Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT RE'EH

By Rav David Silverberg

Moshe declares in Parashat Re’ei, “You are children of the Lord your God; you shall not gash yourselves or shave the front of your heads over the dead” (14:1). It is commonly understood that the prohibition “lo titgodedu” – “you shall not gash yourselves” – refers to a self-mutilation ritual practiced by ancient pagans as an expression of grief and bereavement. This is indeed the straightforward reading of this verse, which presents this prohibition in conjunction with the ban on shaving parts of one’s head la-met – over the dead.

The Sifrei, however, appears to have interpreted this reference to a pagan gashing ritual differently. According to the Sifrei, the Torah here forbids the kind of religious practice observed by the Israelite prophets of Ba’al during the time of Eliyahu. Sefer Melakhim I (18) tells of the dramatic “showdown” on Mount Carmel between Eliyahu and the prophets of the followers of the pagan deity Ba’al. The Ba’al prophets called upon their deity to appear in the form of a heavenly fire (as God ultimately did in response to Eliyahu’s plea), and when they received no response, they began gashing their skin. It is this kind of ritual, the Sifrei writes, that Moshe has in mind in Parashat Re’ei when he warns against gashing. Seemingly, the Sifrei understood this prohibition as referring not to practices of mourning, but rather to self-mutilation as a means of appealing to a divine force for assistance and the like.

This interpretation compels us to reexamine the verse’s opening clause, with which Moshe introduces the prohibition of lo titgodedu – “You are children of the Lord your God.” Many commentators address the relevance of this parent-child relationship between God and Israel to the need to refrain from self-destructive responses to tragedy. This connection is explained in a number of different ways, the general point being that our nation’s closeness to God makes it unnecessary to grieve unduly over the loss of a loved one. (For example, see Ibn Ezra, Chizkuni, Seforno, Or Ha-chayim and Malbim; it should be noted that Rashi takes an entirely different approach.) According to the Sifrei, however, lo titgodedu, unlike the second prohibition in this verse, which forbids shaving one’s head in response to tragedy, does not involve situations of bereavement. It forbids gashing one’s skin as a means of prayer or invoking a supposed divine force. Why would Moshe introduce this prohibition by affirming Benei Yisrael’s status as the Almighty’s “children”?

Rav David Zvi Hoffman suggests an explanation by identifying the flawed theological perspective that underlay the pagans’ practice of self-mutilation in requesting assistance from their deity. The pagans viewed their gods as jealous beings, who competed with humans for power. Gods would grant the human being’s request only if the human would agree to sacrifice some of his strength or prestige in exchange. Inflicting pain and injury on oneself was adopted as a means of pacifying the envious god, of knocking oneself down so that the god would agree to help him in some other way.

Moshe therefore tells Benei Yisrael, “You are children of the Lord your God.” We have no need to resort to such means, because we are beloved to the Almighty. Just as a father does not compete with his son, and is rather interested in helping his children prosper and succeed, demanding only love and loyalty in return, so does God wish only the best for us. We have no need to hurt ourselves to arouse His goodwill; that goodwill is already in place, provided that we obey Him with loyalty and devotion.

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Parashat Re’ei presents the Torah obligation of tzedaka, warning against denying financial assistance to those in need. The Torah issues a specific warning against withholding loans as the shemita (“sabbatical”) year approaches: “Beware, lest you harbor the evil thought of saying: ‘The seventh year, the shemita year is drawing near,’ and you will look askance and your brother the pauper, and you will not give to him.” Moshe then warns of the consequences of refusing to give a loan in such a case: “He [the pauper] will call out to God because of you, and you will have sinned” (15:9).

On the surface, this verse must be read in light of the immediately preceding section, which introduces the law of shemitat kesafim – the remission of debts during the shemita year. In addition to the agricultural prohibitions of the seventh year, the Torah also prescribes that all debts are canceled during shemita. Accordingly, a person approached for a loan several weeks or months before the remission will obviously be tempted to refuse the loan, given the likelihood that the money will never be returned. The Torah therefore demands selfless devotion to the poor to such a degree that one would be prepared to lend money even as the remission date approaches. (Today, pruzbul documents are signed before the remission takes effect, which circumvents the law of shemitat kesafim.)

