S.A.L.T.

PESACH 5770 – PARASHAT SHEMINI

By Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei

            In a verse in Tehillim which is included in the Hallel service, David Ha-melekh exclaims, “I shall raise a cup of salvation, and I shall call in the Name of the Lord” (Tehillim 116:13).  Rashi interprets the expression “cup of salvation” as referring to the nesakhim, the wine libations that accompany sacrificial offerings.  Later in this Psalm (verse 17), David announces his intention to offer a zevach toda, a thanksgiving offering, to express his gratitude to the Almighty for rescuing him from danger.  The Leviyim in the Beit Ha-mikdash would sing praises to God during the nesakhim ritual performed during the offering of a sacrifice.  David thus proclaims that during the raising of the “cup of salvation” – referring to the pouring of wine over the altar during the offering of his toda sacrifice – praises will be sung to the Almighty.

            It appears from Rashi’s comments that he interpreted this verse as referring to the praises sung by the Leviyim, as opposed to the praises sung by David himself.  Even though David here promises that “I shall call in the Name of the Lord,” in truth, according to Rashi’s understanding, he speaks of the Levites’ songs of praise as the libation is poured on the altar.

            Rav Avraham Yitzchak Sorotzkin, in his Rinat Yitzchak commentary to the Haggadah, notes that we may also interpret this verse as referring to praises sung by David himself.  The Chatam Sofer (O.C. 51) writes that the korban toda is unique in that the individual offering the sacrifice would recite praises to God as the Leviyim sang during the nesakhim ritual.  In this vein the Chatam Sofer explained a verse earlier in Tehillim (107:22) that says in reference to gravely ill patients whom God cured, “They shall sacrifice thanksgiving offerings and tell of His actions with glee” (“Ve-yizbechu zivchei toda vi-saperu ma’asav be-rina”).  This verse implies that when the individuals bring their thanksgiving offerings to express their gratitude to God, they speak of their salvation.  The Chatam Sofer thus claimed that people who bring a korban toda would praise God during the libation ceremony, as the Leviyim sang.  Accordingly, Rav Sorotzkin writes, when David says, “I shall raise a cup of salvation, and I shall call in the Name of the Lord,” he perhaps refers to the songs of praise that he will sing at the time of the libations accompanying his korban toda.

            Rav Sorotzkin further notes that both Rashi and the Chatam Sofer work on the assumption that the Leviyim sang songs of praise during the offering of a korban toda.  This assumption runs in opposition to the Rambam’s explicit ruling in Hilkhot Kelei Ha-mikdash (3:2) that the Leviyim sing in the Mikdash only during the offering of mandatory ola and shelamim sacrifices brought on behalf of the entire nation.  In his view, the Leviyim do not sing when a private individual offers a sacrifice, or, for that matter, during the offering of any voluntary sacrifice.  According to the Rambam, then, the Leviyim did not sing during the offering of a korban toda, a voluntary sacrifice brought by private individuals.

David Silverberg

Sunday

            Both Pesach and Shavuot feature a special sacrifice that was offered in the Mikdash, in addition to the musaf sacrifice that was brought on all festivals.  As the Torah discusses in Parashat Emor (23:10), there is a mitzva to bring “reishit ketzirekhem,” the first of the harvested grain, to the Temple on the second day of Pesach.  This offering is commonly referred to as the korban ha-omer.  The Torah then commands counting seven weeks from the day of this offering, and bringing on the fiftieth day – Shavuot – two loaves of bread as an offering, which is commonly known as the korban shetei ha-lechem.

