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The Torah's description in Parashat Pinchas of the formal appointment of Yehoshua as Moshe's successor, is immediately followed by the discussion of the temidin u-mussafin - the daily offerings and the additional mussaf sacrifices brought on Shabbat and the festivals. What connection exists between these sacrifices and Yehoshua's appointment?

Rashi refers us to a passage in the Sifrei which explains this connection. Yehoshua's appointment came in response to Moshe's appeal that God assign a successor to ensure that after his death, Benei Yisrael will not be left "like sheep without a shepherd" (27:17). The Sifrei explains that after granting Moshe's request, God now addresses the general point of Moshe instructing God with regard to Am Yisrael: "Before you instruct Me concerning My children, instruct them concerning Me." God tells Moshe to warn Benei Yisrael not to rebel against God or exchange Him for other so-called gods. This admonition came in the form of the section dealing with the tamid and mussaf offerings. How do these laws constitute a warning against idolatrous worship?

The Netziv, in his Eimek ha-Netziv on the Sifrei (though many of the ideas expressed there appear in his He'amek Davar, as well), discusses at length the specific function of korbanot in ensuring Benei Yisrael's parnasa (livelihood). He cites several comments of Chazal indicating that the sacrifices bring God's material blessing upon the nation by which they are granted a sufficient supply of food and basic necessities. Though he does not say so explicitly, the Netziv strongly implies that we must understand the Sifrei in this light. By offering korbanot, Benei Yisrael demonstrate their conviction that their sustenance depends on the Almighty. Rather than hanging their hopes on other forces - be it idolatrous forces or other, natural means, Benei Yisrael must attribute their material success to the Almighty alone. The Netziv claims that when Moshe requested a leader to ensure that Benei Yisrael will not resemble "a sheep without a shepherd," he expressed concern specifically for Benei Yisrael's material needs. Throughout his tenure, Moshe himself, through his singular, prophetic stature, could ensure Benei Yisrael's sustenance through supernatural means. He now asks God to appoint a successor who can provide the people with similar material security. The Almighty grants this request, but reminds Moshe that Benei Yisrael must do their part, as well. He must therefore teach them the laws of the korbanot, which emphasize our sense of dependence on God and recognition that He alone holds the key to material success and prosperity.

The juxtaposition between these two topics, then, teaches the important lesson of how we relate to material pursuits. On the one hand, God acknowledges the role of the political leadership in maintaining economic stability and doing what it can to ensure the prosperity of its constituency. At the same time, our eyes must always turn to Him for assistance, and acknowledge His exclusive power over wealth and poverty.

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Yesterday we studied the Sifrei's explanation for why the Torah, in Parashat Pinchas, juxtaposes the story of Yehoshua's appointment as Moshe's successor with the section describing the tamid (daily sacrifice) and korbanot mussaf (additional offerings on special occasions). Moshe had asked the Almighty to look after Benei Yisrael and appoint a capable successor; God grants this request but then tells Moshe to warn Benei Yisrael not to "exchange My honor with foreign deities." He is to issue this warning in the form of the halakhot of the tamid and mussaf. Wherein lies the connection between idolatry and the sacrifices discussed in this parasha? Yesterday we saw the Netziv's approach; today we present a different explanation, suggested by the Malbim.

The Malbim cites a comment by the Gemara in Masekhet Tamid (31b; mentioned also in Rashi, 28:3) regarding the halakha concerning the location where the daily tamid offering was slaughtered. As the mishna there states, the morning tamid was slaughtered on the northwest corner of the altar, whereas the afternoon tamid was slaughtered on the southeastern corner. The Gemara derives from a verse in Parashat Pinchas ("shenayim la-yom" - 28:3) that the tamid must be slaughtered "ke-negged ha-yom," opposite the sun (to the west in the morning, to the east in the evening). The Malbim explains that ancient idolaters customarily worshipped the sun by suand sunset. We counter this pagan ritualby bringing sacrifices to the true God at these same times but specifically opposite the sun, showing that we take no part in the worship of the celestial beings. Therefore, the section of the tamid indeed conveys to Benei Yisrael the message that they must not exchange the Almighty for pagan deities.

