Shoftim: The Parameters of Idolatrous Cultural Appropriation

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Shoftim: The Parameters of Idolatrous Cultural Appropriation

It is prohibited to plant a tree anywhere in the courtyard area on the Temple Mount: “You shall not plant an asheirah of any tree beside the altar of Hashem, your God, which you shall make for yourself” (Devarim 16:21). The Rambam (Sefer ha’Mitzvos: Lo Taaseh #13) explains the reason for this prohibition:

We are prohibited from planting trees in the Mikdash (Temple) or near the altar for decoration or beauty, even if our intention in this is for the service of Hashem, since the idolaters also honored their idolatry by planting beautiful trees which are pleasing to behold in their houses of worship.

The Rambam (Moreh ha’Nevuchim 3:32) infamously held that korbanos (sacrifices) are a concession to human nature. Hashem would have “preferred” that Judaism have no korbanos whatsoever. The problem is that korbanos were the universal form of worship among idolaters at the time the Torah was given.

Therefore, His wisdom and plan – as is displayed throughout the entirety of creation – did not require the discontinuation, abandonment, and abolition of all these forms of service, because this would have been contrary to the nature of man, who clings to what he is accustomed … It is for this reason that Hashem allowed these kinds of service to continue. He transferred to His service that which had formerly served as a worship of created beings, and of things imaginary and unreal, and commanded us to serve Him in this same manner.

On the surface, the Rambam’s explanation of the prohibition to plant trees on the Temple Mount is undermined by his theory of korbanos. How can the Rambam say that we are prohibited from planting trees in the Temple courtyard because this was a custom of the idolaters, and at the same time, maintain that the entire sacrificial service is modeled after idolatrous modes of worship? Does the Torah endorse or oppose cultural appropriation of idolatrous practices? On what basis does the Torah draw this line?

I believe the answer is that only Hashem knows how to draw that line. Only the Creator of man can determine which forms of idolatrous cultural appropriation are so dangerous that they will lead people down the path of destruction and which forms are either worth the risk or are better than the alternatives.

The Rambam begins Hilchos Avodah Zarah with an account of how idolatry started:

In the days of Enosh, the people made a tremendous error, and the counsel of the wise men of the generation became foolish, and Enosh himself was among those who erred. This was their mistake: they said, “Since God created these planets and these galaxies to control the universe and placed them on high and gave them honor, and they are the servants who minister before Him, it is befitting to praise them and to glorify them and to give them honor. And this is the will of God, blessed is He – to exalt and to honor the ones whom He exalts and honors, just as it is the king’s desire to honor his ministers and those who stand before him, and this honors the king.” Once this notion arose in their hearts, they began to build temples for the planets, and to offer sacrifices to them, and to praise them and to glorify them with words, and to bow down to them, in order to satisfy the will of the Creator, according to their evil minds.

The concept proposed by Enosh and his generation was not irrational. It is true that showing honor to a king’s ministers is a way of showing honor to the king. Rather, their mistake was their arrogant assumption that they could ascertain how best to worship Hashem using their own minds. They couldn’t foresee the disastrous consequences of the practice they introduced. Planting a tree to beautify the Mikdash might seem like a good idea, but our minds are too limited to make that determination. Only Hashem knows which forms of worship are beneficial and detrimental to man, and we must defer to His judgment.

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Naso: Twelve Identical Offerings

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Naso: Twelve Identical Offerings

The Question 

Without a doubt, the strangest section of Parashas Naso is its conclusion. Bamidbar Chapter 7 begins by establishing the narrative context: 

And it happened on the day Moshe finished setting up the Mishkan (Tabernacle) that he anointed it and consecrated it and all its furnishings, and he anointed them and consecrated them. And the leaders of Israel – the heads of their fathers’ houses, they are the leaders of the tribes, they are the ones who stand over the reckoning – brought forward and set their offering before Hashem … And the leaders brought forward the dedication offering of the altar on the day it was anointed, and the leaders brought forward their offering for the dedication of the altar. And Hashem said to Moshe: “One leader each day, one leader each day, shall offer his offerings for the dedication for the altar.” (Bamidbar 7:1-2,10-11) 

The first of these offerings is then described in detail: 

And the one who brought forward his offering on the first day was Nachshon ben Aminadav of the tribe of Yehudah. And his offering was one silver bowl, a hundred thirty shekels its weight, one silver basin, seventy shekels by the sanctuary shekel, both of them filled with fine flour mixed with oil for a grain offering. One golden ladle of ten shekels filled with incense. One bull from the herd, one ram, one yearling lamb for the burnt offering. One goat for an offense offering. And for the communion sacrifice two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This is the offering of Nachshon ben Aminadav. (ibid. 7:12-17) 

And that’s when things start to get repetitive. The Torah goes on to describe the offering brought on the second day by the second tribal leader, Nesanel ben Tzuar. It is exactly the same offering, and its contents are spelled out in exactly the same words. The Torah continues in this manner with the third, fourth, and fifth identical offerings – all the way up to the twelfth. Each tribal leader brings exactly the same offering, which the pesukim describe in exactly the same way. It is as if Moshe Rabbeinu took these same six pesukim, with the same 66 words, and copied and pasted them eleven more times, then went back and changed the name of the tribal leader and in the ordinal designation of the day for each. 

This seemingly gratuitous repetition has astounded medieval and modern commentators alike. The Abravanel [1] raises this question explicitly: 

Why did the text here mention the offering of each leader in elaborate detail, considering that their offerings were exactly equal without any variation? It would have been enough for it to say about the first of them “this was the offering of Nachshon ben Aminadav” as an example, and afterwards for each and every day, “and likewise, so-and-so offered on the such-and-such day” – as opposed to writing the same thing twelve times, which is excessively repetitive and is a very strange thing. 

The modern translator and commentator, Robert Alter [2], notes how anomalous this section is: 

This is the one single instance in the entire Bible of extensive verbatim repetition without the slightest variation … Biblical narrative, as we have had many occasions to see, characteristically deploys significant swerves from verbatim repetition as it approximately repeats strings of phrases and whole clauses and sentences. This passage, however, is manifestly not narrative, but a kind of epic inventory. 

In simple terms the question is: Why did the Torah repeat the list of these twelve identical offerings verbatim when it only needed to list them once? 

The Simple Answer 

The most straightforward answer is given by several commentators, namely, that the Torah wanted to stress the absolute equality of the leaders and their offerings, for them and for us. The Bechor Shor [3] states that this was the reason why each leader was given his own day and why his offering was spelled out in detail, despite it being identical with the others: 

“one leader each day” – in order to give honor to the leaders, that each one would have his day; so too, a section [describing the offering] was written for each one of them, so that they would not become jealous of one another – for it could have written the first section and then said, “Thus did so-and-so, and thus so-and-so.” 

