The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

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Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT KI-TISA

By Rav David Silverberg

Parashat Ki-Tisa opens with the mitzva of "machatzit ha-shekel" – the mandatory, half-shekel tax which served not only as revenue for public funds, but also as the means for counting Benei Yisrael. God tells Moshe, "When you take a census of the Israelite people…each shall pay the Lord a ransom for himself… " (30:12). The Midrash (Shemot Rabba, 39:1) draws an association between the term employed in this verse, "ki tisa" ("when you take a census"), and a similar phrase that appears in the Torah's discussion of money-lending – "ki tasheh" ("when you make a loan" – Devarim 24:10). The Midrash explains this association as follows: "The Almighty said to Moshe: Israel owes Me that which they borrowed from Me… Tell them that they must repay what they owe Me."

What exactly did Benei Yisrael "owe" the Almighty, and what does this "debt" have to do with the mitzva of "machatzit ha-shekel"?

Rav Gavriel Zev Margolis, in his "Torat Gavriel," suggests that the "debt" here refers to the punishment Benei Yisrael deserved on account of the sin of the golden calf. According to numerous Midrashic sources (see Torah Sheleima, chapter 30, note 37), God issued this command concerning the census after the sin of the golden calf. God here informs Moshe that Benei Yisrael are indebted to Him, so-to-speak, for pardoning them for that grievous deed. But why does this reminder appear here, in God's introduction of the laws concerning the census?

Rav Margolis answers by explaining the reason underlying the "machatzit ha-shekel" system by which Benei Yisrael were to be counted. The Torah here indicates that by conducting the census in this manner, rather than through a regular headcount, Benei Yisrael avoid destructive plagues. Indeed, as Rashi and many others note, Benei Yisrael suffered a devastating, deadly plague on account of a direct census conducted during the reign of King David (Shemuel II, chapter 24). Why would Benei Yisrael be so severely punished for conducting a direct census? Rav Margolis explains (as do others) that counting the nation very often reflects a degree of pride and overconfidence in numbers. Some forty years later, Moshe tells Benei Yisrael, "It is not because you are the most numerous of peoples that the Lord set His heart on you and chose you" (Devarim 7:7). Am Yisrael must never view its numbers, its physical and material prowess, as the source of its power and success. A direct census demonstrates a preoccupation in the mundane, ordinary features of a country and empire, and turns the people's attention away from the true source of their strength – their commitment to God's laws. He therefore required that Benei Yisrael conduct a census specifically by donating to the Mishkan – and, later to the Beit Ha-mikdash – to redirect their attention towards their spiritual mission as a nation.

Accordingly, Rav Margolis suggests, we can now perhaps understand the connection between this mitzva and Benei Yisrael's "debt" to the Almighty. Creditors will often allow delayed payment if they see that their debtors experience hardship and do not have the wherewithal to return the owed sum. If, however, the lender sees the borrower acting with the confidence and luxury of a wealthy man, he will naturally demand immediate payment. The same applies to Benei Yisrael's collective "debt" to God. So long as we conduct ourselves humbly, with the recognition that we depend on divine grace for our very lives, sustenance and national sovereignty, He can and will forego the debt. Once, however, we display a sense of self-sufficiency, when we place our confidence in numbers, military might and material prosperity, our "Creditor" approaches us and demands immediate payment.

God therefore introduces this topic, of the "machatzit ha-shekel" system, by reminding Benei Yisrael of their enormous debt. So long as we remain keenly aware of our dependence on the Almighty, He is prepared to forgive the debt and continue guiding and protecting us. But the moment we feel overly confident in our independent capabilities, as reflected through a direct census, He demands payment in the form of punishment for our wrongdoing.

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Parashat Ki-Tisa tells the famous and disturbing story of the chet ha-egel – the sin of the golden calf (chapter 32). Numerous different approaches have been suggested throughout the centuries to explain how such a calamity could have occurred, how, just weeks after the most direct, public divine revelation of all time, witnesses of that event could then make a graven image and declare, "This is your god, O Israel, who brought out of the land of Egypt" (32:4). We present here a particularly novel and creative approach suggested by Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his "Yalkut Yehuda."