            There are a number of indications that these two sacrifices differ from one another in terms of their relationship to the festival on which they were brought.  It appears that while the korban shetei ha-lechem is integral to the nature and observance of Shavuot, the korban ha-omer is linked to Pesach only by virtue of the fact that the occasion of its offering coincides with the festival.  Fundamentally, however, there is no essential link between the mitzva of the korban ha-omer and the observance of Pesach.  The first indication to this effect is the section in Sefer Bamidbar (chapters 28-29) which presents the command concerning the special musaf offerings on the festivals.  In introducing the offerings of Shavuot, the Torah writes, “And on the Day of the First Grain Offering, when you offer a new grain-offering to the Lord…”  The Torah describes Shavuot as a day on which the “mincha chadasha” – the bread offering from the first gleanings of the wheat harvest – is brought in the Beit Ha-mikdash.  This description would certainly indicate that the korban shetei ha-lechem is integral to the nature of the holiday of Shavuot.  The fact that the Torah makes mention of this sacrifice in the context of the musaf offering of Shavuot strongly suggests that the shetei ha-lechem, like the musaf offering, is required as an essential component of the day’s observance.  In the context of the musaf offerings on Pesach, however, the Torah makes no mention of the korban ha-omer.  It describes the holiday in terms of the pesach sacrifice brought on the fourteenth of Nissan and the requirement to eat matza throughout the seven days of the holiday.  Apparently, the korban ha-omer is not essential to the observance of Pesach, as the shetei ha-lechem offering is to the observance of Shavuot.

            This distinction might also be reflected in the Gemara’s famous discussion in Masekhet Arakhin (10a-10b) concerning the mitzva to recite hallel on the festivals.  This mitzva applies differently on Pesach and on Sukkot.  On Sukkot, the complete hallel is recited throughout the entire festival, whereas on Pesach, the complete hallel is recited only on the first day of the holiday (or on the first two days in the Diaspora).  One of the reasons given for this distinction relates to the different musaf offerings on these occasions.  On Pesach, the musaf offering remains constant throughout the seven days of the holiday (two bulls, one ram, seven sheep and a goat – Bamidbar 28:19-22).  On Sukkot, however, each day requires a different sacrifice.  Leaving aside the question of why the uniformity of the sacrificial procedure affects the mitzva of hallel, it is perhaps noteworthy that the Gemara did not even entertain the possibility of ascribing a special status to the second day of Pesach, on which the korban ha-omer is offered.  The Gemara assumes that the sacrificial requirements of all days of Pesach are identical, despite the fact that a special, distinct offering – the korban ha-omer – is offered on the second day of this holiday.  This might suggest that the korban ha-omer is not integral to the observance of Pesach, and it was therefore not taken into account in the Gemara’s discussion.  The Pesach offerings are indeed uniform throughout the holiday – because the korban ha-omer is not considered a “Pesach offering.”  Although practically it is offered during the holiday, it does not relate to the observance of this festival.

            The practical ramification of this analysis relates to the issue of which kohanim may partake of these sacrifices.  The Rambam, in Hilkhot Kelei Ha-mikdash (4:4), codifies the Biblical command to treat all kohanim equally with regard to the festival sacrifices.  Although the kohanim served in the Temple in shifts, based on a rotational system, and sacrificial food was generally reserved for the kohanim of the current shift, the festival offerings were different.  Any kohen who came to the Temple on a festival wishing to perform the service and partake of the festival sacrifices was given the same opportunity as the kohanim of the current mishmar (shift).  In codifying this halakha, the Rambam places the korban shetei ha-lechem in the same category as the festival sacrifices.  Meaning, a kohen who came to the Mikdash on Shavuot could partake of the day’s musaf offerings and of the korban shetei ha-lechem along with the other kohanim.  The Rambam makes no mention of the korban ha-omer in this context, indicating that it is not treated as a festival sacrifice with respect to this halakha.  Since the korban ha-omer is not inherently connected to Pesach, it does not have the status as a “festival offering” in which all kohanim are given an equal opportunity to participate.  This is in contrast to the korban shetei ha-lechem, which is integral to the observance of Shavuot and is thus treated no differently than the musaf offerings.

(Based on an article by Rav Yonason Sacks at http://torahweb.org/torah/2005/parsha/rsac_pinchas.html)

David Silverberg

Monday

            Yesterday, we discussed the difference between the korban ha-omer sacrifice offered on the second day of Pesach, and the korban shetei ha-lechem offering that was brought on the festival of Shavuot.  Both offerings were brought from the first gleanings of the new crop (the korban ha-omer from barley, and the shetei ha-lechem from wheat), but they differ from one another in terms of their relationship to the festival on which they are brought.  The korban shetei ha-lechem, as we saw, is integrally connected to the festival of Shavuot, whereas the korban ha-omer does not appear to bear any integral connection to the festival of Pesach.  Although it was offered during the holiday, its relationship to Pesach does not extend any further than its timing.  It is not considered one of the Pesach sacrifices, but is rather a sacrifice that the Torah requires offering on the sixteenth of Nissan, which happens to fall during the seven-day holiday of Pesach.