The Ramban [4] offers a similar explanation: 

The best reason for Scripture [stating each leader’s offering separately] is that Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu apportions honor to those who fear Him, as it was said: “for I honor those who honor Me” (I Shmuel 2:30). Now, all the leaders brought on the same day this offering upon which they agreed together, but it was impossible that one should not precede his fellow [in the actual offering. Therefore, Hashem] honored those that had precedence in the arrangement [of the camp] with precedence in the days [of offering,] but He wanted to mention them by name and their offerings in detail and to mention each one’s day, rather than [simply] mentioning and honoring the first one, [saying:] “This is the offering of Nachshon ben Aminadav” and [then] saying: “And so the leaders offered, each man on his day,” since that would have been an affront to the others’ honor. And afterwards He went and combined them [by stating the total quantities of the offerings] to teach that all of them were equal before Him, blessed is He. And thus [the Sages] said there in Sifrei: “Scripture teaches that just as [the leaders] were all equal with regard to the idea [of these offerings,] so were they equal with regard to the merit.” 

Alter [5] also favors this approach, depicting the Torah’s intended rhetorical effect as follows: 

Each of the tribes, here accorded absolutely equal status before the sanctuary without political hierarchy, brings exactly the same offering. One can readily imagine that the members of each tribe in the ancient audience of this text would be expected to relish the sumptuousness of its own tribal offering exactly equal to all the others, as it hears the passage read. 

Yet, as reasonable as this objective may be, was it really necessary to “waste” 726 needless words simply in order to demonstrate the equality of the tribal leaders? Surely the Torah could have found a more verbally efficient way to convey the same sentiment. For example, Chazal [6] interpret the Torah’s extremely concise statement: “and the sons of Yaakov were twelve” (Bereishis 35:22) “to teach that all of them are equal.” Likewise, on the pasuk: “they are Aharon and Moshe” (Shemos 6:26), Rashi [7] observes that “in some places Moshe precedes Aharon and in other places Aharon precedes Moshe in order to convey their equality.” So too here: the Torah could have stated the contents of the identical offerings and framed them in a manner which would have conveyed the equality of the tribal leaders. 

Two Midrashic Approaches 

The Abravanel notes that there are two categories of answers given in the midrashic literature: 

In [the midrashic collection] Bamidbar Sinai Rabbah (13:14) they expound “and his offering” in a different manner, saying: “Why did the leaders see fit to bring their offerings in this manner? The Rabbis say: even though their offerings were the same, each one brought them [in order to allude] to great principles, each and every one in accordance with his own intent.” Likewise, Rebbi Shimon (ibid.) expounded: “Why does the pasuk say, ‘from the leaders of Israel’? This teaches that they donated of their own accord.” Consequently, each one’s offering was equal in its value, its quantity, and its weight. In other words, each and every one was motivated by himself to offer these items mentioned in the pasuk in accordance with his own intention, in order to allude to the concepts in his own mind … 

The midrash then proceeds to expound on the symbolism of each leader’s offering in accordance with a specific theme. For example, the tribe of Yehuda is the tribe of malchus (Kingship), and its tribal leader intended each detail of his offering to allude to different ideas about malchus. The tribe of Yissachar was known for its prowess in Torah, and its tribal leader intended each detail of his offering to allude to concepts about Torah. And so on for each of the other ten tribes. After paraphrasing [8] the themes of each of these offerings based on this midrash, the Abravanel concludes: 

The general thrust of this view is that each of the leaders made his offering in accordance with his own intentions which differed from the intentions of the other leaders. Thus, their offerings were the same, but their intentions were different. 

Next, the Abravanel cites an opposing view stated in the same midrash: 

However, Rebbi Pinchas ben Yair held that all of the leaders had a single intention and a single allusion in mind, namely, [that their offerings] correspond to the generations from Adam ha’Rishon until the Mishkan. 

For example, the first item in the offering was “one silver bowl (kaaras kesef), a hundred and thirty shekels its weight.” The phrase “kaaras kesef” has a numerical value of which is 930, which represents Adam ha’Rishon who lived for 930 years. The fact that there was only one such bowl represents Chava, since she was created from him. Its weight of 130 shekels represents the 130 years that Adam separated from Chava before they reunited and had their third son. The second item in the offering was “one silver basin (mizrak echad), seventy shekels by the sanctuary shekel.” The phrase “mizrak” (from Z.R.Q., meaning “to throw”) represents Noach, who was “thrown out” of the Generation of the Flood. Its weight of 70 shekels corresponds to the 70 nations that emerged from him. And so on. 

Even though I tend to favor pshat, I find that both of these approaches provide a more satisfactory answer to our question than the pshat explanations cited above. If these offerings were intended to convey ideas through the symbolism of their particulars, then the Torah going out of its way to emphasize these particulars is a great way to draw the mind. According to the first midrashic approach, each offering is restated in full because each detail has its own ideational content. According to the second midrashic approach, each offering is restated in full in order to underscore the unanimity of the tribal leaders in their common intent. 

The Methodological Underpinnings of These Midrashic Approaches 

No matter how appealing these symbolic interpretations may be, one cannot help but wonder: “How did the authors of these midrashim know what the tribal leaders intended to symbolize in their offerings?” 

For those who believe that midrashim were given at Sinai, along with the rest of Torah she’baal Peh (the Oral Torah), the answer is simple: mesorah (an oral tradition). But for those who follow the mainstream approach, [9] maintaining that midrashim reflect the views of their authors, the answer is even simpler: the authors of these midrashim didn’t know the intentions of the tribal leaders. Rather, these midrashim reflect their own speculative theories which may or may not correspond to what the tribal leaders actually intended. 

This attempt to find meaning in the details of the leaders’ offerings is reminiscent of an approach mentioned by the Rambam. The Rambam states that it is incumbent upon every person to seek out the reasons for the mitzvos of the Torah. This injunction applies to both categories of mitzvos: to mishpatim, those mitzvos whose reasons are evident, and to chukim, the mitzvos whose reasons are hidden. At the end of Hilchos Me’ilah the Rambam [10] writes: 

It is proper for a person to contemplate the laws of the Holy Torah and to know their ultimate concepts according to his ability. If he doesn't find a reason and doesn't know a cause of something, it should not be less in his eyes, nor should he break forth to ascend to Hashem lest He burst forth against him, nor should he think of it as a mundane matter … a person should not kick against them just because he doesn’t know their reasons, nor should he ascribe matters which are not true onto Hashem, nor should he think about them as he thinks about mundane matters. It was stated in the Torah: “And you shall guard all of my chukim (statutes) and all of my mishpatim (judgments) and you shall do them” (Vayikra 19:37; 20:22). The Sages said that we should apply shmirah (guarding) and asiyah (doing) to chukim in the same manner as mishpatim. The [meaning of] “asiyah” is evident: namely, that we should do the chukim. The [meaning] of “shmirah” is that we must be careful with them and not imagine that they are less than mishpatim. The mishpatim are the mitzvos whose benefits in this world are evident, such as the prohibitions of stealing and murder, and honoring one's father and mother. And the chukim are the mitzvos whose reasons are not evident. The Sages said: “[These are] the statutes that I have inscribed for you, and you do not have permission to be suspicious about them, and man’s yetzer (inclination) confronts him regarding them, and the nations of the world dispute them.” Examples include the prohibition of [eating] pork, meat and milk, the decapitated calf, the red heifer, and the goat which is sent away. 

In this excerpt the Rambam speaks of "finding" the “cause” of the chukim – the actual reasons why they were commanded. In contrast, at the end of Hilchos Temurah [11] he writes: 

Even though all of the chukim of the Torah are [Divine] decrees, as we explained at the end of Hilchos Meilah, it is proper to contemplate them; anything for which you can give a reason, you should give a reason. The Early Sages said that Shlomo ha’Melech understood the majority of reasons for all of the chukim of the Torah. 