Rav Ginsburg suggests looking to Benei Yisrael's mistreatment at the hands of the Egyptians to find the roots of the fundamental error that resulted in the sin of the calf. As we know from the story of Yosef and his brothers (Bereishit 46:34), the Egyptians despised shepherds, which was Benei Yisrael's profession when they settled in Egypt. The reason, Rav Ginsburg suggests, stems from the constant tension that existed between shepherds and farmers, a struggle that can be traced back to the story of Kayin and Hevel (Bereishit 4; see especially 4:2). The farmers, who labored tirelessly to produce food and pasture from the ground, resented the shepherds, who calmly and effortlessly led their flocks and herds to wherever they found pasture, and allowed their animals to graze. Much like the resentment harbored in more modern times by the labor groups towards the investors, exporters and venture capitalists, the farmers viewed the shepherds as abusing their toil and efforts for their own profitable gain. The shepherds brought their sheep and cattle to graze in the pasture and gain weight, and then sell them for a hefty sum.

This tension, Rav Ginsburg suggests, perhaps helps explain the origins of the Egyptian bondage. After Yosef's death, the Egyptians, who worked in farming, demanded that the "white collar" Israelite shepherds share in the physical burden of sustaining the country, and therefore ordered them to perform backbreaking labor. This policy quickly deteriorated into the emergence of a slave class, which was relegated to demeaning and painful labor. Throughout this ordeal, Benei Yisrael longed for the day when they can have a land of their own and devote themselves to agriculture. Had they only worked in farming, they thought to themselves, rather than in breeding livestock, they would not have been subject to such bigotry and persecution. They therefore dreamt about not only freedom from bondage, but also their establishment of an independent, agrarian society, where they could be self-sufficient and not rely on the labor of others.

This yearning, for a self-sufficient, agricultural infrastructure, resulted in the people's frustration as they waited endlessly in the sands of Sinai for Moshe to return from the mountaintop. They had not waited so long to reside in the desert and eat heavenly bread; they had longed for an agrarian society, which they saw as the key to avoiding the suffering they had endured in Egypt. They therefore rejected Moshe's authority and instead fashioned a calf, the perennial symbol of agriculture, and proclaimed their exclusive loyalty to the agricultural ideal. They declared, "This is your god, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt." Meaning, this ideal and value is the purpose for which we left Egypt, it is what fueled our yearning for freedom and independence over the last two centuries. Our goal is not a distinct religious code and ethic, but rather the ideal of farming, of independent, self-sufficient labor.

This perspective, Rav Ginsburg suggests, helps explain how such a grave incident could occur so quickly after the Revelation. In truth, Benei Yisrael had harbored these feelings for many years. The agonizing delay in their journey towards a fertile land awakened the dormant dreams of independence and self-sufficiency that had captured their collective mind and imagination in the Egyptian mudpits. The golden calf expressed their desire for exclusive focus on building their nation economically and agriculturally, rather than devoting themselves primarily to the spiritual development of their society.

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In Parashat Ki-Tisa, we encounter for the first time in Chumash the description, "keshei-oref," literally, "stiff-necked." Before Moshe descends Mount Sinai, the Almighty informs him that Benei Yisrael had in the meantime deteriorated to the point where they fashioned and worshipped a golden calf. He adds, "I see that this is a stiff-necked people" (32:9). What exactly does this adjective denote? To what quality of Benei Yisrael does the Almighty refer with this description?

Most commentators interpret this expression as describing an inability or unwillingness to improve. Rashi and Seforno write that Benei Yisrael were "stiff-necked" in the sense that they refused to even turn around and face those who offered criticism and urged them to change. Along similar lines, Ibn Ezra depicts an image of a person who refuses to turn his head when somebody calls to him; Benei Yisrael likewise would pay no heed to the instructions conveyed to them. Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch explains the term as describing opposition to a demand "by adherence to ideas to which one had previously been accustomed."

Interestingly enough, Rav Hirsch adds that this quality of Benei Yisrael actually came to their defense as God initially decrees upon them destruction in response to the golden calf. God here intimates that this incident resulted from old habits, from the centuries of exile in Egypt and the pagan culture to which they had been exposed for so long. Benei Yisrael's worship of the golden calf did not mark a sharp turn down a new path, but rather signified the difficulty they experienced in shaking themselves of the ideas and practices to which they had grown accustomed. Rav Hirsch writes that this basis for defending Benei Yisrael encouraged Moshe to begin his plea on their behalf in the verses that follow.

