Shavuos 5780: Torah and the Limits of Human Intellect

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Mind Unbound, by Jason Felix

Shavuos 5780: Torah and the Limits of the Human Intellect 

The Mysterious Case of the Incomprehensible Haftarah 

The haftarah for Shavuos morning is the infamous first chapter of Sefer Yechezkel. Known as Maaseh Merkavah (the Work of the Chariot), this nevuah (prophecy) is considered to be one of the deepest and most cryptic passages in all of Tanach. Its meaning is so abstruse that there are halachos governing how and to whom it is expounded, as the mishnah in Chagigah 2:1 states: “One may not expound … on Maaseh Merkavah in the presence of [even] one [student], unless he is wise and intuitively understands with his own mind.” 

To appreciate just how incomprehensible this haftarah is, here is an excerpt: 

I looked and saw a stormy wind coming from the north, a great cloud and flashing fire, surrounded by a radiance and within it was something that looked like chashmal within the fire. Within it there were four creature-like shapes. This was how they looked: they had the shape of a human. Each had four faces, and each had four wings. Their feet were straight feet, and the bottoms of their feet were like the bottom of a calf’s hoof, sparkling like burnished bronze. [They had] human hands beneath their wings on their four sides, and the four had faces and wings; their wings were intertwined. They did not turn when they moved; each [could] move in the direction of [any of] its faces. Their faces were shaped like a man’s, with a lion’s face on the right of each of the four of them, an ox’s face on the left of the four of them, and the four of them had an eagle’s face. Their faces and wings were separated above; each had two [wings] linked to one another and two covering their bodies. Each moved in the direction of its faces. They went wherever the spirit drove them, and they did not turn as they moved. (Yechezkel 1:4-12)

Every Shavuos morning, upon the conclusion of this haftarah, someone inevitably makes a joke to the effect of, “Did you get all that?” or “Simple!” or “Crystal clear!” 

This raises a question that I have every Shavuos: If virtually nobody can understand this nevuah, and if even those who can understand it are forbidden to explain it, then why do we read it in public as the haftarah of Shavuos? And I don’t mean to ask: “What is the source?” or “What is the halachic rationale behind the selection of this haftarah?” I mean: “What is the point of reading something that is both intellectually and halachically inexplicable?” 

The Other Merkavah 

A couple centuries prior to Yechezkel’s nevuah, Yeshayahu ha’Navi also had a nevuah which is referred to as “the Merkavah.” Here it is in its entirety: 

In the year of King Uzziah’s death, I saw the Lord sitting upon a high and lofty throne, and its legs filled the Temple. Seraphim were standing above, at His service. Each one had six wings: with two it would cover its face, with two it would cover its legs, and with two it would fly. And one would call to another and say, “Kadosh, kadosh, kadosh [1] is Hashem, Master of Legions; the whole world is filled with His glory.” The doorposts moved many cubits at the sound of the calling, and the Temple became filled with smoke. (Yeshayahu 6:1-4) 

Yechezkel’s vision of the Merkavah is described in great detail over the course of 28 pesukim whereas Yeshayahu’s description is only four pesukim long. Nevertheless, Chazal maintained that Yeshayahu’s nevuah was the greater of the two, as the Gemara in Chagigah 13b states: 

Rava said: Everything that Yechezkel saw was seen by Yeshayah. To what can Yechezkel be compared? To a villager who saw the king [and for whom such a sighting was rare]. And to what can Yeshayah be compared? To a city-dweller who saw the king [and who was accustomed to seeing the king on a more frequent basis]. 

Rashi [2] explains: “a city-dweller who [frequently] sees the king isn’t bewildered and isn’t amazed, and [therefore] doesn’t care to report [what he saw in great detail].” The Radak [3] goes further, explaining the metaphor’s implications about the relative levels of these two neviim: 

In other words, Yechezkel reported the details of these phenomena because it was extremely novel to him … but Yeshayah only described them in general terms, since he was more perfected than Yechezkel and this vision wasn’t as novel to him. 

And yet, despite being the more profound of the two prophetic visions, Yeshayahu’s Merkavah is even more familiar to the average Jew than Yechezkel’s. Why? Because an embellished version of it was incorporated into the daily davening in the berachos of Krias Shema: 

[The angels] all accept upon themselves the yoke of heavenly kingship from one another, and grant permission to one another to sanctify the One Who formed them, with tranquility, with clear articulation, and with sweetness. All of them as one proclaim His kedushah and say with awe: “Kadosh, kadosh, kadosh is Hashem, Master of Legions, the whole world is filled with His glory!” (Yeshayahu 6:3). Then the Ofanim [4] and the Chayos ha’Kodesh with great noise raise themselves towards the Seraphim; facing them, they give praise, saying: “Blessed is the glory of Hashem from his place” (Yechezkel 3:12). 

Our question about the haftarah of Shavuos is even stronger if asked about this part of davening: Why did the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah (The Men of the Great Assembly) select one of the most recondite prophetic visions and make it a centerpiece of our daily davening? What did they expect us to understand? What Jew comprehends the distinction between Ofanim, Chayos ha’Kodesh, and Seraphim? Who understands what it means for angels to “accept upon themselves the yoke of heavenly kingship from one another” or “grant permission to one another to sanctify”? Who can explain what it means for angels “to praise” or even “to know”? 

I’m not the only one who is bothered by the inclusion of such incomprehensible statements in our davening. Ibn Ezra [5] excoriates ha’Kalir [6] and other paytanim (liturgical poets) for incorporating enigmatic statements, allegories, and sodos (deep ideas) into the prayer service. Ibn Ezra maintains that the language of tefilah should be straightforward. He writes: 

Why don’t we learn from Shlomo [ha’Melech], who was not surpassed by anyone wiser, and yet, his tefilah that he davened is readily coherent; anyone who knows Hebrew can understand it, and it contains no enigmas or metaphors. The same is true of the tefilah of Daniel, [despite the fact that he] was a “solver of riddles” (5:12). They only davened with clear statements, and they were wise men – all the more so regarding the masses of men who daven and are not wise! [7] … 

[Furthermore,] all of [ha’Kalir’s] liturgical poems are filled with aggados and midrashim [which are allegorical and contain statements that are not meant to be taken at face-value], but the Sages said: “no verse departs from its straightforward meaning.” If so, then it is not proper to daven with anything other than pshat (a straightforward meaning), [and it is not proper to daven] with something that contains a sode, or an allegory … 

Granted, Ibn Ezra’s criticisms were only directed at those paytanim who introduced their own compositions into the liturgy. He certainly wouldn’t object to the tefilos and berachos composed by the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah. Yet, in light of his objections to the paytanim for their use of esoteric material, one wonders why one of the most esoteric prophetic visions was made into the centerpiece of the berachos of Krias Shema for every Jew to say. What are we supposed to get out of this? 

