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PARASHAT BECHUKOTAI

Rav David Silverberg

 

 

            The opening section of Parashat Bechukotai describes the blessings God promises to bestow upon Benei Yisrael in reward for their observance of the Torah.  Among these blessings we find the verse, "You shall eat very old [produce] that has aged; and you shall take old [produce] instead of new produce" (26:10).  The Torah here speaks of the material abundance that Benei Yisrael will enjoy, to the point where the warehouses will still be filled when the time comes to store the newly harvested produce.  The people will partake of grain many years after it was harvested, due to the overabundance of produce.  Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch notes that this blessing relates to the immediately preceding verse, in which God promises to increase Benei Yisrael's numbers.  Here, the Torah emphasizes that the steady population growth will not result in shortages of food and other resources, that the increase in human fertility will be accompanied by a corresponding upsurge in agricultural production.

 

            Rav Dov Weinberger, in his Shemen Ha-tov, comments that beyond the straightforward reading of this verse, it might also allude to another vital component of God's blessing.  The consumption of produce that had been harvested years earlier reflects not only an overabundance of food, but also the people's ability to overcome the instinctive preference for what is new and fresh.  There is a natural tendency to constantly anticipate new products, and to look disdainfully upon the old.  Not always will people be willing to make use of the old grain in order to clear space in the storehouse for the new produce.  God's blessing to Benei Yisrael is not only that they will enjoy several years' worth of surplus, but also that they will feel content making use of the stored grain, rather than discarding it out of preference for the new crop.

 

            There can be no blessing without an ability to feel content with what one has.  If a person constantly yearns for something new, he will never feel blessed.  Thus, the blessings of Parashat Bechukotai are incomplete without the promise of "va-akhaltem yashan noshan," that we will feel content and gratified even with old produce, and not be plagued by the widespread obsession with the new.

 

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            Towards the end of Parashat Bechukotai, the Torah introduces the prohibition of temura, which forbids attempting to transfer the halakhic status of kedusha from one animal to another.  If a person consecrated an animal as a sacrifice, it is forbidden for him to declare another animal as consecrated in place of the original animal (27:10).  Similarly, after a person designates every tenth animal in his herd as ma'aser beheima – a "tithe" sacrifice, as the Torah requires – he may not then try to transfer this status onto a different animal (27:33).  In either instance, the second animal obtains consecrated status, yet the original animal still retains its status.

 

            Rav Moshe Feinstein (Kol Ram, vol. 1) suggested a possible symbolic explanation for the reason underlying this prohibition.  Namely, the Torah seeks to convey the message that kedusha cannot be transferred from one person to a next; no member of Am Yisrael can absolve himself of the obligation to strive for holiness by assigning this responsibility to others.  Just as a consecrated animal retains its status even if it is shared with other animals, similarly, a Jew must retain his commitment to the ideal of kedusha even if others are similarly devoted to this ideal.  The fact that people around him already commit themselves to Torah and mitzvot does not grant him the right to excuse himself from this responsibility.

 

(We should perhaps clarify that the concept of pidyon kodashim, divesting a consecrated item of its status of kedusha by transferring that status onto something else, applies only to kodashei bedek ha-bayit- objects that cannot be offered as a sacrifice.  This status of kedusha relates merely to the object's having come under the ownership of the Temple treasury, and thus does not affect its intrinsic identity.  In the case of an animal consecrated as a sacrifice, however, the animal bears intrinsic kedusha, which cannot be transferred.)

 

In this sense, we might add, the concept of temura serves as a fitting conclusion to Sefer Vayikra, which is often referred to as Torat Kohanim, the book that is in large measure devoted to the laws involving the kohanim.  The Torah's designation of a priestly tribe, charged with the responsibility of devoting themselves to serving the Almighty in the Mikdash, should not be misconstrued as excluding the rest of the nation from the concept of kedusha.  The unique status of priesthood must not be perceived as temura, as transferring the responsibilities of kedusha from the rest of the people onto the kohanim.  As in the case of animal sacrifices, "both it and its substitute shall be sacred."  The entire nation, and not merely the kohanim, must remain devoted to the ideal of kedusha as presented in the Torah, and live their lives in strict accordance with the restrictions and obligations associated with their special status of sanctity.

 

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            Parashat Bechukotai opens with a description of the blessings God promises to bestow upon Benei Yisrael in reward for their faithful observance of the mitzvot.  The first verse reads, "If you walk in accordance with My statutes and observe My commandments by performing them…"  The Torah then proceeds to outline the various blessings the people will earn for their obedience.