Abarbanel adopts an entirely different approach to the term, "keshei-oref." Man was created with a flexible neck in order to look not only forwards, but behind him and to his sides, as well. A person must protect himself not only from the dangers that arise directly in front of him, but also those that are not readily visible, which one must make an effort to turn to see. A person who is literally stiff-necked, who cannot turn his head, sees only the obstacles and risks ahead of him, but not the less obvious dangers that loom off to the side, in the distant future. Metaphorically, Abarbanel explains, "stiff-necked" refers to people who, like animals, see only the here and now and fail to take into account the larger picture or plan for the future. They seek only instant gratification and lack the discipline to plan ahead for the distant future, to consider the greater significance of their actions and conduct, and follow a path guided by ambitions for long-term satisfaction and meaning.

Abarbanel explains that when God describes Benei Yisrael as "stiff-necked," He refers to this foolish inability to see beyond the immediate present. This quality all but negates the possibility of improvement and growth. A person who focuses his attention exclusively on the immediate present will never muster the stamina and discipline required to achieve long-term goals and to direct his life towards a more meaningful future. Without the ability and willingness to turn our heads to the sides and behind, to pursue goals that might require sacrificing our present comfort on behalf of future achievement, we cannot hope to become better people and move closer towards perfection.

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Parashat Ki-Tisa tells that when Moshe descended from Mount Sinai with the two tablets, before he approached the Israelite camp and observed the worship of the golden calf, he first encounters Yehoshua, his faithful disciple. The Torah records a brief and enigmatic dialogue between Moshe and Yehoshua: "Yehoshua heard the sound of the people in its boisterousness, and he said to Moshe, 'There is a cry of war in the camp!' But he answered, 'It is not the sound of the tune of triumph, or the sound of the tune of defeat – it is the sound of song that I hear!'" (32:17-18).

Leaving aside the several ambiguities in this narrative, it seems clear that Yehoshua mistook the frivolous celebrations around the golden calf (see 32:6 – "va-yakumu le-tzachek") as the sounds of warfare, and Moshe thus clarified that what he hears is in fact the sound of unrestrained frivolity. However, the dramatic, poetic style of Moshe's response – "ein kol anot gevura, ve-ein kol anot chalusha" – might suggest that Moshe here has more in mind than simply correcting Yehoshua's factual misunderstanding. This style perhaps prompted the Midrashic reading of Moshe's response, which appears (with slight variations) in the Talmud Yerushalmi (Ta'anit, 4:5), Midrash Kohelet Rabba (9:11) and Midrash Tanchuma (Vaetchanan 2). According to this reading, Moshe chastises his disciple for his inability to properly identify the nature of the sounds coming from the camp: "Moshe said: The one who in the future will exercise leadership over six hundred thousand is unable to distinguish between one sound and another?!" This reading of Moshe's response, as a sermon of sorts, rather than a mere clarification, perhaps seeks to explain the otherwise unnecessarily dramatic style in which he appears to speak.

The question, however, arises, why did Moshe react so harshly to his disciple's error? Why can't we excuse Yehoshua's misunderstanding as an honest mistake?

Rav Shimon Schwab zt"l, in his "Ma'ayan Beit Ha-sho'eiva," suggests that these sources interpreted this entire dialogue between Moshe and Yehoshua much differently, as addressing the very nature and origins of this tragic incident. Yehoshua asserts that the "sounds" of the golden calf express "a cry of war," an outright rebellion against the Almighty. Moshe, however, the great defender of his people, corrects Yehoshua's error: "kol anot anokhi shomei'a." Rav Schwab suggests that these sources understood "anot" as a form of the term "inuy" – suffering, or anguish. (See also Rashi and Rav Hirsch.) The cries Moshe hears are not the declarations of revolt against God, but rather the result of frustration and confusion, caused by Moshe's prolonged absence. Moshe understood that the people did not make a concentrated decision to rebel against God's authority, but were rather unable to endure the tormenting uncertainty about their future that loomed over them as they agonizingly awaited Moshe's return.

He therefore scolds Yehoshua: "The one who in the future will exercise leadership over six hundred thousand is unable to distinguish between one sound and another?" Foreseeing Yehoshua's ultimate assumption of the mantle of leadership, Moshe here expresses concern over Yehoshua's rash assessment of the people's wrongdoing. A leader must have the ability to clearly determine the precise origins of the people's problem; only then can he hope to correct the wrong – if he understands its origins and nature. If he misinterprets the motives underlying the people's conduct, he will be unable to address the root of their wrongdoing and deal with it accordingly.

