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Among the many topics addressed in Parashat Ki-Teitzei is the concept of "purity" in a military setting (23:10-15). The Torah here issues several commands concerning conduct in a military camp, among them the requirement to conceal one's bodily waste: "With your gear you shall have a spike, and when you have relieved yourself you shall dig a hole and cover your excrement. Since the Lord your God moves about in your camp to protect you and to deliver your enemies to you, your camp shall be holy" (23:14-15). In Hebrew, this command reads, "ve-yated tihyeh lekha al azeinekha." The Gemara in Masekhet Ketubot (5a-5b) introduces a Midrashic reading of the verse, reading the term "azeinekha" - "your gear" - as "oznekha" - your ears. It thus reads the verse as follows: "you shall have a spike on your ears." The Gemara explains that upon hearing that which should not be heard, such as lashon hara (inappropriate talk about others), one should take his finger - which is shaped roughly like a spike - and place it in his ear, rather than continue listening to the improper speech.

Although the Gemara's reading clearly classifies as "derash," a homiletic interpretation, as opposed to "peshat" (the straightforward reading of the verse), we would nevertheless expect some relationship between the two levels of interpretation. Meaning, we should perhaps look for some connection between the issue of proper wartime conduct, particularly the issue of cleanliness and purity, and that of "closing one's ears," beyond the linguistic association between "azeinekha" and "oznekha."

The Chatam Sofer suggests a somewhat "halakhic" explanation. As the Ramban, in his commentary to this verse, notes, this halakha of covering one's excrement is meant to allow for the recitation of prayers. Since one may not pray in the presence of bodily waste, the soldiers were called upon to cover it. A similar halakha forbids touching the inside of one's ear during tefila. For this reason, the Chatam Sofer claims, the aforementioned passage in the Gemara also comments that upon hearing evil speech one should take his earlobe and use it to block his ear canal. As halakha deems touching the inside of one's ear inappropriate during prayers (or Torah study), one should instead use his earlobe when the need arises to block the entry of forbidden talk. Hence the connection between blocking improper speech from one's ears and the halakha in this verse: both involve the required standard of sanctity during prayer.

Nevertheless, we may perhaps suggest a different approach. This association between covering bodily waste and covering one's ears may reflect Chazal's attitude towards listening to improper talk: it defiles the individual, just as unclean matter defiles the Jewish camp. The verse attributes this requirement of cleanliness to the fact that the Shekhina accompanies the camp. Just as the presence of putrid substances violates the sanctity of the camp, so does the entry of forbidden speech into one's being contaminate the sacred spirit that resides within him. In ways of which we are often unaware, everything we see and hear impacts upon our personality and ultimately our conduct. The Gemara perhaps emphasizes that preventing the intrusion of improper speech into our ears helps preserve the our inner sanctity and holiness, much as the halakha in this verse is meant to preserve the sanctity of the military camp.

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Parashat Ki-Teitzei introduces the prohibition of "etnan zona" (23:19), that an animal used as payment for prostitution services may not be used as a sacrifice. At first glance, the reason for this prohibition may seem self-evident and obvious: its immediate association with harlotry renders this animal invalid for the sacred rituals of the Mikdash. This basic theory has taken on several different, specific variations. The Rambam (Moreh Nevukhim 3:46) writes that using such an animal for sacrificial worship could result in an irreverent attitude towards the sanctity of these rituals. The Chinukh (571) explains that the use of this animal undermines the very purpose behind korbanot. Sacrifices are meant to bring one to spiritual purification; the association of this animal to prostitution threatens to contaminate the penitent's mind and heart just as he seeks to purge them of impurities.

A much different approach to this prohibition is taken by the Ramban, in his commentary to this verse. Recognizing the ungodly nature of their line of work, prostitutes would customarily allocate some of their profits for sacrificial use in an attempt to atone for their wrongdoing. The Torah therefore forbids designating the payment for use as a sacrifice as a means of further discouraging harlotry.

Rav Moshe Feinstein adds that perhaps herein lies the significance behind the Torah's description of this practice as a "to'eiva," or abomination. Normally, the Torah applies this description in cases of sexual depravity and vulgarity. How does offering an "etnan zona" on the altar qualify as a "to'eiva"? Rav Moshe suggests that "quick-fix" mechanisms to correct spiritual ills are, indeed, abominable. The notion that the Almighty will forget and forgive through the mere utterance of some incantation or a mechanical action must be viewed with utter disgust by any serious, observant Jew. One can atone for his wrongdoing only through a sincere attempt at the very demanding process of repentance.

