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Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT NASO

By Rav David Silverberg

            Parashat Naso contains the section dealing with the laws of the nazir, a status that one voluntarily takes upon himself, which forbids him from drinking wine, cutting his hair and coming in contact with tum'at meit (ritual impurity that results from contact with a corpse).  Various different approaches have been taken in identifying the precise goal of the status of nezirut, what it is that the nazir seeks to achieve in accepting these measures.  Most famously, the Gemara in Masekhet Sota (2a) comments that this section appears in the Torah immediately following the section dealing with the sota (woman suspected of infidelity) because a person who sees what happens to a sota will likely be inspired to accept nezirut.  On the basis of this Gemara, it is commonly understood that nezirut serves as a means of distancing oneself from sin, as a safeguard to help protect oneself against his sinful drives.

            But while this easily explains the prohibition against drinking wine, which is frequently associated with frivolity and licentiousness, it does not, at first glance, explain the significance behind the prohibition against haircutting.  How does this provision help serve the goal of nezirut – to help a person avoid sinful conduct?

            The Peirush Ha-Tur explains as follows: "Growing one's hair, too, is the opposite of the young men who twirl the hair of their head to make themselves attractive, and growing [one's hair] engenders anxiety in a person's heart; therefore, he is holy."  Unkempt hair, the Tur claims, makes a person feel uneasy and insecure.  In this way, the prohibition against haircutting helps the nazir achieve his goal of resisting his sinful tendencies.  It ensures that he can never feel too comfortable with himself, that he never feels entirely at ease.  His overgrown hair – if only for social reasons – engenders within him a sense of anxiety that safeguards against inappropriate behavior.

            Much has been written about Chazal's ambivalence towards nezirut.  There are many indications that they did not see these self-imposed measures as an ideal condition, but rather as a commendable measure taken in response to a person's recognition of his spiritual frailty.  Extending this to the notion of "anxiety" mentioned by the Tur, we would conclude that one is not expected to live in a perpetual state of intense spiritual angst.  Judaism does not demand that a person experience a constant and overbearing sense of unease with regard to his religious achievement.  By the same token, however, what is demanded in extreme form by the nazir is required of the rest of the nation in moderation.  As the Rambam writes in describing the mitzva of yir'at Hashem (Sefer Ha-mitzvot, mitzvat asei 4), a person must live his life with a general awareness of divine judgment and a certain degree of fear.  This may also be the Gemara's intent when it forbids "filling one's mouth with laughter in this world" (Berakhot 31a).  A person may never allow himself to feel entirely comfortable and at ease, without any sense of concern with regard to his religious achievement.  While the intense feelings of anxiety engendered by nezirut is by no means the desired norm, a conscientious Jew is certainly enjoined to sense a degree of uneasiness that should motivate him to constantly pursue higher goals and move closer to perfection.

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            We find in Parashat Naso a section that (as Chazal explain) addresses a situation of a thief who initially denies his crime on oath and then comes forward to confess (5:5-10).  Upon confessing his crime, the thief must repay the stolen amount plus a 20% fine, and bring a guilt-offering to the Temple.  The Torah writes, "He shall return his wrong in its principal, and he shall add to it one-fifth, and he shall give it to he whom he had wronged" (5:7).  Why does the Torah emphasize that the thief "shall give to he whom he had wronged," meaning, to the victim?  Is this not obvious?

            Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson, in his Divrei Shaul, explains that the thief has committed a crime both against the victim – by stealing from him – and against God, by uttering a false oath denying his theft.  The principal amount must obviously be returned to the victim to atone for the theft, but the additional one-fifth is paid as part of the individual's atonement for his false oath, and one might therefore have concluded that it should go to the kohanim, or to the Temple treasury.  Just as the violator must bring an offering to God to atone for his false oath, we would likewise expect that this 20% payment, which similarly serves atone for that offense, should be paid "to God," or, in practical terms, to the Temple.  The Torah therefore emphasizes that the thief pays even the additional 20% to the victim.

