tikrivun eilei u’shemativ -- why Moshe did not have an answer for Bnos Tzelafchad

Rashi in Parshas Devarim (1:17) writes that because Moshe said to Bnei Yisrael that any problem too difficult for the judges that he appointed “tikrivun eilei u’shemativ,” should be brought to him and he will hear what Hashem has to say, he therefore was forced to acknowledge that he did not in fact know what the din was when the Bnos Tzelafchad came to him and it was through them that this parsha was revealed.

Sefas Emes asks: how could it be that Moshe Rabeinu, the biggest anav who ever lived, was guilty of outright boasting?

Even before we get to that question, we should first maybe ask whether “tikrivun eilei u’shemativ” is a boast at all. Moshe is not saying that he would know the answer – he is saying that he will listen, and Hashem will give answers. For this Moshe is punished?

In order to understand what Rashi is telling us, we need to take a broader look at what is going on in these parshiyos. The Netziv in his introduction to Sefer Bamidbar asks why it is that Chazal and the Geonim call this book Sefer Pekudim, the Book of Numbers ("counts" would probably be a better translation). Of all the episodes that occur in the sefer, why do Chazal focus on the count that opens the sefer and the count in our parsha, Pinchas, as capturing its essence? 

The Netziv answers that these two counts are emblematic of the dramatic shift that occurred between the first and the 40th year in the midbar. On the surface, we are dealing with two identical events – two tallies of Bnei Yisrael. Yet, there are marked differences between the two. To take one example, in the first count the Menashe-Ephraim-Binyamin group was led by Ephraim. In the second count, Menasheh is counted first. Netziv explains that during the first year in the desert, Bnei Yisrael’s needs were tended to miraculously by G-d. Therefore, Ephraim, the son of Yosef who devoted himself exclusively to Torah, is given primacy.  In year 40, at the threshold to entering Eretz Yisrael, Hashem was weaning Bnei Yisrael off of miracles and teaching them to fend for themselves. (Netziv develops this theme in his discussion of Mei Meriva and many other episodes in the latter half of the sefer.)   Their needs would have to be realized through their own work and efforts. Menasheh, the practical son who helped Yosef manage affairs of state, was now primary.

Sefas Emes similarly draws a distinction between the early travels in the desert, where Bnei Yisrael were led by Hashem's instructions as dictated to Moshe, is’arusa d’l’eila, and the final year, when things began to change. It was not Hashem dictating anymore -- people began to express their own thoughts and ideas of what should be done and how. Or, perhaps to put it better, Hashem allowed and encouraged people to express their own thoughts and ideas as way to achieve spiritual fulfillment -- isar’usa d’l’tatta. We see example after example of this: in next week’s parsha we will have the story of the tribes of Reuvain and Gad asking for land in Eiver haYarden. They were not content with being told where to settle and having a portion assigned to them by lottery – they wanted to determine their own fate. We will have the members of Menasheh causing new rules of who can marry whom be created based on their complaint that their tribe could potentially lose land if Bnos Tzelafchad marry into a different tribe. “Tzeror is haMidyanim v’hikisem osam” – it is not enough in year 40 to go to war for the sake of fulfilling G-d’s command, but war is now predicated on first feeling animosity for the enemy, on feeling that it’s *your* fight. The punishment of Zimri and Kuzbi is not dictated by Beis Din, but rather occurs because Pinchas could not restrain himself, kana’im pogim bo.  His zealousness drove the outcome; there was no formal psak din from a court.   Last but not least, we have the Bnos Tzelafchad, who, through their argument that they deserve nachalah, causes a new parsha to be revealed.

Sefas Emes explains that this is what Rashi is teaching us. Moshe was like a robot which cannot deviate from Hashem’s command. The Meshech Chochma in his intoduction to Shmos goes so far as to say he even lost bechirah. The Netziv sees Moshe’s leadership period as a constant experience l’ma’alah min ha’teva, i.e. events were controlled by Hashem’s direct intervention. “Tikrivun eilei u’shemativ” is not a boast, but rather simply a statement of fact.  While human intellect of beis din hits a brick wall and fail to come to a solution, Moshe can go l’ma’alah min ha’brick wall and hear Hashem’s answer directly.

