“Hump Day,” Wednesday, and Yom Revii l’Shabbos

The Torah content for these two weeks has been sponsored by Judah and Naomi Dardik in loving memory of Rabbi Moskowitz zt''l, who taught his students to pursue truth by asking questions, who modeled love of Torah and learning, and who exemplified living a life of the mind.

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Artwork: Sisyphus (cropped), by Jeffrey Hummel

“Hump Day,” Wednesday, and Yom Revii l’Shabbos

I was sitting in Starbucks when I heard a customer exclaim to the barista, "happy hump day!" For those who aren’t familiar with this American idiom, here’s an explanation from grammarist.com:

Hump day is an idiom that means Wednesday, a day of the week. The term hump day first appeared in the 1960s in North America, most probably in business offices. Hump day is based on the idea that the work week is a mountain one must climb. The general office work week is Monday through Friday, consisting of five days. This puts Wednesday in the middle, or at the peak or hump of the work week. Monday and Tuesday are the “climbing” days of the week, and are therefore psychologically difficult to get through. Wednesday is the highest part of this climb up a proverbial mountain. The thinking goes that if one can make it to hump day, then Thursday and Friday are an easy slide into the weekend.

Upon hearing the exchange in Starbucks, I immediately thought to myself, “Thank God I’m Jewish.” Allow me to explain.

In the Aseres ha’Dibros in Yisro, the mitzvah of Shabbos is introduced with: “Remember the Shabbos day to sanctify it” (Shemos 20:7). Although this is primarily a reference to kiddush, Chazal also say: “Do not count [the days of the week] as others count; rather, count in the name of Shabbos” (Mechilta d’Rebbi Yishmael, Shemos 20:7). In Judaism, we do not refer to the days of the week with proper nouns. Instead, we identify each day by its ordinal relationship to Shabbos. Thus, instead of saying, “Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, etc.” we say, “the 1st day [counting down] to Shabbos, the 2nd day [counting down] to Shabbos, the 3rd day [counting down] to Shabbos, etc.” Ramban (ibid.) provides several rationales for this:

According to the pshat (straightforward meaning), [the Sages] said that it is a mitzvah to remember Shabbos every day so that we neither forget it nor mix it up with other days, for by remembering it continually, we recall the creation every day and gratefully acknowledge that the universe has a Creator, and that He commanded us in this sign, as He said: “for it is a sign between Me and you” (Shemos 31:13), and it is a fundamental principal of our conviction in God.

In other words, this naming convention converts each weekday into a vehicle for remembering Shabbos. According to the Ramban, this accomplishes three things: (a) it reduces the chances of forgetting which day is Shabbos, (b) it reinforces the fundamental truth that Hashem created the universe, and (c) it prompts us to recall, with gratitude, that He commanded us in the institution of Shabbos, which not only preserves the truth of briah yesh me'ayin (creation ex nihilo), but also affords us the many benefits of a day of rest. And while most of us do not actually refer to the days of the week in this manner, we make sure to fulfill this daily recollection at the end of shacharis every morning when we recite the shir shel yom, which is preceded by mentioning the day of the week in accordance with this formula.

How different – and how superior – is our name for this day in comparison to “Wednesday” and “hump day”! According to Wikipedia, “Wednesday” is derived from the Old English Wōdnesdæg and Middle English Wednesdei, meaning “day of Woden,” which is the Anglo-Saxon equivalent of the Norse god Odin. Although “Wednesday” is the term we use most often, its origin is undoubtedly pagan. Even if that isn’t halachically problematic, it’s not ideal from a Torah perspective. Calling Wednesday “hump day” underscores the burden of the workweek without any reference to what we are working towards or why we are working. In truth, “hump day” is actually a veiled complaint: “Finally we’re halfway through the toil of this week!” This idiom elevates our own feelings of annoyance and relief to the level of primacy.

In contrast to both of these, “yom revii l’Shabbos” (“the 4th day [counting down] to Shabbos”) is free from these negative associations. Instead, it brings to mind the halachic system, evokes a fundamental idea with far-reaching philosophical and ethical implications, and awakens feelings of gratitude to Hashem for the world we live in, the nation we belong to, and the mitzvos we have been given. That is why hearing “happy hump day!” made me thank God that I am Jewish. And now my hope is that the next time you hear the term "hump day," it causes you to remember Shabbos.

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Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

My Experience Fasting for 48 Hours on the 9th and 10th of Av

This week's Torah content is sponsored by a generous donor who wishes to remain anonymous, and told me, "No thanks needed!" so I'm not going to thank them.

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fast began at 8:30pm on Saturday (7/17) and ended at 9:00pm on Monday (7/19)

My Experience Fasting for 48 Hours on the 9th and 10th of Av

I’ve been doing intermittent fasting all year, for health and for energy. I generally fast between 17-19 hours each weekday. “Fasting” in this context means not consuming any calories. I still drink water, coffee, and tea. I had never fasted longer than the standard 25 hour taanis (fast) on Yom ha’Kippurim and Tishah b’Av, but after learning about the health benefits of fasting for 48 hours, I decided to give it a try this year. My plan was to break my Tishah b’Av fast on water and tea, then continue fasting until at least the next morning, if not longer.

In my mind, this extension of my fast had nothing to do with halacha. I figured that since I was drinking fluids, then this wouldn’t count as a halachic taanis. That is, until I saw this Tur (Orach Chayim 558):

It was taught in a Baraisa: "On the 7th of Av the gentiles entered the Sanctuary. They ate and drank and wreaked havoc on the 8th and the 9th until late in the day. Towards the evening they lit a fire in it, and it burned until sunset of the 10th." R' Yochanan said: "If I were there, I would have established [the commemoration] on the 10th, when the majority of the Sanctuary burned." It says in the Yerushalmi that R’ Avin fasted on the 9th and the 10th, [whereas] R' Levi fasted on the 9th and the night of the 10th because he didn't have the energy to fast for the entire night and day of the 10th. Nowadays, our energy has waned, and even Yom ha'Kippurim, which would be proper to observe out of safek (doubt) for two days, we are unable to do. Nevertheless, it is a proper minhag to not eat meat on the night of the 10th and the day of the 10th, but only what restores the soul, which is partial inui (affliction).

