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SALT - PARASHAT MASEI
by David Silverberg
MOTZAEI
Parashat Masei introduces the mitzva of arei miklat, the
“cities of refuge” where inadvertent killers could escape the vengeance of the
victim’s relatives. We read that
six cities were specifically designated as arei miklat, and that these
were six of the forty-eight cities designated for the Leviyim (35:6). The Gemara in Masekhet Makkot (10a)
establishes that in truth, all forty-eight cities of the Leviyim served as arei miklat, but the six especially
designated cities were unique in that they granted protection even if the killer
arrived there for some other reason, without seeking refuge. Furthermore, an inadvertent killer who
sought protection in the one of the six primary arei miklat was not
required to pay for lodging, whereas such expenses were incurred in the other
forty-two Levite cities. (See also
Rambam, Hilkhot Rotzei’ach 8:10.)
In any event, it is clear that the Torah specifically wished for
inadvertent killers to find protection living in Levite cities. What connection is there between the
concept of arei miklat and the role and status of the Leviyim?
Why were specifically the Levite cities chosen for this
purpose?
The Sefer
Ha-chinukh attributed this
designation to the Leviyim’s stature of piety, which would assist the
killer in earning atonement for his negligence: “Because of their [the Leviyim’s] great stature, proper conduct and
prayers, their land was chosen…to host any inadvertent killer…so perhaps their
land, which is endowed with their sanctity, will provide atonement for
him.” As the Leviyim were to serve as the nation’s spiritual
elite, residence among them had the capacity to earn atonement for inadvertently
killing one’s fellow.
Rav Yehuda Lein Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, suggested another possible explanation,
one which relates specifically to the Leviyim’s kind, compassionate demeanor. The Torah recognized the need to send
inadvertent killers to a place where they would be warmly welcomed and treated
kindly despite the crime they committed.
This is especially so considering the possibility that a resident of the
ir miklat may himself be a relative of the
victim. The Leviyim, as the religious leaders, exemplified this
quality of sensitivity and compassion, and their territory was therefore the
natural choice as the place of refuge for inadvertent
killers.
Earlier, the Yalkut
Yehuda posited a different theory,
namely, that the status of the Leviyim necessitated that their allotted territory
served some kind of public function.
On a number of occasions, the Torah establishes that the Leviyim do not receive a portion in the Land of
Israel, as they were to abstain from agricultural work so that they could devote
themselves fully to their role as the spiritual leaders. The Yalkut Yehuda suggested that although the Torah
instructed the other tribes to give the Leviyim forty-eight cities in which to
live, these cities could not be the exclusive property of the Levite tribe. Exclusive rights would amount to the
Leviyim’s receiving a portion
of the land, thus undermining their status as full-time devotees tending to the
nation’s spiritual needs. The Torah
therefore lent these cities a “public” quality by designating them as cities of
refuge for inadvertent killers, such that they served the entire nation, and not
merely the Leviyim.
SUNDAY
The Torah instructs in Parashat Masei, “You shall possess the land and
settle there” (“ve-horashtam et
ha-aretz vi-shavtem bah” – 33:53),
which the Ramban, both in his commentary to this verse and in his critique to
the Rambam’s Sefer Ha-mitzvot,
famously interprets as a Biblical command to possess and settle the Land of
Israel.
A number of Acharonim
raised the question of how to reconcile the Ramban’s view with a passage in
Masekhet Sota (14a), where the Gemara questions why Moshe prayed so emphatically
for permission to enter Eretz
Yisrael. The Gemara answers that Moshe desired to
fulfill those mitzvot that apply only in the Land of Israel. Seemingly, if there is an explicit
mitzva to reside in Eretz Yisrael, the Gemara should never have raised such a
question; it should have been readily obvious that Moshe wished to enter
Eretz Yisrael in order to fulfill the command to live
there.
Some Acharonim suggested that Moshe already fulfilled this
mitzva by virtue of his having resided in the
Trans-Jordanian territory that had been settled by the tribes of Reuven and
Gad. Once this territory became the
permanent home of these tribes, it assumed the halakhic status of Eretz Yisrael with regard to the mitzva of yishuv ha-aretz (living in the land), and thus Moshe did
not need to cross the Jordan in order to fulfill this
mitzva.
Rav Moshe Meir Yashar, writing in the journal Moriah (vol. 4, p.
