Lemech's song

In Breishit 4:23-24, Lemech (the descendant of Kayin) recites the following poem:

וַיֹּאמֶר לֶמֶךְ לְנָשָׁיו:
"עָדָה וְצִלָּה שְׁמַעַן קוֹלִי, נְשֵׁי לֶמֶךְ הַאְזֵנָּה אִמְרָתִי
כִּי אִישׁ הָרַגְתִּי לְפִצְעִי, וְיֶלֶד לְחַבֻּרָתִי
כִּי שִׁבְעָתַיִם יֻקַּם קָיִן, וְלֶמֶךְ שִׁבְעִים וְשִׁבְעָה."

What does this poem mean? What does Lemech intend to say, why does he intend to say it, and why is it included in the Torah?

Let us begin analyzing the poem by breaking it down into three lines:
1 - The introduction, calling on Lemech's wives
2 - The line about killing a man and child
3 - The line about vengeance

The most ambiguous line of the three is #2, and I purposefully did not punctuate it above so as to preserve the ambiguity. Essentially, there are two ways of reading it. Either it is a statement:

"For I have killed a man over my injury, and a child over my wound."

Or else, it is a rhetorical question from someone who has not killed:

"Have I killed a man over my injury, or a child over my wound?"

I think the best way to approach this ambiguity is by asking of Lemech was a good or bad person. If he was a good person, then most likely the question is rhetorical, and Lemech has not killed (though some commentators suggest that he had killed unintentionally and wanted to protest his innocence of murder). In the "good Lemech" case, the vengeance in #3 must be God's vengeance against whoever would harm Lemech.

The alternative is to say that Lemech was a bad (or at least violent) person. He is stating for a fact that he had killed. In that case, the vengeance is carried out by Lemech himself against whoever would attempt to harm Lemech.

My difficulty with the "good Lemech" interpretation is that nowhere do we hear that God has promised vengeance upon those who attack Lemech. You would think that this promise should be mentioned in the Torah, so that we know what Lemech is talking about. Since no such story exists, I prefer the "bad Lemech" interpretation in which Lemech promise that he himself will carry out the vengeance.

In that case, line #2 should be translated as follows: "For I have killed a man over my injury, and a child over my wound." This killing is disproportionate: Lemech received a non-fatal wound, and in return he inflicts a fatal injury. That's not very moral, but it does fit perfectly the claim in line #3 that Lemech will take 77-fold vengeance. R' Yaakov Medan, in his book "Ki Karov Elecha", goes further and explains the likely details of Lemech's killing: he killed a "man" and a "child", a man because that man wounded him, and a child (the same man's child) because the most total revenge against someone is to kill them and all their offspring!

So now we have a coherent explanation of everything in lines #2 and #3. What about #1? Why does this story have to be told to Lemech's wives?

Perhaps we can draw an answer from the fact that there are TWO wives. Having multiple wives is not a recipe for happiness in the Torah. In halacha, each wife is known as the "tzara" of the other, due to the hostility they are presumed to have for each other as they vie for their husband's affection. And not only do they fight with each other, but their struggles are likely to spill over and disturb the husband's life. Avraham was forced to part forever from his son Yishmael due to his wives' rivalry, David and Shlomo each suffered incredibly due to their later wives (Batsheva and Shlomo's foreign wives), and even someone as highly regarded as Yaakov Avinu was brought to rage by one of his wives' complaints (Breishit 30:2). We already know Lemech was a over-reacting violent man, and with the extra stress caused by his bigamy, we can imagine this was not a peaceful household.

Perhaps, given this situation, we can explain why Lemech chose to give this speech to his wives. Perhaps there had been one fight too many in the household, and Lemech had had enough. He knew only one way of solving conflicts, and that was to utterly destroy the other side. Thus, in this poem, he threatened that if one of his wives went a bit too far in the future, he would kill her. Given Lemech's past, this would not be an idle threat. And since Lemech had TWO wives, killing one of them might not be an overwhelming blow to him, as he would still have the other. If this idea is correct, then here we have the first and perhaps the only mention in the Torah of marital violence.

Lemech's poem is the last word in the story of Kayin's descendants: the next verse (4:25) tells of the birth of Shet, who would eventually become the ancestor of Noach. In some ways Lemech's life could be seen as a success: his three sons go on to found the disciplines of herding, music, and forging (4:20-22). As with Joseph Kennedy, whose children included a president and two senators, one has to suspect that such accomplished kids owe something to the parents. But Lemech was a violent, vindicative man - not only to strangers but, it seems likely, even to his own wives. That quality is the "death sentence" for Lemech. Once the Torah attests to his negative character traits, it immediately and permanently abandons him, turning its attention to the family which will in part survive the flood.

Naaseh Venishma

According to the famous midrash (Shabbat 88a) on the words "naaseh venishma" (Shemot 24:7), the Jewish people first agreed to accept the Torah unconditionally, without understanding or judging its contents ("we will do"), and only then seeked to understand it ("we will hear").

This is not the simple meaning of the words. They should be translated as "we will do and we will obey" rather than "we will do and we will hear". The same Biblical Hebrew word is used for "listen" and "obey"; the modern Hebrew word for "obey" is simply the Aramaic translation of the Hebrew word for "listen". So the idea of unconditional acceptance does not really have a source in Shemot 24:7.

In fact, one might even argue that the opposite is implied. The entire verse reads as follows: "[Moshe] took the scroll of the covenant, and read it to the people, and they said: Everything Hashem spoke, we will do and we will obey." They people declare their acceptance after hearing what is in the scroll, not before.

So if "we will do and we will hear" is not the simple meaning of this verse, what on earth is the midrash talking about?

One might say that the midrash's idea must be true on a philosophical level - perhaps your commitments can only be meaningful if you make them unconditionally, and intend to hold to them in good or bad times, without considering if at some point in the future it will be advantageous to you to betray them.

But beyond this general idea, I think we can locate many specific verses in the Torah that make the same point.

There are a number of sections in the Torah where a mitzvah or category of mitzvot is presented in detail. In addition to all the details, there are often a couple verses which summarize the section, including either a brief summary of the laws, or else an explanation of the effects and importance of keeping them. Interestingly, this summary appears not at the beginning of the section (where you might expect it), but rather, almost universally at the END of the section. Here are a number of examples:

• The Mishkan: In addition to the details of HOW to build the Mishkan, the reason WHY we build it is so that God may dwell among us. This is mentioned briefly at the beginning of the long Mishkan passage, but more fully explained near the end (why it's not at the absolute end is the subject of another essay).
  
• Kosher animals: This passage has no special beginning. Rather, the passage immediately starts by listing kosher and non-kosher animals. The passage ends with a "why" explanation for the laws of kashrut: "be holy for I am holy", and therefore, do not eat anything impure.
  
• Tzaraat: This passage has no special beginning (the first paragraph is just one type of tzaraat). The passage ends with a summary of the types of tzaraat, which is introduced by the formal heading "zot torat hatzaraat".
  
• Bodily emissions: This section too begins with specific cases rather than a special beginning. It ends with both a "zot torat ___" summary, as well as a "why" explanation (that Jews not "defile My tabernacle").
  
• Sexual sins: The beginning here is somewhat unusual in that it starts with the generalization of not doing "the practice of the land of Egypt/Canaan" - the kind of broad explanation I'd expect to find at the end. However, the end is more involved, repeating this generalization and adding both individual and collective punishments.
  
• Sotah: This passage has no special beginning. The end is a "zot torat ___" summary.
  
• Vows: This passage has no special beginning. The end has a summary of the laws.
  

