The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

Parashat Matot tells of Benei Yisrael's successful war against Midyan. After the battle, the Torah records that the generals came forth to Moshe with an offering to God from the spoils of war. They explain the need for such an offering as follows: "Your servants [i.e. the generals themselves] have made a check of the warriors in our charge, and not one of us is missing. So we have brought as an offering to the Lord - such articles of gold as each of us came upon… that expiation be made for our persons before the Lord" (31:49-50). For what transgression do the generals and their troops require expiation?

The commentators offer several different explanations. Rashi adopts the interpretation of Chazal in Masekhet Shabbat 64a, that the warriors required expiation for "hirhur ha-lev," inappropriate thoughts concerning the Midyanite women during battle. Interestingly, however, Rashi does not adopt in his commentary Chazal's explanation of the earlier clause, "and not one of us is missing." Chazal explain that the generals here refer to their soldiers' having refrained from any sexual misconduct during warfare. Not one soldier transgressed in this regard, and thus the sin of Ba'al Pe'or, in direct response to which this battle was waged, was not repeated. Rashi accepts the literal meaning, as explained in Targum Onkelos, that not one soldier was killed in battle. Thus, according to Rashi, the generals' first comment - that no one was killed in battle - bears no relevance to the offering they bring for expiation. According to the Gemara's approach, however, the first verse introduces the second: the generals explain to Moshe that although no soldiers committed an actual sexual offense, they must nevertheless bring an offering to atone for their improper thoughts.

The Ramban explains differently. That not a single soldier fell in combat constituted a great miracle. The "expiation" of which the generals here speak refers not to atonement for a sin, but rather a redemption of sorts. Warfare normally results in casualties. As here no soldiers fell, the generals felt obliged to "redeem" the lives that, without special divine intervention, would have been lost. Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor appears to follow this interpretation, as well.

A third approach is cited by the Rashbam in the name of his father, Rabbenu Meir, and adopted as well by the Chizkuni. As the Torah implies towards the beginning of Parashat Ki-Tisa (see Shemot 30:12 and Rashi there), taking a direct headcount invokes an "ayin ha-ra" and could potentially result in a plague. The Torah therefore requires using the "machatzit ha-shekel" tax when conducting a census of Benei Yisrael. The generals, however, as they report, took a direct headcount of their soldiers after the battle, thus giving rise to the dangerous prospect of a plague. They therefore brought this offering as an atonement in order to protect the men from any disastrous results of the headcount.

*****

In Parashat Matot we read of Benei Yisrael's war against Midyan to avenge their plot of seduction which led to the death of 24,000 people among Benei Yisrael. Upon the warriors' return back to the camp with the booty of Midyan, Elazar, the kohen gadol, outlines the procedures of "kashering." In order for a Jew to use a cooking utensil that had been used with non-kosher food, he must first purge it such that any taste of the non-kosher food is extracted from the walls of the utensil. These laws are based on the fundamental principle of "ta'a'm ke-ikar," that halakha equates the taste of forbidden food with the food itself. Just as one may not eat foods forbidden by the Torah, so may he not eat kosher food that has absorbed the taste of non-kosher food through its having been cooked in a pot that had been previously used for non-kosher food. These pots must therefore be "kashered."

The Ramban (31:23) asks why Elazar waits until this point to introduce these laws. After all, this is not the first time since Matan Torah that Benei Yisrael have waged a successful battle and looted enemy property. The end of Parashat Chukat describes Benei Yisrael's capture of the lands of Sichon and Og, and in Parashat Devarim, Moshe states explicitly that they looted these nations' possessions (Devarim 2:35, 3:7). Why, then, was there no need after that battle for Benei Yisrael to study or review the laws of "ta'am ke-ikar" and "kashering"?

The Ramban answers that unlike the war against Midyan, whose stated goal was avenging the disaster of Ba'al Pe'or instigated by the Midyanim, the campaign against Sichon and Og marked the first stage of the conquest of Canaan. Since Sichon and Og were Emorites, who are included as one of the seven nations of Canaan, Benei Yisrael's conquest of the Land of Canaan included their territory, as well. As the Ramban notes, special permission was granted to use the non-kosher utensils taken during battle against the Canaanite nations (Chulin 17a). Therefore, the spoils taken from the lands of Sichon and Og did not require kashering, and Elazar thus had no need to introduce these laws until our parasha, after the battle with Midyan.

