S.A.L.T. - PARASHAT BECHUKOTAI

By Rav David Silverberg

            Parashat Bechukotai begins by describing the blessings of prosperity that God promises to bestow upon Benei Yisrael in reward for their Torah observance.  Rashi, commenting on the parasha’s opening verse, famously writes that these blessings depend not only on Benei Yisrael’s observance of mitzvot, but also on their commitment to Torah study.  When the Torah writes, “Im be-chukotai teileikhu” (“If you follow My statutes”), Rashi claims, it actually means “she-tiheyu ameilim ba-Torah” – “that you toil in Torah.”  It is only in the subsequent clause – “ve-et mitzvotai tishmeru” (“and you keep My commands”) – that the Torah mentions the observance of commands.

            Many writers have noted that Rashi speaks not of simply “studying” Torah, but rather “toiling” in Torah.  The blessings hinge on not just learning, but the investment of hard work and effort in the pursuit of knowledge and comprehension of the Torah.

            It might seem surprising, at first glance, to find that Rashi again mentions “toiling” in Torah later in the parasha, commenting on the Torah’s introduction to the tokhecha – the warning of the horrors that God will bring upon Benei Yisrael if they disobey Him.  The Torah warns that these calamities will befall the people “if you did not listen to Me,” which Rashi explains to mean that the people fail to “toil” in Torah study.  To avoid the harsh consequences detailed in this section, we must commit ourselves to not only study Torah, but also “toil” in Torah.

            The Gemara in Masekhet Sota (35a) famously criticizes King David for a verse he wrote in Tehillim (119:54): “Zemirot hayu li chukekha” – “Your statutes were like song for me.”  God reacted angrily to this comparison between the Torah’s laws and music, which reflected an underestimation of the importance of the former.  It was on account of this offense, the Gemara relates, that God allowed David to err with regard to a straightforward halakha, as he had the ark transported by wagon, in violation of the Torah’s explicit command that it be transported on the Levites’ shoulders (“ba-kateif yisa’u” – Bamidbar 7:9).

            The Gemara here conveys the message that we must approach Torah study with the attitude of “ba-kateif yisa’u,” as a weighty responsibility that demands hard work and effort, and not as “music.”  While Torah learning certainly is often enjoyable and gratifying, this cannot be our primary motivation or expectation when we sit down to study.  If we approach Torah study as simply an enjoyable pastime, then we reduce it to “zemirot,” to the level of entertainment and amusement.  Chazal detected in David’s metaphor an inappropriate connotation of relaxation, comfort and recreation, and they warned us that our perspective on Torah study must follow the model of “ba-kateif yisa’u,” and not that of “zemirot hayu li pikudekha.”  We are bidden to spend time studying Torah even when we do not find it enjoyable, when we find it difficult and even frustrating, and when the subject matter does not strike us as especially interesting.  The obligation of Torah study is one of “ameilut,” rigorous toiling, and it must therefore never be undertaken for the sake of personal enjoyment and entertainment.

Sunday

            Among the rewards that the Torah promises in the beginning of Parashat Bechukotai is the blessing of “va-akhaltem lachmekhem la-sova” – “you will eat your bread for satiation.”  The plain meaning of this verse is that the land will produce enough food to enable all members of the nation to feel satiated; nobody will lack the food he needs to satisfy his appetite.  Rashi, however, citing Torat Kohanim, explains this verse to mean, “one eats a morsel and it is blessed in his belly.”  According to this interpretation, the Torah promises Benei Yisrael that they will not need large amounts of food to feel satisfied, as even small morsels will satisfy their needs.

            The Panim Yafot commentary, amidst his discussion of Rashi’s reading of this verse, mentions that in such a situation, where a person feels satiated after eating just a morsel of bread, he is obligated to recite birkat ha-mazon.  Although we generally assume that the Torah obligation of birkat ha-mazon applies only when one eats a substantial amount of bread that brings him satiation, the Panim Yafot asserts that the obligation takes effect even if one experiences satiation through a small morsel of food.  This is also the ruling of the Chatam Sofer, in his responsa (O.C. 49).