But therein lies the rub. When the hanhaga of Bnei Yisrael switched from the domain of l’ma’alah min ha’teva to the domain of teva, from the domain of crises solved by Hashem’s intervention to crises being solved by man’s intervention, from the domain of answers being dictated by G-d to the domain of people being forced to grapple with issues and come up with the own solutions, that switch meant a move away from the domain of Moshe’s leadership to new leadership and new direction. Moshe not having an answer for the Bnos Tzelafchad is not a punishment for saying “tikrivun eilei u’shemativ,” but is simply a consequence. Precisely because Moshe was so close to Hashem and could utter those words with complete sincerity and humility meant he could not address the messy, unclear world of those who are not so close and must struggle to work things out themselves.

what do we expect kids to walk out of yeshivah knowing?

A follow up post on education:

We spend thousands of dollars and invest hundreds of hours of classroom instruction in educating our kids. After 12 or more years, what do we expect them to know? What are we getting for our money?

My question assumes that, like E.D. Hirsch argued, there is certain “core knowledge” that is essential. It’s not enough for students to have some vague set of skills or good “midos” or hashkafos. They need to have real facts and information at their fingertips.

Here is what I consider the bare minimum, at least for girls:

1) Knowing all of chumash with rashi;

2) Familiarity with the text all of all nevi’im rishonim and basic content of nevi’im achronim;

3) Knowing orach chaim halachos as found in Chayei Adam or Kitzur;

4) Understanding basic principles of belief (this point needs a post of its own to define better).

That’s it.

Sounds simple, but I challenge you to test your average Beis Ya’akov graduate and see if she has mastered the items on my list.  My own kids have gone to what is considered a more academic B.Y., one which comparatively speaking does provide a decent education, and they complain to me that I’m being unfair when I expect them to know a pasuk and Rashi that they never learned in school.

(If you think boys education is any better, you're kidding yourself. A kid can walk out of 12th grade knowing 60-70 blatt gemara (in some cases, ha’levai that much) and the reid a rebbe said over to them for 4 years and that’s it – no knowledge of navi, chumash, hashkafa (outside of mussar shmuzen), and a smattering of Mishnah Berurah at best. Of course you have boys who become masmidim and excel – but those are the ones who are above average. What about the guy in the second level shiur in MTA, in DRS, in Chofetz Chaim, NIRC, or YFR?  What do they really know after 12 years of school?)

What is worse than girls not having learned this stuff in school is the fact that they never given the message that they have to learn it on their own, not because of the mitzvah of talmud Torah (which of course does not apply to girls), and not because they will do some kind of aveirah if they don't know a Rashi somewhere in Sefer VaYika (a very unlikely prospect), but simply because how can you live as a thinking Jew, a Jew who wants to connect with Torah = with G-d, if you don't even know chumash and Rashi? 

I should get back to posting on Torah only topics before I get myself too worked up or into hot water  : )

an "educational strategy" that undermines getting an education

I want to offer a quick comment on the attempt to draw conclusions regarding “educational strategy” from the fact that a high percentage of BMG/Lakewood students who took the CPA exam passed on the first try.

I think this would be wrong for the simple reason that the ability to score a passing grade on an exam that measures ability in a narrow subject area has nothing to do with being educated.

Steven Pinker, writing in the New Republic, once described an educated person as follows:

I think we can be more specific. It seems to me that educated people should know something about the 13-billion-year prehistory of our species and the basic laws governing the physical and living world, including our bodies and brains. They should grasp the timeline of human history from the dawn of agriculture to the present. They should be exposed to the diversity of human cultures, and the major systems of belief and value with which they have made sense of their lives. They should know about the formative events in human history, including the blunders we can hope not to repeat. They should understand the principles behind democratic governance and the rule of law. They should know how to appreciate works of fiction and art as sources of aesthetic pleasure and as impetuses to reflect on the human condition.

On top of this knowledge, a liberal education should make certain habits of rationality second nature. Educated people should be able to express complex ideas in clear writing and speech. They should appreciate that objective knowledge is a precious commodity, and know how to distinguish vetted fact from superstition, rumor, and unexamined conventional wisdom. They should know how to reason logically and statistically, avoiding the fallacies and biases to which the untutored human mind is vulnerable. They should think causally rather than magically, and know what it takes to distinguish causation from correlation and coincidence. They should be acutely aware of human fallibility, most notably their own, and appreciate that people who disagree with them are not stupid or evil. Accordingly, they should appreciate the value of trying to change minds by persuasion rather than intimidation or demagoguery.