All of these matters [in Hilchos Temurah] are to subdue man’s inclination and to correct his character traits. And the majority of the laws of the Torah are but counsels from afar, from the Great Counselor, to correct [our] character traits and to make all [of our] actions upright. Likewise, it is written: “Surely, I have written for you extremely noble things, with counsel and knowledge, to teach you the veracity of true words, so that you may answer words of truth to those who send word to you” (Mishlei 22:20-21). 

Here the Rambam does not speak about finding the “cause” of the chukim. Instead, he states, “anything for which you can give a reason, you should give a reason.” In other words, in contrast to the approach of Hilchos Me'ilah, the approach of Hilchos Temurah is not to attempt to find the actual reason why Hashem commanded us to keep this mitzvah in all of its particulars. Rather, the objective is to ascribe meaning to the structure of this mitzvah in order to transform it from an incomprehensible ritual into “counsels from afar, from the Great Counselor, to correct our character traits and make all of our actions upright.” Whether or not our explanations correspond to the Divine intent is irrelevant. What matters is that our explanation renders the mitzvah into a vehicle for perfection. 

If we were to interpret Chazal’s explanations of the offerings of the tribal leaders as the type of analysis advocated by Hilchos Me’ilah, we would have ample grounds for suspicion. How could the authors of the midrashim know with such precision what the tribal leaders had in mind? But if we understand these midrashim in the sense of Hilchos Temurah, then the ingenuity of these symbolic interpretations becomes a feature, rather than a bug. The more ideas of human perfection we can associate with the details of these chukim and the stronger the association, the better.

These two methods for understanding taamei ha’mitzvos (the reasons for the commandments) ought to be kept in mind whenever one encounters a theory about why the structure of a mitzvah is the way it is. It is easy to dismiss an “explanation” of a mitzvah on the grounds of being speculative if one assumes that the explanation is being offered as a theory about the cause of the mitzvah, in the vein of Hilchos Me’ilah. But if one allows for Hilchos Temurah type explanations, then homiletic creativity is a boon.

[1] Don Yitzchak Abravanel, Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar, Introduction to Chapter 7, Question #8 

[2] Robert Alter, The Five Books of Moses: A Translation with Commentary (2004), pp. 716-717 

[3] Rabbeinu , Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 7:11 

[4] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 7:13 

[5] ibid. Alter adds another explanation: “It is also well to remember that lists and the repetitions they entail constitute an established literary form with its own aesthetic pleasures – as, for example, in the catalogue of the ships in the Iliad or in the cumulative repetitive structures of songs like Had Gadya (‘An Only Kid’) and, more apposite to this catalogue of gifts, ‘On the Twelve Days of Christmas.’” 

[6] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 35:22, paraphrasing Shabbos 55b. 

[7] ibid. Commentary on Sefer Shemos 6:26 

[8] In case you’re wondering about the themes of each tribe, here is the Abravanel’s summary: Zevulun’s is about his partnership with Yissachar, Reuven’s is about saving Yosef, Shimon’s is about the order of the Mishkan, Gad’s is about Amram and his descendents, Ephraim’s is about Yaakov’s blessings of Yosef’s sons, Menashe’s is about Yaakov’s transfer of the bechorah status from Reuven to Yosef, Binyamin’s is about the offspring of Rachel, Dan’s is about Shimshon, Asher’s is about Israel as Hashem’s Chosen People, Naftali’s is about the Avos and Imahos; as you can see, some of these themes are directly connected to the identity of the tribe, whereas others are only loosely connected, or are not apparently connected at all. 

[9] See https://kolhaseridim.blogspot.com/2014/07/parashas-balak-on-citing-midrash-as.html

[10] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer Avodah, Hilchos Me’ilah 8:8

[11] ibid. Sefer ha'Korbanos, Hilchos Temurah 4:14

Parashas Pinchas: Making Meaning of Mussafim

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Parashas Pinchas: Making Meaning of Mussafim

The final topic in Parashas Pinchas (Bamidbar Chapters 28-29) is the mussafim (additional offerings) which were brought in the Beis ha’Mikdash (Holy Temple) on the moadim (holidays). These korbanos (offerings) are described as “mussafim” (additional) because they are considered to be additions to the korban tamid (continual offering) which was brought twice each day: once in the morning and once in the afternoon. 

In the present day, when the Beis ha’Mikdash has not been rebuilt, the average Jew encounters these mussafim in two primary ways: (a) the krias ha’Torah (public Torah readings) on the moadim, in which we read the pesukim (verses) from our parashah corresponding to the mussaf of that day, and (b) the tefilas mussaf (additional prayer), which was instituted to parallel the korban mussaf, and in which the prevailing custom is to recite the contents of each mussaf during the middle berachah (blessing). 

Although I have not taken a survey, I suspect that the vast majority of Jews hear and recite these pesukim do so mindlessly, without giving any thought as to the number or type of animal offered in each korban and without thinking about why each mussaf is offered on each day. It is difficult enough to relate to the idea of korbanos in general, and even more difficult to derive any meaning or value from reciting the particular requirements for these holiday offerings.

I, too, suffered from this “mussafic apathy” from the day I learned to daven (pray) right up until this past Pesach. I was davening my tefilas mussaf like any other Yom Tov (holiday), and when I read the pesukim which describe the mussaf of Pesach, I had an epiphany. I realized that the the mussaf of Pesach was exactly the same as the mussaf of Rosh Chodesh (the New Month). Then I took a look at the mussaf for Shavuos and noticed that it was also exactly the same. 

“Huh,” I though to myself, “That’s interesting.” On a whim, I decided to look up the other mussafim – and that’s when the gears started turning. As you can imagine, the facts were incredibly detailed. Since it was Yom Tov, and I couldn’t write, I made a visual representation of all the mussafim using Magic: the Gathering tokens and dice (see below) so that I could more easily spot any patterns and anomalies. After finding these patterns and anomalies, I was able to formulate specific questions. These questions led to answers which yielded insight into the different moadim and their interrelationship. 

You can figure out the key by comparing it to the chart above. There is one error, though: there are supposed to be seven lambs for Shemini Atzeres - not just one. 

Here is a list of most (if not all) of these questions – many of which I subsequently discovered were noted by the Abravanel [1] in his commentary on Bamidbar:

1) Why do we offer a single lamb for the korban tamid? Or, if you prefer, why do we bring a lamb for the tamid once in the morning and once in the afternoon? 

2) Why is the tamid included here at all, considering the fact (a) that it isn’t a mussaf, and (b) the Torah already dealt with the tamid way back in Parashas Tetzaveh (Shemos 29:38-46)? 

3) Why are these four species of animal – and only these four species – used as mussafim?  

4) Why do the mussafim of all the moadim involve all four species (bull, ram, lamb, he-goat) whereas the mussaf of Shabbos only involves lambs? Or, if you prefer, why do the daily tamid and the mussaf of Shabbos only involve lambs, whereas the mussafim of all the other moadim involve all four species? 

5) Why are the mussafim of Rosh Chodesh, Pesach, and Shavuos exactly the same? 