It is clear from the Yerushalmi that fasting on the 10th of Av is an ideal to strive for, since that’s when the majority of the Sanctuary was burned. The Ramban (Moed Katan 28b) explains that these Amoraim extended their fasts as a minhag chasidus (a custom of piety), and that “the more one mourns over Yerushalayim, the more meritorious it is for him.” Even a partial fast would count for something, as we see from R’ Levi’s fast on the night of the 10th.

Less clear, however, is the scope of the “proper minhag” mentioned by the Tur at the end. According to the Taz’s explanation of the Tur, the minhag is to refrain specifically from meat – a food associated with simchah (rejoicing) – but there is no kiyum (halachic fulfillment) whatsoever of abstaining from other types of food. According to the Bach, the Tur’s minhag is to refrain from eating even non-meat food, except for “that which restores the soul,” since this abstention constitutes “partial inui.” Thus, according to the Bach, my extended fast would constitute a kiyum in “fasting on the 10th of Av,” despite my consumption of liquids. If abstaining from non-restorative food is a kiyum because it produces inui, then kal va’chomer abstaining from all food!

But then I asked myself whether my fast really did fulfill the minhag. After all, I was doing this for health reasons, not as an expression of mourning, which – according to the Ramban – is what makes this fasting meritorious. In an effort to “legitimize my fasting,” I spent all morning and afternoon learning through the relevant sources to understand the purpose of what I was doing. I made it my mission to find an idea worthy of writing up as an article. The result? I learned a lot, but I didn’t find anything that I deemed profound enough for even a one-page article.

I was about to give up on the search and the article when I realized that this health-motivated 48-hour fasting experiment fit right into my goal of prolonging reflection on the ideas of Tishah b’Av beyond the demands of halacha. Indeed, my observance of this minhag caused me to spend an extra day learning about Tishah b’Av! What began as a non-halachic health experiment became a she’lo lishmah observance of a real minhag (at least, according to the Bach). This might not have yielded transformative insight this year, but it will certainly pave the way for such insight in the future. This is yet another example of “a person should always learn Torah even she’lo lishmah, because from she’lo lishmah one will come to lishmah” (Midrash Eichah Hakdamah 2). And that is a win in my book.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you. 

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Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here. 

Vaeschanan: Avodah Zarah – Three Fundamental Premises

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Artwork: Klothys, God of Destiny (Alternate), by Jason A. Engle

Vaeschanan: Avodah Zarah – Three Premises

After recapping the event of the Revelation at Sinai, Moshe Rabbeinu warns Bnei Yisrael about the dangers of avodah zarah (idolatry): 

But you shall greatly beware for your souls, for you did not see any likeness on the day Hashem spoke to you at Horeb, from the midst of the fire, lest you act corruptly and make yourselves a carved image, a likeness of any shape; a form of a male or a female; a form of any animal on the earth; a form of any winged bird that flies in the heaven; a form of anything that creeps on the ground, a form of any fish that is in the water under the earth; and lest you raise your eyes to heaven and you see the sun, and the moon, and the stars – the entire legion of heaven – and you be drawn away and bow to them and worship them, which Hashem, your God, has apportioned to all the peoples under the entire heaven! … Beware for yourselves lest you forget the covenant of Hashem, your God, that He has sealed with you, and you make yourselves a carved image, a likeness of anything, as Hashem, your God, has commanded you. For Hashem, your God – He is a consuming fire – a jealous God. (Devarim 4:15-19, 23-24) 

It is difficult for the modern reader to relate to these severe warnings. We have a hard time understanding why our ancestors were tempted to make graven images, bow down to idols, and venerate the heavenly bodies. For this reason, the Torah’s campaign against avodah zarah can appear excessive, outdated, and irrelevant. It seems as though mankind has moved on, and the Torah’s hard-line anti-avodah zarah stance carries little to no meaning for most Jews today. 

The view of avodah zarah as irrelevant is incorrect. In this post I will present an overview of three fundamental premises about avodah zarah which, when considered together, demonstrate the central place that avodah zarah occupies in the Torah regimen. 

Fundamental Premise #1: Opposition to Avodah Zarah as the Essence of Torah 

There are 613 mitzvos. According to the Rambam, 51 of these mitzvos are thematically related to avodah zarah, the laws of which he codifies in Hilchos Avodah Zarah. Of these 51, only around 20 of them are practically relevant to most Jews today – and that’s a generous estimate. 

One might infer from the above that avodah zarah is merely an aspect or a component of Torah. This is inaccurate. In truth, the essential mission of the entire Torah is to uproot avodah zarah. There are many sources which express this concept. Here are a few: 

• Chazal [1] teach “anyone who believes [2] in avodah zarah is like one who denies the entire Torah, and anyone who denies avodah zarah is like one who believes in the entire Torah.” [3]
• Similarly, Chazal [4] say that “one who denies avodah zarah is called a Jew (Yehudi).” 
• The Rambam [5] states: “the purpose of the entire Torah and the center around which everything revolves is the removal and annihilation of every trace of avodah zarah.” 
• The Sefer ha’Chinuch [6] refers to the belief in Hashem’s existence as “the foundation of the religion,” but identifies avodah zarah as “the root of the entire Torah upon which all else depends.” 
• The Ramban [7] also calls avodah zarah “the root of all mitzvos.” 
• Halachically, a Jew who worships avodah zarah has the halachic status of non-Jew with regards to all matters. Likewise, a Jew who is an apostate to avodah zarah is considered to be an apostate to the entire Torah. [8]

It is clear from these statements that avodah zarah is not simply a part of Torah. Rather, opposition to avodah zarah is the essence of Torah. Thus, to say that avodah zarah is no longer relevant to our lives would be to say that the Torah, itself, has lost its relevance. 

Moreover, we see from here that in order to understand the centrality of avodah zarah, we must expand our definition of avodah zarah to encompass more than the limited set of halachically proscribed behaviors. This leads us to the second fundamental premise. 

