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SALT FOR PARASHAT NASO by Rav David Silverberg
MOTZAEI
Among the topics discussed in Parashat Naso is the nazir, a man or
woman who accepts the nazirite code requiring abstention from wine and
haircutting, and avoiding contact with human corpses. The Torah (6:14-15) instructs that upon
completing the term of nezirut, the individual must bring a special
sacrifice consisting of two sheep – one as an ola (burnt offering) and another as a chatat (sin offering) – and a ram as a shelamim (offering of which he may partake). Additionally, the nazir must bring a mincha (grain) offering
and wine for the nesakhim (libations poured over the
altar).
The Meshekh Chokhma notes that in describing the procedure for
these offerings, the Torah appears to divide it into two different stages. It tells that the kohen should
offer the sin offering, the burnt offering and the shelamim, and then writes, “And the
kohen shall perform his meal offering and its libations”
(6:16). The new introduction – “And
the kohen shall perform…” – suggests a new stage in the sacrificial
process. Apparently, the animal
sacrifices mark one stage, and the mincha and nesakhim constitute an
independent stage.
The Meshekh Chokhma
offers a surprisingly simple explanation for why this would be the case. The Gemara in Masekhet Menachot (44b)
establishes that the mincha and nesakhim that accompany an
animal sacrifice need not be brought on the same day as the animal
sacrifice. It is possible to bring
the accompanying meal offering and libations at some later point, and they do
not have to be offered on the same day as the primary sacrifice. Conceivably, then, although the
nazir must bring the aforementioned animal sacrifices on the day
he completes his stated term of nezirut, the accompanying
mincha and nesekh might not be brought until a different
day. The Torah therefore adds a new
introduction for the mincha and nesakhim – “And the kohen shall perform…” Since they might be offered on a
different day than the animal sacrifices, with a different kohen officiating in the Mikdash,
the Torah presented the mincha and nesakhim as marking a new stage
in the nazir’s sacrificial process. SUNDAY
As mentioned yesterday, the Torah in Parashat Naso devotes a section to
the laws of a nazir – a man or woman who vows to abide by the nazirite
code, which requires abstaining from wine, refraining from haircutting, and
avoiding contact with human corpses.
One might inquire as to the common thread that is shared by these three
restrictions. The term “nazir” is generally interpreted to mean
“abstention” or “separation,” and a nazir is thus somebody who has chosen to
“abstain.” Interestingly, however,
his “abstention” relates only to wine, haircutting and tum’at meit (the ritual impurity caused by contact with
a human corpse). The Torah imposes
no special restrictions upon a nazir with regard to common areas of physical
activity such as food, drinks (other than wine), marital relations, fine
clothing, and so on. The
“abstention” of nezirut differs starkly from the observance of Yom
Kippur, for example, when we are called upon to eliminate physical comforts and
pleasures. Why, then, does the
Torah refer to the nazir as “one who abstains,” if he must only
abstain from three very specific – and seemingly unrelated –
activities?
We might suggest that the three restrictions imposed upon the
nazir represent
three areas of life that pose spiritual danger to a person: festivity, tragedy,
and social pressure. Excessive
festivity can lead a person to reckless, uncalculated behavior, and to focus his
attention on enjoyment and indulgence rather than on personal
responsibility. On the opposite
side of the spectrum, the experience of tragedy and loss of life could cause one
to question divine justice, and to despair from pursuing a rich, meaningful
life. Finally, the quest for social
acceptance and the admiration of one’s peers often blinds a person’s judgment,
as he determines his courses of action based on what pleases other people rather
than his objective reasoning and deeply held values.
Perhaps, then, nezirut means abstaining from life’s religious
challenges by avoiding these three areas.
The prohibition against drinking wine requires the nazir to avoid
festive celebrations, and he must likewise avoid funerals due to the prohibition
of tum’at meit. Finally, he is barred from grooming
himself and tending to his appearance, and must appear unkempt and
disheveled. By avoiding situations
of festivity and tragedy and ignoring socially acceptable standards of
appearance, the nazir temporarily protects himself from these
three areas of religious challenge.
