The kohen marriage laws

A kohen cannot marry a divorcee, "zonah", or "chalalah". A kohen gadol, additionally, cannot marry a widow. Why do these laws exist?

My theory is that:

1) Speculatively: If a kohen married a promiscuous woman, it would shame him and by extension his priestly office. People would assume that her immorality reflected his immorality, or that he was likely suffering the humiliation of being cheated on by her. To avoid this shame to him and his office, he is prohibited to marry a "zonah", who was promiscuous. Perhaps the law of "chalalah" fits here too.

2) Speculatively: In ancient times divorce was usually due to suspicion of infidelity on the part of the wife. Therefore, a kohen marrying a divorcee would present the same issue as marrying a known promiscuous woman (perhaps to a lesser extent), so the Torah prohibits it.

The Mishna (Gittin 9:10) lists three opinions about when a husband may divorce his wife:
* Beit Shammai: only if he found a "matter of immorality" in her
* Beit Hillel: Even if she burned his food
* R' Akiva: Even if he found a more beautiful woman

Modern halacha follows R' Akiva, but all three opinions have their basis in Biblical verses (mentioned in the Mishna), and it may be assumed that all three are reasonable interpretations of the attitude to divorce expressed in the Bible. If we are to take the "consensus" of these opinions, it seems likely that many divorces in Biblical times were motivated by the wife's suspected adultery, even if there was no requirement that ALL divorces have this basis.

Should this approach stigmatize divorcees today as likely adulterers? No. Many divorces nowadays have no connection to adultery, and even if a kohen married a known adulterer, I don't think her stigma would transfer as easily to him now as it did in the past. So nowadays, this is a law without a purpose. This is not disturbing: There are many mitzvot whose purpose was relevant in the ancient world and not today (for example: not making sculptures of the moon, lest you worship it), and I am comfortable adding one more to the list.

This approach suggests that if a woman was divorced and then widowed, she would still be forbidden to a kohen, as the stigma from her original divorce would remain in her history. (This seems to be accepted halacha today.)

3) Speculatively: The kohen gadol must have even higher standards than a regular kohen. Thus he must marry a virgin, and cannot even marry a widow.

A virgin can be physically examined for signs of virginity. A widow has no signs of virginity, so there is no conclusive way of verifying that she has never been promiscuous. Apparently, for the kohen gadol, the requirements are similar to a regular kohen, but stricter.

This assumes that virginity is a physical state, which can be determined by physical examination. I hear that according to modern science (and to a lesser extent, sources in Chazal), this is not the case: a woman can have or lack the physical signs of "virginity" whether or not she is actually a virgin. But because our approach is based on how the kohen gadol in ancient times was viewed by people around him, what matter is not the science, but rather what ancient people *thought* was the science, even if they were wrong.

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 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.

Thoughts on Emor

A kohen is allowed to make himself impure only when one of four categories of people dies: 1) his parent 2) his child 3) his brother 4) his unmarried sister. Why these four exceptions, and no more and no less?

Let us start by suggesting why a kohen may not become impure in general. It seems to me that this is because he must always be ready to serve in the Temple. If he touches a corpse, he makes himself impure and unable to serve for at least seven days. He must avoid this, in case he is needed to perform Temple service.

But when certain family members die, the prohibition on becoming impure is suspended. Which factors can be strong enough to override our interest in having the kohen always ready for service?

One natural guess would be that due to the emotional bonds a person feels to their immediate family, it would be cruel to exclude them from the burial and mourning process. But a person can mourn without actually approaching the corpse and making themselves impure. And it is not obvious why one's bonds to a married sister would be so much weaker than to an unmarried sister or a brother.

A variation of this approach is to note that the Temple is intrinsically a place of happiness ("usmachtem lifnei hashem elokechem") and life (the tablets in the Temple, like the tree in the Garden of Eden, are an "etz chaim" guarded by keruvim). (In fact, this may be the source for the entire prohibition on ritual impurity, which typically comes from death, in the Temple.) Perhaps a kohen will be so distressed by a death in the family that he will not be able to carry out his service with the properly happy attitude. But here, too, it is not clear why the Torah should differentiate between married and unmarried sisters.

When thinking up this post on the bus today, I came up with a third possible reason for the prohibition. I couldn't rule it out, but now I've forgotten it. So as I now present a fourth reason, keep in mind that I'm not 100% sure it's correct.

The fourth possible reason is that the kohen was needed for the actual work of carrying out the burial. Let us assume that the burial process necessarily involved men, if only because certain parts of it required heavy physical labor. We can see that the relatives for whom a kohen may become impure are exactly those who would likely not have another man available to bury them. For this purpose, imagine now that I am a kohen and one of my relatives has died.

- If my father dies, he may not have any brothers, and his father is probably dead by now (or at least too old for physical labor). If my mother dies, there is a good chance that my father has already died and the situation is the same. Thus, the task is left to me.

- If my child dies, he or she may not have a brother who can bury them - leaving the task to me.

