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Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT BEHA'ALOTEKHA

by Rav David Silverberg

The final section of Parashat Beha'alotekha tells of the unfortunate incident of Miriam and Aharon's negative talk about their brother, Moshe. After recording their denigrating remarks, the Torah attests to Moshe's unparalleled humility: "The man Moshe was exceedingly humble – more so than any man on the face of the earth" (12:3).

Rav Moshe Leib Shachor, in his Avnei Shoham, comments in this context that Moshe's unsurpassed humility was a necessary prerequisite for his role as transmitter of the Torah. This role entailed conveying the Torah precisely as it was received, without imposing onto it any personal innovation or modification. In essence, Moshe had to negate his ego entirely, so as to ensure that what he transmitted to Benei Yisrael was nothing other than an exact carbon copy of the Torah given to him at Sinai. Necessarily, then, only a person capable of submitting himself fully and unconditionally to the authority of another, who can completely suppress his creative impulse for the sake of dictating God's laws with perfect precision, could fill this role. (Needless to say, the process of Torah she-be-al peh requires that scholars invest their intellectual energies and very often apply creative thinking. But the initial transmission of the divine law had to be precise, leaving no room for creativity or innovative thought.)

A somewhat similar notion is expressed by Rav Chayim of Volozhin, in his commentary to Pirkei Avot entitled Ru'ach Chayim (1:1). Rav Chayim explains the indispensable role of humility in the process of Torah study generally. Egotistical ambition, he claims, takes up space, so-to-speak, within a person's consciousness, space that could otherwise be occupied by Torah knowledge. To the extent to which a person's attention is focused on his own needs and gratification, rather than the pursuit of truth, he leaves less mental capacity available for containing Torah. Moshe Rabbenu, the humblest of all men, reached the point where he cared not at all for any personal gain or gratification; his sole ambition was avodat Hashem. Only in this way was he capable of mastering all of Torah – because no space in his consciousness was occupied by self-serving concerns.

We might apply this general concept to explain the Talmud's famous description of God suspending Mount Sinai over Benei Yisrael at the time of Matan Torah, forcing them to accept its rules (Shabbat 88a). Many explanations have been offered to reconcile this image with the Torah's narrative of this event (Shemot 24), which appears to portray Benei Yisrael as enthusiastic partners in the process of Matan Torah. Perhaps the Gemara refers not to the coerced acceptance of the Torah, but rather to God's unilateral establishment of the terms of this agreement. Benei Yisrael indeed accepted the divine law willfully, but they had no say in the content of that law. The image of the suspended mountain perhaps symbolizes the suspension of the nation's egos and creativity, the total subjection of their will to divine authority. They willingly allowed themselves to stand "underneath the mountain," to remain entirely passive in the process of forging this covenantal relationship with God. They allowed Him to dictate the terms of this relationship, fully trusting that "Torat Hashem tamima" – any Torah He presents to them is pure, perfect and pristine. Thus, there is no contradiction between their enthusiastic willingness to accept the Torah, and the image described by the Gemara. For this image refers not to coercion, but to Benei Yisrael's attitude of self-negation with respect to God's Torah – an attitude that is required for one to truly accept upon himself the divine creed and become an eved Hashem.

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The Gemara in Masekhet Pesachim (68b; also in Beitza 15b) cites a famous debate between Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua surrounding two seemingly contradictory descriptions in the Torah of the essence of Yom Tov. In Sefer Bamidbar (29:35), the Torah refers to Yom Tov as an "atzeret… lakhem" – a festival "for you," which is taken to imply a day for personal enjoyment. In Sefer Devarim (16:8), by contrast, Yom Tov is depicted as an "atzeret le-Hashem Elokekha" – a festival "for the Lord your God," evidently suggesting that it be devoted to the inherently spiritual pursuits of study and prayer. Rabbi Eliezer resolves this contradiction by asserting that the Torah presents the option of either spending Yom Tov indulging in physical enjoyment, or devoting the day to Torah learning and tefila. Rabbi Yehoshua disagrees, arguing that every individual must combine both elements into his Yom Tov observance; each person must spend some time on Yom Tov in festive celebration, and also devote some time for learning and tefila. (Rabbi Yehoshua's view is indeed the accepted position.)