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Parashat Ki-Tisa begins with the mitzva of machatzit ha-shekel – the annual half-shekel tax. God instructs Moshe, "When you take a census of the Israelite people according to their enrollment, each shall pay the Lord a ransom for himself… that no plague come upon them through their being enrolled. This is what everyone… shall pay: a half-shekel" (30:13). The commentaries explain that the census should not be taken directly, through a headcount, as a direct headcount puts Benei Yisrael at risk of a plague. Indeed, as we mentioned earlier this week, we read towards the end of Sefer Shemuel I (chapter 24) that Benei Yisrael were ravaged by a devastating plague during the time of King David as a result of a direct census conducted at the time. The census should instead take place indirectly, such as through the half-shekel donation required of each male member of Benei Yisrael every year.

The Talmud discusses the halakhic aspect of this issue in Masekhet Yoma (22b). The mishna (22a) described the process by which it was determined which kohen would perform certain rituals in the Mikdash, a process that included a lottery, which necessitated a headcount of all the kohanim vying for the privilege. The mishna tells that the supervisor would have the kohanim display a finger, and he would count the fingers to arrive at the number of competing kohanim. The Gemara explains that fingers, rather than people, were counted to avoid violating the prohibition against direct counting, and the Gemara proceeds to cite a source for this prohibition from Sefer Shemuel I (15:4), where King Shaul counted his army by having each soldier bring a sheep. The question, of course, arises, why did the Gemara not bring a seemingly more obvious source – the verses here in Parashat Ki-Tisa? After all, the Torah here states explicitly that Benei Yisrael must not be counted directly, as a direct census would put them in danger. Why, then, does the Gemara look elsewhere for a basis for this prohibition?

The Maharsha answers that in truth, the straightforward reading of these verses does not necessarily result in an explicit prohibition. Twice in this section the Torah speaks of the half-shekel donation as a means of atonement: "The rich shall not pay more and the poor shall not pay less… when giving the Lord's offering as expiation" (30:15); "You shall take the expiation money from the Israelites" (30:16). Conceivably, the Maharsha argues, God here requires the half-shekel tax not due to a general prohibition against direct counting, but rather to serve the specific purpose of earning Benei Yisrael atonement for the sin of the golden calf. The threat of plague that the Torah mentions here might not refer at all to the disastrous results of a direct census, but rather the punishment that Benei Yisrael deserved on account of the golden calf, which they could avoid by offering this half-shekel gift to the Mishkan. The Gemara thus had to resort to another Scriptural basis for the prohibition against direct counting.

Rav Simcha Ziskind Broyde zt"l, Rosh Yeshiva of the Chevron Yeshiva (as cited in the book, "Sam Derekh"), suggested a different answer, namely, that here in Parashat Ki-Tisa the Torah refers only to a census of the entire nation. He cites Rabbenu Eliyahu Mizrachi as commenting that the prohibition introduced here in Parashat Ki-Tisa refers specifically to a nationwide census. Therefore, as the Gemara sought to explain why the kohanim in the Temple were counted by fingers, it resorted to a different source.

As Rav Broyde notes, however, the Rambam clearly did not subscribe to this distinction. In his commentary to that mishna in Masekhet Yoma, the Rambam explains that the kohanim could not be counted directly, through a headcount, because of this prohibition, and he concludes, "and the incident regarding David is well-known." The Rambam clearly equates the prohibition that applied to the counting of on-duty kohanim in the Temple with David's violation when he conducted a nationwide census. A different answer is needed, then, to explain according to the Rambam's view why the Gemara did not cite the verses in Parashat Ki-Tisa as the basis for this prohibition.

Rav Broyde therefore suggests another, simple explanation. If Parashat Ki-Tisa were the only source for the prohibition against direct counting, we would have required the half-shekel system whenever Jews are counted. The Gemara looked for a source to the fact that we may conduct an indirect count through some other means, besides the half-shekel, which was required only for a nationwide census. For this reason, perhaps, the Gemara enlisted the account of Shaul's preparations for war against Amalek, when he counted his troops through sheep.

