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At the beginning of his Hilkhot Kiddush Ha-chodesh, the Rambam posits the basic principle that the Jewish calendar follows the lunar cycle. Meaning, our year depends not upon the earth's revolution around the sun, but rather upon a series of revolutions by the moon around the sun, each of which marks a month. Thus, whereas a month according to the solar year is simply one-twelfth of the total duration of the year, our calendar defines a month as a single revolution of the moon. The Rambam proves this from a verse in Parashat Pinchas, in the Torah's concluding remarks about the special mussaf offering brought on Rosh Chodesh: "… zot olat chodesh be-chodsho," which literally translates as, "this is the offering of the month, in its month." Generally, this expression is taken to mean, "each month" (as the Ibn Ezra explains). Where in this verse did the Rambam find a source to the dependence of our calendar on the lunar cycle?

Rav Soloveitchik (cited in Nefesh Ha-Rav, p.308) explained that the source to which the Rambam refers appears in the translation of Targum Onkelos on this phrase. Onkelos (and, later, Rabbeinu Yossef Bekhor Shor), translates the word, "be-chodsho" as "be-itchadetuta," or "in its renewal." (The word "chodesh" relates to the word "chadash," new.) In other words, the Torah required this offering each month at the point when the "month" renews itself, a clear reference to the appearance of the new moon. Clearly, then, the Torah defines a month as beginning with each new moon. (See Ibn Ezra, who rejects this explanation for grammatical reasons.)

From here we may wish to proceed to a corresponding phrase that appears several verses earlier, in the context of special mussaf offering of Shabbat: "olat Shabbat be-Shabbato." Obviously, one cannot speak of "renewal" or anything of that nature in this regard. Nevertheless, one might have suggested applying Onkelos' approach here, as well. The word "Shabbat" often means "week," rather than the day of Shabbat, the most prominent example perhaps being the verse in the context of sefirat ha-omer, which refers to the counting of seven "shabbatot" - weeks (Vayikra 23:15). Thus, just as Onkelos explained the verse regarding the Rosh Chodesh offering as, "the month's offering at its renewal," we may understand this phrase as, "the week's offering at its 'shabbat,'" meaning, at its point of cessation ("li-shbot" means to cease, as in Bereishit 2:2). We bring a monthly sacrifice when the month "renews" itself, and we likewise bring a weekly offering when the week comes to a close on Shabbat.

However, Onkelos himself does not translate the verse in this way. Instead, he simply adds the Aramaic word "de-titaveid," or "that will be performed," to yield the following reading: "the Shabbat offering that should be performed on Shabbat." Needless to say, this reading renders the clause somewhat superfluous: obviously a "Shabbat offering" is offered on Shabbat. What does this phrase come to add? The Netziv suggests that according to Onkelos, the Torah saw it necessary to emphasize that we bring this offering on Shabbat despite the fact that bringing a sacrifice entails generally forbidden activity on Shabbat. The verse therefore stresses that nonetheless, we bring the "Shabbat offering" on Shabbat.

We should add that Rashi defines this phrase according to its literal translation, "the Shabbat offering on its Shabbat," and explains that this verse comes to preclude the possibility of offering one Shabbat's mussaf offering on a different Shabbat. Each sacrifice must be brought specifically on "its Shabbat."

*****

Before introducing the various "mussaf" offerings in Parashat Pinchas, the Torah first describes the daily "tamid" offering. Each morning and afternoon, the kohanim offered a burnt-offering upon the altar. Furthermore, in its description of each mussaf offering, the Torah emphasizes that it comes "beyond the tamid offering… " We are reminded that even on days when we are to bring additional, special sacrifices - Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Pesach, etc., the unique offerings do not supplant the tamid. Seven days a week throughout the year, the daily sacrifice made its way onto the altar.

Clearly, the tamid offering represents the theme of consistency. Avodat Hashem cannot be confined to a given time frame; it requires devotion every day throughout the year, be it Yom Kippur, the third of Iyar, Rosh Chodesh Kislev or Yom Ha-atzma'ut.

Interestingly, though, the Torah here throws in a brief historical note regarding the tamid: "A daily offering, that was performed at Mount Sinai… " (28:6). The Gemara in Masekhet Chagiga (6b) cites two views as to the meaning of this verse. The first approach accepts the straightforward reading, that Benei Yisrael actually brought a korban tamid at Mount Sinai. The second view argues, maintaining that the verse here refers to the tamid's having been already mentioned back at Sinai. Either way, and particularly according to the second reading, we must understand the association drawn between Matan Torah and the korban tamid. Why does the Torah make a point of mentioning Sinai in this context?

