S.A.L.T. – PARASHAT SHEMINI – PURIM

By Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei Shabbat

            The first Mishna in Masekhet Megila delineates the different days on which the Megila is read.  Whereas in most locations the mitzva is performed on the 14^th of Adar, cities that were fortified by a wall at the time of Benei Yisrael’s initial conquest of Eretz Yisrael observe the mitzva on the 15^th, the day on which the Jews of Shushan celebrated their victory.  The Talmud Yerushalmi explains that this provision was established in order to give respect to the Land of Israel, which was largely desolate at the time of the Purim miracles.  Rather than establish simply that all walled cities celebrate the festival on the 15^th, the Sages decided to make the determining factor the presence of a wall at the time of the nation’s conquest of the Land of Israel.  In this way, special significance is given to certain cities of Eretz Yisrael in the Purim celebration.

            A number of commentators (Rabbenu Ovadya of Bartenura, and others) noted that in formulating this halakha, the Mishna speaks of cities that were surrounded by a wall “since the time of Yehoshua bin Nun.”  Rather than mention simply that these cities were surrounded at the time of kibbush ha-aretz (the conquest of Eretz Yisrael), the Mishna chose to make mention of Yehoshua.  The commentators suggested that the Sages specifically associated Yehoshua with the Purim celebration because of his role as the first general to lead a battle against Amalek, the nation from which Haman descended.  When Amalek attacked Benei Yisrael, Yehoshua was assigned the task of leading the war (Shemot 17:8), and when God proclaimed His eternal war against Amalek, He instructed Moshe to convey this information specifically to Yehoshua (“ve-sim be-oznei Yehoshua” – 17:14).  As Yehoshua was named the first leader of Benei Yisrael’s struggle against Amalek, it was deemed appropriate for him to be associated with the Purim celebration.  The Sages therefore referred to the walled cities singled out for the special observance of the 15^th of Adar with the term “surrounded by a wall since the time of Yehoshua bin Nun.”

            What might underlie this association between Yehoshua and the struggle against Amalek?

            The nation of Amalek invaded Benei Yisrael shortly after the miracles of the Exodus and the splitting of the sea, as Benei Yisrael made their way toward Har Sinai.  As Rashi famously cites from Chazal in his Torah commentary (Devarim 25:18), Amalek “cooled” (“karekha”) the mystique that surrounded the Israelite nation in the wake of the miracles performed for them.  Just when Benei Yisrael began to soar to the greatest heights of success and prominence, Amalek came to knock them down.  Amalek resented Benei Yisrael’s success and sought to disrupt it.  In this sense, Amalek signifies jealousy and the resentment of other people’s success, the attempts to ruin great achievements rather than emulate them and advance them further.

            Yehoshua is often portrayed as a humble, unassuming student.  The Torah (Shemot 33:11) refers to him as a na’ar (“lad”) and as Moshe’s “mesharet” (“servant”).  Moreover, the Midrash (Bamidbar Rabba 21:15) famously relates that Yehoshua assumed the menial task of arranging the benches in Moshe’s study hall.  And Targum Yonatan (Bamidbar 13:16) indicates that Yehoshua’s exceptional humility prompted Moshe to pray on his behalf before he and the other eleven spies embarked on their mission to scout Eretz Yisrael. 

            Yehoshua thus represents the quality of choosing virtue over ego, concerning oneself with doing what’s right rather than achieving fame and stature.  It is the humble student who stays behind to sweep and clean up who signifies the resistance to Amalek, the tendency to interfere with the achievements of others to protect one’s ego.  Amalek cannot bear to see others succeed because they want to steal the spotlight, whereas Yehoshua has no interest in the spotlight.  The battle waged between Amalek and Yehoshua is the struggle between virtue and petty arrogance, between sincerely caring for the advancement of the world, and caring only for one’s personal advancement.  Amalek refused to allow others to overshadow them; Yehoshua was perfectly content serving the role of “mesharet.”  Of course, this contrast continues in the Megila, as well, as Haman could not be satisfied as long as there was one subject in the king’s court who refused to bow, whereas Mordekhai disregarded the effects of his disobedience on his reputation and standing among the other men in the palace courtyard.