Fundamental Premise #2: Philosophical vs. Halachic Avodah Zarah 

When Chazal and the Rishonim say that the Torah’s essential mission is to uproot avodah zarah, their comments not limited to the specific set of actions and beliefs halachically proscribed by the 51 mitzvos mentioned above, such as bowing down to idols, making offerings to other gods, believing in and worshipping other deities, etc. 

This brings us to the distinction between halachic avodah zarah and philosophical avodah zarah. Halachic avodah zarah refers to those acts which are legally prohibited within the technical parameters of the halachic system. In contrast, philosophical avodah zarah refers to any act which derives from the thoughts, feelings, and general worldview of avodah zarah. 

The easiest way to grasp this distinction is to consider cases which would not constitute halachic avodah zarah, but would still be considered philosophical avodah zarah. For instance, a person who passes all of his children through the ritual Molech-fire is not liable for violating the Torah’s prohibition of worshipping Molech. Why not? Because halachic avodah zarah is only prohibited if it was done b’derech avodasah (in the customary manner). For this reason a person is only halachically culpable for worshipping Molech if he passes some of his children through the ritual fire, since that is how Molech was customarily worshipped; passing all of one’s children through the fire was not a sanctioned practice in the cult of Molech, and would therefore not be prohibited according to Torah law. But is such a person culpable for philosophical avodah zarah? Absolutely! To believe in – and certainly to worship – any god other than Hashem constitutes philosophical avodah zarah, even if the worshipper’s actions would not qualify as halachic avodah zarah due to a technicality. 

Another example is Christianity. Some Rishonim, such as the Rambam [9], unequivocally maintain that Christianity is halachically avodah zarah on account of the doctrine of the Trinity. The god Christians worship is a triune deity, and is therefore not a legitimate form of monotheism – unlike Islam. Others, such as the Baalei Tosafos [10], classify the doctrine of the Trinity as shituf (“co-sovereignty”), which they maintain is not halachically prohibited for non-Jews. For this reason, the Baalei Tosafos hold that we do not treat Christians as idolaters. Nevertheless, despite this halachic disagreement, both the Rambam and the Baalei Tosafos would agree that the Christian worship of the Trinity constitutes philosophical avodah zarah, since they are worshipping a god other than Hashem. 

How is the distinction between halachic and philosophical avodah zarah relevant to our discussion? Because whereas halachic avodah zarah is confined to the 51 mitzvos in Hilchos Avodah Zarah and their technical laws, philosophical avodah zarah plays a role in a far broader range of mitzvos. For example: 

• Thematically and halachically, Shabbos is the antithesis of avodah zarah, as I wrote about in my article Shabbos, Avodah Zarah, and Skilah. 
• Yetzias Miztrayim (the Exodus from Egypt) was orchestrated as a polemic against the avodah zarah of Egypt, as I wrote about in my article Chametz – Why So Serious? Thus, every holiday which commemorates an aspect of Yetzias Mitzrayim and every mitzvah which reminds us of Yetzias Mitzrayim is, by extension, related to avodah zarah. 
• According to the Rambam [11], the entire avodah (divine service) in the Mikdash (Temple) was designed to uproot avodah zarah. 
• There are numerous chukim (mitzvos whose reasons are not obvious) which the commentators explain to be aimed at uprooting specific avodah zarah beliefs and practices. These include mitzvos pertaining to kashrus, arayos (prohibited sexual relations), kilayim (prohibited mixtures), and more. 

The more one delves into the taamei ha’mitzvos (the reasons or objectives of the commandments), the more one comes to realize the truth of the Ramban’s assertion that “avodah zarah is the root of all mitzvos” – but only if we understand this to be referring to philosophical avodah zarah, rather than halachic avodah zarah. 

And this is especially true in light of our third fundamental premise. 

Fundamental Premise #3: The Derech Avodah Zarah 

Avodah zarah has no basis in reality – that is, in the objective external world. Rather, it stems from the subjective internal world of the psyche. There are certain internal trends (instincts, feelings, beliefs, habits, urges, insecurities, neuroses) which give rise to both philosophical and halachic avodah zarah. These internal psychological trends may be characterized as the derech avodah zarah (literally, “the way of idolatry” or “idolatrous psychological tendencies”). 

For example, to attribute supernatural powers to a physical object is derech avodah zarah, even if one recognizes that such a belief is irrational and doesn’t act on it. To be frightened of the number 13 is derech avodah zarah, even if a person doesn’t change his or her decisions in order to avoid this “unlucky” number and knows that numbers can’t cause any harm. According to the Rambam, who maintains that all forms of magic, sorcery, and occult practices are false and ineffective, it would be the derech avodah zarah to believe that they are real, even if one doesn’t actually engage in such practices. 

One of my rabbeim described such superstitious thoughts and feelings as “the soil in which avodah zarah grows.” My Rosh ha’Yeshiva defined the derech avodah zarah as the tendency to “treat the products of the psyche as a reality.” In addition to eliminating halachic and philosophical avodah zarah, the Torah also endeavors to curb, uproot, and sublimate the derech avodah zarah. According to both the Rambam [12] and the Ramban [13], we are enjoined by Hashem to strive for this ideal in the statement: “tamim tihiyeh im Hashem Elokechah (you shall be whole with Hashem, your God)” (Devarim 18:13). This is a tall order – one which was asked of no less than Avraham Avinu: “He said to him, ‘I am E-l Sha-dai. Walk before Me and be whole” (Bereishis 17:1). The path to this state of temimus lifei Hashem (wholeness before Hashem) truly encompasses the entire Torah, with all of its mitzvos and teachings. 

It is for this reason that caution is needed with regards to the derech avodah zarah. Halachic avodah zarah is prohibited across the board. Philosophical avodah zarah is opposed in other ways. But the derech avodah zarah is so deeply rooted that it is not always addressed. Indeed, sometimes Chazal even sanctioned practices which are rooted in the derech avodah zarah. 

