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Sefer Devarim differs from the previous four chumashim in that the Torah's "narrator" speaks very little, as it were, in this sefer. It consists almost entirely of transcripts of monologues delivered by Moshe prior to his death. Does this mark any fundamental distinction between this and the previous four sefarim?

The Maggid of Dubno, in his work, "Ohel Yaakov," records an interesting exchange he had with his rabbi, the Vilna Gaon. The Maggid inquired as to the essential difference between Sefer Devarim and the other four books of the Torah. The Vilna Gaon answered that the first four books were presented by the Almighty Himself as He "spoke" through Moshe's voice, as it were. Sefer Devarim, by contrast, was heard in the same manner as the prophecies of subsequent prophets. God first delivered the prophecy to the prophet, and the latter would, at some later point, convey the words to the people. The Shekhina thus did not directly teach Sefer Devarim through Moshe as it did the first four books. Rather, God transmitted the material to Moshe who later passed it on to Benei Yisrael.

Other sources would seem to dispute this view and equate Sefer Devarim with the other four chumashim. Commenting on Devarim 28:23, Rashi cites Chazal's distinction between the "tokhecha" (description of curses threatened to befall Benei Yisrael should they disobey the Torah) in Sefer Devarim and that in Sefer Vayikra. Whereas the Almighty Himself outlines the curses of Sefer Vayikra, those in Devarim were stated by Moshe. The Maharal of Prague, in his work, Gur Aryeh, clarifies that this does not imply that Moshe independently depicted the curses. Rather, the Almighty told him to present the "tokhecha" and then confirmed each word spoken by Moshe. The Maharal claims that this system is not unique to the "tokhecha." The entire Torah was either spoken by God through Moshe or by Moshe with divine consent. In this light he explains the distinction between the two "tokhechot": God Himself directly conveyed the curses in Vayikra, whereas Moshe stated those in Devarim with the Almighty's approval. But this does not mark any unique characteristic of this section or Sefer Devarim in general. Apparently, the Maharal does not accept the distinction drawn by the Vilna Gaon. (Though in Tiferet Yisrael chapter 43 the Maharal does, in fact, appear to present this distinction.) The Ramban, in his commentary to Vayikra 26:16, seems to adopt this approach to understanding the difference between the two "tokhechot." Rashi in Masekhet Megila (31b), however, seems to imply that Moshe composed the "tokhecha" in Devarim independently, in line with the Vilna Gaon's theory.

Another important source relevant to this issue is the Gemara in Masekhet Sanhedrin 99a, which deems heretical the notion that Moshe himself wrote even a single letter of the Torah on his own. The Vilna Gaon would presumably explain this as rejecting the idea that Moshe the human being, as opposed to Moshe the prophet, introduced part of the Torah. In truth, Moshe wrote Sefer Devarim as a prophetic work, with absolute "ru'ach ha-kodesh" ("divine spirit"). This is very far from suggesting that Moshe composed this book with nothing more than basic human intuition.

Nevertheless, Rav Yaakov Emden, in his "hagahot" to Masekhet Sanhedrin, views this Gemara as proof against any distinction between Devarim and the previous four books. Every letter of the Torah, he contends, was conveyed from the Shekhina through Moshe's throat.

One final source we will cite is the comments of Rabbeinu Bechayei on our parasha. He likens the five chumashim to the four species taken on Sukkot. Though one does not fulfill the mitzva if he does not have even one of the four, only three of the them must be bound together. The etrog, as we know, is held together with the other three but is not wrapped together with them. Similarly, claims Rabbeinu Bechayei, Sefer Devarim is certainly an integral part of Chumash, just as the etrog plays an indispensable role in the mitzva of the four species. However, it is not "bound together" with the other four sefarim; somehow, it remains distinct.

We leave it to the reader to consider the deeper meaning and significance behind this analogy.