            We must eradicate the memory of Amalek because they threatened to undermine the advancement of the world.  Am Yisrael was chosen and brought out of Egypt for the purpose of creating a special nation that would raise all mankind to the recognition of God and to a higher moral standard, and Amalek refused to allow this to happen, to allow another nation to excel and accomplish.  The struggle against Amalek is thus the struggle against selfish egotism.  It reminds us that we must all work together to advance our common goals, and we should never feel threatened by, or resentful of, the success and achievements of our peers.

(Based on Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg’s Musar Ha-mishna, Megila 1:1)

Sunday

            The Gemara in Masekhet Megila (16b) states that when one reads the Megila on Purim and reaches the point where it lists the names of Haman’s sons (9:7-9), he should read them in a single breath, to commemorate the fact that Haman’s sons were all killed and hung together.  This halakha is codified in the Shulchan Arukh (O.C. 690:15).

            The Mishna Berura (690:52) cites the Chayei Adam as observing the custom in some communities that the entire congregation reads the verses which list the names of Haman’s ten sons before the reader.  The Chayei Adam rejected this practice.  Indeed, it appears that this was not the prevalent custom during the time of Rama, as he omits these verses from his list of verses in the Megila that the congregation should read together before the reader (690:17).  Nevertheless, this custom has spread and is indeed quite prevalent.

            Different theories have been proposed to explain the reason why some congregations read the names of Haman’s sons aloud before the reader.  Most famously, Rav Yosef Rosen (the Rogatchover Gaon) explained this practice on the basis of a comment of the Beit Ha-levi.  The Beit Ha-levi claimed that there is an inherent limitation on the law of shomei’a ke-oneh, which allows one to be considered as having read a text by listening to somebody else’s recitation.  In his view, the concept of shomei’a ke-oneh applies only to the actual recitation, but not to the manner of recitation.  In situations where Halakha prescribes a specific way in which a text must be recited, one must recite the text personally, and cannot fulfill his requirement by hearing somebody else recite it.  One can fulfill his requirement to recite a text through listening, but cannot thereby fulfill his obligation to recite in a specified manner.  Accordingly, the Rogatchover suggested, one cannot fulfill the obligation to read the names of Haman’s sons in a single breath by listening to the reader, and therefore everyone personally reads these verses to fulfill this halakha.

            It should be noted, however, that several later writers disputed the Beit Ha-levi’s theory.  The Chazon Ish (O.C. 29:3) noted the halakhic requirements to read the Megila specifically from a scroll, and to read it in an audible voice, which one fulfills by listening to somebody else’s reading.  By the same token, it should be acceptable to fulfill the obligation to read the names of Haman’s sons in one breath by listening to the reader.  Furthermore, in codifying this halakha, the Shulchan Arukh, based on the Rambam’s formulation, writes that these names are read in a single breath “to let it be known that they were all killed and hung as one.”  If the purpose is to inform the congregation of this detail, then it stands to reason that this halakha is, from the outset, directed exclusively toward the reader.  The congregation bears no obligation to read the names of Haman’s sons in a single breath, because the purpose of this requirement is to publicize the fact that they were killed together, and this responsibility is naturally assigned specifically to the reader.  Others noted the Mishna’s ruling in Masekhet Bikkurim (3:7) allowing one to fulfill the mitzva of mikra bikkurim – the reading of a series of verses when bringing one’s first fruits to the Mikdash – by listening to somebody else’s reading.  Although Halakha requires reading these verses aloud, this mitzva is nevertheless subject to the provision of shomei’a ke-oneh, seemingly indicating that this rule applies even to the manner of recitation.

