The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

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Yeshivat Har Etzion

by Rav David Silverberg

In Parashat Vaetchanan, Moshe recounts Ma'amad Har Sinai and places particular emphasis on Benei Yisrael's response to the frightening revelation of God's presence, so-to-speak. He recalls that Benei Yisrael were seized by fear and requested that he alone continue hearing God's word from Him directly, and he will then convey it to the rest of the nation. They beg, "You go closer and hear all that the Lord our God says, and then you tell us everything that the Lord our God tells you, and we will willingly do it" (5:23). Rashi notes that in the phrase "and then you tell us," Benei Yisrael, as quoted here by Moshe, employ the feminine form of the word "you" – "at," as opposed to "ata." According to Rashi, Moshe deliberately made this switch in order to allude to the physical weakness he experienced as a result of their request (compare with Rashi in Bemidbar 11:15). Rashi writes: "You diminished my strength like a female, for I was distressed because of you and you weakened me, for I saw that are not fervently longing to approach Him out of love. Would it not have been nicer for you to learn directly from God, rather than learning from me?"

Many later writers question these comments of Rashi in light of the simple fact that in the very next verse, Moshe himself recalls God's enthusiastic response to the people's request: "The Lord heard the plea that you made to me, and the Lord said to me, 'I have heard the plea that this people made to you; they did well to speak thus'." If God Himself was pleased with Benei Yisrael's idea, why does Moshe criticize them for it, wondering, "Would it not have been nicer for you to learn directly from God, rather than learning from me"?

Abarbanel answers this question by carefully examining the phrase in this verse that we discussed at length last week: "kol divreikhem" ("the sound of your words"). As we saw (in the comments of Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch; Abarbanel explains along similar lines), this refers to the tone of Benei Yisrael's request, as opposed to the request itself. Moshe mistakenly suspected that Benei Yisrael speak here out of indifference towards their relationship to God, but God understood that they submitted this request out of genuine fear.

One earlier source, the commentary of Rabbenu Chayim Paltiel, takes a much different approach. He claims that when God lauded Yisrael's appeal to Moshe, He referred not to the request that Moshe serve as intermediary, but rather to the two final words spoken to Moshe: "ve-shamanu ve-asinu" ("and we will willingly do it"). Moshe was not, in fact, mistaken in his critical assessment of Benei Yisrael's intentions. God expressed His satisfaction not with Benei Yisrael's request, but rather with their sincere commitment to obey the commands that Moshe will convey to them. Clearly, however, this assumes a rather far-fetched reading of verse 24.

Later writers adopt Abarbanel's approach, that Moshe was mistaken in his assessment, and attempt to explain wherein precisely Moshe erred. Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson, in his "Divrei Shaul," suggests that Moshe perceived Benei Yisrael's request as reflecting their disdain for the level of fear accompanying direct communication from God. The intense encounter of Ma'amad Har Sinai required Benei Yisrael to maintain a particularly demanding standard of spiritual perfection. Moshe suspected that they perhaps sought to free themselves of this burden by diminishing the intensity of this encounter. God, however, understood that Benei Yisrael requested Moshe's involvement as an intermediary in order that they can have a clearer understanding of God's commandments, not because they had enough of the intensity of God's revelation.

Rav Moshe Feinstein suggests a different explanation, one which also relates to the issue of comprehension. Moshe suspected Benei Yisrael's intentions because he had presumed that if they did not understand something clearly, they would simply ask him for clarification. Therefore, even though they might not understand as clearly when hearing from God directly, this would still be preferable, since they can always turn to him for assistance. God, however, understanding human nature, realized that not in every situation of doubt or ambiguity do people turn to experts for clarification. People often arrogantly assume that they understand so as to avoid the somewhat humiliating situation of asking for help. God therefore preferred that Benei Yisrael hear the laws more clearly from Moshe, rather than hearing directly from the Almighty, since they would not necessarily turn to Moshe for assistance when it became necessary to do so.

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Yesterday, we discussed a difficulty that appears to arise from a comment by Rashi in Parashat Vaetchanan (5:23). Moshe recalls how the frightening divine revelation of Ma'amad Har Sinai led Benei Yisrael to request that only Moshe hear God's word directly, and he would then convey it to them. Rashi claims that Moshe criticizes Benei Yisrael for preferring indirect communication with God over direct revelation. The very next verse, however, tells of God's favorable response to the people's request: "They did well to speak thus." How could Moshe criticize Benei Yisrael for making a request of which the Almighty approved?

