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Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT VAYECHI

Rav David Silverberg

Parashat Vayechi records the blessings Yaakov confers upon his sons just before his death. In his blessing to Yissakhar, he describes this tribe as "a strong-boned donkey" (49:14). Rashi famously explains, based on the Midrash, that Yaakov refers here to the Torah scholarship for which the tribe of Yissakhar will be famous. As we discussed in our S.A.L.T. series last week, a verse in Divrei Hayamim I (12:33) describes the people of Yissakhar as outstanding scholars. The analogy to a donkey, as Rashi explains later in his commentary to this and the next verse, involves that animal's tireless and incessant work. A donkey obediently bears the burden placed on its back and hardly allows itself time for rest. It is therefore a fitting image by which to describe Torah scholars, who shoulder the heavy burden of the colossal corpus of Torah law, which requires incessant toil and exertion.

However, the Gemara in Masekhet Avoda Zara (5b) calls upon students of Torah to follow the example of both a donkey and an ox: "A person must always make himself with respect to words of Torah like an ox with respect to the yoke, and a donkey with respect to his burden." Wherein precisely lies the difference between these two charges – to act like a donkey and an ox?

Rav Shlomo Kluger suggests that the distinction involves the accompanying benefits derived by the given animal. An ox works hard plowing the ground, but ultimately reaps the benefits of its toil: it is given some of the food produced by this field on which it works. A donkey, however, which serves merely to transport people and goods, receives no direct benefit from its labor. Rav Kluger thus suggests that the Gemara here bids one to approach Torah learning from both perspectives – that of the ox, and that of the donkey. Like an ox, we are to recognize the immense reward awaiting us for our intensive involvement in Torah study. At the same time, however, we must approach learning like a donkey – without anticipation of reward. Though we firmly believe in our ultimate reward, this should not be the sole motivating factor behind our efforts in pursuit of Torah knowledge. Torah learning is intrinsically valuable, regardless of the future reward. We must thus approach learning from both the perspective of the ox, which ultimately eats the fruit of its labor, and the perspective of the donkey, which obediently carries out its task without any expectation of payment or reward.

Rav Yehoshua Heschel Rabinowitz, in his "Yalkut Yehoshua" (Brooklyn, 1933), suggests that these two animals – the ox and the donkey – represent two different forms of the yetzer ha-ra (evil inclination). The ox, standing tall and upright with imposing horns, symbolizes pride and arrogance, whereas a donkey, which in Hebrew is called "chamor," a word closely related to the term "chomriyut" ("physicality"), symbolizes the human being's physical drives. The Gemara here instructs that just as oxen are harnessed to a yoke and donkeys are saddled with heavy cargo, so must the human being seek to restrain his personal "ox" and "donkey." These natural, instinctive drives must be brought under control and channeled towards the purpose of observing Torah and mitzvot.

The Chafetz Chayim proposed a different explanation of this Gemara. The ox works to produce fruit and grain, whereas the donkey's task is merely to carry the produce to its final destination. These two animals thus represent the two stages of Torah scholarship. First, the student must toil to understand the material, to extract the "fruit" – the knowledge of what he studies. But his job does not end there: he must then review the material until he "carries" it with him, until it remains in his memory and is accessible to him at all times.

We might add that the "donkey" perhaps symbolizes the scholar's responsibility to "transport" his knowledge after he has "produced" it. After working as an ox to accumulate knowledge, it is then his duty to transport it – even over vast distances – to where this knowledge is needed. (Of course, this has become much easier in recent years with the advent of internet technology.) Only then – after working as both an "ox" and a "donkey"- has the scholar satisfied his obligation of Torah learning.

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Yesterday, we discussed Yaakov's deathbed blessing to Yissakhar, in which he describes this tribe as "a strong-boned donkey" (49:14). As we saw, Rashi, based on the Midrash, interpreted this metaphor as a reference to the Torah scholars that, as indicated in Sefer Divrei Hayamim I (12:33), emerged from the tribe of Yissakhar.