- If my brother or sister dies, I may be the only brother, and our father may be dead or too old - leaving the task to me.

But there is an exception to the last rule: if my sister is married. Then, her husband can perform the burial, so there is no reason for me to do it and become impure.

This reasoning explains each of the categories listed in the Torah. The only exception is a married daughter, who by this logic should be buried by her husband, not by her father. But we may suggest that in general a man's daughter, unlike his sister, would not get married until after he lost his life or physical vigor.

Having concluded that the law here is based on a balance between the need for Temple service and the need to carry out the burial, let us now look at the case of the kohen gadol, who was not allowed to impurify himself for any relative.

We could justify this law by adjusting the balance from either of its ends. We could say that the kohen gadol's need to serve was greater - he was expected to offer at least one sacrifice every single day ("minchat chavitin"), unlike the normal kohen who might be called on to serve only on rare occasions. (Of course, the fact that even these rare occasions necessitate a constant avoidance of impurity indicates how important Temple service actually is.) Alternatively, we could say that his need to bury was lesser - he necessarily lived near the Temple, and plenty of other people were around to do the burial for him.

There is one circumstance where, perhaps, we can test which of these alternatives is true. If even the kohen gadol encountered a "met mitzvah" - a corpse with nobody to bury it - he was required to bury it, despite the resulting impurity. Does this prove that the kohen gadol could not bury his relatives only because other people were around to do it, so in a case where by definition nobody was around, he was required to bury?

It is tempting logic, but I don't think we need to throw out the consideration of the kohen gadol's daily sacrifice. That is one mitzvah, but burying a corpse is another mitzvah. For the kohen gadol who has just encountered the corpse, perhaps we can say that the more immediate mitzvah of burial took precedence over the mitzvah which would only have been performed later that day.

Timtum halev

Do not make yourselves disgusting through all the swarming creatures, and do not make yourself impure through them, venitmetem (ונטמתם) through them. (Vayikra 11:43)

What does “venitmetem” mean? The most obvious explanation is that it means “and you shall become impure”, being derived from the word “tamei”. That fits well with the theme of impurity which is a central aspect of the kosher-animal chapter, though it does seem redundant, since impurity was already mentioned in the previous phrase. (The problem with this explanation is that “tamei” has the letter alef in it, and “venitmetem” does not. However, there are cases in Tanach where an alef disappears from the spelling of a word, since it is not pronounced. This could be another such case.)

Ibn Ezra on the verse cites the above explanation, but then brings an alternative. “Some say they [tamei, venitmetem] are two different roots, as in [נטמינו בעיניכם], its meaning being, like a person who does not have wisdom.” If so, then the verse should be translated: “...and do not make yourself impure through them, and become foolish through them.”

This grammatical understanding may be the “pshat” basis for the idea of “timtum halev”. As for what the idea actually means, well, that's beyond the scope of this post. But you can find an interesting discussion here.

Uncovering nakedness

The Torah frequently used the expression "gilui ervah", "uncovering nakedness", to describe sexual encounters. Literally, this refers only to the removal of clothing, and physical contact is implied rather than stated. One assumes that this is a euphemism, used to ensure modesty when discussing immodest matters.

But there are problems with this understanding. In other places, such as Devarim 28:30, the Torah uses more explicit language. Why could the same language not have been used in the sexual laws, particularly when there is the danger of misunderstand the laws to prohibit stripping as well as actual intercourse?

An alternative suggested itself to me on Shavuot morning while hearing Ruth 4:4. There appears the phrase "gilui ozen", "uncovering an ear". From a concordance I learned that the phrase means to inform or command someone. This usage too departs from the literal meaning of "uncovering". You might assume that "uncovering" an ear means to get someone's attention, to make them receptive to speech which might come in the future. But here it means not only that the ear is exposed, but that words enter it and implant some idea in the listener's mind, causing the listener to act differently in the future.

Perhaps "uncovering" has the same additional connotations - penetration and implantation - when used to describe "nakedness". If so, then "uncovering nakedness" is not a euphemism, but a quite exact reference to sexual intercourse. It becomes clear that only the full sexual act is forbidden. Simply disrobing, while inappropriate, does not incur the death penalty.

This understanding of "uncovering" is perhaps supported by Vayikra 18:10: "Do not uncover the nakedness of your [granddaughters], for they are your nakedness." From this verse it appears there is something wrong with uncovering your own nakedness. People see themselves naked whenever they bathe and the Torah permits bathing. So the phrase "your nakedness" only makes sense, even as a metaphor, if "uncovering" means more than exposure.

More support comes from the fact that the phrase "gilui ervah" is used only regarding women. ("Uncovering your father's nakedness" in Vayikra 18:8 means to uncover your father's wife's nakedness, on the principle that married people "become one flesh", Breishit 2:24.) The only verse to mention a man's nakedness - Vayikra 20:17 - says that his nakedness is seen rather than uncovered. Meanwhile, his incestuous female partner's nakedness is both "seen" and "uncovered". Since the man is not penetrated, it appears that "uncovering" cannot be applied to him.

