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Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT MATOT

By Rav David Silverberg

The haftara read on the first Shabbat following Shiv'a Asar Be-Tamuz (the first Shabbat of the "three weeks") is taken from the beginning of Sefer Yirmiyahu, and records that prophet's inaugural prophecy. We read that upon hearing God speak to him the first time and assign him the role of prophet, Yirmiyahu responds, "Ah, Lord God! I don't know how to speak, for I am still a boy" (Yirmiyahu 1:6). Rashi and the Radak explain that Yirmiyahu saw himself incapable of administering tokhecha (words of reproach) because nobody would accept the reproach of a youngster. His youth rendered him unsuitable for the position of authority and respect necessary to gain an attentive ear on the part of his audience.

Metzudot David, however, explains Yirmiyahu's concern much differently, as referring to his lack of linguistic skill. He felt incapable of formulating the content of his prophecies eloquently, and hence deemed himself unqualified for the role of prophet.

Abarbanel, in the introduction to his commentary to Sefer Yirmiyahu, also adopts this position, and on this basis arrives at a somewhat startling conclusion. While lauding Yirmiyahu's prophetic stature, noting that Chazal spoke of him more highly than of most other prophets, his skills of literary expression left what to be desired. Abarbanel observes that the poetic quality of Sefer Yirmiyahu pales in comparison with that of other prophets. Furthermore, Yirmiyahu has a tendency to confuse the Hebrew words el (too) and al (above, or about) and to employ incorrect conjugation of verbs. For example, in many instances in Sefer Yirmiyahu, the plural form appears where the singular form is appropriate (and vice-versa), and verbs are often conjugated in the feminine form when modifying a masculine noun (and vice-versa). In addition, Abarbanel observes the inordinate number of instances in this book where words are spelled differently than they are pronounced (keri and ketiv). He attributes these literary deficiencies to Yirmiyahu's youth, claiming that despite the clarity and irrefutably lofty stature of Yirmiyahu's prophecy, he was inexperienced in the art of literary expression, as manifest in the relatively poor linguistic quality of his sefer.

Malbim, in his introduction to Sefer Yirmiyahu, cites and strongly disapproves of Abarbanel's conclusions. One is simply not entitled, Malbim contends, to cast judgment on the literary quality of a text transmitted through prophecy. Malbim here expresses his view that the precise formulation of prophecies, as recorded in the Sifrei Nevi'im, was transmitted to the prophet. God conveyed to the prophet not only the basic content, which the prophet would then formulate in his own words and transmit to the people, but also the precise wording used. Thus, one has no right to attribute a prophet's literary style to his own particular skill or lack thereof.

Abarbanel, of course, works off the assumption that prophets indeed formulated their prophecies in their own, personal style, and thus linguistic tendencies most certainly affected the text used in conveying their prophecies.

Though admittedly I have not conducted a thorough survey on the subject, the more common approach appears to be that of Abarbanel, that all prophets besides Moshe chose their own formulation. In fact, this is one of the common explanations of the Midrashic passage cited by Rashi in his comments to the opening verse of Parashat Matot. The Midrash notes Moshe's introductory remark, "Zeh ha-davar asher tziva Hashem" – "this is the matter that the Lord has commanded." Other prophets, the Midrash observes, begin their prophecies by saying, "Ko amar Hashem" – "Thus said the Lord"; only Moshe could say, "Zeh ha-davar." This distinction is commonly understood to mean that only Moshe reported God's message to the people word-for-word. "Zeh" connotes carbon-copy precision, a quality that characterized only Moshe's prophecies. Other prophets conveyed God's word in their own style; while the content, of course, was authentic, the literally expression used in transmission was the prophet's own creation. But Malbim, as we saw, disagrees, claiming that all prophets conveyed word-for-word reports of the message they had received from the Almighty.

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Towards the end of yesterday's discussion, we addressed a famous Midrashic passage cited in Rashi's commentary to the opening verse of Parashat Matot. The Midrash notes that whereas Moshe introduced his prophecies with the expression, "Zeh ha-davar asher tziva Hashem" ("This is the matter that the Lord has commanded"), other prophets would begin, "Ko amar Hashem" – "Thus says God." As we noted, the difference between these two introductory phrases is generally seen in terms of the fundamentally distinct modes of communication through which God spoke to Moshe and other prophets. Moshe's prophecy was conveyed through direct, precise dictation; he "heard" God's words (so-to-speak) and conveyed them to the people precisely as he had received them. Other prophets beheld the divine message in only very general terms, and formulated the prophecies through their own devices.