This critical lesson is worth remembering during this month of Elul, as the Days of Judgment now appear on the horizon. Elul demands of us far more than an additional Psalm or general awareness that in a month we must stand trial before God. Chazal designated a full forty days of preparation before Yom Kippur because they understood that teshuva is a process, not a fleeting moment of remorse (however valuable these moments are). Perceiving repentance as entailing nothing more than a simple, symbolic act, Rav Moshe claims, is described by the Torah as an "abomination."

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Parashat Ki-Teitzei concludes with the two seemingly unrelated mitzvot of using fair and honest weights and measures, and remembering Amalek's unprovoked attack against Benei Yisrael. Rashi explains the juxtaposition between these two mitzvot as indicating that neglect of the former leads to the event commemorated by the latter: "If you are dishonest in weights and measures, be concerned of provocation by the enemy." In other words, attacks by peoples such as Amalek come as a punishment for this sin of dishonest business conduct.

The Netziv, in his Ha'amek Davar, notes a fairly obvious irony that emerges from this claim of Rashi. The original attack by Amalek, of course, occurred in the wilderness, shortly after the Exodus. It is hardly conceivable that at this point in their history Benei Yisrael engaged in any type of commerce or trade. How, then, can Rashi contend that Amalek's offensive came in response to corruption in the commercial sphere? Furthermore, the Netziv asks, what sets this particular prohibition, against inaccurate weights and measures, apart from all other forms of theft? Why does the Torah appear to single out this specific manifestation of fraud as warranting such harsh punishment?

In truth, the Netziv explains, as Rashi himself writes in his commentary to Parashat Beshalach (Shemot 17:8), God sent Amalek against Benei Yisrael for a different reason. Just before Amalek's attack, Benei Yisrael complained about the lack of drinking water and asked, "Is the Lord in our midst, or not?" (Shemot 17:7). Rashi explains that Amalek's offensive came as a punishment for this lack of faith. How can we accommodate this comment of Rashi with his remark in our parasha, that Amalek punishes Benei Yisrael for the sin of dishonest weights and measures?

The Netziv answers by distinguishing between classic theft and using inaccuraweights and measures in business. A person steals on occasion does so out of greed. Swindling one's customers with dishonest weights and measures involves more than greed; it transforms one's entire financial life into a corrupt system. By including dishonesty in the standard procedures by which the individual manages his business, he establishes corruption as an integral part, if not the defining characteristic, of his income. This extends beyond greed; it involves a lack of faith. Resorting to dishonest practices to secure a livelihood reflects an absence of trust in the Almighty's ability to provide. Someone with a proper, honest living who occasionally cheats is plagued by greed; one whose entire livelihood works on the basis on deception lacks sufficient trust in God.

Thus, we suffer the onslaught of Amalek for both questioning God's Providence as well as for making use of fraudulent money-making practices. When we express doubt as to the Almighty's ability to provide our needs He responds by removing His protective shield, leaving us vulnerable to the hostility of our enemies. The Torah therefore bids us to conduct ourselves honestly in business "in order that you endure long on the soil that the Lord your God is giving you" (25:15).

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Yesterday, we discussed the implied association the Torah draws between two mitzvot - the use of honest weights and measures, and the obligation to remember Amalek's assault on Benei Yisrael. As we saw, Rashi understood the juxtaposition between these two laws at the end of Parashat Ki-Teitzei as indicating that dishonesty in business is punished by the attacks of Amalek and other similar nations. Yesterday we presented the analysis of the Netziv; today we will look at the approach of the Malbim to understand this comment of Rashi.

According to the Malbim, devious theft such as this exemplifies the category of thievery to which Chazal refer as "geneiva." As opposed to "gezeila," which includes cases of frontal theft (holdups, for example), "geneiva" refers to secretive stealing. The Torah views this second category with particular severity because of its theological implications: theft of this type reflects a greater concern for exposure to humans that to the Almighty. The daylight thief concerns himself with neither human onlookers nor the omniscient God. The underhanded crook, by contrast, displays greater fear for man than for God. This specific form of corruption, which exhibits a denial of Providence, brings as retribution the cruelty of Amalek, the nation that opposes the concept of Providence.

The Malbim here elaborates on the historical background to Am Yisrael's struggle with Amalek. Who is Amalek? From where or whom do they originate? The answer is found in the Chumash itself, in the Torah's genealogical record of the family of Esav, presented in Parashat Vayishlach (Bereishit chapter 36). There we read that Amalek - the progenitor of the Amalekite nation - was born to Elifaz, the eldest son of Esav. The Malbim thus suggests that Amalek's attack marked a revival of the ancient conflict between Yitzchak's two sons, Yaakov and Esav. The Malbim cites Midrashic sources to the effect that Esav himself denied God's Providence and believed instead in His disinterest in human affairs. (Some readers may recall an edition of S.A.L.T. some five weeks ago, for Parashat Devarim, where we developed, based on an idea posed by Rav Shimon Schwab, a similar analysis concerning the religious orientation of Edom, the nation founded by Esav.) The struggle between Yaakov and Esav over the birthright, chronicled in Parashat Toledot, revolved around this most fundamental theological issue as to God's involvement in world events. When we ourselves act as if God cannot or does not take interest in our conduct, we lose the privilege of the birthright awarded to Yaakov over Esav due to the former's commitment to the principle of Providence. We are then left exposed to the brutality of Esav and his descendants, represented by Amalek - the child of his firstborn.