However, Rav Yaakov Mecklenberg, in his Ha-ketav Ve-ha-kabbala, noted a possible difficulty with this otherwise straightforward interpretation. In the previous verse, when the Torah obligates lending to the needy in general, it employs the expression, “ha’avet ta’avitenu.” The word avot (with an ayin, not an alef) is used in several contexts in reference to an object given to a lender as collateral. It follows, then, that the Torah here refers to loans given on collateral. However, Halakha very clearly establishes that loans given on collateral are not subject to the law of shemitat kesafim. The question thus arises, why would the lender in such a case refuse a loan before the shemita year? If, indeed, the Torah speaks here of lending on collateral, then the laws of shemitat kesafim are not relevant.

The simplest answer, perhaps, is that in this verse the Torah already shifts its discussion onto loans without collateral. Indeed, in the very next verse (15:10), in demanding that one agree to lend even as the remission approaches, the Torah writes, “Naton titein lo” – “you shall surely give him” – rather than “ha’avet ta’avitenu.” We might therefore assume that the Torah here requires potential lenders to be prepared to lend even without collateral, despite the likelihood of the debt’s cancellation.

Ha-ketav Ve-ha-kabbala, however, insisted on the consistency of these verses, and therefore felt that indeed, the Torah here speaks of lending on collateral. He thus claimed that the concern addressed here by the Torah does not relate to the remission of debts. Rather, one might refrain from lending to the poor before shemita because of the agricultural laws that take effect that year. During the period of shemita, all produce in Eretz Yisrael is rendered ownerless; no landowner may prevent another person – or animal – from entering his field and helping himself to the produce. Naturally, then, a person approached for a loan in the weeks before shemita might wonder why this individual so desperately needs cash. After all, he will soon enjoy unlimited access to all the fields in Israel. Why does he borrow money now? It is this thought, Ha-ketav Ve-ha-kabbala contends, that might discourage a lender from granting a loan as the shemita year appears on the horizon.

Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, adds that this interpretation perhaps sheds light on another expression in this verse. The lender foreseen by the Torah is said to “look askance at your brother, the pauper” (“ve-ra’a einekha be-achikha ha-evyon”). As Rav Ginsburg notes, this phrase appears to refer not to stinginess, but rather to a critical and judgmental view of one’s fellow. In light of Ha-ketav Ve-ha-kabbala’s approach to these verses, this phrase becomes clear. The Torah warns against reaching rash conclusions about the borrower’s request. The imminent approach of shemita does not necessarily render any loan request illegitimate. The individual very possibly prefers borrowing and repaying rather than availing himself of the land’s ownerless state during shemita. One must therefore respond favorably to loan requests even just prior to the shemita year, when the plight of the underprivileged is in any event alleviated.

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Parashat Re’ei includes a section dealing with the laws of meat consumption that would take effect upon Benei Yisrael’s entry into Eretz Yisrael. Moshe tells the people, “When the Lord your God will expand your boundary as He has spoken to you, and you shall say, ‘I will eat meat,’ because your soul will desire meat – you shall eat meat as your heart desires. Should the site that the Lord your God will choose… be distant from you, then you shall slaughter from among your cattle and sheep… and eat in your gates, as your hearts desires” (12:20-1).

The Gemara (Chulin 16b-17a) cites a debate between Rabbi Yishmael and Rabbi Akiva in interpreting these verses. Both sages agree that Moshe refers here to a significant halakhic transition that would occur once Benei Yisrael cross the Jordan River into the Land of Israel, such that the laws of meat consumption would undergo a drastic change. These Tanna’im argue, however, as to what the halakhic condition was in the wilderness that changed with the nation’s entry into Canaan. According to Rabbi Yishmael, the situation during Benei Yisrael’s travels through the wilderness were far more restrictive, in that only sacrificial meat was permitted for consumption. Besar ta’ava – meat eaten purely for gratification, rather than as part of a sacrificial ritual – was forbidden during this period. Moshe here informs the people that once they cross into the Land besar ta’ava would become permissible, and they would be allowed to slaughter animals even “in your gates,” outside the framework of the sacrificial order. Rabbi Akiva claims that to the contrary, the standards during the wilderness period were far more relaxed. Not only were Benei Yisrael permitted to partake of non-sacrificial meat in the wilderness, they were permitted to partake of meat without formal shechita – slaughtering. Even nechira – killing the animal through some other means – sufficed to render meat permissible for consumption during the years of travel in the wilderness.