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Yesterday we looked at several sources regarding the issue of a possible, essential distinction between Sefer Devarim and the previous four books of the Torah. We continue this discussion today with a look at one halakhic difference between Devarim and the other books, one mentioned already in the Gemara. The Talmud in several places cites a dispute among the tanna'im as to whether to afford exegetical significance to the juxtaposition between different verses. Meaning, can we reach halakhic conclusions based on the textual association between two adjacent verses? All opinions agree, however, that we can reach conclusions based on the juxtaposition between verses in Sefer Devarim. While Tosafot (Yevamot 4a) struggle to find the basis for such a distinction, the Ra'avan (34; cited by Rav Betzalel Ronshberg there in Yevamot) explains that Moshe Rabbeinu himself arranged the sequence in Sefer Devarim. While we cannot reach conclusions based on the sequence of the previous four sefarim, in which Moshe played no role beyond pure transmission, we may do so in Sefer Devarim, where Moshe arranged the parshiyot. (This brings to mind the theory of the Vilna Gaon discussed yesterday.)

In that same piece, the Ra'avan, consistent with his explanation, suggests that this principle of affording significance to textual juxtaposition also applies to a slightly different issue, that of "seder mukdam u-me'uchar ba-Torah." Meaning, do the parshiyot in the Torah necessarily follow chronological sequence? Generally speaking, as mentioned in several places in the Gemara, we do not assume chronological order in the Biblical narrative (though a major controversy exists between Rashi and Ramban as to the extent of this principle). However, claims the Ra'avan, such sequence can be assumed within Sefer Devarim. Several Acharonim have noted that Tosafot in Masekhet Berakhot (14b) clearly do not accept this distinction; they maintain that even within Sefer Devarim we cannot assume a chronological presentation.

This dispute between Tosafot and the Ra'avan may actually yield halakhic ramifications. The Maharsham (Rav Shalom Mordekhai Shvadron, 19^th-early 20^th century, Poland - 1:213) raises this issue in his treatment of a seemingly unrelated question that came before him. Halakha requires one to review the weekly parasha every Shabbat "shenayim mikra ve'echad targum" - twice reading the parasha and once with commentary. (Problematically, many people do not observe this halakha. The reasons for this neglect are unclear, but this lies beyond the scope of our discussion.) According to most views, one who missed one parasha may make it up subsequently, possibly until the following Simchat Torah. In such a situation, which parasha should the individual read first - the current parashat ha-shavua, or the parasha he had missed? The Maharsham notes the two conflicting interests that come into play. On the one hand, natural preference should be given to the parashat ha-shavua, as that constitutes the currently pressing obligation. On the other hand, we do not want to reverse the sequence of the Torah. In truth, he notes, the latter concern never really arises, since, as we saw, the Torah does not necessarily follow chronological sequence. It therefore should not concern us if one reads the parshyiot out of order. However, according to the Ra'avan, Sefer Devarim does follow strict chronological sequence. As such, one should not recite the parshiyot of Sefer Devarim out of order. Thus, writes the Maharsham, the halakha of one who missed a parasha in Sefer Devarim would depend on this dispute betTosafot and the Ra'avan.

In the end, however, the Maharsham rules that irrespective of this debate, one should afford precedence to the parashat ha-shavua. He compares this situation to a case of one who missed a prayer and must therefore recite shemoneh esrei twice at the following prayer service. In such an instance, one must have in mind that the second tefila fulfills the missed obligation, while the first fulfills the obligation of that period. (Thus, one reciting mincha twice for having mistakenly missed shacharit must intend for the first shemoneh esrei to fulfill the obligation of mincha, and the second that of shacharit.) Similarly, one who misses one week of "shenayim mikra" should make it up only after first reviewing the parashat ha-shavua.

For practical guidance, please consult a competent halakhic authority.

(Sources for today's and yesterday's editions of S.A.L.T. were taken from Pardeis Yosef He-chadash on Parashat Devarim.)