What is the practical difference between "seeing" and "uncovering"? To uncover something means to necessarily see it, and also implies an action performed by the observer to the observed. It is this active role that the phrases "uncovering ears" and "uncovering nakedness" both allude to.

You will undoubtedly accuse me of having a dirty mind, for basing this post on a comparison between the ear and female genitalia. But it is not me doing the comparison, it is the Hebrew language which used the same metaphor for both. And it is not dirty, in the sense that when I needed a metaphor for ears, genitals came to mind. Rather, when metaphors for both ears and genitals were needed, the same third option came to mind. Having cleared myself of the accusation of crudeness, hopefully you will appreciate the interpretation that I have now uncovered.

Thoughts on Kedoshim

You shall not do wrong in judgment - in length, weight, or volume. Fair balances, fair weights, a fair efah, and a fair hin you shall have; I am Hashem your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt. (19:35-36)

The first verse mentions three types of measurement in which we must not cheat people. The second verse gives examples, with the efah and hin being units of volume, or rather containers with volume equal those units.

The second verse follows the order of the first verse: weight measurement, then volume measurement. Length measurement, however, is conspicuously absent. Shouldn't a fair yardstick and tape measure have been mentioned before the fair balance, weights, efah, and hin?

Here are two possible explanations for why they are not mentioned.

1) Dishonest length measuring tools could be immediately detected by placing them next to fair tools, while with weight and volume measures the deception would be less obvious. Thus, perhaps, dishonesty was less common in length than in volume or weight measurements, so they did not need to be mentioned multiple times for emphasis.

2) Perhaps length was normally measured not with tools but with body parts. We are familiar with halachic measurements such as cubits and thumb-breadths, and secular measurements such as "feet" and paces, which derive from the human body. It is certainly possibly to cheat somebody in a length measurement, by bending a body part or changing your pace length. But this cheating was not normally done using a dishonest tool.

The first verse bans cheating. The second verse bans tools whose only possible use is unacceptable (like skeleton keys and "assault weapons" nowadays). Since body parts cannot be outlawed, they are omitted from the second verse.

Thoughts on Metzora

Parshat Metzora ends with the laws of impurity of bodily emissions (15:1-32), which are presented in the following order:

1. Zav
2. Seminal emission
3. Menstruation
4. Zava

It can readily be seen that these four laws form a chiastic structure:

1. Unnatural male emission
2. Natural male emission
3. Natural female emission
4. Unnatural female emission

The underlying logic is clear. The laws are divided into those of males and females, while the male and female sections are each divided into natural and unnatural emissions. The order of laws in the female section is reversed, so that as we go from the male to the female section, the subtopic (natural emissions) remains the same.

Like all ancient texts, originally the Torah was most often recited and heard rather than read by individuals. One can skip from page to page while reading a book, but not while hearing an oral recitation. Thus smooth continuity, in addition to logical structure, is a compelling factor in the Torah's organization. A chiastic structure was inevitable in this chapter, because no other ordering is continuous between its sections as well as logically clear.

It is on the basis of unambiguous passages like this that people think that the Torah uses chiastic structures. The key question is to what extent such structures are present in cases when the structure is less apparent and its utility less clear. That is one debate between the "literary Tanach" enthusiasts, and between those who think literary methods are sometimes overused to discover patterns that do not really exist.

Thoughts on Shmini

In parshat Shemini we read about the death of Nadav and Avihu. In parshat Acharei Mot we read the follow-up to this story:

Hashem spoke to Moshe, after the death of the two sons of Aharon, when they approached Hashem, and died. Hashem said to Moshe: "Speak to Aharon your brother, that he not approach the holy place at all times..." (16:1-2)

Not only is Acharei Mot introduced by a reference to Shemini, but the Yom Kippur sacrifices specified in Acharei Mot are the same as those offered on the 8th day of the Mishkan's inauguration.

It would seem natural for Acharei Mot to immediately follow the story in Shemini. But there are five chapters of apparently unrelated material in between. What is this material doing there?

Looking at this material, we see it consists of four sections:

1. Kashrut of food
2. Impurity of a woman who has given birth
3. Leprosy
4. Bodily emissions

The common element between them is the centrality of purity and impurity. Sections 2 and 4 deal exclusively with such laws. And purity is the central theme in sections 1 and 3: non-kosher animal species are called "impure" species and it is emphasized that one who touches their carcass becomes impure; while to be diagnosed with leprosy is to be declared "impure".

It seems that the purpose of these laws is to establish ritual boundaries in different aspects of life. Nadav and Avihu's sin involved ignoring necessary behavioural boundaries in the Mishkan. The laws of purity and impurity, which establish such boundaries throughout life, are training to sensitize ourselves to such boundaries. Only after learning, practicing, and internalizing these laws can we be ready to return to the Mishkan. Acharei Mot, which teaches us how to properly enter the Mishkan as far as the Holy of Holies, must wait until we have prepared ourselves and there is no chance that Nadav and Avihu's mistake will recur.