This reference may serve to address a basic problem with the concept of "tamid," an ongoing, consistent ritual. With time, the performance becomes mere force of habit, bereft of the enthusiasm that ought to accompany religious service. The Torah therefore bids us to bring a little "Mount Sinai" into our daily "tamid" offering. We are called upon to infuse our day-to-day religious observance with an element of Matan Torah, the excitement and fervor with which we originally received the Torah. Just as at Sinai we "saw" and "heard" the Almighty, so must we approach each religious ritual, however routine and habitual, as an encounter with God.

The Torah thus teaches us that one need not stand at the food of Mount Sinai and behold "the Revelation" in order to experience "revelation." God promises that He reveals Himself to us every time we help a friend (or stranger), whenever we open a siddur with sincerity, when we observe Shabbat, and so on. By approaching mitzvot with the correct attitude, that they provide us with the opportunity of serving our Creator, we can transform our "tamid," our day-to-day avodat Hashem, into an experience of Har Sinai.

(Based on an article by Rav Eliezer Simcha Weiss)

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As we have discussed in the last two editions of "S.A.L.T.," the closing section of Parashat Pinchas discusses the "temidin u-mussafin," the daily "tamid" sacrifice as well as the special "mussaf" offerings brought in the Beit Ha-mikdash. Those who counted all the sacrifices included in this list inform us that the offerings reach a grand total of 560. Academic as this may seem, one of the later Rishonim, Rav Meir of Rothenberg, drew an interesting association based on this statistic between these sacrifices and the gifts Yaakov sent to his brother, Esav. Back in Parashat Vayishlach, Yaakov, fearful of the imminent encounter with his hostile brother, presents him with a generous gift consisting of several types of animals, numbering 550 in total. The Maharam Me-Rutenberg writes that the Almighty looked critically upon Yaakov's having resorted to appeasement tactics. God had promised to protect him; he had no need to send Esav 550 animals to ensure his safety. To correct this wrongdoing, his offspring must bring the same number of animals as sacrifices in the Mikdash. The ten offerings brought on Shemini Atzeret do not count towards this total, as they come purely as a gift from Benei Yisrael to God.

We spend a good deal of our lives tending to our basic, physical needs, particularly earning a living. While we are expected to take the initiative in this regard and actively care for ourselves, we must at the same time recognize God's ultimate power over the outcome of our eff. Unfortunately, and perhaps almost invariably, our own handiwork veils the role played by God in our achievements. The "national" korbanot in the Mikdash, as described in our parasha, serve to rectify this problem. They redirect our attention towards God, reinforcing our awareness of His assistance and our dependence on Him. The cycle of korbanot thus correct the problem of our disproportionate focus on human effort and initiative.

Awkward as it may seem to raise this point during the somber period of the "three weeks," this idea of the Maharam Me-Rutenberg enhances our understanding of the intense joy experienced on Shemini Atzeret/Simchat Torah. Throughout Sukkot, we leave the security of our homes and demonstrate our faith and trust in God by residing in flimsy, unstable structures. Having overcome the natural tendency of relying on our own efforts, on Shemini Atzeret we can truly celebrate our unique relationship with God. We have no more need for expiation for our failure to recognize His ongoing assistance. We bring sacrifices not for atonement but as an expression of love, as we celebrate the special closeness we reach as the festival season reaches its peak.

May these "three weeks" soon be transformed into a period of joy and celebration, in which we can celebrate our special bond with our Creator, rather than mourning the tragic loss of that relationship.

*****

In Parashat Pinchas we read of Moshe's request that the Almighty name his successor. Rashi, citing the Midrash, comments that Moshe here actually petitions God to appoint his own sons as leaders for the new generation. God responds that Moshe's loyal student, Yehoshua, has earned the distinction of succeeding him.

The Chatam Sofer (O.C. 12) notes that Moshe's request indicates that his sons indeed qualified for the formidable task of leader. Clearly, Moshe would not have asked for his sons to succeed him if they lacked the necessary standard of competence. Nevertheless, God selected the more qualified candidate, Yehoshua, as Moshe's successor.

From here the Chatam Sofer arrives at an important halakhic ruling: rabbinic leadership does not pass from father to son in the form of inheritance. Therefore, the son of a deceased rabbi does not automatically assume his father's position without the consent of the congregation. This ruling seems to oppose the view of the Rashba (Shut Ha-Rashba, 1:300), who ruled that the son of a deceased spiritual leader takes precedence over anyone else in consideration for the position. The Maharam Shick (Y.D. 228) accepts the Chatam Sofer's view as authoritative.