            The reason for this distinction might be rooted in a more basic distinction between the festivals of Pesach and Shavuot – or, more accurately, between Pesach and the other two pilgrimage festivals (Shavuot and Sukkot).  The Torah first introduces the shalosh regalim in Parashat Mishpatim, where it writes:

You shall observe the Festival of Matzot…in the season of the month of spring, because it was then that you left Egypt… And [you shall also observe] the Festival of the Harvest [celebrating] the first produce of your work…and the Festival of the Gathering, when you gather [the produce] of your work from the field.

(Shemot 23:15-16)

A careful reading of these verses reveals an important distinction regarding the names of the three regalim.  Shavuot and Sukkot are named after the stages of the agricultural process during which they occur: “Festival of the Harvest” (Chag Ha-katzir) and “Festival of the Gathering” (Chag Ha-asif).  Pesach, however, is named “Festival of Matzot,” in reference to the mitzva of matza which clearly commemorates the event of the Exodus.  Although the Torah emphasizes that Pesach is observed in the “month of the spring,” the reason for this timing is historical, not agricultural: “…because it was then that you left Egypt.”  Moreover, the Torah does not call Pesach “the Festival of the Spring.”  It is observed during the spring, but it does not celebrate the spring the way Shavuot celebrates the harvest and Sukkot celebrates the gathering of the produce into the warehouses.  The timing of Pesach relates to the historical event of the Exodus, rather than to the agricultural event of the first harvest.

            Thus, the holiday of Pesach is, fundamentally, the holiday celebrating Yetzi’at Mitzrayim.  Coincidentally, the beginning of the harvest occurs at this time, and the Torah designated the sixteenth of Nissan as the day to celebrate this occasion.  But this designation relates solely to the spring season, and not to the holiday of Pesach.  Therefore, the korban ha-omer, which celebrates the onset of the harvest, is not integral to the observance of Pesach.  This is contrast to Shavuot, which is explicitly called the “Festival of the Harvest.”  On this festival, the offering of the first gleanings indeed constitutes an essential component of the day’s observance, and thus the korban shetei ha-lechem is considered one of the festival sacrifices of Shavuot.

(Based on a shiur by HaRav Mosheh Lichtenstein shelit”a)

David Silverberg

Tuesday

            The final section of Parashat Shemini discusses the basic principles of the Torah’s dietary code, as well as the laws of tum’a and tahara (ritual impurity and purity) as they apply to contact with animal carcasses.  The Torah concludes this section by recalling the event of Yetzi’at Mitzrayim: “…you shall not defile your souls through all crawly creatures that swarm the earth – for I am the Lord who has brought you up from the land of Egypt to be a God for you, and you shall be holy, for I am holy” (11:44-45).

            Rashi explains, “I brought you up in order that you accept My commands.”  According to this interpretation, God makes mention of the Exodus in this context to impress upon Benei Yisrael their general subservience to His authority.  There is no connection, according to this view, between the event of Yetzi’at Mitzrayim and the specific prohibitions of ma’akhalot asurot (forbidden foods) presented in this section.  However, Rashi then proceeds to cite a different interpretation from the Talmud (Bava Metzia 61b): “It was taught in the school of Rabbi Yishmael: ‘If I had taken the Israelites from Egypt only for the purpose that they would not be defiled through insects like the other nations – this would be enough.”  According to this interpretation, this verse indeed draws a specific connection between the Exodus and the prohibition against partaking of sheratzim (insects and rodents).

            The basis of this connection might be the theme of human dignity that is likely among the central, underlying messages of the Exodus.  Egypt’s cruelty against Benei Yisrael was driven by the fundamentally flawed conception of a social hierarchy, whereby the occupants of the higher rungs enjoy the right to manipulate those on the lower levels.  The chilling and gruesome image painted by the Midrash of Israelite newborn infants used as bricks in buildings graphically illustrates the process of dehumanization, the reducing of human beings into building materials.  God miraculously rescued Benei Yisrael from bondage – among other reasons – to proclaim the message of human dignity, that all people are created in the divine image and are thus to be treated as dignified creatures.