 

            Rashi famously comments that this parasha's opening phrase – "If you walk in accordance with My statutes" – actually refers to Torah study, rather than mitzva observance.  As the verse's subsequent clause – "and observe My commandments" – clearly speaks of the observance of mitzvot, the first clause necessarily refers to something else, which the Sages in Torat Kohanim identify as she-tiheyu ameilim ba-Torah – "that you exert yourselves in Torah."

 

            Many different insights have been offered to explain the particular significance of ameilut – intensive engagement and exertion – in the context of this verse.  One possible approach is to associate this theme with the specific terms employed in this phrase – "Im be-chukotai teileikhu" ("If you follow My statutes").  For one thing, it is noteworthy that the Torah in this phrase speaks specifically of chukim, a term that is traditionally understood as a reference to those commands whose underlying rationale eludes human comprehension.  If Chazal understood this verse as describing Benei Yisrael's "ameilut" – concentrated efforts and hard work in learning Torah – then they likely saw some connection between the themes of chukim and ameilut.  Perhaps, they sought to convey the message that toil and exertion in Torah study is possible only when one unconditionally recognizes the value and importance of learning, even when its value is not readily evident.  The importance of in-depth study and analysis of even the more esoteric and practically inapplicable areas of Torah scholarship is, essentially, a chok, something that we cannot fully comprehend.  A student's willingness to invest long hours and arduous efforts into mastering difficult areas of Torah stems, to a large extent, from the same unconditional commitment that drives him to observe chukim, those commandments whose reasoning cannot be explained.  And so ameilut – the exertion of effort and hard work in studying Torah – closely relates to the theme of chukim.

 

            We might also identify a close association between the notion of ameilut and the next word in this verse – teileikhu ("follow").  This word, which is derived from the root h.l.kh. ("walk"), has a connotation of regularity and consistency, something that accompanies a person wherever he goes.  Ameilut in Torah learning entails not merely exertion, but also a consistent routine.  A person who recognizes the "chok" latent within the commandment to study, the significance ascribed to learning that we cannot fully comprehend, will display a greater commitment to "teileikhu" – maintaining a consistent learning regimen throughout his life.  This recognition will lead one to afford priority to talmud Torah over his other pursuits, such that his learning schedule will remain intact even when he is encumbered by other responsibilities.  Thus, the term teileikhu sheds light on the concept of ameilut, which refers not only to hard work and effort, but also to consistently maintaining a regular schedule of Torah study.

 

(Based on an article by Rav Yaakov Neuberger at http://torahweb.org/torah/2003/Parsha/rneu_bchukosai.html).

 

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            The final section of Parashat Bechukotai presents a series of laws relevant to the area of hekdesh – consecrating property to the Temple treasury or as a sacrifice.  Amidst this presentation of laws we find a particularly difficult verse whose interpretation is subject to debate among the Sages in the Talmud: "Kol cherem asher yachoram min ha-adam lo yipadeh mot yimat" (27:29).

 

This verse, at least at first glance, determines than any human being declared "cherem" may not be ransomed, and should instead be put to death.  The Gemara in Masekhet Arakhin (6b) records two approaches in explaining the context and implications of this verse.  One view, which Rashi follows in his Torah commentary, explains that the Torah establishes here an exception to the concept of arakhin dealt with in the beginning of this section.  Generally speaking, if a person makes a vow to donate to the Temple treasury the "value" of a certain person, he is bound to donate an amount based upon the representative "values" ascribed by the Torah to different groups of people, as outlined in this parasha.  In this verse, the Torah makes an exception in the case of a vow made to donate the "value" of a person being led to execution for a capital crime.  Such a person, Rashi explains, does not have "value" as far as the institution of arakhin is concerned, and hence the pledge is meaningless.  According to this view, the verse should be read as follows: "Anyone condemned to death among men whose value is pledged need not be redeemed, for he will surely die."

 

Rabbi Yishmael, however, presents an entirely different reading of this verse, namely, that it comes to preclude the possibility of ransom in lieu of capital punishment.  A convicted offender cannot be "redeemed" from execution through monetary payment, as the court is required to follow through with the sentence mandated by Torah law.

 

The obvious question arises, of what relevance is this halakha to the context of arakhin and other forms of hekdesh pledges?  Why does the Torah introduce in this section a law pertaining to capital punishments?

 

Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in his commentary to this verse (see also Ramban), explains that Rabbi Yishmael interprets this verse as intended to dispel the notion that the possibility of "redemption" applies to criminals just as it does to hekdesh.  The Torah in this section describes the procedure of pidyon, whereby a person reclaims a consecrated article from the Temple treasury by way of monetary payment.  One might have intuitively extended this principle to the realm of capital crimes, and allow for a criminal condemned to capital punishment to divest himself of that status through payment.  The Torah therefore establishes that such a person "may not be redeemed, for he shall rather die."  No amount of money can absolve a convicted offender of the punishment prescribed by the Torah.  (Of course, this does not refer to a case where the judges' ruling is called into question; we speak only of the possibility payment overriding an authoritative court ruling.)