Among the sacrifices required of a nazir upon completing his term of nezirut is a female sheep brought as a sin offering
(6:14), and several different approaches have been taken to explain why the
nazir would require atonement. The Meshekh Chokhma suggests that
although a nazir acted nobly by undertaking these strict
measures which he deemed temporarily necessary, he must atone for the
mitzvot that he forfeited as a result. He was unable, for example, to attend
funerals, even upon the passing of relatives, and could not recite kiddush or havdala over a cup of wine. We might also add the fact that his
disheveled appearance likely erected certain social barriers which prevented his
involvement in important communal affairs and meaningful social functions. Therefore, even if his undertaking was
justifiable in light of his sensing the need for spiritual fortification, it
came at the expense of several important mitzvot, a price for
which he must atone through a sin offering.
The ambivalence expressed by Chazal toward the nazir thus reflects the tension that exists
between protecting oneself from the complexities of the world and the value in
confronting them. The period of
nezirut creates a temporary safe haven of sorts,
but also denies the nazir a number of valuable opportunities. The fact that the Torah sanctioned the
institution of nezirut, but at the same time required a sin
offering, likely signifies the ambivalence with which we should approach this
tension between isolation and engagement.
Ideally, the Torah bids us to confront the world, even with its lurking
dangers, in an effort to build and improve it. On some occasions, however, it may
become necessary to withdraw in the interest of self-protection. But even when such measures are
warranted, one must remain aware of the sacrifices entailed, and the need to
“atone” for the valuable opportunities forfeited by his decision to
withdraw. MONDAY
The beginning of Parashat Naso continues the discussion which the Torah
began in the previous parasha
concerning the designation of the Levite tribe. The Leviyim were
assigned the task of dissembling the Mishkan when the nation would disembark,
transporting the Mishkan during travel, and rebuilding it at the
next encampment. The different
parts of the Mishkan were divided among the three Levite families
of Gershon, Kehat and Merari, and each family was responsible for transporting
their assigned parts every time the nation traveled.
The question arises as to whether any connection might exist between this
role, which the Leviyim filled during the nation’s sojourn through
the wilderness, and their eternal role as the spiritual leaders and guides. Moshe famously says about the tribe of
Levi before his death, “They shall teach Your statutes to Yaakov, and Your Torah
to
Rav Yehuda Amital shelit”a noted that, indeed, the role of Torah
leaders is to “transport” the Torah, to ensure its successful transplantation
from one generation to another. He
explained: Throughout history, Am Yisrael
has passed through different places, and the world has progressed and developed
beyond measure. The Torah, in
contrast, has never changed. There
is always a fear that the Torah will become obsolete, irrelevant to later
generations. The Rishonim
(Rasag, Rambam and others) addressed this problem and explained that in every
generation the Torah must be interpreted in terms of that generation, such that
its message for each era will be revealed.
Chiddushei Ha-Rim expounds further on this, explaining that
the function of the tzadik in each generation is to find the
significance of the Torah for that generation, just as the Leviyim used
to examine the characteristics of each place and decide accordingly where to
erect the Mishkan. (http://vbm-torah.org/archive/sichot/bamidbar/35-60naso.htm)
Torah leaders bear the responsibility of erecting the “Mishkan” anew in
their generation and setting, ensuring that the structure they build will be the
precise same “Mishkan” as the
one that stood in the previous location.
The “terrain,” however, is often drastically different, requiring new,
innovative techniques and strategies.
The people chosen for the task must be unwaveringly committed to
maintaining the Mishkan’s proper structure, down to the very
last detail, while at the same time being capable and willing to devise and
implement the strategies necessary to ensure the Mishkan’s compatibility with the new
terrain. TUESDAY
Parashat Naso begins with the census taken of the Leviyim, and the
description of the specific roles assigned to the different Levite families in
the wilderness. This section began
already toward the end of Parashat Bamidbar, where the Torah describes the role
of the Kehat family, who were assigned to prepare and transport the sacred
articles of the Mishkan during
travel. Parashat Naso discusses the
family of Gershon, who would transport the cloth hangings and coverings that
were on and around the Mishkan, and the
Merari family, who carried the wooden planks and pillars.