            Rav Moshe Sternbuch (Teshuvot Ve-hanhagot, 2:358) suggests a simpler and more intuitive explanation of this custom, namely, that the concern arose that the reader would not properly enunciate each word of these verses.  In his rush to complete all the names in a single breath, he might mumble or slur one or more of the words, and therefore, as Halakha requires hearing or reading each word of the Megila, the custom arose for the congregation to carefully read all the names before the reader.

(See Rav Aryeh Lebowitz’s comprehensive discussion of this halakha.)

Monday

            We read in Parashat Shemini of the special sacrifices that Aharon offered on the eighth and final day of the Mishkan’s inauguration, which was the first day he officiated as a kohen.  The Torah tells that after Aharon completed the sacrificial rituals, he lifted his hands toward the people and blessed them (9:22).  The Mishna in Masekhet Sota (38a) interprets this verse as a reference to birkat kohanim (the priestly blessing), citing it as the source for the requirement that a kohen lifts his hands while reciting this blessing.  According to Tosafot’s reading of the Gemara, this verse also establishes that birkat kohanim is recited only in the context of avodat tzibur – a public sacrifice offered on behalf of the entire nation.  Just as here in Parashat Shemini Aharon recited birkat kohanim in the context of the special sacrifices offered on this day, which were offered on behalf of the nation, similarly, birkat kohanim is always recited only in the framework of public sacrifices.  Thus, Tosafot write, the kohanim in the Mikdash would administer birkat kohanim during the offering of public sacrifices such as the daily tamid sacrifices and the musaf sacrifices on Shabbat holidays, but not during the offering of private sacrifices brought by individuals.

            If, indeed, birkat kohanim is restricted to the context of avodat tzibur, then we must seemingly conclude that the recitation of this blessing outside the Temple, and certainly after the Temple’s destruction, is not required on the level of Torah obligation.  After all, once we impose this restriction on the application of this mitzva, then its observance in other contexts must be viewed as a rabbinic extension of the Torah obligation.  This is, indeed, the view of Rav Yaakov Emden, in his work Mor U-ksi’a, cited by the Mishna Berura (in a footnote to 128:44).  The Mishna Berura, however, strongly rejects this theory, citing numerous sources proving that birkat kohanim applies on the level of a Biblical obligation even outside the Beit Ha-mikdash.

            The question, thus, remains, if the mitzva of birkat kohanim applies only in the specific context of avodat tzibur, then how can it be extended even outside the Mikdash?

            Rav Yaakov of Karlin, in his Mishkenot Yaakov (O.C. 86), suggests that the answer lies in the Rambam’s famous contention that the mitzva of tefila constitutes a Torah obligation.  The daily prayers correspond to the daily public sacrifices, and they, too, qualify as “avoda.”  Hence, the condition that birkat kohanim be administered in the context of avodat tzibur is fulfilled through the congregational prayer service, just as it is through the offering of public sacrifices.  Once we accept the premise that daily prayer constitutes a Torah obligation, we can understand the provision that the Torah obligation of birkat kohanim requires the context of an “avoda,” which the prayer service provides.

            Rav Yaakov of Karlin’s brother, Rav Yitzchak of Karlin, cites this theory in his Keren Ora commentary to Masekhet Sota (38a).  He questions, however, whether the Rambam’s famous view concerning the Biblical source of the prayer obligation will help answer this question concerning birkat kohanim.  The Rambam explicitly defined the Torah obligation to prayer as any private prayer spoken to God; it was the Sages who established the specific text and formalized structure of the prayer service.  Certainly, the congregational prayer service was enacted by the Sages, and is not required on the level of Torah law.  The question thus remains how the Torah could command the kohanim to bless the people in the context of an avoda outside the Mikdash.  The Keren Ora writes that it would indeed appear that birkat kohanim outside the Temple is required only on the level of rabbinic enactment, though he acknowledges that this is not the implication of earlier sources.  He leaves this as an unresolved question.