An example of this is given by the Meiri [14] in his explanation of Chazal’s treatment of zugos (literally “pairs”). In the olden days, people harbored superstitious feelings about doing things in “pairs.” This posed an obstacle to the mitzvah of the Four Cups on Pesach, since we drink the wine in pairs. The Gemara in Pesachim gives various reasons as to why drinking a pair of pairs of cups on Pesach will not result in harm (e.g. Pesach is described as “a night of guarding” in that it is guarded from harmful spirits; the fact that these cups have blessings recited over them negates the harm). The problem with these answers is that Chazal seem to be endorsing the derech avodah zarah! The Meiri answers this problem by explaining why they did this: 

In many places we have explained that in those days the people were drawn after folk superstitions, such as incantations and omens and folk practices. Anything which did not contain a habit of avodah zarah and darchei ha’Emori (“ways of the Amorites” – idolatrous customs which are prohibited by Torah), [the Sages] did not bother to uproot. Even more so regarding those matters which were accustomed to them. 

In other words, if a particular practice constituted actual avodah zarah, Chazal would have stopped it. But if people harbored superstitious feelings about something which was not actually avodah zarah, not only did Chazal refrain from uprooting them, but they even “catered” to them by providing explanations which indirectly validated the erroneous premises of these derech avodah zarah feelings. 

Nevertheless, one who seeks to attain the level of tamim tihiyeh will strive to understand the origins of avodah zarah within the human psyche, to develop a sensitivity to the derech avodah zarah in themselves, and to strive to counteract those derech avodah trends. 

Conclusion 

In light of these three premises we can see that the warnings about avodah zarah given by Moshe Rabbeinu before his death are relevant today just as they were 3,300 years ago. Avodah zarah is not an antiquated component of Torah, but its very foundation. Halachic avodah zarah may be limited in its scope, especially in a post-pagan era, but philosophical avodah zarah is alive and well. Overt acts of avodah zarah may be avoidable, but the derech avodah zarah is insidious, and continuous to plague us despite our sophistication. 

End Notes

[1] Sifre Devarim 11:28

[2] lit. “admits to” or “acknowledges [the validity of]” or “upholds.” 

[3] This statement is codified by the Rambam in Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Avodah Zarah 2:4 

[4] Talmud Bavli Maseches Megilah 13a 

[5] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Moreh ha’Nevuchim 3:37 

[6] Sefer ha’Chinuch Mitzvah #26 

[7] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Devarim 4:3 

[8] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Avodah Zarah 2:5 

[9] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah: Avodah Zarah 1:3; Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Avodah Zarah 9:4; Sefer Kedushah, Hilchos Maachalos Assuros 11:7 

[10] see Tosafos Sanhedrin 63b and Bechoros 2b; full disclosure – I have not learned Tosafos’s view firsthand. 

[11] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Moreh ha’Nevuchim 3:32 

[12] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Avodah Zarah 11:16 

[13] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Devarim 18:13 and Bereishis 17:1 

[14] Rabbeinu Menachem ben Shlomo Meiri, Beis ha’Bechirah Pesachim 109b

Devarim: Deserving Israel is Not Enough

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Disclaimer: this article is not intended to reflect any particular political stance on Israeli policy. 

Devarim: Deserving Israel is Not Enough 

Many Jews feel that we are entitled to take possession of the Land of Israel because it was promised to the Avos (i.e. Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov) as an inheritance to their offspring (i.e. us). While this is true, it is only half of the truth. The mere fact that the Land of Israel was promised to the Avos is not, in and of itself, a sufficient reason to justify our conquest of it. There is another consideration which is explicitly stated in the contract made by Hashem when He promised Avraham the Land. 

But let us start with our parashah. Much of Parashas Devarim is a recap of Bnei Yisrael’s journey through the Wilderness. Chapter 1 recounts the first part of the journey, from Sinai until the Sin of the Spies. Chapter 2 skips ahead 39 years to the events that were detailed at end of Sefer Bamidbar, as Bnei Yisrael began their conquest of the nations that lived in and around Israel. Moshe Rabbeinu recalls Hashem’s instructions regarding our interactions with these nations, beginning with the children of Eisav who occupied the land of Seir: 

Hashem said to me, saying … “You shall command the people, saying: ‘You are passing through the boundary of your brothers, the children of Eisav, who dwell in Seir; they will fear you, but you should be very careful. You shall not provoke them, for I shall not give you of their land even the right to set foot, for I have given Mount Seir as an inheritance to the children of Eisav.” (Devarim 2:2-5) 

Next, Moshe recounts a similar set of instructions regarding the Moabites and their land: 

Hashem said to me: “You shall not distress Moav and you shall not provoke war with them, for I shall not give you an inheritance from their land, for the children of Lote have I given Ar as an inheritance.” (ibid. 2:9) 

Likewise, regarding the Ammonites and their land: 

Hashem spoke to me, saying: “This day you shall cross the border of Moav, at Ar, and you shall approach opposite the children of Ammon; you shall not distress them and you shall not provoke them, for I shall not give any of the land of the children of Ammon to you as an inheritance, for to the children of Lote have I given it as an inheritance.” (ibid. 2:17-19) 

Finally Bnei Yisrael reach a people and a land that they are commanded to conquer: 

“Rise up and cross Amon Brook; see! Into your hand have I delivered Sichon, king of Cheshbone, the Amorite, and his land; begin to possess it, and provoke war with him. This day I shall begin to place dread and fear of you on the peoples under the entire heaven, when they hear of your reputation, and they will tremble and be anxious before you.” (ibid. 2:24-25) 

At first glance one might think that Bnei Yisrael were enjoined to conquer Sichon’s land because, unlike the lands of Eisav, Moav, and Ammon, the land of the Amorites had not been apportioned to them as an inheritance, and was therefore “free” for the taking. The Ralbag [1] dispels this notion: 

Our inheritance of the Land [of Israel] requires two conditions: one is the merit of the Jews, and the second is the wickedness of those nations, that their iniquity must be “full,” as we explained regarding the statement: “for the iniquity [2] of the Amorite is not full” (Bereishis 15:16).

The Ralbag is referring to the condition explicitly stated by Hashem in the Bris Bein ha’Besarim (The Covenant Between the Parts) when He promised to Avraham that his descendants would return to inherit the Land of Israel four generations after their sojourn in Egypt: 

And He said to Avram: “Know with certainty that your offspring shall be strangers in a land not their own, and they will serve them, and they will oppress them for four hundred years. But also the nation that they will serve I shall judge, and afterwards they will leave with great wealth. As for you: you shall come to your ancestors in peace; you shall be buried in a good old age. And the fourth generation shall return here, for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full until then.”