Interestingly, the Gemara qualifies this debate, by applying it to all festivals except for Shavuot. On this holiday, the Gemara asserts, even Rabbi Eliezer agrees that one may not devote the entire day to only spiritual endeavors. As this day commemorates the receiving of the Torah on Sinai, it demands festive celebration. Shavuot thus differs from the other Yamim Tovim, which, according to Rabbi Eliezer, one may devote exclusively to sublime pursuits. Later, the Gemara cites the timeless aphorism of Rav Yosef, who remarked that on Shavuot he would make a point of preparing a particularly robust meal, "For if not for the effect of this day, there are many 'Yosef's' in the marketplace ('kama Yosef ika be-shuka')." Since on Shavuot we received the Torah, which distinguishes Rav Yosef – an accomplished scholar – from all other "Yosef's," he afforded particular importance to the celebration of this day.

The question, of course, arises as to why the commemoration of Matan Torah, more so than the celebrations of the other festivals, mandate festivities characterized by physical indulgence. To the contrary, Rav Yosef's emphasis on the choice piece of meat he would insist upon for his Shavuot meal seems almost inappropriate when dealing with a day of such spiritual significance as Shavuot. This preoccupation with food becomes particularly striking nowadays, when among the most prominent features of this holiday is the time-honored custom to study Torah through the night (albeit interspersed with cheesecake). How might we understand this emphasis on festive eating in the observance of Shavuot?

Rav Eliyahu Shulman of Yeshiva University suggested the following explanation ( www.yutorah.org/showshiur.cfm?shiurID=706152 ). Chazal in several places classify Shabbat and Yom Tov as an ot – a sign of the covenant between God and Am Yisrael. This designation yields halakhic ramifications: we refrain from wearing tefillin on Shabbat and Yom Tov because tefillin serves as a sign of the covenant, which would be superfluous on Shabbat and Yom Tov. For this reason, Rav Shulman suggests, Yom Tov – according to both Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua – must feature a combination between physical and spiritual engagement. As a celebration of the covenantal relationship between God and Israel, Yom Tov observance must include both human and divine features – eating and drinking on the one hand, and Torah and tefila on the other. The combination of these two types of activity accurately captures the theme of the covenant – the mutual bond and relationship between man and God.

While Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua both accept this basic principle, they disagree regarding its practical implementation. Rabbi Yehoshua, representing perhaps the more intuitive approach, reached the natural conclusion that each individual must combine both elements in his Yom Tov observance. Rabbi Eliezer, however, felt that it suffices for different members of Benei Yisrael to express these different aspects. Even if some people engage in Torah and prayer while others spend the day indulging, the collective effect suffices to reflect the bond between God and Benei Yisrael.

Such an arrangement, however, can work only on Pesach and Sukkot. These two festivals celebrate inherently national events – the Exodus (Pesach) and Benei Yisrael's experiences in the wilderness (Sukkot). Shavuot, however, commemorates primarily the personal acceptance of Torah by each and every individual. This personal quality of the Shavuot commemoration is perhaps expressed most clearly by Rav Yosef, who saw this festival as his personal celebration of his share in Torah. Given the personal nature of Shavuot, the observance of each individual must independently reflect the covenant theme. Hence, even Rabbi Eliezer insists that on Shavuot one combine the physical and the spiritual, festive eating and spiritual growth. Since on this day each individual celebrates his personal acceptance of, and devotion to, Torah, his observance of this day must be self-sufficient in expressing the basic theme of Yom Tov.

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Parashat Beha'alotekha begins with God's instructions concerning the lighting of the menora, including a brief description of its appearance. Rashi (8:4) famously comments, based on the Sifrei, that Moshe had difficulty envisioning the menora, and the Almighty therefore showed him an image of how the menora should look. The Midrash Tanchuma makes a similar comment by suggesting a double entendre of the word miksha used in the Torah's description. According to the straightforward reading, miksha means that the menora was to be sculpted from a single block of gold. But the Midrash suggests that miksha might also relate to the Hebrew word for "difficult" ("kasheh," or "koshi"), alluding to the hardship Moshe experienced in envisioning the form of the menora.

