The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

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Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT KI TISA

By Rav Motti Novick

 

            We began to discuss last week the different stages in which Purim was accepted as a holiday according to chapter 9 of Megillat Esther.  Aside from the role of the megilla itself in this process (the focus of our previous discussion), it is instructive to trace the development of the specific mitzvot associated with the holiday.

 

On the first Purim, when the Jews had just emerged victorious and turned the decree of annihilation against their enemies, each of the days of victory—14 Adar everywhere but Shushan, and 15 Adar in Shushan—was spontaneously celebrated as “a day of feasting and gladness” (9: 17-18).  At this point, the celebration is a one-time event, and no mention has yet been made of perpetuating the holiday.  The following verse (9: 19) reveals that such a transition indeed occurred on its own:  “Therefore do the Jews of the villages… make the fourteenth day of the month Adar a day of gladness and feasting, and a yom tov, and of sending portions (mishloach manot) one to another.”  The transition of Purim from a victory party to a yom tov involved the addition of the practice of mishloach manot.  This seems a rather strange idea; what is the meaning of mishloach manot (a unique mitzva in our calendar) and why was the establishment of Purim as a holiday linked to this practice?

 

There are two explanations given in the halakhic literature for the practice of mishloach manot on Purim.  The Terumat ha-Deshen (Siman 111) claims that the purpose is to ensure that the recipient have enough food to be able to have a minimal se’uda.  Therefore, he claims, only gifts of food and drink can count toward this obligation, not new clothes and the like.  The Rambam also seems to specify that mishloach manot must be gifts of food (Hilkhot Megilla 2:15).  However, the Manot Levi is quoted by many acharonim as explaining that the purpose of this mitzva is to increase feelings of love and fraternity between Jews, as a reaction to Haman’s description of the Jewish people as “a nation scattered and dispersed throughout the nations” (3: 8).  A number of the details of mishloach manot seem to depend on which of these two understandings we accept, including the following:

 

1)  If the intended recipient refuses to accept the mishloach manot offered him, has the “giver” fulfilled his obligation?  This is a debate among poskim; the Rema (O.C. 695: 4) rules leniently and the Peri Chadash feels that in this case no mitzva has been fulfilled.  The Chatam Sofer (O.C. 196) explains that if the purpose of mishloach manot is to provide the recipient with food for his meal, then this goal is clearly contingent on the acceptance of the gift by the recipient.  On the other hand, the very offer of mishloach manot generates a feeling of fraternity even if it is not accepted.

 

2)  Can mishloach manot be delivered anonymously?  The Ktav Sofer (O.C. 141) connects this question to the reasons for the mitzva.  Clearly, the recipient benefits even if he doesn’t know the source of his gift; it is highly questionable, though, if any fraternity and love is generated when the identity of one of the involved parties is unknown.

 

3)  The Aruch ha-Shulchan (696: 3) rules that someone who is traveling on Purim cannot fulfill mishloach manot by having a family member deliver on his behalf.  Rav Tzvi Pesach Frank in his Mikra’ei Kodesh considers this similar to the previous question about anonymous delivery.  If the purpose of mishloach manot is to create an aura of unity and love, then the delivery must be performed in a personal manner (“ish le-re’ehu”, in the language of the verse quoted above), not anonymously or through an intermediary.

 

Based on the explanation of the Manot Levi for the practice of mishloach manot, we can explain why this mitzva was associated with the initial establishment of Purim as an annual holiday.  The Jews realized that festivity and celebration alone, while very appropriate in the immediate aftermath of the miraculous victory, would not by themselves be able to characterize Purim for all generations.  Like all other holidays in our calendar, Purim needs to accentuate a significant theme that has relevance all year round.  The trait of the Jewish people that allowed them to fight the threat to their existence was their ability to unite in times of crisis.  Despite Haman’s characterization of them, when Esther told Mordechai to “Go, gather together all the Jews that are present in Shushan” (4: 16) for days of fasting and prayer, the Jews heeded the call.  What better quality to emphasize in our yearly commemoration of these events?  Thus, the creation of the holiday of Purim involved not only “mishteh ve-simcha” but also mishloach manot, an activity which demonstrates that despite the differences which often seem to characterize and preoccupy us, at root we are one nation with feelings of love and fraternity toward each other.