The Chazkuni [3] understands this last clause to be an answer to a question that Avraham might have asked: “Why will my offspring need to wait for four generations to inherit the Land? Why can’t they inherit the Land immediately?” The answer is “for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full until then.” Rashi [4] explains the meaning of this stipulation: 

for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full [enough] to cast them out of their land until that time, because Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu does not punish a nation until its measure is full, as it is said, “according to her measure He contends with her” (Yeshayahu 27:8).

The Radak [5] elaborates: 

for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full until then – [this means that] the time for the punishment for the iniquity of the Amorite will not yet have arrived, for Hashem (blessed is He) prolongs His anger for the wicked, and there is a set time for everyone: there are some whom He punishes immediately, and others for whom He delays [punishment] for a long time – all in accordance with His wisdom. [In this pasuk] He tells [Avram]: “for the time of the Amorite’s [6] punishment has not yet been completed.”

Indeed, the Ramban [7] goes so far as to posit that this was one of Avraham’s concerns which prompted the Bris bein ha’Besarim in the first place. After initially being told by Hashem: “I am Hashem Who brought you out of Ur-Kasdim to give you this land to inherit it” (Bereishis 15:7), Avram asks: “My Lord, Hashem-Elokim, whereby shall I know that I am to inherit it?” (ibid. 15:8). It is impossible to say that Avram’s question stemmed from a lack of trust in Hashem, since we were told two pesukim earlier: “And he trust in Hashem, and He reckoned it to him as righteousness” (ibid. 15:6). What, then, was the basis of Avram’s question? Ramban answers: 

But Avraham wanted to know with a true knowledge that he would inherit it, and that his sin or the sin of his offspring wouldn’t cause [the promise to not be fulfilled], or perhaps the Canaanites would do teshuvah and [that which was written] would be fulfilled in them: “One moment I may speak concerning a nation or a kingdom, to destroy, demolish, or annihilate [it], but if that nation repents of its evil deed of which I had spoken, then I relent of the harm that I had planned to carry out against it” (Yirmiyahu 18:7).

In other words, Avram asked Hashem, “whereby shall I know that I am to inherit it?” because he was worried about three things: (1) his own sins would cause him to lose the merit by which Hashem’s promise would be fulfilled, (2) the sins of his offspring would cause them to lose the merit by which they would inherit the land, or (3) the Seven Canaanite nations currently occupying the land would do teshuvah, thereby making it impossible for Hashem to give the land to Avraham’s descendants, since it would be unjust to kick a righteous nation out of their land, even in order to give it to someone as deserving as Avraham! Ultimately, Hashem made the Bris Bein ha’Besarim to allay Avraham’s fears [8], but we see from the Ramban’s interpretation of Avraham’s concerns how powerful this principle of Divine justice is! 

The Ralbag invokes this Divine justice to explain why Bnei Yisrael were warned not to wage war with the children of Eisav, Moav, and Amon: 

For this reason you will find that the Torah warned [Bnei Yisrael] not to provoke war with the Children of Eisav, nor with the Children of Ammon and Moav, since He didn’t give them their land as an inheritance, because even though the members of these nations were wicked, their iniquity was not yet “full” [such that they deserved to be driven out of their land and deprived of their inheritance]. However, the iniquity of the Amorite was full, and it is for this reason that they dispossessed Sichon and Og [from their land].

In other words, although the pesukim made it seem that Hashem absolutely forbade Bnei Yisrael to take the lands of Eisav, Moav, and Ammon, the Ralbag learns that this was only because “their iniquity was not yet full.” The implication is that if their iniquity had been full, they would have suffered the same fate as the Amorites, despite having been given their land as an inheritance. 

All of this may seem like ancient history, but I believe that the principle of Divine justice reflected in these pesukim has a significant bearing on our present situation, if not in how we relate to the current non-Jewish occupants of the Land of Israel, than at least in how we view our God-given right to dispossess them. 

As I mentioned at the outset of this post, it is easy to feel that we, as the descendants of the Avos, have an absolute right to take our Land back from those who dwell there. But as we have seen, even after Hashem promised the Land to Avraham, He was still not willing to drive out Amorites and the other Canaanite nations immediately. Only when “their iniquity was full” would they deserve to be kicked out. Only at that point would we be right to claim what He gave us. To displace these nations before their iniquity is full would be unjust. 

Tishah b’Av is next week. We are deep within the period of time when we, as Jews, reflect on the fact that we were exiled from our Land by our enemies. Even today, when the State of Israel exists, we bemoan the fact that we are still in exile, insofar as our Land is occupied by the nations of the world, and Israel is not under Jewish sovereignty. It is easy for us to look at the current occupants of our home and feel that we’re just entitled to kick them out and reclaim what is ours, without considering our own merit or the injustice of driving out another nation. 

When we think about the complicated situation in Israel today, let us remember the two criteria required to take back our land: we must become righteous enough to deserve it, and those we dispossess from their homes must be wicked enough to deserve their fate. 

End Notes

[1] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Devarim, Chapter 2: Toeles #13 

[2] In his actual commentary on Bereishis 15:16 the Ralbag translates “avon” as “punishment” rather than “iniquity,” but I’ve translated it as “iniquity” here to keep the terms consistent with the other meforshim I’ll be citing. 

[3] Rabbeinu Chezkia ben Manoach (Chazkuni), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 

[4] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 

[5] Rabbeinu David Kimchi (Radak), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 

[6] Many of the meforshim, including the Radak, explain that what is said of the Amorite applies to the other six Canaanite Nations as well, and that the Amorite is singled out because they were the most powerful. 

[7] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 

[8] How, exactly, the Bris Bein ha’Besarim accomplished this is the subject of another article yet to be written.