The obvious question arises as to how this distinction bears particular relevance to the given context. This is hardly the first time Moshe conveys to the nation commands he received from the Almighty. Why specifically here, in introducing the laws of nedarim (voluntary vows), does Moshe emphasize the precision of his prophecy, by declaring, "Zeh ha-davar"?

Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky, in Emet Le-Yaakov, suggests that the concept of nedarim, whereby a person is empowered to enact a binding obligation, indeed necessitates a reminder of Moshe's singular stature. The fact that a self-imposed measure becomes halakhically binding upon an individual essentially means that the Torah allows for innovating mitzvot. The moment one vows never to eat apples, Rav Yaakov explains, apples become as forbidden as pork. And if a person vows to engage in a certain activity on the fifteenth of Tishrei, for example, Halakha requires him to perform the given action just as it demands that he take a lulav on that day. This power can easily be mistaken for license to dictate one's own set of religious guidelines. Upon hearing the laws of nedarim, people may likely extend this concept one step further, to mean that the Torah grants the individual full authority to establish his own mode of worship, to apply his own intuition, innovation and creative thinking in determining religious law.

It is therefore emphasized in this context that only Moshe can say "Zeh ha-davar asher tziva Hashem." Only he transmitted to Benei Yisrael a carbon copy of the divine word, and no other individual may alter that code through personal innovation. Although Halakha grants people the right to impose personal obligations and strictures, this power extends no further than that, and it must not be interpreted as casting all Torah law into the personal, subjective realm.

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The opening section of Parashat Matot introduces the concept of hafarat nedarim, empowering a father or husband to annul vows taken by the daughter or wife. The Torah tells that if a father or husband verbally annuls the daughter or wife's vow on the day of its utterance, "the Lord will forgive her," since the vow is effectively null and void (30:6, 13). The Gemara (Nazir 23a), cited by Rashi (commentary to 30:6), explains that the Torah refers here to a woman who partook of the food she had forbidden upon herself, in violation of the vow. However, since the husband had erased the vow through the mechanism of hafara, God will forgive her. The Gemara records that Rabbi Akiva would weep upon reading this verse. The Torah here clearly requires forgiveness even in a case where no violation has technically occurred. Since the vow was annulled, the woman committed no violation by partaking of the given food. All the more so, Rabbi Akiva would exclaim, do we depend on divine compassion and pardon when we indeed commit transgressions. This realization brought Rabbi Akiva to tears.

Many writers have struggled to explain Rabbi Akiva's remarks. Surely Rabbi Akiva was well aware of the gravity of sin, of betraying God by violating His commands. Why is this sense of severity reinforced when considering the need for forgiveness upon unsuccessfully attempting to commit transgressions?

Rav Barukh Epstein, in his Tosefet Berakha, suggests that Rabbi Akiva reacted to the apparent need for atonement for even hirhurei aveira – the thought and planning underlying forbidden activity. A woman in the case described above, who violates the vow under the mistaken assumption that it is still operative, requires atonement not for the act itself – which was, of course, a permissible act – but rather for the intent to violate the Torah. This reminded Rabbi Akiva that when a person actually commits an offense, he must achieve expiation for not only the wrongful act itself, but also for the thought behind it.

The Rambam, in his Moreh Nevukhim (3:8), elaborates on the gravity of sinful thought, and cites the rabbinic dictum, "Hirhurei aveira kashin mei-aveira" – thoughts of sin are worse than sin itself. According to the Rambam, this is so because misusing the mind is a far graver offense than misusing the body. He draws an analogy to one who enslaves a low-class peasant, as opposed to another who enslaves a nobleman. The latter would be deemed as having committed a more severe act of humiliation and degradation. Similarly, the mind far exceeds the body in importance and intrinsic value, and thus desecrating the mind by using it for sin constitutes a greater religious offense than committing forbidden acts.

According to the Tosefet Berakha, it was this realization that brought Rabbi Akiva to tears. He realized that we are held accountable not only for our wrongful actions, but for our misuse of the mind, as well, and therefore upon committing an offense, we must repent not only for the given action, but for the mindset and attitude that precipitated it, as well.