The Keli Yakar raises
the question of why the Torah discusses the family of Kehat before the family of
Gershon. Whenever the Torah lists
the sons of Levi, it arranges them in the sequence of Gershon, Kehat and Merari,
clearly indicating that Gershon was the oldest of the three sons. Yet, in describing the roles assigned to
the different families, the Torah speaks of the second son, Kehat, before the
older son, Gershon. The obvious
answer, as the Keli Yakar cites
from the Midrash, is that the Kehatite earned precedence by virtue of the fact
that they carried the sacred articles, most notably the aron. This distinction warranted that they
receive as well the honor of being discussed first in the Torah, before the
older family of Gershon.
However, the Keli Yakar notes,
this itself requires explanation.
Why did God choose the Kehatites for the role of transporting the sacred
articles? Why was this honor not
afforded to the older brother, Gershon?
The Keli Yakar suggests a number of different
answers. First, he explains that
the Torah wanted to emphasize that the “crown of Torah” is accessible to all,
irrespective of age or stature. Had
the sacred articles been entrusted to the family of Gershon, the eldest son of
Levi, people may have understood this to mean that Torah knowledge and
scholarship is reserved for the older brother, for people born into
nobility. God therefore
specifically assigned this task to the family of the younger brother, Kehat, to
demonstrate that all people are equally entitled to “carry” the Torah upon their
backs, regardless of the social stature to which they were
born.
The Keli Yakar then adds that this privilege may have been denied
to Gershon in order to prevent this family from growing arrogant and feeling a
sense of natural entitlement as the descendants of Levi’s firstborn. Additionally, the Kehat family perhaps
earned this distinction by their having produced Moshe and Aharon, the nation’s
spiritual leaders.
The work Sha’arei Aharon cites a different theory in the name of
the Tzeror Ha-mor, who associates the name “Kehat” with a verse in
Parashat Vayechi (Bereishit 49:10), “ve-lo yikehat amim.” As Rashi there explains, the word
“yikehat” means “gather,” referring to the assembly of large numbers of
people around an influential leader.
Possibly, the Tzeror Ha-mor
suggests, Kehat was given this name because he assembled large gatherings for
the purpose of Torah study. Chazal teach that the Levites were the nation’s
scholars and scribes during the period of Egyptian bondage. The family Kehat may have had the
specific role of serving as the public lecturers, the ones who would address
large crowds to teach Torah. This
special merit of Talmud Torah
de-rabim, which exceeds the merit
of Torah learning itself, rendered the descendants of Kehat worthy of the unique
privilege of transporting the aron and other sacred
articles. WEDNESDAY
Many writers have noted the anomaly latent within the Torah’s description
of the festival of Shavuot.
Although we celebrate this occasion as primarily Zeman Matan
Torateinu, the anniversary of our receiving the Torah, the Torah itself
makes no mention of this aspect of Shavuot. Instead, the Torah focuses exclusively
on the agricultural theme of Shavuot, as the celebration of the wheat
harvest. Sefer Shemot (23:16,
34:22) describes Shavuot as the harvest festival, and in Sefer Vayikra (23:9-22)
speaks of this day as the culmination of the fifty-day period that began with
the omer offering on the second day of Pesach. Shavuot thus appears in the Torah as
strictly an agricultural festival, without any historical or commemorative
component. It seems odd, at first
glance, that the role of Shavuot as celebrating the seminal event of Matan
Torah would earn no mention in the Torah.
Rav Yaakov Ariel, in his Mei-aholei Torah, explains how this
anomaly may convey an important message regarding the nature of Torah and Torah
observance: The festival of Shavuot is the
festival of the harvest of the first wheat in the The festival of Matan Torah is
described in the Torah as the festival of the harvest in order to emphasize the
relevance and applicability of Torah as a practical guide for real-life
experiences. Torah life is most
vividly expressed specifically in the harvest, when engaging in the pursuit of
one’s livelihood, struggling with nature to harness its forces for the benefit
of oneself and mankind. It is here
where the Torah calls upon a person to recognize his responsibilities to the
Almighty, and where it imposes its obligations and restrictions. Rav Ariel adds that for this reason the
Torah concludes the section dealing with Shavuot (in Vayikra 23:22) with a
reiteration of the farmer’s charity obligations: “And when you reap the harvest
of your land, do not completely eliminate the corner of your field, and do not
collect the gleanings of your harvest; you shall leave them for the poor and the
foreigner.” In the context of
Zeman Matan Torateinu, the Torah emphasizes that Torah observance is
expressed most manifestly in the harvest, when the farmer denies himself a
percentage of his hard-earned produce and leaves it for the poor as the Torah
demands.