An Answer to Our Second Question … 

I recall an answer to this last question that was given by my Rosh Yeshiva. [8] He said that the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah incorporated this description of the angelic host praising Hashem in order to remind us that the human intellect is not supreme. 

The Torah maintains that mankind is the greatest species on earth – the only creature with a tzelem Elokim (truth-seeking intellect capable of grasping abstract concepts). Yet, man’s mind is qualitatively inferior to that of the angels, as David ha’Melech states: “You have made [frail man] but slightly less than the angels, crowning him with soul and splendor” (Tehilim 8:6). 

Even Moshe Rabbeinu, the greatest human being who ever existed, was unable to obtain positive knowledge of Hashem, due to the limitations imposed by his physicality, as it is stated: “[Hashem] said, ‘You will not be able to see My face, for no human can see Me and live’” (Shemos 33:20). In contrast, the Rambam [9] writes about the angels: 

All of these immaterial forms (i.e. angels) are alive and comprehend the Creator, and know Him with a great and exceeding knowledge. And each and every immaterial form [knows the Creator] in accordance with its level, but not in accordance with His [true] greatness. Even the highest level [of angel] is unable to completely grasp the reality of the Creator as it really is, due to its deficient mind. 

But it comprehends and knows more than that which is grasped by the immaterial form beneath it; and likewise for each and every level, until the 10th level. And the 10th level also knows the Creator with a knowledge that human beings - who are comprised of a material body and an immaterial form - are not able to comprehend and know like it. But none [of these beings] knows the Creator as He knows Himself. 

In other words, there is a hierarchy of knowledge: animal intelligence is incapable of grasping abstract concepts; human intelligence can grasp abstract concepts, but cannot obtain positive knowledge of that which is purely immaterial; angelic intelligence can grasp that which is purely immaterial, but not fully; only the Creator truly knows Himself. 

Why is concept relevant to mention in the berachos of Krias Shema? I don’t remember what my Rosh Yeshiva said on this particular point, but I would say as follows. Krias Shema is referred to by Chazal as kabbalas ole malchus shamayim (lit. “acceptance of the yoke of heavenly kingship”), which is an acknowledgment of Hashem’s Oneness. [10] This may be the highest level knowledge we can have of the Creator, but we must not fall into the trap of thinking that it is the highest level of knowledge. By prefacing our kabbalas ole malchus shamayim with an acknowledgment of the kabbalas ole malchus shamayim of the angels, who “all accept upon themselves the yoke of heavenly kingship from one another,” we remind ourselves that as humans, our knowledge is imperfect, and we can’t even grasp what it means for the angels to have knowledge of Hashem and praise Him. 

… Which Answers Our First Question 

I believe that my Rosh Yeshiva’s answer to our second question also answers our first question. What is the point [11] of reading the Maaseh Merkavah, which almost nobody can understand, as the haftarah on Shavuos? To remind us that as much Torah we think we understand, a complete grasp of Torah is entirely beyond us. 

I wrote about this at length in my article, The Limits of Our Understanding of Torah, in which I cited the second paragraph of the Ralbag’s Introduction to Torah [12]: 

It is vital not to lose sight of the fact that it is impossible for us to completely apprehend the chochmah (wisdom) and chaninah (beneficence) which is manifest in the Torah’s existence. Rather, we have very little knowledge of this, and we are exceedingly ignorant – just as we have very little knowledge of the wisdom and beneficence which is manifest in the nature of all existing things; we apprehend very little of the chochmah in their design, as is evident to those anyone who has intensively studied the natural sciences, and who recognizes the gap between our theoretical models of the laws of the universe and their reality … It therefore follows from the fact that the Torah is divine – namely, that it is from Hashem, as is known to all people today – [that its nature will also be incompletely understood], even though it is the absolute truth. 

There is only one human being who completely understood Torah: Moshe Rabbeinu. And even his understanding was restricted by the limitations of his physicality, which prevented him from having positive knowledge Hashem. 

Shavuos is Zman Matan Toraseinu, a celebration of the giving of the Torah. [13] If we were to mistakenly think that our intellect is supreme, and that a full comprehension of the Torah is within our grasp – even theoretically, if not practically – then our view of Torah would be fundamentally flawed. Hashem set up boundaries around Har Sinai, “lest [the people] break through to Hashem to see, and a multitude will fall” (Shemos 19:21). At the event of Matan Torah there was a danger that Bnei Yisrael would overestimate their own abilities, push themselves beyond their limitations, and be irreparably harmed. The same is true in our own acceptance of Torah on a daily basis. 

On the celebration of Matan Torah we remind ourselves of our limited ability to grasp Torah by reading a passage of Torah which nobody but the most delusional and haughty individual could possibly think he or she fully understands. This reminder keeps our ego and our self-knowledge in check, which in turns, helps make us worthy to accept the Torah. 

So next time you hear Maaseh Merkavah being read in shul on Shavuos, and you find that you don't understand a single thing, remind yourself that that is precisely the point.

[1] The word “kadosh” is typically translated as “holy,” which is an anathema to me. Seeing as how ק.ד.ש. means “separate” and in relation to Hashem it means “separate from physicality,” I prefer to translate “kadosh” as “transcendent” – but if I translated “kadosh, kadosh, kadosh” as “transcendent, transcendent, transcendent,” then I’d get weird looks from people in shul.
[2] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Chagiga 13b
[3] Rabbeinu David Kimchi (Radak), Commentary on Sefer Yeshayahu 6:1
[4] “Ofanim,” “Chayos ha’Kodesh,” and “Seraphim” are types of angels. See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Yesodei ha’Torah 2:7 for a comprehensive list and ranking.
[5] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra, Commentary on Sefer Koheles 5:1
[6] From Wikipedia: “Eleazar ben Kalir, also known as Eleazar HaKalir, Eleazar ben Killir or Eleazar Kalir (c. 570 – c. 640) was a Byzantine Jew and a Hebrew poet whose classical liturgical verses, known as piyut, have continued to be sung through the centuries during significant religious services.”
[7] I expect someone to object to my reading of the Ibn Ezra on the grounds that he’s referring specifically to using metaphors like referring to Hashem as a lion (based on Hoshea 11:10) or fire (based on Devarim 4:24). Yes, one can argue that his critique is limited to a specific kind of metaphor-usage. Nevertheless, one can also argue that this objection stems from the sort of nitpicking which misses the main point. That’s my argument.
[8] Regrettably, I do not recall where, when, or in what context I heard this explanation. I hope I am conveying it accurately, but it is entirely possible that I am not. Take it with a grain of salt.
[9] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Yesodei ha’Torah
[10] See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Sefer ha’Mitzvos: Mitzvas Aseh #2. Incidentally, if anyone tries to claim that kabbalas ole malchus shamayim refers to the acceptance of mitzvos, this line from tefilah is a good disproof. The angels most definitely know God’s Oneness, but they do not “accept” His mitzvos.
[11 Again I will remind you that I am NOT answering the question, “What is the halachic rationale for this reading?” I am answering the practical question, “What are we supposed to get out of it?”
[12]Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershon (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis: Introduction to Torah
[13] Among other things. See my article Shavuos is NOT About Matan Torah for other views.

