On Brit Bein Habetarim

[God] said to [Avram]: "Bring me a three-year-old heifer, a three-year-old she-goat, a three-year-old ram, a turtledove, and a young pigeon." He brought Him all of these, split them down the middle, and laid each half opposite the other, but he did not split the birds. Birds of prey came down on the carcasses and Avram drove them away. As the sun was about to set, a deep sleep fell upon Avram, and, behold, terror and great darkness were falling upon him. He said to Avram, "Know well that your offspring will be foreigners in a land not theirs, and they will enslave them and afflict them for four hundred years. But also the nation whom they will serve, I will judge, and afterwards they will come out with great wealth. And, as for you, you will go to your fathers in peace. You will be buried in good old age. And the fourth generation will return here, because the iniquity of the Emorites is not yet complete." When the sun set and it was dark, there was a smoking furnace and a flaming torch that passed between these pieces. (15:9-17)

This sacrifice in Brit Bein Habetarim was a unique one, and at first glance, seemingly a strange one. But by looking at various contexts, I think we can piece together the purpose and meaning of every element in the story.

1. Why pieces of animals?

(This section is mostly based on this article.)

Note the similarities between Brit Bein Habetarim and the splitting of the Red Sea: 1) both involve a "passage" between "pieces"; 2) the "smoking furnace and a flaming torch passing between pieces" in Brit Bein Habetarim recall the pillars of smoke and fire passing through the split sea. Note also the ceremony in Yirmiyahu 34:8-19, where the people cut a calf in two and walk between its pieces, to symbolize their covenant to free their slaves. Here too, the subject of a "covenant of pieces" was freedom from slavery, as was the splitting of the Red Sea.

It is hard to ignore these connections, and what is left is to work out what they signify. One possibility is as follows. It is often said that in ancient Near East culture the act of walking between pieces symbolize the making of a covenant. Thus Brit Bein Habetarim took the normal form of a covenant - whose subject happened to be redemption from slavery - while the splitting sea signified that the covenant had been fulfilled. Yirmiyahu's covenant involved pieces either incidentally, or else to consciously alluded to Brit Bein Habetarim and indicate that it embodied the same values.

Alternatively, it is possible that the subject of all covenants of pieces was freedom from slavery, with the walking between pieces symbolizing exiting the place of slavery through a gate or doors. In this case, all three ceremonies would have indicated in their appearance what their subjects were.

2. Why these particular animals?

Heifer, goat, ram, and birds are all typical sacrificial animals. But there may also be a symbolism in their number. Brit Bein Habetarim promises that "the fourth generation will return here", and paralleling this, three animals are cut in pieces, while the fourth type of animal is not cut up. This may symbolize that the fourth generation does not undergo the suffering of the previous three generations. Alternatively, it may indicate that the slavery which is the typical subject of "covenants between pieces" does not persist to the fourth generation.

Note also the question of how to translate "meshuleshet". Above, I understood this word to be a property of a single animal (its age). But the word could also be translated as "triple", meaning three of each type of animal. Nevertheless, the same symbolism might work even with this translation, as follows:

Recall that two dates appear in the prophecy here: 400 years as well as 4 generations. These dates are in tension with each other, as normally a generation last far less than 100 years. Perhaps the best resolution of the tension is to say that some individuals leaving Egypt would belong to the fourth generation of exiles, while the bulk would belong to the approximately the tenth generation (assuming the standard 40-year generation, and dividing 400 by 40).[1] Indeed we see that Exodus leaders such as Moshe, Korach, and Nachson belonged to the fourth generation, while Yehoshua belonged to about the 11th generation (Divrei Hayamim Alef 7). Perhaps, in ancient Israelite society, the respect for "elders" meant that the oldest surviving members of a generation would be granted leadership authority by default. So the few survivors of the fourth generation were overrepresented among leaders, while most of the population was of a much later generation. In such a case, a 400 year exile corresponds to the 10th generation, and if so the 9 animals to be cut up correspond to 9 generations of slavery, while the 10th and 11th animals are not cut up as these generations would go free.

3. Why the scavengers?

The distinctive aspect of the prediction in Brit Bein Habetarim - that a long period of suffering occurs before the people goes free - also appears to be reflected in another aspect of the story. "Birds of prey came down on the carcasses and Avram drove them away." Avram performed his sacrifice sometime during the day. But rather than receiving an immediate response (akin to the fire which descended to consume the sacrifice in parshat Shmini), for a long time he was left waiting for a Divine response (perhaps wondering if a response would ever come). In the meantime, was forced to awkwardly shoo the scavenging wildlife off the sacrifices. This wait corresponds to the promised long period of slavery, during which the people would naturally wonder whether God had abandoned them and whether salvation would ever come.

4. Why the negativity?

The beginning of the prophecy - "A deep sleep fell upon Avram, and, behold, terror and great darkness were falling upon him" - is not exactly a positive image, and seems to portend a negative promise, not a positive one. And indeed, much of the promise that was given - the 400 years of servitude - was quite negative. Why? Did Avraham really deserve such negative promises?

Brit Bein Habetarim comes immediately after a heroic action by Avram - he goes to war to rescue a plundered hostage population, defeats a far more powerful enemy, and when greeted publicly upon his return, refuses to take any personal benefit from the spoils. All this is remarkable and merits a great reward from God. But it comes on the heels of a rather different story. Having migrated from Haran to the promised land as commanded by God, his next step was to depart for Egypt in a famine, even at the cost of calling Sarah his sister, and profiting from Pharaoh's attempt to contract an unwittingly adulterous marriage with her. What happened to the Divine promise that he would be blessed for moving to Israel? While one might argue that escaping a famine is justified under something like pikuach nefesh, Ramban (Breishit 12:10) nevertheless criticizes Avram for leaving the land in seeming disregard of the divine promise, and I think the Torah suggests the same message when it describes the consequences of Avram's expedition. Brit Ben Habetarim, which follows shortly after these events, promises Avraham exile to (as it turns out) Egypt, followed by miraculous punishment of Pharaoh, and a wealthy exit - an exact repeat of Avram's trip to Egypt.

Furthermore, it seems that the divine promise of an exile paralleling Avraham's trip was not an arbitrary decision by God, but rather there also exists a causal connection between the two events, as in a sense Avraham's trip led directly to the Egyptian exile. Were it not for Avraham's trip he likely would not have acquired the Egyptian maidservant Hagar, nor would he and Lot have acquired the wealth that led them to split up. Thus, the separations from both Yishmael and Lot were indirectly caused by the trip. This history of separation from unchosen family members likely led Rivkah to assume that Yaakov too was about to be expelled (as Yitzchak favored Esav) - leading Yaakov to steal Esav's blessing, which in turn lead to Yaakov's fleeing, his trick marriage to Leah, the murderous rivalry that emerged between the children of Yaakov's wives, and the sale of Yosef to Egypt, followed by the exile of the whole family. Faced with this history as well as the predictions of Brit Bein Habetarim - both seemingly alluding to Avram's Egypt trip - it is hard not to look at that trip with a critical eye.

So where did Avram stand at the time of Brit Bein Habetarim? On one hand, he had seemingly committed a major sin. On the other hand, he had also just performed feats of remarkable heroism in God's name. I suspect this dual history accounts for the Brit Bein Habetarim. He was given a covenant and promises of fabulous reward for his offspring - but before receiving that reward, the same offspring were condemned to suffer for generations.

5. Why wasn't there negativity beforehand?

Brit Bein Habetarim is not the first event to happen after Avraham's trip to Egypt; several other events occur in between. First Avraham returns to the altar he once built near Beit El, and calls out in the name of God. Then a conflict develops between Avraham and Lot's shepherds, and Lot departs for Sedom. Then God repromises the land to Avraham:

Lift up your eyes and see, from the place you are in, north and south and east and west. For all the land you see I will give you and your offspring forever. I will make your offspring like the dust of the earth - if a man could count the dust of the earth, so too your offspring could be counted. Rise and walk in the land, to its length and breadth, for I will give you it. (13:14-17)

Only then does the war with the four kings start, and after it Brit Bein Habetarim. If Avraham indeed sinned in descending to Egypt and had to be punished for this sin, why wasn't this mentioned right away?