            This basic message perhaps explains the connection alluded to in Parashat Shemini between the Exodus and the prohibition of sheratzim.  Our sense of dignity and self-worth must be reflected in our day-to-day conduct, including our diets.  God forbade us from partaking of sheratzim so that we perceive ourselves as important, distinguished creatures who stand in the service of the Almighty.  Just as a peasant boy who joins the royal family must alter his habits, including changing the way he eats, similarly, Benei Yisrael, who had recently left the mudpits of Egypt to become the King’s servants, must learn to conduct themselves in a more dignified manner.  For this reason, perhaps, the Gemara establishes that “if I had taken the Israelites from Egypt only for the purpose that they would not be defiled through insects like the other nations – this would be enough.”  The laws of sheratzim teach the fundamental precept of conducting oneself with honor and dignity – a message that lies at the heart of the event of the Exodus.

David Silverberg

Wednesday

            The Torah in Parashat Shemini tells of the tragic death of Aharon’s two older sons, Nadav and Avihu, whom God killed when they brought an unwarranted offering in the Mishkan on the day of their consecration as kohanim.  Following this calamity, Moshe turned to Aharon and his surviving sons and instructed them to refrain from mourning observances: “Do not let your hair grow and do not rend your garments, and you shall not die…but your brethren, the entire House of Israel, shall weep for the burning which the Lord has wrought.  And do not leave the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, lest you die…” (10:6-7).

            The halakhic principle underlying Moshe’s instructions is the rule that a kohen gadol does not observe any practices of mourning after a family member’s death.  Aharon, the kohen gadol, was therefore enjoined to proceed as usual with the day’s sacrificial rituals and not to observe mourning.  And although his sons were ordinary kohanim, who are, indeed, required to observe certain laws of bereavement (such as refraining from sacrificial meat and sacrificial rituals), an exception was made on that day, the day upon which they were formally consecrated as kohanim, and they were treated like kohanim gedolim (see Ramban).  Therefore, Moshe instructed Aharon and his sons to proceed with the day’s ritual requirements as though no tragedy struck, while the rest of the nation “shall weep for the burning which the Lord has wrought.”

            Rav Shlomo Kluger (in Imrei Shefer) notes that the instructions issued to Aharon and his sons are perhaps symbolic of the proper attitude and response toward misfortune.  Namely, people should endeavor to overcome their personal troubles, but “weep” for the troubles of others.  The kohen gadol embodied the spiritual ideal that the rest of the nation must strive to follow in more moderate fashion.  His abstaining from mourning – an exceptional requirement which does not apply to any other individual – represents in the extreme the ideal of overcoming personal tragedy and remaining steadfastly devoted and joyous in the service of God despite personal hardship.  While for others mourning is acceptable and in fact obligatory, we are nevertheless to follow the kohen gadol’s example by mustering emotional strength and faith in times of hardship.  But at the same time, “the entire House of Israel, shall weep for the burning which the Lord has wrought.”  In response to the calamities suffered by others, we must indeed “weep” and grieve.  With regard to our own troubles, to which we are naturally driven to react with sorrow and grief, we must endeavor to follow the kohen gadol’s example of strength and fortitude.  But when it comes to the misfortunes of others, which we naturally tend to ignore or overcome with ease, we must try to “weep” and sincerely share in their sorrow and pain.  Just like Aharon and his sons were to overcome their pain while the rest of the nation were to share in their pain, similarly, we are bidden to struggle as best we can to confront and triumph over personal troubles, but try to feel the sorrow of our peers during their time of grief.

David Silverberg

Thursday

            The Torah in Parashat Shemini tells the famous story of Nadav and Avihu, Aharon’s two older sons who were killed on the day of their consecration as kohanim.  God sent a fire that killed the new kohanim when they brought an unwarranted incense offering in the Mishkan.

