The splitting Mount of Olives

The haftara for the first day of Sukkot (Zechariah 14:4) describes a massive and seemingly bizarre miracle occurring in the messianic age: "The Mount of Olives will be split in half from east to west, forming a very great canyon, and half the mountain will move north and half south". What could be the purpose of this miraculous topographical change?

Over chag I happened to be learning Mishna Brachot 9:6, which says "One may not behave frivolously opposite the east gate [of the Temple complex], which is in parallel with the Holy of Holies". That is to say, if one is directly east of the Temple and the various doors and curtains are open, they can see directly into the Temple, and this possibility requires them to behave with extra respect at all times, as they are in a sort of holy area. The gemara on this passage (Brachot 61b) clarifies that this rule only applies as far as "Tzofim" (another name for the Mount of Olives). Further east than this mountain, the terrain dips and the Temple is not visible, so no special respect is needed.

Of course that is the state of things now. But what if Zechariah's prophecy comes to pass? Then east of the Temple there would not be a mountain, but a canyon. The Temple would be visible not only in Jerusalem, but anywhere to the east (limited only by the earth's curvature, as we now know). This seems to be the symbolic meaning of Zechariah's miracle: in the future holiness will not be limited to Jerusalem, but extend to the rest of the world. This is the same message Zechariah talks about a few verses later: "Hashem will be king over the entire world; on that day Hashem will be one and His name one." (14:9)

The timing of Megillat Ruth

It is commonly stated that the events of Megillat Ruth take place around Shavuot. However, this is not quite accurate.

"...And they came to Bethlehem at the beginning of the barley harvest" (1:22) - the first barley harvest occurs at Pesach, not Shavuot, as show by the Omer sacrifice.

"And [Ruth] stuck with Boaz' maidens to glean until the end of barley harvest and wheat harvest; and she dwelt with her mother-in-law. And Naomi her mother-in-law said to her: '... And now Boaz our kinsman... he is winnowing the barley in the threshing-floor tonight." (2:23-3:2)

So in short: Ruth left Moav around Pesach, and she got married around Shavuot.

Both parts of this are parallel to the earlier experience of the Jewish people: leaving Egypt on Pesach, and receiving the Torah (described by Chazal as a marriage) at Shavuot.

Coals in the mouth

I know of two stories - one in Tanach, one in midrash - in which an angel causes a coal to be touched to a prophet's mouth:

In the year of the death of the king Uziyahu, I saw the LORD sitting on a high and exalted throne, and his robe-skirts filled the hall. ... And I said: "Woe is to me! For I am doomed, for I am a man of impure lips, and among a people of impure lips I dwell, for my eyes have seen the King Hashem Tzevaot." And one of the Seraphim flew to me, and in his hand a coal, taken with tongs from off the altar. And he touched my hand, and said: "Behold, this has touched your lips, and your iniquity is gone, and your sin is atoned." And I heard the voice of the LORD saying: "Who should I send, and who will go for us?" And I said "Behold, I am hear, send me." (Yeshayahu 6:1-8)

Pharaoh would kiss and hug [the child Moshe] and [Moshe] would take Pharaoh's crown and put it on his head, just as he would do in the future when he grew up... The Egyptian magicians were sitting there and said: "We are afraid of this [child] who takes your crown and puts it on his head, lest he be the one who will take kingship from you." Some of them said to kill him [by sword], some said to burn him. Yitro was sitting among them and said to them: "Perhaps this youth cannot [yet] think? Test him and bring before him gold and a coal in a bowl. If he extends his hand to the gold, he can think so kill him. If he extends his hand to the coal, he cannot think and he is not deserving of death." Immediately they brought before him. He extended his hand to take the gold. Gabriel came and pushed his hand and he took the coal and put his hand with the coal in his mouth and his tongue was burned. From this he became "heavy of mouth and heavy of tongue". (Shemot Rabbah 1:26)

It seems clear to me that the midrash about Moshe has its source, in large part, in the story of Yeshayahu's first prophecy. How could such a specific story (an angel causes a coal to be touched to a prophet's mouth) in the midrash not be linked to the same story in Tanach?

The continuations of the two prophets' stories contain another parallel. But this parallel is mirror image rather than identical: God asks who will be "sent" to the people and Yeshayahu immediately volunteers, while God tells Moshe to go to the people but Moshe asks that somebody else be "sent". Yeshayahu is extremely eager to go, while Moshe is extremely uneager.

And finally, there is one important detail that is simply different between the stories. In Yeshayahu, the coal takes an impure person and turns him into a pure person, ready to give prophecy to the people. In the midrash, the coal takes a speaking person and turns him into a speech-impaired person.

What are we supposed to make of the close parallel between the stories, which yet has some important differences?

When a person is touched by coals on the mouth, there seem to be two possible - contradictory - results. Scientifically speaking, this should cause a burn which might lead to some kind of speech defect. Yet with Yeshayahu the burn has a nearly opposite effect: it turns him into a prophet. In a given case, which of these results will occur, and why?

I think the best answer to this comes from Moshe's story:

Moshe said to Hashem: "Please O LORD, I am not a man of words, nor was one yesterday nor the day before, nor since You have spoken to Your servant, for I am heavy of mouth and heavy of tongue." Hashem said to him: "Who gives man a mouth, or makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not me, Hashem?" (Shemot 4:10-11)

Thus sometimes a burn leads to disability, but sometimes - whenever God chooses - it actually leads to a greater ability.

When Yeshayahu realized that God had chosen him as a prophet, he eagerly volunteered - despite the mouth burn he had just suffered. Moshe was placed in the same situation - called to be a prophet despite his limitations. It was only left for the midrash to fill in the exact story of how he got those limitations. By making them the same limitations that Yeshayahu had, the midrash highlights the contrast in their responses.

David's messy psak

The gemara (Brachot 4a) describes King David's righteousness with this example:

כך אמר דוד לפני הקב"ה: רבונו של עולם, לא חסיד אני, שכל מלכי מזרח ומערב יושבים אגודות אגודות בכבודם, ואני ידי מלוכלכות בדם ובשפיר ובשליא כדי לטהר אשה לבעלה

I was thinking about that line, and I came to the conclusion that it was probably inspired by the interaction between David and Michal as he rejects her (Shmuel Bet 6:21-22):

ויאמר דוד אל מיכל: לפני יקוק אשר בחר בי מאביך ומכל ביתו, לצות אתי נגיד על עם יקוק על ישראל, ושחקתי לפני יקוק. ונקלתי עוד מזאת, והייתי שפל בעיני, ועם האמהות אשר אמרת, עמם אכבדה

Exactly what interaction between David and the "amhot" is he talking about that would be a cause for "kavod"? You might say in pshat that he's just going to associate with them somehow (and perhaps marry them, to the exclusion of Michal who he will no longer sleep with).