Several other poskim, however, dispute the Chatam Sofer's ruling and refute the proof from the aforementioned comments of Rashi. Rav Shraga Feivel Taubes (late 19^th century; Shut Ori Ve-yish'i 97) and others argue that Moshe did not actually request that his sons succeed him. He rather wished for them to assume the political leadership, with the understanding that someone else would succeed Moshe as the supreme religious figure and authority. Therefore, we cannot derive any conclusions from this request to the issue at hand, of a son's automatic right to his father's rabbinical post. The Pardes Yosef He-chadash questions the validity of this refutation in light of the Midrash's account of the Almighty's response to Moshe, in which He points to Yehoshua's diligent Torah study as the basis for his selection over Moshe's children. If at stake was merely the political leadership, why would Yehoshua's Torah scholarship render him the best candidate?

In any event, Rav Taubes adds another refutation, one which touches upon an interesting issue related to the methodology of "pesak" (halakhic decision-making). He cites the Tosafot Yom Tov (Berakhot, 4) as asserting that one cannot reach halakhic conclusions based on Midrashim. Therefore, the Midrash's account of Moshe's request cannot be used as a basis for denying the inheritance of religious leadership.

In conclusion, we should note that the Chatam Sofer himself, in his work on the Chumash ("Torat Moshe"), cites Rashi's comment from the Midrash and then suggests an approach contrary to that of the Midrash. Moshe knew that a position of leadership naturally passes from father to son. He also knew, however, that his sons did not deserve to inherit his post. He therefore decided to officially "resign from office" before his death, so that the laws of inheritance would not take effect. The most worthy candidate for successor, rather than his own sons, would then assume the position. (This does not contradict the Chatam Sofer's ruling quoted earlier, for two reasons. First, here he advances an approach contrary to that of the Midrash; when he comes to reach a halakhic decision, he defers to the Midrash's understanding and works within that approach. Secondly, here, in his commentary on the verse, the Chatam Sofer specifically speaks of Moshe's position as king, a status that unquestionably passes through inheritance. This has no bearing on the bequeathing of his religious leadership.)

In light of the Chatam Sofer's comments, it becomes clear that this entire halakhic discussion applies only to a rabbi who dies while still holding his position; only then can, according to most poskim, his position naturally transfer to his son through the process of inheritance. If, however, a rabbi retires, there appears to be no basis to argue for his son's automatic assumption of his post.

*****

As we read in Parashat Pinchas, Moshe turns to the Almighty and asks that He appoint a successor as leader of the nation. In so doing, Moshe refers to God as, "Elokei ha-ruchot le-khol bassar," which literally translates as, "the Lord of spirits for every flesh." Rashi explains that Moshe here alludes to God's ability to recognize the unique needs and demands of each individual. He thus asks that the Almighty name a leader with similar sensitivity and patience to deal with the different needs of his constituents, someone "who will tolerate each individual according to his own character."

We can perhaps better appreciate Moshe's request in light of a beautiful story about Moshe's own credentials, as recorded in the Midrash (Shemot Rabba 2:2). Once, as the future prophet tended his father-in-law's flocks in the wilderness, a young goat ran away and did not stop until it arrived at a certain green area, where it came across a pool of water. The kid promptly bent down and drank. When Moshe caught up, he said, "I did not know that you ran away because you were thirsty! You are tired!" Moshe then lifted the kid onto his shoulders and brought it back to the pasture. The Midrash then records the Almighty's reaction: "You have compassion when dealing with the sheep of human beings - I swear that you will tend to My flock, Yisrael!"

The Midrash here lauds Moshe's remarkable devotion and sense of responsibility, to the point where he went through any trouble necessary for the care of even a single sheep under his charge. However, the Midrash includes a brief subplot of sorts, the goat's having needed a drink of water. Moshe took particular note of its having been thirsty, an observation that the Midrash considers worthy of emphasis. This perhaps teaches us an important lesson about leadership, further enhancing our appreciation of the qualities Moshe looked for in his successor. Moshe wanted a leader who was sensitive to the particular needs of different people by understanding the reasons behind these needs. Only someone who can look beneath the surface and appreciate the causes of people's tendencies, idiosyncrasies, and even complaints can show the sensitivity needed to care for them.

