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Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT SHEMINI

Rav David Silverberg

            Amidst the Torah's presentation of dietary laws in Parashat Shemini, it lists the names of flying insects that are permissible for consumption, including two creatures called the sol'am and chargol (11:22).  Ibn Ezra interprets the word sol'am as a derivative of the familiar Hebrew word sela, or rock, and thus identifies the sol'am as a type of insect that easily crawls and hops along rocky, mountainous terrain.  In explaining the term chargol, Ibn Ezra suggests that it originates from the two words chereg regel, which mean "limp legs."  If so, Ibn Ezra claims, then this creature is described as the precise opposite as the sol'am, in that it has difficulty walking and climbing, particularly on rocky surfaces.

            Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky, in his Emet Le-Yaakov, draws proof to Ibn Ezra's identification of chargol from the Gemara.  In Masekhet Chulin (65a), the Gemara identifies the chargol with the Aramaic term nipol, a word that appears in the Mishna in Masekhet Bava Batra (23b).  The Mishna there addresses the issue of determining ownership over a nipol found away from a nest, and establishes that a nipol discovered within fifty amot (cubits) of a nest is presumed to belong to the nest's owner.  If the insect is found beyond fifty cubits of a nest, then the finder may keep it for himself as we do not presume that it originated from the nest.  The Gemara wonders why in the first case we award the nipol to the nest's owner, a ruling that seems to apply even where there is another, larger nest beyond a fifty-cubit range.  Why, the Gemara asks, do we follow the factor of proximity, and thus award the bird to the owner of the nearby nest, rather than the statistical majority, which should lead us to conclude that the nipol originated from the larger nest?  The Gemara explains that the Mishna refers to a case of medadeh, where the creature in question is incapable of traveling long distances, and we may therefore assume that it originated from a nearby nest, even if there are other, larger nests beyond fifty amot of the site of discovery.

            It thus emerges, Rav Yaakov notes, that a nipol – the Aramaic term for chargol – is a small flying insect with limited mobility.  This would lend support to Ibn Ezra's contention that the word chargol is the product of the words chereg regel, and describes this creature's "limp" and limited traveling capabilities.

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            The haftara for Parashat Shemini, which is taken from Sefer Shemuel II (chapter 6), tells the tragic story of the death Uza, one of the Levi'im assigned to lead the carriage carrying the aron to its home in the newly-captured city of Jerusalem, in the time of King David.  We read that at one point during the trip the carriage was jostled, and Uza rushed to support the ark so that it would not fall.  This act constituted an infringement upon the honor of the aron, and Uza was killed (Shemuel II 6:6-7).  This tragedy corresponds to the death of Aharon's sons, who, as we read in Parashat Shemini, were struck by God as punishment for bringing an unwarranted incense offering.

            The Gemara in Masekhet Sota (35a) cites two views in explaining the transgression for which Uza was punished.  The verse states that God smote Uza al ha-shal, which, according to one opinion, means "on account of the mistake."  Uza should have realized that the aron did not need any human intervention to avoid falling.  It was this oversight regarding the miraculous, independent capabilities of the aron that rendered Uza liable to punishment.  (This is the interpretation adopted by Rashi, in his commentary to Sefer Shemuel.)  The other view, however, disagrees, and accuses Uza of a far graver infraction on the honor of the ark, namely, that he relieved himself in the ark's presence.  As Rashi explains in his commentary to Masekhet Sota, the root sh.l. often means "falling" or "descent," and thus in this context refers to Uza's urinating in the presence of the aron.

            At first glance, these two views represent two fundamentally different perspectives on Uza.  One view considers Uza an otherwise righteous man who was harshly punished for a momentary lapse and oversight, whereas the other view portrays Uza as a willful violator bent on insulting and disgracing the sacred ark.

            However, Rav Shimon Diskin, in his work Mas'at Ha-melekh, suggests that even according to the second view, Uza did not seek to defile the ark by performing his bodily functions in its presence.  Uza relieved himself in front of the ark not as a sign of disgrace, but rather as a result of his comfort and ease in the ark's presence.  Uza felt a degree of closeness to God that developed into a sense of comfort and "relaxation" that people feel among their close friends and family members.  He thought it was unnecessary to leave the presence of the ark to perform his bodily functions, because he felt comfortable and "at home" in its presence.  Uza's mistake lay in his inability to temper his emotions of ahava, love for, and closeness to, God, with a sense of yir'a – awe, dread and distance.  A Jew is certainly encouraged to feel comfortable and at ease when involving himself in the service of God, be it prayer, Torah study, or the performance of other mitzvot.  At the same, however, the Torah demands a degree of awe and reverence that must be displayed in synagogues and study halls.  Uza felt that on this special occasion, when King David and Am Yisrael expressed their intense love for God and His Torah, as symbolized by the aron, it was not necessary to demonstrate as well a sense of yir'a and reverence.