I don't have a definitive answer to this question, but here is one possibility.

We as readers, and of course God as well, can recognize the potential religious issues in Avraham's descent to Egypt. But we are not the only ones. Presumably Avraham himself recognized - following the taking of his wife, his unceremonious expulsion from Egypt, and the loss of his nephew - that something had gone wrong. He may have been uncertain how much moral fault he had in the events - just as the later commentators are uncertain - but it seems likely that in some way he suspected he had failed to meet his normal moral standards, perhaps failed badly.

And he may have concluded that such moral failures have implications for the future as well. Perhaps, after this event, God would no longer want Avraham as His representative in the world, Avraham having failed at the mission God tasked him with. Or perhaps now the mission simply felt too big for Avraham, and he wished to be relieved of it. The easiest thing would have been to follow Lot to Sodom - abandoning his role as a "prince of God among [the inhabitants of the hill country]" (23:6) to be reunited with his nephew, living comfortably along the perennial waterways of Sodom,[2] albeit in proximity to the sinful Sodomite people who would never accept his message.

But God did not want this. Whatever the Divine judgment of Avraham's trip, one imagines that Avraham was still God's best option as a human representative in that generation. And so God had to persuade Avraham that the Divine mission was still worth undertaking. To do that, God gave the effusive promise of 13:14-17. The punishment for Avraham's apparent misjudgment was not removed, but God delayed revealing it, waiting to do so until it would be paired in an unbreakable covenant with an even bigger reward, in Brit Bein Habetarim.

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[1] Alternatively, we might suggest that "generation" here refers to an entire lifetime, which appromiates 100 years. Thus the French word siècle (meaning century) is derived from Latin saeculum (meaning era or world), as the world seen by a cohort of people consists of the 100 or so years of their lifespan. From "saeculum" comes the English word "secular" meaning non-religious (worldly), as well as the term "secular trend" meaning a long-term trend which spans a whole era. The Hebrew "olam" has the same double meaning of "era" and "world".]

[2] The Jordan valley, to which Sodom was apparently adjacent, is described as "fully watered... like the land of Egypt" (13:10), presumably from the waters of the Jordan river.

The two servants

"And Bilaam rose in the morning, and saddled his donkey, and went... and his two servants with him" (Bemidbar 22:21-22)

Bilaam made a point of traveling with two servants, just as earlier Avraham had traveled with two servants to the Akedah. Why did they each do this?

In general, night is a time of dangers, and it was advisable for a traveling party to station a guard at all times so as not to be defenseless while sleeping. (Yaakov, who fled his parents' house alone and had to sleep without a guard, was moved to specially pray for protection on his journey.) It seems that in biblical times, the night watch commonly was divided into several shifts in a standard arrangement. Gideon launched his attack "at the beginning of the middle watch" (Shoftim 7:19), while the Egyptian chariots in the split sea were immobilized "in the morning watch" (Shemot 14:24). These sources imply that the night consisted of three watches. I suggest that this corresponds to the three individuals in Bilaam's and Avraham's parties (excluding Yitzchak, who may have been a child unsuitable for guarding, and also was not expected to return). Over the course of a twelve-hour night, each individual would guard for one four-hour shift and sleep for the remaining eight hours. To allow for this, those who could would travel in groups of three.

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A different approach is to note the parallel between Avraham and Bilaam specifically, and indeed there are other literary parallels one could make between the two stories, for example the trip from Aram to Israel, for example the phrase "those who bless you will be blessed". But that is the subject of a different post..

Mishneh Torah 7

Over Shabbat I noticed a lot of common language between Devarim 7 (Vaetchanan-Ekev) and the end of "Sefer Habrit" in parshat Mishpatim. With the help of AlHaTorah's TanakhLab tool, I quickly traced out these parallels in a nice graphical format (hopefully I didn't miss any significant ones). Nearly every major idea in that paragraph of Mishpatim is repeated near-verbatim in Devarim 7 - though in a different order and with significant expansion.

Sefer Devarim is called in Chazal and arguably in its own text (17:18) by the name "Mishneh Torah", the repetition of the Torah. Indeed, many of the laws and some of the stories in the previous four books are repeated in Devarim. But it seems very rare for the actual TEXT of the earlier books to be repeated. Two examples of textual repetition are the Ten Commandments and the list of kosher species, but these are special cases: the Ten Commmandments were spoken directly by God and thus worth repeating verbatim, while you can't really list the kosher species in different language without prohibiting a different set of species. So Devarim 7 is the only extensive example I know of where there is actual, large-scale repetition.

(For best visibility, open the image in a new tab and example it there.)

Was the nasi position hereditary?

No less than three different lists of nesiim appear in the book of Bemidbar.

In Bemidbar 2-7, the twelve tribal leaders are listed.

In Bemidbar 13, the twelve spies are listed, and described as nesiim. However, it would not make sense to send the tribal leader on an unofficial mission to hostile territory, so we may presume these were prominent people, but not the official leaders of each tribe. Indeed, the names all differ from Bemidbar 2-7.

In Bemidbar 34, the twelve tribal leaders are listed again. Once again, these names differ from the previous lists (Kalev ben Yefuneh was a spy and now is a leader; I have not checked closely, but I think he's the only overlap).

It makes sense that the names in Bemidbar 34 differ from Bemidbar 13, since the spies except Yehoshua and Kalev all died. It also makes sense that the names in Bemidbar 34 differ from Bemidbar 2-7, since 38 years have passed and the previous generation of leaders have all died.

What is noteworthy, though, is that the fathers of each leader in Bemidbar 34 are not the same as the names in Bemidbar 2-7. That suggests that the position of tribal nasi was not hereditary at this time.

Peor and the golden calf

After the war with Midian, God commanded to divide the captive people and animals between the warriors, the people, the Levites, and a "terumah for Hashem" to the kohanim. However, the non-living spoils did not need to be divided (Bemidbar 31:53). Nevertheless, the princes decided on their own to offer the captured gold to the mishkan. Why did they do this, and why only the gold?

The war with Midian was in retaliation for Midian's role in the Baal Peor episode. This episode was very similar to the golden calf episode. Both involved idolatry as well as dissolute behavior. Both had a plague break out as punishment. In both the uncorrupted religious leaders (Moshe and Pinchas) had people killed.

With the golden calf, the people took their gold and decided to make it into an idol. I think that when the princes here dedicated their gold to the mishkan, they were making a statement: "This time is not like the previous time. This time, we are not using our gold to make an idol, instead we are using it to serve God. The people sinned, but now we are taking responsibility and fixing that ourselves."

(As I wrote in the past, I think with the Golden Calf too the people eventually made a gesture of repentance.)

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.

The Exodus commands

Sometimes in the Torah, a single event is described more than once. For example, after the event occurs (i.e. Avraham's servant meeting Rivkah at the well, or Pharaoh dreaming), a character describes it to other characters. Yet the Torah's text in the two cases differs somewhat, even though the exact same events are being recorded. When this occurs, we must ask ourselves why. Are the differences just matters of style? Or are they substantive, and if so why do they exist? The answers to these questions will vary from case to case.

One interesting example appears in the Ten Plagues. Regarding the plague of hail, God commands Moshe to speak a certain speech to Pharaoh, but it is not recorded that Moshe then spoke to Pharaoh. Regarding the plague of locusts, God commands Moshe to go to Pharaoh (without mentioning locusts), after which Moshe tells Pharaoh about the coming plague of locusts. Ramban (on Shemot 9:19 and 10:2) says the differences here are just matters of style. Moshe really did give the hail speech to Pharaoh, and God did tell Moshe about the locusts ahead of time. But the Torah did not mention these events, as they are too repetitive and can be inferred from context.

However, in another case a few chapters away, I think the understanding is quite different. In this case, God twice tells Moshe to instruct the people about something. But then Moshe seemingly instructs the people something quite different from what God instructed him.