Now, there are many laws of purity in the Torah and not all of them appear in our passage. Why where these particular laws chosen and others not? To answer this, let us look at a clear pattern in the themes of the laws that were chosen:

1. Substances entering the body
2. Birth
3. Death*
4. Substances leaving the body

*A leper is regarded as somewhat dead; see for example the description of Miriam's leprosy: "Let her not be like a dead person" (Bamidbar 12:12).

Sections 2 and 3 represent a person, from the beginning to the end of life. Sections 1 and 4 represent the limits between that person and the outside world. These four sections serve to define human existence in the dimensions of space and time. These are not the only laws of purity in existence. But they are sufficient to symbolize a system of purity and impurity which encompasses every aspect of our lives.

Thoughts on Sefer Vayikra

Many people find Sefer Vayikra boring. It has lots of laws and few stories. The stories which do appear aren't very interesting. And the laws are weird and obscure. Perhaps worst of all, there is no chronological context; laws and stories seem to be jumbled together without rhyme or reason. What exactly are we supposed to take away from such an apparently inscrutable book?

On close inspection, though, Sefer Vayikra in fact has a simple, elegant, and meaningful structure. The stories and laws are closely integrated into thematic sections. Basically, there are three halachic passages in Vayikra. Each of these comes right after a story, completing the story and memorializing the lessons learned from it. And the three sections themselves seem to fit a quite interesting pattern, which will be discussed later on.

The stories and laws can be summarized as follows:

	(Shemot 25-40		Story 1: The Mishkan is built)
	Vayikra 1-7		Halacha 1: Sacrifices in the Mishkan/Temple
	Vayikra 8-10		Story 2: Nadav/Avihu killed at Mishkan inauguration
	Vayikra 11-24:9		Halacha 2: Establishing boundaries
	Vayikra 24:10-24:23		Story 3: A blasphemer is put to death
	Vayikra 25-26		Halacha 3: The Sinai covenant and fear of God

(I ignore chapter 27 because I consider it to be completely outside the basic structure of Sefer Vayikra - see here.)

Halacha 1:

This reacts to the previous story (in Sefer Shemot) in which the Mishkan was built. Now we have a Mishkan, this tells us what to do with it. The Mishkan was only constructed once, but the use or maintenance of the Mishkan, by means of these sacrifices, was supposed to continue forever.

Story 2:

This is the first story actually in Vayikra. The Mishkan is inaugurated through an intricate procedure. But meanwhile, Nadav and Avihu bring an incense offering which God hadn't commanded, and they are killed for this offense.

Halacha 2:

Nadav and Avihu's crime was to offer incense which God had not commanded. More fundamentally, they failed to recognize that the Mishkan is especially holy, God's special territory so to speak, and different rules apply there than elsewhere (see here). Their crime was to ignore the boundary between the Mishkan and regular life.

As a result, the laws which follow the Nadav and Avihu story are all about establishing boundaries between the holy and the non-holy. Specifically, between kosher and not-kosher food, purity and impurity, holidays and regular days, priests and everyone else, and the Temple and outside life. Even the non-ritual and social-justice laws in this section (chapter 19, parshat Kedoshim) are presented in terms of preserving the distinction between holy and non-holy. Nadav and Avihu's failure to recognize the distinctiveness of the Mishkan is used as an opportunity to emphasize the distinctiveness with which Jews must conduct themselves throughout their lives.

Story 3:

A man is caught blaspheming God and is imprisoned. God says that he should be stoned to death, and they do so. God also specifies the punishments (capital or monetary) for various other crimes.

Halacha 3:

Sefer Vayikra begins with the introduction, "And [God] called to Moshe, and Hashem spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting, saying...".

This implies that first laws in the book were given not on Mount Sinai, but in the newly built Mishkan. The same seems to be true of all the laws which follow it, until chapter 25 (parshat Behar) - the beginning of the "Halacha 3" section. Here, the command is introduced with the line "Hashem spoke to Moshe on Mount Sinai, saying...". Apparently the "Halacha 3" section was in fact given at Sinai, while “Halacha 1” and “Halacha 2” were not.

If we look at the details of this final section, we see further links to Mount Sinai. Parshat “Behar” includes laws of the sabbatical year, the jubilee, slavery and the land, as well as a brief discussion of idolatry, Shabbat, and the Temple. All of these are very similar to the laws in parshat Mishpatim, which is the main body of laws following the Mount Sinai story. The next chapter, “Bechukotai”, is even more closely related to Sinai. It is the text of a covenant, and the only covenant which has been made so far is that of Sinai.

But at the same time, “Halacha 3” differs from the previous stories from Mount Sinai. There, it seems that humans can function somewhat autonomously and independently from God, though of course not in rebellion against Him. Here, the constant repetition of the phrase “ani Hashem”, and the symbolism of God as ever-present ruler and owner, indicate a different theological perspective. While the mitzvot in "Halacha 3" are like those in Mishpatim, the tone seems to be more like the rest of Sefer Vayikra.