            (See Rav Herschel Schachter’s “When Do We ‘Duchen’?” at http://torahweb.org/torah/2007/parsha/rsch_shmini.html)

Tuesday

The Torah in Parashat Shemini tells the tragic story of Nadav and Avihu, Aharon’s two older sons who offered an unwarranted offering in the Mishkan on the final day of its inauguration, a violation for which they were killed (10:2).  The Midrashim and other sources offer numerous different theories to identify the precise nature of the sin committed by Nadav and Avihu, suggesting that their severe punishment was incurred not by the offering itself, but rather as a result of some other violation.  Among the offenses attributed to Nadav and Avihu is their performing a ritual service in the Mishkan without wearing the full set of bigdei kehina, thee priestly garments (Vayikra Rabba 20:9). 

            On one level, failing to don the bigdei kehuna before performing the avoda (ritual service) may reflect a general tendency of impatience.  They impatiently rushed to perform the desired ritual without taking the time to do it properly, according to the prescribed protocol.  We might thus associate this wrongdoing with another offense attributed to Nadav and Avihu, namely, that they entered the Sanctuary to perform this ritual without washing their hands and face, as is required (Vayikra Rabba 20:5).  This, too, may have likely been a function of sheer impatience, their rushing to act without taking the time to satisfy the preliminary requirements.

By the same token, several sources indicate that Nadav and Avihu committed the transgression of “moreh halakha bi’fnei rabam” – reaching a halakhic conclusion without consulting their rabbi.  They felt that their offering was halakhically mandated, and they did not consult with Moshe on this matter.  While we might instinctively view this independent halakhic ruling as an expression of arrogance, the Chafetz Chayim, in his commentary to Torat Kohanim, writes, “Their sin was that they ruled themselves on a matter of Halakha and did not wait for their rabbi, Moshe, to teach them this.”  The Chafetz Chayim emphasizes that “they did not wait” to receive halakhic instruction.  They acted not necessarily out of arrogance, but out of impulsivity.  It was not their pride that prevented them from consulting Moshe, but rather their impatience.  They decided they wanted to bring an offering, and they rushed to do it without taking a moment to verify its propriety.

The tragedy of Nadav and Avihu thus conveys the simple lesson that everything we do in religious life must be carefully calculated and thought through.  Many of the mistakes we make in our Torah observance result from plain impatience, from our unwillingness to take the time to determine the halakha relevant to the situation, to consider the repercussions of our actions, or to do what we are doing the right way.  The tragic end of Nadav and Avihu could have been avoided had they had the patience to consult with their rabbi, and to make the necessary preparations before bringing their offering.  This incident thus reminds us not to rush in our performance of mitzvot, and to take the time we need to make sure that we do it right and in strict accordance with halakhic protocol.

Wednesday

            The opening verse of Parashat Shemini informs us that on the eighth and final day of the milu’im ceremony, Moshe assembled Aharon, his sons, and the “elders of Israel.”  In the subsequent verses, we read of Moshe’s instructions to Aharon regarding the special sacrifices that would be offered on that day, which marked his and his sons’ first day as kohanim.  We do not, however, find any instructions given to the elders at this meeting.  Why did Moshe include the elders, if he spoke only to the kohanim?

            The simplest answer, perhaps, as suggested by Chizkuni and Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor, is that the elders attended as representatives of the nation.  On this day, Aharon offered a chatat and ola offering on behalf of all Benei Yisrael, in addition to his personal sacrifices.  A delegation was needed to serve as the official representation of Benei Yisrael in this process, as sacrifices were offered on their behalf.

            Rashi, citing the Midrash Tanchuma, suggests a different explanation, claiming that Moshe spoke to the elders to make it clear that this appointment of Aharon and his sons as kohanim was made by God.  Moshe anticipated the accusation that the designation of Aharon and his sons was driven by nepotism, and he therefore summoned the nation’s elders to clarify to them – as the nation’s representatives – that this designation was made by God Himself.

            A different Midrashic passage (Vayikra Rabba 11) cites this verse as one of several contexts in which God singled out the nation’s elders for special distinction, in order to give them honor and emphasize the important role they serve.  The Midrash here cites Rabbi Akiva’s comment, “Israel is compared to a bird; just as a bird cannot fly without wings, similarly, Israel cannot do anything without their elders.”  According to the Midrash, then, we do not need to identify a particular function served by the elders in this context.  They are included here, as they are in several other contexts, because of the general critical role they serve.

