The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

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Yeshivat Har Etzion


PARASHAT EMOR

Rav David Silverberg

 

            Parashat Emor begins with the law of tum'at kohanim, which forbids kohanim from coming in contact with a human corpse.  In presenting this halakha, he Torah draws a critical distinction between standard kohanim and the kohen gadol.  Whereas other kohanim may come in contact with the remains of deceased family members for the purpose of burial (21:2-3), a kohen gadol may not come in contact with the remains of even his closest family members (21:11).  Even in the case of death in his immediately family, the kohen gadol must remain in the Beit Ha-mikdash rather than tend to the burial, because, as the Torah explains, "his God's crown of anointing oil is upon him" (21:12).

 

            Rav Baruch Sorotzkin of Telz explained this to mean that the kohen gadol's status of complete devotion to God's service must overshadow the pain and grief of family tragedy.  In the ideal realm represented by the Beit Ha-mikdash, there can be no cause of sorrow or grief; a person in the constant presence of God and entirely devoted to His service is not affected by even the most devastating personal tragedy.  The joy and exuberance of avodat Hashem and the privilege of being in God's presence lift the kohen gadol into an entirely different emotional and spiritual sphere, where he is immune to the trauma and grief that usually result from personal tragedy.

 

            Of course, as Rav Sorotzkin notes, the Torah most certainly does not impose this ideal outside the Beit Ha-mikdash.  All Jews besides the kohen gadol, including other kohanim, may, and in fact must, tend the burial needs of their loved ones and observe a period of mourning.  Nevertheless, the ideal of the kohen gadol presents us with a model that undoubtedly can and should be applied by all members of the nation, and in all contexts.  Even outside the framework of the Beit Ha-mikdash, we all – on one level or another – live in the presence of God and devote ourselves to His service.  While this connection to the Almighty is obviously far less direct than that experienced by the kohen gadol, it nevertheless exists and must affect our response to the trials and tribulations that we confront in everyday life.  Through the model of the kohen gadol, the Torah commands and challenges us to aspire to the level where day-to-day challenges and hardships do not detract from our own avoda, our joyous and devoted service of the Almighty.  We, too, must recognize the privilege we are granted to live "in the Mikdash," devoted to God and His Torah, and this sense of privilege should overshadow the frustrations and disappointments that we all experience.  Though we are certainly not expected to be the kohen gadol, we are called upon to follow his example in whatever measure we can, and draw strength and optimism from our status as avdei Hashem in confronting the challenges of life.

 

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            The Torah in Parashat Emor (23:15) introduces the obligation of sefirat ha-omer, to count on each of the forty-nine days from the second day of Pesach until the festival of Shavuot.

 

            In a famous passage, the Sefer Ha-chinukh (306) explains this mitzva as intended to express the supreme importance that we afford to the Torah.  As Shavuot commemorates the event of Ma'amad Har Sinai, when we received the Torah, our counting in anticipation of this day reflects our appreciation of the significance of the Torah.  Through our counting we declare that the primary purpose of the Exodus – which we commemorate on Pesach – is to bring us to Shavuot, the day on which we received God's law.

 

            The Aburdarham presents a strikingly different explanation of the reason behind this mitzva.  Once Benei Yisrael entered the land and established a flourishing agrarian economy, the spring months were, for many, the busiest and most frenzied time of year, as the new produce hard to be harvested before it was ruined by the hot sun.  The pressure-ridden work schedule during this period gave rise to the concern that Shavuot would simply go unnoticed; people would be so preoccupied with their harvests that they would forget to go to Jerusalem for the celebration of Shavuot.  The Torah therefore commanded the people to count each day, as a daily reminder of the imminent onset of Shavuot amidst their anxious preoccupation with their crops.