6) Why do we offer 2 bulls for Rosh Chodesh, Pesach, and Shavuos, but only 1 bull for Rosh ha’Shanah, Yom ha’Kippurim, and Shemini Atzeres? Alternatively, why are the mussafim of Rosh ha’Shanah and Shemini Atzeres – and Yom ha’Kippurim, if you do’t count the additional he-goat – exactly the same?  

7) Why is the “default number” of rams one? (“Default” in the sense that all mussafim that have rams have only 1, with the exception of Sukkos.) 

8) Why is the “default number” of lambs seven? (“Default” in the sense that all mussafim that have lambs have 7, with the exception of Sukkos.) 

9) Why do we bring 2 rams on Sukkos? Do we understand this to be “a requirement of 2” or “double the requirement of the usual 1”? 

10) Why do we bring 14 lambs on Sukkos? Do we understand this to be “a requirement of 14” or “double the requirement of the usual 7”? 

11) Why, on Sukkos, do we bring 13 bulls on Day 1, 12 on Day 2, 11 on Day 3, etc.? In other words, why do the bulls diminish at all, and why do we start with 13 and end with 7? 

12) Why do we bring a sin-offering with each of the mussafim except for Shabbos? What does this sin-offering atone for? And why a he-goat? 

13) Why, on Yom ha’Kippurim, do we bring an extra he-goat as a sin-offering? 

14) Why, on Shavuos, do we bring a special korban mussaf in addition to the regular one? What accounts for the unique composition of this mussaf, which contains features we don’t see elsewhere – that is, two loaves of bread, seven more lambs in addition to the seven lambs of the regular mussaf, another he-goat as a sin offering in addition to the he-goat sin offering of the regular mussaf, and two more lambs brought as shlamim (peace-offerings)? And if this is really a mussaf, why isn’t it mentioned in Parashas Pinchas?   

15) Why are the bulls, rams, and lambs of the mussafim offered as olah (burnt-offerings), but the he-goat offered chatas (sin-offerings)? 

Now before you get too excited, I am sorry to inform you that we will not be answering all of these questions in this blog post – not even close. Most of the meforshim (commentators) only offer answers to a few of these questions and not others, and their answers are too localized for me to be able to extrapolate their overall approach to the extent that I would be able to reliably guess how they might answer the other questions. The only two meforshim I found who attempted to provide reasons for ALL the details of ALL the mussafim were the Ralbag and the Abravanel. Unfortunately, I did not find their answers compelling enough to write here – though I will cite a few examples from each of them below.

Instead of answering these questions I would like to focus on methodology. I will outline the four different approaches taken by the meforshim in their efforts to answer these questions. I will then offer several examples of each approach. Lastly, I will note the major advantages and disadvantages of each approach. 

Approach #1 – Structural: Personally, my favorite approach to questions like this is the minimalist “structural” approach. According to this approach, the mussafim are not symbolic. Rather, the patterns and anomalies in the mussafim reflect ideas about the moadim on which they are brought. By examining these discrepancies in light of all the information provided by Torah she’bi’Chsav (the Written Torah) and Torah she’baal Peh (the Oral Torah), one can arrive at a deeper understanding of the moadim. For example:

The daily tamid consists of one lamb, whereas the mussaf of Shabbos consists of two lambs. This structural pattern conveys the idea that Shabbos is “double” the weekday, in some sense. What does this mean? The mussafim themselves do not answer this question. To answer this question we must contemplate what we know about Shabbos in relation to the weekdays. We might draw a comparison from the fact that the Torah states, “and God blessed the 7th day and sanctified it” (Bereishis 2:3), which Chazal interpret to foreshadow the fact that Hashem gave Bnei Yisrael a double portion of mahn (manna) on Friday for the sake of Shabbos. Alternatively, perhaps the idea has to do with the fact that the freedom of melachah on Shabbos affords us double the opportunity to perfect ourselves in comparison to the weekday. Or maybe the idea has to do with the fact that we have a neshamah yeseirah (“extra soul”) on Shabbos (Taanis 27b), or that the mitzvah of oneg (enjoyment) results in double the enjoyment, or the fact that the weekday is primarily devoted to the needs of Olam ha’Zeh (This World), whereas on Shabbos we get to enjoy Olam ha’Zeh and Olam ha’Ba (The World to Come).  

Another example has to do with our initial observation: that the mussafim of Rosh Chodesh, Pesach, and Shavuos are exactly the same. This suggests that there is a common theme which unites these three moadim. Again, there are a number of directions we can proceed from there. Perhaps these reflect the three stages of Yetzias Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt): Rosh Chodesh is the moed which represents the preparation stage while Bnei Yisrael were still enslaved in Mitzrayim (since this is when they were commanded in the mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh); Pesach is the moed about the Geulas Mitzrayim (Redemption from Egypt); Shavuos (according to some) is the moed about Matan Torah (the Giving of the Torah), which was the purpose and culmination of Yetzias Mitzrayim.  

A third example comes from the Bechor Shor’s [2] explanation of the mussaf of Shemini Atzeres. He notes that compared to the mussafim of the first seven days of Sukkos (e.g. 31 animals on Day 1, 30 on Day 2, etc.), Shemini Atzeres has relatively few (i.e. only 11). Why should that be? He answers that the term "atzeres" means "to detain" or "hold back." The idea of the holiday is that once Sukkos ends we won't have any more moadim until Pesach, Hashem wants to "hold us back" for one more day of rejoicing. In order to show us that He is doing this because of His love for us, and in order to demonstrate that He is not holding us back to obtain more korbanos, He therefore required the absolute minimum amount of korbanos: one bull, one ram, and the standard amount of lambs. 

The chief advantage of the structural approach is that it is extremely conservative. We simply note the small differences in the mussafim and make small moves based on our prior knowledge to derive small new insights into the moadim. But the minimalism of this approach is a double-edged sword: since we are given very little information from the korbanos themselves, and are forced to draw upon prior knowledge, this approach lends itself to a high degree of speculation. The first example illustrates this point: yes, we see that Shabbos is “double” the weekday, but see how many different ways there are to make sense of this! 

Approach #2 – Torah-Symbolic: This approach is a favorite among the more midrashically inclined meforshim, such as Rashi, the Ramban, and (of course) Chazal themselves, who authored the midrashim. The Abravanel takes this approach all the way, explaining every single detail of every korban in accordance with its Torah-based symbolism. However, he doesn’t maintain that the symbolism is uniform (i.e. bulls don’t always symbolize the same thing; the number 7 also doesn’t always symbolize the same thing). He also doesn’t always use the same “mode” of symbolism: some of his symbolism is based on textual evidence and allusions in Torah she’bi’Chsav, some is based on the physical qualities of the animals, and some of it is based on wordplay. Lastly, the Abravanel does not seem to think that this approach lends itself to absolute certainty, as indicated by the fact that he offers several different interpretations for many of the details. 

Here are a few examples to give you taste of this approach:

The two lambs of the korban tamid represent the two pivotal events in Jewish history, whose memory is “always” with us: the tamid shel shachar (morning continual offering) symbolizes Yetzias Mitzrayim, which was chronologically the first event; the tamid shel bein ha’arbayim (afternoon continual offering) symbolizes Matan Torah, which was chronologically later. The lamb (כבש) was chosen for these offerings to teach that are we subordinate (נכבשים) to Hashem. 