But I think the midrash wants to say something more specific. He will do some disgusting task ("hayiti shafal be'einai"), involving women ("im ha'amhot"), which nevertheless will be a reason for honor. Dealing with female bodily excretions in order to reunite husband and wife is a good example of such a task. In contrast to the other kings, whose honor consists of pompous social interactions ("yoshvim agudot agudot bichvodam"), David's honor would consist of this.

UPDATE: In addition to the details above, it was suggested to me (by RB) that the midrash may use examining blood as its example of a disgusting honorable act, specifically due to to David's past. In Shmuel Bet 16:7-12, Shimi ben Gera calls David a "man of blood" among other curses. David does not retaliate or even dispute this curse, and in fact says that God must have instructed Shimi to utter this curse. However, David wishes that God will notice his forbearance, and replace the curse with a blessing. This wish is phrased generically, but the midrash could understand it as David wishing that his martial bloodiness be replaced with some kind of peaceful and helpful bloodiness.

Ruth and the Shoftim

Naomi stood alone and abandoned at the beginning of Megillat Ruth. Her husband and sons were dead, and she was stranded in the land of Moav.

Yet by the end of the megillah, Naomi had regained both home and offspring. Ruth married Boaz, and their son was regarded like one of Naomi's own children (4:17). At the same time, Naomi returned to her very own ancestral plot of land, which was purchased by Boaz at the same time he married Ruth. (4:9-10).

What happened in between the beginning of the megillah, when Naomi was deprived of everything, and the end when she had received everything back?

The difference is the acts of kindness and love performed by Naomi, Ruth, and Boaz. Ruth insisted in accompanying Naomi despite Naomi's foreign culture and old age; Naomi arranged an advantageous marriage for Ruth; while Boaz protected Ruth in his field and agreed to marry her and to redeem the family's land.

These acts of kindness are especially striking when set against the historical circumstances of the period – as the megillah carefully indicates to us. The story is introduced as being "during the rule of the judges". Anyone who has read the book of Judges knows that this was not a period of love and kindness among the Jewish people. The defining event from this period was the story of pilegesh begivah (Shoftim 19-21). There, a traveler visited Givah, in the tribe of Binyamin. Some of the city's less responsible men demanded to "get to know" the traveler, similar to what had once happened in Sodom. His host refused, but the traveler agreed to let the men take his concubine (he was probably willing to do this because, as we previously learn, the concubine had recently cheated on him). The men raped and abused the concubine, and by the next morning she was dead. The traveler cut the concubine's corpse into 12 pieces, and delivered one to each tribe in Israel. The tribes, enraged, came and killed nearly the whole tribe of Binyamin in revenge.

These are the circumstances in which Naomi, Ruth, and Boaz showed their great kindness to each other. The time period was similar and Boaz and Naomi, like the traveler, came from Beit Lechem. Yet the actions in the megillah are quite the reverse of those in Shoftim. The concubine's unfaithfulness to the traveler (and then, vice versa) contrasts with Ruth's faithfulness to Naomi. Boaz's hospitality to Ruth contrasts with the inhospitality the traveler encountered in Givah. The arranged kidnapping of Israelite women in order to provide wives for the remaining Binyaminites contrasts with Boaz's refusal to sleep with Ruth until they were properly married.

While the love and kindness in the megillah were rewarded by offspring and inheritance of the land, the hatred and insensitivity of Shoftim were punished by the loss of offspring and the land. Almost the entire tribe of Binyamin, and thousands of soldiers from the other side, were killed in the Givah war. And the entire Shoftim period was characterized by a loss of land, as the disunified tribes were progressively overcome by the Philistines and other neighboring peoples.

Sefer Shoftim ends with the following verdict: "In those days there was no king in Israel, and each person would do whatever was right in their eyes." The usual interpretation of this is that a king could suppress and prevent evil behavior. But it can be equally understood as referring to internal dissension: without a king people would not unite against external enemies, and would even take up arms against each other.

It is no coincidence that the first successful king – David – was a descendant of Ruth and Boaz. He came to power in a period of civil war between Binyamin and Yehudah. But he managed to reconcile the two sides by showing friendship to Shaul's family and the rest of Binyamin, and by choosing a capitol (Jerusalem) which was on the border between the two tribes. During his reign the Jewish kingdom expanded to its widest extent ever, and grew to be numbered "like the stars of the sky" (Divrei Hayamim Alef 27:23). Just as Ruth's family succeeded in reversing their personal punishments by the practice of love and kindness, their descendant David succeeded in doing the same for the entire nation.

Esther's ethnicity

(This is an incomplete summary of a shiur from R' David Fohrman which I thought interesting. His book on Breishit is interesting as well.)

Three things are mentioned about the appearance Vashti was supposed to make at Ahashverosh's party. 1) She was to show off her beauty. 2) She was to wear a crown. 3) The audience was the assembled princes of the empire.

This strange request can be understood as follows. Vashti was a living symbol of the Persian empire - like the Statue of Liberty is nowadays for the US. Like in modern advertising where beautiful women are displayed to market cars or soft drinks, Vashti wearing a crown was shown off to market the beauty of the crown and the Persian empire. When she refused to do this, she implied that the empire had no beauty to show off. Thus Ahashverosh became so angry at her.

Vashti's replacement was supposed to fix her flaw, and successfully represent Persia. For this purpose, the replacement had to be identifiable as Persian. Mordechai asked Esther not to mention her origin. Precisely because she had no discernable non-Persian identity, unlike residents of the other 127 provinces, Ahashverosh was able to choose her as representative of the kingdom.

When Haman's decree became know, Esther was presented with a dilemma. If she spoke up on behalf of her people, she would lose the "non-ethnic" quality which was why she became queen in the first place. Thus, she did not directly request this, even when Ahashverosh promised her "up to half the kingdom". Instead, she attempted to trap Haman, and thus to get both him and his decree removed.

She was half-successful in this. Haman was discovered on her bed, but was immediately killed, before Esther could ask for any decrees associated with him to be revoked. Now Esther's only option was to ask directly for the decree to be revoked.

At this point, for the only time in the Megillah, she fell at Ahashverosh's feet and cried and begged. Despite this display of emotion, Ahashverosh refused! He did not divorce Esther for declaring her identity, but neither did he grant her request. He only allowed for a parallel decree to be issued allowing the Jews to defend themselves. Luckily this was enough, and the Jews lived happily ever after.

Yad Vashem

...ונתתי להם בביתי ובחומתי יד ושם...
Thus says Hashem to the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths, and choose what I desire, and uphold by covenant: I shall give them, in my house and my walls, a hand and a name, better than sons and daughters. (Yeshayahu 56:5)

I don't know if this post is more pshat or vort, but it sounds nice, so I'll say it.