A much different answer was suggested many years later by the Kotzker Rebbe. The Kotzker finds a particular, conceptual relationship between the principle of "ta'am ke-ikar" and this battle against Midyan. The women sent by Midyan to seduce Benei Yisrael to promiscuity and idolatry were successful on two levels. First, and most obviously, they indeed lured many men, resulting in the divine plague that killed 24,000 people. But even those who were not led astray were affected on the level of "hirhur ha-lev"; they lost their purity of mind and thought. (Recall from yesterday that this aspect, according to Chazal's approach, prompted the generals to bring a special expiation offering, to atone for "hirhur ha-lev.") The Rebbe of Kotzk suggests that the principle of "ta'am ke-ikar" symbolizes the Torah's perspective on improper thought. After all, one may argue, why would it matter what's in a person's mind? So long as he refrains from any sinful action, what difference does it make what he thinks? The answer, the Kotzker Rebbe explains, is found in the law of "ta'am ke-ikar." Even if the pots are externally clean, the Torah bids us to concern ourselves with what's inside, embedded in the walls. Why? Because that which is embedded inside the walls will invariable affect the food prepared in the pot. Similarly, that which exists inside our minds and hearts will undoubtedly have some effect on how we speak and act. The Torah therefore demands a purity of mind, as this will help ensure our purity of action.

A certain tension exists when it comes to the relative importance of deed and emotion in Judaism. Generally (pardon the oversimplification), the Lithuanian ("Litvishe") tradition emphasizes the concrete, technical actions demanded by the halakhic system. This world focuses primarily on determining what the Torah obligates us to do and refrain from doing. Chasidism, by contrast, concentrates far more on the heart and soul, teaching the importance of joy and spiritual feeling in the worship of God.

The idea of the Kotzker Rebbe may perhaps bridge this gap, if only somewhat, between these two extremes. Indeed, the Torah demands primarily concrete action, the do's and don’ts. However, how one feels and thinks inevitably impacts upon his actions. According to this theory, thought and emotion take on secondary inherent significance, but practically become as critical as concrete action. Insofar as one's feelings and thoughts affect what he does, he must make an effort to perfect them, as well, so that the "taste" imparted into his "food" is as "kosher" as the "food" itself.

*****

Yesterday, we discussed the question as to why the Torah first introduces the laws of "kashering," which requirpurging a utensil that had been used with non-kosher fobefore using it for kosher food, in Parashat Matot. The battle against Midyan, during which Benei Yisrael seized the enemy's possessions, thus necessitating the study of these laws, is not the first time Benei Yisrael looted the utensils of other nations. In the battle against Sichon and Og, told in Parashat Chukat, Benei Yisrael likewise captured these nations' possessions. Why, then, did the Torah not present the laws of kashering after that battle? The Ramban answered, as we saw yesterday, that halakha granted special dispensation to warriors fighting against the seven Canaanite nations to partake of the non-kosher food that they come upon over the course of fighting. Since Sichon and Og were Emorites - one of the seven nations, their food was not, technically speaking, non-kosher. Hence, their utensils did not require kashering.

Many questions have been raised concerning this theory of the Ramban. One was posed to Rabbi Akiva Eiger, and is published in "Shut ve-Chiddushei Rabbi Akiva Eiger" (chapter 11). Even should we accept the Ramban's presumption that halakha viewed these utensils as kosher utensils, a problem would nevertheless arise concerning the use of these utensils for meat or milk. A utensil seized from Sichon's kingdom that had been used with meat would not be permitted to be used with milk, and vice-versa. Benei Yisrael therefore needed to learn the laws of kashering in order to permit the use of these utensils with meat or dairy foods.

As Rabbi Akiva Eiger quotes, the questioner, Rabbi Yosef of Brig, suggests his own answer. According to the Rashba (cited by the Tur, Y.D. 93), a pot used with meat could be used with milk (or vice-versa) without kashering, if it is used with a parve food in between. For example, if chicken was boiled in a pot, then one can boil vegetables in that same pot and then use it to boil some milk. The Rashba explains that while the vegetables are boiled, the pot expunges whatever meat taste could potentially be extracted from the walls of the pot. By the time one boils the milk, no meat taste remains embedded in the walls of the pot that could be expelled into the milk.