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Among the first topics Moshe covers in his final monologue to Benei Yisrael, recorded in Sefer Devarim, is his establishment of a judicial network. In response to the overwhelming number of legal cases brought before him, Moshe decided to delegate judicial duties rather than handling them single-handedly. After recalling this incident, Moshe notes that the nation expressed full consent to the new program (Devarim 1:14). Rashi comments that this remark was actually intended as criticism: "You decided in this matter for your own interests; you should have responded, 'Moshe our teacher! From whom is more pleasant to learn, from you or your students? Not from you, who caused yourself distress over it [the Torah]?' However, I knew what you were thinking. You figured, 'Now many judges will be appointed over us; if he [a given magistrate] does not know us, we can bring him a gift and he will favor us."

This passage in Rashi provides much food for thought and discussion, but we will focus here on one subtle, terminological nuance observed by Rav Moshe Feinstein zt"l (cited in Kol Ram, vol. 3). Moshe Rabbeinu claims that Benei Yisrael should have preferred him because of the "distress" he experienced as a result of his exertion in Torah. Interestingly, notes Rav Moshe, his incredible knowledge was not the critical consideration. What more, no mention is made here of his having been the greatest of all prophets! And what about his having studied the entire Torah directly from the Almighty? Should not that have been the primary reason for Benei Yisrael's preference of Moshe over any subsidiary magistrate?

Rav Moshe explains that from here we see Moshe Rabbeinu's perspective on what makes the ideal educator. Knowledge is of far less importance, he suggests, than the preparedness to exert effort. A teacher who acquired knowledge - even vast amounts - effortlessly will not impact upon his students as effectively as one who labored and toiled for his scholarship. Even in a judicial context, where the litigants come to hear the halakhic ruling of their case, they should long for a judge who best represents the ideal of "yegi'a," persistent effort in the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom.

We may humbly suggest a different explanation to Moshe's comments as presented by Rashi. In telling the people how they should have responded to his delegation of powers, Moshe entered a situation whereby he would have to compliment himself. He had to carefully consider how to portray the desired response of the people's yearning for direct study under him. Moshe, the humblest of men, downplayed his innate characteristics and stressed the exertion required to arrive where he did. In this way, he "incidentally" conveys yet another critical message to the people: an individual is judged not by his achievements, but by the effort invested. Just as Moshe prided himself only on his hard work and not on his unparalleled accomplishments, so must we focus on working towards our goals, no matter how far away from them we may seem.

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As we discussed yesterday, Parashat Devarim recounts Moshe's appointment of judges over Benei Yisrael. Moshe bids them, "Do not fear anyone, for judgment belongs to God" (1:17). The Sifrei derives from this verse a prohibition against a judge's refusal to adjudicate a case in fear of one of the litigants. The Rambam cites the following passage from the Sifrei: "Perhaps you will say, I am afraid from so-and-so, lest he kill me or my son, lest he set fire to my field or lest he cut down my plants? The verse thus states, 'Do not fear anyone.'" Thus, a judge must remain "on the bench" even in the face of intimidation. (We should note that, as the Taz explains, this prohibition applies only after the judge decided to accept a given trial, or if he holds a public position as magistrate. A judge who does not hold a position and is asked to hear a trial may refuse if he fears the repercussions.)

The Bach (C.M. 12) raises a rather straightforward question regarding this halakha: since when must an individual risk his life for a mitzva (other than three "cardinal sins" of idolatry, adultery and murder)? What ever happened to the overarching concern of "piku'ach nefesh," preserving life? How could halakha require a judge to endanger his or a relative's life in order to hear a case? The Bach thus demonstrates that Rashi disputes the Rambam's ruling and limits this prohibition to cases of a "tough" litigant, but certainly not one who poses a reasonable threat to the judge's life. Rav Kook zt"l (Be'er Eliyahu, C.M. 12) claims that no dispute exists between Rashi and the Rambam in this regard. Even the Rambam did not actually intend to apply this prohibition in cases of danger to life. Rather, he speaks of cases involving a threatening litigant who speaks in very harsh terms - including exaggerated "death threats" - but who would not actually attempt to take the life of a judge who rules against him.

