S.A.L.T. - PARASHAT EMOR

By Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei

            Parashat Emor begins with the special laws that apply to the kohanim.  The Midrash (Vayikra Rabba) notes the juxtaposition between this series of laws and the command with which the Torah concludes the previous parasha, Parashat Kedoshim, which forbids consulting with ov or yid’oni – different types of divinations and spirits.  This juxtaposition between the priesthood and the prohibition of ov and yid’oni, the Midrash suggests, alludes to the story of King Shaul, who committed two grave offenses toward the end of his life.  He had the entire population of Nov, a city of kohanim, killed, and he consulted with a ba’alat ha-ov, a sorceress who communicated with spirits and brought the soul of the prophet Shemuel.  These two incidents are alluded to by the juxtaposition between the prohibition of ov and yid’oni, and the halakhot relevant to the institution of the kehuna.

            One of the roles served by the kohanim in ancient times was consulting with the urim ve-tumim oracle worn by the kohen gadol.  When a matter of national importance arose, such as the question of whether to embark on a military campaign, the question would be posed to the urim ve-tumim which would then provide God’s answer through the illumination of certain letters.  The Sages here note the irony in the fact that King Shaul executed the kohanim, thus losing access to the urim ve-tumim (which was brought to David by a refugee from the massacre), and, as a result, ultimately felt compelled to consult a ba’alat ha-ov.  When the Pelishtim amassed their army and were poised to attack Benei Yisrael, Shaul desperately sought guidance, and thus went to a ba’alat ha-ov to consult with the deceased prophet.  It was his impulsive and cruel decision to execute the kohanim of Nov that resulted in his consultation with the ba’alat ha-ov.

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, suggests a different point of connection between the laws of the kohanim and the prohibition of ov and yid’oni.  It is conceivable, he writes, that kohanim would be more prone to enlist the services of these devices than other people.  As the spiritual guides, the kohanim were often consulted for advice, especially by people in distress.  We can imagine that the people looked to the kohanim for support, encouragement and guidance during the more difficult and tumultuous periods of life.  And the kohanim, naturally, felt responsible to provide answers and solutions.  This burden of responsibility may have made it tempting for many kohanim to resort to forbidden means of superstition in their desire to provide clear-cut solutions.  The Torah’s ban on enlisting the services of ov and yid’oni certainly apply to all people, but it is presented just before the section of the kohanim as a particular warning to the kohanim against resorting to these devices as they seek to find answers to their constituents’ problems.

            Thus, the Torah reminds kohanim – and other spiritual guides and advisors – to exercise humility and recognize their own limitations.  People in leadership positions must be willing to say “I don’t know,” a confession that is far preferable to resorting to dubious, desperate measures in search for answers.  More generally, the prohibition of ov and yid’oni instructs all of us to acknowledge and accept the limitations on our knowledge and understanding of events.  We must be willing to admit that we do not know what will happen, or why past events happened, rather than search for illusory comfort in “ov and yid’oni” type answers.

Sunday

            The opening verses of Parashat Emor introduce the prohibition of tum’at kohanim, which forbids a kohanim from coming in direct contact with a human corpse.  For ordinary kohanim, an exception is made allowing a kohen to tend to the burial of immediate family members, whereas a kohen gadol may not expose himself to tum’at meit (ritual impurity caused through contact with a corpse) even for a family member’s interment.

            Intuitively, had the Torah not issued this prohibition, we may have assumed that to the contrary, specifically the kohanim, the nation’s spiritual elite and God’s attendants in the Mikdash, should perform burials.  This would, seemingly, bring greater honor to the deceased, and, moreover, it would appear befitting for a mitzva as important as burial to be reserved for the nation’s highest-ranking religious figures.  Why does the Torah forbid the kohanim from coming in contact with the dead, even for the purpose of the lofty mitzva of burial?

            One possible explanation relates to the often unavoidable emotional effect that this experience has on a person (as Rav Soloveitchik developed in a different context).  Encountering death often leaves a person with at least a tinge of despair and cynicism toward life and the world.  The sight of a lifeless body, and the unfathomable contrast between this sight and the energetic, hard-working and accomplished individual that the body once was, can result is a kind of negativity and listless indifference toward life, borne out of the realization of its very limited duration.  Contact with a human corpse can easily diminish a person’s vitality and enthusiasm, his sense of purposefulness and energetic ambition.