83), proposed a much different answer, based on a comment of the Rogatchover
Gaon. This verse, which the Ramban
understands as the source for the mitzva of yishuv ha-aretz,
combines two elements: conquering the land, and settling the land. (The Ramban, too, explicitly includes
both components in his definition of this mitzva.) It thus stands to reason, Rav Yashar
asserted, that the obligation to settle in the land hinges upon the command to
conquer the land. Thus, the tribe
of Levi, which did not participate in the process of kibbush ha-aretz
(conquering the land), was also excluded from the mitzva of yishuv ha-aretz. Moshe, then, who belonged to the tribe
of Levi, did not bear an obligation to reside in the Land of Israel, and this mitzva was
therefore not a factor in his plea for permission to enter the land.
Rav Aryeh Leib Baron of Montreal, in his work Mesamchei Leiv (24), strongly rejects this premise, that
those exempt from participating in kibbush ha-aretz bear no obligation with regard to yishuv ha-aretz.
He notes that women were not obligated to take part in the battle to
conquer Eretz Yisrael, yet the Gemara (Ketubot 110b) explicitly
includes women in the obligation to reside in the Land of Israel.
We might suggest a much simpler explanation of the Gemara’s comment in
Masekhet Sota, namely, that the mitzva of yishuv ha-aretz is included in its response. When the Gemara asserts that Moshe
desired to enter the Land of Israel to fulfill the mitzvot that apply only in the land, it perhaps
refers also to the obligation to live in Eretz Yisrael.
The Gemara’s primary intent in this passage is to emphasize that Moshe
desired to live in the land not to enjoy its material benefits, but rather to
fulfill more mitzvot: “For
what reason did Moshe desire to enter the Land of Israel – did he need to eat of its fruit
or be satiated by its goodness?
Rather, this is what Moshe said: The Israelites were commanded many
mitzvot that can be fulfilled only in the Land of Israel. I wish to enter the land so that I can
fulfill all of them…” Conceivably,
the mitzva of yishuv ha-aretz would be
included among the “mitzvot that can be fulfilled only in the Land of Israel,” and thus this passage poses no
difficulty against the Ramban’s position.
MONDAY
MONDAY
Parashat Masei presents a list of the various places where Benei Yisrael encamped during their forty years of
traveling, from the day of the Exodus until their last encampment before
entering Eretz Yisrael.
One of the sites mentioned in this list in Alush, a place which the
Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 48; Tanchuma, Vayera 4) identifies as the site where
Benei Yisrael began receiving the manna from the
heavens. The Midrash associates the
name “Alush” with Avraham’s instruction to his wife, Sara, as he prepared a meal
for the three wayfarers that came to his tent: “Lushi va-asi ugot” (“Knead [flour] and prepare loaves” –
Bereishit 18:6). The resemblance
between the name “Alush” and the word “lushi,” the Midrash explains, alludes to a link
between Avraham’s hospitality and the manna: “In what merit did the Israelites
earn the privilege of receiving manna in the wilderness? In the merit of
Avraham…”
In assessing the Midrash’s comment and the association it draws between
the manna and Avraham’s generous hospitality, we should perhaps take note of the
contrast between the two contexts.
The Sages point to the verse in which Avraham instructs his wife to do
the hard work necessary to prepare bread for the guests: “Quickly take three
se’a of fine flour, knead and prepare
loaves.” This verse expresses the
effort and exertion entailed in food preparation. The manna, by contrast, was received
passively and effortlessly. Since
Adam and Chava’s banishment from Gad Eden, no food has ever been received more
effortlessly than the manna, which descended readymade from the heavens each
morning.
By associating these two contexts, Chazal perhaps sought to convey a message
concerning proactive effort and passivity.
Generally speaking, people exert most of their effort on their own
behalf, to secure their own livelihood and providing for themselves. When it comes to the needs of others,
people are, for the most part, more passive, investing little time and
effort. The contrast between
Avraham and the manna is perhaps intended to provide the opposite model, whereby
people exert themselves tirelessly on behalf of others – as Avraham did – while
investing less in providing for oneself – following the example of the
manna. While the Torah certainly
does not advocate poverty as an ideal condition, it does encourage moderation
and imposing reasonable limits on one’s pursuit of wealth. While Benei Yisrael’s “standard of living” in the wilderness is
not intended for subsequent generations, it perhaps establishes a model of
moderation that one should follow while embarking on the otherwise endless quest
for material success. With regard
to the needs of others, however, we are bidden to follow Avraham and Sara’s
example of exertion and proactive effort in providing assistance whenever it is
needed.
Additionally, perhaps, this Midrash might allude to the stark contrast in
quantity between the manna and the meal Avraham and Sara prepared. In the aforementioned verse, Avraham
instructs Sara to bake three se’a – or one eifa – of dough. The daily ration of manna for each
person, we are told (Shemot 16:36), was one-tenth of an eifa.
