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The Israel Koschitzky
Virtual Beit Midrash
Surf A Little Torah PARASHAT Emor
by
Rav David Silverberg Parashat Emor contains the mitzva which we are currently in the process of observing –
sefirat ha-omer, to count
each of the forty-nine days from the second day of Pesach until Erev Shavuot. The
Torah's formulation of this mitzva in Parashat Emor became a pivotal
point of contention between traditional Jews and the Sadducee heresy during the
period of the (This exegetical debate yielded several other important ramifications. For one thing, it meant that the Sadducees celebrated Shavuot on a different day than did traditional Jews, since Shavuot occurs on the fiftieth day after the "Shabbat." Secondly, these different interpretations resulted in different times for the korban ha-omer described in these verses.) Of course, the traditional understanding of "ha-Shabbat" as a reference to the first day of Pesach does not exempt us from explaining why the Torah would describe this day as "Shabbat." What does this description convey about the nature of the sefira period? Much has been written on this subject; we present here the homiletic approach taken by Rav Meir Simcha Ha-kohen of Dvinsk, in his "Meshekh Chokhma." Rav Meir Simcha explains that the word "shabbat" alludes to one particular mitzva observed on Pesach: "tashbitu se'or mi-bateikhem" – to destroy all chametz in our possession (Shemot 12:15). According to the Meshekh Chokhma, this mitzva ("tashbitu" – which stems from the root "sh.b.t.") is symbolic of Jewish life in exile (and thus an appropriate obligation on Pesach, which celebrates our nation's redemption from exile). Throughout the year, we eat chametz regularly, every day, and yet before Pesach we somehow manage to rid our homes of all chametz and abstain from chametz for an entire week. A substance that is so ingrained within our daily routine throughout the year suddenly disappears for a week. In a certain sense, the Meshekh Chokhma writes, Benei Yisrael confront this very same challenge each day in exile. Their lives are inundated with "chametz" – with the ideas, culture, values, beliefs and norms of the surrounding nations. Unless we undertake concentrated efforts to resist, the cultural current of our host civilization will take us with it and carry us in the same direction. Somehow, we must purge our homes of this "chametz" and infuse them with Torah values and observance. The "omer" period is commonly understood as a period of eager anticipation to Shavuot, our commemoration of Matan Torah. As the Meshekh Chokhma writes, Matan Torah means our commitment to Torah observance under all circumstances, in all locations, and at all times. The Torah therefore introduces the sefirat ha-omer period by referring to "shabbat" – the day on which we eliminate "chametz" from our homes. This mitzva, to refrain from chametz during Pesach, must set the tone for sefirat ha-omer, for the process of preparation for Matan Torah. Accepting the Torah often entails distancing ourselves from that which has become an integral and even defining characteristic of our surrounding culture. The symbolic meaning of the chametz prohibition must therefore carry us through the ensuing seven weeks, as we prepare to commit ourselves to the dictates of the Torah, often at the expense of the "chametz" to which we have grown accustomed. David Silverberg ***** The Torah devotes a lengthy section in Parashat Emor to the festivals – Pesach, sefirat ha-omer, Shavuot, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot. Curiously, in reference to two of the festivals – Shavuot and Yom Kippur – the Torah employs the relatively uncommon phrase, "be-etzem ha-yom ha-zeh" ("on this very day"). Regarding Shavuot, the Torah writes, "You shall hold a celebration on this very day; it shall be a sacred occasion for you" (23:21). Later, amidst the discussion of Yom Kippur, this phrase appears twice: "You shall do no work on this very day… Indeed, any person who does not afflict his soul on this very day shall be cut off from his kin" (23:28, 29). Several Midrashic sources address this seemingly superfluous phrase used in these contexts. Commenting on the verse regarding Shavuot, the Midrash Lekach Tov writes, "on this very day – this fiftieth day [after the first day of Pesach] is the day when Benei Yisrael stood before Sinai to receive the Torah." The Torah never explicitly mentions the fact that Shavuot serves to commemorate Matan Torah. However, the Midrash Lekach Tov apparently viewed this phrase – "be-etzem ha-yom ha-zeh" – as the Torah's allusion to this function and historical basis of Shavuot. Chazal offer explanations for the two instances of "be-etzem ha-yom ha-zeh" in the context of Yom Kippur, as well. Pirkei De-Rabbi Eliezer (29) comments that the clause, "You shall do no work