            This analysis sharpens the connection between Uza's mistake and that of Aharon's sons.  The day of the Mishkan's inauguration, when God's presence was revealed to the people in the form of a heavenly fire that consumed their sacrificial offerings on the altar, certainly marked an experience of ahava, of closeness with the Almighty.  Nadav and Avihu felt that this experience did not require an accompanying sense of yir'a, and therefore allowed themselves to act upon their instinctive emotions of love and affection for God, without maintaining the required discipline and distance.

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            As mentioned yesterday, the haftara for Parashat Shemini is taken from the sixth chapter of Sefer Shemuel II and tells the story of the death of Uza.  Uza was one of the men chosen by King David to lead the aron in its carriage to Jerusalem, and he was killed when he tried to support the aron as it was jostled during travel.  After this tragedy, David stored the aron for a period of time in the home of Oved Edom Ha-giti, after which he decided to attempt yet again to bring the aron to Jerusalem.

In the parallel account in Sefer Divrei Hayamim I (chapter 15), we find indications of measures taken by David to correct the mistakes made during the initial attempt to transport the ark.  Specifically, David realized that the aron is to be transported on the shoulders of the Levi'im, and not with a carriage (see Divrei Hayamim I 15:15, and Rashi to Divrei Hayamim I 15:1).  This law is mentioned in Sefer Bamidbar (7:9), in the context of the gift brought by the nesi'im (tribal leaders) in honor of the Mishkan's inauguration.  The nesi'im's gift included a number of wagons to assist the Levi'im in the transporting of the Mishkan, and Moshe distributed the wagons among the Levite families of Gershon and Merari.  The Levite family of Kehat, we are told, was not given wagons, because these Levi'im were assigned the transport of the most sacred articles, including the ark, which were to be transported by shoulder, and not with wagons.  David acknowledged that he had erred in this regard during his initial attempt to bring the aron to Jerusalem, and he now appointed Levi'im to carry the aron by shoulder as required by the Torah.  (See also Masekhet Sota 35a.)

            The obvious question arises, what led to David's oversight the first time around?  If, as mentioned, the requirement to carry the ark by shoulder is stated explicitly in the Torah, why did David initially have it placed in a carriage?  The Gemara in Masekhet Sota explains David's mistake as a punishment for having referred to Torah as zemirot ("songs" – Tehillim 119:54).  Still, it seems difficult to imagine that David would simply forget an explicit law in the Torah.  What, then, was the basis of his error?

            The Radak, in his commentary to Sefer Shemuel II (6:6), suggests that David mistakenly assumed that the requirement to transport the ark by shoulder applied only during the period of Benei Yisrael's travel in the wilderness.  During that time, it was necessary to demonstrate the ark's unique status of importance and sanctity which exceeded that of the other components of the Mishkan.  After the Mishkan's destruction at Shilo, when nothing of the Mishkan remained besides the ark, this emphasis on the aron's importance and sanctity was perhaps no longer necessary, and David thus concluded that he could transport the ark by wagon.  In truth, however, this halakha applied even beyond the period of wilderness travel, and David was therefore in error by initially ordering that the ark be transported by wagon.

            In a similar vein, the Vilna Gaon is cited as explaining that David had restricted this requirement to the period of wilderness travel because of Benei Yisrael's unique spiritual stature during that period.  Only a generation of such stature, that witnessed the Revelation at Sinai and lived a supernatural mode of existence, was entitled and indeed required to transport the Mishkan by shoulder.  In his time, David thought, Benei Yisrael were of a lower stature and were therefore required to handle the ark indirectly, through the medium of a carriage, rather than carry it directly.