Pinchas / 17th of Tammuz: The Korban Tamid and its Cessation

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Artwork: Through the Breach, by Randy Vargas

Pinchas / 17th of Tammuz: The Korban Tamid and its Cessation 

Introduction 

Yesterday was the 17th of Tammuz. This Shabbos we read Parashas Pinchas. There is one topic which is common to both: the korban tamid (continual daily offering). The Rambam [1] writes: 

On the 17th of Tammuz five things happened: (1) the tablets were broken, (2) the korban tamid ceased from the First Temple, (3) [the walled city of] Yerushalayim (Jerusalem) was breached in the destruction of the Second [Temple], (4) the wicked Apostomos burned a Torah scroll, and (5) he set up an idol in the Sanctuary. 

Of these five, the one which tends to resonate the least is the cessation of the korban tamid. The breaking of the tablets was a dramatic event, signaling the violation of our covenant with Hashem through the worship of the Golden Calf - one of our worst national transgressions of all time. The breach of Yerushalayim is easy to relate to as as tragedy, since it was the step which directly led to the destruction of the Beis ha’Mikdsah (Holy Temple). The evil deeds of Apostomos may not register on the same scale of national catastrophe as the preceding two events, but the act of burning a sefer Torah and setting up an idol in Mikdash evoke visceral reactions. Compared to these four tragic events, the cessation of the korban tamid seems relatively tame. What, exactly, was so bad about this event? 

The appearance of the korban tamid in Parashas Pinchas is rather jolting. Hashem shows Moshe the Land of Israel and informs him of his own impending death. Moshe pleads with Hashem to choose a successor to lead the people. Hashem instructs him to appoint Yehoshua. The passing of the mantle of leadership takes place in a dramatic public assembly featuring a pageantry rich in the symbolism of transition. And then, without warning, Hashem tells Moshe to command the Children of Israel in the mitzvah of the korban tamid. It is quite the non sequitur. 

The aim of this article is to address both issues: to understand what it is about the cessation of the korban tamid which warrants a national mourning on par with the other four tragedies, and to explain the Torah’s abrupt transition from the narrative of Yehoshua’s succession to the laws of the korban tamid. Lastly, we will take a first step in defining a theme which unites all five of the occurrences we commemorate on the 17th of Tammuz and suggest on that basis a possible avenue for national teshuvah we can engage in this year.

The Maimonidean Function of the Korban Tamid 

The Rambam [2] famously (or infamously) held that the purpose of all korbanos (sacrifices) is to counteract the yetzer ha’ra (evil inclination) for avodah zarah (idolatry). His theory is quite polarizing, to say the least. Some meforshim (commentators) vehemently oppose his view, such as the Ramban [3], who denounces the Rambam’s explanation as “foolish words" which "make the altar of Hashem disgusting.” Others embrace the Rambam’s view in a manner which “is even more Maimonidean than Maimonides,” [4] such as Ibn Kaspi [5], who boldly asserts that “Moshe Rabbeinu was forced and compelled against his will to write [the detailed laws of korbanos in Sefer Vayikra] … but the customs of the non-Jews at that time brought them to this.” 

While the Rambam’s view of korbanos as a whole is a subject of controversy, there is a distinctly Maimonidean dimension to the korban tamid which is undeniable. The Torah’s exposition of the laws of the korban tamid begins as follows: “Command the Children of Israel and say to them: My offering, My food for My fires, My satisfying aroma, you shall safeguard it to offer to Me in its appointed time” (Bamidbar 28:2). From here the Sages derive a universal halacha in korbanos known as muktzeh (lit. “set aside”). If an animal is used in a ceremony of avodah zarah, that animal becomes prohibited to be offered as a korban to Hashem. The Gemara (Temurah 29a) spells out how this halacha is derived from the pasuk: 

“You shall safeguard it to offer to Me in its appointed time” [implies] “to Me” but not to another master. And who is this other [master] to whom one might offer? This is avodah zarah.” 

This Gemara explicitly ties the korban tamid to the rejection of avodah zarah. Some argue that the derivation of the universal law of muktzeh from the korban tamid supports the Rambam’s contention that all korbanos are designed to counteract avodah zarah. This point is debatable, but everyone would agree that the tamid itself embodies this theme – even the Ramban. 

The thematic connection to the rejection of avodah zarah is reinforced by a cryptic Sifri (142): 

“Hashem spoke to Moshe, saying: Command the Children of Israel … My offering, My food …” Why was this said? Because it said: “[May Hashem … appoint a man over the assembly] who shall go out before them and come in before them” (Bamidbar 27:16-17). To what may this be compared? To a king whose wife, before she passed away, charged him regarding her children, saying: “Please take care of my children,” to which the king replied, “Before you charge me regarding my children, charge my children regarding me, so that they do not rebel against me, and so that they do not treat me disgracefully.” So too, Hashem told [Moshe]: “Before you charge Me regarding My children, charge them regarding Me, so that they not treat me disgracefully by exchanging My Glory for foreign gods.” Thus it is said: “For I shall bring them to the Land [… and they shall turn to the foreign gods of the land and serve them etc.”] (Devarim 31:20). Before you charge Me regarding My children, charge them regarding Me. Thus, it is stated: “Command the Children of Israel [in the mitzvah of the korban tamid].” 

What is clear from this Sifri is that the Sages characterized the korban tamid as a safeguard against the pitfall of avodah zarah that would threaten the nation upon entry into the Land of Israel under the leadership of Yehoshua. What is quite unclear is: How? How is the korban tamid a safeguard against avodah zarah? And what does this have to do with Yehoshua?

The answer to this question, and our question about the non sequitur in Parashas Pinchas, is given by the Torah Temimah [6], citing the explanation of the Sifri given by the Malbim [7]: 

The purpose [8] of the tamid is to counteract sun-worship. The idolaters would bow down and worship [the sun] twice each day, upon its rising and its setting. Its morning service would [take place] facing the east, and its afternoon service would [take place facing] the west. [Therefore,] Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu commanded us to offer before Him two daily sacrifices: the slaughtering of the morning [tamid] at the northwest corner [of the altar] and the [slaughtering of] the afternoon [tamid] at the northeast corner, in direct opposition to sun-worship. 