 

            We might perhaps combine the Abudarham's understanding with the more conventional theory of the Chinukh, and suggest that sefirat ha-omer teaches us not to lose sight of "Matan Torah" – our religious calling and duties – as a result of our packed, bustling work schedules.  Although in an industrialist world the omer period does not necessarily coincide with the busiest work months, the message of the omer as it emerges from the Abudarham still applies.  The pressures of the workplace must never allow us to forget Shavuot, to overlook Matan Torah, our basic obligations and responsibilities as a nation.  As we count the omer each day, we should perhaps focus our attention onto our eager, anxious anticipation of Matan Torah, the event that must mold and shape our lifestyle and character even as we are busy working to secure a livelihood.

 

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            In Parashat Emor, God instructs Moshe to issue the following warning to Aharon and the other kohanim: "For all your generations, anyone from among all your offspring who approaches the kodashim [sacrifices] that the Israelites consecrate to the Lord while his impurity is upon him – that soul shall be severed from before Me" (22:3).  God here warns the kohanim not to "approach" any sacrifices while in a state of tum'a (ritual impurity).

 

            The word used for "approach" in this verse – yikrav – seems to indicate, at first glance, that the Torah refers here to approaching the Mikdash to perform the service.  If so, then the Torah here speaks of the prohibition against performing the avoda (Temple service) while in a state of tum'a, and establishes karet (eternal excision from Am Yisrael) as the punishment for this violation.  This is indeed Abarbanel's interpretation of this verse.

 

            However, as Rav Eliezer Lichtenstein noted in his Shem Olam commentary to Sefer Vayikra (Warsaw, 1877), this is not the reading accepted by the Gemara.  Towards the end of Masekhet Sanhedrin (83b), the Gemara explicitly establishes that performing the avoda in a state of tum'a is punishable by mita bi-dei Shamayim ("death from the heavens"), which differs from karet (a punishment which affects the soul's status after death).  The Rambam codifies this halakha in Hilkhot Bi'at Mikdash 4:1.  Thus, Rashi and the Rashbam, in their commentaries, explain "approach" in this verse as a reference to partaking of sacrifices.  The Torah here forbids not "approaching" to perform the avoda in a state of tum'a, but rather "approaching" the sacrifices and eating them in a state of tum'a, a violation which is punishable by karet.

 

            We might suggest an explanation for why the Torah chose to refer in this context to eating sacrificial meat with the term yikrav, a term that brings to mind the rituals in the Mikdash.  The Torah perhaps sought to emphasize that even eating the korbanot is included in the framework of the avoda, and it is for this reason that it, too, requires a state of purity.  Given the special status of sanctity that Halakha affords the sacrifices, even partaking of them assumes a certain quality of "avoda," and it therefore demands the same conditions that apply when the kohanim perform the service in the Mikdash.  Hence, in the context of this prohibition, the Torah chose to speak of eating sacrificial meat with the term yikrav, emphasizing the fact that this act, too, is included in the broader concept of avoda.

 

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            The haftara for Parashat Emor is a prophecy in Sefer Yechezkel (chapter 44) which foresees the service performed by the kohanim in the third Beit Ha-mikdash.  Towards the beginning of the haftara (verses 17-18), the prophet emphasizes the requirement that the kohanim must don special priestly vestments while performing the Temple rituals.  Thereafter, in verse 19, the prophet instructs that the kohanim must change out of these special garments before leaving the Mikdash:

 

And when they leave to the outer courtyard – to the outer courtyard to the nation, they shall remove the garments with which they administer [inside the Temple] and leave them there, in the holy chamber.  They shall wear other garments, so that they do not sanctify the nation with their garments.