            For this reason, perhaps, the Torah forbids kohanim from exposing themselves to this experience.  The lethargy and cynicism that could result from such an encounter are the antithesis of the kedusha which the kohanim embody.  The kedusha expressed by the Temple and the kohanim is the awareness of standing in God’s presence as His devoted servant.  It means that life is a vital mission, that we are here to serve the King of kings, that we live for a meaningful purpose.  The kohanim, as God’s attendants in the Mikdash, must live at all times with vitality and purposefulness, recognizing their role as God’s servants and joyfully working toward achieving that goal.  The Torah therefore bars them from coming in contact with tum’at meit, to protect them from the negativity and cynicism that this experience can cause.

            And what is true for the kohanim applies as well to the rest of Am Yisrael, albeit in less extreme form.  While we are not forbidden from exposing ourselves to tum’at meit, the message of the kohanim, the vitality and enthusiasm that must characterize the life of a sincere eved Hashem, most certainly applies to all of us.  We must try to avoid the pitfall of despair and negativity, and maintain our vigor and joy in serving the Almighty throughout our lives.  Even if we do not serve in the Mikdash, we must see ourselves as living in God’s presence, and exult in the privilege we are given to serve our Creator.

Monday

            The Torah in Parashat Emor presents the mitzva of the korban ha-omer, the special barley offering that was brought in the Beit Ha-mikdash each year on the 16^th of Nissan, the second day of Pesach (23:10-13).  The first omer of barley that was harvested was brought for the sacrifice, together with an animal offering, and the offering of this sacrifice made it permissible to partake of the newly-harvested grain.

            The Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 28) emphasizes the unique importance of this mitzva:

Do not look lightly upon the mitzva of the omer [offering], for it was because of the mitzva of the omer that our patriarch Avraham had the merit of acquiring the land of Canaan.  This is what is meant when it says (in Bereishit 17:8), “I shall give you and your offspring after you the land in which you reside” – on the condition that “you shall keep My covenant” (ibid. 17:9).  Which [covenant] is this?  The mitzva of the omer.

According to the Midrash, Benei Yisrael’s right to our ancestral homeland depends upon this mitzva of the korban ha-omer.  It is through this offering that we uphold our end of the covenant made with Avraham, such that God will uphold His end, as it were, and allow us to remain peacefully and prosperously in Eretz Yisrael.

            Why did Chazal afford such importance to this mitzva?  What is it about the korban ha-omer that makes it the linchpin, so-to-speak, of our possession of the land?

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, explains that the korban ha-omer expresses the nation’s gratitude to the Almighty for the new barley harvest, as opposed to the wheat harvest, which is celebrated on Shavuot (see, for example, Shemot 34:22 – “bikurei ketzir chitim”).  As Chazal indicate in several contexts, wheat constituted the primary grain product, whereas barley served a secondary role, and was generally used as animal fodder.  What is significant about the korban ha-omer is the fact that we express our gratitude to God for the barley He has provided for us, even as we still anxiously await the wheat harvest that will begin later in the spring.  The korban ha-omer teaches us to be grateful for even partial success, even if all our desires and aspirations have yet to be fulfilled.  We thank the Almighty for the barley, for the secondary yield, even as the outcome of the wheat harvest, our primary asset, still remains unknown.  This mitzva teaches us to celebrate our minor successes, to appreciate even the little we have, regardless of whether we achieve full satisfaction.

            The Midrash instructs that our possession of Eretz Yisrael depends upon this quality, which is represented by the korban ha-omer.  We can live and prosper in our homeland only if we can appreciate and give thanks for the “barley,” without always demanding the “wheat.”  Our success in building, developing and cultivating Eretz Yisrael depends upon our ability and willingness to celebrate what is good even if it is far from perfect, to praise the Almighty for what He has done for us rather than lamenting what He has not.

            Today, we still anxiously await the “wheat harvest,” we recognize that the Jewish State is far from the ideal country for which we long and pray.  But we certainly have already seen the “barley harvest,” remarkable achievements and successes, and we have much for which to be thankful.  Our continued growth and success in Eretz Yisrael depends on our grateful recognition of all that the Almighty has done for us thus far, even as we hope and pray for our full redemption.