The above verse is repetitive and hard to understand. What is the point of mentioning "wall" after mentioning "house"? And what is the relevance of a "hand" here?

Elsewhere, as in the Gemara, the word "yad" refers to a "handle", an implement by which an object is grasped. Perhaps that is the same meaning here: a "yad" is some sort of useful object. This is in contrast to a "shem", which conveys a message rather than being being used as a tool toward some objective. Thus, this phrase first talks about something practical ("yad"), and then something symbolic ("shem").

If so, then this phrase is parallel to the previous phrase: "my house and my walls". A useful object ("yad") is contained in your house, while a symbol ("shem") is posted on the walls of your house for everyone to see. The verse promises that the person who is loyal to God will receive both.

Similarly, when we want to memorialize someone, there are two things we must do. We must make a "shem" - by speaking of them and keeping their memory alive. And we must make a "yad" - by carrying out their intended mission in the world.

18th generation Yerushalmi

Some people like to identify themselves as 6th-generation Yerushalmim, or 7th-generation Yerushalmim. I've never met such a person, but sometimes I read about them.

As a 0th-generation Yerushamli (I don't live there) I am not especially tolerant of this pretentiousness. If I ever met a person who introduced themselves that way, I think I would answer this way. "So what? Tzidkiyahu Hamelech was an 18th generation Yerushalmi, and look how evil he was. You think you're any better than he was?"

Tribal ordering and Eretz Yisrael

1. Bamidbar 34

In parshat Matot/Masei, Israel makes some of its final preparations for the entry to the land of Israel. Bamidbar 34:16-29 lists the princes who will represent each tribe in apportioning the land to be conquered. The list goes as follows:

Yehudah
Shimon
Binyamin
Dan
Menashe
Efraim
Zevulun
Yisachar
Asher
Naftali

The ordering of this list is unexpected. It does not follow either of the two normal ways by which the tribes are ordered – by the order of birth of Yaakov's sons, or the order of marching in the desert. Why did the Torah choose to order the tribes this way?

Looking at a rough map of tribal territories, the answer becomes clear. The order of tribes here is the same as the geographic order of tribal inheritance, from south to north.

Yehudah inherited everything south of Jerusalem.
Shimon's territory was considered to be part of Yehudah's territory (Yehoshua 19:9). As such it is mentioned after Yehudah, even though it was in the more southern part of Yehudah.
Binyamin's territory was just north of Jerusalem.
Dan's territory was roughly the Tel Aviv area.
Efraim and Menashe inherited the northern West Bank. (Efraim's territory was south of Menashe - this seems to be the only real deviation in the list from geographic order. Perhaps it can be explained by saying that Efraim and Menashe, being brothers, were listed together, and Menashe as the elder came first. This explanation gains credence because both are listed here as being a subset of Yosef, and only secondarily as independent tribes.)
Yissachar and Zevulun's territories bordered Menashe, in the southern Galil. The territories were roughly adjacent to one another - Zevulun to the west, Yissachar to the east. (On the map above they forgot to label Yissachar! It was surprisingly hard to find a suitable map online!)
Asher and Naftali were the northernmost tribes, Asher to the west, Naftali to the east.

2. Similar lists

The Torah records two other lists of the tribes dating to the 40th year in the desert. These too seem to be ordered by future territory from south to north.

One list is in parshat Vezot Habracha (Devarim 33:6-24). The setting (the conquest of Canaan is about to begin) and the many references to the land make it clear that that's a main theme in Moshe's blessings. The order of blessings is:
Reuven, Yehudah, Levi, Binyamin, Yosef, Zevulun, Yissachar, Gad, Dan, Naftali, Asher
This is the same order as Bamidbar 34, except for the following deviations.
1) Reuven, Gad, and Levi appear. Reuven and Gad are omitted from Bamidbar 34 because they already received land on the east bank, Levi because they would not receive land at all. Nevertheless, they all deserve to be blessed here. Reuven and Gad are included in roughly geographic order. So is Levi, if you take Jerusalem as their eventual inheritance.
2) Shimon disappears. Presumably their blessing is shared with Yehudah, the tribe they eventually assimilated into.
3) Yissachar switches with Zevulun, and Asher with Naftali. Yissachar was east of Zevulun, not north or south, and Naftali was east of Asher. So it is equally logical to have either one before the other. The fact that these particular tribes switch places, while other tribes stay in the same order, strengthens the thesis that the ordering is geographical, south-to-north.
4) Dan moves towards the end of the list. In the end, Dan was unable to conquer its land in the south and went to conquer land in the north. Bamidbar 34 reflects the planned southern inheritance; the order of Devarim 33 is presumably a prophetic reference to the eventual northern inheritance.

The final list is Devarim 27:11-13, which explains the ceremony that will take place in Shechem, with 6 tribes standing on one mountain and 6 on the other. These are:
Yehudah, Shimon, Levi, Binyamin, Yosef, Yisachar stand on Mt. Gerizim (towards the south), while
Reuven, Zevulun, Gad, Dan, Naftali, Asher stand on Mt. Eval (towards the north).

Here, except for Reuven and Gad, it once again appears that southern tribes are listed before northern tribes. The explanation of Reuven and Gad may be that Mt. Gerizim was somewhat to the southwest rather than due south, and Mt. Eval northeast rather than due north. So the "north" mountain is really "northeast", and the eastern tribes Reuven and Gad fit there just as well as in the south.

(Note: I have changed the order of the tribes on each mountain from the list in Devarim 27, to make the similarity to the other lists clearer. I think the ordering in Devarim 27 is for literary reasons: each list of 6 tribes splits into two lists of 3 tribes, and each list of 3 tribes has the tribe with the shortest name in the middle. Presumably it sounds nicest that way.)

3. An implication

One implication of this list is that the tribal locations were decided upon before the conquest took place. This helps us explain many different verses in the Torah. For example:

1) In Breishit 38 Yehudah apparently settles in Adulam (a city near Beit Shemesh, in the tribe of Yehudah's future territory.) Perhaps this was no coincidence, and Yehudah intended to colonize land which he expected would eventually belong to him. (Similarly, Shimon and Levi may have expected to receive Shechem, hence their zealotry there. But as punishment, they lost their right to inherit as independent tribes. If so then Yehudah, Shimon, and Levi – three of the four oldest sons – would have received the most central inheritances, later given to Yehudah, Efraim, and Menashe. Perhaps the oldest son Reuven also would have received a valuable inheritance, but he too was disinherited.)
2) Yaakov promised Yosef “Shechem echad al achecha” (Breishit 48:22). This refers to the double inheritance of Menashe and Efraim. But it may also allude to the city Shechem itself – which was in Yosef's future territory.
3) The names of some Israelites are also the names of cities in the tribal territory each individual would later live in. For example: Shechem, Hefer, and Tirtzah from the tribe of Menashe, and Hetzron from Yehudah. Perhaps, these Israelites' parents gave them the names with the expectation that the kid or his descendants would later control that city. (However, the fact that the best examples of this are from Menashe suggests a different explanation: that these individuals lived in the territory of Menashe rather than leaving Egypt with Moshe, a thesis discussed here.)
4) Moshe's viewing of the land from Mt. Nevo (Devarim 34:1-2) mentions the names of five tribal territories in their correct locations, even though the tribes had not inherited yet. Similarly, Breishit 14:14 mentions the city of Dan, which had a different name (Laish) until long after the inheritance – a seeming anachronism.