 

            Targum Yonatan explains the final clause of this verse – "so that they do not sanctify the nation with their garments" – to mean, "they shall not mix together with the nation in their garments."  As Radak and Metzudat David explain, the Targum understood this instruction as intended to ensure that a clear distinction in status be maintained between the kohanim and the rest of the people.  Had the kohanim been allowed to mingle with the rest of the nation with their special priestly vestments, people might wrongly interpret this to mean that the commoners share the kohanim's unique status.  The sight of a kohen in his bigdei kehuna speaking and spending time with other Jews might mislead people into believing that there is little difference between a kohen officiating in the Mikdash and the rest of the nation.  In order to underscore the unique status of the kohanim, the prophet instructed that the special priestly vestments must remain in the Temple away from the people, so that they will recognize the distinct, sacred status of the kohanim.  According to this interpretation, the phrase "that they do not sanctify the nation with their garments" refers to the concern that the garments' presence among the people might give the mistaken impression of "sanctifying the nation," of elevating the masses to the same stature as the kohanim.

 

            Rav Mendel Hirsch, in his commentary to the haftarot, explains differently:

 

Certainly the priestly garments have such meaning and importance that any act of the offerings done without the officiating priests being clad in them is invalid, and is as if performed by a zar, a non-priest… For, as the garments have to be the property of the community, when he is invested in it, the personality of the priest entirely disappears and he stands there as the servitor of the Sanctuary, and only so can he function as such… But that only goes for the procedures that are to be done in the name of the Sanctuary.  The importance of the priests, however, goes farther.  It is exhaustively condensed in two words of our sedra – "ve-hayu kodesh" (20:6) – they themselves are to be a Sanctuary.  Wherever they are, outside the Temple too, not by their clerical appearance, but by their whole personality, by their whole life, in conduct and deed, by the pure noble model way in which they live it, they are to influence the people to live holy lives, and through their example – by no means through their clothes – prepare the basis, in the lives of the people, for the realization of these truths and aims which they express symbolically by the procedures which they conduct in the Temple.  For the pomp of ornate pontifical garb there is no place in the realm of the Divine Torah.  But rather, the hypocritical haughty assumption of superior holiness worn on the surface receives the sharpest condemnation.

 

According to Rav Hirsch, this phrase should be read as, "for not with their clothes do they sanctify the people."  The prophet requires the kohen to remove the bigdei kehuna before leaving the Mikdash because his job as educator and role model is to be performed through his personality and conduct, rather than through external appearance.  Although the bigdei kehuna serve a vital, indispensable function inside the Mikdash, as an expression of respect and reverence for the site of the Shekhina, outside the Temple it is the kohen himself, rather than his clothing, that must inspire the people.  This requirement is thus part of the prophet's charge to the kohanim to lead, guide and teach by personal example, by displaying the kind of conduct and demeanor that will inspire without the artificial effect of ornate garments.

 

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            Parashat Emor introduces the obligation of the korban ha-omer, the special grain offering brought once a year in the Beit Ha-mikdash from the first gleanings of the new barley harvest.  The Torah requires offering this sacrifice mi-machorat ha-Shabbat – literally, "the day following the Shabbat" (23:11) – a phrase that became subject to a bitter controversy during the time of the Second Temple.  Rabbinic tradition interprets the word "Shabbat" in this phrase as a reference to the first day of Pesach, such that the korban ha-omer is brought on the sixteenth day of Nissan, the second day of Pesach.  The heretical Sadducee sect, however, which denied the authority of the oral tradition, insisted on the literal reading of this word.  They thus maintained that the omer offering was to be brought specifically on the first Sunday after the first day of Pesach.  (See Masekhet Menachot 65-66.)

 

            Many writers have addressed the question of why, according to the oral tradition, the Torah would speak of the first day of Pesach with the misleading term "Shabbat."  If it intended to require offering the korban ha-omer after the first day of Pesach, why did it write "the day following the Shabbat"?

 

            An insightful explanation was offered by the Akeidat Yitzchak (as cited by Professor Nechama Leibowitz):

 

This contains a most significant lesson: Let us not attribute the rich yield of the soil to the laws of nature symbolized by the Sabbath of Creation – as the Sabbath here is interpreted by the Sadducees – but to Divine Providence, of which the Pesach festival is the most outstanding testimony.