Rabbi Adlerstein on the Cross Currents blog asks, “Are some kids wasting years of time because they could learn material much more quickly when a bit older?” The answer is “yes” only if all you expect them to do is cram into their heads the necessary facts needed to pass a few courses and tests needed to obtain a job.  If you expect them to become educated along the lines of Pinker’s definition or anything close, then 2 years or even 20 years is barely enough time to make a start of it.

 

Sadly, the pervasive ads in community newspapers for post-seminary/yeshiva diploma mills that offer degrees that can be attained by combining CLEP tests, yeshiva credit, study at home courses, etc. all so that one can maximize one’s time doing other things prove that an “educational strategy” that de-emphasizes education is becoming the norm.  It's the equivalent of high school students who have goofed off for 4 years enrolling in a crash course before the SATs to bring up their score.  They are not getting 4 years of education in a few months -- they are getting test taking skills and strategies and certain key facts necessary to do well on a test. 

 

What I regard as a flaw others regard as a virtue.  Few people want an education -- they want a degree that ultimately leads to a well-paying job.  Let's not kid ourselves -- no one is learning in 2 years or 18 months what takes years of schooling to master.  They are simply cutting out the pretense of getting an education and getting a degree / profession instead. 

My wife reminded me that she once posted on this same topic and related the story that her grandfather, R' Dov Yehudah Shochet, one of the tamidim muvhakim of R' Yosef Leib Bloch, was given permission by R' Bloch to attend university on the condition that he immediately return to yeshiva in Telz when instructed.  When he was just short of finishing his degree, R' Bloch sent word that it was time for him to come back, and so he did (side lesson: that's real hisbatlus to one's rebbe).  When he asked R' Bloch why he called him just then to return, R' Bloch explained that he allowed him to go to university in order to get an education.  That he already had done -- the degree was just a piece of paper. 

Fast forward to our times v'na'hapoch hu -- the tables have been turned.

"l'hatoso ba" -- did G-d want to cause Bilam to go astray?!

Commenting on Hashem’s question to Bilam, “Mi ha’anashim ha’eileh imach?” Rashi writes, “l’hatoso ba,” Hashem caused Bilam to err. By asking such a question, G-d gave Bilam the impression that He is not all knowing. Bilam therefore thought that he could curse Bnei Yisrael without Hashem being aware and get away with it.

It sounds like Rashi is telling us that Hashem stacked the deck and set Bilam up for failure. “L’hatoso ba” doesn’t mean G-d was ambiguous and allowed Bilam to err. It means G-d deliberately wanted to cause Bilam to err. How could G-d do that? How is that fair? Since when does G-d want people to fail?

Secondly, Rashi’s comment here seems at odds with an earlier comment of his. Rashi (Braishis 3:9) comments that when G-d asked Adam, “Ayeka?” he did so in order to initiate conversation. It’s terrifying to be addressed by G-d, so G-d made it a little easier by opening the dialogue with some innocuous question. Why didn’t Rashi offer the same explanation for Hashem’s question here? (See Mizrachi)

R’ Chaim Hirschensohn in his Nimukei Rashi answers as follows: just as a chacham derives whatever he knows about G-d through his own thought process, the navi derives his perception of G-d through his neshoma. Knowledge of G-d is by definition subjective, as no human being can ever apprehend the objective reality of what G-d is. The brains or personality/neshoma of the individual becomes the prism through which everything is filtered. That’s why Chazal tell us that nevuah is given over only to someone who is wise, rich, happy, etc. -- in other words, a complete and fulfilled person, one who is not likely to distort or skew the message because of his own failures or biases.

That being said, sometimes an exception to the rule is called for. If there is a message that G-d wants to get out, even though the conduit does not measure up, he/she experiences nevuah. When Hashem “spoke” to Kayin right after he murdered Hevel, it’s not because Kayim was worthy of nevuah – it’s because Hashem needed to get a message to him. When Hashem gave nevuah to Bilam, it was not because Bilam met all the qualifications needed to deserve nevuah, but rather because at that time and place Hashem needed a navi la’goyim.

The downside to that happening is that just as the perfect navi interprets the experience of nevuah through the prism of his holy personality, the Bilams of the world interpret nevuah through the prism of their twisted personality.   To Adam haRishon, "Ayeka?" was an innocent question.  To Bilam, there was no such thing as an innocent question.  Since his own speech was filled with hidden meanings designed to deceive and conceal, he interpreted other's words -- even G-d's -- in the same way, and therefore assumed there was a message that was not there.