Therefore, contends Rabbi Yosef of Brig, the Ramban felt there was no need for Benei Yisrael to learn the laws of kashering after the battles with Sichon and Og. Since the food used with the seized utensils was permissible, the utensils themselves could be used. And if Benei Yisrael wished to use them with meat or milk, they could simply employ the method of the Rashba.

This, of course, assumes that normative halakha follows the position of the Rashba. The Bet Yosef claims that many Rishonim in fact dispute this ruling of the Rashba, and indeed in the Shulchan Arukh he makes no mention of this leniency. The Shakh, however, in his Nekudot ha-Kessef (to Y.D. 93:2) takes strong issue with the Bet Yosef and seeks to demonstrate that in fact the majority of Rishonim concurred with the Rashba on this matter.

*****

Parashat Matot begins with the laws of nedarim, specifically with the prohibition of "lo yacheil devaro" - that one may not violate an oath. Moshe introduces these laws by instructing the tribal leaders, "Zeh ha-davar asher tziva Hashem" - "This is what the Lord commanded." Rashi, citing the Sifrei, notes that this expression, "zeh ha-davar," is unique to Moshe's prophecies. Other prophets would introduce their prophecies with the declaration, "Ko amar Hashem" - "So says Hashem." Although Moshe, too, employed this expression (Shemot 11:4), he also achieved the stature by which he could proclaim, "Zeh ha-davar asher tziva Hashem." Wherein lies the difference between these two introductory phrases, and how does all this relate to the laws of nedarim?

Rabbi Yitzchak Stollman (Minchat Yitzchak) offers the following explanation. Moshe's level of prophecy was distinct from that of all other prophets in that the Shekhina actually spoke through his voice. He did not merely repeat God's words; rather, God spoke through his voice. Moshe could therefore introduce his prophecy by saying, "This is what God said," as if to say, "This that you are about to hear is actually God speaking." Other prophets could merely report to their audiences what God had revealed to them.

Clearly, it is difficult - if possible at all - for us to understand what precisely this distinction means, and what exactly is entailed by the Shekhina speaking through a human voice. But, as Rabbi Stollman continues, it is precisely this unique power of Moshe that prompted the Torah to reveal this distinction here, as it introduces the laws of nedarim (vows). The potential for the human voice to achieve this remarkable status, of being transformed into the "voice" of the Shekhina, itself gives rise to the prohibition against violating one's word. That God could speak through Moshe's voice reflects a degree of sanctity latent in the human voice. A sacred item must be treated accordingly, with respect and reverence. Violating a promise cheapens the human voice and renders it meaningless. Doing so thus constitutes a direct affront to the sanctity of voice and language.

The power of speech distinguishes the human being from the animals. Targum Onkelos famously translates the term, "nefesh chaya," referring to the creation of man (in Bereishit 2:7), as a reference to the power of speech. The potential of speech to become the voice of the Shekhina represents, in effect, the unique potential of man to become a sacred being, to become a "chariot for the Shekhina" (as Chazal described the patriarchs). Our tongues, therefore, must be treated with reverence, as it affords us the opportunity to transcend our physical nature and develop the divine spirit implanted within us.

*****

As part of the Torah's record in Parashat Masei of Benei Yisrael's travels, it mentions that Aharon passed away "in the fifth month on the first of the month" (33:38), or Rosh Chodesh Av, in the fortieth year of Benei Yisrael's sojourn in the wilderness. Accordingly, Rosh Chodesh Av was included in the list of days compiled by the Behag to be observed as fast days. The Tur, in Orach Chayim 580, cites this list from the Behag. Surprisingly, the Behag introduces his list by describing these days as "days on which we fast based on Torah law… ," implying that the Torah itself mandates these fasts. Clearly, this is not the case; Yom Kippur stands alone as the only fast day constituting a Biblical obligation. The Bet Yosef therefore suggests that the Behag merely sought to emphasize that one should treat these days with a degree of seriousness as he would if they had been required by Torah law. Clearly, however, fasting on these days cannot be considered anything more than a rabbinic enactment or just a worthwhile practice.