The Abravanel, citing Chazal, explains that the four species involved in all the mussafim (except for Shabbos) represent the three Avos (forefathers) plus the Shvatim (Twelve Tribes). Avraham is represented by the bull, as it is stated: “And Avraham ran to the cattle” (Bereishis 18:7). Yitzchak is represented by the ram, as it is stated: “Behold! – there was a ram behind him” (ibid. 22:13). Yaakov is represented by the lamb: “and Yaakov separated the lambs” (ibid. 30:40). The Shvatim are represented by the he-goat, as it is stated: “and they slaughtered a he-goat” (ibid. 37:31). 

The Abravanel offers his own explanation for the mussaf of Rosh Chodesh which differs from Chazal. He holds that the mussaf of Rosh Chodesh was designed to remind us of how Bnei Yisrael were commanded in the mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh – our very first mitzvah – in Mitzrayim. The two bulls (פרים) represent Moshe and Aharon, through whom the mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh was given, and who caused Torah to be fruitful (פרים) in Israel. The one ram (איל) represents (lehavdil) Hashem, the all-powerful (בעל האילות), Who commanded Bnei Yisrael in the mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh. The seven lambs represent the seven tzadikim (righteous people) from whom Moshe and Aharon descended: (1) Noach, (2) Avraham, (3) Yitzchak, (4) Yaakov, (5) Levi, (6) Kehas, (7) Amram. The merit of these seven tzadikim stand by us, and protect us from the harmful occurrences that were set in motion with the beginning of the month. Alternatively, the two bulls (פרים) represent the sun and the moon, whose cyclical motion is responsible not only for our calendar, but for all of the fruits (פירות) of the world. The one ram alludes to the fact that we were given the mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh in the month of Nisan – the same month in which we offer the Korban Pesach (Pesach offering), which is brought from the same species as a ram. (Perhaps the Abravanel is also referring to the fact that the constellation of Nisan is the ram.) We bring seven lambs corresponding to the seven days of the Chag ha’Matzos (Festival of Matzah). 

As for the mussaf of Sukkos, the Abravanel quotes Chazal for the first part of his explanation and offers his original interpretations for the rest. The 70 bulls (13+12+11+10+9+8+7) represent the 70 nations of the world, or the 70 “angelic officers” appointed over them; their gradual diminution symbolizes the fact that they will ultimately be gradually diminished in the time leading up to Yemos ha’Moshiach (the Messianic Era). The two rams (אילים) represent the two most powerful nations alluded to in: “” (Devarim 32:14). The fourteen lambs represent the fourteen children of Yaakov: the twelve tribes – with Yosef being split into Ephraim and Menashe – plus Dinah. 

As you can see, there are major advantages and disadvantages within this approach. The advantage is that the use of a highly flexible symbolic language allows these korbanos to reflect a wide variety of concepts. Each mussaf becomes a dazzling allegorical ritual rich with meaning. The disadvantage is that an approach like this is highly speculative – as I wrote about in my post about the perils of metaphor – and lends itself to forced interpretations. Personally, I would accept this approach in the spirit of drash, but not as pshat. 

Approach #3 – Scientifically Symbolic: This, by far, is the most ambitious approach, and is spearheaded by the Ralbag. [3] The Ralbag maintains that the Beis ha’Mikdash and the avodas ha’korbanos (Divine service of the sacrificial order) was designed to teach us fundamental principles of science and metaphysics. Each and every detail of the avodah symbolizes a fact or a concept which helps us to understand the universe, and which ultimately brings us to knowledge and love of Hashem. Here are a few examples:

The Ralbag maintains that the seven lambs offered on the Shalosh Regalim (Three Pilgrimage Festivals) represent the seven levels of existences – or “forms” – in the universe: (1) elements, (2) minerals, (3) plant life, (4) animal life, (5) human life, (6) angels, and (7) Hashem.  

He explains that the mussaf of Rosh Chodesh was designed to teach us about the motion of the moon, which is the basis of our calendar: the seven lambs symbolize the seven causes of motion which move the seven planets; the one ram represents the mover of the Celestial Sphere which encompasses the seven planets; the two bulls represent the two movers of the Celestial Sphere – namely, the Active Intellect and Hashem (lehavdil). 

Similarly, he explains the mussafim of Rosh ha’Shanah and Yom ha’Kippurim as symbolically reflecting other ideas about the motions of the heavenly bodies: the one bull corresponds to the Active Intellect; the one ram corresponds to the Celestial Sphere which causes the motion of the planets; the seven lambs represent the seven planets; these animals add up to nine olah-offerings – not ten – because Hashem is the Prime Mover, and it would be inappropriate to include Him in the count (though the Ralbag also explains that this idea is alluded to in the fact that the time period between Rosh ha’Shanah and Yom ha’Kippurim is ten days). 

To me, this approach – if it were correct – would be the most impressive and significant. It gives me the chills to think about what it would be like if all of the laws of nature were modeled by the halachos which govern the avodah (service) in the Beis ha’Mikdash. The Mikdash would then truly be “a miniature universe.” 

Unfortunately, all of the Ralbag’s explanations were based on Aristotelian physics, which means that it is entirely invalid. I’m sure it was great while it lasted, though. 

To my knowledge, nobody in the modern age has attempted to follow the Ralbag’s approach according to our modern understanding of science. Furthermore, I have a feeling that if the Ralbag were alive today, and if he were aware of the rapid progress that science has made over the past few centuries, perhaps he would agree that it would be folly to suggest that the the fixed laws of the korbanos reflect our ever-changing scientific understanding of the universe. 

Approach #4 – No Explanation: Last but not least, there is the approach of the Rambam. In his discourse on the reasons for mitzvos in the Moreh ha’Nevuchim, [4] the Rambam writes about korbanos “we cannot say why one korban should be a lamb whilst another is a ram, and why a fixed number of them should be brought.” He adds that:

Those who trouble themselves to find reasons for any of these details are chasing after a huge delusion - one which not only fails to remove any difficulties, but increases them. Anyone who believes that these [details of the laws] have a purpose is as far from the truth as one who assumes that the entire mitzvah is without any real purpose. 

I have written about this at length in a previous blog post this summer, in which I attempted to demonstrate that the Rambam’s view is far more nuanced than it would appear at first glance. Nevertheless, it would seem that the Rambam would hold that at least some – if not all – of the questions we asked are a waste of time, because there are simply no answers. The details are arbitrary. 

The advantage of this approach is that it is entirely immune to speculation. It is impossible to be wrong about what the details of the korbanos teach us if one holds that they don’t teach us anything. The disadvantage of this approach is that it is extremely difficult to accept. Would the Rambam really look at the glaring patterns and anomalies in the mussafim and the questions we asked and conclude that these details are arbitrary? I find that hard to believe, especially since the Rambam does offer reasons for some of these details in the Moreh ha’Nevuchim. 

Still, I am including this in my list of approaches because the Rambam would definitely say that some details here are arbitrary. For example, he explicitly stated that if a person asks, “Why seven lambs and not eight?” then there is no answer; this detail is arbitrary. From this example alone we see a marked difference between the Rambam and many other meforshim. 

Roll safe, Rambam.

In conclusion, I hope this post can serve as something like a “starter kit” for exploring the topic of mussafim. I have provided a chart which summarizes the relevant facts, a list of questions for investigation, and a summary of the four approaches I’ve seen in the meforshim. “The rest,” as they say, “is commentary; go forth and learn.”