We saw yesterday two general approaches to dealing with this question. The first claimed that God did not express His approval of the request per se, but rather of Benei Yisrael's promise to obey the commandments that Moshe will hear from God and convey to them. As we noted, however, the straightforward reading of God's response to the people's request clearly implies that He lauds them for the request itself, rather than the promise appended to the request. What more, God continues in the next verse, "May they always be of such mind, to revere Me and follow all My commandments… " It seems clear that God was pleased with the level of yir'a (reverence) that the people have attained, as expressed by their fear of continued direct exposure to His revelation.

The second approach – of which we saw different variations – claimed that Moshe misunderstood the people's intentions. He suspected wrongful intentions until God corrected him and showed him that the people spoke sincerely. But this approach, too, seems difficult to accept. If Moshe's interpretation of the people's request was erroneous, why would he find it necessary or even appropriate to mention his misunderstanding now, forty years later? Of what significance is Moshe's mistaken impression of the people?

For this reason, we might want to consider a different approach to this comment of Rashi, one which does not view Moshe's perspective of the people's request as mistaken. In this passage, Rashi appears to emphasize the element of "ahava," genuine love of God, to the lack of which Moshe attributed Benei Yisrael's request: "I was distressed because of you and you weakened me, for I saw that are not fervently longing to approach Him out of love. Would it not have been nicer for you to learn directly from God, rather than learning from me?" If Benei Yisrael truly loved God and longed for a close, personal relationship with Him, Moshe felt, they certainly would not have expressed their preference for a mediator. Let us now take another look at God's response: "They did well to speak thus. May they always be of such mind, to revere Me and follow all My commandments… " God responds to Moshe's disappointment by saying, "May they always have such yir'a [fear, or reverence]!" Moshe was disturbed by the apparent lack of ahava, love of God, the highest level of service of God, but God lauded them for their yir'a. Moshe was not wrong, only he had unreasonably high expectations of the people. God tells Moshe that although Benei Yisrael indeed failed to attain the ideal level of ahava, he must be pleased with theimpressive level of yir'a which prompted their request.

Thus, Moshe was correct in his assessment of Benei Yisrael's request; it indeed reflected a certain deficiency in their love of God and enthusiastic desire for closeness with Him. But God tells Moshe to appreciate the people's yir'a. For it is yir'a, a sense of submission to divine authority and recognition of God's power and control, that forms the basis of Benei Yisrael's relationship to the Almighty. Once this level has been achieved and is maintained, there is hope for furthering our relationship and bringing it to the next level, that of ahava.

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Parashat Vaetchanan contains the first paragraph of the shema prayer (6:4-9), which we recite twice each day. The second verse of this paragraph introduces the mitzva of "ahavat Hashem" - loving God (a concept we briefly discussed yesterday): "Ve-ahavta et Hashem Elokekha" ("You shall love the Lord your God"). What exactly does this mitzva entail? How does one fulfill this command of loving God?

The Rambam discusses the mitzva of ahavat Hashem in three different places in his writings, and in each he establishes a particularly demanding definition of this mitzva. In Sefer Ha-mitzvot (mitzvat asei 3), he defines this commandment as, "We must think and contemplate His mitzvot and sayings and actions until we understand Him and experience ultimate joy in the understanding of Him." By contemplating God's commandments and teachings, one arrives at true love of God. In Hilkhot Yesodei Ha-Torah (beginning of chapter 2), the Rambam writes that one arrives at love for God by contemplating and studying the natural sciences and beholding God's handiwork. In both these contexts, the Rambam assumes that the mitzva requires one to truly love God in the literal sense of the term. One accomplishes this by studying either God's Torah or His creation.

The Rambam develops this literal approach to the mitzva of "loving God" most explicitly in his famous final chapter of Hilkhot Teshuva. The Rambam there (10:3) describes the proper level of ahava as the point where one loves God to such an extent that he cannot even divert his attention from his feelings towards the Almighty. He goes so far as to compare the love for God required by this mitzva with the love between man and woman.

Other sources, however, appear to indicate that this mitzva does not actually require love in the literal, emotional sense. Seforno writes: "You will rejoice to do that which finds favor in His eyes when you understand that there is no goal nobler than this." Seforno seems to define "ahava" in this context as referring to the desire to fulfill God's wishes. This mitzva requires not the actual emotional feeling of love, but rather the desire to fulfill mitzvot as if we actually experienced that emotional feeling. We are to realize that there is no more valuable endeavor than fulfilling God's commands, and then we will naturally do so with an enthusiasm generally associated with feelings of love.