Of course, writes R' Hirschensohn, G-d did not come to trip up Bilam.  The subject of the verb "l'hatoso ba" is not G-d, but rather G-d's question, the words of nevuah.  What Rashi is telling us is that the simple question experienced prophetically that could have been understood differently was the cause of Bilam's downfall, as, when filtered through his debased heart, they led him astray.

the one thing that mattered most to Bilam

“Lo sa’or es ha’am ki baruch hu…” (22:12) Rashi comments that Hashem first told Bilam that he cannot curse  Bnei Yisrael, to which Bilam responded that that's no problem, he will go and bless them. Hashem answered that he shouldn’t do that either, as “bauch hu,” they are already blessed and don’t need Bilam’s brachos.

At first glance, it’s hard to understand Bilam’s thinking. He jumps from extreme to extreme, first expressing the desire to curse  Bnei Yisrael destroy them, and then, when that was not allowed, expressing a desire to bless them. Why would he want to give brachos to the same nation that a second ago he wanted to curse and destroy?

What the Torah is showing us is that only one thing really mattered to Bilam: being the center of attention. Curses, blessings, whatever – none of that really mattered.  Bilam was flexible when it came to ideology and principle. What he was not flexible on was missing out on having a starring role in whatever was happening.

dear Ramaz graduates...

From a petition:

Rabbi Lookstein, all the good work you’ve done in your life – everything you’ve done for your community, for the plight of Soviet Jews – will be flushed down the toilet for ten minutes on stage in Cleveland. This is the single action history will remember you by, and history will not be kind.

Dear Ramaz Graduates,
 
I originally was going to begin this post by saying that this single petition, which a few hundred misguided souls put your signatures on, is the action history will remember you by, and history will not be kind.  However, I think that is as wrong as saying that Rabbi Lookstein's speech would have defined his career. 
 
You espouse the rhetoric of tolerance, protesting for the Mexicans and Muslims who you claim Trump will harm, but in truth, you stand for intolerance.   You stand against the right of free speech, the right of Rabbi Lookstein to simply to deliver an invocation at a political gathering. You speak of celebrating diversity, but want to silence views that you disagree with.
 
You stand against giving the leader of your community the benefit of the doubt, something he undoubtedly has earned through decades of service to the Jewish community, and instead would judge and condemn him for taking a position at odds with your own.  
 
If you reject Trump, with whom do you stand?
 
Do you support the Democrat party, which considered labeling Israel an "occupying force" and whose committee charged with formulating policy includes BDS supporters like Cornell West?
 
Perhaps you forgot this scene from the last DNC convention?
 

 
Or perhaps you forgot the DNC and Hillary Clinton's support of eliminating sanctions on Iran, allowing them to develop weapons that can be used against Israel and giving them access to funds that are used to support terrorism?

You seem to confuse bombastic rhetoric, which Mr. Trump is perhaps guilty of, with bombastic policy and actions that have led to the death of your fellow Jews, and indeed, to the death of thousands the world over. 

why complain now?

Why did Bnei Yisrael in last week’s parsha start complaining about the man after 40 years in the desert, right on the threshold of entering Eretz Yisrael? For close to 40 years the menu had been the same – man for breakfast, man for lunch, man for supper – and no complaints (aside from at the beginning of the 40 years). If the menu was good enough day in and day out for all that time, why start complaining now?

Chasam Sofer answers (and my son pointed out that R’ Bachyei says something similar) that when Bnei Yisrael first entered the desert, there were complaints because that generation had grown up eating regular food and the switch to man was a shock to the system. The generation that grew up during the 40 years in the desert had never known food other than man. For them, this was the norm! When after 40 years they reached the outskirts of civilization and tasted real food, they suddenly realized what they had been missing.

This explains, writes the Chasam Sofer, the midah k’neged midah of the punishment of nechashim ha’serafim. For 40 years the ananei ha’kavod had smoothed out the road and eliminated any danger from snakes, scorpions, and other creatures of the desert. Hashem was telling Bnei Yisrael that if they don’t like the miracle-food of man – they want the real thing – then they would get reality. The reality is that snakes bite and sting, as they would discover.

When I said this over on Shabbos, my wife added a chiddush of her own. The man freed Bnei Yisrael from having to deal with the kelala given to Adam of “b’zey’as apecha tochal lechem,” having to toil for one’s bread. By transcending the cursed state of Adam, Bnei Yisrael were also freed from having to deal with “v’eivah ashis beincha u’bein ha’isha,” the curse of animosity between the snake and man. Once Bnei Yisrael expressed a desire to come back down to earth and have real bread, i.e. have the “b'zey’as apecha tochal lechem.” Hashem showed them that it was a package deal, and they would now have to deal with the nachash as well.