As R' Yoni Grossman says, at Sinai we accepted the Torah willingly - out of love of God. Love is an extremely important aspect of our relationship with God, but so is fear of God. This equally important second face does not play a major part in Mishpatim, presumably because it was not what motivated us at that point. But it is the main aspect here. If fear of God had only been presented in connection with the Mishkan, earlier in Sefer Vayikra, we might mistakenly think that fear of God is only relevant in certain ritual contexts. In fact though, it is necessary in every aspect of our religious life. Thus the commitment of parshat Mishpatim and Mount Sinai is essentially "repeated" here, this time with fear not love as motivation.

Now, finally, let us return to the story of the blasphemer, which precedes these laws. On one level this is simply a story of sin and punishment - the exact details do not matter - which parallels the blessings and curses which follow two chapters later. The knowledge that death sentences are actually carried out is a deterrent against performing capital sins.

On another level, this particular story is thematically connected to the Mount Sinai experience and especially to parshat Mishpatim. It is the first story of a judicial death penalty in the Torah, in contrast to the many previous stories in which people are killed miraculously or without due process. It thus represents the institution of the judicial system which is implied by many of the laws in Mishpatim. The unusual digression in God's declaration of punishments is even more suggestive. After the punishment for blasphemy (the only immediately relevant law), God specifies several other punishments. Murder is punished by death, killing an animal is punished monetarily, and injury to a person is punished "eye for eye, tooth for tooth". These laws are virtually word-for-word the same as their parallels in Mishpatim. The overall impression is that in this story, the laws from Sinai are being implemented for the first time.

And in summary...

It is worth noting that there are exactly three sections in Sefer Vayikra. It is even more interesting to note the progression of the sections: first a section directly related to the Temple service; then a section establishing boundaries, related to the Temple but also relevant outside it; then a section with no connection to the Temple, designed simply to impress fear of God upon us and reconnect to the Mount Sinai experience.

This progression has two striking thematic parallels. The first parallel is the division between the sectors of the Jewish people: kohanim, leviim, yisraelim. The second parallel is the three-tiered physical structure of the Temple itself. In both cases, as in the structure of Sefer Vayikra, there are "higher" and "lower" degrees of sanctification, and a third non-ritual level in which we must nevertheless behave strictly according to God's commands.

It seems that Sefer Vayikra is intentionally designed to suggest one or both of these parallels. Through observance of the various types of laws in Vayikra, we can form our entire society into a kind of Temple. Even today when some fraction of the laws are inapplicable, through the remaining laws we can nevertheless make our community into a vehicle for God's presence.

We also learn - as a general guide for religious life - that ritual laws must be coupled by ethical laws and vice versa, and both types of laws must be underpinned by fear of God.

Interestingly, Sefer Bamidbar seems to have exactly the same story-laws-story-laws pattern as Sefer Vayikra. The difference, of course, is that in Bamidbar the stories are much longer and dominate the book, while the laws are subordinate to them.

UPDATE: Kiddushin 33a mentions that Torat Kohanim, the midrash on Vayikra, is divided into "thirds". Perhaps this is the same as my three-part division? Doubtful, but still...

Thoughts on Behar

There's a clear linguistic parallel between the Torah's commands for the omer and for the yovel:

• Omer: "You shall count for you, from the day after the day of rest, from the day that you brought the 'omer hatenufa'; seven complete weeks they shall be; until the day after the seventh week you shall count 50 days." (Vayikra 23:15-16)
  
• Yovel: "You shall count for you seven weeks of years, seven years seven times; and the days of seven sabbaths of years shall be for you forty and nine years." (Vayikra 25:8)

This parallel may hint at a deeper symbolic parallel.

The yovel cycle goes as follows: 49 years - yovel - 49 years - yovel. Therefore, every period of 49 years has a yovel year, in which people go free, both immediately before and after it.

It seems that for the omer, too, there is an event symbolizing freedom both immediately before and after. Right before the omer is pesach, when we went free from Egypt - that one is obvious. Right afterwards is shavuot, when we received the Torah. The midrash says "charut al haluchot - al tikra charut ela cherut", indicating that the torah is something which "makes you free". What this means in practical terms is not obvious. But perhaps we can say that there are two ways we can view the Torah - as a burden which restricts us from doing things we want to do, or as an opportunity to live one's life and influence the world according to a higher standard of morality. One who follows the (obviously preferable) second approach can indeed say that they are "more free" than they would have been before receiving the Torah.

Thoughts on Behar/Bechukotai

This was supposed to be an addendum to a post on the structure of Sefer Vayikra. But that's still in progress so I'll just post this now.

In addition to their significance in Sefer Vayikra, parshiyot Behar/Bechukotai have special significance in terms of the larger structure of the Torah.