This also appears to be the approach of Rabbenu Yona, in his commentary to Pirkei Avot. Commenting on the mishna's admonition to serve the Almighty "not in order to receive a reward" ("she-lo al menat le-kabel peras" - 1:3), Rabbenu Yona claims that this is the meaning of the mitzva of ahavat Hashem. This mitzva requires that we serve God not in anticipation of a reward, but simply for the sake of serving Him. Like Seforno, Rabbenu Yona appears to understand "ahava" here as an appreciation of the immense, intrinsic value of mitzva performance, rather than the emotional experience described by the Rambam.

The one who most explicitly and vehemently rejects the Rambam's approach is Shadal (Rav Shemuel David Lutzato - Padova, Italy, 19^th century). He claims that the Rambam's position on ahavat Hashem evolves from the influence of Greek philosophy, which taught that spiritual perfection could be attained only by withdrawing from worldly occupations and devoting one's mind exclusively to intellectual pursuits. Only such a world outlook, Shadal argued, could lead one to make such lofty demands of every Jew in order to fulfill the mitzva of ahavat Hashem. (In this passage, Shadal attributes this mistake also to Rabbenu Bechayei Ibn Pakuda, author of "Chovot Halevavot," who generally follows the Rambam's approach to the mitzva of ahavat Hashem.) Shadal therefore posits the following definition of ahavat Hashem: "One who places Hashem opposite him constantly and the primary [focus of] his mind and heart is to please Him and observe His statutes, laws and commandments – such a person is called a lover of God." According to Shadal, this mitzva requires simply prioritization; one must make God's commandments his primary focus and concern, the single most important priority of his life. This mitzva does not, however, in Shadal's view, require one to contemplate God's laws or creation until he develops an emotional feeling of love towards the Almighty.

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In Parashat Vaetchanan, Moshe Rabbenu tells Benei Yisrael that upon entry into Eretz Canaan, they will encounter, and benefit from, readily available resources of food and the like. He predicts that Benei Yisrael will find there "great and flourishing cities that you did not build, houses full of good things that you did not fill, hewn cisterns that you did not hew, vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant – and you will eat and be satiated" (6:10-11). Moshe then warns the people, "Take heed that you do not forget the Lord who freed you from the land of Egypt." What exactly does Moshe mean when he speaks of "forgetting" God, and why would Benei Yisrael "forget" God upon partaking of the resources left behind by the Canaanites?

To put this question into perspective, let us consider several verses in next week's parasha, Parashat Ekev, which, in a certain sense, resemble the verses quoted from Parashat Vaetchanan. There, too, Moshe foresees the time when, once in Eretz Canaan, Benei Yisrael will "eat and be satiated" (8:10), and in that context, as well, he warns, "Take heed that you do not forget the Lord your God" (8:11). However, the situation Moshe describes there differs drastically from that which he foresees in our parasha. There, Benei Yisrael do not simply inherit a ready-made economic infrastructure, but rather develop one themselves: "When you have eaten your fill, and have built fine houses to live in, and your herds and flocks have multiplied… and everything you own has prospered – beware lest your heart grow haughty and your forget the Lord your God." Moshe speaks here of the period after Benei Yisrael have established their country, built their own homes and businesses, and have worked hard and accumulated wealth. In this situation, we understand full well why Moshe must warn against "forgetting God," against attributing one's success to his own efforts and talents rather than to God's blessing.

In Parashat Vaetchanan, however, Benei Yisrael take no part in developing the resources from which they now benefit. Moshe speaks here of the period immediately following the ousting of the Canaanite nations, at which point Benei Yisrael can enjoy the resources of the former inhabitants until they develop their own natural infrastructure. Why would they forget God then?

Seforno explains, "Wealth acquired in this manner generally causes one to be drawn after desires, through which a person forgets his Maker." According to Seforno, wealth earned without effort results in excessive indulgence, which itself leads one to forget God.

A different approach appears to emerge from a much earlier source – the "Semag," or Sefer Mitzvot Gadol, who cites this verse as the source for the Torah prohibition against arrogance (lo ta'aseh 64). (Fascinatingly, the Semag writes in his introduction that he initially composed his work without listing this mitzva. But then he was told in a dream that in his listing of the mitzvot he forgot the most important mitzva of all – the prohibition against arrogance!) At first glance, this further compounds the question we posed earlier. Why would BeneiYisrael grow haughty from enjoying the resources left behind by the Canaanites? They took no part in cultivating the vineyards whose wine they now drink; why would they become arrogant?