Thus, the Torah deliberately omitted any reference to the historical
background of Shavuot to focus our attention on the day-to-day implementation of
the Torah’s laws and ideals, rather than confining them to the realm of the
abstract. We received the Torah for
the purpose of establishing ourselves as a nation in our ancestral homeland that
strictly observes its laws and exemplifies its values. The Torah therefore describes Shavuot in
strictly agricultural terms, thereby emphasizing the importance of implementing
Torah in daily life, rather than perceiving it as only an abstract spiritual
entity. THURSDAY
A number of explanations have been given for why Megilat Rut is
customarily read on Shavuot, some of which draw upon the parallel between Rut’s
acceptance of Judaism with Benei
Yisrael’s collective acceptance of
the Torah. On Shavuot we
commemorate – and reenact – the formal acceptance of the Torah’s commands, which
closely resembles the commitment made by a convert entering the ranks of
Am Yisrael. More
specifically, some have suggested that the particular circumstances surrounding
Rut’s conversion to Judaism serve as an instructive model for our acceptance of
the Torah. Chazal
identified Rut as a Moavite princess, who left the luxurious life of royalty to
live in abject poverty among Benei Yisrael. Rather than living in a royal palace in
her native land, she chooses instead to live with her impoverished mother-in-law
in a foreign country and collect charitable gleanings from a nearby field. Rut’s sacrifice represents – in the
extreme – the willingness to forego on comfort and luxury for the sake of Torah
and mitzvot. While the Torah does not encourage
poverty as an ideal, it most certainly imposes upon us obligations and
restrictions that require sacrifices of one sort or another, and of one extent
or another. On Shavuot, when we
reaffirm our unwavering commitment to Torah, we are reminded of the unfathomable
sacrifices Rut made for the sake of embracing Judaism, which exemplify the
notion of sacrificing comfort and convenience for the sake of serving one’s
Creator. We may perhaps point as well to a more
specific element of Rut’s self-sacrifice that provides a meaningful lesson
regarding sacrifices made for Torah.
The Gemara in Masekhet Shabbat (113b) writes that as Rut collected
gleanings of wheat in Boaz’s field, she ensured to collect only single stalks or
pairs of stalks that fell from the harvesters. The Torah requires landowners to leave
their gleanings for the poor, but this applies only to cases where individual
stalks or pairs of stalks fall during the harvest. If three stalks fall together, they
belong to the landowner, and are not reserved for the poor. This is the position taken by Beit
Hillel, as recorded in the Mishna in Masekhet Pei’a (6:5), and the position
accepted as authoritative halakha.
The Gemara comments that Rut was aware of and meticulously observed this
law, and her careful compliance with the detailed guidelines of this mitzva (among other things) caught the attention
of Boaz, who ultimately married her. The
Maharsha raises the question of why Rut’s conduct in this regard would leave an
impression on Boaz. After all, if
Rut had collected stalks to which she was not entitled, she would have been
guilty of theft. Why was it so
admirable that she exercised care to collect only the gleanings that Halakha grants
to the poor? Would we have expected
anything less? The
Maharsha answers that Rut could have been expected to view her situation as
exceptional. The aforementioned
Mishna in Masekhet Pei’a cites the dissenting view of Beit Shammai, who held
that the poor may collect even a group of three stalks that fell together. The reason, as explained in the Talmud
Yerushalmi, is that the Torah (Devarim 24:20) assigns gleanings “to the
foreigner, to the orphan and to the widow.” The three terms mentioned in this verse,
according to Beit Shammai, allude to the fact that even groups of three stalks
are granted to the poor. The
Maharsha comments that although Beit Hillel disagrees with this position, and
restricts the obligation of gleanings to single stalks or pairs of stalks, one
may have thought that Beit Hillel would concede to Beit Shammai regarding a
person suffering from a triple condition of poverty. Rut was not only poor; she was also a
widow and a foreigner. She could
have rationalized taking even groups of three stalks on the grounds that she
endured triple hardship. But
instead, she accepted her position and did not demand special treatment on
account of her unique condition.