Thus, according to Rabbi Yishmael, Benei Yisrael’s entry into Eretz Yisrael introduced a far more lenient system concerning meat consumption, whereas in Rabbi Akiva’s view, the rules became far more restrictive when Benei Yisrael crossed the Jordan. The Gemara indicates very clearly that these two views are mutually exclusive. That is, Rabbi Yishmael denies Rabbi Akiva’s claim that slaughtering was unnecessary in the wilderness, and Rabbi Akiva rejects Rabbi Yishmael’s assertion that besar ta’ava was forbidden during that period.

In light of the Gemara’s presentation of this debate, many scholars questioned the Rambam’s comments in Hilkhot Shekhita (4:7) regarding this issue. The Rambam writes that both the stringency of Rabbi Yishmael and the leniency of Rabbi Akiva applied during Benei Yisrael’s sojourn in the wilderness. On the one hand, he writes explicitly that animal slaughtering in the wilderness was permitted only at the site of the Mishkan, seemingly corresponding to Rabbi Yishmael’s position, that besar ta’ava was forbidden during Benei Yisrael’s sojourn in the wilderness. At the same time, however, he explicitly accepts Rabbi Akiva’s position, that shechita was not necessary to render animal meat permissible for consumption during the wilderness period. How can these two statements be reconciled?

The Netziv, in his Ha’amek Davar (Vayikra 17:3), suggests that in truth, the Rambam sides squarely with Rabbi Akiva’s view, that Benei Yisrael were permitted to partake of besar ta’ava in the wilderness. A careful reading of the Rambam’s comments reveals very clearly that he forbade only formal shechita outside the context of the Mishkan. In his view, Benei Yisrael were allowed to partake of meat even at home, so long as they killed the animal through some means other than shechita. By restricting the formal act of shechita to the precinct of the Mishkan, the Rambam is not accepting Rabbi Yishmael’s view, which forbade the consumption of all non-sacrificial meat in the wilderness. Rather, he sides with Rabbi Akiva, who permitted the consumption of such meat, on condition that it was performed through some method other than shechita.

The question then arises, why would specifically shechita – which later became the only acceptable method of preparing meat – be forbidden in the wilderness?

The Netziv explains that the ancient pagans would customarily bring and slaughter sacrificial offerings to so-called “spirits” in the wilderness (see Vayikra 17:7). In an effort to gradually lead Benei Yisrael away from such practices, which had become prevalent in surrounding cultures, God forbade animal slaughtering in the wilderness, unless it was done in the specific framework of the sacrificial order in the Mishkan. Therefore, according to the Rambam, Benei Yisrael were indeed permitted to partake of besar ta’ava in the wilderness, but were required to kill the animals through some means other than the formal act of shechita, so as to very clearly establish the Torah’s rejection of the ancient pagan rituals.

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Earlier this week, we discussed the verse in Parashat Re’ei, “You are children of the Lord your God; you shall not gash yourselves or shave the front of your heads over the dead” (14:1). We briefly noted that according to several commentators, the introductory statement “You are the children of the Lord your God” serves as an explanation for the succeeding clause, where Moshe forbids extreme manifestations of grief over the loss of a loved one. Benei Yisrael’s status as God’s “children” should serve as a source of comfort in response to personal tragedy, as one’s relationship to the Almighty helps him overcome his loss of a close relative. This unique, personal relationship with his Creator should therefore restrain a mourner from unnecessary, self-mutilating measures during times of distress.

Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson, however, in his Divrei Shaul (Mahadura Revi’a), suggests connecting this prohibition with the immediately following verse: “For you are a sacred nation to the Lord your God, and you the Lord has chosen to be for Him a treasured nation, from among all the nations on the face of the earth.” The Divrei Shaul notes that the Torah here associates the prohibition against extreme manifestations of grief with God’s having chosen Benei Yisrael as a sacred and “treasured” (segula) nation. According to the Divrei Shaul, the point of connection lies precisely in Benei Yisrael’s quality of segula – as the Almighty’s “treasure.” People generally keep in their possession two kinds of items: those that serve a functional or aesthetic purpose, and those that are preserved for their sentimental or commemorative value. The difference between these two categories surfaces when an item breaks. Objects kept purely for their pragmatic or aesthetic value are discarded once they become dysfunctional or ruined. Objects of sentimental worth, however, are preserved regardless of their physical condition. Otherwise worthless chards of glass may be lovingly preserved if they are from a glass or dish used in an important event in one’s life; shreds from celebrities’ garments will sell for a high price despite their uselessness as clothing.

Similarly, Benei Yisrael are the Almighty’s “treasure”; He considers the Jew to be of immense worth even after he “breaks,” after his death, when body and soul separate. Even under such conditions, the Almighty treasures and values Benei Yisrael. Since one’s soul remains after death, and the deceased is simply “broken,” rather than no longer existent, the Almighty continues regarding him with value. Therefore, one must not excessively bereave the loss of a loved one. A mourner expresses his belief in the priceless value of his loved one even after death by exercising a degree of restraint in the process of bereavement. Thus, the prohibition against extreme measures of self-mutilation in response to tragedy stems directly from the notion of am segula – Benei Yisrael’s status as God’s treasured possession, which retains its value regardless of its physical condition.

We might suggest extending the Divrei Shaul’s beautiful analogy, and applying it to the world of the living. If, indeed, all Benei Yisrael are God’s “treasure” whom He holds in high regard despite our blemishes and imperfections, then seemingly we, too, must afford this same respect and regard for all other members of the nation, regardless of how imperfect they may be. Our fellow members of the “treasured nation” deserve our esteem and affection by virtue of this membership, even if they fail to live up to the demands of this lofty status. Just as a broken chair can sell for a high price at an auction if it was sat on by a celebrity, so must we regard with value even the “broken” members of the nation, those who have yet to internalize and accept the meaning and mission underlying the notion of am segula.

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Two days ago, we discussed the verse in Parashat Re’ei concerning the Torah’s guidelines for the consumption of meat: “When the Lord your God will expand your boundary as He has spoken to you, and you shall say, ‘I will eat meat,’ because your soul will desire meat – you shall eat meat as your heart desires” (12:20). As we saw, this verse, at least according to Rabbi Yishmael (Chulin 16b), informs Benei Yisrael that they would be permitted to partake of besar ta’ava – meat eaten for enjoyment, rather than as part of a sacrificial offering – once they enter the Land. Whereas (in Rabbi Yishmael’s view) in the wilderness only sacrificial meat was permitted for consumption, after crossing into Eretz Yisrael the nation would now be allowed to eat non-sacrificial meat, provided that it was prepared in accordance with halakhic procedures.

Surprisingly enough, Rabbenu Sa’adya Gaon, in his poetic listing of the mitzvot, appears to interpret this verse as an imperative, demanding that Benei Yisrael eat meat. In mitzvat asei 95, Rav Sa’adya writes, “[When] your boundary expands and you desire, be fattened by My goodness and be satiated” (“Rachav gevulekha ve-hit’avita, tedashena tovi ve-tisba”). Clearly basing himself on our verse, Rabbenu Sa’adya appears to require that one who so desires must partake of meat to his heart’s content.

Rav Yerucham Perlow, in his work on Rav Sa’adya’s listing of the mitzvot, devotes several pages to this cryptic passage, and ultimately concludes that we have no choice but to accept its straightforward meaning. That is, Rav Sa’adya indeed understands this verse as introducing a Biblical command to partake of the earth’s food. Acknowledging that such a view is a “davar chadash” (“novel thing”), Rav Perlow insists that we cannot interpret Rav Sa’adya’s comments in any other way. He suggests that this mitzva forms the basis for an otherwise peculiar comment in the Talmud Yerushalmi (end of Kiddushin): “A person will in the future [have to] make an accounting for everything that his eye beheld but he did not eat.” After citing various creative attempts to explain this baffling remark, Rav Perlow insists upon the straightforward implication, in accordance with Rabbenu Sa’adya Gaon’s interpretation of our verse. Namely, there is indeed a Biblical command to enjoy (in moderation, of course) the material goods this world has to offer. Rav Perlow does not, however, address the broader, philosophical implications and ramifications of this position.