[1] Don Yitzchak Abravanel, Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar Chapter 28

[2] Rabbeinu Yosef Bechor Shor, Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 29:35

[3] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar: Parashas Pinchas (Toalos)

[4] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Moreh ha'Nevuchim 3:26

Mikdash, Moadim, and Tzedakah

I set out to write a blog post on a Shavuos related theme, but I realized that this idea doubles as a blog post on Parashas Emor and Parashas Kedoshim (hence the modified title below). This post was difficult to write since the themes it treats are so broad. Hopefully I did it justice.

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

Artwork: Plains (Kaladesh), by Clint Cearley

Parashas Emor/Kedoshim: Mikdash, Moadim, and Tzedakah

Parashas Emor is the first comprehensive presentation of the moadim (holidays). The Torah walks us through each of the moadim, providing us with details about their dates, their korbanos, their mitzvos, and - in some cases - their themes.

After completing the presentation of Shavuos, the pesukim take an unexpected detour before moving on to Rosh ha'Shanah. Here is the passage in context:

You shall count for yourselves - from the morrow of the rest day, from the day when you bring the Omer of the waving - seven weeks, they shall be complete. Until the morrow of the seventh week you shall count, fifty days; and you shall offer a new meal-offering to Hashem. From your dwelling places you shall bring bread that shall be waved, two loaves made of two tenth-ephah, they shall be fine flour, they shall be baked leavened; first-offerings to Hashem ... You shall convoke on this very day - there shall be a holy convocation for yourselves - you shall do no laborious work; it is an eternal decree in your dwelling places for your generations. When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not remove completely the corners of your field as you reap and you shall not gather the gleanings of your harvest; for the poor and the convert shall you leave them; I am Hashem, your God. (Vayikra 23:15-21)

Right in the middle of its presentation of the moadim is a reminder about the agricultural tzedakah mitzvos of peah (leaving the corners of the fields unharvested) and leket (leaving the ears of grain that fall to the ground). This unclaimed produce was left to be gathered by the poor, the convert, and the other downtrodden individuals, thereby ensuring their sustenance in a systemic nationwide manner. 

The commentators are bothered by the glaring question: What are these non-moadim-related mitzvos doing in the middle of the Torah's presentation of the moadim? It would be one thing if this were the primary place where the Torah discusses peah and leket, but it's not. In fact, these mitzvos were introduced a few chapters earlier, in Parashas Kedoshim. Their appearance here is clearly intended as a context-specific reminder. Why is this reminder needed?

Rashi [1] cites a midrash from Toras Kohanim [2] which explicitly addresses this question, albeit in a cryptic fashion:

Rav Avdimi b'Rebbi Yossi said: Why did the Torah see fit to place this [reminder] in the middle of the festivals, with Pesach and Atzeres on one side and Rosh ha'Shanah, Yom ha'Kippurim, and Sukkos on the other side? To teach you that anyone who properly gives leket, peah, and shichechah [3] to the poor - it is considered as though he built the Beis ha'Mikdash and brought its korbanos in it.

This answer raises yet another question: How are the mitzvos of leket, peah, and shichechah equivalent to building the Beis ha'Mikdash and offering korbanos in it? The two categories of mitzvos don't even seem related: the former pertains to the realm of agriculture and tzedakah in everyday life, while the latter pertains to the avodah of the kohanim in the world of Mikdash!

The Ibn Ezra provides us with a clue - not in Parashas Emor, but in Parashas Kedoshim, where these mitzvos first appear. The pesukim there follow a similar pattern:

When you slaughter a feast peace-offering to Hashem, you shall slaughter it to find favor for yourselves. On the day of your slaughter shall it be eaten and on the next day, and whatever remains until the third day, it is rejected - it shall not be accepted. Each of those who eat it will bear his iniquity, for what is sacred to Hashem has he desecrated; and that soul shall be cut off from its people. When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not complete your reaping to the corner of your field, and the gleanings of your harvest you shall not take. You shall not pick the undeveloped twigs of your vineyard; and the fallen fruit of your vineyard you shall not gather; for the poor and the convert shall you leave them - I am Hashem, your God. (Vayikra 19:5-10)

Here, too, we see halachos of korbanos followed by a mention of the agricultural mitzvos of leket and peah. The Ibn Ezra [4] remarks on this juxtaposition:

The meaning of "when you reap the harvest" after [these laws of] slaughtering a peace offering [is as follows:] just as you have given the parts of the korban to Hashem, so too, you shall give to the poor and to the convert from the harvest of your land - for the sake of kavod Hashem (honoring Hashem).

Ibn Ezra identifies the common denominator between korbanos and the agricultural mitzvos: they all result in a kiyum (effect/fulfillment) of kavod Hashem. The question is: How?

We tend to think about tzedakah in the framework of kindness, righteousness, and justice - not in the framework of honoring Hashem. This underappreciated aspect of tzedakah is referenced in at least one pasuk: "Honor Hashem with your wealth, and with the first of all your produce" (Mishlei 3:9). Ralbag [5] explains:

"Honor Hashem with your wealth" in the same way as the Torah commands you to give the first of all your produce, seeds, and fruits as gifts to the Kohanim and Leviim for the wondrous benefit of guiding you to recognize that all good things flow from Hashem.

Similarly, Ralbag [6] writes that the purpose of the Mikdash and its korbanos is:

... to guide us to believe in the Existence of God, Lord of all, and that it is proper for Him to be worshiped, for everything is from Him, and therefore we are obligated to honor Him with our wealth; He is of the utmost greatness and glory, and for this reason we make for Him this Mikdash which wondrous in its beauty, artistry, and quality of construction.

Herein lies the connection between the tzedakah-mitzvos of peah, leket, and shichechah, and the purpose of the Mikdash and its korbanos. Mikdash exists for the kavod Hashem, to bring all human beings to the recognition of His Existence, His Malchus (Kingship), and His beneficence which extends to all of His creatures. All of the korbanos and matanos (gifts) we bring to the Mikdash reinforce this recognition. The requirement to give of the fruits of our labor counteracts the kochi v'otzem yadi ("my might and the power of my hand made me this wealth") mentality by prompting us to realize that all of the good we enjoy comes from Hashem, and that "He opens His hand and satisfies the desire of every living thing" (cf. Tehilim 145:16).

However, it is not enough merely to know that Hashem is the Cause of the good. This knowledge must be real to us to the extent that it affects our actions, and compels us to emulate His ways. We were not created to be passive admirers and observers of the Creator, but to be active agents of His Will to do chesed, mishpat, and tzedakah on earth. To praise Hashem for His beneficence and not emulate His ways would be hypocritical, and would constitute a pgam (blemish) in His kavod. By observing these agricultural mitzvos as agents of His will to do chesed, mishat, and tzedakah, we are enhancing His kavod by demonstrating the extent to which the Melech cares for His subjects. By fulfilling the mitzvos of leket, peah, and shichechah, we are demonstrating through our actions that God not only provides for our needs, but He guarantees the provision of the needs of those unfortunate individuals who live on the fringes of society.