            How might we explain the analogy drawn by Rabbi Akiva between the elders and wings of a bird, and how does this analogy relate to the context of the Mishkan’s inauguration?

            The role of the elders is to “elevate” the people, which requires, among other things, reminding them of the loftier purpose of what they do.  People are prone to becoming overly focused on the day-to-day struggles and vanities of life that they overlook the higher, more significant goals that they ought to pursue.  A bird can survive without wings, but it cannot extend beyond its present realm without wings.  The role of the leaders is to elevate the people by lifting them above the mundane rigors of life and alerting them to life’s higher purpose.

            If the Midrash noted this analogy in this context of the Mishkan’s inauguration, it stands to reason that the elders’ role expressed through this analogy is applicable even with regard to the Mishkan and the sacrifices.  Even here, the leaders are needed to “elevate” the people and direct their attention toward the significance of what they are doing.  The people might lose sight of the higher purpose of the sacrificial rituals, and approach them as a kind of mechanical ritualistic exercise without recognizing their deeper meaning.  The elders were assigned a special role on the day of the Mishkan’s inauguration, charged with the task of reminding the people of the true purpose of this entire enterprise – to affect their daily lives in a meaningful and profound way.  Even when it comes to something inherently sacred like the Mishkan, we need “wings” to elevate us above the day-to-day routine and show us the higher purpose behind it all.

(Based on Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg’s Yalkut Yehuda)

Thursday

            Earlier this week, we noted the comment in the Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 20:9) that Aharon’s two older sons, Nadav and Avihu, were killed because they entered the Mishkan in a state of “mechusarei begadim” – without the priestly garments.  Although from the Torah’s account (10:1-2) it appears that the two brothers were killed for bringing an unwarranted incense offering, Chazal name several other transgressions for which they were guilty, including the violation of “mechusarei begadim.”

            A person’s attire relates to his outward appearance, as opposed to his true essence.  Although one’s clothing often reflects his inner being, the two are fundamentally separate and distinct from one another.  Clothing is about form, rather than substance.  It helps shape the image that other people see, but does not affect the person internally.  The image created by one’s attire may or may not be an accurate reflection of who he is; his clothing will always be external to his true essence.

            The obligation of bigdei kehuna, which establishes the particular manner in which the kohanim must be dressed while officiating in the Mishkan, indicates that the Torah ascribes importance even to outward appearance, to form, and not just to substance.  Of course, what matters most is who a person and how he conducts himself, rather than how he looks.  But although appearance matters less, it still matters.  In this sense, the bigdei kehuna are consistent with the general pattern of strict, rigid protocol that characterizes the avoda (ritual service) in the Mishkan.  The Mishkan (and, later, the Beit Ha-mikdash) was not established as a site where anybody can come and express his devotion to God in any manner he chooses.  The service in the Mishkan follows a very strict protocol.  The primary purpose of it all, without doubt, is its effect on a person’s mind, heart and conduct, and numerous prophecies were directed against the unfortunate phenomenon of strict adherence to ritualistic protocol without a concomitant genuine devotion to God.  However, the ritualistic protocol is also deemed critically important.  The Torah demands both substance and form.  The focal point is certainly a person’s character and essence, but this primacy does not mean that the structure and formality can be dismissed as irrelevant or superfluous.