It thus emerges that Avraham prepared for his three guests ten times the
amount of food that each member of Benei Yisrael consumed in a day
during the period of travel in the wilderness. Thus, the Midrash perhaps seeks to
contrast the value of histapkut (contentment with little) with regard to
one’s own needs with the importance of providing generously for others. One should feel content with even
one-tenth of an eifa when it comes to his own livelihood, but make a
point of giving far more generous quantities to others.
David Silverberg
TUESDAY
The Torah in Parashat Masei presents the mitzva of ir miklat, requiring that inadvertent sinners
relocate in especially designated cities of refuge, where they are protected
from the vengeance of the victim’s relatives. From the Torah’s discussion of the
ir miklat it clearly emerges that the relocation in
the city is not simply an available option, but rather an outright
obligation. The killer is required
to leave his residence and live in the ir miklat until the death of the kohen gadol (35:25), and the Torah specifically
instructs the courts not to accept payment in lieu of a killer’s relocation in
an ir miklat (35:32).
The Mishna in Masekhet Makot (11b) goes so far as to rule that “even if
all Israel needs him, like Yoav the son
of Tzeruya,” he must still remain in the ir miklat rather than leave to offer his
assistance. In this context the
Mishna also establishes that the killer may not leave the city even to offer
vital testminy, and even in a case involving a capital crime. The Rambam codifies this halakha in his Hilkhot Rotzei’ach (7:8),
adding that the killer may not leave “even to save a life through his testimony
or to save [somebody] from an idolater, a river, a fire or a collapsed
building.”
A number of writers addressed the question of why we do not apply in
these situations the famous rule of piku’ach nefesh, which allows – and
in fact requires – violating Torah law in the interest of saving human
life. This rule is suspended under
only very rare and specific circumstances, as very carefully delineated by
Halakha. Why, then, should
the concern to save a life not override the killer’s obligation to remain in his
city of refuge?
The Tiferet Yisrael commentary to the Mishna boldly asserts that
indeed, this obligation marks an exception to the rule of piu’ach nefesh,
and overrides the concern to save a life.
In this vein he explains the Mishna’s subsequent comment that “there
shall his death be, and there shall his burial be.” The straightforward reading of the
Mishna, it would seem, is that absent the death of the kohen gadol, the
killer must continue residing in the ir miklat for the rest of his
life. The Tiferet Yisrael,
however, explains that the killer must remain there even if, for whatever
reason, the conditions in the city pose a risk to his life. Just as the killer may not leave to save
people from a life-threatening calamity, so must he remain there even this puts
his own life at risk.
Rav Asher Zelig Weiss, in his Minchat Asher (Parashat Masei),
dismisses this theory, calling it (sarcastically) “divrei nevi’ut”
(“words of prophecy”). Nowhere, Rav
Weiss notes, do we find the mitzva of ir miklat designated as one
of the laws that demand martyrdom.
We might also add that the killer’s residence in the ir miklat is
intended, at least in part, to offer him protection from the victim’s vengeful
relatives. It seems difficult to
imagine that he would be compelled to remain there even if he would die as a
result.
Rav Shlomo Ha-kohen of Vilna, in his Cheishek Shelomo commentary,
answers this question by proposing a novel reading of the Mishna and of the
Rambam’s ruling. He suggests that
when the Mishna requires the killer to remain in the ir miklat even in
cases where his life-saving services are needed, it means that he must return to
the city immediately upon completing the required mission. According to the Cheishek
Shelomo, the killer is in fact permitted to leave the ir miklat to
offer vital testimony or to save his fellow Jews from catastrophe, but the
Mishna emphasizes that his departure in these cases is only temporary, and does
not mark the sudden termination of his stay. Rather, he is obliged to return to the
city immediately after performing the required service, and continue living
there until the kohen gadol’s death.
Clearly, however, this is a very strained reading of the relevant
passages in the Mishna and of the Rambam’s ruling.
Tomorrow we will iy”H present two other answers that have been
suggested.
David Silverberg
WEDNESDAY
Yesterday, we discussed the Mishna’s ruling in Masekhet Makkot (11b)
concerning the Torah obligation requiring somebody who killed inadvertently to
relocate in an ir miklat (“city of refuge”) until the death of the
kohen gadol. The Mishna
establishes that the killer must remain in the city even if his services are
vitally needed, such as if he is a high-ranking commander during a time of
war. The Rambam (Hilkhot Rotzei’ach
7:8) codifies this halakha and adds
that the killer may not leave the ir miklat even for the purpose of
rescuing his fellow Jews from enemies or natural disasters. As we saw, a number of writers addressed
the question of why do not apply in these cases the famous rule of piku’ach
nefesh, which calls for the suspension of Torah law where human life is at
stake.