The end of Sefer Vayikra is an important juncture. Chronologically it seems to represent the last laws given at Sinai. Since (before the spies and the 40 years in the desert) the people were supposed to go straight from Sinai to Israel, this was originally meant to be basically the end of the Torah. The last few laws of Vayikra are a kind of concluding statement to the Torah, as well as an introduction to what should have come afterwards - the entry into and settlement of the land of Israel. Looking closely at this section, we will see aspects both of this conclusion and of this introduction.

Behar

These are all laws of social justice, but they have an interesting twist: they are phrased in such a way that they can only be applied in the land of Israel. This is an aspect we do not see in other parts of the Torah (even Devarim, despite its emphasis on the land of Israel). For example, parshat Mishpatim simply says that a slave must go free after six years - apparently a universal humanitarian law which could be applied anywhere. Whereas here at the end of Vayikra, the slave must go free (under slightly different circumstances) in order that he be able to return "to his family and to his ancestral land" (25:41). Were it not for this ancestral land, there would not seem to be a reason for him to go free. (In fact, in the absence of ancestral land to return to, this form of slavery is not practiced - see Arachin 29a.) The presumable social basis for these laws could apply anywhere, but according to their presentation here they are targeted specifically at the entry to Israel.

At the same time, these laws are introduced by saying they were commanded at Mount Sinai. Obviously these were not the only mitzvot given at Sinai, so the obvious question is why they in particular receive the "Mount Sinai" introduction. It seems that this is done in order to connect the blessings and curses in the next chapter to the Mount Sinai experience. The mitzvot which you will be rewarded for keeping and punished for ignoring are not just those of parshat Behar, but all the mitzvot given at Sinai, from parshat Yitro onwards.

Bechukotai

The blessings and curses are a natural fit at the end of the Mount Sinai experience. After learning the nitty-gritty details of all the laws in the Torah, we step back and see the big picture of why we need to keep them - the "practical" reason of not wanting to be punished, as well as the "moral" reason of not wanting to betray the commitment we have made. At the same time, the blessings and curses are integrally related to the upcoming entry to Israel. Compare them, for example, to the very similar passage of blessings and curses in Devarim 28, right before the Jews actually did enter Israel. In both cases, the blessings and curses explain immediate consequences of this entry: either we behaving correctly and are rewarded in the land, or else disobey and are punished and exiled.

Arachin and Hekdesh

Many people find this final chapter of Vayikra puzzling. We just had a dynamite passage of blessings and curses, telling the dramatic story of the Jewish people's sin, exile, and redemption, and ending with the conclusive-sounding verse "These are the laws and statutes and instructions, which Hashem made between Him and the children of Israel, in Mount Sinai, by Moshe's hand." (26:46). There couldn't have been a better end to the book or to the whole Mount Sinai experience. But for some reason there is one last chapter, talking about the obscure laws of Temple property ("hekdesh") and vows according to a person's monetary value ("arachin"). What is the point of these weird laws, and why are they in such an awkward and anticlimactic location?

I think that beyond the technical details of these laws, there is a special symbolic meaning in their placement here, immediately after God has apparently finished giving us the Torah. It seems that these laws do not represent God's command, which has ended, but rather our response to that command. Similarly to "arachin", which are vows to give the Temple a sum equal to one's personal monetary value, here we voluntarily commit our "entire selves" to keeping the Torah whose presentation has just finished. And as with Temple property ("hekdesh") which cannot be put to any non-Temple use, having committed ourselves to a holy lifestyle, we recognize that the commitment is permanent and we can never back out.

The connection between these particular laws and the overall commitment you are making is not explicit, but if you think about it a little it is quite natural. In the previous chapter of blessings and curses, you had to listen to and absorb God's extended monologue. But religious life is not just about listening and absorbing. It is also about intuiting and creating. That is what you are called on to do in this chapter. The placement of these mitzvot is inexplicable until you put a little effort and creativity into teasing out and absorbing their symbolic meaning.

Sefer Vayikra has given us many chapters of precautions, warnings, and boundaries. But for every "shamor" there is a "zachor"; life must include initiative as well as precaution. The Mount Sinai experience began with the spontaneous commitment of "kol asher diber hashem naaseh", but after all the laws of Sefer Vayikra this attitude could easily have be forgotten. As the Israelites prepared in Sefer Bamidbar to conquer the land, they had to internalize that it is religiously appropriate to act as well as to refrain from acting. And after we modern Jews have spent two months reading Sefer Vayikra, which more than in Biblical times seems to be empty of practical significance, we must nevertheless enhance the vitality of our spiritual lives in preparation for whatever challenges await us today.

Thoughts on Acharei Mot-Kedoshim

Why exactly does the Torah forbid sexual actions such as incest? R' Elchanan Samet explains (near the bottom) that the sexual prohibitions are necessary in order to preserve the correct relations between different members of the family. If you are allowed to look at your family members as sexual objects, you may be unable to deal with them in the proper manner (as mothers or sisters or whatever). When the sexual option is made impossible, you are forced to respect them and relate to them as the close relatives, loved and respected, which they are. Eliminating the sexual option with these people thus makes possible a whole range of valuable and necessary family relationships.