 

In other words, the Torah introduces the term "Shabbat" in this context specifically to contrast the different themes of Shabbat and Pesach.  Shabbat, the observance of which commemorates the act of creation, represents the natural order that was set in motion at the time of the earth's genesis.  Pesach, which celebrates the miraculous events of the Exodus, symbolizes the notion of God's direct intervention in world affairs, which can occur even outside the framework of the natural order.

 

According to the Akeidat Yitzchak, the Torah employs the term "Shabbat" in a context where it refers to Pesach in order to allude to the corresponding misconception that people often have towards agricultural success.   While on the surface the "rich yield" appears to be the product of "Shabbat," the natural agricultural processes, in truth it is brought forth through the concept of "Pesach" – divine providence.  Just as the term "Shabbat" must not be interpreted literally, and instead refers to the holiday of Pesach, so must we look beyond the superficial appearance of the strictly natural causes of our success, and attribute it instead to the Almighty's involvement.

 

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            The opening section of Parashat Emor introduces the prohibition of tum'at kohanim, which forbids kohanim from coming in contact with a dead body.  As we discussed earlier this week, in the case of the kohen gadol the Torah extends this prohibition even to situations where a kohen loses an immediate family member: "he shall not become impure [even] for his father or mother" (21:11).

 

            The Gemara in Masekhet Nazir (49a) seeks to explain why the Torah found it necessary to specify that a kohen gadol may not contract tum'a (ritual impurity) even for the purpose of burying his deceased mother.  Once the Torah establishes that this prohibition applies even to a case where the kohen gadol loses his father, it seems obvious that this holds true if his mother dies, as well.  The Gemara explains that had the Torah established this rule only in the context of the kohen gadol's father, one might have attributed this law to the fact that a person cannot know his father's identity with absolute certainty.  It is perhaps only due to this factor of uncertainty, one may have reasoned, that the Torah does not allow a kohen gadol to compromise his stature of sanctity by coming in contact with tum'a.  This would not necessarily apply in the case of the death of his mother, whom he knows to be his mother with absolute certainty, and for whom he should perhaps then be allowed to become tamei in order to tend to her burial needs.  For this reason, the Gemara explains, the Torah had to clarify that this halakha applies to both parents of the kohen gadol.

 

            A similar comment appears in Torat Kohanim regarding an earlier verse (21:2), where the Torah allows an ordinary kohen to become tamei upon the death of a parent.  Torat Kohanim remarks that had the Torah specified only the kohen's mother, one might have surmised that this permission is restricted to the case of a mother's passing, given the certainty of her identity as the kohen's mother.  When a kohen's father passes on, however, one may have assumed that he may not become tamei, since he cannot definitively ascertain that the deceased is indeed his father.

 

            Many writers have noted what appears to be an obvious flaw in this line of reasoning.  If, indeed, we take into account the slight degree of uncertainty surrounding the presumed father's identity, then this should only serve to give more reason to allow the kohen to attend the burial.  After all, the entire prohibition against contracting tum'a is due to a kohen's priestly status, which he bears only on the assumption that his presumed father is indeed his father.  Hence, questioning the presumed father's identity should serve as a basis for allowing, rather than forbidding, the kohen to become tamei upon the father's death.

 

            The Rashba, in one of his responsa (27), cites this question – and an answer – in the name of Rav Yitzchak Tzarfati.  Rav Yitzchak Tzarfati suggested that the Gemara perhaps refers to a case where the presumptions of the individual's kehuna and of his being his father's son stem from two independent sources.  Meaning, two witnesses testified to his being a kohen, and at some later point a man arrived claiming to be his father and then passed away.  In this situation, the son's status as a kohen has been determined independently of the father's status.  As such, it is conceivable that we would uphold his presumed status as a kohen even if we question whether the man who called himself his father was in fact his father.