(At the end of this post, you can find a table including the various verses for each of these laws, to give a clearer picture of what I'm referring to.) We see that, repeatedly, the summaries and philosophical content of a section come at the end of the section, not the beginning. Normally we expect the opposite: the broad explanations should come at the beginning of the passage, so you are clear about what you are about to learn and why. But the Torah chooses a different way; it mostly withholds the explanations until you are done learning all the laws. Why does the Torah do this? I think it is due to the idea of "naaseh venishma". In all these passages, the Torah wants you to learn and accept the laws WITHOUT necessarily having a clear picture of what their purpose is. You must be willing to obey even if you don't understand. Once you have done that, you can then be taught the ideas that will give you understanding and a broader picture. This is what the midrash says; earlier we suggested the same thing for philosophical reasons; and now I think we see the same idea built into the structure of the Torah's commandments. It has been said that the midrash on a verse is not the simple meaning of that verse. Rather, it is often the simple meaning of a DIFFERENT verse or verses. I think the midrash of "naaseh venishma" is a good example of this. As I argued at the beginning of this essay, this midrash is not actually the meaning of the words "naaseh venishma". But as I argued at the end of the essay, it IS the meaning which can be found in a number of other passages in the Torah.

The Mishkan	Begins with "Speak to the children of Israel, that they take for Me an offering ... This is the offering which ye shall take of them: gold, and silver, and brass..." (Shemot 25:2). This is soon followed by a basic description of the purpose of the Mishkan: "And let them make Me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them." (25:8)
	But the full description of the Mishkan's purpose only appears near the end of the passage: "And I will dwell among the children of Israel, and will be their God. And they shall know that I am Hashem their God, who brought them forth out of the land of Egypt, that I may dwell among them." (29:45-46)
Kosher animals	Begins with "These are the living things which ye may eat among all the beasts that are on the earth. Whatever parts the hoof, and is wholly cloven-footed..." (Vayikra 11:2)
	Ends with "You shall not soil yourself with any swarming thing, nor impurify yourselves with them, and become impurified thereby. For I am Hashem your God; so sanctify yourselves and be holy, for I am holy; and do not defile yourselves with any swarming thing which moves upon the earth. For I am the LORD that brought you up out of the land of Egypt, to be your God; ye shall therefore be holy, for I am holy." (11:43-45)
Tzaraat:	Begins with "Should a man have in the skin of his flesh a rising, or a scab, or a bright spot, and it is the plague of leprosy in the skin of his flesh, then he shall be brought to Aaron the priest..." (13:2)
	Ends with "This is the law for all manner of plague of leprosy, and for a scall; and for the leprosy of a garment, and for a house; and for a rising, and for a scab, and for a bright spot; to teach when it is unclean, and when it is clean; this is the law of leprosy." (14:55-57)
Bodily emissions:	Begins with "When any man hath an emission [zav] out of his flesh, his emission is unclean." (15:2)
	Ends with "Thus shall ye separate the children of Israel from their uncleanness; that they die not in their uncleanness, when they defile My tabernacle that is in their midst. This is the law of he who has an emission; and of he from whom semen goes out, making him impure; and of her who is sick with her impurity, and of them that have an emission, whether it be a man or woman; and of he who lies with an impure woman." (15:31-33)
Sexual sins:	Begins with "You shall not do according to the practice of the land of Egypt where you dwelt, nor according to the practice of the land of Canaan where I bring you... You shall keep my statutes and ordinances, which man keeps and thereby lives, I am Hashem." (18:3-5)
	Ends with "So you shall keep My statutes and ordinances, and not do any of these abominations; neither the native nor the stranger living among you - for all these abominations did the men of the land that were before you, and the land was defiled - that the land not vomit you out also, when ye defile it, as it vomited out the nation that was before you. For whoever does any of these abominations, the souls that do them shall be cut off from among their people. Therefore you shall keep My charge, that ye do not any of these abominable customs, which were done before you, and that ye defile not yourselves therein: I am Hashem your God." (18:26-30)
Sotah:	Begins with "Speak unto the children of Israel, and say unto them: If any man's wife go aside, and act unfaithfully against him... " (Bamidbar 5:12)
	Ends with "This is the law of jealousy, when a wife, being under her husband, strays and is defiled; ... then shall he set the woman before Hashem, and the priest shall execute upon her all this law. And the man shall be clear from iniquity, and that woman shall bear her iniquity." (5:29-31)
Vows:	Begins with "This is the matter which Hashem has commanded. When a man makes a vow to Hashem..." (30:2-3)
	Ends with "These are the statutes, which Hashem commanded Moshe, between a man and his wife, between a father and his daughter, being in her youth, in her father's house." (30:17)

Fixed or personalized vidui?

Here is an argument for not saying the long text of vidui that appears in Yom Kippur machzorim. In the following comment (also posted there), I argued that the accepted text should be said (in addition to any additions that are appropriate for an individual, like the page argued. Here are my reasons:

ברור שוידוי אישי מאוד חשוב, והמחשבה שנדרשת כדי להכין וידוי אישי היא אולי החלק המרכזי של התשובה. בכל זאת, נדמה לי שיש ערך בוידוי המודפס גם מעבר למה שאמרת. יותר מפעם אחת, לפני יום כיפור עזרתי בוידוי המודפס כדי להדריך את התשובה שלי. חשבתי לעצמי, "מתי בשנה האחרונה בגדתי במישהו? מתי עשיתי משהו שיכול להיחשב לגזילה? מתי דיברתי דופי?" ומתוך כל הזויות האלו נזכרתי בהרבה חטאים שבכלל שכחתי קודם לזה, וגם הוספתי כמה ביטויים לוידוי האישי שלי בתפילות יוה"כ על בסיס אותם תובנות. זה קצת דומה למה שקורה בתפילה - אם במקרה לא היה איכפת לי מאנשים חולים, ברכת "רפאנו" מזכיר לי שצריך להיות איכפת לי. אם לא ציפיתי מספיק לבניית בית המקדש, ברכת "רצה" מזכיר לי שזה צריך להיות חשוב לי. עובדה שאנחנו לא תמיד זוכרים את כל מה שכדאי לנו לומר בתפילה ובוידוי, והטקסט המקובל עוזר לנו לזכור.

עוד סיבה שהוידוי המודפס חשוב, נדמה לי שאפשר לראות בסוג בחטאים שהוא מפרט. זה מעניין שוידוי המודפס כוללת בעיקר חטאים בין אדם למקום, והוידוי המורחב שרואים לפעמים בצילומים כוללת בעיקר חטאים בין אדם למקום. למשל, ל"בגדתי" מוסיפים "ביטלתי תורה, בירכתי לבטלה". אני לא רוצה להגיד שבין אדם למקום יותר או פחות חשוב מבין אדם לחברו, אבל נדמה לי שיש משהו מופלא כשמחברים בין השנים, בזה שגם חטא בין אדם לחברו צריך וידוי לה'. ייתכן שהחיבור הזה הוא אפילו אחד הדברים מייחד את היהדות משאר דתות העולם. וחבל להפסיד את זה.

סוף סוף, כל הרבנים ששמעתי ממליצים להוסיף משהו אישי לוידוי, ולא שמעתי רב (חוץ ממך אם אתה רב) שממליץ לדלג על המודפס. אזי אני מוסיף ולא מדלג, ומקווה שאני מרוויח מכל הבחינות.

Thoughts on Beshalach

Moshe said to them: "Let no person leave of it till the morning.' But they did not obey Moshe, and some of them left of it until the morning, and it bred worms, and rotted. (16:19-20)

Why did the manna have to spoil each morning? One reason is obvious. The manna was supplied was not just to keep the Jews from starving, but also to train them to depend on God: "[Hashem] fed you the manna, which you and your fathers did not know of, to show you that man does not live by bread alone, but by the decree of Hashem" (Devarim 8:3). Every morning the Jews woke up with an empty pantry and nothing to rely on but the promise that God would provide them with more food.

I think there is another possible reason, which we see by comparison to a completely different topic - korbanot.

For those Temple sacrifices which are eaten by human beings (as opposed to being burnt on the altar), the eating must be done within a certain period of time (see Zevachim chapter 5). For a few sacrifices, this period is two days and one night (i.e. the remainder of the day on which it is sacrificed, plus 24 hours, until sundown). For all other sacrifices, the period is one day and one night. This means that the sacrifice must be entirely consumed by daybreak after it is sacrificed. The Torah warns us a number of times not to leave sacrificial meat "until morning" - in Shemot 12:10, Vayikra 7:16 and 22:30, Bamidbar 9:12, and Devarim 16:4, regarding different types of sacrifice.