be-etzem ha-yom ha-zeh" is meant to draw an association between Yom Kippur and an event recorded much earlier in Chumash. In the narrative of Avraham's circumcision in Sefer Bereishit (17:23), the Torah writes that this event took place "be-etzem ha-yom ha-zeh." According to Pirkei De-Rabbi Eliezer, this association between Avraham's circumcision and Yom Kippur alludes to the fact that the former occurred on the latter; it was on Yom Kippur, interestingly enough, when Avraham circumcised himself, his son and his servants. Presumably, Pirkei De-Rabbi Eliezer here describes the fundamental nature of Yom Kippur: the renewal of our "berit" – covenantal relationship – with the Almighty. Our transgressions throughout the year constitute a breach of our collective covenant with God; appropriately, then, on Yom Kippur, the day on which this covenant was formally established, we renew our commitment to the berit through the process of repentance. The second instance of "be-etzem ha-yom ha-zeh" in the context of Yom Kippur is addressed in the Gemara (Yoma 81a), which extracts an important halakha from this phrase. From a later verse (23:32), Chazal derive the well-known obligation of "tosefet Yom Ha-kippurim," that one must add some amount of time onto Yom Kippur by beginning and ending before/after the day actually begins/ends. (It is generally assumed that this obligation applies to Shabbat and other festivals, as well.) However, from the fact that the Torah warns, "any person who does not afflict his soul on this very day shall be cut off," the Gemara concludes that the severe punishment of "karet" (being "cut off") applies only to one who violates Yom Kippur "on this very day." Meaning, one incurs punishment only if he transgresses on Yom Kippur proper, but not if he does so during the additional "tosefet" period. The added emphasis of "be-etzem ha-yom ha-zeh" limits the application of the karet punishment to the actual period of Yom Kippur, to the exclusion of the time added either before or after. Tomorrow we will iy"H discuss this Gemara further, and see how it might possibly affect halakhot of Shavuot, as well. David Silverberg ***** Yesterday, we discussed the phrase "be-etzem ha-yom ha-zeh" ("on this very day") which the Torah employs in several instances in Parashat Emor, amidst its discussion of the festivals. The Gemara (Masekhet Yoma 81a), as we saw, arrives at an interesting halakhic conclusion on the basis of the Torah's use of this phrase in reference to the punishment for violating Yom Kippur: "any person who does not afflict his soul on this very day shall be cut off from his kin" (23:28). "From this very day" indicates that one is punished with "karet" only if he violates Yom Kippur during the actual nighttime and daytime of Yom Kippur. One is not liable to this punishment if he commits the violation during the "tosefet" – the required period of time added before and after Yom Kippur. The Pardes Yosef (to 23:21) suggests that the Gemara's comment concerning Yom Kippur may shed light on an earlier instance of the term "be-etzem ha-yom ha-zeh" – in the context of Shavuot. As we saw yesterday, the Torah writes in the context of Shavuot, "You shall hold a celebration on this very day; it shall be a sacred occasion for you" (23:21). The first word in this phrase – "u-kratem" (translated here as, "You shall hold") – literally means, "You shall call." Quite possibly, the Pardes Yosef contends, this verse might be understood as a reference or at least allusion to the obligation of kiddush, through which we formally "call," or declare, the unique sacred status of the day. Thus, this verse instructs us to conduct kiddush "be-etzem ha-yom ha-zeh." Bearing in mind the Gemara in Masekhet Yoma, it turns out that the verse requires reciting kiddush on Shavuot only on Shavuot proper, not during the tosefet period added onto the festival. Indeed, several halakhic sources require one to recite kiddush on Shavuot night only after nightfall. Although during the summer months many communities have the practice of beginning Shabbat early, before sundown, when it comes to Shavuot one may not recite kiddush and begin the festival until dark (Taz, O.C. 494). The reason given is that Shavuot marks the culmination of the forty-nine-day period of sefirat ha-omer, and it therefore cannot begin until forty-nine complete days have passed since the second night of Pesach. According to the Pardes Yosef, the term "be-etzem ha-yom ha-zeh" used with reference to the recitation of kiddush on Shavuot might serve as a Biblical allusion – if not source – for this halakha. Of course, as the Pardes Yosef acknowledges, this creative interpretation of the verse hinges on a fundamental debate among the poskim as to the origin of the obligation of kiddush on Yom Tov. Whereas on Shabbat it is generally assumed that the recitation of kiddush