Rav Meir Simcha of Dvinsk, in his Or Samei’ach, explains that the
rule of piku’ach nefesh cannot be applied in this case because of the
risk entailed in the killer’s departure from the ir miklat. The Torah (Bamidbar 35:27) explicitly
establishes that if an inadvertent killer leaves the ir miklat prior to
the kohen gadol’s death, and thereupon he is killed by a relative of the
victim, the relative is not liable to punishment. Therefore, by leaving the city of
refuge, the killer exposes himself to danger, and Halakha does not require a person to endanger his
own life to save somebody else’s life.
For this reason, the Or
Samei’ach suggests, an inadvertent
killer remains in the ir
miklat even if his life-saving
services are required elsewhere.
This explanation was suggested by others, as well, including the
Arukh Ha-shulchan (C.M. 425:57), who adds that according to
this theory, it would be permissible for the killer to leave the ir miklat in such a case if he so
desires. As these situations indeed
entail piku’ach nefesh, the obligation to remain in the city of
refuge is suspended and the killer may therefore leave to rescue his fellow
Jew(s).
However, as Rav Asher Zelig Weiss notes in his Minchat Asher (Parashat Masei), the plain reading of the
Mishna and the Rambam’s ruling clearly suggests that they forbid the killer to
leave the city in these cases, rather than offering him the option. Rav Weiss also adds that the Rambam, in
his commentary to the Mishna, writes that if a killer leaves the ir miklat
accidentally (such as if he was unaware of the city’s boundaries) and is
then killed by the victim’s relative, that relative is in fact liable to capital
punishment. It stands to reason
that this would also apply if the killer leaves the ir miklat due to dire circumstances, such as to save
people from a fire and the like.
Hence, according to the aforementioned theory, there should be no risk to
life in such a case, and the killer should therefore be required – and not
merely allowed – to leave the city to tend to the life-threatening
situation.
Rav Weiss therefore proposes a different solution, claiming that the rule
of piku’ach nefesh suspends Torah law only in a situation
where a person’s life truly depends on another person’s intervention. In the cases described above, such as
that of the military official or disaster situations, the involvement of the
individual in question will not normally determine the outcome on its own. In circumstances where this particular
individual’s intervention will indeed make the difference between life and
death, then certainly we would apply the rule of piku’ach nefesh and require the killer to leave the
ir miklat and rescue lives. Often, however, one person’s involvement
in the kinds of situations described does not necessarily hold the key to saving
lives, and therefore Halakha
does not allow the killer to leave the city of refuge in these cases.
David Silverberg
THURSDAY
Among the topics discussed in Parashat Masei is that of the arei
miklat, the cities of refuge where inadvertent killers would live to escape
the vengeance of the victim’s relatives.
The Gemara in Masekhet Makkot (10a-b) comments that signs directing
people to the cities of refuge were placed along the roads and intersections
throughout Eretz Yisrael, in order to ensure that inadvertent killers
could find their way quickly and efficiently. As a possible Biblical source for this
halakha, the Gemara cites the verse in Sefer Devarim (19:3) which
instructs, “Takhin lekha ha-derekh” (“Prepare for yourself the road”),
which may be interpreted as requiring that the roadways be arranged in such a
way that allows for easy and efficient travel to the cites of refuge.
The Gemara proceeds to record in this context a comment of Rav Chama bar
Chanina concerning the broader implications of this halakha, which Rav
Chama encapsulates by citing a verse
in Tehillim (25:8): “The Lord is good and upright; He therefore leads sinners
along the way.” The requirement to
prepare the roads in order to assist inadvertent killers demonstrates God’s
concern to help even “sinners,” people whose negligence or carelessness led to
an accidental crime. The Almighty’s
qualities of “good” and “upright” are manifest, in part, in the kindness He
extends even to those who may not necessarily deserve it. Even when administering punishment, such
as when ordering a killer to relocate in an ir miklat, God shows concern for his well-being by
ensuring convenient and easy passage.
Rav Chama concludes, “If he leads sinners, all the more so the
righteous!” If God shows such
concern for sinners, then certainly He will show compassion and kindness to
those who are careful to avoid wrongdoing.
The Arukh La-ner comments that Rav Chama’s remark may
perhaps shed light on the Torah’s formulation in the aforementioned verse:
“Takhin lekha derekh.”