In Shemot 12, known as "HaChodesh", God commands Moshe regarding the Pesach sacrifice, the upcoming 10th plague, and the "Hag Hamatzot" holiday which will commemorate this event for the generations. Moshe calls together the elders of Israel, and tells them about the Pesach sacrifice and the 10th plague - but does not mention the holiday.

In Shemot 13:1-2, just after leaving Egypt, God issues a very concise command: to consecrate all firstborns among Israel. Moshe, then, gives a long two-paragraph speech to Israel. The first paragraph describes the seven-day holiday commemorating the Exodus, while the second paragraph mentions consecration of firstborns. Both paragraphs mention telling your son about the Exodus, and having a "sign on your hand, and a memory/phylactery between your eyes" to commemorate the Exodus.

To summarize: In Shemot 12, God talked about three subjects (sacrifice, plague, and holiday) while Moshe talked about two (sacrifice and plague). In Shemot 13, God talked about one subject (consecration) while Moshe talked about two (holiday and consecration).

We notice that the one topic Moshe missed in Shemot 12 is the topic he adds in Shemot 13! Therefore, it seems to me that Moshe delayed telling the people about the holiday until after they had left Egypt.

Here is my hypothesis: God mentioned as many commandments as possible before the Exodus (the sacrifice, plague, and holiday). But God could not mention consecration of firstborns beforehand, because that is one side in a transaction, and God could not ask Israel to "pay up" before doing HIS side of the transaction. Whereas Moshe told the people only what was relevant to them at each time: they had to know about the sacrifice and plague ahead of time, but the holiday was not relevant until after leaving Egypt, so Moshe waited to tell the people until later. When he did tell them, he combined this command with another command he had received in the meantime: consecration of firstborns.

In summary: We have identified a total of four topics in God's commands, and the same four topics in Moshe's commands, and explained why each topic appears when it does. That said, each of the four topics has a somewhat different text in God's vs Moses' telling. To reconcile the different texts within a single topic, I would probably go with the Ramban's approach as described above. This approach seems best for when text is "missing" from one of the two accounts in the Torah. But when text is "shifted in position" rather than "missing", we should assume it was said where it appears, and look for an explanation of why this occurred.

Science and the flood

The Biblical flood story is fundamentally incompatible with science. Not enough water exists on earth to cover the land entirely. And no traces of such a worldwide flood have been found. Given this situation, why does the Torah include a long flood story?

The answer usually given by modern-inclined Jews has two parts. First, that Jewish traditional thought has not insisted on taking this and similar stories literally. The midrash states that the flood waters did not fall on the land of Israel. Some later commentaries say, based on this, that the flood did not cover the land of Israel - despite the flood's seeming world-wide extent in the Torah, and the questions raised by humans and animals in Israel seemingly being able to survive.

Second, that the flood story is intended to teach us ideas, not science. The ideas are powerful enough. The Babylonia flood stories (Atrahasis and Gilgamesh), for example, begins with the gods being unable to sleep because human beings are making too much noise, so they decide to wipe out humanity to eliminate the noise. The Torah's story, in contrast, features a single God, unaffected by human actions. However, when humans behave evilly, God brings the flood to to punish them. God, through his distress at having to destroy the world, shows His caring for humanity in tension with His need that the world which was created for good, actually stay good. The ideological difference between the Babylonian and Torah flood stories is vast, and the Torah's story represents many of our highest theological ideas. So, bottom line, we accept the flood story's lessons about God and morality, while feeling free to ignore its scientific difficulties.

This answer addresses many of the difficulties with the flood story. And yet it does not totally suffice. Yes, the flood story is meant to teach ideas. But does that mean it cannot also teach science? Perhaps there was no good way of teaching science in such a story, but why then teach erroneous science? Shouldn't a perfect God be able to write a text that conveys the ideas, while also not making errors in the science?

To address this, perhaps we should examine how history was transmitted in Biblical times. A key text for this is the beginning of Haazinu (Devarim 32:7):

Remember the days of old;
Consider the years of many generations.
Ask your father, and he will tell you;
Your elders [or grandfathers?], and they will say to you.

This is the introduction to a description of how God created the world with its various peoples in the distant past, before separating out the Jewish people as His special people. I think it is not just a poetic introduction, but important evidence for how people in Biblical times would attempt to obtain knowledge about the past.

How would a modern person answer a question concerning the distant past? Perhaps they would perform an experiment, digging in the ground to see what is buried there, or making calculations based on some measurement. However, the scientific method was not a practical option for ancient people. They were not trained to use it, but even if they had thought to perform experiments, they could only perform a handful of experiments. They would not have access to the hundreds of years of slowly accumulated data which form the vast majority of 21st century scientific knowledge.

A modern person might also considering reading a book. This was the default option before the scientific revolution. The writings of classical and medieval thinkers provide a great deal of thoughtful analysis from some of the most brilliant people the world has seen. And yet, in the Biblical period this option too was unavailable. Not only because classical culture had not yet arisen, but because books of any sort were hard to obtain. Even in the cosmopolitan capitals of Egypt and Mesopotamia, the ability to read and write complex ideas was often limited to the priests, who jealously guarded this secret. In more rural and nomadic societies like ancient Israel, written stories and the ability to read them were surely even more rare.

Without access to knowledge from experiments or books, how would a person find out about the past? I think the best remaining source of knowledge was oral tradition. Your own parents, as well as the wisest elders in the community, would remember events from before your birth. Particularly significant events would likely be passed down as traditions over multiple generations. Of course, oral tradition tends to diverge a bit with time. But when all the elders agreed on the core of a story, you could rest assured that that story really took place.

Stories of a great flood are pervasive in many traditional cultures, worldwide. It is unclear exactly why. Perhaps they are based on memories of a sea level rise after the Ice Ages (which swamped many coastal areas - permanently), or of local floods (in low-lying places like Mesopotamia). Perhaps people saw fish fossils in the mountains, and could only explain them by positing a great flood. Whatever the initial motivations for a flood story, it morphed into a tradition held by many people who had never seen the evidence for it. For our purposes, what matters is simply that such a story existed, and likely, belief in it was near-universal. One could not simply deny that a flood took place. The elders all believed that a flood had occurred. Since oral tradition was the most reliable source of knowledge at the time, denying their story would effectively be an irrational denial of reality.

What options, then, were available to the author of a new narrative, like the Bible? If one denied the flood, people would not stop believing in a flood, but rather, the new narrative would lose credibility, just as stories of a literal worldwide flood have no credibility in modern times. If one ignored the issue of a flood, people would go on believing their preexisting flood story, with a multiplicity of deities and a debased moral order. The only option was to describe a flood, but to replace the problematic parts of the story with non-problematic parts. That way, people would only have to reject some details (and the details, unlike the big picture, were probably already in dispute), while not being asked to reject reason by denying the most reliable source of knowledge at the time.

For this reason, I think, the Torah includes a flood story similar those common in the ancient Middle East. (Even some minute details of the Torah's flood story, such as the dove and raven being sent out from the ark, appear in the Babylonian versions.) At the same time, everything that was theologically problematic was erased and replaced. This was the only way to write a text that had a chance of being accepted, while also saying all the theological things that needed to be said.

To return to our question: Shouldn't a perfect God be able to write a text that conveys the ideas, while also not making errors in the science? Perhaps, in this case, the answer is no.

(The same analysis may apply to other stories in the first 11 chapters of Breishit.)

Thoughts on Ki Tavo

My father was a wandering Aramean (26:5)

These are the opening words of mikra bikurim, describing how God took out us out of Egypt and gave us the land which produced these bikurim. But what is the point of mentioning that our ancestor was once a wanderer?

I think it's to create a contrast between our initial state (when we were wanderers and did not have a land) to our current state (where God has given us a land).

Vidui Maasrot (26:12-15)

Chazal refer to the second mitzvah of the parsha as "vidui maaser" (nowaday commonly known as "vidui maasrot"), though the Torah does not give it a name. It only says "you shall say" ("veamarta"), followed by your declaration that you have given maaser ani and thus have kept the mitzvah (and not done one of several possible forbidden actions), followed by your request that God bless you.