Other commentators, however, understand this blessing much differently, as a reference to this tribe's involvement in agriculture. The comparison to a "strong-boned donkey" is a description of the Yissakharites' physical strength, which they invested in cultivating and harvesting their lands. The second verse of this blessing reads, "He saw how good rest was, and how pleasant the land was." Several commentators, including the Rashbam and the Radak, explain this as underscoring the contrast between Yissakhar and the previous tribe discussed – Zevulun. Yaakov said about Zevulun, "Zevulun shall dwell by the seashore; he shall be a haven for ships, and his flanks shall rest on Sidon" (49:13). This blessing refers to Zevulun's vast, international commercial enterprises, which will take this tribe's people overseas on a regular basis in the pursuit of merchandise or customers. In contrast to Zevulun's international involvement and affinity for cosmopolitan hubbub, Yissakhar preferred the quiet, peaceful life of plowing, sowing and harvesting. Additionally, as the blessing concludes, Yissakhar "became a toiling serf." According to Ibn Ezra and others, this means that the men of Yissakhar would buy their way out of military service. They preferred staying at home and working their plantations, and were thus prepared to pay a percentage of their produce to the federal government in exchange for an exemption from army duty.

Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch explains along these lines Yaakov's description of Yissakhar as a donkey who "crouches between the 'mishpetayim'." The commentators offer different translations of this ambiguous word, "mishpetayim." Rav Hirsch claims that this term refers to rows of household utensils. Yissakharites are described here as "crouching," or spending their time, in between the rows of household utensils. In other words, "bein ha-mishpetayim" is the Biblical equivalent of the English phrase, "homely hearth." In contradistinction to the previous two tribes discussed – Yehuda, which produced powerful warriors and monarchs, and Zevulun, which, as we have discussed, would initiate and oversee large-scale commercial enterprises – Yissakharites prefer the quiet of their fields and homes.

Rav Hirsch emphasizes the value of leisure as represented by the Yissakhar model that Yaakov here depicts. Yissakhar, Rav Hirsch writes, "does not work to go on and on and earn more and more wealth… he does not wear himself out in the pressure of his work, he works to earn leisure for himself. He is content to allow Zevulun to earn millions with his products, prefers to stay quietly at home… " On this basis, Rav Hirsch proceeds to combine the two different approaches we have seen to this blessing to Yissakhar, as foreseeing either a tribe of farmers or a tribe of scholars. In truth, Rav Hirsch contends, the former breeds the latter. As opposed to tribes like Yehuda and Zevulun, Yissakhar enjoyed the luxury of leisure time and relaxation, time to reflect and to study. Torah knowledge and its practical applications, Rav Hirsch writes, are not acquired "by incessant application to the physical demands of life" or "by incessant application to the demands of one's business or occupation, but is only won in the quiet hours of leisure which one has earned for oneself by one's work." Naturally, then, it is the tribe of Yissakhar, which was blessed with this affinity for leisure and simplicity over endless commercial or political ambition, which produced the nation's scholars, who, in Rav Hirsch's words, were not only the cultivators of the nation's farmlands, but also "the cultivators of the spiritual treasures of the nation."

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Towards the beginning of Parashat Vayechi, Yosef hears that his father has taken seriously ill, and he brings his two sons – Efrayim and Menashe – to receive a blessing from their saintly grandfather. Yaakov bestows upon his grandsons the famous blessing of "Ha-mal'ach ha-go'el oti," which concludes with a wish of fertility: "ve-yidgu la-rov be-kerev ha-aretz" ("and may they be teeming multitudes upon the earth" – 48:16). Rashi comments that the word "ve-yidgu" (translated here – based on the JPS Bible – as "may they be teeming… ") evolves from the familiar word "dag" – fish. Yaakov thus blesses his grandchildren that they should reproduce rapidly like fish. Why does Yaakov choose specifically this creature as the model of his grandsons' desired reproduction? Rashi explains, based on the Gemara in Masekhet Berakhot (20a), that the fish spend their lives concealed underwater, and are thus free from the effects of the "ayin ha-ra" ("evil eye"). Yaakov thus wishes Efrayim and Menashe that they, too, should be fertile but remain out of the harmful grasp of the ayin ha'ra. Likewise, in Yaakov's deathbed blessing to Yosef himself, he describes his son as "ben porat alei ayin" – which Rashi explains to mean, "a fertile son, beyond the grasp of the ayin ha-ra."

Why do fish enjoy immunity from the ayin ha-ra by living underwater, and how does this blessing relate to Yosef and his descendants?