constitutes a Torah obligation, the origin of the parallel obligation on Yom Tov is subject to controversy. The Peri Megadim (in his "Peticha Kolelet," Hilkhot Berakhot 19), based on a comment in the Shita Mekubetzet (Beitza 4b), maintains that on Yom Tov, too, kiddush is required by Torah law. This is also the position of the Maharil (teshuvot ha-chadashot, 32), and appears to emerge from the straightforward reading of the Rambam, as well (Hilkhot Shabbat 29:18). The majority of poskim, however, including the Magen Avraham (O.C. 271:1), based on a passage in the Maggid Mishneh (Hilkhot 29:19), maintain that on Yom Tov kiddush is required mi-de-rabbanan (by force of rabbinic enactment), and is not a Torah obligation. Clearly, according to this view, we cannot possibly explain the phrase "be-etzem ha-yom ha-zeh" as a reference to a halakha regarding kiddush. If kiddush was instituted much later, by Chazal, we cannot explain a verse in the Torah as establishing laws regarding this rabbinic decree. In an effort to uphold the legitimacy of his approach to the verse, the Pardes Yosef poses a revolutionary theory. Perhaps, he suggests, all authorities agree that fundamentally, kiddush constitutes a Torah obligation on Yom Tov, just as on Shabbat. The poskim who speak of it as a rabbinic obligation simply hold that one fulfills the Torah obligation of kiddush through the recitation of arvit on Yom Tov eve. Just as on Shabbat, according to some views (see below), the Torah obligation involves the verbal declaration, and the requirement for wine was instituted by Chazal, similarly, the Torah obligation of kiddush on Yom Tov likewise refers only to a verbal declaration. Since one discusses the sanctity of the festival in the arvit service, he thereby satisfies the Torah obligation and is left with merely a rabbinic requirement to recite kiddush over wine. This, perhaps, is what the Magen Avraham and others meant when they write that kiddush on Yom Tov is required only mi-de-rabbanan. According to all views, however, kiddush on Yom Tov constitutes a Torah obligation. (The poskim who describe kiddush on Yom Tov as a rabbinic obligation do, indeed, draw a distinction between kiddush on Yom Tov and kiddush on Shabbat. According to the Pardes Yosef's theory, this would mean that on Shabbat, one does not satisfy the Torah obligation through the recitation of arvit, as he would on Yom Tov. The reason, he explains, is that the Gemara in Masekhet Pesachim 117b requires making mention of the Exodus as part of kiddush in order to fulfill the mitzva. Now the arvit service on Shabbat contains no mention of Yetziat Mitzrayim; for this reason, perhaps, one does not fulfill his Torah obligation of kiddush on Shabbat through the recitation of arvit. This is indeed the explicit position of the Minchat Chinukh – 31:5. On Yom Tov, however, the liturgy does, in fact, speak of the Exodus, and therefore one fulfills his Torah obligation of kiddush on Yom Tov through the recitation of arvit.) David Silverberg ***** The final section of Parashat Emor tells the disturbing story of the "mekalel" (often referred to as "megadef"), the blasphemer, who was executed for his public blasphemy of God. The Torah reports that the megadef was imprisoned until God informed Moshe of his punishment (24:12). The Gemara in Masekhet Sanhedrin (78b) explains that the punishment for cursing God had not yet been established, and so the culprit was detained until Moshe was told of the proper response. Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson, in his "Divrei Shaul," suggests that the doubt concerning the appropriate punishment for blasphemy resulted not merely from the absence of specific information, but rather from a fundamental question of policy. On the one hand, the people undoubtedly figured, an affront of this magnitude to divine honor demands a harsh response, and the blasphemer ought to be punished severely. On the other hand, however, punishing the culprit might convey the erroneous message that God is somehow affected by the curses uttered by this individual. For in truth, what difference does it make to the Almighty if an embittered soul hurls harsh words of blasphemous condemnation towards Him? Does He suffer any humiliation? By punishing the blasphemer, Benei Yisrael perhaps express their belief that God in fact does suffer as a result of the magadef. This is a terrible mistake. God remains God even as blasphemy abounds, even if His Name is cursed. He has no need for our praises, and He certainly does not suffer on account of our insults. This question is what led to the uncertainty surrounding the megadef. Would it be preferable to simply ignore it, or to respond harshly? God informed Moshe that the people must execute the megadef. Although God quite obviously suffered no harm as a result of the public blasphemy, Benei Yisrael must