Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT BECHUKOTAI

BY RAV DAVID SILVERBERG

Parashat Bechukotai begins with a description of the blessings God promises to bestow upon Benei Yisrael should they observe His commandments. These blessings, which include peace and security (26:6-8), material prosperity (26:3-5, 9-10) and God's residence among the nation (26:11-12), are generally seen as a portrayal of the Messianic era.

Accordingly, the Ra'avad, in his critique of the Rambam's Mishneh Torah, cites a phrase from these verses as proof against the Rambam's famous theory concerning the nature of life during the Messianic era. The Rambam (Hilkhot Melakhim 12:1) holds that the natural order will remain fully intact after Mashiach's arrival, Am Yisrael's return to their land, the rebuilding of the Temple, and so on. He boldly asserts that the prophecies that speak of the revocation of certain natural realities, particularly Yeshayahu's famous description of the "wolf living with the sheep" (Yeshayahu 11:6), are allegorical, and refer to the peaceful relations that will be established between warring peoples. The Ra'avad challenges the Rambam's view in light of God's promise here in Parashat Bechukotai, "I will eliminate evil beasts from the land" (26:6). Clearly, the presence of dangerous animals on earth is part of the natural order. If, indeed, God promises to one day eliminate them, then He appears to describe the cessation or at least significant modification of the natural state of affairs with which we are currently familiar.

Numerous different answers have been suggested to defend the Rambam's position. The Radbaz and Migdal Oz claim that just as the Rambam interpreted the aforementioned verses in Yeshayahu as allegorical references to peaceful relations, so might he have understood the elimination of wild beasts in a similar vein. These "evil beasts," perhaps, are also metaphoric for hostile nations. We should note that the Midrashic work Mishnat Rabbi Eliezer, as cited in Torah Sheleima (to this verse in Parashat Bechukotai), indeed interprets "evil beasts" here to mean enemy nations. In fact, this answer seems so obvious that one might wonder how it escaped the Ra'avad. The Mirkevet Ha-mishneh (among the classic works on the Mishneh Torah) suggests that the Ra'avad perhaps distinguished between the Chumash and Nevi'im with regard to the possibility of allegorical interpretations. Whereas the prophets employed literally devices such as metaphoric imagery, the Ra'avad perhaps felt that such techniques cannot be ascribed to the five books of the Torah, which God dictated directly to Moshe.

In any event, we find other answers, as well. The Radbaz draws an intriguing distinction between Eretz Yisrael and the rest of the earth. When the Rambam speaks of the natural order proceeding as usual in Messianic times, he refers to the world generally, but not to the Land of Israel. In Parashat Bechukotai, however, the Torah mentions that evil beasts will be barred "from the land," which the Radbaz takes to mean specifically Eretz Yisrael, where life will be of a much different quality, and not necessarily correspond to the familiar courses of nature.

It should be noted that the Rambam himself makes no mention whatsoever of such a distinction, and appears to apply his theory to the entire earth, including Eretz Yisrael. Thus, the Radbaz's distinction, though worth contemplating in its own right, does not seem sufficient to explain the Rambam's position.

Tomorrow we will iy"H present some of the other answers suggested to defend the Rambam's view.

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Yesterday, we began discussing the verse in Parashat Bechukotai in which God promises that should Benei Yisrael faithfully observe the mitzvot, God will "eliminate evil beasts from the land" (26:6). The Ra'avad cites this verse as a challenge to the Rambam's theory presented in Hilkhot Melakhim (12:1) that the natural order will remain fully intact even after Mashiach's arrival. Seemingly, as the Ra'avad argues, the promise that evil beasts will one day be eliminated signifies the cessation or at least modification of nature during the Messianic era.

Rav Moshe Leib Shachor, in his Avnei Shoham, suggests that this issue hinges on a debate recorded in Torat Kohanim and discussed by the Ramban in his commentary to this verse. Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Shimon argue as to whether this verse foresees the elimination of vicious animals themselves, or the elimination of their hostilities. Rabbi Yehuda claims that God will eradicate the actual species of beasts, whereas Rabbi Shimon is of the view that the animals will remain, but will act more tenderly. Rav Shachor explains that according to Rabbi Shimon, the natural state of affairs will indeed undergo a drastic transformation with the advent of the Messianic era, as expressed by the newfound benevolence of formerly vicious animals. Rabbi Yehuda, however, held that the natural order will remain in force even in Messianic times, only without the presence of wild beasts. This verse thus does not indicate a modification of the laws of nature, but simply promises that dangerous beasts will one day no longer roam the earth.