Rav Eliyahu Baruch Shulman of Yeshiva University cites and develops the following approach of Rav Kook zt"l (see www.yutorah.org/showshiur.cfm?shiurID=706342). The concept of "ayin ha-ra" is generally understood as a mystical idea by which feelings of jealousy or contempt towards a person's success somehow threatens to reverse that person's fortune. Rav Kook explained the idea of "ayin ha-ra" somewhat differently. People are generally very sensitive and attuned to what others feel about them. How we are perceived by those around us – even by people we don't know – has a profound effect on the way we conduct ourselves. When someone harbors feelings of envy or resentment towards a person, that person will very likely detect these feelings and become uncomfortable. This discomfort, Rav Kook explained, is what Chazal call the "ayin ha-ra." It is the tension and uneasiness we experience when we feel that somebody looks upon us resentfully. This experience has a significant effect on how we act and has a more general effect upon social life in general.

How does one avoid this "ayin ha-ra"? Generally, it is advised that we try not to flaunt our success or speak too openly about our blessings and achievements. But, as Rav Kook explains, a person can also make himself entirely immune to the ayin ha-ra, by concentrating more on the propriety of his conduct then on how others perceive him. A person who overly concerns himself with how others feel towards him is subject to the harmful effects of the ayin ha-ra. But someone who manages to focus his attention on doing the right thing and finding peace with himself, rather than doing what will make other people act kindly towards him, can escape the grip of the ayin ha-ra.

This, perhaps, explains what the Gemara means by its remark that fish are not subject to the ayin ha-ra. Fish spend their entire lives undersea, and thus have no interest, so-to-speak, in what transpires on dry land. They enjoy their own, separate realm and thus remain detached and disinterested in the affairs of the rest of the world. This existence accurately symbolizes the life of a person who succeeds in escaping the ayin ha-ra. Not that such a person isolates himself from society, but to some extent, he remains within his own world of values and ideals. Like the fish's attitude to what occurs on land, such a person maintains an independent domain within which he operates and makes his decisions. He is thus undisturbed by any feelings of resentment harbored by other people towards him.

Rav Kook claims that this approach also explains why, as the Gemara comments, Yosef was not subject to the ayin ha-ra. Though young and impressionable when he suddenly found himself in a foreign land, Yosef retained his independent identity and realm of ideals. Had he been like most people, who inordinately concern themselves with how they are viewed by others, he could not have possibly remained loyal to his father's teachings during his twenty-two years of isolation from his family. How could such a young man maintain his fealty to his faith while spending so many years in a country with no one else who subscribes to this belief system? The answer is that Yosef was like a fish living deep in the ocean waters, without any concern for what transpires on dry land. He never lost his own, individual "ocean," where he can live according to his own ideals and ignore the reactions of those around him.

This, then, is the key to overcoming the ayin ha-ra: to maintain for oneself a private "ocean," where he can live his life as he deems appropriate, without overly concerning himself with what others think of him.

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Parashat Vayechi begins with Yaakov's request of his son, Yosef, to bring his remains to Canaan after his death, rather than burying him in Egypt. Yosef replies, "I will do as you have spoken" (47:30). The Midrash Ha-gadol, citing Rabbi Meir, cites this verse as a Biblical source for the halakha of, "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit" – it is a mitzva to fulfill the wishes articulated by a person as he prepares to die. Likewise, the work "Derashot Ibn Shu'ib" cites the Ramban as deriving from this parasha ten different laws relevant to death and bereavement, one of them being "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit." On the other hand, Tosefot in Masekhet Gittin (86a) classify this mitzva as a mitzva de-rabbanan (rabbinically mandated obligation), and this indeed appears to be the consensus among the authorities. Most likely, as Rav Menachem Kasher asserts in his Torah Sheleima (chapter 47, footnote 126), the Midrash Ha-gadol (and the Ramban) approached this verse as an "asmakhta" – an allusion in the Torah to a law instituted by Chazal, rather than as an actual source for the obligation.

Nevertheless, the Midrash's consideration of this verse as a secondary source of this halakha might have important ramifications concerning its scope. The Sefer Chasidim (720-721) explicitly limits the halakha of "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit" to matters concerning the distribution of the individual's assets. His wishes concerning any other matters are not subject to this halakha, and hence his inheritors are not bound by his requests or demands involving these matters. The Sefer Chasidim records an incident of a person who before his death asked that his remains be brought to a certain, distant location for interment. However, his death occurred on a particularly hot summer day, and his son was advised that the body would decay well before he arrived at the desired location. The Sefer Chasidim ruled that the son was obligated to bury his father in the present location, rather than transporting the remains to the place specified by his father, which would result in the body's decomposition before burial. Since this request did not involve monetary issues, "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit" does not apply.