Rav Zalman Sorotzkin zt"l, in his Oznayim le-Torah, elaborates further on this approach of the Malbim. He begins by citing several indications that, indeed, the sun seemed to have been the primary focus of ancient paganism. He cites, for example, Moshe's admonition in Sefer Devarim: "Lest you look up to the sky and behold the sun, the moon and the stars… and be lured into bowing down to them or serving them" (Devarim 4:19). The fact that the verse lists the sun before the other heavenly bodies suggests that Moshe's primary concern involved the worship of the sun. Even more compelling is the Gemara in Masekhet Berakhot 7a, which records that at sunrise, all kings in the world would remove their crowns and bow to the sun.

Rav Sorotzkin explains that obviously, we cannot take this Gemara at face value; after all, there were innumerable forms of idolatry, and every nation and sect worshipped their own deity. Rather, Chazal understood that the sun, in effect, represented the source of paganism. The pagans denied the possibility that the supreme God - in whom they in fact believed - actually concerned Himself with the day-to-day affairs here on earth. They assumed, therefore, that there existed a hierarchy of divine power, whereby God delegates control to the major natural forces, which would then delegate powers to lower forces, as so on. The sun was looked upon as the greatest and most powerful of the natural forces. Therefore, all different forms of paganism ultimately evolved from the worship of the sun, which was seen as the most powerful "god" among the physical forces on earth. It granted control to the lower gods, and hence all pagans, in one sense or another, worshipped the sun.

The sun, therefore, represents the fundamental flaw of idolatry, which attributes divine power - if only subordinate divine power - to the natural forces. It represents the first stage of the pagan belief, that God delegates powers to forces of nature.

Interestingly, Rav Sorotzkin adds that for this very reason all the korbanot had to be offered specifically by day. Since, as the Rambam famously argued, the sacrificial order is intended to negate the pagan beliefs and rituals, it took place specifically during daylight, to oppose the belief in the supernatural powers of the sun.

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Over the last two days we have discussed the Torah's introduction of the laws of the temidin (daily sacrifices) and musafin (additional sacrifices brought on Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh and festivals) in Parashat Pinchas. Beyond the issue of these laws' conceptual relationship to the preceding story, of Yehoshua's installation, as we have discussed the last two days, a somewhat more basic question arises concerning specifically the korban tamid. Why does the Torah need to describe the daily offering here in the first place? After all, it had already been presented much earlier, in Parashat Tetzaveh (Shemot 29:38-42). The tamid section in Parashat Pinchas (Bemidbar 28:1-8) appears to merely repeat the verses in Shemot, in some instances almost verbatim, adding only the requirement of the m(flour-offerings) and nesakhim (wine libations) that accompany the tamid. But why must the Torah repeat the obligation concerning the tamid offering?

Rashi, commenting on 28:4, claims that the commandment in Parashat Tetzaveh referred only to the seven-day "miluim," or consecration of the Mishkan. The requirement mentioned there in Sefer Shemot to offer two tamid offerings daily applied only for one week, when Benei Yisrael formally consecrated the Mishkan and the kohanim. The Torah must therefore introduce here the eternally binding obligation to offer the daily sacrifices in the Temple. Rashi of course assumes that no obligation of temidin applied throughout Benei Yisrael's wandering through the wilderness.

The Ramban objects to Rashi's approach in light of the fact that in its discussion of the tamid in Sefer Shemot, the Torah describes it as an "olat tamid le-doroteikhem" - "a daily burnt-offering for all your generations." This clearly implies that even in Parashat Tetzaveh, the Torah speaks of an eternal obligation, rather than a temporary, week-long ritual. The Ramban therefore takes a different approach. He contends that although the daily tamid offerings were indeed brought throughout the forty years in the wilderness, the special mussaf offerings were not. This discussion in Parashat Pinchas was thus necessary to introduce the halakhot of the mussafin. The Torah includes the tamid in this discussion simply for organization purposes, so that all the standard sacrifices be presented together.

The Netziv, in his He'amek Davar, takes a third position. If and when these offerings was brought in the wilderness, they differed fundamentally from the same offerings brought once Benei Yisrael entered the land. As we discussed two days ago, the Netziv viewed the role of the standard korbanot as earning Benei Yisrael divine assistance with regard to parnasa - sustenance and livelihood. Clearly, there was no need for this in the wilderness, when Benei Yisrael lived a supernatural existence with all their material needs cared for by miraculous means. However, as implied in Parashat Tetazveh (see especially 29:42-43), the tamid was necessary for a different reason: it was required in order for the Shekhina to descend upon the Mishkan and speak to Moshe. The constant order of sacrifices allowed for the Shekhina to dwell in the Mishkan, where Moshe engaged in direct communion with the Almighty. In the wake of the incident of the spies, however, God did not communicate with Moshe directly as He had done earlier, until the generation of the spies perished (see, for example, Rashi to Devarim 2:17). Therefore, the Netziv argues, the tamid was not necessary during those thirty-eight years. Now, as Benei Yisrael prepare for entry into the land, where they will be sustained by natural means, by tilling the land and engaging in commerce and trade, they need the divine blessing bestowed as a result of the korbanot. God therefore finds it necessary at this point to remind them of the standard order of sacrifices - the daily tamid offering, and the special mussaf offerings.