Of course, this explanation works on the assumption that the elimination of wild beasts does not amount to a modification of the natural order. Such an assumption, however, seems hard to accept. If, indeed, the Rambam affirms the continuation of the familiar laws of nature even after the arrival of Mashiach, then he presumably would refuse to accept the sudden disappearance of dozens or perhaps hundreds of species from the animal kingdom.

Indeed, other Acharonim suggested the precise opposite approach, namely, that the cessation of hostile activity on the part of wild beasts does not necessarily deviate from the natural order. The Mirkevet Ha-mishneh enlists a verse from Parashat Noach describing the relationship that God establishes between man and beast: "The fear and dread of you shall be upon all the beasts of the earth and upon all the birds of the sky" (Bereishit 9:2). Wherever human beings assemble in large numbers and establish communities, harmful animals generally stay away. Threatening beasts roam only in areas of desolation. Thus, in this verse God promises that Benei Yisrael's communities will remain intact in their land, with the natural result being that "I will eliminate evil beasts from the land." This expresses not a supernatural existence, but rather the natural consequences of the nation's prosperity and industrial growth.

Perhaps even more compellingly, Rav Yechiel Michel Epstein, in his Arukh Ha-shulchan He-atid (Hilkhot Melakhim 81:8), explains quite simply that God's protection of Benei Yisrael from harm does not require a modification of the natural order. God promises to manipulate – rather than overturn – nature in such a way that they will suffer no harm from wild beasts. Thus, this verse speaks of natural protection, rather than a supernatural state of affairs.

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Towards the end of Parashat Bechukotai we encounter the prohibition of temura, forbidding one from attempting to substitute an animal for one that had been consecrated as hekdesh. The Torah writes, "If [the vow concerns] any animal that may be brought as an offering to the Lord… One may not exchange or substitute another for it, either good for bad, or bad for good" (27:9-10). Beyond establishing a prohibition against attempting such substitution, the Torah also renders such attempts futile: "if one does substitute one animal for another, the thing vowed and its substitute shall both be holy" (27:10).

The Rambam, in the closing passage of Hilkhot Temura, speculates as to the underlying reason behind this prohibition – after acknowledging that ultimately all mitzvot are divine decrees whose true intention and purpose are not necessarily within the grasp of the human intellect. He suggests that people might regret having consecrated a costly animal as a sacrifice and therefore seek to cut their losses, so-to-speak, by substituting a less expensive animal. The Torah therefore imposed a blanket prohibition against any substitution – even of a higher quality animal for a lower quality one – so as to prevent such machinations. The Rambam presents this approach again in his Moreh Nevukhim (3:46)

The Sefer Ha-chinukh, by contrast, explains this prohibition as part of the Torah's general concern to establish a sense of awe and reverence towards the Temple and everything associated with it. The fact that the sanctity of a given animal cannot be easily transferred onto another helps reinforce the weight and seriousness afforded to this halakhic sanctity. This awareness in turn helps engender a broader attitude of deference and respect towards the Beit Ha-mikdash and the sacrificial order in general.

Rav Avraham Pam zt"l spoke of the concept of temura in terms of the historical phenomenon of Kelal Yisrael that it so accurately symbolizes. What the basic halakha of temura says is that any attempt to revoke kedusha from an animal will not only fail, but also result in the further dissemination of that holiness. The underlying message of this law, then, is that kedusha often, or perhaps always, responds to threats in this manner. Many times throughout Jewish history, attempts to destroy the nation's devotion to its heritage and distinctive, sacred quality only precipitated a spiritual resurgence. The stories of Chanukah and Purim are perhaps the most obvious examples that come to mind, when concentrated efforts at spiritual or physical annihilation ultimately reinvigorated the people's religious commitment. Herein, perhaps, lies the symbolic significance of temura – attempts to undermine kedusha only reinforce it and help it proliferate further.

