PARASHAT BEHAALOTEKHA

By Rav David Silverberg

            The final section of Parashat Beha’alotekha tells the story of Miriam and Aharon’s disparaging remarks about their younger brother, Moshe.  Miriam (who apparently initiated the conversation) was stricken by the tzara’at skin infection as punishment for her inappropriate speech about Moshe.

            In describing this event, the Torah writes, “Miriam and Aharon spoke about Moshe… They said, ‘Has the Lord spoken only with Moshe?  Did He not speak with us, as well?’  And the Lord heard” (12:2).  Why does the Torah emphasize that “the Lord heard” what was said about Moshe?

            Ibn Ezra and Chizkuni explain that Aharon and Miriam’s conversation took place in private, and not in Moshe’s – or anyone else’s – presence.  The Torah stresses that although no person heard what was said, God heard and immediately reacted.  Others, including the Ramban and Shadal, claim that Moshe was indeed present and heard what was said.  Shadal proves this from the Torah’s account two verses later: “The Lord suddenly said to Moshe, Aharon and Miriam: Go, the three of you, to the Tent of Meeting.”  This clearly implies that the three siblings were together during this incident.  According to these commentators, the Torah emphasizes that “the Lord heard” to indicate that God reacted angrily even though Moshe did not.  After recording Moshe and Aharon’s remarks, the Torah describes Moshe’s unparalleled humility, as a result of which he paid no heed to what was said about him.  The phrase, “and the Lord heard” conveys the message that even if Moshe did not care, God did.  Moshe acted as though he did not hear, but the Almighty certainly heard and did not allow this infraction on Moshe’s stature to go unpunished.

            According to both interpretations, this phrase stresses the accountability we bear even for actions that appear to yield no impact upon others.  We are responsible for what we say and do regardless of whether those actions or words affect anybody else.  Even if nobody hears, we must remember that “va-yishma Hashem” – the Almighty assuredly hears and takes note.  God’s constant presence suffices to demand proper speech and conduct under all circumstances and in every situation, even where it seems that our actions have no effect whatsoever on any other person.

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            The Torah in Parashat Beha’alotekha tells of the special cloud that hovered over the Mishkan after its construction.  Throughout the forty years of travel, the cloud would rise or descend over the Mishkan to indicate that Benei Yisrael should embark or encamp.  The Torah writes regarding this cloud, “On the day the Mishkan was erected, the cloud covered the Mishkan…” (9:15).

            The Gemara in Masekhet Shavuot (15b) infers from the phrase, “the day the Mishkan was erected” that the construction of the Beit Ha-mikdash – the “successor,” if you will, of the temporary Mishkan – must take place specifically during the daytime.  The Torah emphasized that the Mishkan was erected by day as an allusion to the fact that the building of the Temple should not be done at night.

            What might be the reason underlying this halakha?

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, suggests that the construction of the Temple is perhaps bound by the same guidelines that apply in the Temple.  Just as sacrifices are offered specifically by day, similarly, the work for the Mikdash’s construction must also be done only during the daytime hours.

            Additionally, the Yalkut Yehuda comments, this provision may simply reflect God’s concern not to overburden Benei Yisrael.  As important an endeavor as the Temple’s construction is, God did not want this project to occupy Benei Yisrael both by day and by night.  Nighttime is generally a period of rest and relaxation, which God did not want to deny Benei Yisrael, even for an undertaking as significant as the building of the Beit Ha-mikdash.

            This notion may reflect the tension that exists between the importance of tireless exertion to maximize one’s potential to the fullest, and the need to lead a normal, pleasant lifestyle without bearing a constant and overwhelming burden of pressure.  While we are certainly urged to invest effort and make sacrifices in the pursuit of spiritual excellence, the Torah also recognizes the value of some degree of comfort and ease in life.  Even when it came to the lofty goal of building the Mikdash, the Torah did not overburden the people, it still allowed them opportunities to rest and replenish their energies.  While we must certainly work hard and invest considerable time and energy into the building of our individual and communal “Batei Mikdash,” the Torah is also interested in ensuring that we maintain a level of comfort and ease in life, and that our spiritual pursuits do not become an unbearable burden upon our shoulders.