 

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            Following the spontaneous establishment of Purim as a yearly holiday of festivity and rejoicing (mishteh ve-simcha) and mishloach manot, as described in verses 16-19 of chapter 9 of Megillat Esther, the following three verses describe a new development initiated by Mordechai:  “And Mordechai wrote these things, and sent letters unto all the Jews… to enjoin them that they should keep the fourteenth day of the month Adar, and the fifteenth day of the same, yearly,… that they should make them days of feasting and gladness, and of sending portions one to another, and gifts to the poor (matanot la-evyonim)” (9: 20-22).  This is the first mention of matanot la-evyonim in the megilla.  Why did Mordechai add this to what had been already accepted?  Does matanot la-evyonim represent merely a “channeling” of generous feelings toward a good cause (similar to the charity appeals held around the Yamim Nora’im) or does it impact on the essential character of Purim?

 

     The gemara in Bava Metzia 78b rules that money collected on Purim may not be used for any purpose other than providing Purim necessities for the poor; what remains must be saved until the following Purim.  Tosafot there point out that this is a unique halakha regarding Purim, since in general the remains of money collected toward one tzedaka may be diverted to another cause. This seems to indicate that matanot la-evyonim are not merely tzedaka but have some additional meaning.  The Ritva (Bava Metzia ibid.) quotes a startling halakha from the Yerushalmi in Megilla—when someone asks to partake of the money collected on Purim, we do not stop him from doing so even if he is not poor!  The Ritva justifies this ruling by explaining that “[matanot la-evyonim] are not only a form of tzedaka but also a form of rejoicing [simcha].”  That is, the money donated on Purim is tzedaka, yes, but it is much more than that—it represents an additional manifestation of the theme of simcha which characterizes Purim.

 

     This idea emerges most clearly from the Rambam.  After explicating the laws of se’uda, mishloach manot, and matanot la-evyonim, he writes (2: 17):  “It is better for a person to give more to matanot la-evyonim than to spend more on his se’uda and on mishloach manot to his friends.  For there is no greater simcha than to gladden the hearts of the poor, the orphans, the widows, and the foreigners.  For he who gladdens the hearts of these people is similar to the shekhina…”  This theme of charity as a form of simcha is discussed by the Rambam also in the context of the celebration of yamim tovim in general (Hilkhot Yom Tov 6: 18, Hilkhot Chagiga 2: 14, Sefer ha-Mitzvot positive commandment 54).  The point that emerges from all these sources is clear:  when the Torah commands us to engage in simcha, an integral part of that simcha is to include others in it.  Someone who gladdens himself without taking care to gladden others has not only neglected a part of the mitzva, he has also failed to experience simcha in its true and full form.

 

     In the same halakha, the Rambam codifies the two laws from Bava Metzia and the Yerushalmi, both of which make sense in light of this understanding of matanot la-evyonim as a part of the simcha of Purim.  Money collected for Purim is not mere tzedaka but a fulfillment of simchat Purim and therefore must be earmarked for a needy individual’s celebration of the holiday.  Even someone not in need can be the recipient of communal matanot la-evyonim because in this context they still represent a fulfillment of simchat Purim as mishloach manot. (It should be emphasized that this refers only to a communal collection; an individual cannot fulfill matanot la-evyonim by giving more mishloach manot).

 

     We can now understand the significance of Mordechai’s addition of matanot la-evyonim to the Purim repertoire.  This practice does not represent merely a charitable act performed in conjunction with a holiday but is rather an integral part of the holiday itself.  The Jews had already established Purim as a time of simcha, characterized by feasting and mishloach manot (in addition to the deeper meaning of mishloach manot discussed yesterday), and Mordechai told them that this was not enough.  In order for Purim to be a true day of simcha, it had to provide for everyone to be able to celebrate it.  The simcha of Purim, like that of the other yamim tovim, must include the sharing of the wealth.