Tuesday

            The Torah in Parashat Emor introduces the mitzva of sefirat ha-omer, which requires counting forty-nine days from the sixteenth of Nissan, the day of the omer offering, a period that culminates with the celebration of Shavuot on the fiftieth day (23:15).  The Behag, cited by Tosafot (Menachot 66a), famously rules that if a person missed a day of counting, then he does not count the remaining days of the omer period.  This ruling is based upon the Torah’s requirement to count “sheva shabbatot temimot” (“seven complete weeks”).  If the counting is incomplete, the Behag maintains, then the mitzva – which requires counting seven “complete” weeks – cannot be properly fulfilled.  As such, there is no purpose served in continuing to count.  Tosafot disagree, and consider the Behag’s ruling a “teima gedola” (a very difficult opinion to sustain).  In their view, one counts each night of the omer regardless of whether he counted the previous nights.  This is the view of many other Rishonim, as well

The Shulchan Arukh (O.C. 489:8) famously rules that one who missed a day of counting should count on the subsequent days, though without reciting a berakha.  Unfortunately, there is a common misconception that once a person forgot to count a day of the omer, he has lost the mitzva and he does not have to bother counting on the subsequent nights.  The Shulchan Arukh explicitly rules that one should continue to counting, as many Rishonim held that the mitzva on any given night does not depend upon the previous nights.  Thus, one who has forgotten to count a day of the omer must still count on the subsequent nights, even though the berakha is omitted in deference to the view of the Behag, according to whom the berakha would constitute a berakha le-vatala (a berakha recited in vain).

Leaving aside the practical halakhic issues involved, it is hard to overlook the symbolic significance of the Behag’s ruling as it relates to the broader message of the omer period.  This period is commonly understood as the time of preparation for accepting the Torah on Shavuot, the bridge that extends from the Exodus to Sinai, during which we prepare ourselves for the transition from subjugation to “Pharaoh,” to foreign ideals and values, to our subjugation to the Almighty.  This is the period in which we work to break free from the various “chains” that bind us, so we can commit ourselves unconditionally to God.  The Behag’s view, according to which the mitzva cannot be fulfilled if even a single day is missed, perhaps reflects the totality with which we must make this commitment.  It underscores the fact that our status as God’s servants does not depend on any time-frame, and it remains applicable and fully in force each and every day of our lives.  Our relationship to God cannot be compartmentalized; we cannot devote ourselves to Him on some days but not others.  The provision of temimot, as understood by the Behag, reminds us that our obligation to God is constant, and not dependent upon time or circumstance.  And just as, in the Behag’s view, the mitzva of counting is forfeited if even a single day is missed, similarly, any “exception” we try to make in our commitment to God entirely undermines that commitment, and leaves us back where we began – as servants of “Pharaoh,” rather than servants of our Creator.

(See Rabbi_Meir_Orlian’s “‘Temimot’ in Sefirat Ha’Omer”

Wednesday

            Yesterday, we noted the famous ruling of the Shulchan Arukh (O.C. 489:8) concerning the case of a person who missed a day of counting during the omer.  Many Rishonim maintained that each day’s counting is independent of the other days, and thus a missed day has no effect at all upon the subsequent days.  Accordingly, the Shulchan Arukh rules that one should count the omer each night even if he had missed a day or several days of counting.  However, in deference to the view of the Behag and some Ge’onim that a missed day undermines the fulfillment of the mitzva of sefirat ha-omer, one should not recite a berakha over the counting if he had missed a day.  Since this berakha would constitute a berakha le-vatala (berakha recited in vain) according to the Behag, and in light of the fact that one fulfills a mitzva even without reciting a berakha, it is best in this situation to count without a berakha.

            An interesting offshoot of this discussion is the question concerning the status of all the berakhot that one had recited before sefirat ha-omer prior to the missed day of counting.  The Chid”a, in his Avodat Ha-kodesh (7:217), writes that if a person misses a day of counting, then, according to the Behag, all the berakhot he had recited before counting on the previous nights are retroactively deemed berakhot le-vatala.  Since he is now unable to fulfill the mitzva of sefirat ha-omer (in the Behag’s view), the berakhot that he had recited over this mitzva have, in retrospect, been recited in vain.  The practical implication of this claim involves a person who knows ahead of time that he will have to miss a day of counting.  This can happen in a situation where one scheduled an operation requiring him to be completely anesthetized, or otherwise incapacitated, for an entire day.  Realizing ahead of time that he will miss a day of counting, this individual should, according to the Chid”a, count the omer without a berakha even before undergoing the procedure, in deference to the Behag’s ruling.  Any berakha he recites over the omer counting is destined to become a berakha le-vatala (according to the Behag), and therefore the berakha should be omitted.  Needless to say, he should still count each night, both before and after the operation, just as one must count even after missing a day of counting, but the berakha should be omitted.