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            Yesterday, we noted the halakha established by the Gemara in Masekhet Shavuot (15b) – based on a verse in Parashat Beha’alotekha (9:15) – that the construction of the Beit Ha-mikdash is to take place specifically during the daytime hours, and not at night.

            The Minchat Chinukh (95) writes that this halakha applies only on the level of “le-khatechila,” meaning, the optimal standard.  If, for whatever reason, the workers engaged in construction activity on the Mikdash at night, the work is valid.  Thus, for example, if a wall was constructed at night, it does not have to be disassembled and rebuilt during the day.  The Minchat Chinukh considers this assumption “pashut” – simple and self-evident.

            However, as noted by Rav David Rappaport in his Mikdash David (1), the Talmud Yerushalmi in the beginning of Masekhet Yoma appears to indicate otherwise.  The Yerushalmi relates that during the week of the milu’im – the first week after the Mishkan’s construction, when the kohanim were consecrated for their role – the Mishkan was disassembled and then reassembled twice each day.  Each night and morning during this seven-day period, Moshe would disassemble the Mishkan and then built it anew.  The Yerushalmi comments that the disassembly in the morning was required because “hakamat layela poselet la-avodat yom” – the nighttime assembly of the Mishkan does not render it suitable for the sacrificial offerings brought the following day.  The Mishkan had to be taken down again in the morning because the nighttime construction was invalid.  This clearly indicates that the halakha requiring building specifically during the day applied not only “le-khatechila,” but even “be-di’avad” (after the fact).  Indeed, any part of the Mikdash built during the night would have to be torn down, as it was not built during the proper time period.

            The Steipler Gaon, in his Kehilot Yaakov (Shavuot 9), suggested distinguishing in this regard between the assembly of the Mishkan and the work done at the Beit Ha-mikdash.  The Yerushalmi speaks only of “hakama” – “erecting” the Mishkan.  Theoretically, if the Beit Ha-mikdash was built in a single night, it would indeed be disqualified on the grounds of “hakamat layela” – because it was erected during the night.  In practice, however, the Beit Ha-mikdash was constructed over the course of several years – it could not be erected in a single night the way Moshe erected the Mishkan each night during the week of the milu’im.  Thus, although the construction should optimally be done during the day, work done at night is not, after the fact, invalid.  The disqualification mentioned by the Yerushalmi applies only to a case where the edifice is erected in its entirety overnight, and not to the building of a portion of the building during the nighttime hours.

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            As we’ve discussed in our previous two editions of S.A.L.T., the Gemara in Masekhet Shavuot (15b) infers from a verse in Parashat Beha’alotekha (9:15) that the construction of the Beit Ha-mikdash should take place specifically during the day.  The Gemara understood the verse as indicating that the Mishkan was erected specifically during the day, establishing a rule that applies even to the construction of the permanent Beit Ha-mikdash.  It, too, must be built only by day, and not by night.

            The Rambam codifies this halakha in the first chapter of Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira (halakha 12).  Many later writers noted the irony in the fact that in this same halakha, the Rambam emphasizes that the mitzva of building the Beit Ha-mikdash applies to both men and women alike.  All members of Am Yisrael, the Rambam writes, share the collective obligation to ensure the Temple’s construction.  A famous halakhic rule establishes that women are exempt from mitzvot asei she-ha’zman gerama – affirmative commands that apply only in specific time-frames – unless the Torah indicates otherwise.  Seemingly, if the mitzva of constructing the Mikdash applies only during the daytime hours, it should fall under the category of mitzvot asei she-ha’zman gerama, from which women are generally exempt.  Why, then, does the Rambam write that both men and women are required to participate in the building of the Beit Ha-mikdash?