The word "vidui" in our minds suggests a confession of sin. But in this case you are "confessing" only that you have done good things, not bad things. So why do Chazal call it "vidui"?

One possibility is that "vidui" in Chazal's language can refer to any declaration, not only to an admission of sin. I found one source which fits this: Tosefta Bikurim 1:7 says that both bikurim and maaser ani require "vidui". Since neither of the two declarations seems to obviously allude to sin, one may presume that "vidui" in this source simply means "declaration". That said, this source seems to be the exception. It appears that in the vast majority of cases where Chazal (or the Torah) mention "vidui", they are referring to confession of sin.

If the word does imply confession of sin, I want to suggest what that sin might be. Elsewhere (Shemot 23:15) the Torah requires that when we visit God we must "not appear before [Him] empty-handed". Technically this mitzvah only applies to the pilgrimage holidays. But like many mitzvot, it is easy to identify a sensible broader idea which lies behind the specified application. In this case, the idea is that one visiting God should bring a gift with them, representing their love of God and submission to God.

The mitzvah of maaser ani follows an unusual schedule, dictated by the shemitah cycle. In years 1, 2, 4, and 5 of the cycle, one brings maaser sheni - holy food - to eat in Jerusalem. In years 3 and 6, maaser ani takes the place of maaser sheni.

Vidui maasrot is recited on an occasion when, despite the absence of maaser sheni that year, you are still visiting the Temple. As mentioned above, I think there there is an expectation to bring some kind of gift when visiting the Temple. But in this case, the gift you would normally be bringing (in 4 out of the 6 non-shemitah years) is conspicuously absent.

Therefore, I think vidui maasrot is an acknowledgment of this lack of gift. You "apologize" for your lack of gift, and then explain the good excuse you have for not bringing it - that God told you to do something else with the food. This acknowledgment is a "confession", not of having broken a commandment, but of failing to meet the expectation that normally goes along with such visits to God.

When you cross the Jordan, you shall erect these stones, which I command you today, at Mount Eval... You shall slaughter shelamim-offerings and eat there, and rejoice before Hashem your God. (27:4-7)

The mitzvah of "simcha" is a part of the three pilgrimage holidays, and also of other gatherings at the Mishkan/Temple mentioned in the Torah, such as this one. A common question is, how can you command someone to be happy?

One answer is textual: you are not commanding them to be happy, but rather to hold a celebration.

Another answer is that the activities involved are ones that naturally promote happiness. This is true on a number of levels. The meal is a source of physical enjoyment. The vacation from work is inherently pleasant. The group and family bonding of the event are good for mental health. The affirmation of common values gives people a sense of purpose. And finally, occasions of "simcha" are generally centered around thanking God for one's well-being, and psychologists tell us that feeling gratitude is one of the most effective ways of becoming happier. All these factors combine, not to guarantee that a person celebrating will be happy, but to make it much more likely.

Patterns in Parshat Balak

1. The triple structure

Three times Bilam went to curse Israel, and each time God caused Bilam to bless Israel rather than curse them.

It is well known that these three visions correspond to an earlier series of events - the three times Bilam's donkey strayed from the way. Three times the donkey disobeyed and angered Bilam, just as three times Bilam disobeyed and angered Balak.

Bilam was supposedly the prophetic expert who Balak looked up to, but this parallel implies that the donkey was even higher than Bilam. In the pre-Yom-Kippur prayer Tefillah Zakah we say "With the power of speech you divided mankind from animals, but I have not even been like an animal, for I have polluted my mouth with obscenities, gossip, lies..." Bilam, who had Divine gifts but used them improperly, did not even reach the level of an animal - and the story of the donkey shows this.

2. The differences between the three

One's natural assumption, when confronted with a grouping of three things, is to look for the commonalities between the three. This year, I looked instead at what differs between them.

Here are Bilam's three visions about Israel, ignoring Bilam's introductory remarks about himself:

"Behold, it is a people that shall dwell alone, and shall not be reckoned among the nations. Who hath counted the dust of Jacob, or numbered the stock of Israel? Let me die the death of the righteous, and let mine end be like his!"

"None has beheld iniquity in Jacob, nor has one seen perverseness in Israel; the LORD his God is with him, and the shouting for the King is among them. God who brought them forth out of Egypt is for them like the lofty horns of the aurochs. For there is no enchantment with Jacob, neither is there any divination with Israel; now is it said of Jacob and of Israel: 'What has God wrought!' Behold a people that rises up as a lioness, and as a lion lifts himself up; he shall not lie down until he eats of the prey, and drinks the blood of the slain."

"How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, thy dwellings, O Israel! As valleys stretched out, as gardens by the river-side; as aloes planted of the LORD, as cedars beside the waters; Water shall flow from his branches, and his seed shall be in many waters; and his king shall be higher than Agag, and his kingdom shall be exalted. God who brought him forth out of Egypt is for him like the lofty horns of the aurochs; he shall eat up the nations that are his adversaries, and shall break their bones in pieces, and pierce them through with his arrows."

Note the progression in these visions. In the first, Israel dwells alone, and does not interact with the nations. In the second, Israel escapes Egypt, and will eat the flesh of its "prey". In the third blessing, Israel goes to war against its enemies, and defeats them.

Remember that the very reason Bilam came was that the Moabites feared Israel after Israel's conquest of the Amorites! Now look at what the series of visions means for Moav. In the first vision, Israel does not interact with other nations. In the second vision, Israel is violently consuming "prey" - to me this seems ambiguous, and could refer to material consumption or to defeat of enemies. The third vision explicitly has Israel defeating its enemies!

I get the impression that the more Balak insisted on a curse, the more he dug his nation into a hole. In the first vision, Israel would dwell separately and presumably not threaten anyone. In the second vision, Israel was a possible threat to others. In the third vision, Israel was a definite threat to others!

Now let's see what happens when we examine the three donkey episodes in the same way.

And the ass saw the angel of the LORD standing in the way, with his sword drawn in his hand; and the ass turned aside out of the way, and went into the field; and Balaam smote the ass, to turn her into the way.

Then the angel of the LORD stood in an alley between the vineyards, a fence being on this side, and a fence on that side. And the ass saw the angel of the LORD, and she thrust herself unto the wall, and crushed Balaam's foot against the wall; and he smote her again.

And the angel of the LORD went further, and stood in a narrow place, where was no way to turn either to the right hand or to the left. And the ass saw the angel of the LORD, and she lay down under Balaam; and Balaam's anger was kindled, and he smote the ass with his staff.

To summarize: In the first episode, the donkey was forced off the path, into a field. In the second episode, the donkey was forced into an alley, and thus tried to edge its way past the angel blocking most of the alley. In the third episode, the angel blocked the entire alley, and the donkey was forced to collapse.

Once again, we see a similar progression! In the first episode, the donkey's progress was slowed, but one can take a path through the fields and get to the same destination as by a road. In the second episode, the donkey's progress was mostly blocked. In the third episode, its progress was entirely blocked. Every time Bilam failed to notice the real cause of the donkey's errant behavior, the behavior got worse. When he failed to understand a third time, the next step was for the donkey to miraculously open its mouth and for the angel appear - and only then did he understand where he had gone wrong.

In a sense, the donkey opening its mouth is a fourth episode - and it is paralleled by a fourth episode in Bilam's interactions with Balak. After Bilam's third failure to curse Israel, without prompting he begins a fourth speech: "Let me advise you what this people will do to yours in the future." This speech too is about how Israel will defeat its enemies - but unlike the previous speeches, the enemies are named, and the first one mentioned is Moav itself. Balak really should have stopped while he was ahead.

3. The three-four structure

Both the visions and the donkey episodes have what is called a "three-four" structure. This structure appears elsewhere in Tanach, most notably at the beginning of Amos. There the sins of various nations are listed:

Thus saith the LORD: For three transgressions of Gaza, yea, for four, I will not reverse it: because they carried away captive a whole captivity, to deliver them up to Edom. So will I send a fire on the wall of Gaza...
Thus saith the LORD: For three transgressions of Tyre, yea, for four, I will not reverse it: because they delivered up a whole captivity to Edom, and remembered not the brotherly covenant. So will I send a fire on the wall of Tyre...