Speaking of the Chasam Sofer, he is the only source I think I have found that addresses the question of why Miriam deserved to die in the desert and not enter Eretz Yisrael. He quotes from Chazal that lashom ha’ra hurts the one who does the speaking, the one who it is spoken to, and the one spoken about. It was the sin of speaking against Moshe that did Miriam in. Moshe and Aharon, the ones spoken to and about, were also guilty, but they were given a chance to redeem themselves by speaking to the rock. Had they done so, it would have demonstrated to Bnei Yisrael the power of speech, and the danger that comes with misusing words. Since they failed, they too were subject to the punishment that came from Miriam’s lashon ha’ra.

you and I can be as great as Eliyahu

1) Ramban writes (Shmos end of ch 15) that the Hashem is “mamtik mar b’mar.” Lemons are bitter so we add sugar to make lemonade; Hashem makes the lemonade sweet by using the bitter items themselves. When Bnei Yisrael left Mitzrayim and came to Marah, a place with bitter undrinkable water, Hashem showed Moshe how he could sweeten the waters by using a bitter tree. Normally, as Ramban on our parsha writes, a person bitten by a snake would not be able to tolerate even the sight of a snake, but Hashem arranged things so that looking at the nechash he’nechoshes would cure the bite. I would argue that we take advantage of this same miracle in our lives. The very same germs that cause all kinds of diseases can be injected into a person to protect them from those same illnesses – vaccination.

Yet that’s not how the Mishna in Rosh haShana (3:8) seems to present how things work. The Mishna rhetorically asks, “Is it the snake [the nachash he’nechoshes] that kills or cures”? Of course not. Rather, looking up at the snake caused people to direct their eyes toward heaven and remind themselves that they need to accept ol malchus shamayim – that’s what cured people.

M’mah nafshach: if the cure came through looking to shamayim, i.e. through tefilah, then why did Moshe need to make this precise tool of the nechash nechoshes? Why not just point toward the sky? But if the nachash he’nechoshes really had the power to cure, then why do Chazal tell us that it was looking heavenward that did the trick?

The Mishna in Pesachim writes that King Chizkiyahu did away with the “Book of Cures.” Rambam quotes that some explain that this was a book of medicine that Chizkiyahu chose to hide because people relied on it for cures instead of trusting in G-d. Rambam rejects this as ridiculous. Going to a doctor or taking medicine does not prove a lack of trust in G-d any more than eating when one is hungry does. Ramban, on the other hand, writes in Parshas Bechukosai that when the nation will reach a high enough spiritual level there will be no need for doctors. True bitachon means relying on G-d alone.

Sefas Emes (5636) answers our question regarding the nachash ha’nechoshes by trying to have his cake and eat it too when it comes to this machlokes. The nachash, the tree that made the water drinkable, vaccines, all really do work, and Hashem wants us to use these tools. You can’t just point to the sky and hope for a miracle. The Rambam is right -- we live in a world of teva and Hashem wants us to play by its rules.  That being said, what Chazal in the Mishna are telling us is that we also have to realize that this is not the ideal.  We need to look up to heaven and at least dream of a time and place where we are not constrained by the rules of teva.  Ramban is right not in a practical sense, but in an ideal sense. 

2) “Rosheich alay k’Karmel v’dalas roseich k‘argaman…” (Shir haShirim 7:6) The Midrash reads this pasuk as describing the beauty in G-d’s eyes of even the worst members of Klal Yisrael. “Rosheich” is read by the Midrash as “reishech,” from the word “rash,” meaning poor person – not poor financially, but poor in good deeds; “dalas” is taken by the Midrash as a hint to the word “dal,” another synonym for a person who is wanting. The Midrash writes that the poorest miscreant in Klal Yisrael is as valuable in G-d's eyes as Eliyahu haNavi who davened for rain and was answered; the poorest no-goodnik is as great as David haMelech and Daniel.

Three years ago I posed the question of how this makes sense. It’s like saying that since I can swing a bat I am as good a baseball player as Derek Jeter. Obviously, it’s not true.  So what do Chazal mean?

Back then I outlines two approaches: 1) Shiurei Da’as: the distance between man and G-d is infinite. When you travel down an infinite road, it’s true the person who has progressed 2 miles has gone much further than the person who has gone 2 yards, but relative to the road as a whole, both are in about the same position; 2) my own thought: l’fum tza’ara agra. G-d measures our achievement on a scale relative to our abilities, not as an absolute. 