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The latter part of Parashat Matot (chapter 32) tells of the request made by the tribes of Reuven and Gad to colonize and permanently settle the territory of the east bank of the Jordan River, which Benei Yisrael had recently captured from the Emorites. Moshe initially criticizes their request, comparing these tribes to the generation of the meraglim (scouts) who refused to enter the Land out of fear of confrontation with its Canaanite inhabitants. Reuven and Gad clarified that they were prepared to join their brethren in battle against the Canaanites across the river, after first building homes and barns for their families and cattle. Only after the nation's successful conquest of Eretz Yisrael proper would they return to their homes east of the Jordan.

Moshe grants these tribes' request, emphasizing that their right to settle east of the river depended on their participation with the other tribes in the conquest of Eretz Yisrael. He concludes, "Go and build cities for your children and sheepfolds for your flocks, and abide by that which left your mouths" (32:24). This concluding remark requires some explanation. Moshe had already established that the tribes' permanent settlement east of the river depends on their participation in the battles west of the river. Why does he now instruct them to build homes and barns, and why must he reiterate "and abide by that which left your mouths"?

A partial explanation appears in the Midrash Tanchuma (7; this appears as well in Bamidbar Rabba 22:9), which notes that Moshe first mentions the construction of "cities for your children," and only then "sheepfolds for your flocks." Earlier, when Gad and Reuven express their willingness to join the other tribes in battle, they mention that they will build "sheepfolds for our flocks here, and cities for our children." The Midrash charges that Reuven and Gad afforded priority to their wealth and assets over their children; they assigned primary status to their finances, and secondary status to their children. Moshe therefore sought to correct their mistake by restructuring the sequence of events. He told them they must first care for the needs of their families, and only then devote themselves to the well being of their flocks.

This easily explains the first half of this verse – "Go and build cities for your children and sheepfolds for your flocks." Moshe here seeks to correct the misplaced priorities of these two tribes. Why, however, must he reiterate, "and abide by that which left your mouths"?

The Ketav Sofer suggests that this final clause should be read not as an imperative, but rather as the result of the preceding clause. Reuven and Gad's disproportionate focus on their wealth aroused not only Moshe's criticism, but also his suspicion. Moshe understood that people who are so passionately driven after money cannot necessarily be trusted. He therefore ordered them to first build cities for their children and then sheepfolds for their flocks, to demonstrate their reassessment of their priorities, that they understand the secondary status of wealth in their lives. Only then, after they have corrected this error, could Moshe rest assured that they will "abide by that which left your mouths." So long as they emphasized their cattle over their families, giving priority to their financial endeavors, Moshe felt uneasy about their promise to join the rest of the nation in battle. Only once they demonstrated a more balanced perspective and priority scale did he feel confident that they would indeed live up to their commitment and fulfill their promise to participate in the battle in Canaan.

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Parashat Matot tells of the war waged by Benei Yisrael against Midyan, as revenge for Midyan's role in the tragic incident of Ba'al Pe'or (recorded in the final section of Parashat Balak). Upon Benei Yisrael's return from battle, Elazar, the kohen gadol (high priest), presents to them the instructions concerning the process to which we commonly refer as kashering – the method by which a utensil that had been used with non-kosher food is rendered permissible for use. In this presentation, Elazar adds that the utensils require purification through mei nida (31:23), a term that generally refers to the waters made with the ashes of the para aduma (red heifer), through which a person or utensil is divested of its status of tum'a (ritual impurity). The straightforward reading of the verse, as Rashi explains, is that Elazar instructs the soldiers that utensils that had come in contact with corpses must undergo the process of purification with the para aduma waters to be considered tahor (ritually pure). The Gemara, however, in Masekhet Avoda Zara (75b), presents a much different reading of the verse, whereby it refers to immersion in a mikva. This verse thus introduces the obligation of tevilat keilim, namely, that utensils acquired from a gentile must be immersed before use.

Many (perhaps most) Rishonim maintain that this obligation was actually ordained by Chazal, and the Gemara's reading of this verse should be seen as an asmakhta – a subtle allusion in the text, but not the primary reading. Tosefot (Yoma 78a), however, view this requirement as a Torah obligation, and the Ramban, in his commentary to this verse, expresses some uncertainty on the matter.

