the golden calf, the seventy elders protested his decision.  What ensued, the mishna describes, was literally a tug-of-war between Moshe and the elders, each grabbing one end of luchot.  Ultimately, of course, Moshe overpowered the elders and managed to break the luchot.

            Why did the elders object to Moshe's decision to throw down the luchot?  What was this struggle all about?

            The Pardeis Yoseif cites from the work "Kovetz Derushim" that the elders objected to the destruction of the luchot because Benei Yisrael violated only one of the two tablets.  The first five commandments, inscribed on one tablet, deal mainly with matters "bein adam la-makom" – related to man's responsibilities towards God.  The final five, inscribed on the second tablet, discuss interpersonal laws – "bein adam la-chaveiro."  The elders argued that as grave as Benei Yisrael's transgression was, it involved a breach only in the first group of commandments, the laws governing man's conduct towards the Almighty.  The calf, they claimed, did not infringe at all upon the second set of commandments, which involve a person's treatment of others.  They therefore sought to prevent Moshe from breaking the second tablet, since Benei Yisrael violated only the first.

            We might add that before he ascended Mount Sinai, Moshe appointed the elders to tend to the nation's judicial needs during his absence (see 24:14 and Rashi).  It was their responsibility to settle disputes and resolve conflicts while Moshe was away.  Understandably, then, it was they who came to the defense of Benei Yisrael when Moshe decided to break the luchot.  They more than anyone else were in a position to testify to the social harmony that pervaded throughout the nation over the previous forty days.

            Their appeals, however, were to no avail.  Moshe insisted that betraying one area of Torah amounts to a betrayal of the entirety of Torah.  The two tablets cannot be separated from one another.  If Benei Yisrael were not deserving of the first set of commandments, then they could not earn the privilege of receiving the second set of commandments, either.

 

*****

 

            This Shabbat we read for our maftir reading the section known as "Parashat Para," taken from the beginning of Parashat Chukat.  This section deals with the para aduma ("red heifer"), the ashes of which were used for the formal "purification" process required for anyone who had come in contact with a dead body.  We read this section before Rosh Chodesh Nissan, because it was at this point when, during the time when the Mikdash stood, Benei Yisrael were reminded of these laws so that they could undergo the process of purification before Pesach (see Rashi's comments to the mishna, Megila 29a).  Since every Jew was required to bring the korban pesach, and offering a sacrifice required a status of tahara (ritual purification), the entire nation would have to undergo this process as part of their preparations for Pesach.

             How do we determine on which Shabbat to conduct this reading?  The Gemara in Masekhet Megila (30a) writes that we read Parashat Para on the Shabbat immediately following Purim.  The Talmud Yerushalmi in Megila (3:5) concurs, only states it differently: "We do not interrupt between Para and Ha-chodesh."  Meaning, we conduct the reading of Parashat Para on the Shabbat immediately preceding the Shabbat on which we conduct another special reading – Parashat Ha-chodesh.  Parashat Ha-chodesh is read on the Shabbat immediately preceding Rosh Chodesh Nissan, and records the instructions given by God in Egypt on Rosh Chodesh Nissan in preparation for the Exodus.  Thus, according to the Yerushalmi, we read Parashat Para two Shabbatot before Rosh Chodesh Nissan.

            As we said, the Yerushalmi in practice agrees with the Bavli.  The second Shabbat before Rosh Chodesh Nissan will always be the Shabbat immediately following Purim.  However, the Yerushalmi chose to describe the calculation based on the connection between Parashat Para and Parashat Ha-chodesh.

            The Yerushalmi then proceeds to cite a seemingly peculiar comment by Rabbi Levi, which appears to underscore the significance of this connection.  Rabbi Levi suggests a tool by which we can remember when to read Parashat Para.  Halakha requires us to drink four cups of wine at the seder on Pesach.  If one wishes, he may drink additional cups of wine in between the drinking of the cups at the designated points in the seder.  The one exception to the rule is in between the third and fourth cups – meaning, during hallel.  Halakha forbids one from drinking wine in between the third and fourth cups.  Thus, Rabbi Levi comments, if one wishes to remember when to read Parashat Para, he needs only to bring to mind the halakha concerning the four cups: one may not drink in between the third and fourth cups.  Similarly, we make no interruption in between the third and fourth of the arba parshiyot (the four special readings conducted in the weeks prior to Purim) – namely, in between Parashat Para and Parashat Ha-chodesh.