            The Maharam Shick (who was a disciple of the Chatam Sofer), in his work on the 613 mitzvot (mitzva 430), writes that this ruling of the Chatam Sofer will also affect another issue discussed by the Acharonim.  It is commonly assumed that one is obligated to recite birkat ha-mazon only if he eats a ke-zayit of bread within the time-frame known as “kedei akhilat peras” (generally defined as 4-9 minutes), as the halakhic definition of “eating” requires this rate of consumption.  There is a debate among the Acharonim as to whether one must recite birkat ha-mazon if he ate several “ke-zeitim” of bread over an extended period, but did not eat a ke-zayit within a “kedei akhilat peras” at any point during that period.  The Peri Megadim (Eishel Avraham, O.C. 210) ruled that one is required to recite birkat ha-mazon in such a case, since he experienced satiation.  Even though Halakha defines “eating” as the consumption of a “ke-zayit” within the period of “kedei akhilat peras,” and, as such, the individual in this case did not “eat” in the strict halakhic sense of the term, he must nevertheless recite birkat ha-mazon.

The Peri Megadim appears to work off the assumption that the sole determining factor in the Torah obligation of birkat ha-mazon is satiation, and not the technical act of “eating.”  If a person achieves satiation from bread, then he must recite birkat ha-mazon even if he has not “eaten” in the strict halakhic sense.  Indeed, the Chafetz Chayim, in his Sha’ar Ha-tziyun (210:10), questions the Peri Megadim’s ruling in light of the fact that the Torah requires reciting birkat ha-mazon only after one has eaten and achieved satiation (“ve-akhalta ve-savata u-veirakhta” – Devarim 8:10).  Seemingly, halakhic “eating” is indispensable for the mitzva to apply.  And the Minchat Chinukh (313 and 430) dismisses the Peri Megadim’s ruling, claiming that one would not be required to recite birkat ha-mazon in such a case.

The Maharam Shick writes that the Chatam Sofer would agree to the Peri Megadim’s ruling.  The Chatam Sofer, as mentioned, ruled that one must recite birkat ha-mazon if he experiences satiation after eating just a small morsel, indicating that in the Chatam Sofer’s view, the sole determining factor is satiation, and not halakhic “eating.”  As such, he would likely follow the Peri Megadim’s position, that one who achieves satiation without eating a ke-zayit within the time-frame of “kedei akhilat peras” would be required to recite birkat ha-mazon.

(Rav Chaim Dov Eisenstein, in his Peninim Mi-bei Midresha, Parashat Bechukotai, suggests distinguishing between the two cases, claiming that according to the Chatam Sofer, one who experiences satiation after eating a small morsel is considered to have “eaten” even according to the strict halakhic sense.  It thus does not necessarily follow that the Chatam Sofer would accept the Peri Megadim’s ruling in a case where one did not eat a ke-zayit within the period of “kedei akhilat peras.”)

Monday

            Parashat Bechukotai includes the section known as the tokhecha, a description of the horrors that God threatens to bring upon Benei Yisrael if they disobey Him.  Toward the end of this section, the Torah foresees the time when the nation will acknowledge their wrongdoing which has led to these dreadful calamities: “They shall confess their iniquity and the iniquity of their forefathers…” (26:40). Surprisingly, however, in the very next verse, God warns that the pattern of calamity will continue, rather than abate, in the wake of the people’s confession: “I, in turn, will treat them with hostility, and I will bring them to the land of their enemy; perhaps then their intransigent heart will be subdued…”  Many commentators addressed the question of why God responds to the people’s confession with additional retribution, rather than with compassion and forgiveness.

            The Ketav Sofer suggests that God does not accept the nation’s confession because it included “the iniquity of their forefathers.”  The confession which the Torah here foresees acknowledges both the wrongdoing of the people themselves, as well as the wrongdoing of their predecessors.  As such, the Ketav Sofer explains, the confession is halfhearted.  The people admit to acting wrongly, but they sense of accountability is diminished by the recognition that their sins were preceded by their parents’ sins.  They accept only partial guilt, casting the rest of the blame onto their forebears, who presented a model of iniquity which the children understandably followed.  Confession requires complete and sincere acceptance of responsibility, without excuses that soothe the conscience.  For this reason, the Ketav Sofer claims, the confession foreseen in this verse is not accepted.