The Sefer Chasidim quite clearly did not accept Rabbi Meir's position in the Midrash Ha-gadol, that Yosef's compliance with Yaakov's burial wishes expresses the halakha of "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit." The Midrash Ha-gadol apparently extends this halakha even beyond the specific context of monetary matters, to include issues such as place of burial.

This view of the Sefer Chasidim is strongly upheld by a later posek – the "Shevut Yaakov" (C.M. 168), who, without citing the Sefer Chasidim, likewise contends that the mitzva to fulfill one's deathbed wishes applies only to matters involving his estate. The "Shevut Yaakov" addresses a situation of a woman who, just prior to her death, instructs her sons that any monetary dispute that arises among them should be brought to a specific person for arbitration. At her behest, the two brothers shook hands in her presence, affirming their formal acceptance of the named arbiter's appointment. After her death, however, one of the brothers refused to abide by the agreement, claiming that he had accepted it only to avoid causing grief to his ailing mother, and it is thus not halakhically binding. Irrespective of his handshake with his brother, would this brother be obligated to accept the appointed arbiter by virtue of the halakha, "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit"? The "Shevut Yaakov" argues that this halakha applies only to issues involving he deceased's assets, and therefore the son bears no obligation to accept the appointed arbiter by virtue of this halakha. Nevertheless, the "Shevut Yaakov" adds, although fulfilling a dying person's wishes regarding other matters does not constitute an outright obligation, it does involve a noble measure of piety, and the brothers' handshake – even under these circumstances – binds him to this agreement.

Ironically enough, the "Shevut Yaakov" draws support for his position from the conversation between Yaakov and Yosef at the beginning of Parashat Vayechi – the very verses which, in light of the Midrash Ha-gadol, appear to directly contradict his view. In asking his son to bury his remains in Canaan, Yaakov insists that he take an oath to this effect. Why, asks the "Shevut Yaakov," would Yaakov require Yosef to take an oath, if he is already bound by the obligation of "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit"? The answer, he argues, must be that this obligation does not apply, since the issue at hand – place of interment – does not involve the distribution of Yaakov's assets.

However, as Rav Kasher notes, this proof is hardly compelling. The early commentators already discuss the purpose behind this oath, and raised two possible explanations (both of which are mentioned by the Ramban). Firstly, Yaakov knew that Pharaoh might forbid Yosef from leaving Egypt to bury his father; by soliciting an oath, Yaakov made it more difficult for Pharaoh to force Yosef to deny his father's wish, which would entail the violation of an oath. Additionally, Yaakov may have felt, quite simply, that Yosef would exert himself to a greater extent to ensure compliance with Yaakov's request if a formal vow was at stake.

The "Shevut Yaakov" suggests yet another proof for his theory, from a different account in Parashat Vayechi. After Yaakov's death, Yosef's brothers fear that he will now repay them for their mistreatment of him. They therefore send him a message claiming that Yaakov had issued the following instruction before his death: "So shall you say to Yosef, 'Forgive, I ask, the offense and guilt of your brothers who treated you so harshly'" (50:17). This formulation that the brothers attribute to Yaakov seems to indicate that the patriarch begged Yosef to forgive his brothers. Why would such entreaty be necessary, if the halakha of "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit" requires Yosef to abide by his father's requests? Apparently, the "Shevut Yaakov" claims, this halakha would not apply to this request, since it does not relate to the financial matters concerning Yaakov's assets.

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Yesterday, we discussed the possible connection between the halakha of "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit" – the obligation to fulfill one's wishes expressed in anticipation of death – and the opening verses of Parashat Vayechi. As Yaakov senses that his end draws near, he summons his son, Yosef, and asks that he bring his remains to Canaan for burial, rather than burying him in Egypt. Yosef promises to fulfill Yaakov's wish, and the Midrash Ha-gadol considers this commitment a source – or at least an allusion – to the halakha of "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit." This comment of the Midrash Ha-gadol, as we discussed, appears to indicate that this halakha applies to all matters, even to those that do not involve the distribution of the deceased's assets. As we saw, however, the Sefer Chasidim and, later, the "Shevut Yaakov," limit this obligation to issues involving the estate, in opposition to this passage in the Midrash Ha-gadol.