This chapter contains a long list of nations which are punished, of which I have only quoted two. For each nation, the "three-four" structure is explicit. Each nation has already sinned in three ways, but once the fourth national sin is committed, the amount of sin becomes overwhelming and a punishment is decreed against the nation.

In Bilam's case, too, we see the same three-four structures. Three times Balak wrongly asks Bilam to curse Israel; only in Bilam's fourth speech is Moav's punishment decreed. Three times Bilam ignored the donkey's behavior and hit it; only when the donkey speaks in words does the angel appear. Here, too, the sin builds up steadily, and only at the end is the verdict reached.

Mei Merivah

The congregation did not have water, and the gathered against Moshe and Aharon. The people fought with Moshe, and said: "If only we had died when our brethren died before Hashem. Why did you bring the congregation of Hashem to this desert, to die here, us and our animals. And why did you take us up from Egypt, to bring us to this evil place, not a place of seed, or figs or grapes or pomegranates, and there is no water to drink." (Bamidbar 20:2-5)

The people's complaint at Mei Merivah is bizarre. You would expect a complaint about water to focus on water, but in fact water seems to be just an afterthought tacked onto the end. Much of the complaint is about the agricultural bounty - herds, grain, fruit - which the people feel entitled to. Shouldn't survival and water come before these luxuries? In addition, the people say they prefer death to their current situation. But if they want to die, why complain about lack of water? And finally, they quite explicitly link themselves to Korach's rebellion - both in linking themselves to "our brethren [who] died before Hashem" (compare to 16:16-17, 17:5, 17:11, 17:28), and in describing themselves as "the congregation of Hashem"/"kehal Hashem" (see Korach's initial complaint in 16:3). Why would they hope to get a positive response from Moshe and God, when linking themselves to the most evil rebels?

It is no surprise that Moshe reacts angrily to this arrogant, insincere demand. "Listen now, you rebels, will I bring water out of this rock?" Moshe correctly recognized the complainers to be hostile rebels, not innocent desperate people who just want water to drink.

Or so we think. But God's responses to Moshe, Aharon, and the people are the opposite of what we expect. Throughout Sefer Bamidbar, God considers and executes punishments on the people. Sometimes (like 16:21-22) these punishments appear to be much harsher than what either Moshe or the average modern reader would consider appropriate. And yet, in the Mei Merivah story, the people receives no punishment whatsoever. In fact, the only ones to be punished are Moshe and Aharon! They are the ones we thought had correctly interpreted the people's demands! What is going on?

I think the answer is as follows. Correct me if I've missed something, but I think that never in the Torah are the people punished for complaining when there is a lack of food or water. Only when they demand things like better food (meat), or altered political arrangements, or a return to Egypt, are they punished. Food and water are legitimate needs; a person cannot live without them. God, by taking the people out of Egypt and promising them entry into Canaan, took on a certain responsibility towards them, which included not allowing them to die. If there really was a shortage of food or water, it was God's responsibility to fix that, and there was nothing wrong in pointing it out.

It is true that at Mei Merivah, the people expressed their complaint in a very offensive way. Yet at its core, the complaint was legitimate. Water was missing, and God had to provide it. In general, a leader who gets angry when asked to do their responsibilities is a failed leader. It is no excuse that "the other side started it"; to descend to the level of selfish ungrateful rebels is an abdication of moral responsibility, and is seen as such by "the other side". Moshe and Aharon were representatives of God, so their failures reflected badly on God - and thus were a failure to "sanctify God's name" (20:12). When leaders fail at their job, it can disqualify them from further leadership, which is what happens to Moshe and Aharon in the wake of this episode.

I am not in the habit of giving lessons to other people, but there is a lesson waiting to be said here. There are many times in life when we, or our ideological camps, are disingenuously accused of misdeeds. Perhaps one person in our camp has behaved badly, and outsiders use this example to besmirch the entire camp. We feel justified in responding in kind - fighting anger with anger, or besmirching the enemy camp based on anecdotes just like ours has been besmirched. I think Mei Merivah's lesson is that in general, we must resist these temptations. Such angry responses rarely convince the other side. More often, they tend to decrease the other side's respect for us, and make the distance between us and them wider and harder to bridge. Particularly in the last few years, when US public opinion has crystallized into mutually exclusive echo chambers which cannot talk to one another, we need the patience to ignore the other side's rhetorical lows and respond thoughtfully rather than in anger. This takes a lot of self-control, and fails to satisfy our inner urge for justice. But it is more likely to lead "the people" to "the promised land" than any alternative.

Credit for this post goes to an interminably long Shir Hashirim reading at the local shul for kabbalat shabbat, leading me to think about the parsha instead of following along.

Arachin and Herem

This shabbat I came to a clearer pshat understanding of the last chapter of Sefer Vayikra (27) than I had in the past, and I want to summarise it here.

The chapter covers four subjects: arachin, bechorot, herem, and maaser. In more detail, the chapter divides as follows:

1) Arachin of a person: אִישׁ כִּי יַפְלִא נֶדֶר בְּעֶרְכְּךָ נְפָשֹׁת (verses 1-8)
2) Arachin of a kosher animal: וְאִם בְּהֵמָה אֲשֶׁר יַקְרִיבוּ מִמֶּנָּה קָרְבָּן (verses 9-10)
3) Arachin of a non-kosher animal: וְאִם כָּל בְּהֵמָה טְמֵאָה (verses 11-13)
4) Arachin of a house: וְאִישׁ, כִּי יַקְדִּשׁ אֶת בֵּיתוֹ (verses 14-15)
5) Arachin of an ancestral field: וְאִם מִשְּׂדֵה אֲחֻזָּתוֹ יַקְדִּישׁ אִישׁ (verses 16-21)
6) Arachin of a non-ancestral field: וְאִם אֶת שְׂדֵה מִקְנָתוֹ, אֲשֶׁר לֹא מִשְּׂדֵה אֲחֻזָּתוֹ, יַקְדִּישׁ (verses 22-24)
7) The "holy shekel" is defined as 20 "gerah" (verse 25)
8) Bechorot, kosher and non-kosher (verses 26-27)
9) Herem: אַךְ כָּל חֵרֶם אֲשֶׁר יַחֲרִם אִישׁ לַה מִכָּל אֲשֶׁר לוֹ, מֵאָדָם וּבְהֵמָה וּמִשְּׂדֵה אֲחֻזָּתוֹ (verses 28-29)
10) Maaser of produce: וְכָל מַעְשַׂר הָאָרֶץ (verses 30-31)
11) Maaser of animals: וְכָל מַעְשַׂר בָּקָר וָצֹאן (verses 32-33)
12) Conclusion (verse 34)

In all of 1-6, the word עֶרְכְּךָ reappears over and over. This word also appears in Vayikra 5 (where the "asham" animal is described as an עֶרְכְּךָ for the person who has sinned) and in Bamidbar 18 (where the 5 shekel redemption payment for a firstborn male is described as עֶרְכְּךָ, and has the same 5 shekel value specified for baby boys in Vayikra). Besides these places, each of which is "arachin" in the human sense, the word never appears in the Torah. But here, it appears in connection with animals and land, as well as humans.

In addition to the three categories of "arachin", there are three categories of "herem" - אָדָם וּבְהֵמָה וּמִשְּׂדֵה אֲחֻזָּתוֹ - human, animal, and land! It seems that nearly any object can be sanctified in one of two ways - either "arachin" or "herem".

What is the difference between "arachin" and "herem"? It seems the difference is that "arachin" may be redeemed to a cash value, while "herem" can never be redeemed. Let us go through how this works in each case.