Bamidbar: The Terminal Bachelorhood of Nadav and Avihu

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Bamidbar: The Terminal Bachelorhood of Nadav and Avihu 

The census of the Leviim (Levites) begins with Aharon and his sons: 

These are the names of the sons of Aharon: the firstborn was Nadav, and Avihu, Elazar, and Itamar. These were the names of the sons of Aharon, the anointed Kohanim, whom he inaugurated to minister. Nadav and Avihu died before Hashem when they offered a strange fire before Hashem in the Wilderness of Sinai, and they had no children; Elazar and Itamar ministered during the lifetime of Aharon, their father. (Bamidbar 3:2-4). 

The question is: Why does the pasuk (verse) emphasize that Nadav and Avihu “had no children”? This information seems irrelevant in a census, the point of which is to count actual children rather than children-that-never-were. 

The pshat (straightforward) answer given by most commentators is that the first half of the pasuk preemptively explains the end of the pasuk: “Elazar and Itamar ministered during the lifetime of Aharon, their father.” If Nadav and Avihu had sons, these sons would have inherited the prestigious positions of adjunct Kohanim Gedolim [1] (high priests) from their fathers. Since they didn’t have sons, these positions passed on to their brothers, Elazar and Itamar. 

A different answer kind of answer is stated in the midrash: [2]

One who does not engage in [attempting to fulfill the mitzvah of] peru u’revu (“be fruitful and multiply”) is liable for death, as it is stated: “Nadav and Avihu died, and they did not have children” – [implying] that if they had children, they would not have died. 

This midrash is aggadic (non-legal) rather than halachic (legal), and is clearly not intended to be taken literally. According to halacha, one who does not engage in peru u’revu is not actually liable for death. Furthermore, Nadav and Avihu didn’t die because they neglected peru u’revu, but because they “offered before Hashem a strange fire that He had not commanded them” (Vayikra 10:2). This is clear from the fact that each and every time the deaths of Nadav and Avihu are mentioned in Tanach, this is reason given for their death. 

If so, the question is: What does this midrash mean when it says that if Nadav and Avihu had children, they wouldn’t have died? 

The Torah Temimah [3] offers the following explanation: 

This is to be understood in light of Taanis 4a, which says: “Yaakov Avinu didn’t die” because “his offspring are alive, and therefore, he is not considered to be dead,” and Bava Basra 116a which states: “Why does it say ‘lying down’ for David’s death but ‘death’ for Yoav? Because David left behind a son, like him, [whereas Yoav did not].” Here, too, the intent is that if [Nadav and Avihu] had sons, [these sons] would have served in their place … and if that had been the case, it wouldn’t have mentioned the deaths [of Nadav and Avihu because they would “live on” through their sons]. 

This explanation aims to connect the midrashic interpretation of our pasuk to the pshat explanation stated above. The “lives” of Nadav and Avihu were defined by their avodas Hashem (Divine service) in their position of adjunct Kohanim Gedolim. If they had sons, and their sons succeeded them in this role, then this “life” of theirs would not have ended. 

However, there is a harsher midrashic [4] take on the causal relationship between the childlessness of Nadav and Avihu and their fate: 

“and they had no children” – but if they did have children, they wouldn’t have died. Nadav and Avihu were aristocratic, [5] saying: “Our father is Kohen Gadol, our father’s brother is a king, our mother’s brother is a prince, and we are the two chiefs of the Kehunah (priesthood). Which woman is good enough for us?” and they withheld themselves and didn’t desire to marry any woman to fulfill peru u’revu. That sin caused them to die by fire. 

An even more condemnatory version of this midrash [6] elaborates on their sin: 

R’ Levi said: [Nadav and Avihu] were exceedingly aristocratic. They would say, “Which woman is good enough for us?” There were many lonely [7] women sitting and waiting for them, but they said: “Our father’s brother is a king, our father is a Kohen Gadol, our mother’s brother is a prince, and we are chiefs of the Kehunah. Which woman is good enough for us?”

Rebbi Menachma [8] said in the name of Rebbi Yehoshua bar Nechemiah: regarding [Nadav and Avihu] David said: “Fire consumed His young men, and His maidens had no marriage celebrations” (Tehilim 78:63). Why were “His young men consumed by fire”? Because “His maidens had no marriage celebrations.” 

Another [proof can be brought] from: “To Moshe He said, ‘Go up to Hashem, you and Aharon, Nadav and Avihu” (Shemos 24:1). This teaches that Moshe and Aharon would walk ahead, Nadav and Avihu would walk behind them, and all of Israel were behind them, and they (i.e. Nadav and Avihu) would say, “When will these two old men die, so that we can exert our authority over the community in their place?” 

These alternative midrashic accounts shed quite a different light on the notion that Nadav and Avihu died because “they had no children.” According to these midrashim, it wasn’t the transgression of abstaining from peru u’revu per se which made them liable. Rather, it was the aristocratic bearing which gave rise to this transgression and warranted this punishment. 

The problem is that these midrashim make Nadav and Avihu out to seem like they had some real serious problems! Are we really to believe that these sons of Aharon ha’Kohen took such petty pride in their own status and in the status of their family members? Did they really think that no woman was good enough for them, knowing full well that Moshe and Aharon each got married, despite their greatness? Most astounding of all, are we really supposed to believe that Nadav and Avihu eagerly awaited the deaths of their beloved father and their illustrious uncle so that they could seize power to lord over the community? It is quite difficult to accept this portrait of Nadav and Avihu at face value. Remember that these are the individuals whom Hashem referred to as, “My close ones” (Vayikra 10:3) [9], and who were second only to Moshe and Aharon in their proximity to the divine glory at Sinai (see Shemos 24:1,9). 

In my view, the answer is: no, Nadav and Avihu were not the pompous megalomaniacs depicted in these midrashim. Rather, I believe this is a case in which the midrashim employ the device of exaggeration in order to make a point, as Chazal [10] said: “The Torah spoke in an exaggerated language, the Prophets spoke in an exaggerated language, and the Sages spoke in an exaggerated language.” 