Perhaps the Semag felt that, indeed, so desperately does the human being long for self-respect that he would even take credit for that in which he played no role achieving. A person can so strongly desire a feeling of accomplishment, power and self-sufficiency that he is prepared to pride himself for that which he has even if it came to him on a silver platter. For this reason, perhaps, according to the Semag, the Torah introduces the prohibition against arrogance specifically in this context, amidst its discussion of the riches Benei Yisrael effortlessly accumulated in Eretz Canaan.

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The Gemara in Masekhet Gittin (56b) tells that when the Roman general Titus destroyed the Temple, he entered the kodesh ha-kodashim (innermost sanctum of the Temple) holding a prostitute, spread out a Sefer Torah on the floor, and sinned with the prostitute on the Torah. The Maharal of Prague claimed that this horrific description cannot be taken literally. Wicked as Titus undoubtedly was, such an act was beneath a man of such prominent stature and nobility, even a man as corrupt as Titus.

The Maharal therefore advances an allegorical approach to this Gemara. The kodesh ha-kodashim, the site of the ark, which contained the Sefer Torah and the tablets from Sinai, represents the point of "chibur" (attachment, ultimate closeness) between the Almighty and Am Yisrael. This was the private chamber, so-to-speak, where God would meet in intimacy with His beloved, Benei Yisrael. In this chamber, an idolater who comes to destroy and displace Am Yisrael is considered as attaching himself with that same level of intensity with his idolatry. If for Benei Yisrael the kodesh ha-kodashim is the site of ultimate closeness with the Almighty, than for a pagan this site has the parallel effect, only in the reverse: it becomes the site of ultimate closeness between him and his idolatry. As Titus trampled on the Sefer Torah, as he caused a rupture between God and Benei Yisrael, he also became intimately attached to the "prostitute" – to his pagan beliefs and worship.

In light of the Maharal's explanation, we might want to develop a bit further the metaphor of the prostitute, which Chazal employed to depict idolatry. Why does the harlot symbolize pagan worship? Chazal perhaps sought to underscore the stark contrast between the relationship between Am Yisrael and the Almighty on the one hand, and that between the pagans and their deities, on the other. Am Yisrael and God are bound together in the covenant of the Torah, a relationship characterized by mutual respect and obligation: "You have chosen the Lord on this day to be for you a God, to walk in His ways and observe His laws… And the Lord has chosen you on this day to be for Him a treasured nation" (Devarim 26:17-18). For this reason, the relationship between God and Benei Yisrael is often likened to that of husband and wife, and Matan Torah is often described as the wedding, the forging of this bond of mutual affection and responsibility. By contrast, the pagans' relationship to their gods was like that between a man and a prostitute, one of one-sided utility. They worshipped and served their gods only insofar as they believed in the gods' power to protect and bless them. They worshipped the rain god to get rain; they worshipped the god of trees to have luscious fruits. This bond is thus compared by Chazal to the union of a prostitute and her patron – an entirely utilitarian relationship whereby they seek only to extract immediate benefit and enjoyment, without bearing any deep, personal responsibility or obligation towards the other party. Just as one hires a harlot's services, leaves her and then later hires another, so would the pagans choose one god to serve so long as they enjoyed success, and then discard it in favor of another when they felt the other offered better chances of prosperity.

On Tisha B'Av, we mourn the loss of the Temple, the symbol of this singular bond between the Almighty and His people. This special relationship was destroyed and supplanted by the forces of paganism, a religious doctrine based upon purely selfish interests and pleasure, rather than a sense of obligation and responsibility. Hence the image of the wicked Titus bringing a prostitute into the holiest chamber of the Bet Ha-mikdash.

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Amidst its collection of stories and accounts related to the Temple's destruction, the Gemara in Masekhet Gittin (58a) tells that Rabbi Yehoshua Ben Chananya once visited Rome shortly after the destruction of the Second Temple. While in Rome, he was informed of an exceptional young Jewish boy who was taken captive from Jerusalem and was now held in a Roman prison. Rabbi Yehoshua stood at the entrance to the prison and called out the first half a verse in Sefer Yeshayahu (42:24): "Who was it who gave Yaakov over to despoilment and Yisrael to plunderers?" The child about whom Rabbi Yehoshua had heard immediately responded with the second half of the verse, in which the prophet responds to his own rhetorical question: "Surely, the Lord, against whom we sinned, in whose ways they would not walk and whose Torah they would not obey."