 

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            Ta’anit Esther is the only fast day not mentioned explicitly in Tanakh.  There is a debate among rishonim whether the megilla itself refers to this fast in a verse (9: 31) speaking of the acceptance of Purim as a holiday:  “to confirm these days of Purim in their appointed times… as they had ordained for themselves and for their descendants, the matters of the fastings and their cry [divrei ha-tzomot ve-za’akatam].”  Ibn Ezra understands that this verse refers to the four fast days enacted in memory of the churban ha-bayit, the only rabbinic additions to the calendar before Purim.  However, both the Rambam (Hilkhot Ta’aniot 5: 5) and the Ra’avad (quoted by the Ran in the second chapter of Ta’anit) understand this verse as a reference to the thirteenth day of Adar, which was declared to be a day of fasting preceding the holiday of Purim.  This verse, according to these rishonim, represents a source not only of this day’s status as a ta’anit but also of its unique nature among the other ta’aniot of the year.

 

A troubling feature of Ta’anit Esther is its proximity to Purim.  Chazal compiled megillat ta’anit, a listing of all the festive days of the year (some of which we continue to commemorate and some not) on which fasting and eulogy were forbidden (megillat ta’anit was subsequently nullified).  These prohibitions extended to the days preceding the festive days themselves.  Since Purim was on this list, how was the practice of fasting on the day preceding Purim justified?  It is this question which the Ra’avad answers by seeing the above verse as the source of this practice.  Ta’anit Esther, he claims, is not like a regular fast day but is rather a part of the institution of Purim.  The two days come as one unit, and therefore fasting before Purim was not considered a violation of megillat ta’anit.

 

     Along these lines, the Brisker Rav has a fascinating understanding of the Rambam’s coda to Hilkhot Megilla (2: 18).  There the Rambam codifies the celebrated statement of the Yerushalmi that only Purim, among all rabbinic commemorations including fast days, will remain in force in the time of mashiach (this is based on Megillat Esther 9: 28, “and that these days of Purim should not fail from among the Jews, nor the memorial of them perish from their descendants.”)  According to the Brisker Rav, this is true not only of Purim but of Ta’anit Esther as well.  All other rabbinic fasts will be nullified, because they recall a destruction whose memory will no longer be relevant.  Ta’anit Esther, though, will live on as an integral part of the celebration of Purim.

 

     The intimate connection between Ta’anit Esther and Purim helps also to explain a surprising opinion of Rabbenu Tam, quoted by the Rosh at the beginning of Masekhet Megilla.  The gemara there learns that the megilla can be read as early as 11 Adar in certain cases (not applicable nowadays); it relies on a verse to learn that the 11th and 12th are valid times for the megilla but states that no verse is needed for the 13th because the 13th is “a time of assembly for all” (zman kehila la-kol).  Rabbenu Tam explains that this is a reference to Ta’anit Esther, when everyone assembles to say selichot and the other prayers associated with the fast.  Why should Ta’anit Esther need no source to be considered a valid megilla-reading day?  This makes sense only if we see this fast day as an integral part of the institution of Purim.

 

Purim is a day characterized wholly by festive celebration and simcha (in the broader sense of the term, as we discussed yesterday).  As happened during the events of Purim themselves, God remains hidden in the background.  We praise Him and thank Him indirectly through our celebration and through recalling the miracles He performed.  Even Hallel is not recited because, according to R. Nachman in Megilla 14a, “the reading [of the megilla] is the Hallel [of Purim].”  If we had only this, we would miss out on a vital part of the lesson of Purim.  The salvation did not occur in a vacuum; only through the intense prayers and repentance of the Jewish people did they deserve to experience the miraculous redemption.  To recall this on Purim itself by, though, would interfere with the theme and the spirit of that day.  But the recollection is nonetheless necessary in order to learn the entire lesson of Purim, and so we move it to the preceding day.  The Ta’anit Esther-Purim complex allows us to fully appreciate the process by which God helps his people—the necessity of repentance and direct supplication to God on the one hand, and the Divine Hand shaping events from behind the scenes on the other.