A minority of Acharonim, however, prohibit a judge from withdrawing even in face of a threat to his life. The Zekan Aharon and Moznayim Le-Mishpat consider withdrawing from judgment tantamount to a rejection of the Torah, as the judge submits to his fear of man rather than trusting in the Almighty. Such a violation, which involves uprooting the fundamentals of our faith, would indeed demand compliance even in a life-threatening situation. As stated, however, this represents the minority view of the Acharonim.

(Taken from Rav Binyamin Tabory's column, "Ha-Mitzvah She-Beparasha" in Shabbat Be-Shabbato, Shabbat Parashat Devarim 5760)

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Commenting on Devarim 1:3, Rashi writes that Moshe intentionally refrained from rebuking Benei Yisrael until the final weeks of his life, when he addressed them as recorded in Sefer Devarim. Rashi proceeds to list four reasons why one should administer rebuke only in his waning moments. Many later commentators struggled to understand Rashi's comments. Earlier, in Sefer Vayikra (19:17), the Torah explicitly commands offering constructive criticism, known as the mitzva of "tokhacha." How can Rashi advise delaying the performance of this obligation until the very end of one's life?

Many answers have been offered; we will look at just a few.

Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson (in Divrei Shaul, Mahadura Tanina) answers with an insightful distinction between two different types of rebuke: specific and general. In the first instance, one criticizes a specific action or inaction of another. By general rebuke we mean speaking to one's fellow about the importance of proper conduct and Torah observance. These two forms of rebuke generally elicit very different responses. When criticized directly for a given wrong, a person generally reacts defensively and defiantly. Human nature is to resist direct condemnation. When, however, one hears general comments about what people should or should not do, a greater chance exists that he will take the message to heart and apply it to his own conduct.

With this distinction in mind, Rav Nathanson resolves the difficulty in Rashi's comments. The latter, general form of rebuke may and must be administered bqualified individuals to those who have acted wrongly. These people must be exposed to inspiring words of guidance from which they can draw conclusions for their own behavior. The specific type, however, is best reserved for the end of one's life. Before one's passing, his loves ones are likely to respond favorably to his words and treat them with a degree of seriousness and respect. This is the time - and the only time - for direct criticism.

A similar resolution is suggested by the Maharam Shif (in "Derushim Nechmadim"). He writes that the standard obligation of "tokhacha" must be performed through subtle allusions, rather than direct, explicit rebuke. Rashi here referred to overt criticism, which should be delivered only at the end of one's life.

A different answer appears in the book Moshav Zekeinim, a collection of writings by the Ba'alei Ha-Tosafot (the Tosafists) on the Torah. There a distinction is drawn between the time immediately following the transgression and later periods. The mitzva of "tokhacha" requires administering rebuke at the moment a transgression is committed. After time has passed, however, one should not criticize until prior to one's passing.

The Pardeis Yosef He-chadash suggests a different distinction, between criticism of an individual and that of a community. The basic obligation of "tokhacha" applies only to individuals, to reprimand them for their wrongdoing. Chastising an entire group, however, should not be done until the very end of the leader's life.

In conclusion, we should note the basic thread shared by all these theories: they seek to determine the most effective system by which to administer rebuke. This reflects the tension between two interests. On the one hand, criticism is a necessary means for improvement and growth. A person will never work on himself if he never listens to his peers' observations of his conduct. On the other hand, criticism often leads to embarrassment on the part of the recipient and arrogance and supremacy on the part of the one criticizing. The inherent problems of criticism undermine its very value, as an insulting or self-aggrandizing remark can hardly bring about the desired effect. The discussion we presented marks an attempt to arrive at a set of guidelines to help ensure the greatest possible effect while avoiding tension and ill-will.