Of the six types of "arachin", four (humans, non-kosher animals, houses, and purchased fields) seemingly *must* be redeemed. A fifth (ancestral fields) *may* be redeemed, but only until the yovel, and if you miss this deadline, it becomes "like the herem field" (verse 21), i.e. non-redeemable! Just one type of "arachin" can never be redeemed (kosher animals) - even switching them to a different animal doesn't work. Perhaps this is not actually a type of "arachin", it is just included next to the similar law for non-kosher animals for completeness.

As for "herem" (verse 28-29), it applies to people, animals, and fields - but only to ancestral fields, not purchased fields. A purchased field was originally someone else's ancestral inheritance, and it would be unfair to me to deprive someone else of their ancestral inheritance by making it sanctified without ability to redeem.

You may wonder, where do these unredeemable goods go? To the priest. (Source: Bamidbar 18:14, and of course Vayikra 27:21)

What about verse 29, which says that human "herem" must be killed? Verse 28 specifies that the "herem" it refers to must be owned by the giver. Based on this, one would suppose that human "herem" refers to one's slaves. If so, then verse 29 seems to suggest that one may freely get their slaves killed by sanctifying them (!). This seems not only morally outrageous, but incompatible with other laws in the Torah. Should knocking out a slave's tooth lead to the slave's freedom (Shemot 21:26), but killing the slave has no punishment? A master is required to give his slave gifts when the slave goes free (Devarim 15:14); should the master be able to "save money" by killing the slave a day before his release? These possibilities are absurd. Therefore, it seems impossible to understand verse 29 as referring to a slave. The commentator Shadal notes that the "herem" in verse 28 is a gift "to Hashem", while in verse 29 this is not mentioned, implying that it is a different kind of "herem". Rashbam says "herem" in this verse refers to a death penalty convict who may not be redeemed; Ramban suggests it refers to the enemy population of a city that Israel has sworn to conquer (as in Bamidbar 21:2).

The well story

Parshat Chukat contains a short and cryptic story about a well:

...from there to the well, which is the well about which Hashem said to Moshe, "Gather the people, and I will give them water." Then Israel sang this song: "Rise up, O well - answer it - A well dug by princes, carved by the leaders of the people, with the staff, with their rods" (Bamidbar 21:16-18)

Even in this short passage, we see apparent inconsistencies.

• First, God says that He will provide the people with water.
  
• Then, the people say "Rise up, O well", which perhaps sounds like a well is rising miraculously, as God might do in these circumstances.
  
• However, then the people say that the well was dug by human beings, not by God!
  
• Then they say that the digging was done by the leaders (not normal manual laborers), and it used their staffs (not normal digging tools)!

How are these pieces to be put together into a single coherent story?

I think the answer is to look at how miracles were often performed in earlier events in the Torah. In Egypt, for example, the norm was for Moshe to point his staff at something, or hit something with his staff, and a miracle would then occur involving that something.

What is the parallel here? God announced to Moshe that God would provide water. Moshe and Aharon got their staffs, and pointed at or hit a certain rock. This caused water to miraculously come from the ground. At which point the people sung their song.

This explains how all the events could logically have happened. But there is still one inconsistency. Initially God announced that He would provide water. But in the song, the people do not mention God's role, but only the role of humans who "dug" the well. Why the difference?

To answer this, let's examine a very similar story from just one chapter earlier. At Mei Merivah, Moshe was commanded to take his staff and provide water for the people. It's not clear exactly why, but God saw Moshe's ensuing actions as a failure to "sanctify God" before the people. One common interpretation is that Moshe hit the rock, rather than speaking to it, which indicated that Moshe rather than God was the one providing water.

If so, at the time of our story with the well, the people might still have believe that Moshe not God was providing them with water. Here Moshe pointed his staff at the ground and water rose from it, which should have been a sign of God's miraculous intervention. But the people mistakenly saw it as an act of Moshe. And when they sang their song, cheering the rise of the well, they chose to praise Moshe and Aharon rather than God.

This understanding resolves all the loose ends in the story. How does it fit with our understanding of the rest of the Torah?

The most obvious question is about "song". There is a midrashic idea (appearing in the Mechilta, Tanchuma, the beginning of Targum Shir Hashirim, and other sources, generally searchable on Bar Ilan CD with the words "eser shirot") which lists ten "songs" that have been sung throughout history. The exact list varies slightly between sources, but here is a common version: in Egypt; after the splitting of the sea; at the well (our story); around parshat Haazinu; by Yehoshua; by Devorah and Barak; by David; by Shlomo; by Shlomo in Shir Hashirim; and the final song which will be recited in the future messianic era. The common element in these "songs" is that they are Divinely inspired, righteous, and holy. But according to my interpretation of the well song, rather than being holy, it was based on a massive theological mistake. It seems that my explanation of the story is incompatible with this view of "song". Accepting this midrash is not an article of faith, but we should be clear what we would have to give up by accepting my explanation.

The second question is the place of the story in Sefer Bamidbar. It is commonly accepted that the Jewish people's behavior was different in the second and fourtieth years of their desert journey. The second year was full of rebellions, culminating in the stories of the spies and Korach. The fourtieth year, in contrast, showed a Jewish people that had learned their lessons, and were now spiritually ready to enter the land of Israel.

But this picture is not so clear. The story of the snakes (21:4-9) was yet another rebellion ending in punishment (though for several reasons it might be more positive than the previous rebellions). And the episode with the daughters of Moav was so serious that God raised the possibility of destroying the people entirely (25:11). Of course there are also more positive stories, such as the people making and keeping a vow to God (21:1-3). So I think there is enough room here for another negative story. The people was still quite flawed, but after 40 years in the desert, they were sufficiently improved that they could handle conquering and living in the land of Israel.

Thoughts on Shemot

Aharon your brother... he comes out to meet you, and he will see you and be happy in his heart. (Shemot 4:14)

Why does it matter that Aharon was "happy in his heart"?

Aharon was the oldest, firstborn brother, and here he was called upon to take a subordinate role to Moshe. Elsewhere in the Torah, older brothers typically get angry and jealous when their firstborn role is taken away from them.

The exile in Egypt started when Yosef's brothers sold him into slavery rather than accepting a subordinate role to him. Fittingly, it ended when Aharon was able to graciously and peacefully accept that Moshe had been chosen as the leader, and work together with Moshe to get the Israelites freed.

Pharaoh's ministers

After Pharaoh's two ministers had their dreams interpreted by Yosef, one was returned to his position, while the other was executed. Why did they deserve these different fates?

Perhaps the answer comes from how they decided to seek Yosef's interpretation. The cupbearer heard Yosef say "Does not God have interpretations? Tell me [your dream]". Thus, he wanted to hear God's message (as conveyed by Yosef). Meanwhile, regarding the baker, the Torah says "The baker saw that [Yosef] had interpreted well". This can be understood to mean that Yosef gave a positive interpretation to the first dream, so the baker expected a positive interpretation as well.

If the first minister wanted to listen to God, while the second minister only cared about his selfish good, is it surprising that the first was rewarded and the second punished?

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Over Shabbat I heard the following idea, which was apparently thought of by a contemporary secular Israeli Tanach enthusiast (I forget the name, I heard it from my friend MS). The idea: In Yosef's second dream, there were 13 heavenly bodies bowing down to him. Yosef was 17 years old when his story began, and 30 years old when he became deputy to Pharaoh. Just as the 7 cows represent 7 years, so the 13 heavenly bodies represent 13 years. Yosef should have known that he would only be elevated at age 30, and so when at age 28 he begged the cupbearer to remember him, this was considered improper behavior.

Egyptian in Israel

There are several rivers in or near Israel, whose Hebrew names begin with the syllable "Yar". These include Yarden, Yarkon, and Yarmuk. Yarden and Yarkon are mentioned in Tanach; the first recorded mention of Yarmuk is in the Roman period. Two more rivers - Yabok and Arnon - might hypothetically begin with a distorted version of "Yar". Israel is semi-arid and only a small number of rivers exist there. Of this small number, it’s surprising that so many begin with the same or similar syllable.

It is often proposed to explain this by saying that before the Hebrew/Canaanite language was spoken in Israel, a different language was spoken, and in this language "yar" was the word for river. So the "Den" river was called Yar Den, and when Hebrew/Canaanite became the local language, "Yarden" was retained as a name. Similarly for the other rivers.