 

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            The gemara in Megilla (7b) establishes, based on the description of Purim as “days of feasting and gladness” (9: 22) that the mitzva of eating a se’uda on Purim can be fulfilled only during the day of Purim and not at night.  Based on this precedent, the Rema (695: 4) rules that mishloach manot should also be delivered only during the day, and the Magen Avraham there adds that the same is true of matanot la-evyonim.  As the Gra there explains, the above gemara reveals not an isolated detail of the se’uda requirement but rather an underlying idea about Purim, namely that this holiday is essentially a holiday of the daytime.  Indeed, Tosfot (4a) seem to hold that Al ha-Nissim is recited only during the day.  As we will discuss at length tomorrow, the factor determining which day a traveler celebrates as Purim is where he is located at dawn—the start of the daytime—on each of the 14th and the 15th.  The anomaly, of course, is the reading of the megilla.  If indeed Purim is entirely a holiday of the daytime, then why is the megilla read at night?  Alternatively, does the reading of the megilla at night indicate that Purim is not entirely a daytime holiday?

 

     Tosfot themselves on the very same page (4a) address the question of the relative significance of the two readings of the megilla.  Consistent with their opinion regarding Al ha-Nissim, they maintain that the essential reading is the daytime one, and that only this one contains an element of pirsumei nisa (publicizing the miracle), a concept central to our celebration of Purim.  In this manner they justify the practice of reciting Shehecheyanu before the daytime reading even though it was already recited at night (a practice accepted by the Rema but not by the Rambam and Shulchan Arukh).  They do not explain why, given this bias toward the day, we read the megilla at night at all.

 

     We may offer two explanations of this phenomenon, both based on ideas we have discussed in the past week.  We developed the idea that Purim can only be celebrated every year if the Jewish people first relives the miracle and euphoria of the first Purim by reading the megilla (this explained Rav Amram Ga’on’s stance that Al ha-Nissim can be recited only after the megilla has been read).  In order for the entire daytime to have the character of Purim, the megilla must therefore be read in advance.  Then it is read again during the day as a means of pirsumei nisa.  A second explanation may relate to the connection between Purim and Ta’anit Esther discussed yesterday.  If indeed Purim and Ta’anit Esther are parts of one institution reflecting different aspects of the lesson of Purim, then there may be a need for a transition period to indicate that we are moving to the more festive and celebratory part of this institution (this is true even if Purim does not follow immediately after Ta’anit Esther, as in Jerusalem or when Purim falls on Sunday).

 

     According to both of these explanations, it would make sense that the night too, even though not the essence of Purim, would share some of the character of the day.  Indeed, the Turei Even (Megilla 7b) maintains that only the positive commandments regarding Purim are limited to the daytime, but the negative commandments—namely, the prohibitions against fasting, eulogy, and mourning—are equally binding at night  (regarding the prohibition against working on Purim, see the Bi’ur Halakha [696:1] who quotes a debate among acharonim whether it applies at night).  Right after the Shulchan Arukh codifies the limitation of the se’uda to the daytime (695: 1) the Rema adds that “nonetheless, at night too one should rejoice and increase moderately his se’uda” (it should be emphasized, however, that the element of drunkenness associated with Purim is limited to the major se’uda of the day and has no halakhic place at nighttime celebrations, especially if such activity interferes with the celebration of Purim the following day!).  The common practice has clearly accepted this idea, and indeed, for many the most intense celebration of Purim occurs at night.  This is unquestionably a positive phenomenon, as the celebration is in the proper spirit.  However, care must be taken to ensure that the parties at night not overshadow or detract from the daytime celebration.  Even if the latter is characterized less by music and dancing, and more by carrying out the mitzvot of Purim and sitting (or dancing!) around a table, let us make sure that it is primarily through these means—as Chazal meant it to be—that we remind ourselves what Purim is all about.