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Yesterday, we discussed the prohibition of temura, which the Torah introduces in Parashat Bechukotai (27:10). This law forbids one from attempting to transfer the halakhic kedusha ("sanctity") of an animal consecrated as a sacrifice onto a different animal. The Torah prescribes that should a person attempt such a transfer, the second animal indeed assumes the status of hekdesh, but the originally consecrated animal retains its sanctity.

Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in his commentary, speculates as to the underlying theme behind these laws by emphasizing the very fine line that distinguishes between two halakhic procedures: temura and pidyon. Pidyon, which literally means "ransom" or "redemption," also involves the transfer of hekdesh status from one animal to the next, but whereas temura is outright forbidden by the Torah, pidyon is, under certain circumstances, not only sanctioned, but required. The Torah writes in the next two verses, "If [the vow concerns] any unclean animal that may not be brought as an offering to the Lord, the animal shall be presented before the kohen, and the kohen shall assess it; whether good or bad, whatever assessment is set by the kohen shall stand" (27:11-12). As Rashi cites from the Gemara, these verses speak of a ba'al mum – an animal that developed a physical defect rendering it unsuitable as a sacrificial offering. In such a case, the Torah requires redeeming it based on its value, whereby the halakhic sanctity is transferred from the animal onto the money, which must then be used to purchase a suitable animal. As Rav Hirsch notes, this process of pidyon may also be performed in a manner bearing striking resemblance to the prohibited process of temura; namely, one may take another animal and proclaim the transfer of kedusha from the ba'al mum onto the second animal. What distinguishes pidyon from temura, Rav Hirsch explains, is the formulation used in transferring the status of holiness. Pidyon entails proclaiming, "harei zo mechulelet al zo" – "behold, this one is rendered chulin [mundane] through this one." The prohibited process of temura, by contrast, involves the proclamation of, "harei zo tachat zo" – "behold, this one takes the place of this one." In other words, pidyon addresses the consecrated animal, announcing the transfer of its sanctity onto another, whereas temura focuses on the new animal, declaring it the substitute of the original animal.

Herein, Rav Hirsch suggests, perhaps lies the basis for the temura prohibition. One who brings an animal sacrifice must bear in mind the symbolic meaning behind this gesture; according to Rav Hirsch, this symbolic meaning relates to the animal's function as "the expression of his own personality with all his urges and forces." The act of animal sacrifice expresses the subjugation of all of one's "animalistic" features and properties to the Almighty. In the process of pidyon, Rav Hirsch writes, "the thoughts are directed on to the sacrificial animal, and the procedure is the transference of its holiness and spiritual meaning to another, as yet unconsecrated, animal." As such, the meaning and significance underlying the sacrifice concept remain fully intact, embedded within the consciousness of the individual making the offering. "But at the act of temura," Rav Hirsch explains, "the thoughts are directed towards the undedicated animal, and the consciousness of the symbolic meaning and holiness of a sacrificial animal is, at the moment, in the background." Here, the individual takes an ordinary animal and seeks to have it take the place of a consecrated one, but without focusing on the nature of the consecration and the profound spiritual meaning latent within it.

Thus, the Torah forbids the act of temura because it reflects – however subtly – a loss of the fundamental perspective that the sacrificial process demands. The system of sacrifices may never be perceived as a "magical" mechanism of atonement and earning divine favor, as the ancient pagans believed. According to Rav Hirsch, temura indeed expresses such an outlook, by diverting one's attention away from the substantive quality of kedusha, and focusing it instead onto the mundane, physical properties of an ordinary animal.

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The final chapter of Sefer Vayikra (27) presents the laws of arakhin – literally, "values" – which involve certain types of voluntary donations to hekdesh (the Temple treasury). If a person declares that he takes it upon himself to donate the "value," so-to-speak, of a given person, he must pay the sum specified in this section by the Torah. The Torah classifies all people into different categories based on age and gender, and on this basis it is determined how much the donating individual must give to fulfill the obligation he took upon himself.

Rav Asher Weiss, in his Minchat Asher, raises the question as to the relationship between the laws of arakhin and the broader category of nedarim – vows. Instinctively, we might view the entire section of arakhin as but an application of the general concept of nedarim, which requires one to fulfill verbal commitments. Seemingly, the Torah here simply clarifies that when one commits himself to donate the value of a given individual, this "value" is determined not by his worth in the slave market, for example, but in accordance with the fixed, objective numbers assigned by the Torah.