This stylistic device of magnifying the imperfections of tzadikim is frequently employed by the pesukim themselves in order to make it easier for us to learn from their flaws, which would otherwise be too subtle for us to appreciate. For example, the pesukim say: “Reuven went and slept with Bilhah, his father’s concubine” (Bereishis 35:22), “Samson went down to Timnath, and in Timnath he saw a woman of the daughters of the Philistines [and married her]” (Shoftim 14:1), “Shlomo built an alatar for Chemosh, the abomination of Moav, on the Mount facing Jerusalem, and for Molech, the abomination of the Children of Amon” (I Melachim 11:7). According to the traditional interpretations, none of these tzadikim committed the serious transgressions described in the pesukim. All of these narratives are exaggerations of transgressions or flaws which were much less severe, and which are blown out of proportion for rhetorical and didactic effect. And if the pesukim themselves are known to do that, then certainly the aggadic midrashim can be expected to follow suit. 

I believe that the authors of these midrashim would acknowledge that Nadav and Avihu died because they “offered before Hashem a strange fire that He had not commanded them,” as the pesukim explicitly state. Having acknowledged that, the authors of these midrashim are theorizing about the personal shortcoming which led to this severe transgression. Based on the information provided in the pesukim, the authors of these midrashim maintain that Nadav and Avihu had an underlying sense of aristocratic pride in their roles as adjunct Kohanim Gedolim, which gave them the unconscious feeling of superiority, and derived incidental gratification from the power they held. In other words, these were not open faults in their character. If they were, the Torah would have been more explicit in divulging such information which would be critical in order to understand why they died. It is quite possible that this deep-seated streak of aristocratic pride didn’t manifest itself outwardly at all. 

According to these midrashim, it was this underlying feeling of pride which led Nadav and Avihu to “make a halachic decision in the presence of Moshe, their teacher” [11] by offering the “strange fire” without being commanded. It was this unconscious aristocratic mentality that caused them to defer marriage and procreation on the pretext of not finding suitable wives. It was this idle musing about who might take over as the nation’s spiritual leaders after Moshe and Aharon died which arose in their imagination when they stood on the mountain and “saw the God of Israel” (Shemos 24:10) and which nearly prompted divine retribution, as it is stated: “against the great men of Israel He did not stretch out His hand” (Shemos 24:11). 

How are we to understand their punishment? According to the pshat, they died by fire because they brought a “strange fire,” midah kneged midah (measure for measure). But perhaps according to these midrashim one can see a different level of midah kneged midah which corresponded to their underlying flaw. They unconsciously sought to supplant Moshe and Aharon in order to claim a permanent place in the eternal pantheon of the Israelite hierarchy, and they believed they were “too good” to perpetuate the human race. As a punishment, their lives were prematurely cut short, and because of their abstention from peru u’revu, they left no offspring through whom they could “live forever” in the sense that Yaakov and David “live forever” through their progeny. 

There are two takeaway lessons for us: one in methodology and the other in human perfection. The lesson in methodology is that the authors of midrashim will expound on any textual clue, no matter how small, if there is some lesson that can be extrapolated from it, and when it looks like they’re making a mountain out of a molehill, they’re really just embellishing the presentation of their theory in order to make a subtle concept into a blatant part of the narrative. 

The lesson in human perfection is that a misplaced sense of pride is an insidious thing which can plague even the greatest of men, often on account of their genuine greatness. Like a small crack in a large dam, this pride can grow and spread imperceptibly until it’s too late, and the entire edifice comes crumbling down. 

[1] See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 3:4, who writes that Nadav and Avihu were anomalous among Kohanim in that they functioned in the capacity of Kohen Gadol similar to their father, whereas in all subsequent generations there would only be one Kohen Gadol at a time. I’m calling this the position of “adjunct Kohen Gadol.” According to this explanation, Elazar and Itamar inherited this unique designation of Kohen Gadol upon the deaths of their brothers, Nadav and Avihu. 

[2] This midrash appears in a number of different texts with variations between them. Perhaps the most authentic version is the one that appears in Talmud Bavli: Yevamos 64a. I’ve chosen to use the version of that midrash as cited by the Torah Temimah, both because it is phrased in a more standalone manner, and because I subsequently reference the Torah Temimah’s commentary later. 

[3] Ha’Rav Baruch ha’Levi Epstein, Torah Temimah on Bamidbar 3:4 footnote 1 

[4] Midrash Aggadah (Buber), Sefer Bamidbar: Bamidbar 3 

[5] The Hebrew term here is שחוצים, which Jastrow translates as: aristocratic, proud, vainglorious, pompous. 

[6] Midrash Tanchuma (Warsaw) Sefer Vayikra: Acharei Mos 6 

[7] עגונות, which can’t be understood in the usual halachic sense here – unless I’m missing something. The term literally means “deserted,” and since we’re talking about unmarried women here, I’ve translated it as “lonely.” 

[8] Not a typo; just an unusual name: רבי מְנַחְמָה 

[9] According to Rashi, at least. 

[10] Talmud Bavli: Maseches Tamid 29a 

[11] Talmud Bavli: Maseches Eruvin 63a

Parashas Bechukosai: What About the Afterlife?

This week’s dvar Torah is a digest of the answers given by the Rishonim [1] to a classic question, along with an original answer based on my understanding of Sefer Koheles. 

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Honor's Reward, by Izzy

Parashas Bechukosai: What About the Afterlife? 

The Question 

Parashas Bechukosai opens with a list of the blessings that Hashem promises to bestow “If you will follow My decrees and observe My commandments and perform them” (Vayikra 26:3). Among these blessings are: rain in its proper time, abundant produce, peace in the land, military success, flourishing of our population, and Divine favor. A similar list of blessings is stated in Parashas Ki Savo (Devarim 28:1-14). 

But there is a shocking omission from both lists of blessings: Olam ha’Ba (the “World to Come” or “afterlife”), the ultimate reward for a life of Torah and mitzvos. 

This is a famous problem. Why do the promises in the Written Torah focus exclusively on physical reward without ever explicitly mentioning the spiritual reward for the soul in the afterlife? In contrast, the Oral Torah and midrashic literature are replete with references to Olam ha’Ba, the most prominent of which is the Mishnah’s statement: “All of Israel has a portion in Olam ha’Ba” (Sanhedrim 10:1). 