 

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Question:  How does someone traveling between cities know when to read the megilla?  Is it possible for someone to be obligated to celebrate Purim twice in one year?

 

The mishna in Megilla (19a) addresses the question of when an individual who is away from home in a different type of city (walled vs. unwalled) is obligated to hear the megilla.  Such an individual can, in certain circumstances, be bound by the rules of the place where he is visiting rather than the place where he lives.  In this case he is referred to as a paruz ben yomo (in the case of someone visiting an unwalled city) or a mukkaf ben yomo (in the reverse case), and there are different opinions among rishonim as to how an individual gains this status.

 

According to Rashi, everything depends on whether the person will be in the place where he is visiting on the morning of the day Purim is celebrated there.  For example, a Jerusalemite who is out of Jerusalem (the example we will use of a walled city) on the night of the 14th is a paruz ben yomo only if he will stay until dawn.  Otherwise, he does not need to hear the megilla at night with everyone else.  According to the Rif and the Shulchan Arukh, even if he did not actually make it back to Jerusalem by dawn, he is not a paruz ben yomo as long as he planned to do so, and he makes Purim on the 15th.  Similarly, a resident of some other city who spends the 14th in Jerusalem is considered a mukkaf ben yomo only if he plans to stay until the morning of the 15th.  Otherwise, he celebrates Purim on the 14th, despite the fact that no one else in Jerusalem is doing so!

 

The Rosh simplifies matters somewhat by maintaining that the timing of a person’s obligation depends on one simple criterion—where he is on the morning of the 14th.  It doesn’t matter what city he calls home and what city he is visiting.  The Rosh’s opinion may be based on a novel understanding of the relationship between the two days on which Purim is celebrated.  Really, he believes, Purim is not a holiday with different dates.  Purim for everyone is on the 14th of Adar.  Residents of walled cities simply have a special requirement to carry out their celebration the next day, on the 15th.  Therefore, the determination of who reads when occurs on the 14th, the “real” Purim.  Rashi, in contrast, understands that the different days of Purim are equal, each one being the appropriate time for a different segment of the population.  (It is also possible, though, that the Rosh’s opinion is not based on any inherent superiority of the 14th but simply on the fact that it comes first of the two days, and therefore wherever a person is located then determines his status.)

 

According to both of these understandings, it makes no sense to speak of celebrating Purim twice, even if an individual travels from, say, Beit Shemesh to Jerusalem as the 15th of Adar is starting.  For the Rosh this is clearly absurd (as a person’s location on the 15th is irrelevant for the Rosh), and even Rashi seems in his words not to accept this possibility.  The different dates of Purim are equal alternatives, not distinct holidays that can be compounded.  The Ran, however, claims based on a Yerushalmi that someone who makes the journey to Jerusalem on the night of the 15th (after celebrating Purim elsewhere) would be obligated in a second Purim.  What possible rationale can there be for this view?

 

Rav Tzvi Pesach Frank (Mikra’ei Kodesh siman 19) explains the Yerushalmi, and in so doing, limits its scope.  According to his explanation, someone who lives outside Jerusalem indeed can never be obligated in two Purims, because this would require a conjunction of two factors:  1)  his celebrating Purim on the 14th as a resident of his city, and:  2)  his being classified as a mukkaf ben yomo on the 15th.  But it is patently impossible for him to gain the status of a mikkaf ben yomo after he has already celebrated Purim!  The reverse, however, is possible:  A Jerusalem resident located outside his city can be classified as a paruz ben yomo by being there at dawn of the 14th, and then if he returns to Jerusalem by dawn of the 15th, he reverts back to being like any other resident of his city (with no need for any “ben yomo” classification) and must celebrate Purim on that day too.  Thus, his conclusion is that a Jerusalem resident is obligated in two Purims if he spends the 14th elsewhere and plans to return to Jerusalem by the following dawn.  A person who moves his residence from outside Jerusalem to inside that city on the 14th (perhaps not the wisest day to move) would similarly be obligated in two Purims, by the same rationale:  he can be obligated on the 15th as a resident of Jerusalem and does not need the added status of a mukkaf ben yomo.