 

Rav Hirsch proceeds to elaborate on this distinction between hekdesh articles, which are subject to pidyon, and violators of capital offenses, whom money cannot "redeem":

 

Decisions, which, such as hekdesh, emanate from the free-will of human beings exercised on objects, can, if need be, find a way to be altered or compromised with, but the decision of a judge is naught but the decision of God expressed through the mouth of man, which allows of no alteration, substitution of compromise.

 

The status of hekdesh is alterable because it was initially endowed by the declaration of a human being.  The status of a person sentenced to capital punishment, by contrast, is declared by the court in their capacity as the "executors" of the divine will.  A status prescribed by the Almighty cannot be erased through monetary payment; in Rav Hirsch's words, the law of God cannot be "altered, substituted or compromised," not even through a sizeable payment.

 

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            In the opening section of Parashat Bechukotai, God describes the blessings He promises to bestow upon Benei Yisrael in reward for their faithful obedience to the Torah.  After promising the blessings of rainfall and agricultural prosperity, God then declares, "I shall grant peace in the land" (26:5).  Rashi comments (based on Torat Kohanim), "Perhaps you will say, 'There is food and drink, but if there is no peace, there is nothing' – the verse therefore states after all this, 'I shall grant peace in the land.'  From here one learns that peace is equivalent to everything else."  The blessings of material abundance are meaningless in the absence of peace ("if there is no peace, there is nothing"), and God therefore emphasized that He will bless His nation with both prosperity and peace.

 

            At first glance, we might explain, very simply, that "peace" here refers to secure borders and peaceful relations with surrounding peoples.  A nation cannot enjoy its wealth if it routinely finds itself at war or under the threat of enemy attack, and thus in this sense, "if there is no peace, there is nothing," the blessing of prosperity very much depends upon the blessing of peace.

 

            The Ketav Sofer, however, explains differently, claiming that Rashi actually understood "peace" in this verse as a reference to internal peace, harmonious relations between members of Am Yisrael themselves (see also Ramban).  Without peace and goodwill among Benei Yisrael, material success quickly becomes a curse, rather than a blessing.  If people look to each other with enmity, suspicion and resentment, then the nation's resources and agricultural yield become the focus of bitter contention and rivalry.  Every citizen and every sector will stubbornly and greedily insist on his right to the lion's share, and whatever wealth one person accumulates will cause others jealousy and grief.  Prosperity is a blessing only when there is peace within the nation, when people feel genuine concern for others, and not only for themselves.  When the citizens rejoice – rather than fret – over the success of their neighbors, when the wealth of their fellow townspeople brings them satisfaction, rather than envy, then abundance is a blessing for the entire nation.  But without peace, in the absence of mutual feelings of love, concern and fraternity, the earth's bountiful produce causes only strife and conflict, which is hardly the blessing the Almighty wishes to bestow upon His nation in reward for their observance.

 

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            Parashat Bechukotai includes the section known as the tokhecha, the warning God issued to Benei Yisrael describing the catastrophes He will visit upon them should they disobey the Torah.  Towards the beginning of this section God warns, "Ve-shavarti et ge'on uzekhem," which literally means, "I shall break the pride of your strength" (26:19).

 

Torat Kohanim cites three different explanations of this verse.  The first approach, which is the most intuitive explanation and that which Rashi follows in his commentary, identifies the "pride of your strength" as the Beit Ha-mikdash.  The second view is cited in the name of Rabbi Akiva, who explained that this verse speaks of "the mighty ones [giborim] of Israel, such as Yoav ben Tzeruya and his comrades," referring to King David's famous general.  Finally, Torat Kohanim cites those who interpreted this verse as referring to the likes of the brothers Papus and Lulianus.  As the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 64) relates, these brothers led the effort authorized by the Roman government to rebuild the Beit Ha-mikdash.  This effort was foiled when its opponents falsely reported to the authorities that it was intended for the purpose of a revolt, and Papus and Lulianus were executed.

 

            One might wonder why Rabbi Akiva chose to mention specifically Yoav as the paradigm of the "giborim" of Israel.  Even if he disagreed with the first and third views, who explained this verse in reference to the destruction of, or failed attempt to rebuild, the Mikdash, and preferred instead to explain "pride of your strength" to mean military greats, why did he single out Yoav?  How does this general – who, as we know, committed several murderous acts for which he was eventually killed – exemplify the kind of "mighty ones" that God threatens to eliminate in response to the nation's disobedience?