The Torah requires preparing the roads “for yourself,” despite the fact
that it refers here to the preparations needed to assist specifically
inadvertent killers. In what way do
the people prepare the roads “for themselves”? The Arukh La-ner suggests that the Gemara
perhaps intended to offer a homiletic reading of this clause, whereby it alludes
to the benefit that all people derive from this halakha.
By undertaking measures to assist sinners as the Torah demands, we do
ourselves the service of bringing to mind the Almighty’s compassion and
sensitivity to even the less spiritually accomplished members of the
nation. This reminder can serve as
a source of hope and encouragement to all people, ensuring them that the
Almighty will lead them “along the way” just as He ordered that the roads be
prepared for the benefit and convenience of inadvertent
killers.
David
Silverberg
FRIDAY
The opening section of Parashat Masei lists the sites where Benei Yisrael encamped over the course of their
forty-year sojourn in the wilderness.
The commentaries offer different reasons for this uncharacteristically
verbose listing. Among the more
famous approaches is that of Rashi, who commented that the Torah seeks to show
God’s sensitivity toward Benei
Yisrael in not requiring excessive
stopping and starting during the forty years. The Rambam, in his Guide for the Perplexed (3:50),
suggested that this list demonstrates that Benei Yisrael spent this entire period in remote,
uninhabited regions, thus proving the miraculous nature of their existence
during these years.
It would appear, however, that these explanations do not account for the
refrain, “They traveled…and they encamped” that runs throughout this
section. The Torah not only lists
the sites, but also makes a point of relating that they traveled from the
previous place and encamped in the next.
Apparently, the Torah found significance not only in the identity of
these places, but also in the fact that the Benei Yisrael arrived and encamped there. Possibly, then, the purpose of this
section is to show that Benei
Yisrael’s encampments in the
wilderness bore intrinsic significance beyond simply bringing them closer to
their ultimate goal, of reaching the Land of Israel. Besides serving as but a means to the
end, the individual encampments were goals unto themselves, significant
achievements in their own right.
This intrinsic significance can perhaps be explained on the basis of a
passage in the Talmud Yerushalmi (Masekhet Shabbat 7:2). As the thirty-nine categories of
melakha (activities forbidden on Shabbat) are all
based on corresponding activities that were performed in the Mishkan, the Yerushalmi searched for the source of
the melakha of keshira,
tying a knot, in the Mishkan.
It suggests that this melakha
perhaps has its origins in the ropes with which the Mishkan was tied to
the ground each time Benei Yisrael encamped. This rope-tying associated with the
Mishkan’s construction might establish the model for the melakha of tying knots. However, as the Yerushalmi
notes, the Torah prohibition against tying a knot on Shabbat applies only to
tying permanent knots, as opposed to knots tied with the clear intent of being
later untied (such as shoelaces).
The ropes of the Mishkan, by definition, were tied to the ground
temporarily, as every encampment in the desert was but a temporary stop along
the nation’s journey to Eretz Yisrael. The Yerushalmi cites one Amora
who explains, “Since they encamped and journeyed in accordance with the divine
command, it was as if it was permanent.”
Then the Yerushalmi cites a second Amora as remarking that to the
contrary, “Since the Almighty promised to bring them to the land, it was as if
it was temporary.” The Yerushalmi
then proceeds to cite other possible sources for this prohibition.
Seemingly, the latter Amora’s argument is indeed compelling. Why would the divine command to encamp
lend the encampment a “permanent” quality, given the fact that God had already
informed the nation that the desert travels were geared toward their entry into
the Land of
Israel?
The answer, perhaps, lies in the intrinsic value and significance of
obeying the divine command. Once
the Almighty instructed the Israelites to encamp, without indicating any
specific duration, their encampment in that site could be said to have been
“permanent.” From the narrow
perspective of fulfilling God’s command, the people indeed encamped permanently,
without any intention of leaving.
Since at that moment their intent was to fulfill the will of God, who
ordered them to encamp, their encampment assumed a kind of “permanent” quality,
notwithstanding their realization that at some point they would continue their
journey to Eretz Yisrael.
This might explain the significance of the individual encampments as
implied by the refrain, “They traveled…and they encamped.” Each encampment bore significance
insofar as it fulfilled God’s command.
Even though on one level it served as part of the overall objective of
journeying toward the final destination, the element of tzivuy Hashem
(the divine command), by definition, lent it an intrinsic significance
irrespective of the final goal.
(Based on a sicha by the Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Aharon
Lichtenstein shelit”a, available at http://vbm-torah.org/archive/sichot/bamidbar/42-60matot.htm)
David Silverberg
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