According to the position viewing tevilat keilim as a Torah obligation, the question arises as to why it is presented only now, after the battle with Midyan. Seemingly, this halakha became relevant earlier, after Benei Yisrael's war with Sichon and Og, during which they captured and took possession of the kingdoms' belongings. Indeed, the Ramban (in his commentary to this verse) raises this question concerning the laws of kashering, wondering why these laws were not introduced after the battle with Sichon and Og. He answered that the war with Sichon and Og marked the first stage of the battle of kibush ha-aretz – to capture the Land in Israel – during which a unique provision applied rendering the Canaanites' food permissible for consumption. Therefore, the utensils taken from these empires did not require kashering. This answer, however, cannot be applied to the issue of tevilat keilim. The requirement to immerse utensils acquired from gentiles has nothing to do with the forbidden foods with which they were used. Even utensils that had never been used with non-kosher foods require immersion. The question, therefore, remains, why was this obligation not introduced after the battle with Sichon and Og? Indeed, Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson, in his work of responsa Sho'el U-meishiv (Mahadura Tanina, 4:17), cites this as proof to the rabbinic – rather than Biblical – origins of the tevilat keilim obligation.

Others, however, attempted to resolve this difficulty. One particularly fascinating theory is cited in the name of the work Gidulei Tahara, who claims that the Land of Israel and all its resources already belonged to Benei Yisrael ever since God promised it to Avraham. Thus, any utensils manufactured in the Land were considered under Jewish ownership from the outset, and therefore did not require immersion. Since, as the Ramban claimed, the battle with Sichon and Og effectively marked the beginning of the conquest of Eretz Yisrael, over which Benei Yisrael – the descendants of Avraham Avinu – were already the rightful owners, the utensils won in that war did not require tevila. Midyan, however, is obviously not part of Eretz Yisrael, and therefore the utensils brought as spoils from that war most certainly required immersion.

Rav Yitzchak Weiss, in his Minchat Yitzchak (4:114:2), cites and dismisses this theory proposed by the Gidulei Tahara. He noted that undoubtedly, even if the Land technically remained under Israelite ownership since God's promise to Avraham, nevertheless, articles produced from materials taken from the land are considered the property of the manufacturer or subsequent purchaser. He invokes the standard laws of ownership transfer in situations of theft to demonstrate that Benei Yisrael's legal ownership of the Land would not undermine the ownership of the Canaanites over the utensils produced from the Land's resources.

We might add two other points in response to the Gidulei Tahara's approach. For one thing, there was no guarantee that all the utensils captured from Sichon and Og were manufactured there; presumably, many articles and/or resources were imported from neighboring countries. Secondly, it is questionable whether Benei Yisrael could be said to have had ownership over the territory of Sichon and Og before capturing those areas. Sichon's empire had belonged to the nation of Moav before the Emorites captured the territory. Seemingly, then, this area was not promised to Avraham's offspring, and thus did not legally belong to Benei Yisrael before they dispossessed the Emorites. Therefore, the utensils taken during this battle should indeed have required tevila.

Tomorrow we will iy"H discuss other answers suggested to resolve this difficulty.

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Yesterday, we noted that the Gemara (Avoda Zara 75b) derives the obligation of tevilat keilim – to immerse utensils acquired from gentiles – from a verse in Parashat Matot (31:23). This verse appears amidst the instructions given after Benei Yisrael's battle with Midyan regarding the process required to allow use of the kitchen utensils seized during this campaign. We addressed the question of why the tevilat keilim obligation was not introduced earlier, after Benei Yisrael's battle against Sichon and Og, as a result of which they took possession of those empires' belongings. Seemingly, the requirement to immerse utensils applied to those utensils, as well, and Benei Yisrael thus should have been informed of this obligation in the aftermath of that conflict.

The work Keli Chemda cites the Rav of Chechnov as suggesting that the utensils taken during the battle with Sichon and Og did not require immersion because they had become ownerless by the time Benei Yisrael took possession of them. The Torah indicates that no Emorite fugitives or captives survived this battle (see Devarim 2:34-35), and thus the utensils had no owners when they came under Benei Yisrael's possession. The Rav Chechnov asserts that the obligation of tevilat keilim applies only to utensils that enter Jewish ownership directly from the possession of a gentile. If a Jew acquired a utensil from hefker (an ownerless state), it does not require tevila, even if it had previously been owned by a gentile.