Unfortunately, we often judge others based solely on our own feelings, attitudes, experiences and personalities. We fail to realize that what works for one person simply doesn't for someone else. One cannot expect of others precisely what he expects of himself, for no two people are exactly alike. Although only the Almighty is truly "the Lord of spirits for every flesh," only He has total access to the inner workings of every p, we nevertheless can and must try to break the barriers between ourselves and others, and appreciate the distinctive needs of every individual.

(Based on an article by Rav Chayim Druckman)

*****

Parashat Pinchas tells of the initiation of "semikha" - the formal transition of halakhic authority from one leader to the next. Moshe placed his hands on Yehoshua's head, naming him his successor (27:23). This process continued through the times of the Amoraim, until the year 4298 (538 C.E. - see Sanhedrin 14a; Ketubot 17a). The ramifications of semikha relate to the possibility of administering punishments to violators as the Torah prescribes. Only a rabbinical court with formal semikha can administer these fines and punishments. (The "semikha" granted today to graduates of rabbinical seminaries is primarily symbolic - though perhaps with some halakhic significance - and bears no connection to the formal, halakhic semikha that began with Moshe Rabbeinu's assigning Yehoshua as successor.) Exactly one thousand years after the discontinuation of semikha, in 5298 (1538), a major controversy erupted here in Eretz Yisrael surrounding the possibility of reinstating it. In a very famous ruling, the Rambam (Hilkhot Sanhedrin 4:11; Peirush Ha-mishnayot, beginning of Sanhedrin) ruled that if "all the scholars of Eretz Yisrael" agreed to appoint rabbinical judges and grant them the official power of semikha, they have the authority to do so. In the years following the Spanish Inquisition, ex-Marranoes, who had outwardly taken on Christianity rather than giving their lives, relocated in Eretz Yisrael and sought expiation for their "conversion" out of the faith. As they were liable for the punishment of "karet" (eternal excommunication), they needed a court authorized to administer "malkot" (lashes), which absolves a sinner from "karet" (see Makkot 23a).

And so, the twenty-five leading rabbis of Tzefat, the center of Jewish life in Eretz Yisrael at the time, convened and unanimously, as Rav Yaakov Beirav records, accepted the Rambam's ruling. Rav Yaakov, known as the Mahar"i Beirav, was formally granted the reinstated semikha. He proceeded to confer the status upon four of his students, including Rav Yossef Karo, author of the Shulchan Arukh.

The community of Jerusalem, however, vehemently opposed the reinstating of the semikha. The city's rabbi, Rav Levi Ben Chaviv, composed an entire work in which he disputed the validity of the renewed semikha. He raised several halakhic objections. First, the Rambam, in his presentation of this ruling, concludes, "but the matter requires a decision," pointing to a degree of ambivalence on his part. Additionally, the Rambam's ruling requires unanimous consent on the part of all of Eretz Yisrael's rabbis. Therefore, the rabbis of Tzefat had no authority to reinstate the semikha without the approval of the rabbis of Yerushalayim, even if they constitute the minority. What more, the verse specifically states, "For from Zion shall come forth Torah, and the Word of God from Jerusalem." Clearly, then, the Jerusalem rabbis could not be given a back seat behind the scholars in Tzefat. Rav Levi Ben Chaviv also expressed concern over the possibility of the semikha leading to the reintroduction of "kiddush al pi re'iya," the determination of months based on the sighting of the new moon. This move, Rav Levi feared, would perhaps result in the annulment of the second day of Yom Tov observed in the Diaspora, a custom that Rav Levi felt no halakhic body could have the authority to eliminate. (Recall that the second day of Yom Tov began during the times when the High Court in Jerusalem determined the months based on the sighting of the new moon. Distant communities often did not find out which day had been declared Rosh Chodesh until after Yom Tov, and thus observed two days to be safe. In commemoration, Diaspora communities ever since continue to observe the extra day, despite the establishment of a fixed calendar that eliminated any confusion.)

The Mahari Beirav responded to all of Rav Levi's arguments. As for the Rambam's hesitation, the Mahari explained that this clause modified not the basic halakha, of the possible renewal of the semikha, but rather to the final detail mentioned in this context, that two others could join one with semika to form an authoritative court. The Mahari also rejected the need to include to rabbis of Jerusalem in the process, pointing to the principle of "rubo ke-kulo" (the majority is tantamount to the entirety) as authorizing the majority of sages to reinstate the semikha. Rav Levi Ben Chaviv had argued that this principle would work only if all the rabbis had convened and voted on the matter. As for the concern of reinstating "kiddush ha-chodesh," the Mahari clarified that he had no intention whatsoever of extending the authority granted by the semikha to such an extent.