Many writers have wondered why particularly the menora, more so than any of the other features of the Mishkan (or, for that matter, the Mishkan itself), would prove so baffling for Moshe. Was its composition or shape any more complex or intricate than that of the other of the Mishkan's appurtenances?

In answering this question, many writers resorted to the approach of derush, suggesting that we read this Midrashic passage symbolically, rather than literally. Meaning, it was perhaps not the physical structure of the menora that baffled Moshe, but rather a theme or concept it symbolized.

One explanation along these lines is cited in the name of the legendary Rav Yosef Rosen of Dvinsk, known as the "Rogatchover Gaon." As mentioned earlier, the Midrash Tanchuma interprets the term miksha as a subtle allusion to the inherent difficulty in envisioning the menora. The Rogatchover suggests that Moshe's difficulty perhaps lay specifically in this quality of miksha – that all segments of the menora were to be sculpted from a single block of gold. This feature represents the cohesion of all the different elements of Am Yisrael into a single mold, how the different groups somehow blend into an integrated whole. It was this cohesion, perhaps, that Moshe found difficult to grasp. As we discussed a number of days ago, the first chapters of Sefer Bamidbar establish a very clear and definite barrier between the kohanim, the Levi'im, and the rest of the nation. Each group was assigned its own place, and it appeared that the nation was comprised of loosely related factions, rather than constituting a single, indivisible national entity. What the menora represented was that all members of the nation are ultimately bound together by a single, shared destiny. Just as the decorative gold flowers of the menora – symbolizing the spiritual leadership – belonged to the same block of metal as the menora's stand – symbolic of the commoners – so do all members of Am Yisrael combine into an integrated whole. This seemingly self-contradictory duality puzzled Moshe, who could not – at first – quite understand how the different segments of the nation indeed formed a single, national entity.

This theme perhaps arises later in Parashat Beha'alotekha, as well. God instructs Moshe to perform a special purification ritual consecrating the Levi'im for their position in the Mishkan. In this context, God elaborates somewhat on their role in serving the kohanim and enforcing the restrictions on entry into the Mishkan (8:19). As Rashi notes, the Torah appears to redundantly repeat the term "Benei Yisrael" five times in this verse. Based on the writings of Rabbi Moshe Ha-darshan, Rashi explains this repetition as a subtle indication of God's immense love for Benei Yisrael, that He regards them as important as the five books of the Torah. The Chiddushei Ha-Rim (cited by his grandson, the Sefat Emet) explained that as God singles out the Levi'im to assume the role of His attendants in the Mishkan, He found it necessary to remind the rest of the nation of His love towards them, as well. He therefore emphasizes that just as the Torah consists of five distinct sections that come together to form a unified whole, so do the different segments of Benei Yisrael ultimately comprise one nation with whom God has established a special relationship. Despite the distinction afforded the Levi'im, the rest of Benei Yisrael belong to the same "block of gold"; they, too, are beloved before God, who looks upon all the nation's members as intrinsically sacred and valuable, of equal standing and stature as the Torah itself.

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The opening verses of Parashat Beha'alotekha present the basic guidelines concerning the lighting of the menora. The Torah emphasizes that upon hearing these instructions, Aharon faithfully obeyed and lit the menora in accordance with the specified procedure (8:3). Rashi cites the comment of the Sifrei that the Torah here pays tribute to Aharon, commending him for the fact she-lo shina – "that he did not deviate." Aharon earned the Torah's acclaim for following the prescribed procedure meticulously, without any deviation.

Many writers throughout the centuries have wondered why Aharon deserved such distinction for simply fulfilling his duty. Would we have expected anything less? Why does the Torah, as understood by the Sifrei, make a point of emphasizing Aharon's greatness as manifest in his compliance with the rules regarding the lighting of the menora?