*****

In Parashat Devarim, Moshe recounts his having established an intricate judicial network. He recalls that in setting out to select judges, he looked for people who were "chakhamim," "nevonim" and "yedu'im le-shivteikhem," generally translated as, "wise, intelligent, and well-known among your tribes" (1:13). Rashi, however, presents an ambiguous translation for "chakhamim," the first of these three qualities: "kesufim." The Maharal of Prague, in his Gur Aryeh on Rashi's commentary, as well the Netziv in his He'amek Davar, confess to having no sufficient explanation of this word. Other Acharonim have made attempts at an explanation, trying to identify the etymology of the word "kesufim" itself and its relationship to the word it describes, "chakhamim," which usually denotes wisdom. We present here several of these attempts, as recorded in Pardeis Yoseif He-chadash, and hopefully we will gain an appreciation of the qualifications Moshe Rabbeinu demanded from the nation's judiciary.

The Taz (in Divrei David Turei Zahav) associates this word with Lavan's comments to Yaakov after the latter fled: "ki nikhsof nikhsafta le-veit avikha" - "you surely longed for your father's home." He thus suggests that the word connotes a sense of love and affection, as a child feels for his parents. Thus, in our context Moshe refers to people who have earned the friendship of many others. The Taz proceeds to find basis for an etymological relationship between "chakham" and love, noting that the verb "y.d.a" appears in both contexts, as meaning intelligence and love. As the Pardeis Yoseif points out, however, this explanation is far from straightforward. The Maharal's brother, in his Be'eir Mayim Chayim, likewise interprets "kesufim" as "nice people," but offers no basis for this approach.

The Chatam Sofer similarly interprets the term "kesufim" to mean longing and yearning, but applies this definition here much differently than did the Taz. He claims that Moshe here refers to people who longed for knowledge. One who sincerely pursues wisdom out of a genuine desire to acquire it, is automatically considered "chakham."

The Siftei Chakhamim on this verse and Rabbi Akiva Eiger (in his "hagahot" on the Sifrei) understand "kesufim" in light of the Aramaic word "kisufa," which means embarrassment. Moshe thus sought people who were ashamed of improper behavior and would therefore calculate their actions in order to avoid embarrassment. Kohellet (2:14) says, "Chakham einav be-rosho" - the wise man's eyes are on his head, meaning, he carefully considers his conduct and tries to foresee its ramifications. Thus, a person ashamed of inappropriate behavior is indeed deserving of the title "chakham," and this quality Moshe sought in selecting the nation's judges.

Another explanation, also associating "kesufim" with the word for shame, is recorded from an unpublished manuscript of Rav Chanokh Henikh of Belzitz in the journal Kerem Shelomo (17:7, p.9) published by the Bobover chasidim. Chazal say, "Who is wise? He who learns from all people." The truly wise person will humbly listen to all people and try to learn from what others have to say. Surely, a good deal of embarrassment is involved when a scholarly person listens intently to a laymen or child. To this Moshe referred when he spoke of "chakhamim." He wanted "kesufim," people who were prepared to embarrass themselves by learning from anyone.

The Imrei Shamai understands "kesufim" as related to the word "kesef," money. Meaning, Moshe sought specifically wealthy scholars to serve as judges, in order that they would not be tempted by bribes and the like.

In conclusion, the Pardeis Yosef notes that a completely different text of Rashi appears in Rav Yosef Shaul Nathason's Divrei Shaul, by which Rashi interprets "chakhamim" as "philosophers." This text does not appear in contemporary editions of Rashi's commentary, and may point to some confusion as to what exactly Rashi wrote to explain the word "chakhamim."