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This week we have been discussing the section in Parashat Pinchas dealing with the standard order of sacrifices brought in the Temple - the temidin and the musafin. The tamid, which literally means, "constant," was, as its name suggests, offered daily. The term "musaf" means "additional." Indeed, on special occasions - Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh, and Yom Tov, special "additional" sacrifices were required beyond the regular tamid offering.

Why should special occasions require more sacrifices? What does this imply concerning the nature and function of these occasions?

These special occasions, particularly Shabbat and Yom Tov, offer a lot to the Jew. For one thing, these are times of physical comfort, not only encouraged but even required by halakha. On the most basic level, Shabbat and festivals guarantee the Jew vacation time; they force him to close his shop on a regular basis, relax, enjoy food, rest, family and friends, and rejuvenate himself physically and mentally for the workweek ahead. Moreover, and perhaps primarily, a Jew gains spiritually from Shabbat and Yom Tov, as these occasions must be characterized by more intensive prayer, Torah study, and religious song (zemirot).

The institution of the musaf offerings perhaps remind us that all this that we stand to gain on Shabbat and Yom Tov cannot come without sacrifice. The Ramban is famous for his symbolic approach to the sacrifices, that one must see himself as having sacrificed himself rather than the animal. We thus add sacrifices on Shabbat and Yom Tov specifically because we hso much to gain on Shabbat and Yom Tov - but we can do so only by exerting effort and vigoroupursuing the spiritual goals of these special occasions. Anyone who thinks he can achieve kedusha on Shabbat and Yom Tov simply by eating and enjoying his family's company is mistaken; he must make the effort to turn these occasions into spiritually meaningful and productive times.

In today's world, people constantly seek quick solutions to problems and the simplest ways to earn the greatest profit. This tendency has, unfortunately, left it mark on contemporary religious life, as well. Many people today try different shortcuts to spirituality, rather than traditional, grueling process of intensive study and dedicated, self-effacing introspection. The synagogue has become a place where people come to feel comfortable and relaxed (not to mention to socialize), rather than to serve God with one's heart, the halakhic definition of prayer. In the absence of the Temple, we do not actually offer the musaf sacrifice, but we do commemorate this offering through the musaf prayer. Hopefully, this service will remind us that the spiritual treasures offered by the Torah never come easy. We must be willing to work, and to work hard.

(Based on a dvar Torah by Rabbi Berel Wein)

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Over the last few days we have focused our attention on the final section of Parashat Pinchas, which deals with the daily "tamid" sacrifice and the additional "musaf" sacrifices offered in the Temple. Today we will discuss the following passage from Masekhet Berakhot 10b: "Whoever hosts a Torah scholar and allows him to benefit from his [the host's] possessions, is considered by the verse as if he offered the temidin [daily sacrifices]." How are we to understand this passage in the Gemara? Wherein lies the connection between supporting a Torah scholar and offering the daily sacrifices?
The Maharsha there explains that in both situations, the individual brings food, as it were, to the Almighty. By bringing a Torah scholar to one's table, he effectively transforms his table into a mizbei'ach (altar). Thus, the food served may be likened to sacrifices, an offering to God.

The Maharsha does not, however, explain why the Gemara chooses specifically the tamid offering over all the other sacrifices brought upon the altar for this analogy. In fact, it would appear, at first glance, that private offerings, rather than the daily tamid sacrifices purchased with public funds, would have better suited the context. If, as the Maharsha contends, the Gemara seeks to compare the food given to a scholar with the meat place on the altar, then it should have referred to a case when an individual himself offers a personal sacrifice to God.