Each of these verses can be understood clearly through the idea that the tribal locations were known before the conquest.

If so, then the “casting of lots” used to apportion territory (see Yehoshua 14:2,15:1,etc., and Bamidbar 26:55) must have served either to define the exact boundaries between tribes (which had never been precisely specified), or else simply to give a Divine stamp of approval to the previously agreed-upon division.

4. Why south before north?

Why does the ordering of tribes go from south to north, and not in some other direction? An east-to-west ordering makes little sense, since the land of Israel is longest in the north-south direction. But why south to north, not north to south?

I think this is easy to explain. Nowadays we have north at the top of our maps, but in the ancient Middle East, east was at the top. (As a result, the country Yemen was on the right side of the map. This is reflected in its name, which comes from the Hebrew word "yamin", meaning "right". Similarly the word "kedem", meaning "forward", also means "east" in Tanach.) A Hebrew speaker, who read writing from right to left, would naturally read the map from right to left - that is to say, from south to north, the same order we see here.

The same logic explains why the "blessing" of Gerizim and Eval was on the southern mountain, Gerizim. (You might expect the opposite, since the south is drier and less fertile in Israel). A person's right hand is stronger and has higher status than their left hand. In this symbolic ceremony, the mountain on the right is privileged as well.

Metaphysical dualism

The title of this post is a philosophical term, so profound-sounding that when I learned it in high school philosophy class I thought it was incredibly cool. It refers to a theory first popularized by the ancient Greeks, most notably Plato. According to this theory (see here), the world consists of two kinds of things: physical matter, and intellectual ideas or “forms”. To take an example, the chair I'm sitting on consists of an arbitrary collection of carbon and hydrogen atoms, and also approximates the “form” describing what a “chair” is in its ideal nature. These “forms” are considered to be part of reality, and in fact the most important part of reality, despite their lack of physical presence in the world.

As is typical with this kind of philosophical idea, dualism cannot be proven not “right” or “wrong”. At most, it can be considered useful or non-useful depending on how much it helps simplify complicated philosophical problems. In any case, dualism has had an immense influence on succeeding thought. Early Christians, medieval scholastics, and early modern philosophers like Descartes in turn adapted it as a central part of their philosophies. Perhaps the most basic idea distinguishing Christianity from Judaism is dualist: that the material world is inherently corrupt, and should be abandoned in favor of spiritual quests and declarations of faith. Since modern intellectual culture in large part descends from Christianity, even non-Christians today (at least in Western cultures) will find it hard to avoid thinking in dualistic terms.

The goal of this post is to point out one error that results from dualistic thinking. The critical point is that Biblical Hebrew dates to before Plato's time, and thus does not share the assumptions of dualistic thought. In particular, a verb in Biblical Hebrew frequently refers to both a thought and an action. In dualism, thoughts and actions are as different as any two things in the world can be, and it's inappropriate to use the same word for both. But in the Bible's non-dualistic language, thoughts and actions that typically go together share a word, and the meaning is inferred from context. Not realizing this leads to many incorrect translations.

In the following table I have listed several Hebrew verbs. For each, I list what it means as a thought, and as an action. Finally, I give examples of Biblical verses, translated in the usual way, for which I think the other of the two meanings would make much more sense.

Verb	Thought	Action	Mistranslated verses
YDA	know	experience, acknowledge	Tree of knowledge of good and evil Adam knew his wife
ZChR	remember	address, implement	God remembered his covenant Please remember and strengthen me [Shimshon]
AMR	intend	say	Do you [Moshe] speak in order to kill me?
ShMA	obey	hear	We will do and we will hear.
DAG	worry	take care of, ensure
SMKh	be happy	celebrate	You shall celebrate on your holiday (Chazal: "'Celebration' means meat and wine")

I'm guessing there are other such verbs – feel free to suggest in the comments.

Yom Ke-Purim

If vowelized differently, the holiday name "Yom Kippurim" would spell out "Yom ke-Purim" - "A day like Purim". There is a well-known idea, with this textual basis, that Yom Kippur is a day "like Purim", with the same importance or significance as Purim.

This is hard to take at face value. Yom Kippur is the holiest day of the year, while Purim is a minor rabbinic holiday. How can the two be compared? Moreover, why is Yom Kippur compared to Purim, not Purim to Yom Kippur? Even if the comparison between Yom Kippur and Purim is valid, its order should be reversed!

Here are three possible understandings of the Ke-Purim idea. To me the first is the most meaningful.

1. Release of inhibitions

It seems clear to me that the link between Purim and Yom Kippur is the unique release of inhibitions that can occur on both. Normally, there are many legitimate actions which we do not let ourselves perform, because we worry how other people will react to them. We do not want to embarrass ourselves or get too emotional in public, so we set artificial boundaries to prevent that from happening. On only two days each year do we escape these boundaries - on Purim and on Yom Kippur.

The release of inhibitions on Purim is trivial to achieve - all you have to do is drink a lot. On Yom Kippur, it is much harder. Since this is the last chance to ask forgiveness for our misdeeds, the last opportunity to reform our actions, there is a feeling of urgency and desperation not present at any other time of year. There is a sense of "If not now, when", which can spur you to do to things you never would have contemplated on another date. Sometimes, your religious expression can become as spontaneous and natural as when you are drunk. It is not that the boundaries cease to exist, like on Purim, but that you through your efforts overcome them.

We can see an example of this in Sefer Shmuel, where Hannah prays and Eli accuses her of being drunk. Eli thought Hannah was, in a sense, celebrating Purim. But in fact, she was celebrating Yom Kippur.

This idea also explains why Yom Kippur is compared to Purim and not vice versa. The Yom Kippur experience may be more meaningful than that of Purim. But Purim is the more convenient yardstick by which to measure such experiences.