            Some Acharonim drew proof to the Chid”a’s theory from a brief comment by Tosefot in Masekhet Ketubot (72a), concerning a different halakhic counting.  The Torah requires a zava (a woman who experienced an unusual menstrual flow) to count seven days after the cessation of bleeding before she can resume her status of ritual purity (“ve-safera lah shivat yamim” – Vayikra 15:28; nowadays, all menstruant women must observe this seven-day period).  Tosefot raise the question of why a woman does not recite a berakha before this counting, as is required before other situations of a halakhically mandated counting.  The answer, Tosefot suggest, is that a berakha is required before an obligatory counting only if that counting is absolute, and not dependent upon external factors.  In the case of a zava, the sighting of blood during the seven-day period of counting disrupts the purification process and mandates beginning a new counting.  Such a counting, Tosefot assert, does not warrant the recitation of a berakha.

            Tosefot’s answer can be understood to mean that a zava does not recite a berakha before counting given the risk that the counting would be disrupted by a renewed menstrual flow, in which case her berakhot would be retroactively considered to have been recited in vain.  This explanation of Tosefot’s comment is suggested by the Noda Bi-yehuda (Tanina, Y.D. 123).  Accordingly, the case of a zava closely resembles the situation of a person who anticipates having to miss a day of omer counting, and he, too, should refrain from reciting a berakha given the likelihood that the berakha would retroactively become a berakha le-vatala.

            We may refute this proof in several ways.  For one thing, if we extend this comparison between omer and zava to its logical conclusion, it turns out that one should never recite a berakha over the omer, just as a zava never recites a berakha when counting her seven days.  Tosefot did not say that a woman should not recite a berakha if she has reason to anticipate recurring bleeding; rather, they worked off the assumption that no zava ever recites a berakha, due to this risk.  If we accept the comparison, then, we should conclude that no person should ever recite a berakha over the omer given the risk of forgetting to count one day – something which of course no halakhic source mentions or even entertains.

            It is likely that – in contradistinction to the Noda Bi-yehuda’s reading – Tosefot’s comment does not relate at all to the risk of a zava’s berakhot becoming berakhot le-vatala.  Rather, Tosefot maintained that a dependent counting differs fundamentally from an independent counting.  As the omer counting is always required on the same forty-nine days and does not depend on any external factor, it has a much different status than the counting of a zava, which is intended to establish the cessation of bleeding.  The precise distinction can be formulated in different ways, but in any event, this distinction relates to the objective halakhic definition and classification of these different countings, and not the practical concern that a berakha might be retroactively invalidated.

            Indeed, many Acharonim disputed the Chid”a’s ruling, and maintained that a person should recite a berakha over the omer counting even if he knows in advance that he will miss a day of counting.  (See Piskei Teshuvot, 489:22 and footnotes 104-105.)

Thursday

            In our previous two editions of “S.A.L.T.” we noted the famous ruling of the Shulchan Arukh (O.C. 489:20) concerning one who missed a day of counting during the omer.  The Shulchan Arukh rules that such a person should continue counting on the subsequent nights of the omer, in accordance with the ruling of many Rishonim that each night’s counting is independent of the other nights.  However, in deference to the view of the Behag, who held that a missed day of counting undermines the proper fulfillment of the mitzva of sefirat ha-omer, as one is no longer able to count forty-nine days, the Shulchan Arukh rules that the berakha should be omitted on the subsequent nights.

            The work Piskei Teshuvot (siman 489, note 99) cites the Otzar Ha-chayim as recording that the students of the Ba’al Shem Tov had the practice to count the omer with a berakha even after missing a day of counting.  In contrast to the ruling of the Shulchan Arukh, these Chassidic masters felt that a berakha should be recited over the counting even in the case of a missed day.

            Piskei Teshuvot proceeds to cite the work She’arim Ha-metzuyanim Ba-halakha as proposing a possible halakhic basis for this Chassidic practice, whereby it may perhaps be reconciled with the Shulchan Arukh’s ruling.  The majority view among the Rishonim appears to be that each night’s counting stands independent of the other nights, such that a missed day of counting has no bearing on one’s obligation on subsequent nights.  And although the Shulchan Arukh’s ruling, that the berakha should be omitted in deference to the minority opinion of the Behag, seems to be the preferred solution in such a case, it comes with a certain risk.  Namely, less knowledgeable people may mistakenly interpret this ruling as indicating that in truth the mitzva has been forfeited, and the counting on subsequent nights is required as a kind of vestigial commemoration with no real halakhic significance.  As such, they will likely neglect to count after missing a day, thus forfeiting the mitzva which, according to the majority view, remains in full force even after a day is missed.  The aforementioned Chassidic masters perhaps felt that although the Shulchan Arukh’s ruling is fundamentally correct, nevertheless, in their time, in light of the unfortunate, widespread ignorance of Halakha, it was necessary to implement the policy of counting the omer with a berakha even after a missed day, as people in this situation would otherwise likely stop counting altogether.