Among the many explanations offered is the clever approach taken by Rav Menachem Ben-Tziyon Zaks, in his Menachem Tziyon. Avot De-Rabbi Natan (12:3) famously describes the way in which Aharon would resolve disputes that erupted between friends. He would approach one party and describe the anguish and shame the other feels, having recognized his guilt in the given affair. As Aharon would describe the other party's genuine feelings of remorse and guilt, the one with whom he spoke overcame his hard feelings and sought reconciliation. Aharon would then approach the second party and describe the pangs of regret experienced by the first party. In this way, both people would rise above their feelings of animosity and work towards restoring their friendship. Aharon made use in these situations of the halakhic principle, mutar le-shanot mipenei ha-shalom – one may distort the truth for the sake of peace. The most famous instance of this rule, perhaps, is the story of Avraham and Sara. As Rashi comments (Bereishit 18:13), Sara questions her ability to conceive given her husband's advanced age, but when God repeats this remark to Avraham, he records Sara as having spoken of herself as an old woman. Rather than arouse Avraham's hard feelings towards his wife for speaking of his advanced age, God altered her remarks for the sake of domestic harmony. Similarly, Aharon was permitted to distort the truth when working to resolve disputes, in accordance with this principle.

Herein, Rav Zaks suggests, lies the meaning behind the Torah's emphasis on the fact that Aharon did not deviate from the guidelines concerning the menora. Although he permitted himself a degree of inaccuracy and distortion in one area of activity – the realm of conflict resolution – he did not allow himself such freedom in the area of ritual observance of halakha. Many others would have lacked the sophistication necessary to distinguish between the laws governing one area and those pertaining to a different sphere. But Aharon understood that the latitude granted by Halakha in the area of conflict resolution is restricted to that particular circumstance, and may not be recklessly extended into other areas of religious life. He quite justifiably earned the Torah's acclaim for not deviating one iota from God's instructions with regard to the menora, despite his frequent deviation from the truth when settling conflicts between disputing parties.

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The Rambam, in his Moreh Nevukhim (1:36), discusses the particular severity of idolatry, and notes that the Torah invokes the image of divine anger and rage only in the context of this particular offense. Regarding no other transgression, the Rambam claims, does the Torah describe the arousal of God's fury.

Several scholars have questioned this theory based on the narrative in Parashat Naso telling of the incident of the mit'onenim ("complainers"). The Torah (11:1) writes that God heard the people's complaints and "va-yichar apo" – He became incensed. This formulation appears to directly contradict the Rambam's theory, that descriptions of this nature are reserved for the violation of avoda zara (idolatry).

Malbim addresses this question and notes that the Sifrei indeed comments that we deal here with an incident of idolatry. The Torah here tells that the people's complaints were "ra" – "bad" – in God's ears, and the Sifrei cites a later verse (Devarim 31:29) where the term ra refers specifically to idolatry. The Rambam very likely accepted the Sifrei's reading of the mit'onenim narrative, whereby this unfortunate incident indeed entailed avoda zara. In explaining precisely how idolatry was involved in this tragedy, Malbim cites Abarbanel's approach to the mit'onenim narrative, claiming that the discomfort and hardships of travel led Benei Yisrael to entertain serious doubts about God's power and providence, doubts that amounted to idolatry. Malbim adds that Benei Yisrael likely never expressed these feelings verbally; they simply entertained these thoughts in their minds. This explains why the Torah tells, "The Lord heard, and was incensed," emphasizing that whereas the people assumed no one could read their minds, God in fact "heard" and knew exactly the ideas that began occupying their thoughts. Now Chazal establish that one is generally not held accountable for sinful thoughts, with the exception of thoughts of heresy (and licentiousness). Thus, Chazal concluded that since God punished Benei Yisrael for these "complaints," they must have involved idolatrous thoughts.

In any event, according to this reading, the description of divine rage in this narrative is fully consistent with the Rambam's comments in Moreh Nevukhim.

A similar question regarding the Rambam's theory arises later in the parasha, with regard to the story of Miriam and Aharon, who speak disrespectfully about their brother, Moshe. There, too, the Torah writes, "Va-yichar af Hashem bam" – God responded to their improper talk with rage (12:9). How does this response accommodate the Rambam's theory, that divine "rage" is evoked only through idolatrous worship?

Rav Moshe Leib Shachor, in his Avnei Shoham, suggests that God deems the denigration of a tzadik equivalent to the denigration of the Almighty, and thus warrants the response of charon af (anger). Rav Shachor draws upon a passage in the Sifrei, cited by Rashi in his comments earlier in Parashat Beha'alotekha. The Torah (10:35) tells that when Benei Yisrael would embark, Moshe would utter a prayer asking that all of God's "enemies" and "foes" be dispersed. Rashi comments that these enemies are actually the enemies of Israel, "for whoever despises Yisrael despises the One who spoke and the world came into being." Similarly, Rav Shachor contends, Miriam and Aharon's infringement upon Moshe's honor essentially amounts to a rejection of the Almighty Himself, which perhaps constitutes a form of idolatry.