A different approach is taken by Rav Moshe Leib Shachor, in his Avnei Shoham. Rav Sa’adya appears to draw a connection between the expansion of the borders of Eretz Yisrael, and this imperative to partake of meat: “[When] your boundary expands and you desire, be fattened by My goodness and be satiated.” Seemingly, then, he understood that this obligation takes effect specifically once Benei Yisrael expand their borders. Rav Shachor thus explains that Rav Sa’adya refers not to a general obligation to enjoy the world’s culinary offerings, but rather to a particular obligation to indulge during periods of territorial expansion and prosperity.

In this vein, Rav Shachor cleverly explains the sequence of verses towards the beginning of the fifth chapter of Sefer Melakhim I. In verses 2-3, we read of King Shlomo’s robust meals, the enormous amounts of grain products and meat that were prepared for him each day. The subsequent verse says, “for he exerted control over the entire area across the river, from Tifsach to Aza, over all the kings across the river, and he had peace from all his subjects around him.” This verse appears to point to Shlomo’s power and prowess as the reason why he enjoyed such luxurious conditions. Wherein lies the connection between the two? The Radak explains that the surrounding nations were forced to bring tributes to Shlomo, such that he accumulated enormous amounts of wealth, and this accounted for his affluent lifestyle.

Rav Shachor, however, suggests that that we explain these verses in light of Rav Sa’adya Gaon’s comments. King Shlomo’s success in expanding and securing the country’s borders resulted in the obligation of, “you shall eat meat as your heart desires.” As indicated by the verse, when God expands Benei Yisrael’s boundaries and grants them peace, security and prosperity, they are obligated to partake of God’s blessings, each in accordance with his means. For King Shlomo, this meant a daily feast of royal proportions, as described in Sefer Malkhim.

However, Rav Shachor (like Rav Perlow) provides no explanation as to the broader theological underpinnings of this obligation as established by Rav Sa’adya Gaon. It is unclear why exactly God would order Benei Yisrael to indulge in culinary delights during periods of territorial expansion. Rav Sa’adya’s comments thus remain somewhat of an enigma.

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Among the many topics discussed in Parashat Re’ei is ir nidachat – a city whose entire population practiced idolatry. The Torah requires the execution of all the town’s residents and the destruction of all their property (13:16-17).

The Gemara in Masekhet Sanhedrin (71a) cites the position of Rabbi Eliezer claiming that a city cannot be declared an ir nidachat if even a single house in the city has a mezuza. Rabbi Eliezer derives this halakha from the simple fact that the Torah demands destroying all the city’s belongings. Since it is forbidden to destroy a mezuza, the laws of ir nidachat cannot take effect if a house in the city has a mezuza. The Gemara thus associates Rabbi Eliezer with the position recorded in a berayta that there has never been an instance of ir nidachat in world history. Since Rabbi Eliezer considers the presence of even a single mezuza sufficient to disqualify a city from attaining ir nidachat status, such a situation could never have arisen; never has there been a city of Jews in Eretz Yisrael without any mezuzot.

Several Acharonim raised an obvious question that emerges from Rabbi Eliezer’s position. His line of reasoning presumes that the prohibition against destroying sacred writ would render it impossible to fulfill the Torah’s mandate to burn all the city’s possessions. This logic appears to ignore the fundamental halakhic principle of asei docheh lo ta’aseh – that a “positive commandment” (mitzvat asei) overrides a conflicting “negative commandment” (mitzvat lo ta’aseh). In situations where the performance of a mitzvat asei necessitates the violation of a mitzvat lo ta’aseh, Halakha permits – and in fact requires – proceeding with the asei regardless of the violation of the lo ta’aseh. Therefore, when a city that is a candidate for ir nidachat status has a mezuza, the asei demanding that the entire city be destroyed should seemingly override the prohibition against destroying mezuzot. Why, then, did Rabbi Eliezer assume that a mezuza in an ir nidachat would, theoretically, be forbidden to destroy along with the rest of the city’s property?