            But the question then arises, why, in fact, does the thief pay this fine to the victim?  If he pays this amount not to make amends for the theft, but rather to atone for his false oath, why does he not pay it to the kohanim or Temple treasury?

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda (Denver, 1934), suggests that the 20% fine is paid to the victim because he indeed suffered as a result of the false oath.  A theft victim pins his hopes of retrieving his stolen property on the justice system, through which he can try the thief and have him ordered to return what he unlawfully seized.  But once the thief falsely avows his innocence on oath, the victim loses hope and suffers additional anguish.  Moreover, Rav Ginsburg notes, a false oath hurts the victim because it reflects negatively on him.  People will likely believe the thief's oath and thus naturally conclude that the victim cast false allegations.  Nobody will ever take his claims seriously after this hearing, from which it emerged that he falsely accused an innocent man of theft.  Therefore, even the 20% fine, which the thief pays to make amends for his sin of uttering a false oath, is paid to the victim, because of the additional anguish he suffered as a result of the oath.

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            Amidst the Torah's discussion in Parashat Naso of the responsibilities of the Levi'im in the Mishkan, it speaks of two categories of service performed by the Levi'im: "avodat avoda" (literally, "the service of service") and "avodat masa" ("the service of transport" – 4:47).  Avodat masa clearly refers to the Levi'im's responsibility to transport the Mishkan and its furnishings during travel in the wilderness.  But to what does the term avodat avoda refer?

            Rashi, citing the Gemara in Masekhet Arakhin (16a), explains avodat avoda to mean a service that is required as accompaniment to a different form of service.  It thus refers to the Levi'im's job of singing during the public sacrificial offerings in the Beit Ha-mikdash.  This was the avodat avoda – the service that accompanied the sacrificial service– that was charged upon the Levi'im.

            Rav Yaakov Mecklenberg, in his Ha-ketav Ve-ha-kabbala, notes the significance and implications of the Torah's reference to the Levi'im's music as avoda, religious service – the same term used to describe the other duties of the Levi'im as well as the sacrificial rituals.  Rav Mecklenberg finds it meaningful that just as mitzvot themselves are considered an avoda, a form of serving one's Creator, so is the joy and enthusiasm surrounding the mitzva performance deemed an avoda.  When a person performs a mitzva, he "serves God" in the sense that he expresses his sense of subservience to the Almighty and commitment to obeying His commands.  By the same token, by performing mitzvot with eager excitement, rather than with a begrudging sense of duty, one expresses his recognition of the inestimable value of fulfilling God's command, of the fact that obeying God's laws is man's greatest privilege.  This expression, too, is aptly termed avoda.

We might draw the simple and straightforward analogy to the contrast between a child who happily fulfills his parent's request with a smile and enthusiasm, and the child that answers the call with groans of complaint.  While both children have demonstrated their recognition of parental authority, the first brings the parent greater satisfaction in that he expresses his joy in fulfilling the parent's wish.

Likewise, the Levi'im's music in the Beit Ha-mikdash, as well as any expression of joy and excitement in the performance of mitzvot, may accurately be described as an avoda, as a profound expression of loyalty and devotion to God.

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            We read in Parashat Naso about the mitzva of birkat kohanim, the blessing the kohanim recite on behalf of the entire nation each day (6:22-27).  The Gemara in Masekhet Shabbat (118b) cites a remark relevant to this topic by Rabbi Yossi, who prided himself for his humble submission to the views of his colleagues.  Rabbi Yossi declared that he submits to his colleagues' views to such an extent that were they to ask him to ascend the dukhan (the platform on which the kohanim would recite birkat kohanim), he would obey, even though he knew he was not a kohen.

            Tosefot comment, "The Ri did not know what prohibition is involved for a non-kohen to ascend to the dukhan, other than a berakha le-vatala…"  The Ri appears to have understood from Rabbi Yossi's remark that Halakha forbids a non-kohen from reciting birkat kohanim, and yet Rabbi Yossi would nevertheless have obeyed his colleagues' instruction to participate in the priestly blessing.  To this the Ri comments that he does not know why it would be forbidden for a kohen to participate in birkat kohanim, besides the recitation of the introductory berakha, which, like all berakhot recited before a mitzva, is recited only by somebody obligated in the mitzva.  Assuming Rabbi Yossi would omit the introductory berakha, the Ri asks, there seems to be no halakhic reason to bar him from reciting birkat kohanim.  The Ri gives no answer to his question.