Just as sacrifices must be eaten by morning, so too manna, and perhaps this hints at a deeper similarity between them.

A second similarity between manna and sacrifices appears if we look at Shabbat. As we know, a double portion of manna fell before Shabbat and none on Shabbat. (This is commemorated in our modern double challah bread on Shabbat.) Similarly, the Shabbat musaf offering is virtually identical to the daily tamid offering - two sheep and two tenth-eifah mincha offerings. This means that overall, double as many sacrifices are offered on Shabbat as on weekdays. This double sacrifice is parallel to the double manna associated with Shabbat.

A third commonality between manna and sacrifices is the focus of their location. A jug of manna was to be placed "before Hashem, as a remembrance, for your generations", next to the ark in the Mishkan (Shemot 16:33). This parallels the many sacrifices which were to be brought "before Hashem" in the Temple, and especially the lechem hapanim, another kind of bread which was to be placed "before Me, forever" (Shemot 25:30)

The upshot of all of this is that it's possible to see the eating of manna as a parallel to the eating of sacrifices. Perhaps living in the desert was like a perpetual visit to the Temple, and eating the desert food was like a perpetual sacrificial occasion.

Moshe built an altar, and named it Hashem-Nissi. And he said: "A hand upon the throne of Hashem: there will be war to Hashem with Amalek from generation to generation." (17:15-16)

Two questions arise when reading the lines. 1) Who is "he" who spoke, Moshe or God? 2) What does the phrase "a hand upon the throne of Hashem" mean?

All the standard commentators say that the raising of a hand indicates the making of an oath, and so God is promising that He will wage war against Amalek. I agree that an oath is being made here. But I would like to suggest that perhaps it is Moshe, not God, who is speaking and making that oath.

There is one other occasion in the Torah when someone places their hand on a chair:

"Avraham said to his servant, the elder of his house, who ruled over all that he had: 'Please place your hand under my thigh.' " (Breishit 24:2)

When a person is standing, there is no "underneath" their thigh. So Avraham must have been sitting at the time. He asked his servant to place a hand between Avraham's thigh and the chair, below the thigh and above the chair. This is exactly the gesture we have in Shemot - a hand is placed on a chair (or throne).

Who made the oath in Breishit? The servant, who swore to his master Avraham that he would not marry Yitzchak to a Canaanite. The physical gesture of a hand under the thigh is suggestive of the servant-master relationship: to put your hand in such a position, you must crouch or bow down, making yourself literally subordinate to your master, reflecting your social role. You accept the master's authority over you, and the promises you make to the master become binding commitments you must fulfill.

(This is the pshat, while the midrash says that the servant held Avraham's brit milah. This is a very perceptive interpretation. It highlights the oath and the role of Yitzchak both regarding brit milah and here: there God says that the covenant will be perpetuated through Yitzchak; here Avraham moves to ensure that Yitzchak's role in the covenant is upheld. The ideas of brit milah were probably on Avraham's mind when he beswore his servant - that's what we can learn from the midrash. But we should not think that the servant's hand was literally on Avraham's brit milah, since we have a good explanation that does not require adding extra details to the story.)

In Shemot, we have the same gesture of a hand being placed on a chair (metaphorically, since God and His throne are not physical), and I would like to interpret it the same way. Clearly God is the master and Moshe is the subordinate. That means Moshe, not God, is making the oath! Why does Moshe do this? He has just been saved by God from the attacking Amalekites, and like any good Biblical figure who has just been saved, he builds an altar and swears loyalty to God from then on.

What about the contents of the oath? The phrase "milchama lahashem ba'amalek" is normally translated as "God will be at war against Amalek", indicating that God made the oath. Were we to take the phrase in a vacuum, I think this would be the simplest meaning, and this also has the best continuity with the previous verse.

I have two responses to this claim: 1) The phrase "milchama lahashem ba'amalek" could be translated as "There will be a war dedicated to God (=a holy war) against Amalek", with the war conducted by Israel. 2) Moshe could be pledging his loyalty to God, as a response to the promise God just made regarding Amalek.

Given how confident I am about the throne metaphor, I think one of these two approaches is preferable, even they make the phrase "milchama lahashem ba'amalek" seem more awkward in isolation.

What about the identity of the speaker in the phrase "And he said"? This phrase too is ambiguous. The commentators would say that "he" refers to Hashem from "Hashem-Nissi" in the previous verse, even though this is a proper noun and Hashem doesn't do anything active in that verse. Whereas I would say that since the previous verse spoke of Moshe building an altar, this verse speaks of Moshe making an oath.

Shabbat Yom Kippur

From Breishit Rabbah (22:13):
"And Cain went out from before God" (Genesis 4:16) - R' Hama in the name of R' Hanina son of R' Yitzchak said: [Cain] went out happy ... Adam ran into him and said to him: "What was your judgment?" [Cain] said: "I repented and [my punishment] was commuted." Adam slapped himself in the face, and said: "Such is the power of repentance, and I did not know it?" Immediately Adam stood and recited: "A song of praise for the Sabbath day: It is good 'lehodot' [=to thank or to confess to] God..." (Psalms 92)

Why does Adam's song refer to the Sabbath day? Because as the rabbis say elsewhere, not only was Adam created on the sixth day, but he sinned on the very day he was created. He could have immediately repented and entered Shabbat purified from his sin. Adam missed this initial opportunity. But once he learned about repentance, he took himself back to the moment of his sin and welcomed Shabbat while repenting.

This midrash seems especially appropriate as we enter the Shabbat of Yom Kippur. Not only is it the special day of atonement for the Jewish people, but it commemorates the occasion on which all of humanity learned about repentance and forgiveness.

Thoughts on Shoftim

When you go forth to battle against your enemies, and see horses, chariots, and people more numerous than you, you shall not fear them; for Hashem your God is with you, who brought you up from the land of Egypt. And when you approach the battle, the priest shall approach and speak to the people and say to them: "Hear, O Israel, this day you approach battle against your enemies. Let not your heart faint; fear not, nor be alarmed, or frightened by them, for it is Hashem your God who goes with you, to fight for you against your enemies, to save you." And the officers shall speak to the people, saying: 'What man is there that hath built a new house, and hath not dedicated it? let him go and return to his house, lest he die in the battle, and another man dedicate it...." (Devarim 20:1-5)

According to this passage, two things must be done before Israel fights a battle. The priest exhorts the people not to fear, and the officers tell several classes of people that they may return home without fighting.

Each of these things has its own logic, but what interests me now is the order in which they come. You would expect for the officers' dismissal to come before the priest's exhortation. After all, the best time to dismiss people from the army is when the army is being assembled, while the best time to give an inspiring speech is immediately before the battle. But as it is, the order is reversed. If you have a new wife, house, or vineyard, or if you are afraid, you must still join the army, and travel all the way to the battlefield, and hear the priest's speech before the battle, and only then can you go home. Wouldn't it be easier for such a person not to have to join the army in the first place?

I think that there is a lesson in this ordering, both for the soldiers in the Torah's battles, and for us today. There are people who have good reasons not to fight in battle. But this does not give them an excuse not to be part of the war. They must join the army, travel to the battlefield, experience the same tension everyone else experiences, and only then can they be sent home.

Similarly, certain Israelis today and all Jews abroad, who do not fight in the IDF, must nevertheless feel that they are part of the war, and look for tangible things they can do to help their relatives under fire. I am happy to report than, from what I have heard, in the recent Gaza war this is exactly what happened on a large scale.

The politics of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza

This is my summary of a shiur given by R' Yaakov Medan earlier this week in Jerusalem. The very last sentence is my own addition.