            There is a limit to how much we can allow ourselves to attribute our vices, shortcomings and failings to our upbringing.  Modern psychology has found that certain negative tendencies indeed result from childhood experiences, but the Ketav Sofer’s insight reminds us that this kind of absolution can go only so far.  Mature, independent adults must accept responsibility for their decisions and their conduct regardless of how they were raised.  When we act improperly, the obligation of repentance demands accepting responsibility and acknowledging guilt, without looking to cast the blame onto others or onto extenuating factors.  Only then will our repentance be sincere and compassionately accepted by God, who will respond with kindness and forgiveness, rather than harsh retribution.

Tuesday

            We read in Parashat Bechukotai about the calamities that God threatens to bring upon Benei Yisrael if they neglect His laws, as well as the promise that despite the persecution and exile, the nation will never be annihilated.  God proclaims toward the end of this section that He will remember His covenant to the patriarchs even when He is compelled to banish us from our land and subject us to suffering on account of our wrongdoing.

            Rashi (26:42), citing earlier Midrashic sources (Midrash Chaseirot Ve-yeteirot), notes that in this proclamation, when God affirms His eternal commitment to the patriarchs, the name “Yaakov” is spelled unusually, with a letter vav.  As Rash famously observes, this marks one of five instances where the name “Yaakov” is spelled in this fashion.  Correspondingly, Rashi comments, the name “Eliyahu,” which is ordinarily spelled with a vav, appears five times in Tanakh without this letter.  Rashi explains – rather enigmatically – that Yaakov “took” five vav’s from Eliyahu as “security” to guarantee that Eliyahu will arrive to herald Benei Yisrael’s redemption.  The prophet Malakhi famously announced that Eliyahu will be sent to the Jewish people to prepare them for the final day of judgment, prior to our nation’s redemption.  Yaakov sought to guarantee that Eliyahu will fulfill this mission by seizing the letter vav from his name, and withholding it until Eliyahu comes to prepare Yaakov’s descendants for their final redemption.

            What might the Sages mean in their description of Eliyahu relinquishing a letter from his name as collateral? 

            There is another instance where Rashi speaks of a Biblical character losing a letter from his name, which may shed light on his comments regarding Eliyahu.  In Parashat Chayei-Sara (Bereishit 23:16), toward the end of the narrative of Avraham’s purchase of the Makhpela cave, the name “Efron” (the cave’s original owner who sold the property to Avraham) is spelled once without the letter vav.  Rashi comments that a letter was dropped from Efron’s name on account of his greed, as he requested from Avraham an exorbitant price for the property of Makhpela.  The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 58) elaborates further, citing in reference to Efron the verse in Mishlei (28:22), “The stingy man is frantic for wealth, and does not know that he will be overcome by shortage” (“Nivhal le-hon ish ra ayin ve-lo yeida ki cheser yevo’enu”).  In our S.A.L.T. series to Parashat Chayei-Sara, we suggested that Chazal here teach that material obsession results in the loss of part of a person’s essence.  When a person is “frantic for wealth,” when he is overcome by an insatiable lust for money, he loses a “letter of his name”; he forfeits part of his essence.  Such a person effectively reduces himself to a bank account number, or a portfolio, sacrificing his personal identity, and wasting time, energy and talent that could be used for personal development.  When Chazal speak of a person “losing a letter,” they likely refer to that person’s losing a dimension of his being, failing to achieve complete personal fulfillment.

            This might also be the Sages’ intent in describing the loss of a letter from Eliyahu’s name.  As a prophet, Eliyahu’s mission was to lead Benei Yisrael to repentance.  During his time here on earth, however, as we read in Sefer Melakhim, the nation was not prepared for his zealotry.  He decreed a three-year drought during which not a single drop of rain fell from the sky, and he brought fire from the heavens to kill the servants of King Achazyahu of the Northern Kingdom.  Am Yisrael was ill-prepared for such methods, and God therefore took Eliyahu from this world, later promising – through the prophet Malakhi – to return the prophet when the nation is in a position to have him lead them repentance.  The Sages teach that in the interim period, Eliyahu’s name is “missing”; his being is incomplete.  As his mission remains unfulfilled, he is himself unfulfilled.  As long as he has not brought Benei Yisrael to the level we need to reach – even though he cannot be blamed, as it is we who cause his return to be delayed – he is “incomplete.”