What language could it be that was spoken in Israel before Hebrew?

Look around online, and you will find claims that "yar" means river in ancient Egyptian or Akkadian. If you look in online dictionaries for these two languages, in both the main word for "river" does not resemble "yar". But in the Bible "ye'or" is used to refer to Egyptian rivers (the Nile or one of its branches), and according to the Brown-Driver-Briggs Lexicon, this is derived from the Egyptian "iotr" which can be shortened to "io'r". So Egyptian seems like the most likely source for a word "yar". Based on this, we can hypothesize that before Hebrew/Canaanite was spoken in Israel, a language related to Egyptian was. We don't know if this language became extinct through assimilation or violent conquest, but either way it left only a handful of traces, perhaps including our river names.

Thinking about this last night, I thought of an entirely different line of evidence that Egyptian was once spoken in Israel. In Breishit 10, the genealogy of the 70 nations descended from Noach, Canaan is mentioned as a son of Ham, along with Mitzraim, Kush (Ethiopia), and Put (?). This is even though the Hebrew/Canaanite language is Semitic, so one would expect Canaan to be descended from Shem! Evidently the Torah sees something Hamitic about Canaan, even though the local language at the time of the Torah was Semitic.

To be fair, everything I have said so far is speculation, rather than clear-cut proofs. But when you take two "puzzle pieces" from completely different places (hypotheses based on geography and on genealogies), and find that the pieces "match", each of the two hypotheses looks much stronger than it did before.

The cloud in Pekudei

Parshat Pekudei ends with a description of the cloud that descended upon the Mishkan upon its completion:

The cloud covered the Ohel Moed, and the glory of Hashem filled the Mishkan. Moshe was unable to enter the Ohel Moed, because the cloud rested on it, and the glory of Hashem filled the Mishkan. (40:34-35)

Here are some thoughts about this cloud.

Ohel Moed vs Mishkan

The "Ohel Moed" and "Mishkan" are general names for the sanctuary, but each name also refers to one specific part of the sanctuary.

In the initial command to build a sanctuary, Moshe is told to "make curtains of goat-hide, for an 'ohel' upon the 'mishkan'" (26:7). Here, the "mishkan" is a cloth tent, and the "ohel" is a goat-hide tent placed upon it.

This explains the different uses of "ohel" and "mishkan" in the above verses. The cloud *above* the sanctuary is described in relation to the ohel, and the cloud *within* the sanctuary in relation to the mishkan.

The purpose of the cloud

This cloud wasn't a normal thing. It prevented anyone from entering the Mishkan, but normally, priests would enter the Mishkan at least once a day to perform services like lighting the Menorah. So why did this special one-time cloud appear?

To explain this, let's look at an earlier, similar event involving a cloud:

Moshe went up to the mountain, and the cloud covered the mountain. The glory of Hashem dwelt on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it six days, and He called to Moshe on the seventh day from out of the cloud. The appearance of the glory of Hashem was like fire burning on the peak of the mountain, in view of the children of Israel. Moshe entered the cloud, and went up the mountain, and Moshe was on the mountain for forty days and forty nights. (24:15-18)

There are a number of similarities between this cloud and the cloud that covered the Mishkan:

• In both cases, an unusual cloud descends to cover the holy site. (Apparently Mount Sinai had previously not been covered by clouds, despite the involvement of clouds in the Sinai revelation).
• With the Mishkan, a "cloud" was present above the Mishkan, while the "glory of Hashem" was present within the Mishkan. Similarly here, the "glory of Hashem" dwelt on the mountain, while the "cloud" covered the mountain. Both terms are present, and arguably there is the same order, with the "cloud" physically above the "glory of Hashem".
• At Sinai, after six days of Moshe waiting outside the cloud, God calls to Moshe and he enters the cloud and receives the Torah. Similarly, in the Mishkan, God calls to Moshe. This command is found in the first verse of Vayikra, and is followed by the laws of sacrifices.

What is the point of these similarities?

One of the main purposes of the Mishkan is described in Shemot 25:21-22:

"You shall place the cover upon the ark, above it; and in the ark, you shall place the Testimony I will give you. I will meet you there, and I will speak with you from above the cover, between the two cherubs upon the ark of testimony, all that I shall command you regarding the children of Israel."

We see that the Mishkan was a place for revelation. The Sinai revelation was a one-time event, but the continued issuing of commandments (like those in Vayikra) was supposed to occur in the Mishkan.

I think this explains the similarities between the cloud at Sinai and the cloud at the Mishkan. To indicate to Moshe and the people that the revelation from the Mishkan had the same status as that at Sinai, God designed the cloud-appearance in the Mishkan to evoke that which occurred at Sinai.

Explorers and spies

What was the purpose of the mission of the spies, as described in Bamidbar 13 and Devarim 1? And how do we understand the differences between these two accounts?

In this analysis, we will assume that there are two distinct purposes of the twelve men's trip. The first purpose is "latur", meaning to explore* the land, to observe its natural characteristics and agricultural bounty, and to report on this to the people. The second purpose is "leragel", meaning to spy, to investigate the military situation and preparations of the land's inhabitants, in preparation for conquest. We can easily distinguish these purposes when they occur. Descriptions of the land and its produce are irrelevant to conquest and thus a part of "exploring"; descriptions of the people and fortifications (which God had promised to overcome) are irrelevant to "exploring" and therefore part of "spying".

The distinction between these purposes is well-known. But I have not seen anyone examine the passages based on these purposes, in the structured manner that I plan to. When I quote verses, I will use bold text to describe exploring, and red italic text to describe spying. This should make clear what exactly is going on in each verse, and allow us to piece together how the entire episode actually took place.

1. In Bamidbar

God's initial command to Moshe mentions only exploring:

Hashem spoke to Moshe saying: "Send you men to explore the land of Canaan which I give to the children of Israel. One man from each tribe you shall send, each one a prince among them."

The men chosen are princes and leaders, perhaps because a public report is most trusted when given by well known and respected individuals.

But when Moshe commands the men before their trip, he greatly expands on God's command:

Moshe sent them to explore the land of Canaan, and said to them:
Go up here in the Negev, and go up the mountain.
And see the land, what it is like,
and the people dwelling in it, are they strong or weak, are they few or many,
and what is the land they dwell in like, is it good or bad,
and what are the cities they dwell in like, are they in camps or fortresses,
and what is the land like, is it fat or thin, does it have trees in it or not?
And you shall be strong, and take from the fruit of the land.

We see that Moshe instructs the men both to explore and to spy. Indeed, he interweaves the two in a kind of chiastic pattern (ABABA).

What do the spies actually do? We see that they perform both parts of their mission:

They went up, and explored the land from the Tzin wilderness to Rehov near Hamat. They went up in the Negev, and came to Hevron, and there were Ahiman, Sheshai and Talmi, children of Anak; and Hevron was built seven years before Tzoan of Egypt. They came to Nahal Eshkol, and cut from there one sprig and cluster of grapes, and carried it on a pole using two men, and [took] from the pomegranates and figs.

The presence of Anakites ("giants") in the land is clearly of military significance. So is the antiquity of Hevron. R' Yaakov Medan explains that ancient Middle East cities were built as "tels", layer upon layer, so the older the city, the higher its "tel" and the harder it would be to conquer.

When the men deliver their report, they also mention both aspects of their mission:

"We came to the land where you send us, and indeed it flows with milk and honey, and this is its fruit. Nevertheless, strong are the people dwelling in the land, and the cities are great and very fortified, and we also saw the children of Anak there. Amalek dwells in the Negev..."

After this the situation descends into a sorry argument and rebellion, but even then the men mention both parts of their mission:

They slandered the land to the children of Israel, saying, "The land which we went in to explore, it is a land which devours its inhabitants, and all the people we saw in it were people of measure. And there we saw the Nefilim, sons of Anak from the Nefilim, and we were like locusts in our eyes, and so were we in their eyes."