2. Acceptance of the Torah

On Shavuot, many years ago at Sinai, we accepted the Torah for the first time. On both Yom Kippur and Purim, we re-accepted it. Remember that after the Golden Calf incident, it was on Yom Kippur that Moshe returned with a new set of tablets. This day marks the second, and more permanent, acceptance of the Torah.

Purim marks a third acceptance ("kiyemu vekiblu"), which seems much more similar to the second acceptance than to the first. On Shavuot we accepted the Torah amid incredible miracles, but our acceptance lasted no longer than did the miracles. On both Yom Kippur and Purim there were no such open miracles, yet our acceptance of the Torah was much longer enduring. In this way, the historical significance of Yom Kippur and Purim is very similar.

3. Yonah and Esther

On Yom Kippur we read Sefer Yonah, in which Yonah spends "three days and three nights" in the fish's belly before delivering his message to Nineveh. Here he (presumably) does not eat or drink, and we know that he takes the opportunity to pray to God for his deliverance.

This fish episode resembles part of Megillat Esther, read on Purim. There Esther, too, meets an Eastern monarch after three days of fasting. And while not explicitly mentioned, it is very likely that she spent the three days praying to God, just as Yonah did. And Esther, like Yonah, seems hesitant to carry out her mission before finally agreeing to do so.

The Esther and Yonah stories are unusual in that in both, the story revolves around the behavior of non-Jews. In Yonah, God is principally concerned with the repentance of the Assyrians. Yonah is the instrument of this repentance, but his concern for himself, and possibly for his people (whom Assyria later conquered) are deemed irrelevant. Similarly, in the megillah, it is only the Persians who can make evil decisions, and only the Persians who can rescind them. The Jewish people will be saved somehow or other (רוח והצלה יעמוד ליהודים ממקום אחר), and if this will be accomplished through Esther's plea to Achashverosh, then Esther is just as much an instrument as Yonah was.

We, of course, focus on the "Jewish" angle of Megillat Esther. But the Persians, and not just Achashverosh and Haman, have a quite important moral role throughout the story. The residents of Shushan clearly expressed their feelings about the situation (sympathizing each time with the Jews), and many other Persians chose to either fight the Jews or convert to Judaism. It is not inconceivable that these public attitudes, particularly the pro-Jewish ones of Shushan, influenced Achashverosh's final decision to side with Esther over Haman.

How would the Jews have been saved, had not Esther managed to get the decree nullified? The answer may be that the Persian empire would lose its power to enforce decrees. Perhaps it would have been conquered like Assyria and Babylon before it. Or perhaps civil war might have broken out between the Persians and Medes (two peoples who jointly ruled the empire) or between some of the 127 diverse provinces. Either way, the capital city Shushan could have suffered mightily. As with Nineveh, Shushan through its good behavior may thereby have escaped destruction.

We read Sefer Yonah during Mincha of Yom Kippur, by which time we have had plenty of chances to repent yet our accomplishments in that regard are often meager. Perhaps the purpose is to remind ourselves not to become resigned to such a state. It is hard to imagine a group of people more physically and spiritually distant from God than the Assyrians (renowned in the ancient world for their cruelty), yet in their moment of crisis they were able to repent. We, who have been brought much closer to God, are no less capable of repentance. This message is similar to that of Megillat Esther. Even at a time of "hester panim", the leading minister of the far-off Persian empire is not beyond Divine justice, and people of Shushan - both Jewish and non-Jewish - are not beyond Divine mercy.

Ledavid, hashem ori veyishi

Psalm 27 ("Ledavid, hashem ori veyishi") is recited twice daily from the first of Elul until after Sukkot. There are two customs as to when it is recited. According to Nusach Ashkenaz, it is recited after shacharit and after maariv. According to Nusach Sefarad and Sefardi practice, the second recitation is after mincha not maariv.

The logic behind the Ashkenazi custom is straightforward: once during the day, once at night. That's also when we say the shema, and the purpose appears to be the same: it's constantly on your mind, even if you are not literally saying it for 24 hours nonstop. (See from Shabbat Kedusha: ערב ובוקר בכל יום תמיד, פעמיים באהבה שמע אומרים)

The Sefardi custom, that you recite the psalm at shacharit and mincha, is harder to explain. That means reciting it twice during the day, and zero times at night. The ideal of constant repetition is lost. Why then recite it at these particular times?

The obvious association with these two times is that of sacrifices. In the Temple there are two daily sacrifices, in morning and afternoon. As a consequence, nowadays there are two fully obligatory prayers - shacharit and mincha (maariv is at a lower level). The Sefardi custom appears to view Psalm 27 as a prayer to God. This is distinct from the Ashenazi custom, which views the psalm as a declaration about God.

Where do these two perspectives on Psalm 27 - as prayer and declaration - come from? In fact, both perspectives are already present in the psalm itself.

In the middle of the psalm, there is a section which addresses God in the second person. "Hear, Hashem, when I call with my voice, and be gracious to me, and answer me," it begins. This is quite obviously a prayer. Also, at the very end, is a line addressed at a human being. "Hope for Hashem; be strong and courageous of heart, and hope for Hashem." This is clearly some sort of declaration, not prayer.

Having shown that part of the psalm is declaration and part prayer, the question remains what the rest of the psalm consists of. My instinct is that the rest is a kind of declaration. But for the purposes of the custom we were discussing, it doesn't really matter. The Sefardi custom is based on the example of the prayer found in psalm's middle, while the Ashkenazi custom follows the declaration found in other parts of the psalm.

In the gemara's discussion of prayer one finds (Brachot 28b) the following statement: "One who makes his prayer fixed - his prayer does not consist of tahanunim [entreaties, pleas]." This is a strange formulation. Based on the first half of the statement, you would expect a clear value judgment in the second half, something like "his prayer is accepted" or "his prayer is invalid". Hearing "his prayer does not consist of tahanunim" confuses as much as it teaches. We learn here that a prayer cannot be both fixed and consist of tahanunim. If it is one, it cannot be the other. But then, which of the two should it be? Which one is preferable?

Perhaps the answer is that neither is preferable; both are necessary. There is value in an intimate and personal prayer, and there is also value in a clear and considered declaration of intent. But in practice, it's hard to have both at the same time. All year long, the Sefardi tendency to chant prayers aloud as a community seems to emphasize the "declaration" side of prayer, while the Ashkenazi tendency to say everything in a whisper encourages the personal side. With Psalm 27, the respective emphases of the two communities are reversed. It is Sefardim who emphasize the personal aspect, while Ashkenazim read the psalm as if it were a declaration.

Tehilim 115 and 116

When you can't find your keys, often it is not because they are in an obscure place you can't think of, but because they are in such an obvious place that you think it unnecessary to look there. Something similar applies to certain parts of Tanach. We see so often in one specific context that we effectively train ourselves not to look at them from any perspective other than the usual one.