We might add a slightly different explanation. In our S.A.L.T. series to Parashat Mishpatim, we discussed God's warning that His anger would be aroused in response to the mistreatment of widows and orphans (Shemot 22:23). This, too, appears to disprove the Rambam's theory. (As we discussed, Malbim addresses this question, too, in his commentary to that verse.) We suggested an explanation based on a comment in the Mekhilta De-Rashbi to the effect that God reacts so harshly to the mistreatment of widows and orphans because He assumes the position of their deceased husband/father, as it were. He must therefore defend them and their honor, just as a husband or father protects the interests of his own family. In effect, then, infringing upon the rights of a widow or orphan amounts to a direct insult to God Himself, and in this sense, perhaps, this transgression resembles idolatry and warrants divine wrath. Just as God responds angrily to "personal" affronts to His exclusive stature in the form of idolatry, so does He react with fury to crimes committed against His "family," so-to-speak – the nation's widows and orphans.

Quite possibly, the same applies to Moshe Rabbenu. God sharply condemns Miriam and Aharon for their remarks, and speaks to them of Moshe's unique stature among all prophets – "be-khol beiti ne'eman hu" ("He is most trusted in all My household"). God describes Moshe here as the most loyal member of His bayit – His "household" – and for this reason, perhaps, offending Moshe's honor indeed evokes divine wrath. Just as God reacts angrily to infringements upon His own honor, so is this response elicited by offenses committed against the most "trusted member" of His "household," Moshe Rabbenu.

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Amidst the story of Aharon and Miriam's inappropriately critical remarks about their brother, Moshe, told at the end of Parashat Beha'alotekha, we read God's explicit testimony of Moshe's singular prophetic stature. In responding to their criticism of Moshe, God describes the unique clarity of Moshe's prophetic visions, in contrast with that of other prophets: "When a prophet of the Lord arises among you, I make myself known to him in a vision, I speak with him in a dream. Not so with My servant Moshe… With him I speak mouth to mouth, plainly and not in riddles, and he beholds the likeness of the Lord" (12:6-8).

This translation of the final three words cited – "u-tmunat Hashem yabit" – is not entirely precise. Whereas we (based on the Jewish Publication Society translation) loosely translated this phrase to mean that Moshe could see the "likeness of the Lord," the word temuna generally denotes a picture, a visual representation of the appearance of a given person, place or thing. For example, Moshe admonishes Benei Yisrael in Sefer Devarim (4:25) against making a pesel temunat kol – a statue representing the appearance of any object. How, then, might we explain the term temunat Hashem – the "picture" of God? How does this expression accommodate the fundamental belief in divine incorporeality, that no physical form or image can possibly be ascribed to God?

The Rambam, in his Moreh Nevukhim (1:3), brings this term as one example of many words in Tanakh with multiple meanings. According to the Rambam, the Biblical word temuna is used in three different senses. The first two indeed refer to images of physical entities: the actual shape or form of a given object, or the shape and form of an object in a person's imagination. But in addition to these meanings, the Rambam claims, temuna can also refer to intellectual comprehension. An abstract thought or idea can also be termed a temuna, insofar as it is "seen" or "beheld" by the human mind. In this vein, the Rambam interprets our verse to mean that Moshe could "comprehend the true essence of God." Thus, "temunat Hashem yabit" refers not to Moshe's prophecy, but rather his unsurpassed intellectual capabilities in understanding the Almighty.