protect themselves from the potential damage of this sorrowful event. The magadef had broken a taboo, he had crossed a line that no one had ever previously approached, and it thus became necessary to reinforce the gravity of this act in the people's minds. God therefore ordered the megadef's execution. The Divrei Shaul adds that this might explain the concluding phrase of this section (and of this parasha): "and the Israelites did as the Lord had commanded Moshe." The Torah seeks to emphasize that Benei Yisrael killed the megadef solely to obey God's command, and not with the intention of protecting God. They understood that God does not need their protection or support, that He is fully capable of dealing with the public blasphemy. Human beings, perhaps, require the emotional support and encouragement of their friends and loved ones after suffering this kind of humiliation, but God does not need our assistance. They thus executed the megadef only because He commanded that they do so, and not out of a sense that God needed them to respond to the megadef for His benefit. David Silverberg ***** Parashat Emor presents a series of laws concerning the suitability of animals for use as a korban. The Torah lists numerous physical defects which disqualify an animal for this purpose (22:22-4), and then establishes an additional disqualification: "When an ox or a sheep or a goat is born, it shall stay seven days with its mother, and from the eighth day on it shall be acceptable as an offering by fire to the Lord" (22:27). An animal becomes suitable as a korban only after its first week of life. This halakha is known as "mechusar zeman" (literally, "lacking in time," referring to the fact that the required period of time has yet to pass). The Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 27:11) appears to interpret this mitzva as an expression of sensitivity to the animal's mother, as it invokes in this context a verse from Sefer Mishlei (12:10): "A righteous man knows the needs of his animal, but the compassion of the wicked is cruelty." This verse contrasts the righteous person, who displays such care and sensitivity for others that he is even aware of the particular needs of his animal, and the wicked man, who acts cruelly to others even in his most compassionate moments. The Midrash explains the first clause of this verse, which describes the righteous man's sensitivity to animals, as a reference to the Almighty Himself, who forbade sacrificing an animal within its first week. The wicked man in the verse is Haman, who sought to eradicate the entire Jewish nation, showing no compassion for man, woman or child. Apparently, the Midrash understood this mitzva as intended to show compassion for the mother, which feels a natural bond to and affection for its young during the first week of life. The Sefer Ha-chinukh, by contrast, suggests an entirely different approach to the conceptual underpinnings of this mitzva, one which takes into account the context in which it is presented. As we mentioned, the Torah appends this mitzva at the end of its series of laws concerning the prerequisite physical properties of animals used for korbanot. Accordingly, we might expect that this obligation, too, relate somehow to the physical condition of the animal. The Sefer Ha-chinukh therefore explains that a newborn animal is physically frail and unattractive, and the Torah thus disqualifies it for use as a korban just as it does animals with uncomely physical defects. Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in his commentary to this verse, advances yet a third explanation: "We think that we may venture to make the supposition that it is in this phase of animal life that the beginning of an approach to human character shows itself. Egotism, love of oneself, looking after oneself, is the powerful spring that moves animal life. Sacrificing oneself for the existence of another creature and devoted care for its well being, as occurs in the birth and care for the young, and as shown in the mother love of animals, is the first elevation to that forgetfulness of self, which, in the general love of one's fellow man forms the most divine trait in the nobility of human character. This human-like spark is not to be allowed to be extinguished, but rather is it to be stressed by significant consideration in the animal-creature that, as an offering, is to represent the ideal of morality to which Man is to aspire." Bringing a korban is intended (at least in part) to express or engender a sense of selflessness, devotion and the reversal of a person's egotistical instinct. It is appropriate, therefore, to ensure that the animal symbolizing this feeling of self-sacrifice had experienced the selfless devotion of a mother to its newborn. It is here where we can most clearly identify "an approach to human character" within the animal