However, Rav Weiss brings several indications that this is not the case, and in fact, arakhin constitutes an independent system of laws outside the specific framework of nedarim. Meaning, a person who utters such a declaration, promising to donate the "value" of a certain individual, is now subject to a distinct category of laws introduced in Parashat Bechukotai, which does not belong to the broader system of nedarim.

One particularly revealing proof to this perspective is the inclusion of arakhin as a separate mitzva in the Rambam's listing of mitzvot asei (114). Earlier (mitzva 94), the Rambam lists as a mitzva the obligation to fulfill one's verbal commitments regarding both nidrei issur – voluntary prohibitions one takes upon himself – and nidrei hekdesh – voluntary donations to the Temple treasury. Clearly, if we classify arakhin under the general rubric of nedarim, then there would be no need to create a separate category of arakhin once the mitzva of nedarim already includes the very similar concept of nidrei hekdesh. It therefore seems that the Rambam approached arakhin as an independent set of laws, separate and apart from the general system of nedarim.

This distinction, Rav Weiss claims, accounts for several discrepancies between the particular laws of arakhin and standard nedarim. For example, the Gemara in Masekhet Chulin (139b) establishes that if one sets aside money for his arakhin payment and the money is lost, he must nevertheless pay the given amount. Normally, if one designates a particular item as hekdesh, his obligation relates to that item only, and he is therefore not obligated to replace it should it be lost. Thus, the laws of arakhin appear to follow a separate system. Furthermore, the Rambam (Hilkhot Arakhin 1:21) rules that if a person makes an arakhin declaration and then dies, his inheritor must pay the given sum only if he had already appeared before the kohen, as the arakhin procedure requires, to officially confirm his obligation. This demonstrates that the arakhin obligation does not surface immediately upon the utterance of the declaration; it rather takes effect only once the kohen renders an official ruling obligating the individual to pay the given sum. No such halakha applies regarding standard nidrei hekdesh.

However, as Rav Weiss himself notes, the Rambam's opening remarks to Hilkhot Arakhin leave us with a different impression. The Rambam writes, "Arakhin are included under nidrei hekdesh… Therefore, one bears liability on their account for lo yachel devaro… " The Rambam applies to arakhin the general prohibition regarding nedarim, known as "lo yachel devaro" (see Bamidbar 30:3), explaining that arakhin are included under the category of nedarim. Nevertheless, as Rav Weiss explains, the Rambam's comments need not be extended beyond the narrow context in which they were said. The Rambam here simply observes that one who utters a declaration of arakhin also bears the obligation of standard nedarim by virtue of the fact that he has, after all, made a verbal commitment, which automatically binds him to the nedarim obligation requiring one to obey his word. Nevertheless, the system established by the Torah through which this obligation is fulfilled is an independent one, which is not subject to the standard laws of nedarim.

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Parashat Bechukotai begins with God's promises of blessing and prosperity should Benei Yisrael observe the commandments. The first verse reads, "Im be-chukotai teileikhu ve-et mitzvotai tishmeru" – literally, "If you walk in My statutes and observe My commandments… " Rashi, citing from Torat Kohanim, famously comments that whereas the second phrase – ve-et mitzvotai tishmeru – refers to mitzva observance, the first clause – Im be-chukotai teileikhu – speaks of exertion in Torah. The promises that follow depend upon the nation's fulfillment of both ideals – intensive engagement in Torah learning, and meticulous observance of God's laws.

Rav Yaakov Mecklenberg, in his Ha-ketav Ve-ha-kabbala, cites a different Midrashic passage from the Mekhilta De-Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. (I couldn’t find this passage in that source; instead, Torah Sheleima cites this interpretation from the Zohar.) This reading claims that the Im be-chukotai teileikhu alludes to the Torah she-be-al peh, the oral law, while ve-et mitzvotai tishmeru refers to the people's fulfillment of the Torah she-bi-khtav – the written law.