This kiyum of kavod Hashem is only complete when both components - Mikdash and tzedakah - are fulfilled in concert with each other. To only discharge our duties vis a vis Mikdash would constitute a recognition of Hashem as ha'Tov ve'ha'Meitiv (the One Who is Good and does good), but the benefit of that recognition would be limited to our own minds, and would not impact the world around us. Likewise, to only fulfill our tzedakah duties would be good insofar as our implementation of chesed, mishpat, and tzedakah in the world are concerned, but our actions would not reflect the recognition that all of the goodness and blessing we enjoy comes from Hashem. The proper framework is only achieved by doing both sets of mitzvos in conjunction with each other, and only then do we achieve the full kiyum of kavod Hashem.

This, I believe, is what the midrash in Toras Kohanim cited by Rashi is getting at. The proper fulfillment of the mitzvos of leket, peah, and shichechah complements the proper fulfillment of the mitzvos of Mikdash and its korbanos. Both sets of mitzvos bring us to an awareness that Hashem is the Cause of all good. The act of giving of tzedakah to the poor produces the same kiyum as building the Mikdash and bringing its korbanos - provided that one is aware of this idea.

In answering our question in his commentary on our pesukim, the Ralbag [7] emphasizes that this idea is especially true in relation to the specific mitzvos associated with Shavuos, namely, the minchas ha'omer (Barley Offering brought after Pesach) and the Shtei ha'Lechem (Two Loaves brought on Shavuos):

This [reminder of leket and peah] came in this place to teach us that for the same reason that Hashem commanded us to offer the Minchas ha'Omer and the Shtei ha'Lechem from the new harvest - namely, to remind us that everything comes from Hashem - He also commanded us to provide benefit from this [harvest] to the poor before it comes into our possession, in order to remind us that this comes from Hashem, and He desired us to provide the poor with their portion and ourselves with the remainder, for everything comes from Him.

Since Shavuos is the Harvest Festival (as will be explained in our next post), the pesukim about Shavuos is the most appropriate place to remind us of this relationship between the agricultural mitzvos and Mikdash, though the idea is pertinent to all moadim and all korbanos in Mikdash year-round.

[1] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Vayikra 23:22
[2] Toras Kohanim 13:12
[3] "shichechah" is another mitzvah in the same category as leket and peah. We are required to leave "forgotten" bundles of grain in the field to be claimed by the poor. Since it's in the same family as leket and peah, I'm going to continue to mention it along with them for the remainder of this post, even if all three aren't specified by the meforshim.
[4] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra (Ibn Ezra), Commentary on Vayikra 19:9
[5] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides) Commentary on Sefer Mishlei 3:9

[6] ibid. Commentary on Sefer Shemos 25, ha'toeles ha'shelishi
[7] ibid. Commentary on Sefer Vayikra 23:22

Parashas Naso: The True Meaning of Shivim Panim la'Torah

Originally published in June 2013. Note that this was the precursor of my other posts about pshat vs. drash, and contains some repetition of material. 

Picture of the mizrak (silver basin), courtesy of http://templeinstitute.org

Parashas Naso: The True Meaning of Shivim Panim la'Torah

The phrase “shivim panim la'Torah” – literally, “there are seventy faces to the Torah” – is frequently cited in order to authorize the coexistence of mutually exclusive interpretations. Some people invoke shivim panim to express such sentiments as “all opinions are equally valid.” Does this conventional usage reflect the true meaning of shivim panim la’Torah, or did Chazal have something else in mind? 

The source of shivim panim la’Torah is an enigmatic midrash on Parshas Naso. The Torah recounts the identical contributions made by the leaders of each tribe at the inauguration of the Mishkan. The midrash expounds on the offering of Nesanel ben Tzuar in particular. It states that Nesanel ben Tzuar “made an offering to represent the Torah, because the members of his tribe loved the Torah more than any of the other tribes.” [1] The midrash then goes on to show how each and every component of his offering symbolizes a different feature of Torah.

One of the items donated by Nesanel ben Tzuar was “one silver basin (mizrak) of seventy shekels in the sacred shekel” (Bamidbar 7:19). The midrash explains the significance of this basin as follows:

One silver basin represents the Torah which has been likened to wine, as it is stated, "And drink of the wine which I have mingled" (Mishlei 9:5). Now because it is customary to drink wine in a basin – as you may gather from the text, "They who drink wine in basins" (Amos 6:6) – therefore, he brought a basin. Why "of seventy shekels, after the shekel of the sanctuary"? As the numerical value of yayin (wine) is seventy, so there are shivim panim la’Torah.

The question is: What insight is the midrash trying to teach us? The midrash is very cryptic and doesn't elaborate on the meaning of shivim panim la’Torah. What are we supposed to learn from the comparison between wine in a silver wine basin and the Torah’s “seventy faces”?

In my search for an answer to this question, I came across a curious discovery: whenever the Rishonim [2] apply the principle of shivim panim la’Torah, they apply it exclusively to drash – not to pshat. I believe this is an essential clue to decoding the midrash, but first, let us review the distinction between pshat and drash.

In his introduction to the Aseres ha’Dibros, Ibn Ezra writes: “words are like bodies and meanings are like souls, and the body to the soul is like a vessel.” That is to say, the words of a pasuk serve as the vehicle by means of which the meanings are conveyed. Ralbag, in his introduction to Shir ha’Shirim, utilizes this distinction as the basis for defining pshat and drash. According to Ralbag, “pshat” refers to the meaning that the author [3] intended to convey through the words of the pasuk. “Drash,” on the other hand, is a homiletic device in which the words of a pasuk are used as a platform to teach an extrinsic idea – an idea which may or may not bear any relation meaning intended by the author [4]. 

In light of this distinction, we can now understand the meaning of shivim panim la’Torah in the midrash and we can also explain why the Rishonim apply the principle of shivim panim la’Torah to exclusively to drash and not to pshat. According to our midrash, it is not the content of the vessel (i.e. the “wine of Torah”) which has shivim panim, but the vessel itself (i.e. the words of the Torah’s pesukim). This is an important feature of the Torah’s beauty and perfection. In books authored by human beings, the words convey pshat and nothing more. In the case of the Torah, however, not only do the words of the pesukim teach fundamental ideas on a pshat level, but they also double as a platform for teaching countless valuable ideas by way of drash. 

Now we can truly appreciate the beauty of the idea about Torah that Nesanel ben Tzuar expressed through his donation of the silver basin. Moreover, we can now understand the subtlety of the Rishonic application of shivim panim la’Torah, in contrast to the conventional usage. 

[1] Bamidbar Rabbah 13:15-16 

[2] Sefer ha’Chinuch: Mitzvah #95; Ibn Ezra: Introduction to Torah; Ramban: Bereishis 8:4; Sefer Maharil: Likkutim 77; Shailos u’Tshuvos ha’Radvaz 3:643; Shiltei ha’Giborim: Avodah Zarah daf 6a b’dapei ha’Rif. If anyone finds instances of shivim panim la’Torah in the Rishonim which are not in the context of drash, please send them my way! 

[3] To be precise, we should use the term “Author” (with a capital “A”) when referring to Chumash, and “author” (with a lowercase “a”) when referring to the rest of Nach. 