            Many Acharonim wondered how it is that the Ri overlooked an explicit passage in Masekhet Ketubot (24b), where the Gemara very clearly establishes that a non-kohen who recites birkat kohanim violates a mitzvat asei (affirmative command).  Rashi there identifies the mitzvat asei as the command to the kohanim, "amor lahem" ("say to them"), which implies that others may not declare this blessing.  How, then, could the Ri say that he does not know what prohibition is involved for a non-kohen to recite birkat kohanim?

            The Rama, in Darkhei Moshe (O.C. 128), claims that the prohibition referred to by the Gemara in Ketubot applies only if the non-kohen recites birkat kohanim alone, without the company of kohanim.  But if a non-kohen joins with kohanim in reciting this blessing, then he does not violate the prohibition.  The Ri understood Rabbi Yossi's comment as referring to situations where his colleagues urge him to join other kohanim in the recitation of the blessing, and the Ri therefore wondered what prohibition would have been entailed.

            Why would Halakha distinguish in this regard between the recitation of birkat kohanim alone, and in the company of kohanim?

            The Chatam Sofer, in his chiddushim to Ketubot, explains that the obligation for a kohen to administer birkat kohanim takes effect only when a representative from the congregation summons him to do so.  (Nowadays, either the shali'ach tzibur or the gabbai announces, "Kohanim!" summoning the kohanim to bless the congregation, and at this point the mitzva takes effect.)  It stands to reason, the Chatam Sofer asserts, that the prohibition for a non-kohen to usurp the kohen's role by reciting birkat kohanim applies only when the mitzva for the kohanim takes effect.  Hence, only once a representative from the congregation summons kohanim to recite birkat kohanim is there a prohibition for a non-kohen to come forward and recite this blessing.  Now when kohanim are present, the person summoning the kohanim clearly intends to summon only actual kohanim; he has no intention of inviting non-kohanim to the platform to administer this blessing.  Practically speaking, then, a non-kohen would not violate this prohibition when other kohanim are present, since he is not summoned to recite birkat kohanim.  It is only when no kohanim are present, and a non-kohen presents himself as a kohen and is mistakenly invited to recite birkat kohanim, that the prohibition applies.  For this reason, the Chatam Sofer suggests, the Rama held that a non-kohen does not violate this prohibition if he recites birkat kohanim together with actual kohanim.

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            Yesterday, we discussed a puzzling comment of Tosefot, in Masekhet Shabbat (118b), relevant to the mitzva of birkat kohanim, which the Torah presents in Parashat Naso.  Tosefot there cite the Ri as raising the question of why it is forbidden for a non-kohen to recite the priestly blessing, as indicated by the Gemara there in Shabbat.  As many Acharonim noted, the Gemara in Masekhet Ketubot (24b) states explicitly that a non-kohen who recites birkat kohanim violates a mitzvat asei, and the Ri's question therefore seems very difficult to understand.

            The Sefer Ha-makneh to Masekhet Ketubot resolves this difficulty by suggesting a distinction that runs in direct contrast to the distinction drawn by the Rama, as we discussed yesterday.  According to the Makneh, the prohibition against non-kohanim reciting birkat kohanim applies only when a non-kohen recites this berakha together with other kohanim.  If he ascends the dukhan alone and declares the priestly blessing, he does not violate this prohibition.  The Makneh arrives at this conclusion based on a novel understanding of the prohibition for a non-kohen to recite this blessing.  The Makneh held that the Torah forbade a non-kohen from administering birkat kohanim not because doing so would infringe upon the honor of the kohanim or generally signify an overstepping of one's bounds, but rather because he thereby neglects his own role in the mitzva of birkat kohanim.  According to the Makneh, just as the Torah obligates the kohanim to bless the rest of the nation, so does it enjoin the rest of the nation to be blessed by the kohanim.  The mitzva of birkat kohanim imposes upon Benei Yisrael the obligation to listen and accept the blessing of the kohanim.  Hence, if a non-kohen joins the kohanim in reciting the blessing rather than remaining with the rest of the congregation to accept the blessing, he has neglected his role in this mitzva.  Naturally, then, this prohibition applies only when kohanim are present.  If no kohanim are present, a non-kohen who ascends the dukhan to recite birkat kohanim has not violated any prohibition, since in any event in that setting he could not have received the kohanim's blessing.