            If so, then Chazal here perhaps seek to impress upon us the importance of fulfilling our individual roles in the world.  If we leave our missions unfulfilled, then we “lose a letter,” we sacrifice part of our personal identity.  Our responsibilities are to be viewed as part of our very being, and thus failing to meet our responsibilities is akin to losing part of our identity, as our purpose in this world is unrealized.

Wednesday

            Toward the end of Parashat Bechukotai (27:10) the Torah presents the prohibition of temura, which forbids attempting to transfer the sacred status of a consecrated animal onto a different animal.  If a person consecrated an animal as a sacrifice, it is forbidden for him to declare that the halakhic kedusha should be transferred from that animal onto another.  The Torah adds that if a person does make such a declaration, then both animals are considered consecrated.

            The Mishna in Masekhet Temura (2a) establishes that one who violates the prohibition of temura is liable to corporal punishment (malkot).  Generally, a person who transgresses a Torah violation without committing an action (“lav she-ein bo ma’aseh”) is not subject to corporal punishment.  The prohibition of temura, however, as the Gemara (Temura 3b) explains, differs from other “inactive” violations, because one who violates the temura prohibition makes a declaration that yields practical halakhic consequences – the kedusha is extended to the second animal.  In this sense, the declaration is akin to an action, and therefore one who violates temura is subject to malkot.

            Later (4b), the Gemara notes that temura marks an exception to another well-established principle, as well.  Ordinarily, corporal punishment is not administered for violations of a “lav ha-nitak la-asei.”  This term refers to instances where the Torah imposed a mitzvat asei (“affirmative command”) upon a violator as a consequence of his transgression.  In the case of temura, the Torah commands one who violates this prohibition to treat both animals as consecrated (“ve-haya hu u-tmurato yiheyeh kodesh”).  Intuitively, then, we would have assumed that the violator is not subject to malkot, as the temura prohibition falls under the category of “lav ha-nitak la-asei.”  The reason why a violator is nevertheless subject to malkot, the Gemara explains, is because temura actually entails two prohibitions.  The Torah uses two different verbs in introducing this command – “lo yachalifenu,” and “lo yamir.”  A single mitzvat asei, the Gemara comments, does not undermine the malkot liability of two Torah prohibitions.  Therefore, the rule of “lav ha-nitak la-asei” does not apply, and violators of temura are liable to malkot.

            The Rambam, in codifying this halakha (Hilkhot Temura 1:1), cites this reason for why temura does not qualify as a “lav ha-nitak la-asei,” and also adds a second reason, which was apparently found in other versions of the text of the Gemara (see Lechem Mishneh).  The second reason claims that the mitzvat asei of temura is unique in that it does not apply to all people.  The Mishna (Temura 13a) establishes that if two people co-own a sacrificial animal, or if an animal had been consecrated on behalf of all Am Yisrael, and an attempt is made to transfer its consecrated status, the declaration is ineffective.  Although the one who made the declaration has transgressed the prohibition of temura, the mitzvat asei of treating both as sacred does not apply.  Therefore, the Rambam writes, the mitzvat asei associated with temura is deemed inferior, so-to-speak, and does not have the power to undermine the malkot liability for violating the temura prohibition.

            Tosefot (Temura 2a) raise the question of why violators of the temura prohibition are liable to only a single set of malkot.  The Mishna explicitly states that violators receive one set of malkot (“sofeg et ha-arba’im”), despite the fact that, as mentioned, there are actually two prohibitions included in this transgression (“lo yachalifenu,” and “lo yamir”).  At first glance, one who violates this law should receive two separate sets of malkot – one for each of the two prohibitions entailed.  Tosefot suggest two answers, the first of which concedes that one who violates temura indeed receive two sets of malkot.  Although the Mishna stated that the violator is subject to “forty [lashes]” (one set of malkot), Tosefot propose that the phrase is used here colloquially to mean simply that the transgressor is liable to malkot.  The Mishna did not mean that he receives specifically forty lashes.  In their second answer, Tosefot claim that a violator of temura is subject to only a single set of malkot.  They note that later in Masekhet Temura (9a), the Gemara interprets the two admonitions of “lo yachalifenu” and “lo yamir” as two different prohibitions, addressing two different situations.  The first refers to one who attempts to transfer the sanctity of somebody else’s animal, whereas the second speaks of transferring the kedusha from one’s own animal.  Therefore, a temura violator has, in truth, transgressed only one prohibition – either “lo yachalifenu” or “lo yamir,” depending on the circumstance – and he is therefore subject to only a single set of malkot.