Rav Mecklenberg proceeds to advance a characteristically novel, linguistic theory to justify this association between the term chukotai and the oral tradition. The two levels of Torah, he explains, the written and oral traditions, represent the two dimensions of the Torah that God assigned to Benei Yisrael. The "written law" is the clear, straightforward reading of the verses of the Torah, as elucidated by the various translations and commentaries. The "oral law," by contrast, is the less obvious dimension of Torah, the laws and themes that must be extracted through the complex tools transmitted through tradition. As we know, the process of determining halakha based on these tools is a grueling one. As opposed to the straightforward reading of the Torah, which, for the most part, is clear and evident, the Torah she-be-al peh requires extensive effort in probing and digging for answers and clarification.

For this reason, Rav Mecklenberg suggests, Chazal identified the word chok as an allusion to the Torah she-be-al peh. This word relates to the term cheik, which generally denotes the interior. Most commonly, it refers to the inside of one's garment, as when God instructed Moshe to insert his hand into his cheik (Shemot 4:6). Likewise, Sefer Melakhim I (22:35) tells of the blood from King Achav's mortal wound dripping el cheik ha-rakhev – into the interior of his chariot. Furthermore, the verb ch.k.k. is often used to mean digging, carving or engraving – the act of extracting that which is hidden and embedded beneath the surface. According to Rav Mecklenberg, these meanings account for the association drawn between the Hebrew word chok and the Torah she-be-al peh. The oral law, too, requires probing and "digging." The Almighty wanted Benei Yisrael to toil and exert themselves in the pursuit of scholarship and in the process of halakhic decision-making ("Ratza Ha-kadosh Barukh Hu le-zakot et Yisrael, lefikhakh hirba la-hem Torah u-mitzvot… "). He therefore bequeathed to us not only a clear and lucid presentation of Torah, but also the far more complex and grueling system of the Torah she-be-al peh, which demands intensive effort, intellectual energy and integrity, and pinpoint, scientific precision to arrive as close as possible to the divine truth.

On this basis, Rav Mecklenberg reconciles this Midrashic reading of "Im be-chukotai teileikhu" with that of Torat Kohanim, as Rashi cites – she-tihyu ameilim ba-Torah. Torat Kohanim, too, understands this phrase as a subtle reference to the oral tradition, which demands ameilut – intellectual effort and exertion. This effort, together with unwavering commitment to mitzva observance, is necessary for Benei Yisrael to earn the blessings of peace and prosperity described in the subsequent verses.

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Yesterday, we discussed the opening words of Parashat Bechukotai – "Im be-chukotai teileikhu" ("If you walk according to My statutes"), and mentioned Rashi's famous comment, based on Torat Kohanim, interpreting this phrase as a reference to ameilut be-Torah – exertion and toil in Torah study. We presented the approach taken by the Ha-ketav Ve-ha-kabbala in explaining the linguistic association between the term chok and intensive involvement in Torah learning.

Rav Yaakov Neuberger (http://torahweb.org/torah/2003/parsha/rneu_bchukosai.html) suggested a different possible basis for Chazal's interpretation of these words, based on the more familiar connotation of the term chok. It is commonly understood that chok, as opposed to mishpat, refers to those commandments whose underlying rationale and purpose elude human comprehension. The concept of a chok is unwavering faith in the immense value and importance of mitzva observance, even if we cannot discern any tangible benefit yielded by the given act. Our observance of chukim thus amounts to a clear and profound expression of submission to divine authority and trust in His commands.

Perhaps this connotation of chok, Rav Neuberger suggests, underlies the connection between Im be-chulotai teileikhu and ameilut ba-Torah. Chazal speak here not of limud Torah – the study of Torah, but rather of ameilut – effort and exertion. Ameilut refers to the energy and vigor one invests into his engagement in Torah scholarship. This quality very closely relates to the general theme of chok as discussed above. Though Torah study per se doe not necessarily reflect a deep-seated sense of devotion, ameilut – an enthusiastic, intense and passionate pursuit of Torah knowledge – in most cases can evolve only from a firm sense of submission to God's law. Only when a person deeply believes in the paramount importance of Torah will he exert himself tirelessly to master it. Thus, Chazal aptly detect within the phrase Im be-chukotai teileikhu an allusion to intensive effort in Torah learning. For such an attitude and approach to this pursuit corresponds to the sense of unwavering devotion, love and commitment we express through our loyal observance of the Almighty's chukim.