The Malbim suggests that the historical backdrop of this conflict can help explain the broader context in which the Torah introduces the mitzva to remember Amalek's aggression. This mitzva, together with the related prohibition against unscrupulous business practices, is followed by the discussion of "bikkurim," which begins Parashat Ki-Tavo. This obligation requires a farmer to bring his first fruits to the Mikdash and give them as a gift to the kohen (representing, of course, the Almighty). By donating the first fruits to God, the individual declares that it is the Almighty, not himself, who enjoys absolute ownership and control over the entire crop. This institution parallels that of "bekhora," the birthright, the very point of contention between Yaakov and Esav. The Malbim suggests that this common denominator warrants the juxtaposition between the mitzva of remembering Amalek's struggle for birthright, and the mitzva of bikkurim.

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Over the last two days we have discussed the final two issues discussed in Parashat Ki-Teitzei - the requirement to use honest weights and measures, and the mitzva to destroy the nation of Amalek. In our treatment of this topic thus far, we have worked mainly with the common understanding of Amalek as the nation that denied divine providence. The theological stance represented by this nation, which warranted - or necessitated - its annihilation argued that God takes no interest in human affairs. According to this position, man may do as he wishes because God has no reason to concern Himself with worldly events. In our earlier discussions, we attempted to identify the point of relationship between this theme and the prohibition against using unfair weights and measures.

Today we will look at a much different approach, suggested by Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch zt"l in his commentary. A merchant who cheats his customers through the use of inaccurate weights and measures takes unfair advantage of his position and their vulnerability given the nature of commercial protocol. For society to function at any level of normalcy, a certain degree of mutual trust and confidence must exist between engaging parties. In a commercial setting, a patron must, by necessity, place some level of trust in the retailer that he indeed receives the desired merchandise. By adjusting the weights and measures used in his shop, the seller capitalizes on the consumer's blind trust in order to increase his profits.

It is this same crime that Amalek committed when Benei Yisrael left Egypt: "He surprised you on the march, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear, and you were famished and weary… " (25:18). Amalek capitalized on Benei Yisrael's disadvantage. Having only recently emerged from hundreds of years of bondage, they found themselves en route to their land through a hot, dry, barren wasteland, weak, frail and unprepared for any sort of confrontation. Aware of Benei Yisrael's weakness, Amalek launched their assault and targeted specifically "the stragglers," those most vulnerable to attack.

Rav Hirsch adds that the Exodus from Egypt represented the triumph of Godliness over physical strength and power. Amalek represented the very antithesis to this notion. As Rav Hirsch writes: "[Amalek] finds its strength in the might of its sword and its love of glory in treading down all unprepared weaker ones. They stepped out to oppose by the power of the sword the first entry into the history of mankind of the people representing the victory of the power of the Word." Amalek argued for the "survival of the fittest," that one may utilize whatever means at his disposal in his struggle for wealth and prominence. Am Yisrael, by contrast, upholds the rule of God's law and morality, which forbids the mighty from abusing their power and requires them to show concern and respect even towards the weak.

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Parashat Ki-Tetze begins with the law of "eishet yefat to'ar," the halakhic mechanism by which a Jewish soldier can marry a captive taken prisoner during battle. This section constitutes the finaltopic addressed by the Torah in an easily discernible unit about warfare, a unit that began iParashat Shoftim. There the Torah described the kohen's address to the soldiers as they prepare for battle, including the various exemptions granted to certain men (20:1-9), the obligation to make an offer of peace before waging war (20:10-18), and the procedures when mounting a siege against an enemy city (20:19-20). This unit then concludes with the discussion of the "eishet yefat to'ar."

However, this unit appears to be disrupted by the seemingly unrelated section of "egla arufa," which concludes Parashat Shoftim. This halakha, to which we devoted several editions of "S.A.L.T." last week, involves a situation of a mysterious murder, and requires that the leadership of the nearest municipality conduct a special ritual to atone for the bloodshed. Why would this mitzva interrupt the Torah's discussion of the halakhot relevant to warfare?