            Rav Eliezer Lipman Lichtenstein, in his Shem Olam commentary to Sefer Vayikra, notes that the Rambam, in Hilkhot Temura, never mentions any distinction between transferring kedusha from one’s own animal and from another person’s animal.  Even more revealingly, in his Sefer Ha-mitzvot (lo ta’aseh 106), the Rambam combines “lo yachalifenu” and “lo yamir” into a single entry, clearly implying that the viewed them as expressing a single Torah prohibition.  Evidently, the Rambam did not view the Gemara’s distinction between the two clauses as authoritative, and ruled that both express the same prohibition.

Of course, this gives rise to the question of why, according to the Rambam, the mitzvat asei associated with temura does not undermine the malkot liability for this prohibition.  As mentioned, the Gemara (which the Rambam cites) upheld malkot  liability despite the presence of an associated asei by noting that an asei cannot affect malkot liability when two mitzvot lo ta’asei are involved.  According to the Rambam, though, temura actually constitutes only a single lo ta’asei, and it thus requires explanation why the rule of “lav ha-nitak la-asei” would not apply.

Thursday

            Yesterday, we noted the prohibition of temura which the Torah introduces in Parashat Bechukotai (27:10).  This prohibition forbids a person who had consecrated an animal, designating it as a sacrifice, from attempting to transfer its sanctity onto a different animal.  Even if one wishes to sacrifice a higher quality animal, he is barred from doing so.  And if a person does declare the transfer of the animal’s consecrated status, the original animal remains consecrated and the second animal becomes similarly consecrated.

            The Rambam, in his closing remarks to Hilkhot Temura (which are also his closing remarks to the Korbanot section of his Mishneh Torah), suggests a reason for this prohibition (after emphasizing that all mitzvot must be approached as inviolable divine decrees regardless of whether we understand their reasoning).  He writes that a person who consecrates an animal may later regret the financial loss entailed, and seek to limit the expense by exchanging the animal with a lower quality one.  The Torah therefore forbade any kind of substitution.  This includes substituting a low quality animal with a high quality one, because if this were allowed, people might likely allow themselves to also do the reverse.  The Rambam suggests that this is also the reason why one who donated property to the Temple treasury who then wishes to keep it must pay its full value plus an additional 20%, as the Torah establishes here in Parashat Bechukotai (27:13,19,27).  This halakha, too, was designed to discourage people from regretting their pledges and attempting to renege.  If the Torah had not required an additional fee for retrieving donated property, one might have attempted to pay the treasury a lower sum, below the property’s value, in exchange for the property.

            We might also view the temura prohibition in the broader context of the Torah’s general attitude toward all voluntary religious measures.  The Torah strictly demands upholding all pledges and voluntary commitments, and although Halakha provides the mechanism of hatarat nedarim for the annulment of vows, this institution is limited in scope and requires the individual to acknowledge that he misevaluated the situation.  Moreover, it is noteworthy that the Torah itself makes no mention of hatarat nedarim – it was transmitted solely through oral tradition – perhaps to emphasize the severity of breaking vows.  Consistent with this attitude toward self-initiated, voluntary commitments, the Torah discourages us from reneging on voluntary pledges to hekdesh in any manner, including substituting the consecrated animal with another.  The reason, perhaps, is that the Torah wanted us to make pledges and take on voluntary religious measures only after serious thought and consideration.  Too often, pledges and voluntary commitments are made spontaneously, on the spur of the moment, as a result of a sudden rush of inspiration.  Questions such as “Can I really handle this, or afford it?” “Is this the most meaningful way to serve my Creator?” “Who might I be unwittingly affecting by taking this on?” and “Do I already satisfy my basic obligations that I am ready to take on more?” are not thoroughly addressed.  The Torah encourages voluntary measures made after serious thought and reflection, that stem from a genuine, deep-seated sense of devotion to God, and not from a temporary emotional charge.  It therefore imposes restrictions and penalties when one seeks to renege, thus discouraging vows and pledges made without serious thought and planning.