Common practice, of course, follows the view of the Shulchan Arukh in this regard.  Nevertheless, Rav Shemuel Wosner, in his Shevet Ha-levi (3:96), allows relying on the aforementioned Chassidic custom in some situations.  He addresses the case of a rabbi who customarily counts the omer aloud before the congregation counts (as is the practice in many synagogues), but happens to miss a day of counting.  The rabbi might understandably fear that his stature and respect in his congregation would be compromised if he discontinues his public counting because he can no longer count with a berakha.  His congregants may look upon him with a degree of disrespect or even ridicule if they discover that he missed a day of counting.  In such a situation, Rav Wosner, in the interest of preserving the rabbi’s honor and standing in his congregation, he may rely on the Chassidic practice and continue counting the omer with a berakha, even though he had missed a full day of counting.

Friday

            It is customary to count sefirat ha-omer only after reciting the evening arvit service.  The common explanation for this practice, as the Bei’ur Halakha (beginning of 489) cites from the Chok Yaakov, is based upon the famous principle of “tadir ve-she’eino tadir tadir kodem,” which means that a more frequent mitzva should be performed prior to a less frequent mitzva.  As the mitzvot of shema and prayer apply more frequently than the mitzva of sefirat ha-omer, we first complete the arvit service before proceeding to the mitzva of sefirat ha-omer.

            An interesting question arises in the situation of a person who arrives late for arvit, just as the congregation counts the omer.  Should he count with the congregation, and then recite arvit, or, should he follow the customary sequence of first reciting arvit and only then counting the omer, privately?  (This question also arises if the individual arrives just as the congregation begins reciting the amida, in which case he should recite the amida with the congregation and then recite shema with its berakhot.  Here, too, the question becomes whether after the amida he should count the omer with the congregation, or first recite shema and its berakhot and then count the omer.)

            Essentially, this question involves the conflict between two interests, or two halakhic values – the value of tadir, and the value of counting the omer together with the congregation.  The importance of counting the omer with a congregation, rather than privately, is established by the Shela (Pesachim), as cited by several later authorities (see Be’er Heitev 489:20).  The question in our case becomes whether or not this value overrides the value of tadir – performing the more frequent mitzva before the less frequent mitzva.

            Rav Yitzchak Weiss, in his Minchat Yitzchak (9:56), rules that the individual in this situation should count the omer together with the congregation and then recite arvit.  He notes that besides the value of counting with the congregation, we must also consider the view of Rav Yaakov Emden (in Mor U-ktzi’a, cited by the Bei’ur Halakha, ibid.) that the rule of tadir does not apply in the case of sefirat ha-omer and arvit.  Rav Yaakov Emden claimed that since some authorities view sefirat ha-omer as a Torah obligation even nowadays, after the Temple’s destruction, it should, in principle, be performed before arvit, whose recitation is required only on the level of rabbinic enactment, irrespective of the issue of frequency.  (Rav Yaakov Emden therefore suggested a different reason why common practice is to recite arvit before counting the omer.)  Later Acharonim challenged this theory (noting, among other things, that the shema recitation is clearly a Torah obligation), but, according to the Minchat Yitzchak, it should be taken into account as we weigh the consideration of tadir against the value of counting with the congregation.  Since the relevance of tadir in this context is itself subject to some controversy, we should give precedence to the interest in counting with the congregation.

            Others, however, dispute this ruling, claiming that we accept the relevance of tadir in this context, and that the value of tadir overrides that of counting with a minyan.  Rav Moshe Sternbuch, in his Teshuvot Ve-hanhagot (vol. 1, 310 and vol. 2, 248), suggests drawing proof from a recorded incident involving the Sha’agat Aryeh.  Once, in the Sha’agat Aryeh’s community, the moon was not visible due to cloud cover for the first two weeks of the month, thus precluding the possibility of reciting kiddush levana.  On the final night when kiddush levana could be recited, the moon became visible, but the congregation had yet to recite arvit.  The Sha’agat Aryeh ruled that the congregation should first recite arvit, because of the principle of tadir, even though this posed the risk of forfeiting that month’s recitation of kiddush levana, as the moon may again become covered by clouds in the interim.  Rav Sternbuch contends that if tadir applies even at the risk of forfeiting the mitzva of kiddush levana, then it should certainly override the value of counting sefirat ha-omer with the congregation.  In his view, then, one should always recite arvit before counting the omer, even at the expense of counting with a congregation. 

(Taken from Piskei Teshuvot, 489:3)