This discrepancy between the Written and Oral Torahs has led modern academics to conclude that the entire notion of an afterlife was a Rabbinic invention, introduced long after the Biblical period. Those who wish to believe such conspiracy theories will not be convinced by any arguments, and I will not even attempt to address them here. Suffice it to say, our Mesorah (tradition) is clear on this point: belief in Olam ha’Ba has always been a unanimously accepted part of Judaism, despite the fact that it is not explicitly referenced in the 24 books of Tanach. 

But the question remains: Why does the Written Torah omit Olam ha’Ba from its lists of rewards? Why does it focus exclusively on the physical blessings? 

Seven Answers from the Rishonim 

The Abravanel [2] raises our question in his Chumash commentary and refers the reader to a book he wrote on the topic of Olam ha’Ba called Tzedek Olamim, in which he answers this question in full. Sadly, this book has been lost to history. Fortunately, the Abravanel provides a brief summary of six answers given to our question by his predecessors, followed by his own seventh answer. Here are my summaries of the Abravanel’s summaries: 

(1) Rambam [3]: The blessings and curses promised in the Torah are not the true reward and punishment for the mitzvos. The true reward is Olam ha’Ba, which is purely spiritual in nature. The reason why the Written Torah didn’t mention this reward is so that a person will follow Torah lishmah (for its own sake) – or, as the Abravanel puts it, “for the sake of perfection” – rather than for the sake of reward or out of fear of punishment. The role of the blessings and curses is to facilitate our pursuit of human perfection for its own sake: to the extent that we follow Hashem, He will provide us with physical goods and remove physical impediments from our lives so that we can continue in our pursuit of perfection without worrying about our material well-being; and to the extent that we neglect His will, He will withhold His blessings and we will be subject to these curses which will impede our pursuit of perfection. 

(2) Ibn Ezra [4]: The reward in Olam ha’Ba is a deep concept which is difficult for the average person to grasp. Since the Written Torah was given to the entire Jewish nation – not just the elite scholars – it was necessary to only mention the physical rewards and punishments, which can be understood by everyone. The sode (“secret” or esoteric concept) of Olam ha’Ba was relegated to the realm of the Oral Torah, thereby allowing every teacher to assess their student’s readiness for this concept on an individual basis, in accordance with that student’s level of development. 

(3) Ramban [5] / Sefer ha’Chinuch [6]: Belief in the eternality of the soul and its reward in Olam ha’Ba is a matter that can be rationally demonstrated by way of philosophical argument, and therefore did not need to be mentioned explicitly in the Torah. In contrast, the blessings and curses are miraculous [7] phenomena which operate according to the principles of hashgachah (Divine providence) known only through nevuah (prophecy), which is why it was necessary for the Torah to spell them out in detail. 

(4) Ran [8] / Kuzari [9]: The majority of the people, in ancient and modern times, denied the reality of hashgachah pratis (individual Divine providence). This denial was rampant among the Jews as well. Were the Torah to only promise spiritual reward and punishment after death, then these misguided Jews would take this as a confirmation of their deistic worldview. Therefore, it was necessary for the Torah to reinforce the truth of hasghacha pratis by going into great detail about the physical blessings and curses that will transpire as a result of our adherence to Torah. As for the reality of the spiritual reward and punishment for the soul in Olam ha’Ba: this can be inferred from the physical blessings and curses in Olam ha’Zeh (the physical world). Once we see that God provides us with physical rewards, which relate to the lower part of our nature (i.e. the body), we will realize that certainly He must provide us with spiritual reward, to compensate the higher part of our nature (i.e. the soul). 

(5) Saadia Gaon [10]: The ovdei avodah zarah (idolaters) engaged in various behaviors which they believed would bring them material success and protection from physical harm. When Hashem prohibited these idolatrous practices, He didn’t want His people to think that they would lose out on these material benefits. Therefore, He promised us as part of His covenant that by keeping the Torah, we would enjoy rewards in the physical world greater than anything that the ovdei avodah zarah hoped for from their false gods, since Hashem is the true God of heaven and earth, Who has the ability to bestow such blessings as He sees fit. There was no need to mention spiritual rewards, since the promises of physical rewards were only included in the covenant to refute the false promise of physical blessings by the ovdei avodah zarah. (Apparently, the ovdei avodah zarah of that era did not yearn for spiritual rewards, which is why there was no need to mention them in the covenant.) 

(6) Kuzari [11] / Ran [12]: The afterlife of the soul is explicitly mentioned in the blessings promised by the Torah in such statements as: “I [Hashem] will walk among you” (Vayikra 26:12), “I will place My dwelling among you” (ibid. 26:11), “I will be God unto you” (ibid. 26:12). [The Abravanel then goes on to explain how, if the nature of this spiritual reward is properly understood, then even the promises of physical blessings will serve as a proof that the souls of the righteous will survive after death. However, I’m not 100% sure that I follow every step of his explanation, and I would rather omit it from my summary than risk misrepresenting this line of reasoning.] 

(7) Abravanel [13]: It would not be proper to mention Olam ha’Ba in the context of Bechukosai and Ki Savo, since these blessings are for the nation as a whole rather than for individuals, whereas the spiritual rewards of the afterlife are for individuals and not for the nation as a whole. If the Torah had mentioned Olam ha’Ba in its lists of blessings, this might lead to misconceptions about the nature of the reward in the afterlife. For example, one might mistakenly conclude that one’s portion in Olam ha’Ba is determined or affected by the righteousness and wickedness of the majority of nation, as is the case with the physical blessings and curses. 

An Eighth Answer 

Shlomo ha'Melech says: “Give a portion to seven but also to eight” (Koheles 11:2). While the seven of the aforementioned answers all have their merits, I would like to offer an eighth answer – one which lines up with that of the Rambam, but with a twist. 

The Rambam [14] devotes the final chapter of Hilchos Teshuvah to a discussion of the motives for serving Hashem. He opens his discussion by defining two levels of Divine service: 

A person should not say, “I will do the mitzvos of the Torah and involve myself in its wisdom in order to receive all of the blessings that are written in it,” or “in order that I will merit life in Olam ha’Ba” and “I will separate myself from the transgressions about which the Torah warns us, in order to escape from the curses written in the Torah” or “so that I will not be cut off from Olam ha’Ba.”  

It is not proper to serve Hashem in this manner, for one who serves Hashem in this manner is called “oveid mi’yirah” (“one who serves out of fear”). This is neither a virtue of the prophets nor of the wise. The only ones who should serve Hashem in this manner are the ignoramuses, the women, and the children, whom we train to serve out of fear until their minds develop and they serve out of love.  