The Sages said that if Moshe had entered the Land [of Israel,] he would have nullified the yetzer for avodah zarah, and the service of the tamid would have been unnecessary. Since he requested, “May Hashem appoint a man over the assembly,” and Yehoshua was appointed to wage wars, and he lacked the power to nullify the yetzer for avodah zarah, therefore Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu instructed Moshe to charge His children to not exchange His Glory for foreign gods and to not worship the sun, as the gentile nations did. And it is for this purpose that the section of the tamid was commanded, namely, as a polemic against avodah zarah. 

According to Sifri, as interpreted by the Torah Temimah and the Malbim, identity of the korban tamid is so essentially tied to the repudiation of avodah zarah that its very structure is designed to be the antithesis of sun-worship, which was popular among the Canaanite nations. When the sun rises in the east, and the sun-worshippers bow eastward, we turn our backs on the sun and offer the morning tamid to Hashem, facing west. When the sun begins to set in the west and the sun-worshippers turn with it, we demonstrate our rejection of their cult and their god by offering the afternoon tamid in the east. 

The placement of this topic in Parashas Pinchas is explained based on the notion that avodah zarah would have been totally eradicated under Moshe Rabbeinu’s leadership, thereby rendering the korban tamid unnecessary. But since Moshe would not enter the Land, and Yehoshua would not be capable of eliminating the drive towards avodah zarah on his own, he would need to wage a continual war against avodah zarah – a war whose constancy was represented by the korban tamid, which also functioned as a weapon in the battle. 

The Tragedy of the Cessation of the Tamid 

In light of this explanation, we are now in a position to understand the tragedy of the cessation of the korban tamid. It is well-known that one of the primary national sins which resulted in the destruction of the first Beis ha’Mikdash was avodah zarah. The first crack in the edifice of the United Kingdom of Israel arose from the introduction of avodah zarah into the Land, chiefly through the idolatrous marriages and alliances of Shlomo ha’Melech. The destruction and exile of the Northern Kingdom of Israel came about from the avodah zarah introduced by the king Yeravam ben Navat via his Golden Calves. The decree of destruction and exile of the Southern Kingdom of Yehudah was sealed by the evil king Menashe, who spread avodah zarah so far and wide that he nearly drove Judaism to utter extinction. All of the prophets who prophesied about the destruction of the Beis ha’Mikdash, from Yeshayahu to Yirmiyahu, routinely rebuked the Jewish people for their attachment to avodah zarah. 

When viewed merely as a “ritual sacrifice,” the korban tamid is the most mundane of them all. But when viewed through the lens of the foregoing analysis, the korban tamid is emblematic of the daily national battle against the yetzer ha’ra for avoadah zarah. The specific form of avodah zarah it is designed to counteract underscores the enormity of this battle. Every morning the sun rises and sets, illuminating the earth and sustaining its life, and humanity faces the question: Will you regard the sun as an independent source of power worthy of veneration and worship, or will you recognize it as an expression of the laws of nature authored by the One Creator of the Heavens and the Earth, and submit yourself to His will by serving Him, as does the sun itself? 

Thus, the cessation of the korban tamid on the 17th of Tammuz represents the collapse of the final bulwark against avodah zarah – the dam that held back the powerful forces of avodah zarah that had been erected by Moshe at the very inception of the Israelite conquest, and had continued to lend their stalwart defenses as the nation sunk further and further into idolatry. But finally, on the 17th of Tammuz, the last vestiges of Moshe’s ward [9] gave way. The korban tamid’s metaphysical fortification was breached just like the walls of Yerushalayim, and the long battle was lost, leaving countless casualties in its wake. 

The Beginnings of a Unified Theory of the 17th of Tammuz 

I haven’t fully worked it out yet, but I do believe that this opens up a path to understanding the unity of the five events we commemorate on the 17th of Tammuz. I would like to propose that the theme of the 17th of Tammuz in the infiltration of avodah zarah into our avodas Hashem (service of God). Let us see how this theme is reflected in each of the five events. 

Why did Moshe break the tablets? Because he saw that the nation he had led out of Egypt was still attached to their avodah zarah ways. For this reason, they were not worthy of receiving the Torah, since their involvement in avodah zarah was tantamount to a rejection of the entire Torah. [10] Despite their witnessing of Hashem’s defeat of the idolatrous Egyptian empire, their redemption through miraculous signs and wonders, and their experiencing of the Divine Revelation at Har Sinai, the insidious lure of avodah zarah still managed to retain its hold, and the original covenant they made with Hashem was rendered null and void. 

The relationship of avodah zarah to the cessation of the korban tamid has been sufficiently explained: the korban tamid was designed to function as an inoculation against avodah zarah, and its cessation represented the culmination of avodah zarah’s conquest of the nation. 

The breach of the walls of Yerushalayim has also been explained: Yerushalayim and Bayis Rishon (the First Temple) were destroyed for the sin of avodah zarah. (And if you’ll object, saying: “Doesn’t the 17th of Tammuz commemorate the breach of the walls of Yerushalayim in Bayis Sheini?” then feel free to read this extensive footnote.[11]) 

Lastly, the two wicked deeds of Apostomos epitomize the infiltration of avodah zarah into our avodas Hashem: (a) he burned the Torah, a system whose essence is to uproot avodah zarah, and (b) Apostomos, who was an idolater himself, literally infiltrated the Beis ha’Mikdash, which is the makom avodas Hashem (place of Divine service) par excellence, and set up an actual idol of avodah zarah there. It is impossible to conceive of something that represents the theme of “infiltration of avodah zarah into our avodas Hashem” greater than that! 

What is the significance of this as the unified theme of the 17th of Tammuz? The answer lies in the purpose of all national fast days, as the Rambam writes: 

There are days on which all of Israel fasts because of the catastrophes that occurred on them, in order to awaken the hearts [of the people] and to open the paths of teshuvah (repentance). This will be a remembrance of our corrupt actions and the corrupt actions of our fathers that were like our actions today, which ultimately reached the point that [these corrupt actions] caused these catastrophes for them and for us. Through the remembrance of these things we will return to do good, as it stated, “they will confess their sins and the sins of their fathers” (Vayikra 26:40). 