The well-known story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza (Gittin 55b-56a) goes as follows:

R. Johanan said: What is illustrative of the verse, Happy is the man that feareth alway, but he that hardeneth his heart shall fall into mischief? The destruction of Jerusalem came through a Kamza and a Bar Kamza; the destruction of Tur Malka came through a cock and a hen; the destruction of Bethar came through the shaft of a leather. The destruction of Jerusalem came through a Kamza and a Bar Kamza in this way. A certain man had a friend Kamza and an enemy Bar Kamza. He once made a party and said to his servant, Go and bring Kamza. The man went and brought Bar Kamza. When the man [who gave the party] found him there he said, See, you tell tales about me; what are you doing here? Get out. Said the other: Since I am here, let me stay, and I will pay you for whatever I eat and drink. He said, I won't. Then let me give you half the cost of the party. No, said the other. Then let me pay for the whole party. He still said, No, and he took him by the hand and put him out. Said the other, Since the Rabbis were sitting there and did not stop him, this shows that they agreed with him. I will go and inform against then, to the Government. He went and said to the Emperor, The Jews are rebelling against you. He said, How can I tell? He said to him: Send them an offering and see whether they will offer it [on the altar]. So he sent with him a fine calf. While on the way he made a blemish on its upper lip, or as some say on the white of its eye, in a place where we [Jews] count it a blemish but they do not. The Rabbis were inclined to offer it in order not to offend the Government. Said R. Zechariah b. Abkulas to them: People will say that blemished animals are offered on the altar. They then proposed to kill Bar Kamza so that he should not go and inform against them, but R. Zechariah b. Abkulas said to them, Is one who makes a blemish on consecrated animals to be put to death? R. Johanan thereupon remarked: Through the "anvatanut" of R. Zechariah b. Abkulas our House has been destroyed, our Temple burnt and we ourselves exiled from our land.

The beginning of the story (the meal) and end (the sacrifice) flow logically. But the segue between them is hard to understand. How is it possible that a random meal guest is able to show up at the king's door, and be taken seriously when he says the entire nation is rebelling?

R' Medan suggests a new approach to this story, beginning with a new interpretation of the word "anvatanut", usually translated as something like "humility".

Rashi on Brachot 9a explains that the "vatikin" who prayed early each morning were:

People with "anava", who loved mitzvot

If the two halves of Rashi's statement are related, than "anava" would seem to mean punctuality or enthusiasm for doing mitzvot in the best possible manner, not humility. [My addition: see Demai 6:7 where "tzanua" has the connotation of "machmir" - apparently, "frummies" who were known back then for cultivating modest character traits would also follow "machmir" rulings.]

We see a similar idea in the Tosefta (Shabbat 16:7) which discusses how to dispose of food waste after a Shabbat meal:

Beit Hillel says: One may pick up the bones and peels from the table. Beit Shammai says: One must remove the entire plate/tray and shake off its [muktzah] contents. Zecharia ben Avkilus did not practice like Beit Shammai or like Beit Hillel, but rather would take [an item of food to eat] and throw [its waste] behind the couch [so as not to have to remove muktzah items by any method later on]. R' Yosa said: R' Zecharia ben Avkilus' "anvatanut" is what burnt the Temple.

Here, R' Zecharia ben Avkilus and his "anvatanut" are characterized as extreme, unwarranted strictness with halacha.

Let us now look at Midrash Eicha Rabbati (on verse 4:2), which tells the Kamtza story again, and suggests another flaw of R' Zecharia ben Avkilus.

Once a man in Jerusalem made a meal. He said to his messenger: Bring me Kamtza my friend. He went and brought Kamtza his enemy. He entered and sat among the guests. [The host] entered and found him between the guests. He said to him "You are my enemy and you sit in my house, why? Get out of my house!" ... He took [Kamtza the enemy] in his hand and expelled him. R' Zecharia ben Avkulus was there and was capable of protesting but did not protest. He went out and thought "Since the aged rabbis were sitting there and did not object, they agreed with it." ... this is why it is said that the Temple was destroyed over Kamtza and Bar Kamtza. R' Yosef [=R' Yosa in the Tosefta] said: R' Zecharia ben Avkilus' "anvatanut" is what burnt the Temple.

This is basically the same story, told slightly differently. There is one addition of interest to us: the same R' Zecharia who refused to offer the sacrifice was responsible for precipitating the crisis by not protesting at the meal! But how can "anvatanut" refer both to this insensitivity and to the later halachic strictness?

Before answering this, let us look at a different paragraph in the same section of midrash.

Another interpretation: "The precious sons of Zion." ... What was their preciousness? One of them would not enter a meal unless he knew who was dining with him, who poured the wine, and who served the food."

This is a strange idea, but we find the same idea in the gemara (Sanhedrin 23a):

"Thus did those of clean mind in Jerusalem do: they would not sign a legal document unless they knew who was signing with them, they would not sit in judgment unless they knew who was sitting with them, and they would not go into a meal unless they knew who was eating with them."

It appears, from these sources, that was customary that guests would demand to know the entire guest list before coming! This shines an entirely different light on the Kamtza/Bar Kamtza story. People were very careful to never invite anyone who was not on an approved list. If a Bar Kamtza showed up uninvited, it's not at all surprising that he would be kicked out!

Why would people insist on knowing the name of every single person who attended a meal? Would you refuse to attend, say, a wedding, without first consulting the entire list of guests and waiters to see that every one of them was on your pre-approved list?

To answer this, let us remember that we are talking about the period immediately preceding the rebellion and destruction. Clearly, the political intrigues that would lead to the rebellion were already present. There were many spies around, and much suspicion and persecution. When wine goes in secrets come out, and for plotters, knowing every guest on the invite list was necessary for security. Also, it is quite reasonable to think that Bar Kamtza was just the sort of person who would be unwelcome in a feast of plotting rebels. Someone willing to betray his nation to the Romans after a personal insult at a meal was someone who probably not too loyal to begin with! As R' Yochanan said at the beginning of the story, "Happy is he who always fears" indeed!

The midrash fingers R' Zechariah as the rabbi most responsible for the expulsion of Bar Kamtza. If Bar Kamtza was a non-nationalist (willing to go straight to the Romans to avenge his insult) and his haters were nationalists, then perhaps R' Zechariah himself was a prominent nationalist. Let us now see what non-rabbinic sources may have to say about R' Zechariah.

Josephus (Wars of the Jews 4:4:1) writes the following about the zealots:

These leaders were Eleazar, the son of Simon, who seemed the most plausible man of them all, both in considering what was fit to be done, and in the execution of what he had determined upon, and Zacharias, the son of Amphikulus...

This name is very similar to R' Zecharia ben Avkulus, and some historians have asserted that they are the same person.

If so, R' Zecharia was not simply a modest, fearful man concerned primarily about the details of halacha. He was a polarizing zealot leader! No wonder he did not object to kicking out the unintended guest, who might have been a spy against the zealots. And no wonder he was not willing to compromise anything whatsover in the Temple service, even under extreme pressure.

Now, let us look about what Josephus says about how the revolt began (Wars 2:17:2).

At the same time Eleazar, the son of Ananias the high priest, a very bold youth, who was at that time governor of the temple, persuaded those that officiated in the Divine service to receive no gift or sacrifice for any foreigner. And this was the true beginning of our war with the Romans; for they rejected the sacrifice of Caesar on this account; and when many of the high priests and principal men besought them not to omit the sacrifice, which it was customary for them to offer for their princes, they would not be prevailed upon.

This account is very similar to that in the Kamtza story! In both, the Romans send an animal to the Temple to be sacrificed. In both, the Jewish leaders refuse to sacrifice it after extended arguments. In both, the Romans are provoked by this refusal and war ensues.