Rut understood that making sacrifices for Torah does not entitle a person
to make exceptional demands on others.
Certainly, the others, for their part, should work to alleviate the
hardships that result from these sacrifices – as indeed Boaz did. But Rut never demanded to be treated
differently than other people in need.
She accepted only that to which she was halakhically entitled, and then
demanded no more, despite the unique circumstances she
endured. Rut’s
conduct demonstrates that one should not expect special entitlements because of
the admirable sacrifices he willingly makes for Torah. Just as Rut was happily prepared to
endure the consequences of her decision, recognizing that Torah provided her
with a fortune far greater than the material success she forfeited, similarly,
we must all rejoice in the sacrifices we make for Torah and view our religious
commitment as the greatest privilege of all. FRIDAY
The Gemara in Masekhet Yevamot (48b) observes the phenomenon of geirim
(converts) who experience hardship upon joining Am Yisrael. Seemingly, the Gemara wonders, gentiles
who voluntarily commit themselves to Torah observance and join the Jewish people
should be rewarded, rather than punished, yet the very opposite seems to be the
case. The Gemara proposes different
possible explanations for this pattern, including the fact that “they delayed
coming under the wings of the Divine Presence.” Meaning, God holds geirim
accountable for the years prior to their conversion, when they did not join
Am Yisrael. The Gemara cites a possible source to
this explanation from Boaz’s blessing to Rut, a Moavite convert, upon her
arrival in his fields in Beit Lechem: “May the Lord repay you for your act, and
may your recompense be complete from the Lord, God of Israel, under whose wings
you have come to find refuge” (Rut 2:12).
As Rashi and Tosefot explain, the Gemara interpreted the final clause of
Boaz’s blessing – “under whose wings you have come to find refuge” – as
indicating Rut’s immediate conversion, which she did not delay. Rut was rewarded for her alacrity, but
other converts, who delay this process, are held accountable for their delay in
joining Am Yisrael.
This passage raises a number of questions. First and foremost, why should a gentile
be held accountable for the period before conversion? The Torah does not believe that all
people must be Jewish, and, in fact, the Jewish court must initially discourage
a prospective convert who expresses interest in this process. Why would a delayed conversion warrant
punishment? Secondly, why did this
not apply to Rut? Even if, as the
Gemara assumes, she did not unnecessarily delay her conversion, why is she not
held accountable for the years she spent as a Moavite, before
converting?
Rav Yaakov Emden, in his notes to Masekhet Yevamot, explains that the
Gemara refers to delaying conversion after one has firmly resolved to embrace
Torah and join Am Yisrael. Chazal
certainly did not consider converts punishable for the years they lived as
gentiles without taking interest in Judaism. Converts are held accountable, however,
if they delay the process unnecessarily once the decision to convert is
reached. Rav Yaakov Emden draws a
parallel between this decision and a resolution to donate to charity or offer a
voluntary sacrifice. Just as the
Torah strictly warns against delaying the fulfillment one’s pledges (“lo te’acher le-shalemo” –
Devarim 23:22), similarly, the Gemara urges prospective converts to undergo the
process promptly without delay. Rut
was applauded for acting promptly upon her convictions, and joining Am Yisrael as soon
as she made this commitment.
Rav Avraham Pam (in Rav Shalom Smith’s Rav Pam on the
Festivals) extends
this rule to all areas of religious life, emphasizing the need to act upon
convictions and inspiration without unnecessary delay. Of course, important decisions must be
thought through with patience and care, and not with reckless haste. But once the decision is reached to
commit to a certain undertaking, one should fulfill his responsibility
immediately, without delay, and not allow his enthusiasm and emotional energy to
wane. David Silverberg |