            What does Rabbi Levi mean by drawing this parallel between the four cups of wine drunk at the seder and the arba parshiyot?  Though one might argue that Rabbi Levi intends to present nothing more than a convenient method of calculation, it seems reasonable to assume that he seeks to convey a deeper meaning, as well.  This analogy, at very least, highlights the connection between Parashat Para and Parashat Ha-chodesh.  The Yerushalmi does not merely schedule Parashat Para for the Shabbat immediately preceding Parashat Ha-chodesh; it "forbids" making any interruption in between the two, just as one may not interrupt in between the third and fourth of the arba kosot of the seder.

            Rav Mayer Blumenfeld, in his "Netivot Nevi'im," suggests a novel theory to decode the subtle message embedded in this passage in the Talmud Yerushalmi.  He claims that the connection between Parashat Para and Parashat Ha-chodesh symbolizes the parity between the ritualistic, mysterious mitzvot on the one hand, and the laws relating to Jewish nationality, on the other.  Unfortunately, he observes, many Jews draw a distinction between mitzvot such as the para aduma – laws that we cannot possibly understand, whose meaning and spiritual value elude our finite intellects – and mitzvot such as Pesach – celebrations of nationhood and freedom.  There are those who enthusiastically participate in "Pesach" – the mitzvot that quite clearly relate to our national identity, but excuse themselves from the rituals such as para aduma, which contain no readily accessible explanation or spiritual value (though obviously in truth they contain no less value and meaning than any other mitzva).  The Yerushalmi therefore insists on juxtaposing Parashat Para and Parashat Ha-chodesh, to emphasize the fact that Judaism sees no difference between the unexplainable mitzvot such as para aduma, and the nationalistic customs such as those described in Parashat Ha-chodesh.

            Elsewhere (Pesachim 10:6), the Yerushalmi explains that the reason why one may not drink in between the third and fourth cups is the concern that he will become inebriated.  Rav Blumenfeld suggests that Rabbi Levi had this in mind, as well, when he drew the parallel between the four cups of wine and the arba parshiyot.  A disruption between Parashat Para and Parashat Ha-chodesh reflects a form of religious intoxication, a clouding of one's vision, which prevents him from accepting that which lies beyond the reach of his limited human comprehension.  Chazal therefore instituted that we read Parashat Ha-chodesh immediately following Parashat Para, so as to impress upon us the parity between these two categories of mitzvot.

 

*****

 

            The haftara for Parashat Para is taken from Sefer Yechezkel (36:16-38), and describes the process through which God will "purify" Benei Yisrael in the future.  The prophet employs the halakhic process of ritual purification as an analogy for the spiritual cleansing Benei Yisrael will undergo – "I will sprinkle clean water on you" (verse 25), and this prophecy therefore serves as an appropriate haftara for the Shabbat of Parashat Para.  (For more about the reading of Parashat Para, see yesterday's S.A.L.T.)

            In the beginning of the haftara, God describes to Yechezkel Benei Yisrael's impurity which necessitated the purification process discussed later.  God likens the nation's defilement to "tum'at ha-nidda" – the ritual impurity of the menstruous woman.  What does the Almighty mean through this analogy?  In what way did Benei Yisrael's sins render them comparable to a nidda?

            Rashi and Radak beautifully explain this comparison as defining the nature of God's relationship to His people during their period of exile.  When a woman becomes a nidda, she and her husband must separate, but this separation does not stem from any friction between them.  Quite to the contrary, one explanation given for the prohibitions of nidda is that they enhance the couple's physical relationship by building anticipation and longing for one another (see Rabbi Meir's comment in Masekhet Nidda 31b).  Similarly, God distances Himself from Benei Yisrael, as it were, less out of a feeling of contempt than with a sense of hopeful anticipation for the ultimate reunion.  Just as husband and wife anxiously await the wife's immersion and purification, so does the Almighty longingly anticipate the moment when Benei Yisrael will once and for all cleanse themselves from their wrongdoing, thereby allowing for their reunion with Him.