An “oveid me’ahavah” (“one who serves out of love”) involves himself in Torah and mitzvos and walks on the paths of wisdom not because of anything in the world, neither out of fear of the bad nor out of a desire to inherit the good. Rather, he does what is true because it is true, and the good will come of its own accord … 

It is easy to understand why doing mitzvos in order to receive the blessings promised by the Torah is considered to be an inferior motive, but why should this apply to one whose service is motivated by the prospect of reward in Olam ha’Ba? Didn’t the Rambam write earlier [15] that Olam ha’Ba is the greatest good? 

The [ultimate] goodness which is hidden away for tzadikim is Olam ha’Ba. This is the life which has no death with it, and the good which has no bad. This is what is written in the Torah, “so that it will be good for you, and you will prolong your days” (Devarim 22:7). From the Oral Torah we learn: “so that it will be good for you” [refers] to the world which is entirely good, and “you will prolong your days” [refers] to the world which is entirely long – and this is Olam ha’Ba. 

If Olam ha’Ba is the ultimate good, why shouldn’t it motivate our observance of mitzvos? 

The answer lies in the fact that it is impossible for us to comprehend the true nature of the reward in Olam ha’Ba. The Rambam [16] introduces this difficulty in his introduction to Perek Chelek. He writes: 

Know that just as a blind man cannot experience colors, nor can a deaf man experience sounds, nor can a eunuch [experience] sexual desire, so too, physical bodies cannot experience spiritual enjoyments. And just as a fish does not recognize the element of fire because it (i.e. the fish) is immersed in its opposite, so too, one cannot know the enjoyments of the spiritual world while one is in this physical world, for we have no enjoyment other than bodily enjoyments alone – [such as] the experiences of our senses in eating, drinking, and sex – and everything outside of these [physical enjoyments] is not experienced by us, nor can we recognize it, nor can we apprehend it in our initial analysis, but only after much investigation. This is because we are in a physical world and cannot apprehend anything other than its enjoyments, but enjoyments of the soul are constant and unceasing, and there is no relationship at all whatsoever between these and those. 

Similarly, the Rambam [17] writes in the Mishneh Torah: 

Regarding the great good which the soul will enjoy in Olam ha’Ba: there is no way in Olam ha’Zeh to comprehend it or know it, because we only know in Olam ha’Zeh the good of the body, and that is what we desire; but that good [in Olam ha’Ba] is exceedingly great, and there is no comparison among the goods of Olam ha’Zeh except by way of analogy. 

Indeed, a few paragraphs earlier the Rambam condemns those who harbor foolish notions about the nature of the reward in Olam ha’Ba, writing: 

Maybe this good will seem trivial in your eyes, and you’ll imagine that the only reward for mitzvos and for being a person who is perfected in the ways of truth is to eat and drink good foods, have relations with beautiful figures, wear garments made of silk and woven fabrics, dwell in houses of marble, and use gold and silver utensils and other things like this – as is imagined by the foolish and idiotic Arabs who are steeped in lechery.

But the wise and those who possess knowledge know that all of these things are fantasy and nothingness, and there is no hope in them. They are only considered to be a great good for us in Olam ha’Zeh because we have bodies, and all of these things are bodily needs, and the soul only desires them and favors them because they are bodily needs, in order that its desires will be fulfilled and its health maintained. And when there is no body, all of these things will be found to be pointless. 

Having established all of these premises, I would like to propose my own answer to our original question: Why do the promises in the Written Torah focus exclusively on physical reward without ever explicitly mentioning the spiritual reward for the soul in the afterlife? Because since it is absolutely impossible to conceive of the spiritual enjoyments of Olam ha’Ba, then if we were to be motivated by the promise of such a reward, we would – by definition – be chasing a fantasy. In other words, whatever notion of Olam ha’Ba is driving our motivation must, of necessity, be false, since it is impossible for a physical being to conceive of non-physical enjoyments. 

It is for this reason that the Torah promises physical blessings to those who obey Hashem. The individual whose avodah (Divine service) is motivated by these physical blessings and the individual whose avodah is motivated by Olam ha’Ba are both engaged in avodah she’lo lishmah (not for its own sake), but the former individual is on a higher level because at least he’s being motivated by a reality, whereas the latter is being motivated by a fantasy. 

Make no mistake: Olam ha’Ba itself is a reality, but the version of Olam ha’Ba as a motivator is a fantasy. The vision of Olam ha’Ba in our minds and imaginations, to which our psyche attaches value, and which acts as the proverbial carrot (paired with the proverbial stick) – that notion of Olam ha’Ba has no basis in reality whatsoever. In contrast, “rains in their proper time,” “eating bread in satiety,” “peace in the land” and all of the other physical blessings exist as motivators in our imaginations which do correspond to their physical reality. 

This sheds light on the Divine wisdom in relegating Olam ha’Ba to the Oral Torah. In Hashem’s “Plan A” (so to speak), students would not be introduced to the concept of Olam ha’Ba until they were developmentally ready, as the Rambam [18] describes: 

Therefore, when we teach the children, women, and general populace of laymen, we should only teach them to serve out of fear and in order to receive reward, until their minds mature and they gain additional wisdom; we should reveal this secret to them bit by bit, and accustom them to this concept with pleasantness, until they apprehend it and know it and serve out of love. 

Parents and teachers would motivate their children and students to serve Hashem for the she’lo lishmah motive of obtaining the blessings mentioned in the Written Torah. As they reached the requisite level of psychological and intellectual maturity, they would be introduced to the concept of Olam ha’Ba, which would click into its proper intellectual place as a truth about reality, rather than as a motivator for avodah. In this manner, they would bypass the stage of being motivated by a fantasy notion of Olam ha’Ba altogether. 

Ultimately, we cannot know why Hashem chose not to mention Olam ha’Ba explicitly in His lists of rewards, but these eight theories allow us to appreciate the fact that this was done with reason, and with wisdom. 

[1] This is a general remark, but I might as well mention it here. The line between Rishonim and Achronim is a matter of debate. Some distinguish between the two periods based on dates (e.g. the Rishonim are those who wrote in the 11th century to the 15th century, and the Achronim are post-15th century) or by specifying a cutoff point (e.g. all commentators who came before the composition of the Shulchan Aruch were Rishonim, and all who came after are Achronim). Personally, I don’t like either of these approaches. I prefer to define the two groups by their time period AND their relationship to their predecessors and/or their style. For example, I classify the Abravanel (1437 – 1508) as a Rishon because he argues with his predecessors as a contemporary, rather than a disciple. I classify the Sforno (1475 – 1550) as a Rishon because of his commentary’s style and commentary. 