Upon hearing the boy's response, Rabbi Yehoshua enthusiastically exclaimed, "I am confident in him that he [is destined to be] an instructor of law among Yisrael!" Rabbi Yehoshua promised to ransom the boy for any sum the Romans demanded. Sure enough, the Romans asked for an exorbitantly high price, but Rabbi Yehoshua, assured of the child's future as a spiritual leader, paid the money and ransomed the child, who became the famous kohen gadol, Rabbi Yishmael Ben Elisha.

Many later writers have wondered what led Rabbi Yehoshua to believe with such confidence that this boy will emerge as a great leader of Israel. Does proficiency in Sefer Yeshayahu automatically render one a candidate for spiritual leadership – let alone a certain future as a spiritual leader?

The answer perhaps lies not in the fact that the child accurately completed the verse, but in the content of that verse. To understand the significance of young Yishmael Ben Elisha's response, let us first turn our attention to Parashat Vayelekh, where God describes Benei Yisrael's reaction to the calamities that will befall them on account of their sins. God predicts, "They shall say on that day: Surely it is because our God is not in our midst that these evils have befallen us" (Devarim 31:17). How will God react to this conclusion Benei Yisrael will reach? The next verse reads, "But I will keep My countenance hidden on that day, because of all the evil they have done in turning to other gods." Many commentators have asked, why does God react this way to Benei Yisrael's acknowledgment that He is the source of their troubles? Why do they deserve further suffering for attributing their hardships to divine wrath? (We discussed this question in our S.A.L.T. series to Parashat Vayelekh several years ago.)

Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch explains, quite simply, that acknowledging the divine origin of national calamities does not suffice. Periods of tragedy and destruction require a process of introspection to determine our spiritual failings. While we can never link a given crisis to a given sin with certainty, we can and must view times of hardship as a call to self-improvement and repentance. This Benei Yisrael did not do, and God therefore continues punishing them until He evokes the appropriate response.

With this in mind, we can perhaps gain a clearer understanding of Rabbi Yehoshua's enthusiasm regarding the prisoner child. Rabbi Yehoshua posed a simple question: "Who was it who gave Yaakov over to despoilment and Yisrael to plunderers?" The answer Rabbi Yehoshua would have expected from a commoner was simply, "Surely the Lord." Yishmael Ben Elisha, however, cited the entire verse: "Surely, the Lord, against whom we sinned, in whose ways they would not walk and whose Torah they would not ." Rabbi Yehoshua may have observed that even after the devastation of the churban (destruction), Jews still failed to confess the widespread moral decline that led to such a calamity. They understood that this was an act of God, but they did not acknowledge their own guilt. Such a recognition was found only among the select few, and Rabbi Yehoshua therefore concluded that young Yishmael Ben Elisha was destined for greatness.

Among the particularly powerful Kinnot recited on Tisha B'Av is "Im Tokhalna Nashim" (Kinna #17 in the Artscroll edition). This Kinna describes in graphic detail the human suffering and unspeakable horrors that our nation experienced during the time of the destruction. After each description, we exclaim, "Alelai li!" ("Alas unto me!"). Thus, for example, the first two lines read, "If women ate the fruit of their womb, the babes of their care – alas unto me! If compassionate women cooked their own children whom they had so carefully measured handbreadth by handbreadth – alas unto me!" Finally, towards the very end of the Kinna, we read of the Almighty's response to our endless questioning of "how could this be": "But the holy spirit raged back at them: Woe unto all my wicked neighbors! That which befell them they publicize, but that which they perpetrated they do not publicize. 'If women ate the fruit of their own womb' they let be heard, but 'if a kohen and prophet is murdered in God's Temple' – they did not let that be heard!"

This response of God, as envisioned by this Kinna, is based upon a verse in Megilat Eikha (2:20): "If women ate the fruit of their own womb! If a kohen and prophet is murdered in God's Temple!" In the first half of the verse, Benei Yisrael bemoan the devastation they experienced; in the second half, God bemoans the corruption and bloodshed that took place right inside the Temple (referring here specifically to the murder of the kohen-prophet Zekharya Ben Yehoyada – Divrei Hayamim II 24:20). As we weep over the tragedies that have befallen our people on Tisha B'Av, we are reminded to weep as well for our own wrongdoing which we must hold accountable for these calamities. If we mourn the horrors of "women eating the fruit of their own womb," then we must mourn as well the murder of "the kohen and the prophet," our misdeeds that led and continue to lead to the destruction of God's Temple.