world – the approach of selfless devotion that the institution of korbanot is intended to embody. David Silverberg ***** As we discussed earlier this week, Parashat Emor concludes with the story of the "megadef" – the blasphemer. Rashi, commenting on the opening verse in this narrative (24:10), presents – based on the Midrash – some background information concerning the blasphemer, while connecting this incident with the previous verses. Just prior to this narrative, God instructs Moshe with regard to the "lechem ha-panim," the bread placed on the shulchan (table) in the Mishkan. According to the Midrash, this mitzva, interestingly enough, triggered the megadef's fateful journey to blasphemy. The Torah requires placing the bread on the shulchan every Shabbat, and that bread remained on the shulchan throughout the week, until the following Shabbat. At that point, the bread was removed from the table and eaten by the kohanim on duty that Shabbat. The blasphemer found this halakha unacceptable. Would it not be more appropriate, he asked, for the kohanim to eat the bread fresh out of the oven, rather than a full week later? Is stale, seven-day-old bread suitable for the service of the Almighty? The question, of course, arises as to significance of this particular challenge and its contribution to the process of heresy that culminated in blasphemy. It seems likely that underlying this otherwise petty argument is a fundamental misconception or objection to Judaism. Rav Elazar Reuven Mushkin, in his "Ha-dat Ve-ha'chayim" (New York, 1956), suggests that in the eyes of the megadef, religion, like bread, can become old and stale. If, indeed, Benei Yisrael are the "children of God," if He has endowed us with splendor and glory, then certainly, the megadef argued, He does not want us to remain primitive and old-fashioned. Is it more fitting for a people of royal stock to eat stale bread, to confine itself to ancient beliefs and "outdated" rituals, or to partake of the tasty, fresh bread, to adapt itself to the newest societal trends and embrace all modern ideas and values? For him, the lechem ha-panim served as an accurate symbol of the Torah's rigidity and inability to change form to suit the pervading norms. He refused to accept the Torah's eternal quality, and therefore cursed the God who commanded Benei Yisrael to practice, preserve and cherish such a Torah. We might, however, suggest a different explanation of this Midrash. The kohanim's consumption of stale bread in the Mishkan perhaps represented in the eyes of the megadef what he perceived as Judaism's incompatibility with normal life. He understood this to mean that Torah observance, living in the shadow of the Mishkan, does not allow for the basic comforts and enjoyments of life. Judaism requires eating stale bread, it stands in the way of an ordinary lifestyle. This approach might explain the relationship between this passage and a different Midrash, also cited in Rashi's commentary to this verse. According to Torat Kohanim and Midrash Tanchuma, the blasphemer had sought to pitch his tent in a certain location, but the people in the area objected. A court case ensued, presided over by Moshe himself, who concluded that the man may not pitch his tent in that land. Embittered and frustrated, he left the courtroom and publicly cursed the God of Moshe. Possibly,
this Midrash describes more than an angry soul
venting his fury at God and His people (though this itself is, unfortunately,
not altogether uncommon). The blasphemer
may have argued that Moshe, the man who spent close to six weeks at the top of David Silverberg ***** Parashat Emor begins with several special laws pertaining to the kohanim, including the prohibition against a kohen's marriage to a divorcee (21:7). This means that a kohen may not marry a woman who had been married and subsequently received a halakhic divorce. The Rashba, however, in one of his responsa (550), claims that Chazal extended this prohibition even further. In some instances, Halakha recommends that a man hand a "get" (writ of divorce) to a woman even though they are not halakhically married. For example, if rumors spread that they are married, or for some other reason many people are under the impression that they were halakhically wed, we would have the so-called "husband" hand a get to the woman. This way we avoid any misconceptions and disquieting rumors when the woman remarries. Just in case anybody would object to her remarriage on the basis of her so-called "previous marriage," she could present a divorce contract to prove her eligibility for remarriage. Would such a woman be permitted to marry a kohen? Undoubtedly, according to Torah law, we have no reason at all to forbid her marriage to a kohen. After all, since she was not, strictly speaking, married to the first man, she is not a divorcee at all. The transfer of a get