Another surprising feature of this Behag, as noted already by the Kolbo (cited by the Bet Yosef) and many others, involves the inclusion of Rosh Chodesh Nissan and Rosh Chodesh Av in this list. We have already mentioned that the fast of Rosh Chodesh Av commemorates the death of Aharon; Rosh Chodesh Nissan, the Behag writes, is observed as a fast to commemorate the death of Aharon's two sons, Nadav and Avihu, which occurred on this day. How could a fast day have been instituted on Rosh Chodesh, when fasting is prohibited? In fact, the mishna in Masekhet Ta'anit 15b states explicitly that a community's leadership may not decree a fast day on Rosh Chodesh. Indeed, the Kolbo notes that he has never seen anyone observe these fasts.

Others, however, try to justify observing these fasts of the Behag, even those occurring on Rosh Chodesh. One explanation argues that the mishna in Ta'anit referred only to a single community's acceptance of a fast day; Am Yisrael in its entirety, however, may indeed take upon itself a fast day even on Rosh Chodesh. Secondly, this prohibition perhaps applies only to fasting in response to a certain crisis, such as drought, plague and the like, Heaven forbid. To commemorate sad historic events, however, a fast may be decreed even on Rosh Chodesh. (TheAcharonim similarly document the practice in the Jewish community of Worms to observe a fast on Rosh ChodeshSivan, marking the bloody attack of the Crusaders launched against the Jews of that town on this day.)

Rav Moshe Sternbuch, in his "Ta'am ve-Da'at" on Parashat Masei, advances an interesting theory to justify this practice. The Behag, as cited by the Tur, reads as follows: "These are the days when we fast… and the one who fasts on them does not eat or drink until evening." Rav Sternbuch notes the seeming superfluity in this introduction. All fasts days extend until dark; why must the Behag make a point of reminding the reader that one who observes these fasts must refrain from eating or drinking until the evening? Rav Sternbuch therefore suggests that "ad ha-erev" ("until evening") here refers to sunset (as opposed to the Bet Yosef's interpretation, that it means nightfall). The Behag thus implies that these fasts extend only until sundown, as opposed to regular fasts that must be observed until dark. Accordingly, on Rosh Chodesh Nissan and Av one must eat after sundown in order not to be considered as having observed an official fast on Rosh Chodesh.

It thus turns out that the Behag did not intend for one to observe these days as formal fast days, but rather to refrain from food and drink until sundown as a commemoration of these sad events.

The Arukh ha-Shulchan observes that this custom was not observed at all in his time. He writes that the Geonim never instituted these fast days as an outright obligation, but rather as a worthwhile custom. He adds that no new fast days can be legislated after the period of the Talmud, so we certainly cannot view these fasts as obligatory.

*****

Parashat Masei introduces the laws of the "arei miklat," the six "cities of refuge" where one who commits an accidental murder can be granted asylum. The verse (35:14) requires establishing three such cities in "ever ha-Yarden," the territory east of the Jordan River captured from Sichon and Og and settled by Reuven, Gad and half of Menashe, and three others in Eretz Canaan proper, west of the Jordan. In Sefer Devarim (4:41), we discover that Moshe, prior to his death, established the three cities east of the Jordan River. Nevertheless, the mishna in Masekhet Makkot (9b) asserts that these three cities did not formally attain the status of ir miklat, and thus did not grant asylum to accidental murderers, until after their three counterparts west of the river were established. Later in the same Masekhet (10a), the Gemara notes that Moshe knew ahead of time that these cities would not function as arei miklat until after his death (for he was destined to die before Benei Yisrael entered the Land). Nevertheless, he thought to himself, "A mitzva that comes my way - I should fulfill it!"

Rav Menashe Klein, in his "Maggid Mishneh" on Chumash, raises the possibility of applying this Gemara to a famous discussion among halakhic scholars. Many prohibitions of the Torah have a minimum quantity requirement for punishment to be administered by Bet Din. Most commonly, if one eats less than a "ke-zayit" (the volume of an olive) of forbidden foods, then, generally speaking, he is not liable for punishment at the hands of the Bet Din. A well-known dispute exists between Rabbi Yochanan and Reish Lakish as to whether one who eats less than this minimum quantity violates a Torah prohibition or a rabbinic enactment. We follow Rabbi Yochanan's view, that it violates a Torah prohibition, even though no punishment can be rendered. This prohibition against eating less than the full amount is called "chatzi-shiur."