In truth, this question concerning the scope of "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit" appears to be subject to a debate among the Rishonim. Most Rishonim, including Tosefot (Gittin 13a), the Rosh (Gittin 1:15) and the Ran (Gittin 5a in the Rif), limit this obligation to situations where the individual transferred the given sum of money to a third party with specific instructions concerning its distribution after his death. Only in such a case, these Rishonim claim, do we apply the rule of "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit." (This is the ruling of the Shulchan Arukh – C.M. 252:2). Clearly, these Rishonim maintain that this halakha relates specifically to financial matters concerning the estate. By contrast, the Ritva, in one of his responsa (cited by the Beit Yosef, ibid.), follows the position of the Ra'a, who extends this halakha to include any instructions conveyed directly to a person capable of executing them. Anytime someone gives instructions to be fulfilled after his death, the halakha of "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit" applies, provided that the instructions were given to a person with the capacity to carry them out. Seemingly, the Ra'a and Ritva do not limit this halakha to monetary issues involving the estate; in their view, it can apply even to other matters, such as burial, resolution of family disputes, and so on.

The Noda Bi-Yehuda (Mahadura Tanina, E.H. 45) discusses this debate in the context of a situation involving a man who, before his death, gave strict instructions to his wife not to allow their daughter to marry a certain man who had been strongly recommended for her. Would "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit" require the widow to attempt to block the match, despite the fact that, given the family's dire financial situation, this match represented the girl's only hope for a viable marriage? At first glance, this might depend on the aforementioned debate. According to the majority view, of course, "mitzva le-kayei divrei ha-meit" would not apply at all to this instruction of the deceased, since it did not pertain to his assets. According to the Ritva, however, perhaps we would apply this rule. In truth, however, as the Noda Bi-Yehuda notes, even the Ritva would not require the mother to interfere with the proposed match. Recall that the Ritva hinged the applicability of this halakha on the listener's capability to carry out the individual's instructions. In this case, the widow, who received the instruction from her husband, does not have the legal right or power to block this marriage. A grown girl does not require her parents' consent to marry, and thus this instruction is not subject to the law of "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit."

What more, as the Noda Bi-yehuda points out, according to all views "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit" cannot apply to matters that do not personally affect the deceased. Quite obviously, if a person instructs his friend that after his death he should pay a certain sum of money to somebody else, this instruction is not binding. Therefore, in this case, the father's instructions concerning his daughter's marriage have no validity. Since this decision is between her and her intended, it remains outside the parameters of "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit," and the widow has no obligation whatsoever to interfere with the proposed match.

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As we've discussed over the last two days, Parashat Vayechi begins with Yaakov's request to his son, Yosef, to bring his remains to Eretz Canaan for burial after his death. After Yosef expresses his consent, Yaakov instructs his son to take an oath promising that he will fulfill this wish.

Several writers have raised the question as to the halakhic significance of this oath. The Gemara in Masekhet Nedarim (8a) states explicitly that an oath taken to fulfill or violate a law in the Torah has no validity; the halakhot of oaths and vows relate specifically to voluntary measures taken upon oneself. A Torah law is independently binding and needs no further affirmation through the utterance of an oath. Therefore, an oath to fulfill a law of the Torah does not, at first glance, add any further dimension to one's obligation with respect to that law. The question arises, then, as to the purpose behind the oath Yosef takes to fulfill his father's wish of a burial in Canaan. After all, it would appear that even without an oath Yosef bore an obligation to fulfill this wish. According to the Midrash Ha-gadol, as we discussed over the last two days, Yosef was bound by the principle of "mitzva le-kayeim divrei ha-meit" – one is obligated to fulfill a person's wishes expressed in anticipation of his death. And even according to the view that this rule applies only with regard to requests concerning the deceased's financial affairs, Yosef was presumably obligated to obey his father by virtue of the mitzva of "kibbud av va-eim" (honoring parents). Or, more precisely, Yosef would be obligated on the basis of the obligation of "mora av" – reverence towards parents. Rabbi Akiva Eiger (responsa, 68) writes that the mitzva of "kibbud av va-eim" as it applies to obeying one's parents' wishes does not apply after a parent's death. Nevertheless, one must still obey his parent's wishes after death due to the obligation of "mora." In any event, the question arises, what did Yaakov gain by having Yosef promise on oath that he would bury his remains in Canaan, if an oath made with respect to a mitzva has no halakhic import?