I cannot decide to my own satisfaction whether or not this argument is correct. (For one thing, the punishment of death and/or extirpation seem pretty serious for a purely utilitarian law, though there are parallels such as the punishment for cursing parents.) If true, however, it would go a long way towards solving the anomalies of this part of Sefer Vayikra, as can be seen in the following examples.

1) The most striking difficulty with the sexual prohibition passages is that they include several non-sexual prohibitions. Right in the middle of chapter 18 is a commandment not to deliver your son to the "Molech" (18:21). In chapter 20 the Molech prohibition appears again (20:2-5), and there is a double prohibition (20:6 and 20:27) against consulting an "Ov or Yidoni" (i.e. magical communication with the dead). What are these non-sexual crimes doing right in the middle of the sexual crime laws?

The obvious halachic problem with Molech worship, and I believe also with Ov/Yidoni, is that they are idolatrous. But among the types of idolatry mentioned in the Torah, these seem to be unique in that they involve members of your family. Molech worship obvious involves your son, and Ov/Yidoni presumably focuses on your ancestors. In this they are similar to the sexual crimes, which also involve your family.

Assuming as before that the purpose of the sexual prohibitions is to protect the family, it is easy to see why Molech worship is included with the sexual sins. Killing children on a routine basis is, after all, quite damaging - obviously for the children involved, and it probably leads to unhealthy attitudes towards the other children (you're next!) and towards other people in general. Just as a sexual relationship with your mother would prevent you from treating her as mothers deserve to be be treated, the possibility of child sacrifice might prevent you from treating your children with the attitude they require. Therefore both are forbidden in the same passage.

Similarly, I think we can explain why Ov/Yidoni is included with the sexual prohibitions, but first we must look at the final mention of Ov/Yidoni in our parsha.

2) The prohibition of Ov/Yidoni appears once again in close proximity to the sexual prohibitions (in the "kedoshim tihyu" section, verse 19:31). It is immediately followed there by the command to "rise before the aged, and honor the elderly" (19:32). The juxtaposition of these two laws seems odd, but there may be a deep connection between them.

The Ov/Yidoni is an attempt at communication with the dead, and the dead are simply elderly people who are so elderly that they have died. In general, we are commanded to respect and perhaps seek guidance from those people who have the wisdom of age, who bear the tradition, and who created us and supported us when we were younger. At the same time, we are equally commanded not to "pervert" this respect by apportioning it not to our elders, but to their elders who are no longer alive. If we do so, given the inherent meaningless of "communicating" with ghosts, then all the social benefits of respecting the aged are lost. Prohibiting Ov/Yidoni may therefore be a means of promoting the correct kind of relationship with our elders, while excluding self-serving "relationships" based on magical incantations and alleged paranormal instructions from above. This idea is supported by Devarim 18, which contrasts sorcery (including Ov/Yidoni) and true prophecy as possible sources of guidance.

If so, then it is easy to explain why Ov/Yidoni is included among the sexual laws. Just like the sexual prohibitions make it possible to have meaningful relationships with family members of the opposite sex, and the Molech prohibition helps preserve the correct attitude towards one's children, the prohibition of Ov/Yidoni promotes the proper attitudes one should have towards one's elders. Apparently no human relationship is danger-free, and for virtually every member of family and society there must be a law channeling your relationship with them in a constructive direction.

3) The lists of sexual prohibitions are very male-centric. Granted, a woman can figure out that "you shall not uncover your mother's nakedness" prevents her from consorting with her son. But in a literal sense, the prohibition is addressed only to the son. Assuming as before that the purpose of sexual laws is to protect meaningful relationships within the family, we can explain the focus on men in terms of what men and women tend to look for in sexual relationships. Men are more likely to pursue purely their lusts without making any emotional commitment; since these relationships are not stable or meaningful the Torah emphatically restricts them. But women tend to demand emotional commitment in any sexual relationship they enter. If it were up to the women, then even incestuous or unnatural relationships might not necessarily destroy the family. Thus, the prohibitions as a rule focus on men and not women.

4) This model also helps in explaining various notable details among the prohibitions. Don't put me down as having encouraged lesbian marriage, but it seems that the Torah does not prohibit it explicitly because it would be more likely than homosexual male marriage to lead to a stable and successful family structure.

5) More strikingly, exactly one prohibition (bestiality) is separately addressed to women, in both chapters 18 and 20. A woman might be inclined to form a meaningful relationship even with a family member, and thus does not need to be warned against meaningless sexual relations with him. But she certainly cannot form a meaningful relationship with an animal. In this one case, the woman as well as the man must be warned that the relationship is forbidden.

----

Nearly every line of this post includes a dash of conjecture, and I'm not absolutely convinced that any of it is correct. But it does seem to move a number of verses from the "totally inexplicable" to the "reasonable conjecture" category. That in itself is a reasonable accomplishment, even if final proof will have to wait until some other time.