 

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After an opening section describing the mandatory donation of the machtzit ha-shekel, this week’s parasha discusses the final utensil of the mikdash—the kiyor, or laver, from which the kohanim ritually wash their hands and feet in preparation for their service.  The placement of both of these sections seems puzzling; why is the description of the kiyor separated from the rest of the mikdash utensils by the instructions relating to the machtzit ha-shekel?

 

R. Samson Raphael Hirsch suggests an interesting explanation of this presentation, and I present here my understanding and elaboration of his idea.  The machtzit ha-shekel represents the contribution of every individual toward the building of the mishkan.  The Torah explicates that no one is allowed to give more than the mandated half-shekel of silver (in the context of this donation), lest it appear that some individuals have more of a share in the mishkan than others.  The question that begs itself, though, is what about the kohanim?  Isn’t it clear that they have more of a share in the mikdash no matter how little they donate, just by the fact that they have an exclusive monopoly over the service therein?  It is in response to this difficulty that the Torah describes the kiyor in order to make an important point.  While the kohanim indeed have the exclusive right and privilege to perform the avoda, this must not be seen as a function of any superior status or increased share in the mikdash.  As an individual, there is no difference between a kohen and anyone else.  His sole distinction is that he belongs to a group selected to perform the avoda; in this regard the kohen is essentially a passive recipient, or an object.

 

The kiyor, more than anything else, reflects this passive aspect of the kohen’s stature.  The ritual washing from the kiyor is similar to the wearing of the bigdei kehuna described in last week’s parasha in that without it the kohen is unfit to perform the avoda.  R. Hirsch points out that indeed, the hands and feet are the only parts of the body not covered by these clothes; thus the kiyor completes the process of “covering over” the kohen’s personal individual identity by transforming him into a part of the mikdash apparatus.  It is fascinating to note that while the verses refer to the use of the kiyor as rechitza, or washing, the rabbinic literature refers to it as “kiddush yadayim ve-raglayim,” or sanctification of hands and feet.  This is not to be confused with the hand-washing we perform before eating bread or praying, which is performed for the purpose of tahara, or purification.  Purification is a  distinctly human procedure (see tomorrow’s discussion of Parashat Para); sanctification, on the other hand, is a process undergone by objects entering the mikdash framework such as an animal about to be sacrificed or a mincha offering.  The kohen’s limbs are utensils, and as such must undergo sanctification.

 

Despite this clear emphasis that the kohen’s role in the mikdash is distinct from his personal identity, it is apparent that the Torah sees the kohanim as special individuals even outside the local mikdash context.  Numerous verses seem to specify the kohanim as having a role in spiritual leadership as well:  “And you shall come unto the kohanim the Levites, and unto the judge that shall be in those days; and you shall inquire; and they shall declare unto you the sentence of judgment” (Devarim 17: 9, and see also 21: 5 there regarding the ritual of egla arufa).  Similarly, the prophet Malachi advises (2: 7), “For the kohen's lips should keep knowledge, and they should seek the law at his mouth; for he is the messenger of the LORD of hosts.”  The mission of the kohen is a complex one.  He is God’s servant chosen as the exclusive performer of the sacred avoda, and in this capacity, the Torah emphasizes that he is a passive recipient within the mikdash framework; his right does not stem from any exalted individual merit or status.  Rather than seeing his position as a reward, the kohen is obligated to use it as an opportunity.  One cannot spend so much time in the mikdash, even as an “object,” without experiencing a spiritual elevation on the personal level.  The result is expected to be the kohen’s devotion of his life to study of Torah and spiritual leadership.  It is the challenge of the kohen to accept his mission with humility, and to see his unique status within the mikdash not as a source of pride but as a challenge to attain greater spiritual heights.