Of course, there are some differences. History writing in the ancient world was different from today. Nobody was looking over the historian's shoulder to see that everything was properly sourced and accurate. Rather, history was a form of what might be called "history art" where the details could be filled in as necessary. One famous example of this is the speech Josephus records as being given on Masada before the collective suicide. How could Josephus possibly know the text of this speech? If someone could bring Josephus back to life and ask him this, he would likely say - with justice - "I grew up with Elazar, I knew him well enough to know that this is what he would have said in that situation." Josephus did not know the exact words, but he was confident in his guess at the message. Similarly, Josephus filled in the gaps in the Jerusalem story as best he could. The essential story is the same as in the gemara (which testifies to the basic accuracy of both). But being in the Roman camp outside Jerusalem, and not knowing the details about Bar Kamtza, Josephus filled in other details about how the sacrifice came to be rejected.

In the gemara, the rabbis who R' Zechariah debated sound reasonable, while Bar Kamtza sounds like a spiteful traitor. But in Josephus' telling, the Jews who incited the sacrifice simply wanted to get rid of the zealots, not to destroy the Temple and the whole nation! The concrete facts are almost the same as in the gemara. But the tone and moral judgments are completely different. This reminds us of current events, where Haaretz and a right-wing paper might report almost the same events, but the presentation and conclusions to be drawn are near opposites.

The Torah tells us "You shall not bear tales ('rechil') among your people, you shall not stand by the blood of your fellow." (Vayikra 19:16) The two halves of this verse are likely connected. The tales in question may not be simple gossip about who got a bad haircut or woke up late for minyan, but the kind of betrayal to hostile authorities that can result in death [what was later known as "mesirah"]. And the word "rechil" may be linguistically related to "meragel", meaning to spy. Some sources say that "rechilut" or "lashon hara" was responsible for the destruction of the Temple (Yirmiyahu 9:3, Brachot 32b). If so, the kind of tale-bearing that is meant is the kind where people are being betrayed to the authorities.

We have now attributed clear political motivations to each side in the Kamtza story. Thus, it appears that the story is not "simply" an anecdote of baseless hatred. But while it is legitimate to have differences of political opinion, it is not legitimate to have so much mutual back-stabbing that members of your nation cannot even eat at a meal together. That degree of hatred leads to destruction and exile. Kamtza (who was welcome at the meal) and Bar Kamtza (who was unwelcome) represent the two political camps which showed so much hatred towards each other, and therefore the story is named after both of them.

David's messy psak

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Insects in Bamidbar

He sent messengers to Bilam son of Beor, to Petor which is on the river, where his people lives, to say to him: "Behold, this people which left Egypt has covered the eye of the earth, and it is now camped opposite me." (Bamidbar 22:5)

What is the meaning of the "eye of the earth" in this verse? Shemot 10:4-5 uses the phrase in a similar way:

"For if you [Pharaoh] refuse to let my people go, I shall bring tomorrow locusts in your borders. They will cover the eye of the earth, and it will be impossible to see the earth..."

In both places, Onkelus translates the phrase as "the eye of the sun of the earth", meaning the bright disc formed by the sun. In Shemot, the meaning of this is clear: the swarm of locusts will be so thick that it will cover the sun and there will be darkness. (Or perhaps, the locusts will both cover the sun and form a continuous layer on the surface of the ground.)

In Bamidbar, it seems that Israel too is being compared to a swarm of locusts, which devours the lands whose path it crosses, and looks ready to devour Balak's land and people too.

Interestingly, this is not the first place in Bamidbar where Jews are compared to locusts. When the spies returned from their trip, they reported: "There we saw the Nefilim sons of Anak (from the Nefilim), and we were in our eyes like locusts, and so were we in their eyes."

The spies saw themselves as small insects, incapable of conquering the mighty inhabitants of Canaan. But while the spies saw the locust as a weak animal, Balak saw the locust as an unstoppable and overpowering force! How could the same animal be used as a metaphor for completely opposite concepts?

The difference, of course, is that the spies referred to individual locusts, while Balak referred to an entire swarm. Indeed, while an individual locust is capable of little damage, a swarm of them is extremely formidable. Similarly, a single Israelite might be weaker than a single Anakite, but when the Israelites were united nobody could stop them from conquering the land.

How do we know that the spies should have realized this point, and didn't? After the spies spread their bad report and God decreed forty years of desert wandering upon them, the people rebelled and tried to invade Canaan immediately. When Moshe describes the results of this invasion in Devarim, he makes reference to a different kind of insect:

"The Amorite who lived on that mountain went out against you, and chased you as do the bees, and struck you down in Se'ir, as far as Hormah." (1:44)

Bees, like locusts, are individually weak but together form a fearsome swarm. Just like the Israelites' enemies knew the power that comes from unity, so should the Israelites have known.

(Based on a dvar torah from R' Shlomo Glicksberg)

Mutual love

The second blessing before kriyat Shema focuses on Torah study and observance. In the morning, we mention the Patriarchs to whom God "taught the laws of life", and then we ask that God "lead our hearts to understand, perceive, listen, learn, teach, guard, perform, and uphold all the words of this Torah". In the evening, we express our desire to "rejoice in the words of Your Torah and Your commandments forever, for they are our life and the length of our days, and we shall study them day and night." Virtually the entire blessing is on this topic, in both the morning and the evening.

The topic is a logical one. The Shema is one of the main sources for the mitzvah of Torah study; its reading is itself a performance of Torah study; and it is one of the most memorable passages on the topics of mitzvah observance and reward and punishment. Some sources suggest that this blessing functions as the usual blessing said before performance of a mitzvah (and therefore one should not speak between them and the Shema) - in which case they certainly must be on the same topic as the Shema.

But there is one main deviation from this topic - at the beginning and end of each blessing. There, rather than Torah study, the topic is love. The blessing starts by mentioning the "great love" or "eternal love" God has shown us, and ends by blessing God who "chooses Israel in love", or "loves His people Israel". Why mention love here?

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I think the answer lies in the second line of the Shema. "You shall love Hashem your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might." The first line of the Shema is a basic declaration of loyalty to God. Once that is accomplished, we list the things we must do for God - and the first of those to love.

The remaining things, of course, are all about Torah study - keeping the Torah in mind, reciting it, teaching it, speaking of it, placing reminders of it on our body and houses. The overall structure closely echoes the blessing recited before the Shema - there, too, the introduction is about love, and the body of the paragraph is about Torah study.

Of course, rather than the Shema echoing the blessing, it is the blessing which echoes the Shema, since the blessing was composed to accompany the Shema rather than vice versa.

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There is one difference though. The blessing talks Torah study plus about God's love for Israel. The Shema talks about Torah study plus Israel's love for God. Each contains love, but the direction of the love is reversed.

Here is one possible explanation of this difference. Tanach repeatedly likens the relationship between God and Israel to that between a husband and wife. Just as a successful marriage must involve mutual expression of love and commitment from both sides, so must God's relationship/covenant with the Jewish people. God showed us love in giving us the Torah; we show love by keeping it. In the Shema (which is God's words) He provides us with commandments through which we can merit reward and closeness to God; in the blessing (which is our words) we thank God for these commandments and express our wish that nothing ever prevent us from keeping them. Each party in the relationship mentions the love the other party shows them, and through this, the relationship between them is mutually strengthened.

Renamed Jerusalem streets

Here is an incomplete list of streets in Jerusalem that have been renamed at some point (mostly in 1948), followed by their original names.

I was planning on adding this to Wikipedia, but I don't see a good place for it.

Keren Hayesod - King George [1]
King David - Julian's Way [1]
King Solomon - St. Louis Way [1]
Shlomtzion - Princess Mary Ave [1]
Straus - Chancellor [1]
Agron - Mamilla Road [1]
Shivtei Yisrael - St Paul's Road [1]
Malchei Yisrael - Geula Road [2]
Herzog - Gaza Road [2]
Usishkin - Yehudah Halevi [3]
KK"L - Shmuel Hanagid [3]

[1] http://www.zionism-israel.com/ezine/Jerusalem_ben_yehuda_bombing.htm
[2] Collins & LaPierre, O Jerusalem, 1972
[3] http://www.haaretz.co.il/hasite/spages/907333.html

You have seen

Thus you shall say to the house of Jacob and tell the children of Israel: "You have seen what I did to Egypt, and how I lifted you up on wings of eagles, and brought you to Me." (19:4)

Thus you shall say to the children of Israel: "You have seen that I have spoken with you from heaven." (20:18)

The phrase "You have seen" used to begin a speech is quite rare in Tanach. Besides these two verses, it is used once each by Moshe and Yehoshua - each time to introduce a covenant with God made before their deaths - and once by Yirmiyahu. So its appearance twice in succession is somewhat striking.