            And from this attitude toward voluntary commitments we may perhaps learn about the proper attitude we should have to even our obligatory commitments.  We are to serve the Almighty out of a firm sense of duty, and not because we happen to “feel like it.”  Avodat Hashem must be manifest in a consistent, day-to-day commitment, and not in sporadic bursts of spiritual fervor.  Our sense of duty must never depend upon time, place, circumstance or mood, or any external factors, and must rather remain with us consistently each and every day throughout our lives, regardless of our situation and our current emotional state at any given moment.

Friday

            Amidst God’s warnings to Benei Yisrael of the catastrophic consequences of their neglecting the Torah’s laws, we find the warning, “I shall send pestilence among you, and you shall fall in enemy hands” (26:25).  Rashi, based on Torat Kohanim, explains the second clause in this verse – “you shall fall in enemy hands” – as a result of the first clause, which warns of pestilence.  Victims of the plague will die in the cities, and will have to be brought outside the city for burial.  Ordinarily, the burial would be delayed until it became safe to venture out of the cities, but deceased residents in Jerusalem must be buried that same day due to the halakha forbidding leaving a human corpse unburied overnight in the holy city.  The people will have no choice but to bring the bodies out for burial despite the dangers that lurk, and, as a result, “you shall fall in enemy hands.”

            The halakha of “ein malinim et ha-meit bi-Yerushalayim,” that forbids leaving a human corpse unburied overnight in Jerusalem, is mentioned in the Talmud (Bava Kama 82b) and gives rise to the question of how Jerusalem differs from other cities in this regard.  The Torah in Sefer Devarim (21:23) explicitly forbids leaving a human corpse unburied overnight, adding that doing so “contaminates your land,” clearly indicating that this applies throughout Eretz Yisrael, and not in any one specific city.  What, then, does the Gemara mean when it establishes a particular prohibition against allowing a corpse to remain unburied overnight in Jerusalem?

            The Shita Mekubetzet (there in Bava Kama) answers that whereas in Jerusalem a corpse may not remain unburied overnight under any circumstances, this is permissible in other areas for the purpose of kevod ha-meit (respect for the deceased).  If delaying burial is necessary to ensure a more respectful and dignified procession, then it is allowed, but not in Jerusalem.

            Rav Meir Dan Platzky, in his Keli Chemda, suggests that we explain Rashi’s comments on the basis of this distinction.  One might wonder, at first glance, why Rashi explained this verse as applying specifically in Jerusalem.  Since the prohibition against delaying burial applies in all areas of Eretz Yisrael, the curse of “falling in enemy hands” while burying the deceased is relevant everywhere.  This question is easily answered once we recognize that in areas other than Jerusalem, funerals may be delayed for the purpose of kevod ha-meit.  We may reasonably assume, the Keli Chemda writes, that avoiding enemy assault during a funeral procession qualifies as kevod ha-meit, as it serves to protect the honor and dignity of the deceased.  As such, in areas other than Jerusalem, the burial may be delayed as long as the threat of enemy attack outside the city remains.  (   Rav Chaim Dov Eisenstein, in his Peninim Mi-bei Midresha, adds that during wartime, people are naturally fearful of venturing outside the city for a funeral.  Therefore, funerals of pestilence victims will be much better attended if they are delayed, and thus in cities other than Jerusalem, such a delay was permissible, as it serves the purpose of kevod ha-meit.)

            The Keli Chemda further notes that in cities other than Jerusalem, there was the option of temporarily storing the deceased in a casket, until conditions outside the city improve and allow for safe burial.  The Torah obligation to bury a deceased person that same day is fulfilled through interment in a casket, thus providing a viable solution for times of war when burial outside the city was dangerous.  In Jerusalem, however, a dead body may not be kept overnight inside the city, even in a casket, and thus the city’s residents had no choice but to leave the safety and protection of the city’s walls to bury their dead, rather than wait for security conditions to improve.