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Parashat Vaetchanan begins with Moshe's impassioned appeal to the Almighty for permission to cross the Jordan River into Eretz Canaan. The Gemara in Masekhet Sota (14a) asks why Moshe yearned to enter the land. "Did he need to eat of its fruit?" the Gemara asks. The Gemara responds that Moshe wished to enter Eretz Canaan, quite simply, because many mitzvot apply only there, mitzvot that he would never have the opportunity to fulfill if he would die before entering the land. God responds, as recorded in the Gemara, that He will give Moshe credit as if he actually fulfilled those mitzvot, even though he could not observe them in practice, given the fact that he lived and died outside the land.

Many scholars have cited this Gemara as possible proof against the famous position of the Ramban, who considers yishuv Eretz Yisrael (living in the land of Israel) one of the six hundred and thirteen mitzvot of the Torah. (See his commentary to Vayikra 18:25 & Bamidbar 33:53, and his critique of the Rambam's Sefer Ha-mitzvot – 4^th mitzva which he believes the Rambam omitted.) If, indeed, living in Eretz Yisrael constitutes a mitzva, then why did the Gemara even have to ask why Moshe begged for permission to enter the land? Is it not obvious that Moshe longed to perform this mitzva?

Rav Meir Simcha Ha-kohen of Dvinsk, in his Meshekh Chokhma (beginning of Parashat Re'ei), offers a very simple explanation: Moshe already fulfilled the mitzva of yishuv Eretz Yisrael by spending the last year of his life in the captured territory of Sichon and Og. Once this territory was established as the permanent residence of the tribes of Reuven and Gad and half the tribe of Menasheh, it is formally considered part of Eretz Yisrael with respect to the Ramban's mitzva of yishuv ha-aretz. However, not all the agricultural laws of Eretz Yisrael applied in this region. Therefore, the Gemara understandably searched for a reason behind Moshe's plea, and answered that he wanted to fulfill all the mitzvot, which he could do only in Eretz Yisrael proper. But if it were yishuv ha-aretz that Moshe longed to fulfill, he would not have to cross the Jordan River.

A much different resolution to this difficulty was suggested by the Noda Bi-Yehuda (as cited by the author of "Keli Chemda" in a piece printed in the journal "Moriah," 1:2-3). The Noda Bi-Yehuda notes that the Ramban extracted the mitzva of yishuv ha-aretz from two adjacent verses in Parashat Masei, the second of which being, "You shall apportion the land among yourselves… " (Bamidbar 33:54). That the Torah speaks of "apportioning" the land in the context of this mitzva indicates, the Noda Bi-Yehuda suggests, that the apportionment of the land constitutes an integral part of this obligation. On this basis, the Noda Bi-Yehuda arrived at a revolutionary theory: only those included in the process of "nachala" (apportionment), who receive a portion in Eretz Yisrael, are included under the mitzva of dwelling in Eretz Yisrael. When the Ramban argues for an independent mitzva of yishuv ha-aretz, he meant to apply it to only those people who received a portion in the land. Therefore, Moshe, a member of the tribe of Levi, had no obligation of yishuv Eretz Yisrael, since the Levi'im did not receive a portion in the land. (In a subsequent edition of "Moriah," this explanation is cited in the name of the famous Gaon of Rogotchov.)

Rav David Mandelbaum, in his "Pardes Yosef He-chadash" to Parashat Masei (33:53), discusses this revolutionary theory of the Noda Bi-Yehuda and suggests a slight adjustment to his approach. He suggests that the mitzva of yishuv ha-aretz, as understood by the Ramban, involves not only the settlement of the land, but the military seizure and defense of the land, as well. Therefore, the settlement component of the mitzva applies only when the military element applies, as well. Since the Levi'im did not participate in Benei Yisrael's wars, they are perhaps excluded entirely from the mitzva of yishuv ha-aretz, even from the aspect of settling the land. Therefore, the Gemara wondered why Moshe petitioned the Almighty to grant him permission to enter the land, given the fact that the mitzva of yishuv ha-aretz did not apply to him.

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