            In the ensuing verses, God tells of the "chillul Hashem" (desecration of God's Name) that Benei Yisrael's exile causes and which prompts Him to bring about the process of purification.  God bemoans, "When they came to those nations, they caused My holy Name to be profaned, in that it was said of them, 'These are the people of the Lord, and they left from His land'" (verse 20).  In what way was God's Name profaned?  Rashi and Radak explain that Benei Yisrael's banishment from their land lent proof to the pagans' claim that God lacks the power to protect His people.  It is to this theological repercussion of exile to which God refers when He speaks of the "chillul Hashem."  This explanation of Rashi and Radak flows naturally from their aforementioned interpretation of the "nidda" analogy.  They maintain that this prophecy describes God's estrangement from His people, the rupture caused by the nation's sins between them and the Almighty.  Accordingly, the "chillul Hashem" described in the ensuing verses likewise involves that estrangement: the pagan nations misinterpret God's abandonment of Israel as indicative of His powerlessness.  In truth, however, He left His people only as a husband separates from his wife during her period of nidda, anxiously awaiting the culmination of the separation period and moment of reunion.  In response to this erroneous interpretation of Benei Yisrael's exile, God feels compelled, so-to-speak, to usher in the period of purification and reunion so as to dispel any notions of His inability to care for His people.

            Rav Mendel Hirsch, in his commentary to the haftarot, takes a much different approach to the "chillul Hashem" described in this prophecy, one much closer to the familiar, contemporary usage of the term.  He explains that as they become dispersed among other peoples, Benei Yisrael are judged and scrutinized with an unfairly strict standard.  Faults, crimes and moral failings of individual Jews are automatically seen as characteristic of the nation at large.  Rather than recognize and respect the virtues of the majority, the gentile world instead focuses its attention onto and magnifies the shortcomings of the minority.  This results in a terrible "chillul Hashem": "They caused My holy Name to be profaned, in that it was said of them, 'These are the people of the Lord, and they left from His land."  Other nations point accusing fingers at the entirety of the Jewish people and ask, "These are the people of the Lord?  These are the ones who left His land?"  They look to the unethical conduct of the few as proof to Am Yisrael's inferiority and the impossibility of their unique relationship to God.  It is this "chillul Hashem," Rav Hirsch claims, that will necessitate God's purification of Benei Yisrael, which will be followed by their return to Israel and the recognition by all peoples on earth of God's relationship with Israel: "The nations that are left around you shall know that I the Lord have rebuilt the ravaged places and replanted the desolate land" (verse 36).

            (It is interesting to note the historical frameworks within which these commentators lived, which very likely influenced their respective approaches to this prophecy.  Rashi and Radak lived in 11th/12th-century France, in Church-dominated Christian Europe, where Jews were persecuted on the grounds of their having been rejected by God, the exile, suffering and Diaspora serving as "proof" to this claim.  Rav Mendel Hirsch – son of Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch – lived in 19th-century Germany, in the heart of the European enlightenment and secularization.  Accusations against Jews involved not the theological claims of Christianity, but rather claims of racial inferiority, for which evidence was often brought from isolated incidents of unethical conduct by Jews.)

 

David Silverberg

 

 

 

 

 

To see this year's S.A.L.T. selections:

 

www.vbm-torah.org/salt.htm


 

This shiur is provided courtesy of the Virtual Beit Midrash, the premier source of online courses on Torah and Judaism - 14 different courses on all levels, for all backgrounds.

Make Jewish learning part of your week on a regular basis - enroll in the
Virtual Beit Midrash


(c) Yeshivat Har Etzion2002 All rights reserved to Yeshivat Har Etzion

Yeshivat Har Etzion
Alon Shvut, Israel, 90433
office@etzion.org.il

 
Copyright (c) 1997-2012 by Yeshivat Har Etzion. Please send comments or questions to: office@etzion.org.il