            One possible answer relates to the issue discussed yesterday, concerning the status of Temple construction performed at night.  As we saw, the Minchat Chinukh (95) commented that if a part of the Mikdash was built at night, it does not have to be taken down.  Although the building activities are to take place specifically during the day, nighttime building does not disqualify the structure after the fact.  Accordingly, Rav Baruch Yitzchak Yissachar Leventhal suggests in his Birkat Yitzchak (Jerusalem, 5706) that the mitzva of building the Mikdash does not qualify as a mitzvat asei she-ha’zman gerama in the strict sense of the term.  This category consists of mitzvot that are integrally bound by a specific time-frame, meaning, that apply only in particular periods.  For example, a person who wears tefillin at night has not performed any meaningful halakhic act whatsoever, since the mitzva applies only during the daytime.  When it comes to building the Beit Ha-mikdash, however, the fact that construction performed at nighttime is nevertheless valid demonstrates that the mitzva is not inherently bound by time.  The provision restricting the building to the daytime hours should be viewed as a separate, external halakha, which is not integral to the mitzva.  Fundamentally, the mitzva applies even at night, and it therefore applies to both men and women alike.  (One could, however, argue by distinguishing between the mitzva of building the Temple and the result of a valid Temple.  Even if nighttime construction is acceptable in producing the result of a valid, suitable Mikdash, it does not necessarily follow that the mitzva has been fulfilled.)

            Another possibility is to distinguish between personal and collective mitzvot.  Women’s exemption from mitzvot asei she-ha’zman gerama quite possibly applies only to personal mitzvot, obligations which the Torah imposes personally upon the individual.  The mitzva to construct a Temple, however, belongs to the group of mitzvot assigned to Am Yisrael collectively, as an organic whole.  It stands to reason that these mitzvot apply to both men and women even in cases of mitzvot asei she-ha’zman gerama.  Since the mitzva is charged upon the entire nation, as a single entity, it seems reasonable not to differentiate between different groups, and to rather extend the obligation to all members of Am Yisrael.

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            Over the last several days we have discussed the halakha established by the Gemara in Masekhet Shavuot (15b) that the construction of the Beit Ha-mikdash should take place specifically by day, and not by night.  Chazal found an allusion to this halakha in a verse in Parashat Beha’alotekha (9:15) which makes reference to “the day the Mishkan was erected,” suggesting that the assembly of the Mishkan took place specifically during the day.

            A number of writers noted that elsewhere the Talmud appears to indicate the possibility of constructing the Mikdash even during the night.  The Gemara in Masekhet Sukka (41a) discusses the enactment issued by Rabban Yochanan ben Zakai after the Second Temple’s destruction that forbade partaking of newly harvested grain on the 16^th of Nissan.  When the Temple stood, newly harvested grain became permitted for consumption with the offering of the korban ha-omer sacrifice in the Mikdash on this day.  In the absence of the Mikdash, Torah law allows partaking of new grain already at daybreak on the morning of the 16^th of Nissan.  Rabban Yochanan, however, legislated that the newly reaped grain would remain forbidden throughout the day.  He was concerned that if people grew accustomed to eating the new grain already in the morning, they would do so even when the Temple is rebuilt – an occurrence that Rabban Yochanan anticipated each day.  Rabban Yochanan therefore extended the prohibition to the entire day of the 16^th of Nissan, so that when the sacrificial rite in the Mikdash is restored, people will not eat new grain before the offering of the korban ha-omer.

            The Gemara raises the question of why Rabbi Yochanan extended the prohibition throughout the entire day, rather than just until midday.  The Mishna in Masekhet Menachot (68a) states that during the times of the Temple, Jews who lived far from the Temple, and did not know when the omer sacrifice was offered, were allowed to eat the newly harvested grain at midday of the 16^th of Nissan.  The kohanim in the Mikdash could be presumed to offer the omer sacrifice during the morning hours, and therefore the grain became permissible no later than midday.  Seemingly, then, Rabban Yochanan should have extended the prohibition against eating new grain only until midday, at which point the grain becomes permissible when the Temple stands.  The Gemara answers that Rabban Yochanan entertained the possibility that the Temple would be rebuilt during the night of the 16^th of Nissan.  If this happens, then the lengthy process of preparing the grain used for the omer sacrifice – a process which normally began during the night of the 16^th – would not begin until the morning of the 16^th.  This would result in the delaying of the korban ha-omer until the afternoon.  Rabban Yochanan therefore enacted that one should refrain from partaking of newly harvested grain until the end of the 16^th of Nissan.