Rav Tzvi Pesach Frank (as documented in Har Tzvi al Ha-Torah) dismissed this explanation. He argued that without clear evidence, we cannot limit the obligation of tevila to situations of direct transfer from gentile to Jew; we must assume that it applies anytime a utensil previously owned by a gentile comes under Jewish possession, even after an interim period of hefker.

Rav Frank therefore suggests an entirely different, far simpler, answer as to why tevilat keilim was not introduced earlier. Quite simply, such a question should not be asked. God introduced mitzvot at the times He saw fit, and the factors prompting these decisions lie beyond the limits of human comprehension. True, the Ramban, as we saw yesterday, raised the question as to why the laws of kashering (the method by which utensils that had been used with non-kosher food become suitable for use with kosher food) were not presented after the war with Sichon and Og. However, as Rav Frank correctly notes, these laws did not entail a new prohibition or obligation. Kashering is simply the means by which one avoids violating the Torah's dietary code when using utensils that had been used with non-kosher foods. There is no mitzva to perform this process, and the only prohibitions violated by not following these guidelines are the prohibitions of kashrut, which the Torah had presented earlier. Therefore, the Ramban was understandably bothered by the fact that the kashering laws were not relevant to the utensils taken from the nations of Sichon and Og. Tevila, however, constitutes an independent obligation, rather than just the means of avoiding of a different violation, and thus the question need not be asked why God chose to present it at a certain point and not earlier.

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The final section of Parashat Matot tells of the allocation of the Eiver Ha-yarden – the east bank of the Jordan Rover – to the tribes of Reuven and Gad. As we discussed earlier this week, Moshe initially refuses the request made by these two tribes to permanently settle in the newly captured region, viewing this request as a recurrence of the sin of the scouts, when Benei Yisrael refused to enter the Land out of fear of military conflict. Moshe acquiesces only once Reuven and Gad guarantee to take part in the campaign to conquer Eretz Yisrael and only then return to their holdings east of the river.

Many writers noted an apparent distinction between these tribes' expression of their plans to participate in battle, and Moshe's reiteration of this commitment. Several times in his remarks, Moshe repeats the words, lifnei Hashem – "before the Lord" – a phrase that the tribes of Reuven and Gad had never mentioned. Moshe declares, "If you do this thing – if you go as warriors before the Lord to battle, and every warrior among you crosses the Jordan before the Lord until He vanquishes His foes from His presence, and the Land is captured before the Lord and only then you return – you will then be clear before the Lord and Israel, and this land shall be yours as a permanent holding before the Lord… " (32:20-22). Interestingly, when Reuven and Gad then formally commit themselves to this stipulation, they, too, add the phrase lifnei Hashem (see 32:32).

On one level, Moshe's emphasis in this regard flows naturally from the concerns he voiced initially. He found it necessary to impress upon Reuven and Gad that it was not Benei Yisrael who would wage this war in Canaan, but rather the Almighty. Still fearful that Reuven and Gad entertained doubts about the nation's ability to dispossess the Canaanites, Moshe took the opportunity to remind them – several times over – that this war is fought by God Himself, who had guaranteed Benei Yisrael victory.

Rav Yaakov Mecklenberg, in his Ha-ketav Ve-ha-kabbala, suggests a different explanation for Moshe's emphasis of the concept of lifnei Hashem. Moshe sensed that Reuven and Gad were prepared to join the other tribes in battle as a civic duty, rather than a religious obligation. These tribes, he suspected, agreed to cross the Jordan only because otherwise it would be unfair, as they begin developing their cities and farms while their brethren spend seven years on the battlefield. Moshe wanted to emphasize that Reuven and Gad must join the war effort lifnei Hashem – because God has commanded Benei Yisrael to take possession of their homeland. This was more than a civic duty – it constituted a religious obligation, as well.

In this manner, Rabbi Mecklenberg explains Moshe's comment that if Reuven and Gad abide by their commitment, then "you will then be clear before the Lord and Israel." Meaning, they will have then fulfilled their duties towards both the other tribes and the Almighty. Moshe then adds, "But if you fail to do this, behold you will have sinned before the Lord" (32:23). Failure to participate in the conquest effort would amount to an offense against not only their fellow Israelites, but against God, as well.