[4] For example, the Torah says: “The woman [Yocheved] conceived and bore a son, and she saw that he was good” (Shemos 2:2). Ibn Ezra gives the pshat of the pasuk, namely, that Yocheved saw that her newborn child looked good. Chazal, on the other hand, expound on the pasuk by way of drash: “The entire house became filled with light when he was born, for it is written here ‘and she saw that he was good’ and it is written elsewhere ‘And God saw that the light was good’ (Bereishis 1:4).” This idea, while valuable in and of itself, is extrinsic to the meaning of the pasuk itself, and does not necessarily reflect the pshat.

Torah as Melachah (Craft)

Originally posted in July of 2012. Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Torah as Melachah (Craft)

Every communal korban minchah (flour-offering) must be brought in the form of matzah (unleavened bread). There is only one exception to this rule: the shtei ha'lechem (Two Loaves) on the Chag ha'Shavuos, which consists of two loaves of lechem chamtetz (leavened bread). What is the reason for this anomaly? 

The Ralbag's answer (see Vayikra 23) sheds light on the nature of entire Torah-regimen:

The Torah commands us on the Chag ha’Shavuos to bring a minchah-offering of chametz. The idea is as follows: the Chag ha’Shavuos is – as we explained in Parshas Yisro – a commemoration of Matan Torah (the giving of the Torah), which is a wondrous expression of Hashem’s kindness to us, in that He brought us close to His service and caused us to inherit eternal life. In addition to this, there are material goods which emanate from Torah, such as the inheritance of the Land and the material goods which are bestowed upon us through hashgachah pratis (divine providence). 

Before man’s actions and concepts are perfected through the Torah-regimen, his actions and concepts are deficient – just like matzah-bread, which lacks the perfection of leavening. But afterwards, man’s actions and concepts become perfected, like chametz-bread, which has the greatest degree of perfection. 

For this reason, Hashem commanded us to eat matzah with the meat of the pesach-offering, and He commanded us to bring a minchah-offering of chametz on the day of Matan Torah. In order to firmly establish this intention in us, the Torah singled out the minchah-offering of the Chag ha’Shavuos to be chametz, in contrast to other minchah-offerings, in order to open our eyes to understand the truth of this intention. 

This serves the additional purpose of elucidating the essence and character of the Torah. The Torah is not in the class of "natural phenomena," but rather, it perfects us – in the same manner that many of the melachos ("crafts" or "arts") assist nature and perfect it (e.g. agriculture and other such arts). The same is true with Torah: man’s natural capacity to acquire human perfections is actualized through the Torah-regimen by those who practice it in a perfect manner. Moreover, just as the melachos which perfect nature are enacted by free choice, the same is true with the Torah-regimen. 

For these reasons, the perfection attained by means of Torah is compared to the perfection attained by means of melachah, as alluded to by the fact that the minchah-offering on the day of Matan Torah must be made from chametz-bread.

In order to better understand and appreciate the full import of the Ralbag's explanation, it would behoove us to review the Ralbag's definition of Torah, as expressed in the first paragraph of his introduction to Torah:

Blessed and exalted be the Rock, Who, with His Understanding, His Wisdom, and His Knowledge, gives existence to all existing things – the existence of which manifests a chochmah (wisdom) and chaninah (beneficence) that none but He can completely apprehend. Praised be the Creator, Who, out of His desire to benefit these existences and to bring them from deficient existence to complete existence, directed His hashgachah (providence) upon these lowly existences, developing them stage by stage until He reached the existence of man. In addition to directing His hashgachah on man’s existence in the wondrous design of his anatomy, his abilities, and the faculties by which his [physical] existence is preserved, He did not refrain from directing His hashgachah on man by guiding him on the path to true perfection – man’s ultimate state of existence, for the sake of which this lowly material existence was endowed with tzurah (design) to the extent that it is. He did this by giving us the divine Torah, which is a nimus (regimen) that brings those who practice it properly to the true success.

The Ralbag views Torah as a stage in the unfolding of the same hashgachah that brought all other existences from the state of deficient (potential) existence to complete (actual) existence. He even goes so far as to compare the Torah-regimen to the biological processes which govern our physical existence and development. Just as Hashem created the systems of biological laws which enable us to sustain our physical bodies, so too, He created the system of Torah laws which bring us to "complete existence," "true perfection," and "true success" - namely, perfection as a tzelem Elokim. But unlike the natural laws which govern our physical development, the laws of the Torah must be enacted through knowledge and free choice. This is where the mashal of melachah comes into the picture. 

According to the Ralbag, the Torah is designed to bring about human perfection in the same manner as the other forms of melachah - specifically, those melachos which "assist nature and perfect it." Fruits, vegetables, and grains occur in nature and grow without human intervention. The job of the farmer is to cooperate with the processes of nature and to facilitate the emergence of its products in a more perfected and complete manner. Likewise, Hashem designed the human body with the capacity to heal itself. The job of the doctor is to assist the body to heal itself with maximal efficiency. 

The same is true in the case of Torah. Man is capable of perfecting himself without Torah. It is even possible for human beings to reach great heights of perfection without Torah, as we see in the cases of Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov, Moshe, Aharon, Miriam, and a small number of others. That small number testifies to the extreme difficulty of reaching perfection without Torah, which is why (or one of the reasons why) Hashem gave the Torah to us and obligated us to keep it. Without Torah, we really wouldn't stand a chance. 

There are many tremendous implications of the Ralbag's statement that the Torah "is not in the class of natural phenomena, but rather, it perfects us – in the same manner that many of the melachos assist nature and perfect it," but in this post, I'd only like to focus on one of those implications: the need for excellence in Torah-craftsmanship. 

The laws of Torah are not like the laws which govern the development of an embryo or the growth of a plant. In contrast to the laws of nature, which produce results consistently and "automatically" (not in the sense that they operate independently of Hashem, but in the sense that their operation is not contingent on the application of human skill and human judgment), the Torah-regimen varies widely in its "products" and its rate of success. In some cases, the Torah-regimen will produce Rebbi Akivas, Rambams, and Rav Soloveitchiks. In other cases, the Torah will produce amei ha'aretz (ignoramuses) and "stam baalei batim" ("ordinary laymen"). And in other cases, the Torah will - in spite of itself - yield Korachs, Yeravam ben Navats, and other reshaim (wicked people). 

Why does the Torah produce such a variety of results? There are many reasons, no doubt. But to a large extent, the results of the Torah-regimen are dependent on the level of "craftsmanship" of the Torah practitioner. The Ralbag acknowledges this by explicitly qualifying his statements about the perfection achieved through Torah. In both of the aforementioned excerpts, the Ralbag says that the Torah achieves its purpose only for those "who practice it properly" or "those who practice it in a perfect manner." Yes, it is true that some people are more likely to "succeed" in Torah than others, whether by virtue of their innate dispositions, their upbringing, or their environmental circumstances - but most of those factors are largely outside of our control. What we can control and work on is developing our own proficiency in "Torah-craftsmanship" - or, if you prefer, "the skilled practice of the Torah-regimen."

There are many ways to view Torah. Chazal, themselves, compared Torah to many different things: water, wine, fire, etc. It would be a mistake to assume that these analogies were intended as absolute definitions. Rather, each analogy illuminates different dimensions of the infinitely deep and multifaceted Torah-regimen. I think that the Ralbag's comparison of Torah to melachah should be taken in that spirit. Personally I have found that the Ralbag's comparison of the Torah-regimen to craft has enriched my practice of Torah immeasurably, and I hope it does the same for you.