Tehillim 115 and 116 are good examples. We recite them regularly in Hallel. But in Hallel each chapter is split into two paragraphs which are said separately (and often, one half is not even said). This makes it hard for us to notice connections between the halves which would be obvious if the chapter were said all at once. In this post I would like to examine several such connections.

O Israel, trust Hashem! He is their help and their shield.
O house of Aharon, trust Hashem! He is their help and their shield.
You that fear Hashem, trust Hashem! He is their help and their shield. (115:9-11)
Hashem has remembered us, He will bless:
He will bless the house of Israel; He will bless the house of Aharon.
He will bless them that fear Hashem, both small and great. (115:12-13)

Here we have a list of divisions of the Jewish people: "Israel", "the house of Aharon", and "those that fear Hashem". This list first appears in verses 9-11, where each division is asked to trust God. In the very next two verses (but in a totally separate paragraph in Hallel), the list of divisions appears again, as a list of those who God will bless.

In Hallel, we see these lists of divisions as totally separate. But reading the chapter as a whole, we see they come one after another, and the connection between them is clear. When and because we trust God, God will notice it ("Hashem has remembered us"), and bless us. Not only does the chapter discuss human behavior and Divine favor, but it connects them, thereby introducing another very important concept: that of reward and punishment.

They have hands, but they handle not; feet have they, but they walk not; nor do they speak with their throat.
They that make them will become like them; as will all who trust in them. (115:7-8)
The dead do not praise Hashem, nor do any that go down into silence;
But we will bless Hashem from now and forever. (115:17-18)

There is a certain tension in last two lines. How can you contrast righteous people with dead people, when righteous people eventually die too?

An answer may perhaps be found in the first two lines, which further explain the "death" and "silence" of verse 17. Idols are dead and silent, and idol worshippers eventually become dead and silent too. So it is not all people, but only idol worshippers who are considered "dead". In contrast, God worshippers are considered "alive" forever.

Perhaps these verses are a reference to olam haba, which for those who get it is a form of perpetual life, while other people do not get it and "die". Alternatively, the verses refer to our physical lives. Every individual must die, but the Jewish people as a whole lives and worships God forever. While idol worship may similarly persist for many generations, idolatrous life is empty of meaning, so idolaters can well be considered "dead" like their idols even while physically alive.

I said in my haste: All men are deceitful. (116:11)
My vows to Hashem I will keep, opposite His entire people. (116:14)
My vows to Hashem I will keep, opposite His entire people. (116:18)

These lines contradict each other. The speaker here has just said that all men are deceitful. By implication this includes himself. But if so, what meaning can his commitment to keep his vows have?

It seems that the resolution goes as follows. Humans by their nature are dishonest. The speaker makes an effort to leave normal human behavior by being honest.

In effect, he chooses to part company with humans and their typical ways, and associate with God and His ways instead. (This does not make the speaker a sociopath; the "entire people" makes the same choice along with him.) On the spectrum between human corruption and Divine virtue, the speaker has chosen to shift in one particular direction. We see the distancing from human weakness in one verse, and the approaching of God in another. Only by looking at both verses together can we see that these are two different ways of describing the exact same movement.

Songs of Moshe, Devorah, and David

We read Shirat Hayam on both the 7th day of Pesach and parshat Beshalach. The Torah readings include a song and, appropriately, each day's haftarah includes a corresponding song - those of Devorah and David respectively.

Why is Devorah's song read for Beshalach and David's on Pesach, and not vice versa? A tempting answer here is there is no reason, that the haftarot are essentially interchangeable. But I think I can come up with a better reason.

The difference between the Torah readings of Pesach and Beshalach is that Pesach's reading ends shortly after Shirat Hayam, while Beshalach's continues for another three aliyot, telling of the complaints about food and water and the battle with Amalek. Then comes Yitro's journey to meet the people, but that is already part of the next parsha, Yitro.

According to Ibn Ezra, the Amalek and Yitro events are related by more than textual and (perhaps) chronological proximity. Both Amalek and Yitro were among the sparse nomadic population of this part of the desert. In effect Yitro was part of the Amalekite people, yet he had chosen to separate from them and take up a less immoral way of life. Ibn Ezra says that the Yitro events happened later, but they were written here out of chronological order - to teach us that Amalek is evil not from birth but as a result of certain choices they made, while others such as Yitro faced similar choices and chose differently.

Beshalach/Yitro is not the only time we see this clarification of the eternal Divine war with Amalek. Indeed, Devorah's song contains a very similar idea. Devorah and the Israelite army defeated the Caananites, but they did not manage to capture the leading Canaanite general Sisera. Sisera successfully fled the battle scene to the tent of a presumably friendly woman named Yael. "Now Hever the Kenite had separated from the Kenites, even from the children of Hovav the in-law of Moses ... And Sisera fled on his feet to the tent of Yael wife of Hever the Kenite; for there was peace between Yavin king of Hatzor and the house of Hever the Kenite." (Shoftim 4:11,17)

Hever was from the same family as Yitro, related to Amalek, and until now he had cooperated with Yavin and Sisera in the cruel oppression of Israel (4:2-3). Thus Sisera expected Hever's house to be a refuge from the Israelites looking to capture him. But Hever's wife Yael sided with Israel and, rather than protecting Sisera, waited until he fell asleep and then killed him. Thus the victory over the Canaanites was completed and the oppression of Israel ended.

Like Yitro, Yael came from a background that strongly pressured her not to recognize and aid the more moral side of the conflict. But both Yitro and Yael had the courage to overcome this hurdle and render aid to Israel. This is the connection between parshat Beshalach and its haftarah, Devorah's song. Once this parsha and haftarah were assigned to each other, the remaining song in Nach - that of David - was left over for the 7th day of Pesach on which the Amalek story is not mentioned.

Thoughts on Megillat Esther

In those days, while Mordecai sat in the king's gate... (2:21)

In ancient times, it was customary for judges to sit in the gate and conduct their duties there (see i.e. Devarim 22:15 and Shmuel Alef 4:15-18). What was Mordechai doing sitting there? Perhaps this verse tells us that from the beginning of the story Mordechai was already a powerful member of the king's court, with the power to judge other members.

If so, then it is easier to understand why Mordechai thinks he can get away with not bowing to Haman, and easier to understand why Mordechai in particular is appointed second to the king at the end of the megillah.

This approach is not contradicted by the episode in which Mordechai reports the plot against Ahashverosh. Contrary to popular opinion, Mordechai probably did not overhear the plotters himself. Rather, "became known to Mordechai" presumably means that the matter was told to Mordechai by someone lower than himself, and of course Mordechai had the connections needed in order to inform the king.