We may perhaps suggest, therefore, that the Gemara here points to a different element. What value is there, one could argue, in supporting the Torah learning of another? Could it be that one is rewarded for allowing others to study, even if he himself does not? The Gemara therefore finds a precedent for such an arrangement: the public sacrifices, represented by the most common and frequent of such sacrifices - the korban tamid. The animals used for these offerings are purchased with the funds of the "terumat ha-lishka," the money collected from the annual half-shekel tax. In this way, all of Benei Yisrael took part in this mitzva. It is worth noting that in Parashat Pinchas, God orders Benei Yisrael to "ensure" to offer these sacrifices ("tishmeru le-hakriv libe-mo'ado"). Though only the kohanim, of course, actually offer the sacrifices, all of Benei Yisrael bear collective responsibility in this regard.

These korbanot, then, reflect this notion of supporting "avoda," facilitating the service of God through one's resources. If, indeed, all of Benei Yisrael are considered as having offered the daily tamid, simply by virtue of their having taken part in its funding, then likewise one shares in the mitzva of Torah study by allowing others to do so.

That said, we should perhaps takes this Torah-korbanot analogy one step further to highlight the opposite side of the same coin. Whereas Benei Yisrael do not actively participate in the tamid offering, and instead provide the funds, the Torah does obligate every individual to bring personal sacrifices, as well. On the festivals and at other points throughout one's life, various situations arise requiring one to personally bring his own individual offering to the Bet ha-Mikdash. Similarly, though one can participate in the mitzva of Torah study simply by supporting the learning of others, every individual must personally engage in this great mitzva, as well. Through the tamid offering, the constant immersion in Torah study, is reserved for the select few, every Jew bears a personal responsibility to bring his own "offerings" of Torah learning, as well.

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Parashat Pinchas begins with God's promise of reward to Pinchas for his having zealously avenged God's honor by slaying Zimri and Kozbi while they publicly desecrated God's Name. As Rashi and others explain, Pinchas, due to a technicality, had not previously earned the status of kehuna for either himself or his offspring. His heroism in this incident rendered him worthy of the kehuna. God refers to this promise as "beriti shalom" - My covenant of peace.

A tradition dating back to Chazal has it that the letter "vav" in the word, "shalom" (peace) in this verse is split in the middle. Indeed, this is how the letter appears in our Sifrei Torah to this very day. In Masekhet Kiddushin (66b), Chazal derive from this peculiarity a halakha concerning a kohen's service in the Temple. Earlier, in Parashat Emor (Vayikra 21:23), the Torah disqualified a kohen with some physical defect (the Torah there outlines the specific defects to which this applies) from performing the Temple service. Furthermore, it invalidated the korban to which such a kohen tended ("ve-lo yechalelu et mikdashai"). The Gemara derives an extension of this law based on our verse. The split vav alludes to the fact that we must read the word as if the "vav" is not actually there. The resultant word, of course, is "shalem," which means whole, or complete. Meaning, the kohen must be physically "complete," or free of blemish, in order to qualify for the service in the Temple. As the Torah had already stipulated this provision, this verse must add a further application thereof. The Gemara claims that it refers specifically to a case where a kohen with a blemish (called a "ba'al mum") performed the service without realizing that he in fact had such a blemish. Nevertheless, based on this verse, we cannot accept as valid the service he performed before discovering his status as a "ba'al mum." Rather, all his service is retroactively invalidated in light of the discovery of his physical defect.

The halakha in this case, of the kohen who discovers his defect after performing the service, contrasts with a slightly different case discussed there in the Gemara. Based on the immediately following verse (Bemidbar 25:13; some views derive this from different verses), the Gemara arrives at a lenient ruling in a case where the kohen discovered not a physical blemish, but a genetic disqualification. Namely, if a kohen, after performing the avoda (Temple service), learns that he is the result of a marriage forbidden to a kohen, such as if his mother had been divorced before marrying his father, in which case he himself is disqualified from performing the service, then whatever service he performed until now is nevertheless valid. We do not retroactively invalidate his service based on the new knowledge. (Needless to say, however, from the moment of this discovery on we do not permit him to perform the service.)

The Ramban, however, in his "chiddushim" to Masekhet Kiddushin, imposes a significant qualification on this second provision. He claims that, contrary to the straightforward reading of the Gemara, if it is definitively determined that this kohen indeed resulted from a forbidden marriage, we do not validate the korban to which he tended. The Gemara accepted havoda as valid only if a question arose regarding his parents' marriage, such as if he was orphaned at a young age and questions now arise as to whis mother had been previously married and divorced before marrying his father. Only in this situation can we consider his avoda valid, despite the question that has arisen concerning his status. If, however, it has been established conclusively that he is the result of such a marriage, we must retroactively invalidate any avoda he performed.

Other Rishonim, however, argue on this position of the Ramban.

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