            Rashi, in his commentary to Masekhet Sukka, raises the question of how to reconcile the Gemara’s answer with the halakha restricting the construction of the Mikdash to the daytime hours.  Why would Rabban Yochanan be concerned with the possibility that the Temple would be rebuilt during the night of the 16^th of Nissan, if Halakha forbids building the Mikdash at night?

            Rashi answers that this halakha applied only to the first and second Batei Mikdash.  The third and final Temple, Rashi writes, will not be built by human beings; it will rather descend readymade from the heavens.  Rashi cites in this context the verse from Shirat Ha-yam (the song of praise sung after the miracle of the splitting of the sea) which speaks of God’s hands, as it were, building the Beit Ha-mikdash (“Mikdash Hashem konenu yadekha” – Shemot 15:17).  Therefore, the third Mikdash could, indeed, surface during the nighttime, thus prompting Rabban Yochanan to enact his provision concerning the newly harvested grain.

            The Arukh La-ner disagrees with Rashi’s answer, claiming that even the third Temple will be built by human hands, and this construction – like the building of the first two Batei Mikdash – must take place specifically during the day.  However, the Arukh La-ner asserts, this provision applies only to the construction of the building, and not to the construction of the keilim – the various accessories and appurtenances of the Mikdash.  The altars, for example, are allowed to be built even during the nighttime hours.  On the basis of this assumption, the Arukh La-ner easily reconciles the Gemara’s discussion with the prohibition against building the Temple at night.  In Masekhet Megila (10a), the Gemara cites the view of Rabbi Yehoshua that sacrifices may be offered upon the altar even in the absence of the Mikdash.  The Rambam codifies Rabbi Yehoshua’s position in Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira (6:15).  Accordingly, Rabban Yochanan’s concern related not to the construction of the Mikdash, but rather to the construction of the altar, upon which the korban ha-omer was offered.  He feared that the process of rebuilding of the Temple might begin on the night of the 16^th, in which case the altar (and other keilim) would be constructed already that night, and the korban ha-omer would then be offered the following afternoon.  He therefore enacted his provision forbidding partaking of the new grain throughout the entire day of the 16^th.

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            The Midrash Tanchuma, as famously cited in (some editions of) Rashi’s commentary to the first verse of Parashat Beha’alotekha, addresses the relationship between the opening section of this parasha to the previous section.  Parashat Naso concludes by describing the offerings and gifts brought by the nesi’im (tribal leaders) at the Mishkan’s inauguration, and this section is immediately followed by God’s command to Moshe concerning the kindling of the menora, which occupies the first verses of Parashat Beha’alotekha.  The Midrash comments that Aharon felt dismayed over having been excluded from the special offerings of the nesi’im.  God sought to soothe Aharon’s uneasiness by reassuring him that, in the Midrash’s words, “yours is greater than theirs – for you kindle and prepare the lamps [of the menora].”

            Already the Ramban raised the question of why Aharon would feel slighted by his exclusion from the nesi’im’s gift, and how a reminder of his role in kindling the menora would provide consolation.  Aharon was assuredly well aware of this privilege – which was in any event one of numerous rituals which were reserved specifically for the kohanim.  What was unique about the kindling of the menora that would ease Aharon’s distress?

            Rav Yehuda Amital shelit”a (http://vbm-torah.org/archive/sichot67/36-67behaal.htm) explained that the offering of the nesi’im was special in that it was the “first time,” it marked the first instance of voluntary offerings brought in the Mishkan.  The “first time” often carries with it a unique level of excitement and leaves an especially strong impression.  Rav Amital noted that when the first steps of any endeavor are taken, “all the power is drawn from the future.  There is no past upon which to lean in taking these steps; there is only a future dream that motivates us to action.  The dream is always greater…than reality, and therefore the first steps embody the greatest power.”  The nesi’im were privileged to experience the newness of this kind of divine worship, and Aharon felt distraught over having missed this opportunity.