The Ibn Ezra (21:1) explains that in fact, the institution of "egla arufa" very much belongs in the Torah's general discussion of warfare. According to the Ibn Ezra, even an "isolated" instance of bloodshed, a deadly confrontation between two individuals, qualifies as "war." That conventional "warfare" involves armies and nations, rather than individuals, distinguishes criminal bloodshed from battlefield bloodshed only quantitatively, not fundamentally. Even the elimination of a single individual is viewed as a war, and hence the Torah incorporates the halakha of egla arufa within its treatment of warfare in general.

This perspective of the Ibn Ezra, which differs so drastically from common perception, which distinguishes between the individual and national realms, provides a valuable insight into his broader perspective on world events. In the Ibn Ezra's view, there is no "isolated incident," or, if there is, we cannot view it any differently than we would "larger" events. Day-to-day affairs between common people, any exchanges, conversations, transactions, or anything that occurs between human beings, is of paramount importance. The world consists of individuals; therefore, even our seemingly less significant activity bears significance.

As for the issue itself, as to why the Torah "interrupted" the warfare unit with the discussion of the "egla arufa," we may suggest a somewhat simpler answer. Parashat Shoftim and Parashat Ki-Tetze deal with two very different groups of mitzvot. In Parashat Shoftim, we read mainly of the responsibilities of leadership, laws pertaining to the judiciary, monarchy, religious leadership, and military establishment. It therefore forms the natural home of "egla arufa," which involves the task of the city's elders to atone for the crime that presumably was perpetrated or indirectly caused by its citizens. Parashat Ki-Tetze, however, addresses itself to individuals. The laws and prohibitions presented in this parasha are directly applicable to everyone, not just those involved in the national or communal leadership. It is therefore where the Torah presents the laws of the "eishet yefat to'ar," which affect the individual soldier in the battlefield. "Egla arufa" interrupts the unit of warfare because the Torah distinguishes between laws governing the leadership and those incumbent upon each and every individual.

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Towards the beginning of Parashat Ki-Tetze, the Torah addresses the case of "harugei Bet Din," those who receive capital punishment by the Bet Din (rabbinical court; this refers, of course, to the times when the Bet Din had the jurisdiction to administer punishment). The Torah requires that after execution, the violator is hung in public view. However, the body must be removed before nightfall the same day (21:22-23). The verse provides the following reason behind this requirement: "ki kilelat Elokim taluy" - "for a hung person is a curse to God." What does this mean? How does the Bet Din "curse God" by leaving the sinner's remains hung longer than the prescribed time?

Rashi explains based on his understanding of the concept of "tzelem Elokim," that man is created in the "image of God." Though Rashi does fully explain how, man resembles his Creator. Should people see a human being, who resembles the Almighty, decomposing, they will view the spectacle as a reflection of God, Heaven forbid. Rashi likens this concept to a king whose identical twin was a convicted criminal who was ultimately executed. The king refuses to hang the body in public, lest people claim that the king himself was hung.

We should note that according to Rashi's interpretation, the explanation given by the verse for this requirement applies to all cases of death, not merely "harugei Bet Din." Indeed, Chazal derive from here the general obligation to bury the remains of the dead. The Torah introduces this general mitzva in the specific context of the capital sinner - a case where we would have perhaps expected a somewhat more lenient disposition towards the respect for the deceased. This is but one of several examples when the Torah introduces a general mitzva in a specific instance where it is least likely to apply.

A much different approach is taken by the Rashbam. He reads "Elokim" in this verse as "elohim," meaning, as a reference not to God, but rather to judges. Leaving the violator's remains in public view for a prolonged period could lead to angry citizens venting their frustration against the judiciary who sentenced him to execution. The Torah prefers ending the affair quickly, rather than extending it longer than necessary, which could then threaten the court's repute among the masses.

Clearly, the Rashbam understood the verse as limited to the specific context of the capital sinner.

A third explanation of this verse, which involves a third interpretation of the term, "Elokim," appears in the Seforno's commentary. According to the Seforno, the word, "Elokim" refers to anything removed from physical existence, those aspects of life that are, by essence, non-physical. The Seforno develops this concept more fully in his commentary to Bereishit 1:26, where he employs this definition to explain the notion of "tzelem Elokim." This term, he explains, refers to the non-physical components of the human being. (In that context, he also justifies the use of "elohim" as a description for judges, which we have already seen, based on this principle.) In this verse, the Torah considers leaving the sinner's remains without burial an affront to "Elokim," to the spirit that remains after death. After a person's demise, his physical being decomposes, and only his non-physical being remains intact. Exposing his physical remains, the Seforno claims, "curses," or insults, the individual's soul, which remains unchanged with the onset of death and does not decay. The Torah therefore requires same-day burial, as a sign of respect for the deceased's spirits, which, unlike his physical being, undergoes no fundamental change after death.

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