            Chazal, in numerous places, add to this story by noting a wide range of other offenses of which Nadav and Avihu were guilty.  Among the more famous sins attributed to Nadav and Avihu, as recorded in the Midrash, is their refusal to marry, and their having entered the Mishkan after drinking wine.  But perhaps the most grievous of these offenses is described in Masekhet Sanhedrin (52a): “Moshe and Aharon were walking along and Nadav and Avihu were walking behind them, with all Israel behind them.  Nadav said to Avihu, ‘When will these two elderly men die and you and I can lead the generation?’”  According to this account, it appears, Nadav and Avihu eagerly anticipated the day when their father and uncle would die so they could assume the mantle of national leadership.

            Rav Yitzchak Stollman, in his Minchat Yitzchak (Detroit, 1941), noted that we need not necessarily interpret this description to mean that Nadav and Avihu were simply hungry for power and authority.  In fact, as Rashi (10:3) cites from the Midrash, Moshe described Nadav and Avihu after their deaths as greater men than he and Aharon.  It is likely that Nadav and Avihu’s aspirations for authority were fueled by genuine idealism, by sincere concern for the future of Am Yisrael.  Moshe and Aharon were, as Nadav and Avihu described them, “zekeinim” (“elderly men”), and they would not live forever.  Aharon’s sons perhaps were not looking forward to the current leadership’s demise, but were rather anxious to prepare for that eventuality.  They understood the responsibility they bore to ready themselves already now for the time when they would assume the role of Moshe and Aharon’s successors.

            In this vein, Rav Stollman suggested explaining the comments in the Midrash that Nadav and Avihu remained unmarried, or drank before entering the Mishkan.  These offenses should perhaps be understood not as isolated, specific sins, but rather as reflections of the general approach taken by Nadav and Avihu in preparing for leadership.  According to the view that Aharon’s sons refused to marry, they decided that they must remain separate and apart from the people.  They felt that in order to earn the people’s respect and admiration, they must abstain from family life.  Celibacy, they believed, would elevate them to a higher pedestal of holiness from where they could assert the religious leadership that the people required.  If they married and led normal family lives, they would fail to earn the reverence of the masses and would thus be unable to fulfill their role of guiding and influencing the nation.

            According to the other view, Nadav and Avihu adopted the precise opposite approach.  Namely, they chose to narrow the gap between the priesthood and the masses, between the realm of ordinary life and the sacred domain of the Mishkan.  By entering the Sanctuary to perform the avoda (service) immediately after drinking, Nadav and Avihu sought to demonstrate that they could be “one of the guys,” that the service in the Mishkan can be performed in the same context as festive, social gatherings.  They wanted to show that leadership does not require any degree of withdrawal or distance; their position as religious leaders did not require any sacrifice in their level of social involvement with the people.  To the contrary, it is through active socialization that they could reach the masses in the hope of affecting and influencing them.

            These different depictions of Nadav and Avihu thus teach that the proper model of religious leadership is somewhere in between these two extremes.  On the one hand, the leader must live an ordinary life, and enjoy the pleasures of family, friends and recreation just like other members of the nation.  At the same time, however, a certain distance must be maintained between the “kohanim” and others.  The prohibition of shetutei yayin, which forbids kohanim from serving in the Mishkan after drinking wine, indicates that serving in the Sanctuary entails a degree of social sacrifice.  The kohen may not proceed immediately from a party to the Mikdash, because there must be some separation and distance between him and the people he is to lead and inspire.  He is to be the same as other people, but also different from them; he is to lead a normal life, but a special life.  Setting an example requires maintaining the delicate balance between involvement and distance, between being together with the people and ensuring to remain separate and distinct.

David Silverberg

Friday

            Toward the end of Parashat Shemini, the Torah discusses several halakhot concerning tum’a and tahara – the laws of ritual purity and impurity.  Among the topics discussed is the concept of tum’at okhelin – the status of impurity obtained by foods that come in contact with a source of tum’a: “Any food that is eaten, upon which water comes, shall be impure” (11:34).  This means that once a food has been moistened with water or other liquids, it becomes susceptible to tum’a, and it can thus be rendered ritually impure if (even after it dries) it comes in direct contact with an animal carcass, for example.