            For this reason, perhaps, we find the violation of “mechusarei begadim” associated with the sin of Nadav and Avihu.  Their act of bringing and unauthorized offering reflects a disregard for protocol, for the formality and structure of the service in the Mishkan.  Just as the garments are external to a person’s essence, similarly, the strict protocols of the Mishkan are external to the essential purpose of committing oneself to the Almighty.  And Nadav and Avihu felt that both could be done away with.  They believed that God wants only substance, and not form, that we can and should assume the liberty to serve Him without any restrictions or guidelines.   Their tragic death reminds us that the Torah indeed demands that we strictly follow its detailed system of formalities and procedures, that our devotion to God is expressed through our adherence to this system.  Certainly, we must never lose sight of the forest while dealing with the trees, but we must also remember that there can be no forest without trees.  Avodat Hashem requires “bigdei kehuna,” a particular structure and detailed system of formalities that must be followed for our service of God to be deemed valid and meaningful.

Friday

            The opening section of Parashat Shemini tells of the events that transpired on the eighth and final day of the milu’im ceremony, the day on which Aharon functioned as a kohen for the first time.  Moshe instructs his brother, “Approach the altar and perform your sin-offering and your burnt-offering…” (9:7).  According to the plain reading of the text, Moshe here simply instructs Aharon to begin the day’s rituals by approaching the altar, where the sacrifices are to be slaughtered.  As the Ramban notes, the ola (burnt-offering) and chatat (sin-offering) must be slaughtered specifically on the north side of the altar, and thus Moshe tells Aharon to proceed to the designated location to begin the sacrificial rituals.

            Chazal, however, in Torat Kohanim, detect in this verse an element of hesitation on Aharon’s part.  Moshe needed to instruct, “Approach the altar” because Aharon was ambivalent.  Torat Kohanim offers two possible reasons for Aharon’s ambivalence.  First, Torat Kohanim compares Aharon on this day to a woman chosen to marry a king, who experiences anxiety before her wedding.  According to this analogy, Aharon’s anxiety stemmed from a general sense of awe, his recognition of God’s infinite greatness and its contrast to the human condition.  Just as an ordinary woman would feel anxious before marrying a king, similarly, Aharon had doubts concerning his worthiness and ability to properly serve as the Almighty’s “chief attendant” in the Mishkan.

            Torat Kohanim then proceeds to record a different explanation of Aharon’s hesitation, namely, that when he looked upon the altar, and saw the four protrusions on its corners, they resembled in mind the horns of an ox, which instantly reminded him of the golden calf.  At that moment, Aharon recoiled, afraid that the stain of his role in that debacle disqualified him from assuming the role of kohen gadol.  It was only after Moshe reassured him that God has singled him out for this role that he overcame his anxiety and proceeded to the altar to assume the role of priesthood.

            The Ramban cites those who claim that it was the Satan who showed Aharon the vision of an ox.  The horns of the altar did not automatically evoke this association to the incident of the golden calf.  Rather, the Satan, working tirelessly and cleverly to interfere with the process of the establishment of the kehuna, attempted to sow discouragement by displaying before Aharon the vision of a calf.

            The reference to Satan indicates to us that Chazal seek to draw our attention to a common manifestation of the yetzer ha-ra, natural vices and weaknesses that we must work to overcome.  In this instance, the Sages speak of the “Satan” of past mistakes and failures.  We are often haunted by the stains on our record, by the memories of past deeds that refuse to vanish.  Like Aharon, we are often hesitant to “approach the altar,” to move on, to accept the fact that we are capable of achieving greatness despite our prior failings.  We have a tendency to find ourselves stuck in the past, mired in guilt, unable to muster the confidence needed to move forward.  Appropriate feelings of shame and guilt for our wrongdoing can easily develop into debilitating anxiety, which prevents us from setting and pursuing ambitious goals.

            Torat Kohanim thus reminds us that stains on our record do not necessarily disqualify us from “approaching the altar.”  Just as God chose Aharon to serve as kohen gadol despite his imperfect record, similarly, He wants us to serve Him despite our failings and imperfections.  He specifically gave the Torah to us, to flawed human beings, inviting us and insisting that we function as “kohanim,” as His servants.  Even if we occasionally fail – and we all do – we are nevertheless invited and required to “approach the altar,” to assume the responsibilities assigned to God’s “kingdom of priests and sacred nation,” and ignore the sinister efforts of the “Satan” to sow discouragement and anxiety.