 

            Rav Reuven Margoliyot (as cited in Ke-motzei Shalal Rav) speculated that Rabbi Akiva here in fact makes a veiled reference to another "mighty one of Israel" to whom he saw a parallel in Yoav, namely, Shimon Bar-Kokhba.  As we know from a number of sources, Rabbi Akiva was an ardent supporter of Bar-Kokhba and even ascribed to him the status of Mashiach (see the Rambam's famous comments in Hilkhot Melakhim 11:3).  In the end, of course, Bar-Kokhba's revolt against the Roman Empire met a disastrous end.  The Talmud Yerushalmi (Ta'anit 4:5) saw the revolt's failure as (at least in part) the result of Bar-Kokhba's violent murder of Rabbi Elazar Ha-moda'i, whom he suspected of betrayal.  Rav Margoliyot suggests that Rabbi Akiva in retrospect assessed Bar-Kokhba as a figure similar to Yoav.  He, too, was sincerely and uncompromisingly devoted to building the Jewish kingdom and making Am Yisrael a secure, powerful nation.  Both Yoav and Bar-Kokhba committed their lives to this cause and spared no efforts to establish and protect "ge'on uzekhem" – the pride and strength of the Jewish kingdom.

 

            Unfortunately, however, both generals exhibited unwarranted violence in the pursuit of this goal.  Yoav assassinated two personal adversaries – Avner and Amasa – and Bar-Kokhba brutally and impulsively executed one of the great sages of Israel due to an unsubstantiated suspicion.  This violent quality cast a dark shadow over these men's achievements and led them both to their ultimate downfalls.

 

            Rabbi Akiva thus interpreted this verse as foreseeing the failure of Bar-Kokhba's campaign, a failure for which Bar-Kokhba himself bore responsibility. Rabbi Akiva expressed his view by way of a compelling parallel between Bar-Kokhba and Yoav, both of whom exhibited great courage, skill and selfless devotion, but also displayed overzealous, unrestrained rage that led them to shed innocent blood.

 

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            The haftara for Parashat Bechukotai is taken from Sefer Yirmiyahu and begins by foreseeing the time when the nations of the earth will acknowledge the fallacy of their beliefs: "…nations shall approach You from the ends of the earth and shall say, 'It was just falsehood that which was bequeathed by our ancestors- vanity that is of no avail!'" (16:19).

 

            In the subsequent verse, the prophet succinctly sums up the inherent flaw of pagan belief: "Can man make a God, when they are not Gods?"

 

            We find among the commentators two different interpretations of this verse, which depend upon how one identifies the ambiguous subject "they."  The Targum explains "they" as referring to the idols; the prophet here simply states the obvious fact that the pagans attempt and claim to make Gods that "are not God," that quite clearly have no divine attributes.  Metzudat David, however, explains that the subject of the clause, "they are not God" is mankind.  The human being is himself far from a divine being; he lives under the constraints of physical existence and human frailty.  How, then, could he possibly create a divine being?  Can an inherently flawed and limited human being produce an omnipotent creature that controls the earth and its inhabitants?

 

            Rav Mendel Hirsch, in his commentary, follows this approach of Metzudat David, and adds that the message conveyed in this verse constitutes "the rent in the bandage which for thousands of years has kept the eyes of mankind from seeing."  He then proceeds to explain to what "bandage" he refers and how it has continued to blind mankind even well beyond the demise of ancient paganism:

 

For this bandage is nothing other than the erroneous conception that Man has to produce his God for himself.  That Man, that mankind, if only they would unite to put their best spiritual and material powers together, would be able to make for themselves an everlasting support for their existence, an everlasting means of their well-being, a God for their lives and happiness.  Such a God for themselves have men been seeking ever since the gates of Paradise closed behind them and they no longer heard the Voice of God walking next to them in the Eden He had planted for them.  This God is what the savage seeks in his fetish, the heathen in his image, is what the modern thinker seeks in the principle on which he would found the permanent salvation of the vacillating and tottering well-being and security of the world.  They all forget that only a God can create gods, forget that they themselves are not gods, themselves are only limited creations of That Which created them and the world, that the world had existed long before them and without them, and all universal happiness can only be founded permanently by the One Who created the world and them.

 

The flaw of paganism lies in the belief in mankind's self-sufficient capacity to secure their well-being.  Just as the builders of the Tower of Bavel believed (at least according to one view in the Midrash) that through a joint effort mankind could build a "support" to the heavens and thus bring security and happiness, so did the pagans trust in their own ability to create "Gods," manmade, self-contained sources of power and prosperity.  Rav Mendel Hirsch ascribes this same mindset to "the modern thinker" who formulates ideas and principles that he sees as holding the key to man's salvation.

 

            Yirmiyahu reminds us that, in Rav Hirsch's words, "only a God can create gods," and that only He can bring mankind the joy and salvation it so desperately seeks.