was simply a way of dispelling rumors and the like, and has no intrinsic halakhic significance. However, according to the Rashba, this woman may not marry a kohen mi-de-rabbanan (by force of rabbinic enactment). Since she did, after all, receive a get, people who hear that she subsequently marries a kohen might reach the erroneous conclusion that a divorcee is, in fact, permitted to marry a kohen. The Rashba brings two rulings in the Gemara as the basis for his claim. In Masekhet Yevamot (119a), the Gemara discusses a case of a childless woman who receives reports of her husband's death abroad. Now normally, a childless widow may not remarry until the deceased's brother either marries her ("yibum") or performs "chalitza" – a special ritual permitting her to remarry. Here, however, the deceased had a second wife, who had also gone abroad, and we do not know if she had any children. If she did have children, the entire obligation of yibum/chalitza does not apply. Simply put, then, we have a situation of a woman who may or may not require chalitza in order to remarry. The Gemara rules that rather than perform chalitza, which would permit her remarriage, the woman must wait for information regarding the second wife. Since a woman who undergoes chalitza – like a divorcee – may not marry a kohen, the Gemara explains, we want to avoid a situation where the woman discovers that the chaltiza was unnecessary, thus retroactively rendering her chalitza halakhically meaningless, and then she wishes to marry a kohen. People might hear about the chalitza but not about the information that the second wife had children – which renders the chalitza meaningless. They will thus conclude that a chalutza (woman who had undergone chalitza) may marry a kohen. Similarly, the Rashba argues, if a woman receives a divorce simply to dispel misconceptions, we should not allow her to subsequently marry a kohen, since some people will hear of the divorce without realizing that she had not actually been married. They will then think that a divorcee may marry a kohen. The Rashba's second proof comes from Masekhet Kiddushin (65a), where the Gemara discusses a case of a woman who claims that a certain man betrothed her. Though he denies it, the Gemara insinuates that if he gives her a get to satisfy her demand, he is forbidden from marrying her relatives (just as he would had they actually been married). It emerges from this Gemara that giving a get that is not strictly required must nevertheless be taken seriously, and we treat the man and woman as having been married and subsequently divorced. By extension, then, such a woman may not marry a kohen. The Rama codifies this ruling of the Rashba in his glosses to the Shulchan Arukh (E.H. 6:1). This
halakha became critically important in a case
documented some fourteen years ago by Rav Elimelech Shachtar (in Presumably, this is precisely the case addressed by the Rashba. Since the woman had married her first husband under several grave misconceptions, we may consider the initial wedding null and void, and thus no get was required. (The issue of when precisely we can retroactively annul a marriage due to a spouse's previously unforeseen moral defects, has become a hotly debated topic in recent years. In this situation, apparently, it was quite clear that the entire relationship was built upon mistaken notions, and hence the marriage was halakhically invalid.) Nevertheless, since a get was given, the woman may not marry a kohen. However,
as Rav Shachtar records, several prominent rabbis
cogently argued for the permissibility of the marriage. Firstly, a number of Acharonim
take issue with the Rashba's ruling and permit a
woman to marry a kohen if she received a halakhically unnecessary get. The author of the Lechem
Mishneh, in his work of responsa
("Lechem Rav," 33), argues on principle
that we are not empowered to apply Chazal's decrees
to situations other than that regarding which a given decree was issued. Thus, the two rulings in the Talmud cited by
the Rashba cannot be used as a basis for introducing
a new prohibition for a kohen to marry such a
woman. Rav David Tevil
of Finally, the Acharonim argue as to whether the Rashba would apply this ruling even be-di'avad – if such a woman already married a kohen and now the question arises whether they must be divorced. The Bach maintains that the Rashba would not require a couple to divorce in such a case, and he meant only that they should not marry to begin with. The Bach's son-in-law, the Taz, disagrees, but the Nachalat David and Rav Yitzchak Blazar (in his "Peri Yitzchak") follow the ruling of the Bach. Thus, in our case, too, when the couple had already been married by civil law and borne a child, these authorities would permit them to be married according to Jewish law. David Silverberg
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