Many Acharonim have debated whether or not there exists a parallel concept with regard to mitzvot (obligations, as opposed to prohibitions). The most common example is the Torah obligation to partake of a ke-zayit of matza at the Pesach seder. For many people, eating this quantity of matza raises serious medical concerns, and they simply cannot do so. Should they eat less than this amount of matza? On the one hand, if the Torah requires the consumption of a ke-zayit, what purpose is there in eating less than this amount? On the other hand, one may contend that the principle of "chatzi-shiur" applies in such a case, and mandates that one performs a mitzva act even through the consumption of less than the minimum required amount.

Rav Klein suggests that we may resolve this issue from Moshe's involvement in the three eastern arei miklat. The fact that these cities became functional only after the establishment of its western counterparts appears to indicate that we deal here with a single, integrated obligation to establish arei miklat, rather than six different mitzvot, to build six cities. The dependence of the eastern cities on the western cities suggests that the mitzva to build these cities could not be completed until all six were built. Hence, Moshe knew ahead of time that he could not fulfill the mitzva in its entirety, as no mitzva is fulfilled before the completion of all six cities. Nevertheless, as the Gemara says, out of his love for mitzvot he build the three that he could anyway. Accordingly, then, even one who cannot eat a full ke-zayit of matza should, perhaps, eat whatever amount he can.

Rav Klein expresses doubt over his line of reasoning, without explaining why. One possible basis for refuting his argument is to distinguish between the formal mitzva to establish arei miklat and their functionality. One could perhaps argue that although the three cities established by Moshe did not operate as arei miklat until later, a specific mitzva is nevertheless involved in each individual city. If a mitzva is fulfilled even before the city actually becomes functional, then Moshe in fact performed a complete mitzva, and we can draw no proof to the case of eating less than a ke-zayit of matza.

We should note, however, that a comment of the Rambam may imply otherwise. In his commentary to the mishna in Masekhet Avot 4:2 - "You shall run for a small mitzva just as to a stringent mitzva" - the Rambam cites Moshe's establishment of the three arei miklat as an example of zeal for mitzvot. In the midst of his brief discussion, he refers to Moshe's actions as a "chatzi mitzva," a "half mitzva," perhaps suggesting that his mitzva performance cannot be considered complete before the cities became operational arei miklat.

*****

As mentioned yesterday, in Parashat Masei we encounter the Torah's discussion of the arei miklat - the cities of refuge meant to protect inadvertent murderers from vengeful relatives of the victim. In Masekhet Makkot 10a, the Gemara cites a surprising comment of Rabbi Yochanan that "words of Torah protect" those who committed accidental murders, just like an ir miklat. Rabbi Yochanan derives this theory - whatever it means - from verses in Parashat Vaetchanan that appear to associate Torah learning with cities of refuge. The Gemara proceeds to offer two possible understandings of this comment. First, the Gemara accepts the literal interpretation, the Torah study could, at least theoretically, attain the status of an ir miklat and offer the murderer legal asylum from vengeful relatives of the victim. However, Torah study could have this power only while the individual actually learns; practically, then, one must flee to an ir miklat and cannot employ the "Torah option," of learning instead. Alternatively, the Gemara understood that the association between learning and the arei miklat is not to be taken literally. Rather, Torah protects one in a manner similar to the protection the ir miklat affords the inadvertent murderer.

Rav Shimon Schwab, in his Ma'ayan Beit ha-Sho'eiva, develops this association further, and uncovers the depth of this power of Torah study. He suggests that the Gemara speaks of one who inadvertently "murders" himself. Meaning, due to negligence, the individual has fallen short of the required standard of observance. The person in question has stumbled and erred due to his lack of knowledge or awareness. The protection granted to such a sinner comes from Torah learning. Owho applies himself to study the Torah will, gradually, become more knowledgeable and more aware of what halakha expects of him, what he must and may not do. Thus, just as one who accidentally kills is saved from the repercussions of his act by fleeing to his city of refuge, so does an accidental sinner protect himself by learning.

Among the many interesting features of this idea is the parallel drawn between suicide, Heaven forbid, and spiritual inadequacy. That Rav Schwab indeed compared the two, and proceeded to explain Rabbi Yochanan's remark on the basis of this parallel, reflects his understanding of the very essence of existence. As man is created for the sole purpose of serving his Creator, any failure in this regard amounts, to some extent, to the undermining of his very existence. We may thus allegorically speak of one who accidentally violates the Torah as having inadvertently killed himself, so-to-speak.

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.

Make Jewish learning part of your week on a regular basis - enroll in the
Virtual Beit Midrash

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