            Rashi, commenting on this verse, cites a passage from Torat Kohanim (9:1) that notes the seemingly superfluous words, “that is eaten.”  Why does the Torah refer to food in this context as “food that is eaten”?  Torat Kohanim infers from this phrase that the status of tum’at okhelin depends upon a certain quantity of food.  A food that has obtained this status can transfer it to another food through contact, but only if it consists of at least a ke-beitza (the volume of an egg).  By emphasizing that we deal here with food “that is eaten,” the Torah indicates that it refers to an amount of food that can be eaten all at once, which the Sages determined to be a ke-beitza.  Accordingly, Torat Kohanim writes, a food can transfer the status of tum’at okhelin only if it comprises at least a ke-beitza.

            It appears from the straightforward reading of the Torat Kohanim that this restriction applies only to the ability of food to transfer the status of tum’at okhelin to other food.  This provision does not, however, set a minimum amount for obtaining the status of tum’at okhelin.  Meaning, a tiny morsel of food that comes in contact with an animal carcass obtains the status of tum’at okhelin, but if it then touches another food, that other food will not become ritually impure, since a ke-beitza is needed to confer this status upon other foods.  This is, indeed, the position taken by Rashi in his commentary to Masekhet Pesachim (33b), where he writes explicitly that there is no minimum amount required for obtaining the status of tum’at okhelin.  This is also the view of the Rambam, in Hilkhot Tum’at Okhelin (4:1).

            Rabbenu Tam, however, as cited by Tosefot (there in Pesachim and elsewhere), disagrees.  In his view, the minimum amount of ke-beitza is required not only for a food to transfer tum’at okhelin to another food, but also to obtain tum’at okhelin in the first place.  Rabbenu Tam concedes that the Sages enacted a provision rendering food susceptible to tum’at okhelin regardless of its volume.  However, as far as Torah law is concerned, a food does not obtain tum’at okhelin unless it comprises at least a ke-beitza.  This is also the view taken by the Ramban, in his Torah commentary.

            Among the questions raised against Rashi’s view relates to the verse from which the ke-beitza prerequisite is inferred.  As mentioned, Torat Kohanim derived this halakha from the phrase, “Any food that is eaten…shall be impure.”  The phrase “that is eaten,” Torat Kohanim explains, restricts this halakha to foods comprising a ke-beitza or more.  Clearly, the Torah here speaks of food becoming tamei, not of a food transferring tum’a.  If the amount of ke-beitza is stipulated in this verse, it seems, then this provision applies even to obtaining the status of tum’at okhelin, and not only to the possibility of transferring the status of tum’at okhelin.

            Rav Shimshon Rafael Hirsch, in his Torah commentary, notes that we might easily resolve this difficulty in light of a comment by Tosefot in Masekhet Pesachim.  Tosefot cite Rabbenu Yosef as claiming that although Rashi did not apply the ke-beitza prerequisite to a food’s obtaining the status of tum’at okhelin, Rashi would concede that a ke-beitza is required for the process of “hekhsher.”  As mentioned earlier, a food does not become susceptible to tum’at okhelin until it becomes wetted by water or another liquid.  According to Rabbenu Yosef, all opinions agree – including Rashi – that a food measuring less than a ke-beitza that is wetted for the first time does not become susceptible to tum’at okhelin.  The effect of “hekhsher,” whereby a food comes in contact with a liquid and thus becomes susceptible to tum’a, requires the quantity of a ke-beitza. 

If so, then we can easily reconcile Rashi’s view with the inference from the verse under discussion.  The concept of “hekhsher” is introduced in this verse – “Any food that is eaten, upon which water comes, shall be impure.”  Rashi would have no problem explaining the requirement of a minimum amount of a ke-beitza that is introduced in this verse, because this verse speaks of the process of a food’s becoming eligible for tum’a and then obtaining this status.  Even he agrees that this process requires the minimum quantity of a ke-beitza, even though a food that has already become eligible for tum’a can obtain tum’a even in an amount of less than a ke-beitza.

It should be noted that Tosefot infer from Rashi’s comments in Masekhet Chulin (82a) that he rescinded his position, and ultimately maintained that food amounting to less than a ke-beitza cannot become tamei according to Torah law.

David Silverberg