It has been suggested (by Rabbi Dr. Refael Binyamin Posen, in his column in last year's edition of Shabbat Be-Shabbato to Parashat Beha'alotekha) that Targum Onkelos accepted this reading of the verse, as well. Onkelos translates the word yabit (literally, "beholds") with the Aramaic word mistakel. Although in modern Hebrew this word indeed means to look upon or behold, Targum Onkelos generally chooses other terms to denote visualization. For example, when God bids Avraham to "look" into the sky and count the stars (Bereishit 15:5), Targum refers to this "looking" with the word "istakhi." In many other instances, Targum makes use of various forms of the Aramaic root ch.z.h. (e.g. Shemot 16:7). Though clearly this contention would require a more comprehensive study, it stands to reason that with the word istakel Onkelos refers not to visualization, but rather intellectual comprehension. If so, then he, like the Rambam, understood this description as referring to Moshe's keen metaphysical understanding of God, rather than to the directness of his prophetic visions.

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In the final section of Parashat Beha'alotekha, the Torah tells that Miriam, Moshe's sister, was stricken with the tzara'at skin infection as punishment for speaking negatively about her brother (chapter 12). Later in the Torah, in Sefer Devarim (24:9), Moshe issues a specific warning urging us to remember this incident, presumably with the goal of avoiding the type of conduct that resulted in Miriam's illness.

The Rambam, in his concluding remarks to Hilkhot Tum'at Tzara'at (16:10), elaborates on the significance of this episode and the precise meaning underlying Moshe's admonition in Sefer Devarim. According to the Rambam, this warning should be taken as follows:

Take note of what happened to Miriam the prophetess, who spoke of her brother than whom she was several years older, and whom she raised on her lap and whom she endangered herself to save from the water, and she did not speak disparagingly of him, but rather mistakenly equated him with other prophets, and he did not concern himself with all these matters, as it says, "The man Moshe was exceedingly humble." And nevertheless, she was immediately punished with tzara'at. All the more so [will this punishment befall] the wicked, foolish people who speak abundantly in "great" and "wondrous" matters.

The Rambam here points to several factors that serve, at first glance, to mitigate the severity of Miriam's wrongdoing. For one thing, she was a number of years older than Moshe, was involved in raising him during infancy, and even saved his life. As such, Moshe, to a considerable extent, was indebted to her. He owed her a degree of respect and gratitude, and this debt expectedly affected the nature of their relationship. We could perhaps excuse Miriam for not looking to Moshe with the esteem and reverence with which he was held by the rest of the nation, given that he owed his very life to her, and she tended to his needs as a small child. Secondly, the Rambam emphasizes, her comments had no emotional effect on her brother. The Torah itself testifies in the context of this episode to Moshe's unsurpassed humility, which the Rambam understands to mean that he was not hurt by Miriam and Aharon's disparaging remarks. And yet, despite these factors, Miriam was severely punished, establishing a precedent that should hopefully discourage future incidents of denigrating talk about others – particularly when the mitigating factors that applied in Miriam's case are not relevant.

The fact that Miriam was stricken with tzara'at despite these two mitigating factors – Moshe's indebtedness to her, and the inconsequence of her remarks – perhaps reveals the nature of this transgression, lashon ha-ra, at least according to the Rambam. Namely, the gravity of lashon ha-ra lies not only in the harm inflicted on the subject, but also, and primarily, on the adverse effects it yields upon the speaker. True, we could excuse Miriam for speaking of Moshe in a more "normal" way than others would, given their relationship, and we could also come to her defense on the grounds that Moshe's humility negated the possibility of the infliction of harm. But all this is beside the point. The Rambam, in this passage, proceeds to describe the degenerative process triggered by habitual gossip and cynicism. He writes that people who customarily sit together to poke fun and make jest of others eventually speak degradingly of scholars, which in turn results in a cynical attitude towards even the prophets. Eventually, this attitude may very well lead to outright heresy, whereby the individual looks frivolously upon the Torah itself and its Giver. Clearly, then, the Rambam assesses the severity of lashon ha-ra in terms of the attitude and outlook it engenders, rather than the particular harm it potentially inflicts upon the subject of the gossip. Accordingly, he emphasizes the gravity of Miriam's misdeed despite the nature of her relationship to Moshe and that her comments had no effect upon him. Since lashon ha-ra affects primarily the speaker, rather than the one spoken of, these factors are of little importance as far as the sin's severity is concerned. One must avoid such speech because it potentially develops within a person the inclination to look upon matters from a disparagingly cynical viewpoint, which precludes the possibility of acknowledging the supreme importance of the meaningful areas of life.