As we mentioned yesterday, several commentators (including the Ramban, Or Ha-chayim and Seforno) explain that this oath was not at all intended to add to Yosef's incentive to comply with Yaakov's wish. After all, we should expect that Yosef would loyally exert himself to the utmost to fulfill his father's wish even without an oath. Rather, the oath served to help ensure that Pharaoh would grant Yosef permission to leave Egypt for this purpose, of burying his father. Once Yosef's failure to bury Yaakov in Canaan would constitute a breach of an oath, it would be difficult for Pharaoh to deny permission to carry out the request.

However, the Ramban also suggests that the oath added a further dimension to Yosef's obligation in this regard and helped ensure his compliance. The question, then, returns: what dimension would this oath add, if it has no halakhic significance?

Several different answers may be suggested. Firstly, according to some Rishonim, an oath taken with regard to a mitzva does, in fact, have halakhic import. The Ran in Masekhet Nedarim maintains that the prohibition against violating oaths indeed applies to an oath taken to fulfill a mitzva. When the Gemara stated that such an oath does not have the formal status of a halakhic "shevu'a" (oath), it referred only to the obligation to bring the "korban oleh ve-yored" sacrifice in the case of unintentional violation (see Vayikra 5). With respect to all other halakhot of oaths, however, an oath to fulfill a mitzva is a full-fledged shevu'a. According to the Ran, then, the oath taken by Yosef certainly added a further dimension to his obligation. Furthermore, the Rambam (Hilkhot Shevu'ot 5:16) writes that one who takes an oath to fulfill a mitzva and fails to do so violates the prohibition of "shevu'at shav" – taking a meaningless oath. (The Radbaz, however, understands that the Rambam refers only to the converse situation – of one who promises to violate a mitzva and fails to do so.) According to this view, too, Yosef's oath provided further incentive for him to fulfill Yaakov's wish.

Furthermore, as the Gemara establishes, the reason why an oath to fulfill a mitzva does not assume the formal, halakhic status of a "shevu'a" is because "mushba ve-omed hu mei-Har Sinai" – a Jew is already under oath with respect to the mitzvot ever since the Torah was given at Sinai. At Ma'amad Har Sinai, Am Yisrael collectively swore to observe the Torah; therefore, an oath to fulfill a mitzva simply repeats a preexisting oath, and hence has no formal halakhic status. Presumably, then, before the Torah was given, even the patriarchs and Yaakov's twelve sons – who, as we generally assume, observed the Torah – could, indeed, take an oath with regard to a mitzva. Since they had not previously sworn to abide by the Torah's laws, an oath taken to perform a given mitzva would take effect.

Finally, the Maharil Diskin suggests that Yaakov specifically formulated his wish as a request, rather than as a command, in order to allow for the oath to take effect. Yaakov asks, "Do me this favor… Please do not bury me in Egypt" (47:29), rather than instructing, "Do not bury me in Egypt." For had he commanded Yosef to bury him in Canaan, then Yosef would be bound by the mitzva of "kibbud av," and hence the oath would not be valid. Since Yaakov wanted that Yosef would bear this obligation on the level of an oath, rather than as an ordinary mitzva, he specifically asked, rather than commanded, so that the mitzva of "kibbud av" would not apply. Once the mitzva did not apply, Yosef's oath could formally take effect.

Of course, the Maharil Diskin's approach assumes that a fulfilling a parent's request, as opposed to obeying his command, does not fall under the mitzva of "kibbud av" – an interesting issue in its own right, which requires independent treatment in a different context.

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We read in Parashat Vayechi that Yaakov bequeaths to Yosef "shekhem echad al achekha" – literally, "an extra portion over your brothers" (48:22). Two general approaches to this verse appear in the classic commentators, and Rashi himself cites both possibilities. One approach claims that the word "shekhem" here actually refers to the city of Shekhem, which Yaakov grants to Yosef's progeny. The other view maintains that Yaakov refers to the birthright, which entailed a double portion. As we know from Sefer Divrei Hayamim I (5:1-2), Yosef earned the birthright and thus formed two of the twelve tribes of Israel – Efrayim and Menashe. According to the second view, it is to this extra portion that Yaakov refers in this verse.