[2] Don Yitzchak Abravanel, Commentary on Sefer Vayikra 26:3 

[3] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah: Introduction to Perek Chelek (Sanhedrin 10:1); Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Teshuvah Chapter 9 

[4] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra, Commentary on Sefer Devarim 32:39; it should be noted that the Ibn Ezra’s answer to this question parallels his answer to R’ Yehuda ha’Levi’s question on the first of the Aseres ha’Dibros: Why does Hashem introduce Himself to the Jewish people by saying “Who took you out from the land of Egypt” instead of “Who created the heavens and the earth”? See the Ibn Ezra’s long commentary on Shemos 20:2. 

[5] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Vayikra 18:29 

[6] Sefer ha’Chinuch: Introduction. The Abravanel doesn’t actually quote the Sefer ha’Chinuch with reference to this view, but since it was the first place I encountered it in my own learning, and since the Sefer ha’Chinuch expands upon this view even more than the Ramban, I decided to attribute this view to him in my list. Moreover, the Abravanel attributes this view to “Rabbeinu Bachya ha’Zaken, as mentioned by the Ibn Ezra” but according to the Warsaw manuscript and H. Norman Strickman, the name mentioned by the Ibn Ezra is actually “Rabbeinu Hai.” This possible misattribution is yet another reason why I opted to label this under the Sefer ha’Chinuch’s name. 

[7] According to the Ramban, as the Abravanel himself points out. 

[8] Rabbeinu Nissim ben Reuven, Drashos ha’Ran #1 

[9] Rabbeinu Yehuda ha’Levi (Kuzari) 1:104-117 

[10] Rabbeinu Saadia Gaon, Emunos v’Deos 9:2 

[11] Rabbeinu Yehuda ha’Levi 1:115 

[12] Rabbeinu Nissim ben Reuven, Drashos ha’Ran, end of #3 

[13] The Abravanel credits the Ramban for this approach, based on the latter’s Commentary on Sefer Devarim 29:20; he also cites the Sefer ha’Ikkarim 4:40, chastising him for citing this answer in his own name rather than in the name of the Ramban. 

[14] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Teshuvah 10:1-2 

[15] ibid. 8:1 

[16] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah: Introduction to Perek Chelek (Sanhedrin 10:1) 

[17] ibid. Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Teshuvah Chapter 8:6 

[18] Ibid. 10:5

Parashas Emor: Does Hashem Hate Unibrows?

Does Hashem hate unibrows? No, of course not! But then why does the Torah ban a Kohen with a unibrow from serving in the Beis ha’Mikdash? In this dvar Torah we will examine the nature of these physical disqualifications and consider their implications within the Torah system as a whole.

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Parashas Emor: Does Hashem Hate Unibrows? 

Parashas Emor introduces the prohibition for a physically blemished Kohen to perform avodah (service) in the Beis ha’Mikdash (Holy Temple): “Any man from among the offspring of Aharon the Kohen who has a blemish shall not approach to offer the fire-offerings of Hashem” (Vayikra 21:21). This parallels the prohibition to offer blemished animals as offerings, which is also discussed in this parashah: “Any [animal offering] in which there is a blemish you shall not offer, for it will not be favorable for you” (ibid. 22:20). 

The pesukim (verses) specify a number of examples of both categories of blemishes which are expanded upon in great detail by Torah she’baal Peh (the Oral Torah). There are a total of 140 physical blemishes that disqualify a Kohen from avodah, 90 of which are unique to human beings, and 50 of which are common to Kohanim and animals. The halacha classifies these 140 blemishes by their location on the body. In order to appreciate the nature and scope of these blemishes, here are a few examples from each category: 

• head (misshapen skull, various forms of baldness)
• neck (too short, too long)
• ears (blindness, too small, asymmetrical in size) 
• eyebrows (unibrow, asymmetrical in appearance)
• eyelids (no eyelashes, too squinty)
• eyes (abnormal positioning, abnormal shape, abnormal size)
• nose (abnormal positioning, abnormal shape, abnormal size)
• lips (over/under-bite, cracked lips, frequent spittle)
• belly (swollen, "outie" navel)
• back (crooked spine, hunchback)
• hands (abnormal number of fingers, webbed fingers, left-handed person)
• reproductive organs (abnormal size, injured scrotum, missing testicle)
• legs (bowlegged, abnormal number of toes, clicking ankles)
• stature (disproportionate trunk, abnormal height)
• skin (albino, very red skin, any type of mole, scarring)
• miscellaneous (deaf, epileptic, suffering from tremors on account of sickness or old age, suffering from severe depression, bad body odor) 

The major question here is: Why should these blemishes disqualify a Kohen from avodah? Does Hashem have something against physically blemished individuals? Does He find clicking ankles to be annoying? Does He regard albinos as subhuman? Does bad B.O. spoil the “fragrant aroma” (Vayikra 1:9) of the burnt offerings? Indeed, some modern readers may find these laws to be not only questionable, but morally reprehensible, and accuse the Torah of stoking the flames of certain forms of discrimination, such as ableism, ageism, and other prejudices. 

Before offering an answer, we will briefly respond to the types of charges against Torah mentioned in the aforementioned paragraph. Renowned pathologist Dr. J. Beckwith begins his historical essay, Congenital Malformations: from Superstition to Understanding, as follows: 

Throughout most of human history, congenital anomalies were perceived as omens, portents, or punishments of supernatural origin. This concept is reflected in the term “monster,” probably derived from the Latin verb monstrare (to show or reveal). Other explanations for congenital abnormalities included witchcraft, astrological configurations, or emotional experiences of the pregnant mother. 

Individuals suffering from physical deformities and bodily abnormalities were feared, shunned, and ostracized in many cultures, especially in ancient times. Dr. Beckwith elaborates on this phenomenon, citing an example from a neighboring ancient civilization to ours: 

Birth defects were interpreted as omens or portents in many early cultures. For example, Babylonian–Assyrian cuneiform tablets include an extensive catalog of anomalies believed to represent omens, some of which are clearly based upon observation of actual cases. 

Torah society stands in stark contrast to these prevailing views and attitudes in the ancient world. Judaism does not regard individuals with physical abnormalities to be inferior in any way to any other person. There is no discrimination when it comes to their religious observance nor are there any limitations to their roles in the community (with the sole exception of Kohanim in Mikdash). These individuals were never regarded as “cursed” or “harbingers of evil” or anything that even remotely negative. Indeed, the Sages decreed that a blessing should be recited upon seeing such an individual: “Blessed are You, Hashem, our God, King of the universe, Who makes creations different.” In other words, physical abnormalities are not viewed as negative, but are regarded positively as expressions of the wisdom and magnificence of the Creator. Moreover, the Torah clearly states that the essence of the human being is the tzelem Elokim (truth-seeking intellect) – not the physical body. Thus, there are no grounds for the assumption that a person should have lesser value in the eyes of God simply because his or her body looks different.