            God’s response to Aharon was the mitzva of the menora, which, though performed every day, requires a new kindling each time.  All the oil from the previous kindling has been consumed; the kohen must begin anew, each day, filling the lamps with new oil and lighting fresh wicks.  The kindling of the menora signified the possibility of experiencing “newness” even in daily rituals.  A person can perform the same mitzva each day with vigor and enthusiasm as though he performs it for the first time.  Although Aharon missed the opportunity afforded by the inaugural offering of the nesi’im, he was nevertheless capable of reaping the same benefits through the daily lighting of the menora.  The same act is performed each day – but each time the kohen must clear away the wicks and sediment left from the previous day’s lighting, and light the candles anew.

            Rav Amital noted that the lights of the menora are often viewed as a symbol of Torah learning.  Like the kindling of the lamps, Torah study can and should be approached with vigor and a sense of renewal, each and every day.  It is possible to approach even old material as something new and fresh, something that one has yet to properly analyze and internalize.  This sense of “newness” allows the student to feel invigorated from his learning as though he studies for the first time, each and every time he engages in Torah study.

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            Among the episodes recorded in Parashat Beha’alotekha is the incident of Kivrot Ha-ta’ava, where Benei Yisrael voiced unjustified complaints about the conditions in the wilderness:

The riffraff that were among them experienced a desire, and then the Israelites went ahead and cried and said: “Who will feed us meat?  We remember the fish that we ate free of charge in Egypt – the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions and the garlic.  Now, alas, our souls are empty – there is nothing!  All we have to look forward to is the manna!” (11:4-6)

God eventually punished the people for their conduct.  After providing them with meat, God then delivered a plague that killed an unspecified number of people among Benei Yisrael (11:33).

            The incident of Kivrot Ha-ta’ava is instructive on several levels, most obviously as an example of the human tendency to complain, to feel discontent and ungrateful.  Rather than expressing gratitude to God for miraculously sustaining them, Benei Yisrael grumbled about the menu.  And they even waxed nostalgic about the “good life” they enjoyed under Egyptian bondage, rather than thanking the Almighty for delivering them from slavery.  People so often focus their attention on what they do not as yet have, rather than feeling gratified over what they have, and this appears to be precisely what happened at Kivrot Ha-ta’ava.

            It is interesting to note how this episode unfolded: “The riffraff that were among them experienced a desire, and then the Israelites went ahead and cried…”  It began with a discontented group that protested the conditions in the wilderness, and these grumblings were later joined by the rest of Benei Yisrael.  It sometimes happens that people feel satisfied and content with their situation until others point out to them what is missing.  Suddenly, their perspective changes and they become dissatisfied.  This danger is likely what underlies the famous Talmudic discussion in Masekhet Ketubot (17a) concerning the praise sung to a bride at her wedding in the groom’s presence.  Beit Hillel allows extolling the bride for her beauty regardless of whether such praise is deserved, because, as Beit Hillel explained, “If someone makes a bad purchase from the store, should one praise it in front of him or deride it in front of him?  Certainly, he should praise it in front of him.”  Beit Hillel understood the importance of helping people feel content and satisfied with what they have.  If a person feels good about his purchases, it is improper to tell him that he could have found something better, and thereby breed discontentment.  The same, of course, applies to one’s choice of a spouse, and all the more so.  The story of Kivrot Ha-ta’ava perhaps demonstrates the danger posed by the “asafsuf” (“riffraff”) who make people feel disgruntled by noting what they could have but do not have.

            Rav Avraham Pam (in Rav Shalom Smith’s Shabbos with Rav Pam) noted that the Kivrot Ha-ta’ava episode may convey a more specific lesson relevant to the appreciation one should have toward food.  Halakha presents guidelines concerning the respect with which one must treat food, which must be appreciated and recognized as a blessing and gift from the Almighty.  Just as Benei Yisrael acted wrongly by protesting the manna, similarly, it is inappropriate to complain about any food we are served.  Rav Pam objected to using derisive words such as “junk” and “garbage” in reference to food, and even discouraged parents from asking their children how they find the food in summer camp, as the response will many times be negative.  Any food we are given is, in essence, the “manna” which God showers from the heavens to sustain us.  Even if a certain food does not accommodate our particular taste, this does not allow us to speak about it derisively and fail to give it the respect that a divine gift deserves.