From Rashi's commentary it emerges that these two approaches to the word "shekhem" in this verse will affect as well the verse's concluding clause. Yaakov promises Yosef an extra portion "which I wrested from the Emorites with my sword and bow." Meaning, the "portion" to which Yaakov here refers is a piece of territory that he seized militarily from the Emorites. Rashi explains that according to the first interpretation, which identifies the word "shekhem" as the city of Shekhem, Yaakov speaks of a battle waged in the area of Shekhem when the surrounding peoples attacked Yaakov to avenge the massacre in Shekhem perpetrated by his sons (see Bereishit, chapter 34). According to the second interpretation, however, this "portion" refers to the birthright, which Yaakov won from his brother, Esav. Since this seizure of the birthright did not occur through military conflict, Rashi – based on the Midrash – must resort to a novel reading of the words "be-charbi u-ve-kashti" ("with my sword and bow"). Rashi interprets this phrase as an allegorical reference to "chokhmato u-tefilato" – his Torah knowledge and prayer. It was through his spiritual superiority over his brother, rather than military combat, that he earned the birthright.

Surprisingly, Targum Onkelos, which generally presents a very literal Aramaic translation of the Biblical text and rarely deviates from the literal meaning, also resorts to the Midrashic reading of this verse, albeit in a slightly different vein. (Although, there are different versions of Onkelos' translation to this verse.) Onkelos translates "be-charbi u-ve-kashti" as "bi-tzloti u-ve-va'uti" – "with my prayer and petition." Onkelos follows the second, allegorical approach to this phrase, only as opposed to Rashi, who understood "be-charbi u-ve-kashti" as Torah study and prayer, Onkelos interpreted both terms as references to prayer. What prompted Onkelos to uncharacteristically deviate from the straightforward reading is, presumably, the fact that he understood the word "shekhem" in this verse to mean "portion," rather than as a reference to the city of Shekhem. Thus, as mentioned earlier, this verse refers to the birthright, which Yaakov never fought for militarily. Onkelos therefore had no choice but to adopt the allegorical interpretation of the phrase "be-charbi u-ve-kashti."

How are we to understand the difference between the two terms mentioned by Onkelos – "tzloti" and "ba'uti"? To what do these two different types of "prayer" refer?

Rav Velvele Soloveitchik suggested that "tzloti" means the fixed liturgy established by the Anshei Kenesset Ha-gedola ("Men of the Great Assembly," towards the beginning of the Second Commonwealth), whereas "ba'uti" refers to one's personal prayer that he himself initiates. This distinction, Rav Velvele added, helps explain why "tzloti" is metaphorically described as "charbi" – a sword, whereas "ba'uti" is represented by "kashti" – a bow. A sword inflicts injury upon contact independently, even without a forceful thrust. An arrow, by contrast, injures only as a result of the force applied by the archer. Similarly, Rav Velvele claimed, the liturgical text composed by the Anshei Kenesset Ha-gedola is independently effective, irrespective of the spiritual stature of the worshipper. It works like a sword, which pierces upon contact even without substantial manual effort. The efficacy of a personal prayer, however, requires manual input; it depends on the merit of the person praying. For this reason, tradition encourages one to ask a righteous person pray on behalf of his ill relative, for example, because the acceptance of prayers that were not established by the Anshei Kenesset Ha-gedola hinges on the worshipper's stature.

The Meshekh Chokhma likewise explains "tzloti" and "ba'uti" as references to these different categories of prayer. He, however, claims that the difference involves not the merits of the worshipper, but rather the kavana (concentration) required. When it comes to the fixed prayers, Halakha establishes that one fulfills his obligation so long as he concentrated on the words of the opening section of shemoneh esrei ("avot"). Needless to say, one should endeavor to concentrate intensely through the entire prayer service. However, one's prayer is halakhically valid even without concentration, provided that the individual recited the opening section of shemoneh esrei with kavana. Personal prayers, by contrast, are worthless without kavana. Like the arrow, they depend on the person's effort, without which they have no effect. When uttering prayers other than those instituted by the Anshei Kenesset Ha-gedola, one must concentrate on what he is saying, for otherwise they will not yield the desired effect.