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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
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To see this year's S.A.L.T. selections:
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www.vbm-torah.org/salt.htm
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