Thoughts on Tazria-Metzora

1) I argued here that the excessive length given to describing the Mishkan is a necessary consequence of the attitude we should have towards it. As was pointed out in a comment, the same applies to the laws of sacrifices which are extensively discussed later on. But while this explanation works for the highly elaborated laws all the way through parshat Shemini, it seems to fail with the laws of leprosy.

I had to wait for an answer to this difficulty until the very end of this week's double parsha. The laws of bodily emissions end with the line "You shall separate the children of Israel from their impurity; that they die not in their impurity, by contaminating My tabernacle which is in their midst." (15:31) If there weren't enough hints already, this unambiguously confirms that a central purpose of impurity laws is to extend awareness of the Temple into our everyday lives. This being the case, it is reasonable for any law concerning impurity to include the detail one would expect from laws dealing with the Temple.

2) A number of sacrifices in Vayikra consist of two animals, one a "chatat" (sin-offering) and one an "olah" (entirely burnt offering). Why these two?

It seems that the "chatat" is functional. The only reason you are bringing a sacrifice in the first place is because you want expiation for a sin or for impurity. This function is accomplished, as would be expected, through the "chatat" or sin-offering.

But it is wrong to see the Temple as purely functional, like a supermarket where you go, do the necessary errands, and then leave. You must also see your visit as an encounter with God. And therefore one of your offerings must not be made with a specific purpose in mind, but simply as an indication that you are approaching God, a situation in which it's appropriate to bring an offering.

3) The strike continues, but I'm absolutely sick of it by now. My roommate says that four years ago, a similar strike lasted two months and an entire semester was lost. In any case, the strike on my blog (if it ever existed) is hereby declared to be over.

Thoughts on Vayikra

How pleasant it is to see order being made out of parshat Vayikra.

I.  KORBAN NEDAVA - Voluntary offerings
  A.  Ola  (entire korban burnt on the altar) (Chap. 1)
        1. 'bakar' - from cattle
        2. 'tzon' - from sheep
        3. 'of' - from fowl

  B.  Mincha (a flour offering) (Chapter 2)
        1. 'solet' - plain flour mixed with oil and 'levona'
        2. 'ma'afeh tanur' - baked in the oven
        3. 'al machvat' - on a griddle
        4. 'marcheshet' - on a pan (+ misc. general laws)
        5. 'bikkurim' - from wheat of the early harvest

  C.  Shlamim (peace offering, partly eaten by owners) (Chap. 3)
        1. bakar - from cattle
        2. tzon - from sheep
        3. 'ez' - from goats

    [Note the key phrase repeated many times in this unit:
               "isheh reiach nichoach l-Hashem."]

II.  KORBAN CHOVA - MANDATORY OFFERINGS
  A. * CHATAT  (4:1-5:13)
     1.  for a general transgression
                    [laws organized according to violator]
          a.  'par kohen mashiach' (High Priest) - a bull
          b.  'par he'elem davar' (bet din) - a bull
          c.  'se'ir nassi' (a king) - a male goat
          d.  'nefesh' (layman)  a female goat or female lamb
     2.  for specific transgressions ('oleh ve-yored')
          a.  a rich person - a female goat or lamb
          b.  a poor person - two birds
          c.  a very poor person - a plain flour offering

  B. * ASHAM (5:14-5:26) - animal is always an 'ayil' (ram)
          1. 'asham me'ilot' - taking from Temple property
          2. 'asham talui' - unsure if he sinned
          3. * 'asham gezeilot' - stealing from another

     [Note the key phrase repeated numerous times in this unit:
           "ve-chiper alav... ve-nislach lo."]

Now, a quick thought of my own. In category II/A/1, "chatat for general transgressions", there are four possibilities, depending on who is bringing the offering: priest, rabbi, king, or commoner.

These four categories have a parallel in a statement from Pirkei Avot (4:17):

"R' Shimon says: There are three crowns - the crown of Torah, the crown of priesthood, and the crown of royalty - and the crown of a good name is greater than [all of] them."

The four "chatat" categories correspond to the four crowns R' Shimon ends up mentioning. You might think that the first three crowns, since they seem to have all the glory as well as the biggest sacrifices, are the most important ones. But in fact, the crown of the "good name", which is accessible to all, is the most important. It appears more humble, but it in fact has greater significance than all the others.

Also...

The korban oleh veyored (5:1-13) is unique among the sin-offerings in that it requires confession (5:5). This offering was reserved for a special set of unintentional sins - failure to give testimony, false oaths, and some types of impurity. Why does only this sacrifice require confession and not the others?

Based solely on these verses (ignoring later halachic developments which I don't have time to look up) it seems that this confession was not part of the repentance process. Rather, it had the practical purpose of protecting people from the consequences of the sin. False oaths, ungiven testimony, and impurity all potentially affect other people, and the sinner was required to rectify this damage before offering the sacrifice. This is similar to the person who stole (5:20-26) who had to return the stolen item before bringing a sin-offering.

It seems that the confession we do as part of the repentance process is a separate issue. In practice, then, for these sins you'd have "confess" (or "admit" to the sin) twice. Once to God, and once to the people you may have hurt.