The king loved Esther more than all the women ... so that he set the royal crown upon her head, and made her queen instead of Vashti. The king made a great feast unto all his princes and his servants - Esther's feast - and he made a release ['hanacha'] to the provinces, and gave gifts, according to the bounty of the king. (2:17-18)
"There is a certain people scattered abroad and dispersed among the peoples in all the provinces of thy kingdom; ... and it is not worthwile for the king to suffer them ['lehanicham']." (3:8)

In the megillah, the verb "lehaniach" here is used only in these two verses. The meaning not the same: Haman's "hanacha" means passive acceptance of the Jews' existence, while Ahashverosh's means some extra gift which was granted to the empire. The use of the same verb, with different meanings, within a space of 12 verses draws attention to the contrast between the uses.

It appears that the when all the empire's peoples received Ahashverosh's "hanacha", the Jews were among them. No doubt they were happy at receiving gifts, at the opportunity to party in Shushan, and for those who knew, at the knowledge that one of their own had "made it" by marrying into the royal family. Mordechai's loyalty to Ahashverosh when he learns of the plot (2:21-23) is an indicator of this identification with, even assimilation into, the ruling establishment.

At this exact moment, the megillah uses the verb "lehaniach" again in quite the opposite context. Just when the Jews became most successful and integrated into Persian society, the question arose whether they even possessed the right to live. By connecting these two events through their juxtaposition and the common use of "lehaniach", the megillah suggests the transience and insignificance of their accomplishments in Shushan. If the accomplishments could be uprooted so quickly by the very people who had granted them, then perhaps they were not worth putting so much effort into in the first place.

Esther spoke again before the king, and fell down at his feet, and cried and begged him to eliminate the evil of Haman the Agagite... (8:3)

According to the gemara (Megillah 14a) we do not say Hallel on Purim because despite the miracles at the time we remained slaves to Ahashverosh. We still must commemorate being saved, but this cannot be an opportunity for complete rejoicing.

The crisis in the Megillah began when Mordechai refused to bow to Haman. In verse 8:3, we see that the crisis is ended by Esther bowing to Ahashverosh. Perhaps it is somewhat better to bow to Ahashverosh than to Haman. But whatever principle was gained by Mordechai's initial act is likely lost here. This is a vivid illustration of the gemara's point that it was not yet the right opportunity to say Hallel.

For writing which is written in the king's name and sealed with the king's ring cannot be reversed. (8:8)

One interesting feature of the megillah is how Ahashverosh cannot simply cancel his decree to exterminate the Jews. Instead, he can only issue a complementary decree allowing the Jews to fight back. Perhaps another example of inability to cancel a decree occurs after Ahashverosh divorces Vashti in a fit of drunken rage. Once he sobers up he cannot reverse this decision, but must search for a different queen.

We see the same phenomenon regarding a different Persian king in the book of Daniel (6:7-17). King Darius decrees that anyone who prays to God or a man other than Darius must be killed. Then Daniel is caught praying, much to Darius' distress since he likes Daniel. But his advisors tell him, "Know, O king, that it is a law of the Medes and Persians, that any prohibition or law which the king establishes may not be changed." Thus Daniel cannot escape being thrown into the lion pit, though in the pit he is miraculously saved.

Thus it seems that that in the Persian empire, a formal decree once made by the king could never be reversed. There is no evidence of a similar rule in other ancient kingdoms, and the logic behind the rule is not obvious.

R' Yaakov Medan ("Daniel: Galut vehitgalut", p. 152) suggests a possible rational for this practice. The 127-province Persian empire was so large and diverse that unless the law was held in the highest possible esteem, the empire could descend into anarchy. Making each royal decree permanent was a way of increasing its standing and the respect all the diverse peoples would have for it, thus decreasing revolts and making the empire more stable.

I hesitate to advance ideas that people much more informed than myself may have considered and rejected, but the following justification seems to me more compelling than R' Medan's. Presumably the unique legal system of the Persian empire reflects some unique quality of the empire itself. The Persian empire was not unique among ancient kingdoms not in its size, but in that it was ruled jointly by two distinct nations. The Assyrian empire was ruled by Assyria, the Babylonian empire by Babylon, and so on. But the Persian empire was ruled by both Persia and Media. Thus Ahashverosh's banquet is for "the army of Persia and Media" (1:3), and the above quote from Daniel referes to the "law of the Medes and Persians", since both nations are part of the government hierarchy.

The presence of two separate nations in power probably led to tensions between the two. In order to prevent power struggles between them from leading to civil war, some kind of restrictions on the government were necessary. There was likely a legacy of past royal decrees establishing the division of power between Persia and Media. By making these and all other formal decrees irrevocable, the balance of power between Persians and Medes was ensured, and the empire's overall stability was enhanced.

Tikva Memaamakim

I just finished "Tikva Memaamakim", R' Yaakov Medan's book on Megillat Ruth. I have long thought that R' Medan does two things better than any other contemporary Jewish scholar: 1) Notice connections and commonalities between widely different realms: individual history, national history, halacha, machshava, minhag, and so on. 2) Express one's complex emotional and religious orientations in a logical manner, through which one's intuitive decisions can be clearly explained to others. (If that made any sense than perhaps I have the skill too...)

To whet your appetite for the book, here are some examples of the second ability.

1) One who fails to perform the mitzvah of yishuv eretz yisrael is punished by karet. Historically this is shown in the deaths of Lot, Yehudah, and Elimelech's families. Halachically it appears in the korbanot of Bamidbar 15:22-25,30 , which apparently talks about positive mitzvot which incur karet, and which comes after the meraglim story.

2) Miriam's tzaraat was a result of her attempts to disinherit Moshe's kids (due to their non-Israelite mother) and thus transfer future leadership to her and Aharon rather than to Moshe's kids. (In the previous story Moshe declared his inability to lead, so a replacement looked likely.) God likens the punishment to "spitting in her face" because spitting is what we do to people who try to disinherit their brothers - see halitza.

3) Boaz redeems land with a shoe, because walking across land (particularly in the original owner's shoe) is a means of acquiring it. Similarly Moshe at Sinai and all Jews in the Temple couldn't wear shoes, because it's not our land being walked on, it's God's land. And in halitza, the guy's shoe is symbolically taken from him: we want him to be disinherited just like he caused his brother to be.

Putting the Ash in Ashkenaziss

The cities of Ashkelon and Ashdod, in the news recently due to the rockets falling on them, are close to one another and have similar names. Is this just a coincidence?