All of our fast days revolve around the destruction of the first and second Mikdash, and a recognition that we are still in exile awaiting the ultimate redemption and the building of the third and final Mikdash. Why are we still in exile? Why don’t we have our makom avodas Hashem? Because the yetzer ha’ra for avodah zarah is alive and well. It has infiltrated our ranks and has permeated our avodas Hashem just as it did with our ancestors. The threat of the yetzer avodah zarah looms so large, and is such an obstacle to the rehabilitation necessary to be worthy of the final redemption, that the Sages instituted a day of national teshuvah devoted specifically to this theme. The first step in on the road to our national recovery is to recognize the problem which led to our downfall in the first place, and until we do that, then we shall remain in exile. 

One last question: How is the yetzer ha'ra for avodah zarah still alive and well? Is the korban tamid even relevant anymore? Do people still worship the sun? Do people bow down to it and ascribe supernatural power to it? That is the question which must be answered by each of us when we engage in national teshuvah. There is much to say, but the best kind of teshuvah starts with individual introspection. 

I will end by mentioning one possibility. We are currently in the midst of a unprecedented pandemic. As of the writing of this article there have been 12.3 million confirmed cases and over 557,000 deaths worldwide. We have seen the structures of our society crumbled around us, and scores of individuals, communities, and nations have been pushed to the brink. Many of us have faced a greater degree of insecurity than at any other time in our lives, and the future has never been more uncertain.

We may not worship the sun as an entity of independent power - but how many people have we seen over the course of this pandemic relate to other elements of nature in a similar manner? Have we progressed beyond the primitive mentality of helplessly flailing in a storm of terrifying forces and truly acknowledged that nature and all of its elements operate in accordance with the will and wisdom of the Creator? Have we followed the implications of this realization by recognizing that this same Creator gave us His Torah, and commanded us to keep it? Have we truly accepted the fact the universe He created and the Torah He has given us are good, and that we can partake of this good by aligning ourselves with His will? 

These are the questions we must ask in order to engage in national teshuvah. As long as the worship of the sun, the stars, and the heavenly forces is still practiced among the Jewish people - whether in its original primitive form, or in its sublimated modern form - then the catastrophe of the 17th of Tammuz will continue to ripple through time. May Hashem speedily fulfill what Zechariah prophesied: 

"Thus said Hashem, Master of Legions: The fast of the fourth [month, of Tammuz], the fast of the seventh [month, of Tishrei], and the fast of the tenth [month, of Teves] will be to the House of Yehudah for joy and for gladness and for happy festivals. [Only] love truth and peace!" (Zechariah 8:19)

Footnotes

[1] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Mishneh Torah: Sefer Zmanim, Hilchos Taaniyos 5:2 

[2] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Moreh ha’Nevuchim 3:32 

[3] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides) Commentary on Sefer Vayikra 1:9 

[4] Credit for this phrase goes to my high school principal, who used it in reference to the Ralbag. 

[5] Rabbeinu Yosef ibn Kaspi, Commentary on Vayikra 1:1. The Ibn Kaspi goes even further than that, and refrains from writing commentary on all the sections of Vayikra which deal with korbanos! And yes, I realize that I’ve just committed a “Rishonic hit-and-run,” and I intend to follow this up with its own post at some point in the future. 

[6] Rav Baruch ha'Levi Epstein, Torah Temimah: Sefer Bamidbar 28:2, footnote 2 

[7] Rav Meir Leibush ben Yechiel Michel (Malbim), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 28:2; the Torah Temimah’s citation of the Malbim is near verbatim, but I’ve decided to use his instead of the Malbim’s because the language is slightly more concise. 

[8] lit. “the tamid came to counteract sun-worship.” I didn’t like this literal translation because it sounds too much like, “Don’t ride a horse on Shabbos because you might come to break off a branch!” 

[9] Get it? “Ward” means “protection” but it also refers to a minor under the care of an adult – a subtle nod to the analogy in the Sifri about charging a parent to protect their children. I felt compelled to point that out. 

[10] See my (unfinished) analysis of Rashi’s interpretation of the breaking of the tablets: https://kolhaseridim.blogspot.com/2016/07/17th-of-tammuz-breaking-of-tablets.html

[11] It is true that the 17th of Tammuz commemorates the breach of Yerushalayim during Bayis Sheini, not Bayis Rishon. In fact, we know when the when the walls of Bayis Rishon were breached because it’s stated openly in the pesukim: “On the 9th of the month [of Tammuz] the famine was strong in the city and there was no bread for the people of the land. The city was breached, and all the men of war [fled] during the night” (II Melachim 25:4; see also Yirmiyahu 52:6-7). 

Why, then, do we fast on the 17th of Tammuz instead of the 9th? Why not commemorate the breach of the walls in Bayis Rishon? The answer, according to some, is that we used to observe this fast day on the 9th of Tammuz, and it was subsequently changed to the 17th after the destruction of Bayis Sheini. The Lechem Mishneh (on Hilchos Taaniyos 5:2) explains: 

Even though the fast in the pasuk, “the fast of the fourth [month],” refers to the 9th [of Tammuz], since the city was breached on the 9th, nevertheless, we now observe it on the 17th because the destruction of Bayis Sheini was worse, and the walls of the city [then] were breached on the 17th. And if you’ll [object] saying that we observe the 10th of Teves because the King of Bavel besieged Yerushalayim during the destruction of Bayis Rishon, but we should have changed it to the day that the city was besieged during Bayis Sheini, since it was worse – the answer is that our case is different, since everything happened on one month and it’s not a big deal to change [the observance of the fast] from the 9th to the 17th, but in there [in the case of the two sieges] the times are spread apart. 

Thus, it turns out that the fast day we observe on the 17th of Tammuz is essentially about the breach of the walls of Yerushalayim per se – not about the breach of the walls during Bayis Sheini specifically, the exclusion of Bayis Rishon. Hence, my comment in the body of the article that the theme of the day is the infiltration of avodah zarah into our avodas Hashem, which is reflected in the destruction of Bayis Rishon on account of avodah zarah. 

[12] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Mishneh Torah: Sefer Zmanim, Hilchos Taaniyos 5:1 

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