Fast forward three years and I found the Netziv in the Harchev Davar on this week’s parsha  addresses this same Midrash and suggests that the Midrash is equating the avodah of Joe-ordinary with Dovid, Daniel, and Eliyahu only with respect to the power of tefilah. The need for tefilah is built into the teva of the world.   Parshas Braishis tells us that Hashem wanted to bring rain for the plants to grow, but he waited until Adam was there to daven for it. Hashem wants it to rain, he wants the plants to grow, he wants teva to operate as it should.  All that stands in the way is for someone -- like you or me -- giving the word.  The bar of what is required, at least in ensuring that our needs are met b'derech ha'teva, is so low that no matter who you are, you can accomplish what needs to be done.

This is why, says the Netziv, the Midrash uses the example of Eliyahu davening for rain.   Hashem had already promised to lift the drought before Eliyahu davened. His words didn’t cause the rain to fall – they were just necessary as a trigger to bring about what Hashem already said would happen. David’s tehillim, Daniel’s daily tefilah – these were the same prayers that you and I say, not extraordinary requests for extraordinary things. 

Chazal see the end of the pasuk in Shir haShirim, melech asur b'rehatim, as a reference to Moshe Rabeinu's sin at Mei Meriva.  Hashem wanted Moshe to speak -- to daven, and show that the needs of the people could be met not through the supernatural, but through tefilah, which is part of the natural way the world works.   This lesson was necessary as a prelude to life in Eretz Yisrael -- a life of farming, working, etc., a very different existence that life in the midbar.  This hanhaga was not the midah/character of Moshe, and therefore, he did not meet Hashem's expectations.

I don't think I captured the Netziv's point as well as I could have, so please see it inside if you can.  It's well worth it.

what Korach the aron bearer should have learned from his job

1) The Midrash asks, “What motivated Korach, who was one of the carriers of the aron, to rebel against Moshe?” Why does the Midrash focus specifically on the fact that Korach helped carry the aron? Chazal tell us that the aron was “nosei es nos’av,” it carried those who were carrying it. Someone who didn’t know better might look at a kohen and say, “There is no way that guy is strong enough or big enough to carry the aron!” That assessment may be right, but it didn’t matter – those selected to do the job were given the ability to do it. The aron schlepped them; they didn’t have the schlep the aron.  Korach should have realized that even though when he looked at Moshe, at Aharon, he thought that there is no way they are qualified, it doesn’t matter. “Aron nosei es nos’av” – it’s all about siyata d’shemaya.

2) The Midrash tells us that the wife of On ben Peles sat by the doorway of their tent washing her hair so that no one could enter and involve her husband  in the rebellion of Korach.  R’ Ya’akov Kamentzky points out an amazing thing. Here you have people leading a rebellion against Moshe Rabeinu, a rebellion that in effect undermined Torah itself by calling Moshe’s credibility into question, and they are makpid not to see a woman's hair uncovered -- they are medakdek on something that plenty of "frum" people would not be so concerned about, while at the same time being kofrim in fundamentals.

The problem with Korach was not a lack of frumkeit. The problem was his vested interest in pursuing his own agenda. When there was no vested interest, he had no problems with dikdukei halacha.  The ba'alei musar would tell you that this is no exception to the rule -- it's human nature.  All too often  rationalizations are just a means to advance an agenda driven by underlying negi'os.  The general populace, however, sees a guy who they know is nedakdek on every kutzo shel yud making an argument and so they assume this too is l'shem shamayim and has validity.  It's hard to tell the difference.  

3) Moshe’s reaction to Korah and his camp is “Rav lachem bnei Levi.” When Moshe davened to enter Eretz Yisrael, Hashem echoed those same words, saying (Devarim 3:26), “Rav lach…” and denied Moshe’s request. What kind of midah k’neged midah is this? The camp of Korach followers wanted to overturn the system and take authority and position that was not theirs. Moshe Rabeinu, as the gemara (Sotah 14) tells us, wanted to enter Eretz Yisrael simply to be able to do more mitzvos. Why should Hashem throw back at him the words he used against Korach?