There is one other place name, originally from Tanach, which resembles Ashkelon and Ashdod: Ashkenaz. The Biblical Ashkenaz is almost certainly NOT France/Germany, the medieval meaning from which our word "Ashkenazi" comes. In Breishit 10:3 Ashkenaz is mentioned as one of the peoples descended from Noah after the flood, and a close relation of Yavan (Greece). Verse 10:5 might mean that Ashkenaz, like Yavan, lived on "islands". In any case, it seems like the Biblical Ashkenaz was at some place in the eastern Mediterranean region that was mainly accessed from Israel by sea.

In the Bible, Ashkelon and Ashdod were two of the five main Philistine cities. It is known (see Amos 9:7 and archeological sources) that the Philistines descend from the "Sea Peoples" who came by boat across the Mediterranean and conquered part of Canaan about the time the Jews were leaving Egypt. It's entirely possible that Ashkelon and Ashdod were either founded and named, or conquered and renamed, by the Philistines.

If so, the names they gave them are fascinating. For the Philistines came from the Greek islands or nearby - exactly where Ashkenaz is located - and then they started giving cities names like Ashkelon and Ashdod. Ashdod, Ashkelon, Ashkenaz - if one nation uses all of these names, then there is likely a common element between them.

A disproportionate number of Biblical Hebrew place names start with the word "Beit". This is to be expected since "beit" means "house of" or "place of" so it is a very logical first half of a place name. Similarly, many place names names start with "be'er". It seems from the above discussion that many Philistine place names start with "Ash". In the original Philistine language, whatever it was, I suspect that the word "ash" meant either "house", "town", "well", or a similar word. Then "kelon", "kenaz", "dod" would all be suffixes attached to the common prefix, "ash".

I can't help noticing that "dod" in particular resembles "Dodanim", the name of a Greek people mentioned in Breishit 10:4 who might have been another ancestor of the Philistines. Let me then go out on a limb and predict that the name Ashdod, "Ash"-"dod", can be translated to English as "Town of the Dod-ites."

Thoughts on Vayelech

[Moshe] said to them: "I am a hundred and twenty years old this day; I can no longer go out and come in; and Hashem has said to me: 'You will not pass over this Jordan.' Hashem your God, He will pass over before you, He will destroy these nations from before thee, and you shall dispossess them; and Yehoshua, he will pass over before you, as Hashem has said." (31:2-3)

What does it mean to "go out and come in"? Moshe has just been giving long speeches to the entire people, so it cannot mean that at age 120 he is incapacitated and bedridden!

In fact, we see from many other places in Tanach that "to go out and come in" has a specific meaning: to go out to battle, and to come in from battle. With this understanding, the continuation of our passage follows logically: Moshe cannot go to battle, so Yehoshua and figuratively God will have to lead the conquest of Canaan.

From where do we know that "to go out and come in" generally refers to battle? Here are some sources. The first one is the most explicit.

Kalev ben Yefuneh arguing why he should be the one to conquer and inherit Hevron:
"As my strength was then, so is my strength now, for war, and to go out and to come in." (Yehoshua 14:11)

David fighting the Philistines:
"The Philistine princes went out, and it happened that whenever they went out, David did better than all of Shaul's servants." (Shmuel Alef 18:30)

Shaul stops sending his army to capture/kill David, because he does not know where David has fled to:
"Then David and his roughly 600 men rose and left Keilah, and went wherever they could go. It was told to Shaul that David had fled Keilah, and he stopped going out [after David]." (Shmuel Alef 23:13)

Achish king of Gat explains to David why he must leave the Philistine camp as they go to fight Israel, because the other Philistines think David will betray the Philistine side. Background: David has lived with Achish and launched periodic raids against Amalek, but told Achish that the raids were actually against Israel.
"You have been upright, and your going out and coming in with me in the army is good in my sight; for I have not found evil in you, from the day of your coming to me unto this day. Nevertheless, the [other] lords do not like you. Now go, depart in peace." (Shmuel Alef 29:6-7)

When Shlomo first became king he was not confident in his ability to conduct royal affairs, unlike David his father.
"And now Hashem my God, you have made your servant king in place of David my father, but I am a young lad, I do not know about going out and coming in." (Melachim Alef 3:7)

And last, a well-known verse. This *could* be another example, but it also makes perfect sense even if the subject is not limited to war.
"May Hashem guard your going out and coming in, from now and forever." (Tehilim 121:8)

David's flight from Shaul

David's flight from Shaul, according to Sefer Shmuel (Alef chapter 19 - Bet chapter 2). David starts in Beit Lechem (his family home), and finishes in Hevron, after Shaul has died and he has become king.

Some speculative place identifications are based on shiurim from R' Yaakov Medan. Original map is from Koren Tanach.

Here is what David did in each place:

Ramah, Nayot be-Ramah - chased by Shaul
Givah - meets Yonatan, who shoots arrows as a signal
Nov - hides, city later massacred by Shaul
Gat - pretends to be insane, leaves
Adulam cave - hides, collects fellow rebels
Mitzpeh Moav - stays under Moav's protection
Forest of Heret - returns from Moav
Keilah - defeats Philistines, then chased away by Shaul
Zif, Maon - chased by Shaul
Ein Gedi - hides with his men
Midbar Paran - hides with his men. Sends messengers to Naval who refuses to help. Marries Avigail when Naval dies.
Givat Hahachila - penetrates Shaul's camp at night
Gat - stays with Philistines, fights Amalekites, is given Tziklag by Philistines
Afek - joins Philistine camp going to fight Israel in Yizrael, but they doubt his loyalty and send him home
Tziklag - city sacked by Amalekites, David avenges it
Hevron - Philistines have killed Shaul so David returns to Israel and becomes king

Israelite politics

It is interesting to what extent executive and judicial power were connected in ancient Israel.

Early on, "Judges" such as Devorah and Gideon gained their repute primarily as political and military leaders.

Later on, kings such as Shlomo were expected to serve as the highest judicial authority, most famously with the two mothers and the splitting of the baby. This unification of judicial and executive functions seems therefore to have survived the political transition from a loose tribal confederation to a centralized kingdom.

Indeed, R' Eliezer Berkowitz argues that the word "lishpot" in Tanach did not have the same connotation of impartiality that it carries in modern society. I would think its meaning is closer to "to protect one who is in the right from one who threatens to do him harm". The moral judgments from which the judge's attitude proceeds must be impartial, but once it's clear who is in the wrong, the judge's main task is to take the side of the victim and ensure that the injustice is prevented or redressed. This can mean fighting wars, or it can mean enforcing a legal ruling. Either way it is called "judging", and either way the focus is on action not intellectual contemplation.

I may idly speculate that unifying judicial and executive power increased the standing and power of the judicial authority, while simultaneously increasing the risks if the judge/ruler was corrupt. I think the necessary safeguard in the Shoftim period was provided by the judge's dependence on public approval. Once the monarchy was established this method became ineffective. Therefore the prophet had to assume a more significant and constant public role.