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In Parashat Ki-Tisa, God concludes His presentation of the laws concerning the Mishkan with a discussion of the obligation of Shabbat observance. At one point in this discussion, God describes the Shabbat as "holy to the Lord" (31:15), a description from which the Mekhilta extracts an interesting halakha. In Sefer Vayikra, we find a lengthy exposition regarding the various festivals observed throughout the year, which God introduces by commanding, "These are My fixed times… which you shall proclaim as sacred occasions" (Vayikra 23:2). This verse, the Mekhilta here explains, establishes the role of the Sanhedrin to determine the festivals; they are responsible for determining when new months begin, thereby determining as well when the "sacred occasions" occur. Now immediately following this introduction to the section dealing with the festivals, God mentions the obligation to observe Shabbat (Vayikra 23:3), which might suggest that the "proclamation" of Shabbat, as well, is the responsibility of the Sanhedrin. For this reason, the Mekhilta explains, God says here in Parashat Ki-Tisa that Shabbat is "holy to the Lord." The Mekhilta writes: "Perhaps just as the sanctity of the festivals are under the authority of the Court, so shall the sanctity of Shabbat be under the authority of the court? The verse states: 'on the seventh day there shall be a sabbath of complete rest, holy to the Lord' – Shabbat is under the power of the Lord, and is not under the power of the Court."

A similar discussion appears in the Talmud (Bava Batra 121a; Nedarim 78a), where Chazal derive this point from the aforementioned verse in Sefer Vayikra: "These are My fixed times… which you shall proclaim as sacred occasions." The Torah's emphasis on "My fixed times," the Gemara claims, indicates that not all the "sacred occasions" are proclaimed by Benei Yisrael. The Gemara infers that Shabbat, as opposed to the rest of the festivals, does not require the Court's declaration.

The question arises, what sort of proclamation did the Gemara envision with regard to Shabbat, that they required a specific inference that it is unnecessary? The festivals, as we explained, were proclaimed by the Sanhedrin through the process of "kiddush ha-chodesh" – through their declaration of the new month based on testimony to the sighting of the new moon. But what would have been the parallel process with regard to Shabbat, had the Torah not specifically indicated that no such process is required?

Rav Menachem Kasher, in his "Torah Sheleima" (vol. 21, appendix 12), anthologizes numerous approaches taken to explain what the process of "Shabbat proclamation" would have entailed. We will present here several of the explanations he cites.

The Rashbam, in his commentary to Masekhet Bava Batra, as well as the Rosh and the Ran, in their respective commentaries to Masekhet Nedarim, explain that the Gemara envisioned the Sanhedrin's formal proclamation of Sunday as the first day of the week. Just as the Court proclaims the first of the month, thereby establishing the festivals, so did Chazal raise the possibility that it would issue a formal proclamation on the first day of each week, thereby declaring the sanctity of Shabbat.

The Ra'avad, however, in his commentary to Torat Kohanim (Parashat Emor), understood that Chazal considered requiring the Court to formally proclaim the sanctity of each month's Shabbatot on Rosh Chodesh. Meaning, at the same time when the Sanhedrin formally declares the first of the month, on Rosh Chodesh, they should – according to the initial hypothesis – formally proclaim the Shabbatot of that month, as well. Since the Torah includes Shabbat in its list of festivals, it should perhaps require the Court's proclamation at the same time when it proclaims the other festivals – on Rosh Chodesh.

An entirely different explanation is suggested by Rabbenu Avraham of Montpelier (known as "Rabbenu Avraham Min Ha-har"), in his commentary to Masekhet Nedarim. According to his explanation, the intended association between Shabbat and the festivals referred not to the process of "kiddush ha-chodesh" – the Court's determination of the first of the month, but rather to the institution of "ibur shanim" – leap years. The Sanhedrin has the power and the duty to add an extra month during the year (such as this year) in order to maintain the synchronization between the Jewish lunar calendar and the seasonal cycle. In effect, then, the Sanhedrin has the power to delay the onset of the festivals by a full four weeks. The Mekhilta and the Gemara establish that no parallel process exists with respect to Shabbat. Never will the Sanhedrin have the power to delay the onset of Shabbat; it occurs independent of any human proclamation.

As Rav Kasher notes, the Midrash Bereishit Rabba (11:9) derives this principle from a different verse, from the famous "vayekhulu" section in Parashat Bereishit, which we include in our Shabbat prayers and kiddush. The Torah there writes, "God blessed the seventh day and declared it holy" (Bereishit 2:3). According to one view in the Midrash, this special status conferred upon Shabbat immediately after creation refers to its independence of any human intervention; the day of Shabbat is sacred solely by virtue of God's declaration to this effect. Therefore, unlike the festivals, the status of which is determined by Benei Yisrael, Shabbat is "sacred to the Lord," it is determined holy only by the Almighty Himself.