There was a lot to criticize about Korach’s rebellion, but the one silver lining was that at least some of the participants may have really wanted to be on a higher level of ruchniyus. Sometimes aspirations cannot be fulfilled; sometimes there are boundaries to what one can achieve; however, having she’ifos and dreams of greatness is itself only positive. When Moshe said “rav lachem,” the message he was sending was that you can’t even dream.  He shut down the aspirations of those involved without trying to redirect it to some healthier channel.  That was what Hashem found unacceptable, and therefore Moshe’s own dreams were held back.

techeiles (an interesting textual emendation by the Meshech Chochma)

A few notes on Rashi in last week's parsha on the topic techeiles:

1) Color: Rashi (15:38) writes that techeiles is a “tzeva yarok,” which we would translate as green, or maybe greenish blue. Later in the parsha (15:42) Rashi quotes from R’ Moshe haDarshan that techeiles is a reminder of makkas bechoros, which took place at night, and therefore techeiles is a dark color like the night sky (midnight blue?) Chazal famously tell us that “techeiles domeh l’yam…,”suggesting it is a sea blue or sea green color, though the statement may be a figurative association rather than a literal description of the color. Rambam writes that the techeiles is the color of sky blue during midday.

2) Knots: Rashi quotes from the Tanchuma writes that tzitzis is a reminder of taryag mitzvos because tzitzis is gematriya 600 (Rashi is counting two yud’s in the word even though in the Torah it is spelled without those yud’s – see Gur Aryeh and others) + 8 strings and 5 knots = 613.

A little background to set the stage for what is difficult here: the gemara (Menachos 39) tells us that each set of tzitzis should have between 7 and 13 sets of windings (chulyos) with 3 windings of string (krichos) per set (this is how most Rishonim read it). The gemara also writes that one should have a knot between each chulya.

So how do you get 5 knots? There should be at least 8 knots if not more?

The simplest answer is that we don’t pasken like this Tanchuma (the Rambam does not quote it). Some Rishonim hold that the chulyos alternated between techeiles and white. If you leave off the three chulyos of techeiles and do only four of white, you would end up with five knots. Alternatively, the techeiles and white chulyos may have been paired together.

3) Number of strings: Rashi and Tosfos (Menachos 38) hold that two of the 4 complete strings (that are doubled to make 8) should be techeiles. Rambam holds only one string of eight is techeiles; Ra’avad says it is one complete strong of the 4.

Rashi (15:41) on our parsha quoting R’ Moshe haDarshan writes that tzitzis have eight strings corresponding to the eight days that passed from yetzi’as Mitzrayim until kri’as Yam Suf. Everyone asks the same question: kri’as Yam Suf took place seven, not eight days after yetzias Mitzrayim!

Meshech Chochma gives a simple answer: there is an error in our text of Rashi -- instead of 8, it should say 7. But don’t tzitzis have 8 strings? He explains that R’ Moshe haDarshan held like the shitas haRambam, that 1 of 8 strings is techeiles, leaving 7 that are white – these are the 7 strings that correspond to the 7 days that Rashi is talking about.

Meshech Chochma does not bring any proof for his textual emendation, but there may be evidence that he is right if you read Rashi on the first pasuk in Parshas Korach carefully. Rashi quotes from the Midrash that Korach’s followers dressed themselves in garments made entirely of techeiles and challenged Moshe to explain why these garments were obligated in tzitzis. “If ONE thread of techeiles is sufficient when the garment is of some another color,” they argued, “Then surely if the entire garment is made of techeiles there should be no need for tzitzis.” Unlike Rashi on the gemara, who writes that 2 techeiles strings are required, here Rashi seems to indicate that one string is enough.

laws for thee, not for me

A few months ago I wrote that I no longer think dina d'malchusa applies to the current banana republic-like country in which we live in.  I beat Kurt Schlichter by a few months, but his article is worth reading.  He puts it bluntly: "The idea of the rule of law today is a lie. There is no law. There is no justice. There are only lies."  And he wrote this before today's ridiculous outrage by James Comey.  About that, I refer you to the Observer, which had this to say:

Today, the FBI sold out the Rule of Law in America. After describing clear evidence of extensive mishandling of classified national security information, FBI Director James Comey announced that the FBI will not recommend indicting former secretary of state Hillary Clinton. This is naked crony government, ugly and exposed. Comey’s decision will go down as one of the government’s worst assaults on truth in its War on Honesty.

I could not have put it better.

On a similar note, maybe someone can explain to me why the same people  hyperventilating over a little six-sided star in a Trump ad have no problem with anything  their party and their President giving billions to Iran so they can arm Hezbollah and Hamas and eventually get a nuke to threaten Israel with.  Isn't that a little worse than a star in an ad?  But what do I know.