            Accordingly, the Makneh explains, the Ri likely referred specifically to situations of a non-kohen who recites birkat kohanim alone, when no kohanim are present, and he therefore wondered what prohibition could possibly be entailed.

            The Maharsha (in Masekhet Shabbat) explains Tosefot differently, claiming that the Ri was speaking of merely ascending the dukhan without actually participating in the recitation of birkat kohanim.  Recall (from yesterday's discussion) that the Ri was discussing Rabbi Yossi's comment that if his colleagues would instruct him to ascend the dukhan, he would agree, despite the fact that he was not a kohen.  (Rabbi Yossi sought to demonstrate the extent to which he submitted to his colleagues' authority, even with regard to matters of which he would appear to have more definitive knowledge.)  According to the Maharsha, the Ri understood Rabbi Yossi to mean that he would agree to ascend to the dukhan, but he certainly would not have recited birkat kohanim, which, as mentioned, is forbidden for a non-kohen.

            The difficulty with the Maharsha's reading of Tosefot emerges from the end of Tosefot's comment: "The Ri did not know what prohibition is involved for a non-kohen to ascend to the dukhan, other than a berakha le-vatala…"  The Ri seems to claim that the only potential violation involved in Rabbi Yossi's participation in birkat kohanim is that of berakha le-vatala; meaning, it would be forbidden for him to recite the introductory blessing before birkat kohanim.  According to the Maharsha's reading, the Ri should have also mentioned the recitation of birkat kohanim itself, which would have constituted a violation.  The fact that the Ri made mention only of the introductory berakha strongly suggests that no violation would be involved had Rabbi Yossi joined in the actual birkat kohanim.

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            Over the last two days we have discussed Rabbi Yossi's comment, cited in Masekhet Shabbat (118b), "I know that I am not a kohen, but if my colleagues would tell me to ascend to the dukhan [the platform on which the kohanim stand for birkat kohanim], I would listen to them."  Rabbi Yossi here avowed that he submitted to his colleagues' authority to such an extent that he would even obey them were they to instruct him to participate in birkat kohanim, which is forbidden for a non-kohen.  Tosefot comment that the Ri could not identify the basis of this prohibition for a non-kohen to participate in birkat kohanim, and Tosefot provide no answer.  As we have discussed, many Acharonim wondered how the Ri could have overlooked an explicit passage in Masekhet Ketubot (24b), which states explicitly that a non-kohen who recites birkat kohanim transgresses a mitzvat asei.

            The Magen Avraham (O.C. 128) suggests a novel explanation that approaches Rabbi Yossi's remark in the context of Rabbi Yossi's ruling on an entirely different matter.  In several places in the Talmud (Eruvin 96a, Rosh Hashanah 33a), the Gemara cites a debate between Rabbi Yossi and the other Tanna'im as to whether a woman who brings an animal sacrifice is permitted to perform semikha – placing one's hands on the animal's head and confessing one's sins.  The Torah exempts women from semikha when they bring a sacrifice, but, according to Rabbi Yossi, women have the option of performing semikha should they wish to do so.  The Magen Avraham boldly suggests that this dispute is but one manifestation of a larger debate between Rabbi Yossi and the Chakhamim concerning the permissibility of performing a ritual that is designated for a different group.  Hence, according to Rabbi Yossi, a non-kohen is, in fact, permitted to recite birkat kohanim.  The Gemara in Ketubot which spoke of a prohibition to this effect referred only to the majority view of the Chakhamim; Rabbi Yossi, however, allows a non-kohen to participate in the priestly blessing.  Naturally, then, the Ri wondered why Rabbi Yossi prided himself on his preparedness to recite birkat kohanim in deference to his colleagues' instruction, given that in his view, no prohibition is entailed.