The first instance (19:4) refers to the exodus from Egypt, and comes to introduce the revelation at Sinai.

The second instance (20:18) refers to the revelation at Sinai, and comes to introduce the commandments in parshat Mishpatim (and the last few verses of Yitro).

Seeing as two of the other three uses of this phrase introduce the making of covenants, it is not surprising that the same is true here. The revelation at Sinai is called a covenant (Devarim 5:2), and the commandments in Mishpatim are called "the book of the covenant" (Shemot 24:7).

Moreover, we learn that the events in question are not independent of each other, but rather form a linear progression. The exodus from Egypt created a sort of relationship between God and Israel. But it then had to be made explicit by the acceptance of the Ten Commandments. Even that was not enough, and the covenant had to be more fully fleshed out, with a long list of the laws we will keep, and the rewards we will get for it.

That's all I have to say about the similarity between these two phrases. Now, a few words on the difference between them, as interpreted by the midrash.

There is one noticeable difference: the audience. The first phrase is spoken to both "the house of Jacob" and "the children of Israel". The second is only spoken to the latter.

On a pshat level you might say that "the house of Jacob" and "the children of Israel" mean the same thing, and the first verse uses both for some stylistic reason, perhaps to provide extra formality. But the midrash cannot accept such a "fuzzy" answer. In midrash, every word of the verse should add something meaningful and definite.

So therefore, the midrash (quoted by Rashi) says that "the house of Jacob" means the women, and "the children of Israel" means the men. I had always thought this identification was for linguistic reasons: "bnei yisrael" can mean either "children" of Israel or simply "sons" of Israel, while "the house" is a place where women were likely to be found.

But now, we can add a structural reason for this identification. (Alas, you will see, it is no more politically correct than the linguistic one.) It stands to reason that women were equal participants in accepting the Ten Commandments and the basic commitment to Jewish faith. But since they are not commanded to learn Torah to the same extent as men, perhaps the numerous halachic details of parshat Mishpatim are not directly relevant to them. Therefore, the midrash may be thinking, women are mentioned as "the house of Jacob" in the introduction to the Ten Commandments, but not in the introduction to Mishpatim.

On choosing your wife

Yaakov and Moshe married country girls (shepherdesses). They ended up wandering around constantly for the rest of their lives.

Yitzchak married a city girl (Haran). He ended up living in one place for the rest of his life (the Negev).

In short: choose your wife carefully.

Thoughts on Shemot

[Moshe] went out the second day, and, behold, two Hebrew men were fighting together; and he said to the evil one/agressor: "Why are you hitting your fellow?" He said: "Who made you a ruler and a judge over us? Do you intend to kill me, like you killed the Egyptian?" (2:13-14)

According to the midrash quoted in Rashi, these two men were Datan and Aviram, later known to us from their rebellion in Sefer Bamidbar.

At first, this identification seems extremely arbitrary. Obviously the midrash likes to say that anonymous characters were actually individuals named elsewhere (the refugee who reported to Avraham was Og Melech Habashan; the "man" directing Yosef to Dotan was the angel Gavriel). But just because one pair of people appears here and another in Bamidbar, is that really enough to equate the pairs?

In fact, there is a quite interesting parallel between this story and what Datan and Aviram do later. Let's list the ways in which this episode parallels later events.

• One of the men here is called "evil", and the other may be too. Datan and Aviram were also an evil pair. (OK, this one is trivial.)
• The men question whether Moshe is their ruler and judge. Indeed, Moshe later became the ruler and judge of the Jewish people, and Datan and Aviram (among others) questioned this authority.
• The man accuses Moshe of wanting to kill him, just as he killed the Egyptian. This parallels the plagues (in which Moshe did indirectly kill many Egyptians), as well as the complaint of Datan and Aviram (and others) that Moshe intended to kill the Jewish people in the desert.
• Somebody tattled about Moshe's killing of the Egyptian, forcing Moshe to flee to Midian. This reminds me of the rebels against Moshe in the desert, who frequently employed slander in their cause. The most obvious example is the spies' description of the land. Also, Datan and Aviram accuse Moshe of "rul[ing] over" the people (Bamidbar 16:13). What exactly this implies is unclear, but Moshe's protest in the next verse ("I have not taken even one of their donkeys, nor have I done wrong to any of them") might mean that Datan/Aviram falsely accused him abusing power, by confiscating property from the people.

Out of these four parallels, the first one is pretty obvious. I think everyone gets it immediately, but also thinks it is insufficient basis for the midrash.

The remaining three are less obvious. But each one is an elegant comparison in its own way. Put them all together, and a clear thematic resonance is apparent. We'll never know if the two men were in fact Datan and Aviram. But we do know that this episode was similar to Datan and Aviram's story in many ways.

[See also Nedarim 64b which suggests a linguistic connection between "nitzim" (here) and "nitzavim" (Bamidbar 16:27). But I find it hard to believe this is the only source of the midrash.]

After these events

It came to pass after these events, that God tested Avraham, and said to him "Avraham", and he said "Here I am". (Breishit 22:1)

According to my hopefully complete search, the phrase "after these events" (אחר הדברים האלה or a variant) appears twelve times in Tanach (Breishit 15:1, 22:1, 22:20, 39:7, 40:1, 48:1, Yehoshua 24:29, Melachim Alef 13:33, 17:17, 21:1, Esther 3:1, Ezra 7:1). In general, its usage is pretty clear. It introduces an event that is not an obvious or immediate consequence of the previous event, but the two events fit together as part of the overall story arc. For example, after Avraham defeated the four great kings via a surprise ambush, God appeared to him to promise protection (15:1). And after Yosef became the leading slave in Potifar's household, Potifar's wife developed an attraction for him and propositioned him (39:7).

As I see it, there is only one case which seems to violate this pattern, and that is the first verse of the Akedah passage. Exactly which events before the Akedah is the verse referring to - events which should be somewhat distant in time, and nevertheless thematically connected?

Let's look at several of the stories that precede the Akedah, numbered by chapter, and see if they can explain this role. Our criteria should be that the story is close to the Akedah ("these events" would seem to refer to the immediately preceding events), and that the the Akedah has a logical connection to it.

18-19: Angels visit Avraham; then proceed to Sedom, rescue Lot, and destroy the cities.
20: Avimelech takes and returns Sarah
21a: Hagar and Yishmael are expelled
21b: Avraham and Avimelech make a treaty
22: Akedah

Chapter 21, story b

Rashbam discusses the phrase "after these events" here, taking the same basic approach that I do, and says that the event in question is 21b. Since Avraham had been promised the entire land of Israel, he should not have made a treaty that would effectively cede part of it to Avimelech's descendants. This was a sin, and the pain Avraham must have felt while preparing to sacrifice Yitzchak was the resulting punishment.

This is quite a good answer. It involves the immediately preceding event to the Akedah - a great advantage. It also explains well the delicate conditions in which the phrase "after these events" can be used - the events must be connected enough that they are linked, but not connected enough (temporally or naturally) that they are one story. But this answer is not perfect.

For one thing, it is not absolutely clear that the treaty was a sin. Avraham's inheritance was generations away (after a necessary exile). Who knew if Avimelech's descendants would still be around then, and even if they were, perhaps they could convert or otherwise integrate into the Jewish people.