Among the more compelling answers suggested is that of Rabbi Eliezer Deutsch of Banihad, in his work Peri Ha-sadeh (2:2, cited in the work Ke-motzei Shalal Rav), who claimed that the principle of asei docheh lo ta’aseh would not apply to this situation. According to the Peri Ha-sadeh, Halakha permits violating a lo ta’aseh for the sake of performing an asei only if the forbidden act in question would independently fulfill the asei. If, however, the forbidden act constitutes but one part or one stage of the mitzvat asei, it remains forbidden. In this instance, of course, burning the mezuza does not itself amount to a fulfillment of the mitzvat asei, which demands the destruction of all the city’s possessions. As such, we would not suspend the prohibition against destroying a mezuza to allow for the fulfillment of the obligation to burn all the property in the city. Necessarily, then, according to Rabbi Eliezer, the entire halakha of ir nidachat cannot apply in such a case.

(Of course, this theory would have to be tested against all instances where the Talmud invokes the rule of asei docheh lo ta’aseh. And should we find this rule applied even where the forbidden act does not independently suffice to fulfill the asei, we could – in defense of the Peri Ha-sadeh – simply claim that the issue is subject to a debate among the Tanna’im; the Peri Ha-sadeh postulated this theory only within the position of Rabbi Eliezer.)

In any event, Halakha follows the majority view, that a city can become an ir nidachat despite its mezuzot, which are buried should the city be declared an ir nidachat (Sanhedrin 112b, 113a; Rambam, Hilkhot Avodat Kokhavim 4:15).

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The final section of Parashat Re’ei (16:1-17) deals with the three pilgrimage festivals – Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot – and concludes with the obligation of aliya le-regel – to make a pilgrimage to the Temple on these occasions. The Torah writes, “Shalosh pe’amim ba-shana yei’ra’eh kol zekhurkha et penei Hashem Elokekha” (16:16) – “Three times during the year shall all your males be seen by the Lord your God.” This verse appears earlier in the Torah (with slight variation), in Shemot 23:17 and 34:23.

The Gemara towards the beginning of Masekhet Chagiga (2a) notes that the word yeira’eh (“shall be seen”) could, without vowel punctuation, also be pronounced in the active form, as yir’eh (“shall see”). On this basis, the Gemara asserts that the Torah here alludes to a parallel between the way one “sees” God when he frequents the Temple, and the way he is “seen” by God. This parallel yields a halakhic exemption from the pilgrimage obligation for those who are blind in one eye. Just as one is “seen” by the Almighty with His “two eyes,” meaning, without any impairment or limitation, so must one come to “see” God only if he can see with both his eyes. (We paraphrased the Gemara’s discussion in accordance with Rabbenu Tam’s explanation; Rashi explains slightly differently.)

Beyond the narrow, halakhic context of this reading of the verse, it perhaps contains a symbolic meaning, as well. Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in his commentary to Parashat Mishpatim (Shemot 23:17), suggests that the Gemara here refers to the correspondence required between how we look to the Almighty, and how we wish for Him to see us. A person obviously hopes that God looks upon him with “two eyes,” with utmost concern, highest regard, and maximum protection. The yir’eh-yeira’eh parallel demands that we “see” Him with the same degree of interest and focus with which we hope He will look upon us. As Rav Hirsch writes, “your appearing before God must be a mental act of the highest energy, a most positive, the most positive, act of your conscious mind.” The one-eyed man’s exemption from aliya le-regel symbolizes the importance of “seeing” God with “two eyes,” of focusing and prioritizing one’s energy and attention onto his spiritual calling.

Rav Efrayim Greenblat, in his Rivevot Efrayim al Ha-Torah (Parashat Re’ei), suggests a different symbolic meaning to this exemption, as alluding to the importance of consistency in one’s religious loyalties. Certain people, Rav Greenblat observes, have a “one-eyed” approach to Judaism, attempting to subscribe to Jewish doctrine while at the same time displaying fidelity to other, conflicting values. The Torah demands that a Jew stand before the Almighty with “two eyes,” with complete loyalty and devotion, rather than distributing his loyalty among other, conflicting ideologies.