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Towards the beginning of Parashat Ki-Tisa, we read the commandment concerning the "kiyor" – the faucet situated in the courtyard of the Mishkan, from which the kohanim would wash before entering the Mishkan to perform the service (30:17-21). The Rashba, in one of his responsa (1:191), claims that this obligation incumbent upon the kohanim, to wash themselves before beginning the service, forms the basis of the requirement applicable even nowadays to wash one's hands before reciting shacharit (the morning prayer service). The Gemara in Masekhet Berakhot (14b-15a) mentions that in the morning, one should perform his bodily functions, wash his hands, lay tefillin and conduct the prayer service. The Rashba explains that the requirement to wash one's hands stems from the comparison between a person preparing to serve his Creator and a kohen who prepares to perform the Temple service. Just as the kohen must wash in honor of his service, so are we obliged to wash our hands in preparation for our encounter with the Almighty.

The Rambam, in codifying this obligation to wash before praying (Hilkhot Tefila 4:3), distinguishes between shacharit, the morning service, and other prayer services. He writes that whereas generally before praying one must wash only his hands, before shacharit one must wash his hands, face and feet. The Ra'avad writes that he does not know from where the Rambam derived the obligation to wash one's feet before reciting shacharit. Indeed, the aforementioned Gemara in Masekhet Berakhot speaks only of washing one's hands, and makes no mention of washing one's feet in preparation for shacharit.

The Kesef Mishneh suggests that the Rambam derived this ruling from a passage in Masekhet Shabbat (50b): "A person washes his face, hands and feet on behalf of his Maker." The Rambam perhaps understood this passage as requiring one to wash his hands, face and feet on a daily basis, "on behalf of his Maker" – in preparation for prayer. The Ra'avad, by contrast, likely adopted Rashi's explanation of this passage, which views it as granting permission, rather than introducing an obligation. According to Rashi, the Gemara here establishes that although Halakha forbids a man from engaging in certain forms of cosmetic grooming, he is permitted to wash himself to ensure a generally becoming appearance. The Rambam, however, perhaps understood this Gemara as requiring a person to wash his hands, face and feet before praying in the morning.

Rav Barukh Ha-levi Epstein, in his "Torah Temima," suggests that the Rambam derived this ruling from the Torah's discussion in Parashat Ki-Tisa. The Torah explicitly requires kohanim to wash their feet and hands before entering the Mishkan (30:19, 21). Now according to Rashba's theory, that the daily obligation to wash before prayers is modeled after the kohanim's washing in the Temple courtyard, we should expect a general correspondence between the daily washing and that of the kohanim. Hence, the Rambam, who likely embraced the Rashba's position, required that a person wash his hands and feet each morning.

But if so, why would the Rambam distinguish between shacharit and other prayer services? Why does he require washing one's feet only before shacharit, and not before the other services?

The "Torah Temima" explains that the Rambam's position becomes abundantly clear in light of another, controversial ruling of his regarding tefila. The Rambam famously maintains that daily prayer constitutes a Torah obligation, but Torah law requires only a single prayer service each day; Chazal later established the three prayer services. Conceivably, the washing required by force of our resemblance of the kohanim applies only before reciting the daily, Torah-obligated prayer service. Before shacharit, therefore, as we prepare to fulfill our Biblical command to come before the Almighty in prayer, we resemble the kohanim approaching the Temple grounds to perform the service. The other prayer services, however, which were ordained by Chazal, are of a lower stature, and thus cannot be compared to the kohanim's service in the Temple. Therefore, in preparation for the other prayer services, Halakha requires merely a general state of cleanliness, which can be achieved by washing only one's hands. The shacharit service, however, requires preparation similar to that of the kohanim, and the Rambam therefore requires washing one's feet, as well.

We should note that the Torah Temima's approach fails to explain why the Rambam requires washing one's face, as well, before reciting shacharit. The kohanim were required to wash only their hands and feet, not their faces. It is therefore difficult to understand why, if the Rambam's ruling is based upon the kohanim's washing in the Temple, he requires one to wash his face, as well.

In any event, the Rambam's position in this regard has not been accepted by later Halakhic authorities; one is therefore required to wash only one's hands before praying, and need not wash his face and feet, even before shacharit.