And so do Yehoshua and Kalev in their dissent:

The land which we went in to explore, the land is very very good. If Hashem is pleased with us, He will bring us to this land and give it to us. Only do not rebel against Hashem, and do not fear the people of the land, for they are our bread; their defense has left them and Hashem is with us, so do not fear them.

In summary, we see that in God's initial command, only exploring is mentioned. But in every single event that follows, both exploring and spying are mentioned.

I think this is the most straightforward view of the events. God's initial command was simply to explore. For some reason, Moshe combined this with a command to spy. From then on, for the rest of the episode, exploring and spying were linked together.

2. In Devarim

In Moshe's retelling, no Divine command is mentioned. Rather, the initiative for the trip seems to come from the people, and it is purely about spying:

You all approached me, saying: "Let us send men before us, who will search the land for us, and give us a report of the way we shall go up to it and the cities we will come to."

There is no mention of the men being princes. For spying purposes, any twelve soldiers can do, and if anything, top leaders should not be exposed to the risks of a spying mission.

Then, the men went on their journey. What they did involved both exploring and spying, but perhaps the spying seems to be first and most important. Here, for the only time in the Torah, the verb "to spy" is used to refer to this trip:

They turned and went up the mountain, and came to Nahal Eshkol, and spied there. They took in their hands from the fruit of the land, and brought to us...

Surprisingly, the men's report, as initially told, seems to be entirely about exploring:

They said: "Good is the land which Hashem our God has given us."

But then the people begin to complain, and in their complaint they mention a different report, which involves spying. As Moshe tells it:

You complained in your tents, saying: Because Hashem hated us, He took us out of the land of Egypt, to deliver us into the hand of the Amorite to destroy us. Where are we going up to? Our brothers melted our hearts, saying, "The nation is greater and taller than us, and the cities great and fortified up to the heavens, and the sons of the Anakites we saw there."

So what did the twelve men actually report? The results of their exploring, or the results of their spying? I think it's clear that they reported both. But Moshe chooses to dignify their exploring as "the" report, the only one he is willing to mention as such. The report of the spying, he puts in the mouths of the rebellious desert generation, not his own mouth. He thereby implies that the people should have listened only to the exploring.

3. General thoughts

Each passage, in Bamidbar and Devarim, has an internal difficulty. In Bamidbar, the mission includes both exploring and spying, though God had only mentioned exploring. In Devarim, the mission includes both exploring and spying, though the people had only asked to spy. Luckily for us, it seems that each passage supplies the information that is missing from the other. It appears that Bamidbar describes half of what led to the mission (God's command to explore) and Devarim the other half (the people's request to spy). These two initiatives must have occurred around the same time, and Moshe combined them into a single mission, which is fully described in both Bamidbar and Devarim.

For this understanding to work, we must explain what led Bamidbar to exclude the people's request to spy, and Devarim to exclude God's command to explore.

3a. What Bamidbar excludes

Let us start with Bamidbar. In many places, the Torah tells a story twice, and we are supposed to understand something by carefully examining the differences between the original and the retelling. One example is the marriage of Rivka. In the original telling, the slave apparently looked for a hospitable woman from any family. But in his long retelling, he makes it sound like only a relative of Avraham would have been acceptable.

Here in Bamidbar, we have something similar. After God's command, it should be unnecessary to record what Moshe told the men. But Moshe's words are recorded, and they differ from God's command, and this difference (the addition of spying) is exactly what led to the mission's failure. Moshe is the leader, and leaders must take responsibility for their decisions. So here Moshe gets the blame, even if the issue of spying was initially suggested by the people.

3b. What Devarim excludes

Devarim has a different perspective from Bamidbar in two ways. First, Moshe is not speaking as an "objective" historian. Rather, he intends to emphasize the people's past sins and the consequences, to deter them from sinning in the future. Second, he is speaking about himself, so he includes a personal perspective.

As part of Moshe's goal to remind the people of their sins, he shows a negative attitude toward the entire spies episode. If only none of the episode had happened, the death of a whole generation in the desert would have been avoided. The presence of a Divine command to send explorers seriously complicates this picture. Perhaps to keep the message simple, Moshe omits that command entirely.

Interesting, Moshe does use the verb "to explore" ("latur") once. This verb is rare, appearing just 9 times in all of Tanach outside the story in Bamidbar, so its use here is significant. After the negative spying report, Moshe tells the people not to abandon God,

"who travels before you on the road, to explore for you a place to encamp, with fire at night, to show you the road you should walk on, and with cloud by day."

For those who had exploring on their mind, Moshe does emphasize that "real" exploring is that which God continually does to protect Israel, and any negative conclusions that might be drawn from 12 men's exploring are insignificant in comparison.

As for how Moshe portrays his own behavior, as one might expect, his perspective is more complex and mixed than that in Bamidbar. Though he puts the blame for initiating the spying on the people, he also admits that "the matter was good in my eyes" (1:23). This makes him complicit in the sin, and explains why "God was angry at me too regarding you, saying: You too shall not go there" (1:37).

Also, Moshe says that he vocally opposed the spies' defeatism when they returned, unlike in Bamidbar where only Yehoshua and Kalev are mentioned as speaking up. Perhaps, Moshe's words are not mentioned in Bamidbar because, naturally, the people would not listen to Moshe when they could listen to men who had actually seen the land. Whereas in Devarim, even an ineffectual criticism from Moshe fits the theme of the criticisms he is giving the people 39 years later.

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*Coincidentally, the English "tour" and Hebrew "latur" not only sound the same, but appear to derive from the same root, meaning "to turn", as a person goes back and forth seeing things until he has seen everything. But the word "tour" has the connotations of traveling for pleasure, and without a practical goal in mind, which are out of place here. So I use "explore" as a translation instead.

The yoke

Speak to the children of Israel, and let them take to you a perfect red cow, with no blemish, which has never worn a yoke. (Bamidbar 19:2)

That the cow have no blemish is a well-known condition for sacrifices. Why, though, the requirement of never having worn a yoke?

Ever since the first-ever sacrifice in Breishit, where Hevel's offering of firstborn sheep was accepted by God, it has been preferred that "the first" of something be used for sacrifices. This is reflected in numerous later examples, such as bikurim for fruits, the laws of bechor for animals and people, and perhaps even Jericho (the first city conquered in Israel) becoming "herem... la-hashem" (Yehoshua 6:17) rather than being plundered by the conquerers.

I think the rule about the yoke is also a case of sacrificing "the first". In this case, that means that the first work done with the cow should be the act of sacrifice. The word for field labor is "avodah", and a sacrifice is also considered a form of "avodah". Both field labor and sacrifice are part of the service/servitude which might be expected of a cow.

I haven't thought about why exactly this requirement is absent for most sacrifices (one can come up with all sorts of guesses why). But where it is present (for parah adumah, and also for eglah arufah), I think the reason is in order to sacrifice "the first".

Bamidbar and Shelach

For years I've wondered if the super-verbose intro to Bamidbar, with the censuses and camps and whatnot, is designed to give us a sense of how big and unmanageable the nation was, as an introduction to the stories where it in fact turns out to be unmanageable.

After seeing verse 14:29 this year, I'm convinced:

בַּמִּדְבָּר הַזֶּה יִפְּלוּ פִגְרֵיכֶם וְכָל-פְּקֻדֵיכֶם, לְכָל-מִסְפַּרְכֶם, מִבֶּן עֶשְׂרִים שָׁנָה, וָמָעְלָה: אֲשֶׁר הֲלִינֹתֶם, עָלָי.

It uses every key word from the beginning of the book - bamidbar, pekudim, mispar, miben esrim. It seems (to me) to be referring back to those stories, just as those stories (I assume) refer in part to here.

The story of the spies concludes a series of disastrous events, beginning with the "mit'onnenim" in Behaalotecha. Here we reach absolute bottom, where the triumphant journey to Israel is entirely called off, until all the men die and are replaced by others.

The census was a triumphant moment, a demonstration of the people's power and potential. But as we see, it also contained the seeds of their destruction.