For another thing, it's not at all clear that the Akedah was a punishment. Avraham's immediate suffering in the Akedah ended with a promise of great reward, a promise that presumably outweighed the suffering. If the Akedah as a whole was good for Avraham, how could it be a punishment? And why would he only receive the chance to merit the promise after sinning? Perhaps if the promise were simply a restoration of previous promises which had been nullified through Avraham's sin, but if so why does it go beyond them to swear (for the first time) that the promise would come true? And Avraham only suffered in the Akedah because he was willing to sacrifice his son - it seems awkward that if he rejected the command he wouldn't have suffered at all.

Also, if the Akedah were a punishment for 21b in particular, you might the Akedah to allude to 21b. But it contains no reference to the land, either in its command or in the eventual reward. The latter is striking especially because many other Patriarchal blessings do mention the land. This blessing promises Avraham numerous offspring (logical, since he showed his willingness to sacrifice his offspring), and adds that "all the nations of the earth shall be blessed through your offspring" - which if anything could be in the same spirit as the treaty with Avimelech.

These questions are not insoluble, but they do provide motivation to search for other possible answers.

Chapters 18,19,20

If I remember correctly, some sources (I don't remember which) say the Akedah is a punishment for chapter 20. The events in Avraham's life can be divided into the clearly moral and God-fearing, and the questionably so. In the latter category, chapter 20 is perhaps the most questionable. Avraham described Sarah as his sister, leading Avimelech to take or abduct her, even though he already knew (from Egypt) that this description could lead to tragedy. Avraham says he did this because "I said there was no fear of God in this place" (20:11), but this possibility is contradicted when God appears to Avimelech and "the people feared greatly" (20:8). There could certainly be a sin here. Whether it is a greater sin than 21b, or more thematically related to the Akedah, is up for debate. But textually, chapter 20 is much further from the Akedah than 21b, which makes it less likely, all things being equal. And if you don't think the Akedah is a punishment, you'd have problems with this explanation too.

I think Chapters 18 and 19, and likely any earlier chapter, can be excluded right off the bat. Textually they are very far from the Akedah, and there is no clear thematic connection - not even any obvious sins by Avraham whose punishment might not be immediate.

Chapter 21, story a - Rashi

First of all: While this story does not immediately precede the Akedah, there is a rather good basis for connecting it anyway. This is because story 21b opens with "And it was, AT THAT TIME" - indicating that 21a and 21b are roughly simultaneous, despite their unrelated subjects. This is further strengthened by the general way Breishit tells of Avraham's life, in which the subjects of stories tend to alternate - quite elegantly in my opinion - for example the two Avimelech stories which are separated by 21a. Similarly, the Akedah comes two stories after 21a.

Now to Rashi's opinion. Rashi, based on Chazal, identifies 21a as the "events" to which the Akedah is linked. He suggests two possible narratives for how this occured:

1) At Yitzchak's weaning party, Avraham ate and drank, but is not recorded as having offered to sacrifices to God (as sometimes happens in other festive meals in Tanach, like Shemot 18:12). The "accuser" (Satan) noted this apparent lacking, to which God responded that Avraham would even sacrifice Yitzchak, subject of the party, if asked.

2) Yishmael boasted that he was circumcised at age 13 - more painful than Yitzchak's circumcision as a baby. To which Yitzchak responded he would even sacrifice his entire body, if asked.

In each case, God/Yitzchak then had the chance to prove their statement, through the Akedah.

This avoids the possible difficulties in saying the Akedah was a punishment. Of course, it opens up new questions as to what the purpose of the Akedah was - but the philosophical issues involved are too broad for this post. In any case, Rashi's approach works fine as midrash - inventing events that are not in the text in order to enbody broader philosophical considerations. But because those events are not in the text, it suffers on the level of pshat.

Chapter 21 - my ideas

I was recently thinking about what "after these events" could refer to, and I came up with two more ideas, one from 21a and one from 21b. Whether they are more or less convincing than the above suggestions, readers can judge for themselves.

In 21a, Sarah insists on expelling Hagar and Yishmael. Avraham is unhappy at this, but God tells him to do so, and he obeys.

The Akedah opens with the command to sacrifice "your son, your only son". This description is much more true after Yishmael has been banished from Avraham's life - one would expect never to return. The Akedah happens after Yitzchak has effectively become the only son. Drawing a connection to that event emphasizes the difficulty of the Akedah. Not only is it more emotionally difficult to lose your "only" son, but a major philosophical challenge of the Akedah is highlighted: how can the "only" son be killed before begetting the great multitude that God promised through him?

In 21b, we see a different angle.

The two Avraham/Avimelech stories have similarities - for example, in each Avimelech is morally blameless despite having taken Avraham's wife or well. But the difference are more striking. When Avraham first met Avimelech, he was an insecure nomad who roamed from place to place, each time lying about Sarah to preserve his own life. Now, Avraham lives in one place for many years (21:34), and is so successful enough that Avimelech says "God is with you in everything you do" (21:22). Then, Avraham was a guest of Avimelech; now Avimelech travels to ask favors from Avraham. Then, Avimelech received prophecy and demonstrated fear of God; now God is with Avraham. Avraham has spent much of his life wandering and worrying. From now on, we will see, he lives in stability and material comfort. And after 21a, he finally has a son through Sarah. In 21b, it appears as if Avraham's difficulties in life are over, and God's hashgacha pratit over him can be taken for granted.

Perhaps it is appropriate that the Akedah command comes at this moment. The incongruity of the command - morally and emotionally - is highlighted by the circumstances Avraham reaches in 21b, which otherwise seem to be "happily ever after". If Avraham were suffering then we could see the Akedah as yet one more inexplicable example of "hester panim". Only when everything else seems to make sense can we be shocked by the one command that cannot be understood.

Greatness and the Evil Inclination

Abayei heard a certain man say to a certain woman: "Let us go on our way". [Abayei] said: I will go and prevent them from committing a sin [together]. He went after them three parasangs in the field [a long distance, to an isolated place]. When they parted from each other, he heard them saying "Our company is pleasant but the way is long." Abayei said: "If it were me, I could not have restrained myself." He went and leaned in anguish against a doorpost, until a certain elder came and taught: "The greater the man, the greater the Evil Inclination" (כל הגדול מחבירו יצרו גדול הימנו). (Sukkah 52a)

It is surprising to hear that a great Torah scholar like Abayei is more, not less, likely to commit a severe sexual sin than the man he followed. Isn't Torah study, and Torah commitment in general, supposed to refine your character? Doesn't the same page of gemara (52b) say that if you encounter the Evil Inclination, you should "drag it to the beit midrash" in order to overcome it?

Therefore, I wonder if the "greatness" which is said to augment your Evil Inclination is social rather than spiritual.

Spiritual leaders as diverse as King David, Martin Luther King, and Shlomo Carlebach have been known to commit serious sexual crimes. It is hard to see this a function of their spiritual inclinations, but easy to see it as a function of their being respected leaders. As talented charismatic high-status men, such leaders can easily meet, attract, and seduce many women. As holders of communal authority, they can arrange for their affairs to be discrete, and silence those who would publicize or punish their crimes later on. If an accusation is ever made against them, their word will be trusted over that of their accusers. We should hope that such leaders have fewer affairs than similar secular leaders (JFK and Clinton come to mind), but not be surprised if they have more affairs than the average religious man.

Abayei, too, was a respected leader. He was more capable of getting away with sexual crimes than was the average man. This would make his challenge harder than theirs, even if in other respects his character was as good as theirs or better.