In any event, the semikha lasted for about a century, ending with Rav Chayim Vital, who had received semikha from Rav Moshe Alshikh, himself having received it from Rav Yossef Karo.

*****

As discussed earlier this week, Parashat Pinchas outlines the system of "temidin u-musafin," the daily sacrifices and the mussaf offerings brought on special occasions. In what sequence are these sacrifices offered? Consider, for example, Rosh Hashana that falls on Shabbat. This day requires the daily tamid offering and special mussaf offerings for Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh and Rosh Hashana. How are all these arranged? The mishnayot at the beginning of the tenth chapter of Zevachim establish the well-known principle of "tadir ve-she'eino tadir, tadit kodem." Meaning, precedence is afforded to the most frequent mitzva. Therefore, the sacrifices on Shabbat Rosh Hashana would follow this sequence: tamid, Shabbat mussaf, Rosh Chodesh mussaf, Rosh Hashana mussaf. The Gemara derives this principle from a verse appearing in our parasha at the conclusion of its discussion of the Pesach mussaf offering: "[This offering is] besides the morning offering, that is part of the daily offering… " The Gemara understands this to mean that the mussaf comes "besides the morning offering" which had already been brought prior to the mussaf. The verse then adds the clause, "that is part of the daily offering" to explain that the precedence afforded to the morning tamid is due to its frequency, as it is performed daily. Thus, we see that the more frequent sacrifices take precedence.

As we know, this principle applies in all areas of halakha when two mitzvot "compete." For example, we put on a tallit before tefillin, since the mitzva of tzitzit applies everyday throughout the year, while tefillin is worn only on weekdays. However, as the "Ar'a De-rabbanan" (643) notes, this halakha is only "le-chatekhila." Meaning, if one mistakenly performed the less frequent mitzva first, he has nevertheless fulfilled both mitzvot and need not repeat either of them.

The Shulchan Arukh (O.C. 286:4) rules that if one did not recite the mussaf prayer (on Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh or Yom Tov) before the time from which one may recite mincha (a half-hour after "chatzot"), one must recite mincha before mussaf. Since mincha is recited each day, whereas we recite mussaf only on certain (albeit not infrequent) occasions, mincha takes precedence. This halakha may become relevant in some synagogues which begin services late on Shabbat morning. At times, shacharit and Torah reading (and perhaps the rabbi's sermon) may extend beyond this point, in which case mincha should be recited before mussaf.

The Sha'agat Aryeh (19) raises a very interesting question relevant to this halakha: what happens if one had recited neither mussaf nor mincha until a couple of minutes before sunset? He has enough time for only one of the two prayers; which one should he recite? On the one hand, the principle of "tadir ve-sh'eino tadir" suggests giving preference to the more frequent mincha service. On the other hand, one who inadvertently (or due to circumstances beyond his control) neglects to recite mincha has the opportunity to make up the missed prayer (by addanother shemoneh esrei) after arvit. No such provision exists with regard to mussaf; one who misses mussaf has no possibility of adding an extra prayer in the following service. Therefore, perhaps he should recite mussaf and then add a shemoneh esrei after arvit for the missed mincha.

The Sha'agat Aryeh decides upon the second option, that one should preferably recite mussaf in this case, since he has the possibility of making up the missed mincha service. One could easily question this line of reasoning, however, and argue that the possibility of making up a missed prayer should have no impact upon the immediate decision of preference. The halakhot of "tashlumin" (making up missed prayers) govern one's conduct upon missing a given tefila; it would seem that they should not have any effect on one's actions before the time-frame for the tefila has ended. Once the halakha requires that a more frequent prayer precedes the less frequent one, the future repercussions of this sequence - the inability to recite or even make up mussaf - should not be taken into consideration.

Needless to say, one should try not to enter into such a situation, and, if he does, he should quickly (before sunset) consult a competent halakhic authority.

(Today's and yesterday's S.A.L.T'S were taken from Rabbi Matis Blum's "Torah La-Da'at," vol.2.)

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This shiur is provided courtesy of the Virtual Beit Midrash, the premier source of online courses on Torah and Judaism - 14 different courses on all levels, for all backgrounds.

MakeJewish learning partof your week on a regular basis - enroll in the
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(c) YeshivHar EtzioAll rights reserved to Yeshivat Har Etzion

Yeshivat Har Et
Alon Shvut, Israel, 90433
office@etzion.org.il