 

            The Or Ha-chayim suggests a different answer, namely, that Torat Kohanim addresses not the permissibility of becoming tamei on the occasion of a family member's death, but rather of the obligation to become tamei in such a case.  A kohen whose immediate family member passed away is required to give honor to the deceased by attending the burial, and may not decline in order to avoid contact with tum'a.  One might have thus argued that should a kohen's father pass away, and at the same time he comes upon a different mitzva to perform, he should perhaps perform the other mitzva.  Given the degree of uncertainty regarding the status of his presumed father, one might have considered affording precedence to the second mitzva.  The Torah therefore specified that the obligation to tend to the burial of one's father is on equal halakhic footing as the corresponding obligation concerning one's mother, despite the slight degree of uncertainty regarding the father's identity.

 

            It should be noted that this explanation might suffice for the passage in Torat Kohanim, but will not resolve the difficulty that emerges from the Gemara's discussion in Masekhet Nazir.  The Gemara addresses the prohibition for a kohen gadol to become tamei upon a family member's death, and raises the possibility that this would apply only to a father, whose identity is subject to some uncertainty.  In this context, what is clearly at stake is not the obligation to become tamei upon a family member's death, but rather the permissibility granted to a kohen gadol to become tamei, and thus the Or Ha-chayim's solution cannot be applied to the Gemara's comment.

 

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            Yesterday, we discussed a perplexing passage in Torat Kohanim regarding the halakha established in Parashat Emor (21:2) allowing a kohen to become tamei in the case of a family member's death.  Although it is generally forbidden for a kohen to come in contact with a dead body, he may tend to the burial needs and attend the burial of an immediate family member.  Torat Kohanim comments that had the Torah not specified that this halakha applies in the case of a kohen's father's death, we might have assumed that a kohen may not become tamei upon the death of his father.  Since a father-son relationship can never be definitively ascertained, we might perhaps not allow a kohen to compromise his status of kehuna by tending to his deceased father, whose identity will always be subject to some slight degree of doubt.  The Torah therefore had to specifically state that a kohen may become tamei upon the death of either his father or his mother.

            As we saw, many writers noted the flaw in this line of reasoning, namely, that any degree of uncertainty would provide more reason to allow a kohen to become tamei, as this would cast his entire status of kohen into doubt.  If his presumed father is not truly his father, then he is not necessarily a kohen, and thus there is no prohibition against his contracting tum'a in the first place.

Today we will present a different answer that has been suggested to explain this otherwise bewildering passage.  The Chatam Sofer (responsa, Y.D. 338) and the Sefat Emet, as cited in the compendium Ke-motzei Shalal Rav, proposed a theory linking the prohibition of tum'at kohanim (which forbids a kohen from contracting tum'a) with a kohen's eligibility for the avoda (ritual service in the Temple).  The Torah writes in the context of this prohibition, "They shall be sacred to their God and shall not desecrate the Name of their God, because they offer the fire-sacrifices of the Lord, the 'bread' of their God…" (21:6).  This verse might suggest that the law of tum'at kohanim relates specifically to the kohen's role as officiator in the Temple; it is this aspect of the kehuna that renders it improper for him to come in contact with tum'a, except in situations of a family member's death.

Accordingly, it is conceivably possible for a kohen to be forbidden to become tamei upon his father's death even if we question the presumed father's identity.  Halakha allows a kohen to officiate in the Mikdash based on a chezkat kehuna, his presumed status as a kohen.  Once this presumed status is determined, we then apply the prohibition of tum'at kohanim even if we, for whatever reason, question the identity of the kohen's presumed father.  Hence, had the Torah not specified that a kohen may become tamei upon his father's passing, we might have indeed concluded otherwise, given the slight degree of uncertainty regarding the father's identity.  This uncertainty has no bearing upon the kohen's eligibility for the avoda, and thus he would be under the prohibition of tum'at kohanim even while we question his presumed father's identity.