Of course, this only strengthens our question! These laws of Kohanim’s blemishes are an anomaly – the only Torah laws which, on the surface, seem to stigmatize physical imperfections. 

The Sefer ha’Chinuch (Mitzvah #275) answers this question as follows: 

At the root of this mitzvah lies the reason that the majority of people’s actions are favorable to the hearts of those who see them in accordance of the eminence of those who do them. For when a man is distinguished in his appearance and good in his actions, he “will find favor and good success” (Mishlei 3:4) in everything he does in the eyes of all who observe him. If, however, he is the opposite of this – inferior in his form or peculiar in his limbs – then even if he is straight in his ways, his activities will not be so attractive to the heart of those who see him. 

It is therefore truly fitting that the messenger (i.e. the Kohen), on whom atonement depends, should be a man of grace, handsome in appearance and fair in features, and pleasing in all his ways – that the minds of men may be drawn to him. And in addition to this, it is possible that in the perfection of his form lies an intimation of matters through which, as a man’s thoughts dwell on them, his spirit will be cleansed and exalted. 

It is therefore not right in any way that there should be in him [the Kohen] any deviation in any of his forms whatsoever, lest the spirit of the contemplator be distracted on account of the peculiarity and stray from the desired goal. 

According to the Sefer ha’Chinuch, physically blemished Kohanim were not barred from performing the avodah on account of any inherent deficiency or inadequacy on their part. Rather, as we say nowadays, it was all about “the optics.” The Beis ha’Mikdash is meant to be an awe-inspiring place, as the Sefer ha’Chinuch describes (Mitzvah #95): 

Hashem desired the good for human beings, as we have stated. Therefore He commanded us to establish a location that should be pure and clean to the ultimate degree of cleanliness, to purify there the thoughts of people and to rectify and perfect their hearts towards Him. 

Indeed, it is a mitzvah to be in awe of Mikdash, as the Sefer ha’Chinuch writes (Mitzvah #254): 

[He commanded us] to have a reverent awe of the Sanctuary: in other words, that we should regard and establish it in our souls as the place of awe and veneration, so that our hearts will be moved when we come there to pray or to bring offerings, as it is stated: “and you shall revere My Sanctuary” (Vayikra 19:30). 

The Sefer ha’Chinuch’s explanation of the Kohanim’s blemishes is built upon this idea, namely, that in order to produce the proper degree of awe, reverence, and inspiration in those come to the Beis ha’Mikdash, the Kohanim had to be flawless in their appearance. Anything less would detract from the intended effect of the Sanctuary, which was to inspire the visiting Jews to emulate the priestly models of avodah who ministered therein. 

A modern example of this phenomenon can be drawn from the world of fashion. Clothing companies know that in order to sell their products, they must use flawlessly attractive models, in ads and in clothing stores. These companies know that the vast majority of individuals will never live up to the beauty standards of these models, but will nevertheless purchase this clothing hoping that they will partake of some level of attractiveness, like these models. 

Just as attractive models enhance the attractiveness of the clothing they wear and cause the onlookers to aspire to this level of attractiveness, the same is true of the Kohanim. These are individuals who have devoted their lives to Hashem, to learning and teaching Torah, and to giving up their private civilian roles in order to live a life apart as models of avodas Hashem. They are intended to be the equivalent of Hollywood celebrities, epitomizing the life of chochmah (wisdom) and divine service rather than the life of fame and glamour. We are meant to look up to them and want to be like them, knowing full well that their lifestyle will likely be outside of our reach. When a Jew makes a pilgrimage to the Beis ha’Mikdash and sees Kohanim in action, he should be filled with a sense of awe and admiration. If that Kohen were blemished in any way, this would shatter the illusion and dilute the effect, thereby impeding the fundamental mission of Mikdash. 

This is why physical blemishes only disqualify Kohanim from their role in avodah, and do not invalidate any other Jew from doing any other mitzvah. Only Kohanim in the awe-inspiring Mikdash occupy this celebrity status in Judaism. There are other classes of individuals who are to be admired and emulated – such as talmidei chachamim (Torah scholars), tzadikim (righteous people), chasidim (pious people) – but none of these individuals function in the same capacity as the Kohanim of Mikdash. “For the lips of the Kokhen should safeguard knowledge, and people should seek teaching from his mouth, for he is an angel of Hashem, Master of Legions” (Malachi 2:7). Just as the true “angels of Hashem” are pristine in their metaphysical purity, so must their earthly counterparts be pristine in their physicality. 

I believe that this gives us some insight into the Torah’s general approach in mitzvos. The Rambam (Moreh ha’Nevuchim 3:32), in his famous explanation of korbanos (sacrifices), writes: 

Many commandments in our Torah are the result of a similar course adopted by the same Director, for it is impossible to go suddenly from one extreme to the other; therefore, it is impossible for man – according to human nature – to suddenly discontinue everything to which he has been accustomed. 

The Rambam applies this to korbanos, explaining that it would have been too much for Hashem to completely abolish a mode of worship to which the people had become so attached. He cites an example of Hashem using this approach in a non-mitzvah area: 

There occurs in the Torah a passage which contains exactly the same idea; it is the following: “God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, even though it was near, for God said, ‘lest the people change their mind when they see war, and return to Egypt;’ but God led the people around, by way of the wilderness of the Sea of Reeds” (Shemos 13:17). Here Hashem led the people around, away from the direct road which He originally intended, because He was concerned that they might meet on that way with hardships too great for their ordinary strength; He took them by another road in order to obtain thereby His original goal. In the same manner Hashem refrained from commanding what the people by their natural disposition would be incapable of obeying, and gave the aforementioned commandments as a means of accomplishing His primary goal– namely, knowledge of Him, and the rejection of avodah zarah. 

The disqualifying blemishes of the Kohanim are another example of this phenomenon. On the one hand, the Torah does not assign any inherent value to physical attractiveness. At the same time, the Torah recognizes that it is human nature to care about physical appearances. The Torah can emphasize time and again that the essence of a human being is the tzelem Elokim and that true success lies in the pursuit of knowledge rather than beauty, but at the end of the day, the average Jew will still look askance at a Kohen with a unibrow, will be distracted by a Kohen who is an albino, and will be put off by a Kohen with bad body odor. 

In other words, the Torah must walk a fine line between its idealistic goal of perfecting human beings and the pragmatic realities of catering to human nature. That line can only be drawn by the Creator of man, “the God of the spirits of all flesh” (Bamidbar 16:22). Shlomo ha’Melech said: “Train the youth in accordance with his way (i.e. his nature), and even when he is old, he will not deviate from it” (Mishlei 22:6), and the same pedagogical tactic is employed by the Giver of Torah.