            We might develop this erroneous distinction drawn by David a bit further.  The requirement to transport the aron by shoulder is perhaps associated with the unique conditions that characterized Benei Yisrael's existence in the wilderness.  This existence was simple and crude, as they subsisted on the bare minimum staple of manna and water, wore a single set of garments and shoes that miraculously lasted throughout the forty-year period, and were not afforded any material luxury beyond the basic necessities of life.  David perhaps attributed the requirement concerning the ark's transportation to this lifestyle that Benei Yisrael lived in the wilderness.  Transport wagons were deemed a luxury and hence disqualified for use at least with the most sacred articles in the Mishkan.  Once Benei Yisrael crossed into their land and began developing their country, and particularly during David's time, when the nation began establishing itself as a military and economic power, it was appropriate, in David's view, to adopt a more "cosmopolitan" approach.  Now, "modern conveniences" could be employed even for the aron, and there was no longer any need to treat the aron in the same "primitive" fashion that reflected Benei Yisrael's conditions in the wilderness.

            This line of reasoning, of course, was flawed.  Of course, it is true that Benei Yisrael were encouraged to develop and cultivate the land, and were not expected or required to continue living in wilderness-like conditions after crossing the Jordan.  However, the Torah demanded that some vestige of this mode of existence be maintained even in Eretz Yisrael as a symbol and reminder of the basic message conveyed through this experience.  Namely, avodat Hashem is both possible and obligatory under all circumstances, even in the barren wilderness, without life's most basic provisions.  The requirement to transport the ark by shoulder even in Eretz Yisrael is perhaps intended as a reminder of the primitive conditions of the wilderness, where Benei Yisrael were called upon to serve God in the absence of luxury and convenience.  Although we are not required to willingly subject ourselves to these primitive conditions, we must be prepared to bear the yoke of mitzva observance should we find ourselves in such conditions, when observance is inconvenient and difficult.  The Torah therefore demanded transporting the ark specifically by shoulder, even in Eretz Yisrael, as an eternal reminder of the need to observe the Torah under all circumstances and in all settings, regardless of the difficulty entailed.

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            The opening section of Parashat Shemini describes the events of the "eighth day," the day following the seven-day milu'im ceremony during which the kohanim and the Mishkan were formally consecrated.  In the final section of Parashat Tzav, we read that during the week of the milu'im Moshe officiated as the kohen, tending to the korbanot brought by Aharon and his sons just as thereafter the kohanim would tend to the sacrifices brought by other members of Benei Yisrael.  On the eighth day, by contrast, as we read in Parashat Shemini, Aharon and his sons functioned as kohanim for the first time.  As opposed to the previous week, it was they who slaughtered the animals, sprinkled the blood, offered the fats upon the altar, and partook of the sacrificial meat, as required of the kohanim.

            The Rosh Yeshiva, HaRav Aharon Lichtenstein shlit"a (http://vbm-torah.org/archive/sichot/vayikra/26-60shmini.htm), explained the significance of Moshe's functioning as kohen during the initial week of the Mishkan's operation, reflecting the fusion, of sorts, between prophecy and priesthood.  The roles of prophet and kohen, he explained, represent two fundamentally different aspects of religion: the exceptional, and the routine.  Prophecy is an extraordinary experience, one which is not part of the basic routine of religious life.  No two prophets ever prophesied in the same manner, and each prophecy was the result of a unique experience and set of circumstances.  Furthermore, prophecy was always conveyed for the purpose of encouraging or demanding a change in the current state of affairs.  Prophecy was never guaranteed, nor was this role passed through inheritance.  The kehuna, by contrast, was characterized by unalterable routine.  The kohanim followed a strict, prescribed set of rules and guidelines that applied unconditionally each and every day.  They were assigned this role from birth, without any need for creative effort or initiative.

            Befitting these very different kinds of roles, the prophets during the time of the Mikdash often bemoaned the soullessness with which the Temple rituals were performed.  Avodat Hashem undoubtedly requires an unwavering loyalty to the prescribed day-to-day routine, but at the same time demands maintaining enthusiasm and vitality in following this routine.  Religious observance mustn't become stale and mere force of habit; it must be approached with conviction and spiritual energy.  The prophets, the symbols of the "extraordinary," criticized those who officiated in and frequented the Mikdash for the lifeless quality of the Temple service, for its failure to inspire a sense of religious fervor and vitality among the people.

            Moshe, the greatest of all prophets, was also the first kohen in the history of Am Yisrael's sacrificial rite, thereby impressing upon us the importance of combining prophecy with priesthood, of infusing our daily routine of religious observance – as symbolized by the kehuna – with fervor, excitement and vitality – as represented by the institution of prophecy.