 

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            As Rashi explains in the opening verses of Parashat Para, the procedure of the Para Aduma is the quintessential chok.  It seems not only to lack any specific meaning but to defy logic.  How can it be that in the process of creating the exclusive medium by which a person can be purified from tum’at met, the individuals involved in the procedure all become defiled?  Why does an individual defiled with tum’at met have to undergo haza’ah, the sprinkling of water mixed with ashes of the para aduma, rather than the usual tevila in a mikve that other impurities require?  The existence of chukkim which seem to lack any rationale is not seen as a problem but quite the opposite; it is as an exercise in intellectual humility and in subservience to God’s word that we accept these matters without question.

 

This does not mean, however, that we are forbidden to search for meaning and symbolism in something the Torah declares to be a chok.  Rashi himself, immediately after explaining the classification of para aduma as a chok, quotes a detailed explanation of the symbolism of this mitzva from R. Moshe ha-Darshan!  R. Soloveitchik (in R. Abraham Besdin’s “Man of Faith in the Modern World”) distinguishes between different types of explanations.  An explanation which attempts to identify Divine motivations is futile and meaningless, as is one which attempts to explain (in our specific case) how objectively the para aduma effects purification.  However, a subjective explanation which infuses the ritual with spiritual meaning for the individual worshipper is permissible and indeed encouraged.  Even if the Torah demands that we accept God’s mitzvot without question and without explanation, it does not demand that we continually perform these mitzvot as mechanical actions lacking any inherent meaning.  An understanding of a mitzva which gives it meaning for the individual performing it is a positive contribution to his avodat Hashem.

 

In this vein, R. Soloveitchik suggests a partial explanation of the details of para aduma, and specifically of the idea of purification by haza’ah or sprinkling, rooted in a basic distinction between tum’at met and other types of impurity.  Other impurities result from an experience in which an individual encounters human death in a tangential manner:  contact with an animal corpse (insofar as an animal is a partial reflection of a human), contact with the loss of potential life in the form of menstrual blood or semen, and the like.  Tum’at met results from a much more profound experience; the direct contact with a human corpse makes the individual painfully aware of his own mortality.  He recognizes the futility of the human condition and sees that all of his aspirations will one day be frustrated and rendered obsolete.

 

For other types of tum’a, purification can be effected by the self-motivated act of tevila, immersion in a mikve.  An individual is able, after his passing encounter with death, to experience the rejuvenating quality of tevila and to purify himself.  The situation is different, though, after the intense experience of tum’at met.  The tamei met is too shaken, too immersed in a sense of frustration and futility, to be able to extricate himself from his experience.  He needs someone to help him out of his morass.  This is the significance of haza’ah, the sprinkling performed by someone who is not tamei, upon the passive tamei met.

 

Based on R. Soloveitchik’s idea, we can discern a parallel between the ritual cleansing of tum’at met and the laws of mourning.  Someone who has experienced the death of a loved one is mute and unable to experience normal societal interaction.  Others visit him (nichum avelim) as a way of helping to “pull him out”, not in the sense of distracting him from his loss but rather by allowing an outlet for the turbulent feelings of grief that he is experiencing within.

 

We read Parashat Para every year shortly before Nisan in memory of the purification that needed to be performed in anticipation of the mandatory offering of the Pesach sacrifice.  Aside from the halakhic problem of entering the mikdash in a state of impurity, we can understand this need for purification on another level as well.  Pesach is a time of national rebirth, a time when we recall our genesis as a nation.  It is a celebration of life, and specifically of the freedom to live as God’s chosen people.  It would be inappropriate on such an occasion to focus on death and of the limits of the human experience.  Therefore we prepare by purifying ourselves, in our case symbolically, through the reading of the parasha which teaches us the important lesson of the para aduma.