David Silverberg

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On "Shabbat Chazon," the Shabbat immediately preceding Tisha B'Av, we read arguably the most famous haftara of the year, the first chapter of Yeshayahu. Many communities (generally among the Ashkenazim) have the custom of chanting this haftara in the traditional, mournful "Eikha" melody, as it speaks of the Almighty's frustration with His wayward people and His painful decision to drive them into exile. (Some authorities, however, decry this practice, arguing that no customs associated with mourning should be observed on Shabbat.) We will look at the third verse of this prophecy (the second verse after the sefer's introduction) in an attempt to identify one of its central themes.

"An ox knows its owner, a donkey its master's crib: Yisrael does not know, my people takes no thought." Several different approaches have been taken to pinpointing the point of analogy here between Benei Yisrael and these beasts. (See Nechama Leibowitz's Studies.) Rashi, for example, understands the verse as mapping out a process of progressive deterioration, depicting Benei Yisrael as first worse than the ox, and then, alas, of less intelligence than the donkey. The ox acquires a sense of fealty towards its owner after a certain period over which the two work together. Benei Yisrael, by contrast, did not develop firm faith in the Almighty even after receiving the basic mitzvot and entering into a covenant with Him. Even worse, however, they have fallen short of even the donkey's standards, by which the animal exhibits loyalty to his master only after receiving its food. Benei Yisrael witnessed miracles and supernatural protection and care, but still refused to obey.

A different and uniquely powerful interpretation of this verse may emerge frthe Targum's commentary: "… Yisrael has not studied to know the fear of Me, My nation has not looked to return to My Torah." The Targum seems to focus - at least in the verse's conclusion - on the lack of teshuva - repentance - on the nation's part. The ox and donkey may at times stray over the course of work or what have you, but ultimately they have an instinctive sense that they must return to their master who cares for them. Benei Yisrael, laments the prophet, are different. That at times they do not "study to know the fear of Me" is perhaps excusable. But God cannot overlook their failure to return to their source after having strayed.

This interpretation is reinforced two verses later: "Why do you seek further beatings, that you continue to offend? Every head is ailing, and every heart is sick. From head to foot no spot is sound: all bruises, and welts, and festering sores… Your land is a waste, your cities burnt down; before your eyes, the yield of your soil is consumed by strangers… " The people had already sinned, and God has already punished them severely. Yet, they haven't "gotten it" - "My people takes no thought." Benei Yisrael have not properly responded to the calamities that have surfaced. They reacted by bringing sacrifices in the Mikdash and increasing ritual activity (verses 10-14), while ignoring social injustices and engaging in lying, stealing and cheating (see especially 21-23).

Thus, the prophet does not bemoan Benei Yisrael's imperfections, but rather their having ignored the Almighty's warning signals to return.

When crisis and calamity strike, two opposite routes present themselves. First, we can each point an accusing finger in every which direction and search for the problem's cause in misguided political decision-making, ill-fated policies, and the like. This approach condones looking everywhere but to our Father in heaven for the source of the troubling events. Alternatively, we can look first and foremost into ourselves and consider ways to improve our own behavior. This response bids us to answer the Almighty's call for return, in the spirit of the axiom we declare on the High Holidays: "Repentance, prayer and charity eliminate the evil decree."

As we tearfully sit on the floor this Tisha B'Av and mourn the rivers of Jewish blood spilt over the centuries, it will be hard not to bring to mind the dozens of Jews butchered since last Tisha B'Av. Perhaps we should also mourn our collective failure to return to our Master, to respond to the current crisis through genuine soul-searching and repentance. "Every head is ailing, and every heart is sick." Yeshayahu teaches us to open our eyes and hearts and repent: "Wash yourselves clean; put your evil doings away from My sight. Cease to do evil; learn to do good. Devote yourselves to justice; aid the wronged… " (1:16-17).

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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.

MakeJewish learning partof your week on a regular basis - enroll in the
Virtual Beit Midrash

(c) YeshivHar EtzioAll rights reserved to Yeshivat Har Etzion

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