            It should be noted that Rabbenu Yerucham (introduction to his maftechot) had a different version of the text of this Talmudic passage, whereby Rabbi Yossi does not refer to birkat kohanim at all.  According to Rabbenu Yerucham's version of the text, Rabbi Yossi remarked, "I know I am not worthy, but if my colleagues would tell me to ascend the dukhan, I would listen to them."  Rabbi Yossi refers to ascending the dukhan not for the recitation of birkat kohanim, but rather for delivering a Torah lecture.  Rabbi Yossi here remarks that although he knows he is not worthy of delivering public Torah lectures, he would defer to his colleagues' decision should they insist that he assume this position.

            According to this reading, Rabbi Yossi here addresses the issue of the possible limits on humility when it comes to assuming leadership roles.  At times, despite a person's acknowledgment of inadequacy, he must nevertheless rise to the challenge of leadership if his peers look to him as the only one qualified to assume such a role.

(Sources for the last three editions of S.A.L.T. were taken from the compendium, Ke-motzei Shalal Rav.)

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The Gemara in Masekhet Berakhot (7b) comments that the name "Rut" alludes to this woman's illustrious descendant, King David, who "saturated the Almighty with songs and praises" ("she-riveihu le-Ha-Kadosh Barukh Hu be-shirot ve-tishbachot").  The root r.v.h. means to "saturate," and thus the name "Rut," which may be read as a derivative of this root, alludes to this quality of King David.

The Chatam Sofer explains this association, between the name "Rut" and the "songs and praises" sung by King David, by taking a closer look at one of the outstanding qualities of Rut as manifest in the story told in the book that bears her name.  The megila begins by telling that Elimelekh, a wealthy magnate from Beit Lechem, left his land and his people to escape the famine conditions that had overtaken the region.  So long as he and his townspeople enjoyed success and prosperity, so long as his fields received sufficient rainfall and produced quality grain, he lived as a committed and devout member of Benei Yisrael.  But once "the going got rough" and hard times came upon him, he jumped ship.  He left his people behind and relocated in the enemy country of Moav.  Rut, however, did just the opposite.  Originating from royal stock (Chazal identify her as a granddaughter of the Moavite king Eglon), she joined her destitute mother-in-law and settled in Beit Lechem in a state of humiliating poverty.  If Elimelekh represents the Jew whose loyalty to his people and his faith depends upon its convenience or immediate dividends, then Rut represents unconditional devotion, the commitment to the Torah way of life despite the difficulties that are often entailed.

Rut was rewarded for her unconditional loyalty by begetting David, who "saturated the Almighty with songs and praises."  The Chatam Sofer explains this "saturation" as referring to David's ongoing praise of the Almighty even during the most trying times.  Indeed, the very next passage in Masekhet Berakhot addresses the term mizmor with which David begins the third chapter of Tehillim, which he composed while fleeing from his son, Avshalom.  The Gemara explains that David could compose a mizmor, a joyful song of praise, even under such circumstances, because he was appreciative to God for punishing him specifically through his son, who would likely show him some compassion, rather than through some other rebel.  David inherited from his great-grandmother, Rut, the strength to retain his love of God and rejoice in His service even in the face of challenge.  He was thus capable of "saturating" God with praise, of joyfully thanking the Almighty even during times of crisis.

            Appropriately, we read the story of Rut on Shavuot, on the day when we celebrate our unconditional acceptance of the Torah.  Through this story we are reminded that the Torah way of life sometimes demands difficult sacrifices and requires hurdling many obstacles.  Through our festive celebration of Shavuot, we demonstrate our joy and enthusiasm in committing ourselves to the Torah, despite the sacrifices and hard work it entails.