Israel and Israeliness

וַיֹּאמֶר ה' אֶל-מֹשֶׁה: עֲלֵה אֶל הַר הָעֲבָרִים הַזֶּה, וּרְאֵה אֶת הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר נָתַתִּי לִבְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל. וְרָאִיתָה אֹתָהּ, וְנֶאֱסַפְתָּ אֶל עַמֶּיךָ גַּם אָתָּה, כַּאֲשֶׁר נֶאֱסַף אַהֲרֹן אָחִיךָ. כַּאֲשֶׁר מְרִיתֶם פִּי בְּמִדְבַּר צִן, בִּמְרִיבַת הָעֵדָה, לְהַקְדִּישֵׁנִי בַמַּיִם לְעֵינֵיהֶם: הֵם מֵי מְרִיבַת קָדֵשׁ מִדְבַּר צִן.
וַיְדַבֵּר מֹשֶׁה אֶל ה' לֵאמֹר: יִפְקֹד ה' אֱלֹהֵי הָרוּחֹת לְכָל בָּשָׂר, אִישׁ עַל הָעֵדָה. אֲשֶׁר יֵצֵא לִפְנֵיהֶם, וַאֲשֶׁר יָבֹא לִפְנֵיהֶם, וַאֲשֶׁר יוֹצִיאֵם, וַאֲשֶׁר יְבִיאֵם; וְלֹא תִהְיֶה עֲדַת ה', כַּצֹּאן אֲשֶׁר אֵין לָהֶם רֹעֶה.
(במדבר כז יב-יז)

The phrase "vaydaber hashem el moshe lemor" is common throughout the Torah. Here, I believe, is the only time we have the reverse phrasing: "vaydaber moshe el hashem lemor". This is noteworthy because "vaydaber" is generally understood to mean a harsh statement or a command (see for example Shemot 6:2 and Bamidbar 32:25-27). It makes sense for God to command human beings. But since when do human beings command God?

Let us explain this in terms of the larger context. Moshe's behavior is a perfect example of what we would now call Israeli chutzpah. He makes harsh demands of his superior - with the understanding that his proposals are for the good of the superior rather than himself, and that his honesty and directness indicate respect for a superior who is capable of accepting criticism.

As we see, Moshe was not permitted to enter the land of Israel. But perhaps, as a consolation prize, he was allowed to become an Israeli. :)

Rahav and Pesach

The following is so obvious that someone must have written it before, but a very cursory search did not find anything, so I decided to write it up myself too.

The haftarah for parshat Shelach tells of a successful spying mission - when two spies sent by Yehoshua infiltrated the city of Yericho, visited a woman named Rahav, and returned with the report that the conquest was inevitable.

In return for Rahav's help, she and her family were saved from the city's ensuing destruction. The circumstances of their protection are interesting:

• Rahav was to be saved, along with whatever family members were in her house. (2:18)
  
• If any of them left the house, they would be killed. (2:19)
  
• Rahav was to put a red thread on her window to signal that the inhabitants should be protected. (2:18)
  
• When the spies left Rahav, to avoid their pursuers, she advised them to head for the mountain and stay there for three days. (2:16)

These circumstances are extremely reminiscent of an earlier event - the Israelites' protection from the 10th plague in Egypt:

• The Israelites slaughtered the Pesach sacrifice - one per family. (Shemot 12:3)
  
• They were not to leave the house until the plague was over (12:22)
  
• They were to smear the (red) blood on the doorposts of their house to indicate they should be protected.
  
• The plague was punishment for Pharaoh's refusal to allow a three-day journey perform a sacrifice at "God's Mountain" (3:12)

Evidently, Rahav's procedure is supposed to suggest the Pesach sacrifice. In general, this sacrifice is a symbol of the national covenant as members of God's people (see i.e. Bamidbar 9:7, and the connection between Pesach and circumcision). With Rahav having performed a procedure so similar to korban pesach, it is no surprise Chazal say she converted to Judaism (and in fact married Yehoshua).

The place of brachot

In the Mishna, Masechet Brachot is placed in Zeraim. But in the Shulchan Aruch, it is grouped with Shabbat and the holidays in Orach Chaim.

This reflects a different perception as to the place of brachot in our life. Grouping brachot with the holidays indicates that saying a bracha is a discrete observance which must be performed on certain occasions. Periodically you must keep shabbat, but you also know that the rest of the week cannot be shabbat.

Meanwhile, grouping brachot with zeraim indicates that saying a bracha is part of our normal life. It is not that you interrupt your farming in order to perform a religious observance (as with shabbat), but that saying the bracha is part of the farming, and gives the farming a religious character.

As part of the inexorable shift of religious practices from "natural/moral" to "ritual" over time (as circumstances change and the original rationale is left behind), brachot have changed from a natural part of our self-expression (in the Mishna) to a technical procedure that must be executed on specific occasions (in the Tur and Shulchan Aruch).

May that change someday, somehow reverse itself.

(Source for the good parts of this)

Ach

"You shall celebrate on your holiday - you, your son, your daughter, your male and female slave, the Levite, the stranger, the orphan, and the widow that are within your gates. Seven days you shall have a holiday to Hashem your God in the place Hashem shall chose, Hashem your God having blessed you in all your produce and all your handiwork, and you shall be 'ach sameach' ". (Devarim 16:14-15)

The beginning and end of the above excerpt, which I have put in bold, form a popular song now sung on holidays. Of course, it is ironic what the song has done to the middle of the excerpt. The Torah made a point of INCLUDING the poor and marginalized members of society in our celebration, but the song jumps over those words, as if to EXCLUDE them! There is always the excuse that long lists of names have no rhythm and are hard to fit to a tune. Granted, but it is still quite striking how the point of the verse has been missed.

Anyway, let us switch from social to philological commentary. The verse ends with the cryptic phrase "vehayita ach sameach". What does this mean, and how does it differ from simply "vehayita sameach"?

Normally, the word "ach" means "but" - introducing a new phrase which qualifies or limits the previous phrase. Here, the word "ach" is not attached to any other phrase, but nevertheless, Chazal understood it to mean "but" in the since of limitation. Since it is never specified WHAT the limitation is, Chazal and later commentators provided a number of suggestions. Among them: 1) Shemini Atzeret may be limited in its degree of "simcha" relative to Sukkot (this assumes that the point of the verse "vehayita ach sameach" as a whole is to teach us that Shemini Atzeret also has a mitzvah of simcha). 2) Even a person without family must perform the mitzvah of simcha, though he cannot do so in the full sense described here (i.e. with sons and daughters). 3) Happiness in this world is limited, in contrast to the World to Come, where it will be unlimited.

Ramban, though, provides a completely different understanding of the phrase. In his commentary to Devarim, he suggests that "ach" is a short version of "achen", meaning "indeed". Thus the phrase means "you shall indeed be happy". It is not a limitation on the holiday happiness, but rather a intensification and expansion of the happiness. Quite the opposite of what Chazal said!

Which of these two contrasting understanding is correct? The advantages of each are clear. Chazal's understanding better fits with the normal meaning of the word "ach". But only Ramban's understanding allows for the sentence to be fully comprehensible and grammatical. Is there an possible understanding which combines both of these advantages - the comprehensibility and the correct usage of the word "ach"?

I think the answer to this question comes from another short and underrated word - "aval". The words "ach" and "aval" are both popularly understood to mean "but". But the word "aval" can also mean "indeed", as it does in Breishit 42:21. There, Yosef's brothers say to one another: "Indeed, we are guilty regarding our brother, in that we saw his distress when he begged us and we did not listen; surely his blood is now being avenged." It makes no sense for the "Indeed" at the beginning of the phrase to mean "but", since it does not come after any other phrase. However, in other places, including modern Hebrew, "aval" does mean "but".

We are forced then to say that "aval" can mean both "indeed" and "but". Perhaps, then, the same is true of "ach"? This allows for an elegant answer to our original question. Chazal are correct that "ach" usually means to take something away, while Ramban is right that in this instance we are commanded to "indeed" be happy.

Indeed (no pun intended), the use of one word for both "but" and "indeed" is not so strange. The roles of those two words in language are not in fact so different. Both typically come after a complete sentence, and add onto the sentence by emphasizing a previously ignored but quite relevant fact. With "but" the new fact serves to limit the previous sentence; with "indeed" it strengthens the previous sentence. This is a difference, but (no pun intended) the correct meaning of the two is easily inferred from context, so there is little confusion in using the same word for both.

Hopefully now we have solved the puzzle of the well-known phrase "vehayita ach sameach". And I'm sure you'll agree with me that my limiting myself to but two unintended puns in this post was impressive, indeed.