Yehoshua and Kalev's irrational argument

1) Parshas Shelach opens with a "machlokes" between the majority of scouts and the minority of Kalev and Yehoshua. The majority delivered a report saying the land was unconquerable – the inhabitants were too mighty, the cities too fortified, there were giants living there. Kalev presented the dissenting view – “Aloh na’aleh v’yarashnu osah,” we can go up and conquer. We can imagine the same scene being played out in any number of other contexts: before battle, generals gather, plans are presented, risk are weighed. Do we invade? Can we succeed? It doesn’t matter if we are speaking about Canaan, D-Day, or Fallujah, it’s all the same story. 

The debate seems to end with the majority view winning the day, and the people reacting with tears and complaints to Moshe as to why they left Egypt. But the debate was apparently not over. A few pesukim later Yehoshua and Kalev speak up again, saying the land is good, and, “Im chafeitz banu Hashem v’havi osanu el ha’aretz ha’zos… eretz asher hi zavas chalav u’devash.” (15:8) If G-d desires, he can bring us to the land of milk and honey. The generals/scouts had already sat down at the table and debated, assessed, and came to a conclusion. The people had reacted and weighed in as well. What were Yehoshua and Kalev adding? Why did they think these words would carry any more weight than Kalev’s previous impassioned speech?

Shem m’Shmuel explains that they key to Yehoshua and Kalev’s argument is one word – “chafeitz,” desire. You can argue with me from today till tomorrow that vanilla ice cream is better than chocolate, that the Yankees are better than the Mets, that Picasso is better than Rembrandt, but it won’t make any difference. Reason is irrelevant when you are talking about a like, a desire, a cheifetz. This is what I like – I can’t explain why, I can’t justify why, and I don’t need to.

The generals sitting around the table before any battle in history can weigh the merits of “go” vs. “no go, ” but the fight for Eretz Yisrael is different. In this argument, the side arguing “go” always holds the winning trump card because in this argument, it’s not about risk/benefit analyses or tactics or strategy. B’derech ha’teva all those play a role, but only in so far as determining the “how” – not the “if.” At the end of the day, the conquest of Eretz Yisrael is about one thing: “im chafetz banu” – Hashem's desire. Yehosua and Kalev were telling the people that ain hachi nami, based on logic and reason and strategy their argument may appear to be weaker than that of the majority view – they can even concede that part of the debate -- but their point of view is still right, because logic and reason go out the window when the issue is “im chafetz banu Hashem,” what Hashem wants. Even the question of whether or not we deserve it goes out the window.

2) Many meforshim read the parshiyos of mitzvos that follow the cheit ha’meraglim as a response to their sin. Seforno explains that originally, no korbanos needed nesachim. After the cheit ha’eigel, Bnei Yisrael were given the mitzvah of bringing nesachim with korbanos tzibur to make these offerings acceptable. Now, after cheit ha’meraglim, nesachim were needed even with korbanos yachid to make then acceptable.

Shem m’Shmuel sees the nesachim not as a corrective measure for some deficiency or failure, but as an opportunity. Pre-mattan Torah, korbanos did not have the power to include the ingredients of nesachim in their tikun. After mattan-Torah, Hashem gave us a bonus and we were given the privilege of bringing nesachim. Because the tzibur was united, the nesachim of korbanos tzibur worked on behalf of everyone. The cheit ha’meraglim splintered the community and that unity was lost. Therefore, nesachim had to be brought by each individual on his own behalf.

He doesn't spell it out, but it seems that what broke the unity of the nation was the rejection of Eretz Yisrael.  One of the defining features of a nation is having a homeland.  Since Klal Yisrael rejected Eretz Yisrael, they were reduced to a collection of individuals, a bunch of tribes wandering around together.  Erertz Yisrael is the glue that binds us together as one.

B'ha'aloscha: why "nochal" in future tense; kri\kesiv of "anav;" the two meanings of "na"

1) “Zacharnu es ha’dagah asher NOCAL b’Mitzrayim chinam…” (11:5) I saw the following question quoted in R’ Shteinman’s name: why use the word “nochal,” future tense, e.g. “mah NOACHAL ba’shanah hashevi’is…?” (Vayikra 25:20), when we are talking about what was eaten in the past in Mitzrayim? Shouldn’t it be past tense?

I am surprised that none of the meforshim I took a look at dealt with this issue. My wife suggested that Bnei Yisrael here were planning to rebel and turn back to Mitzrayim. The people remembered the good stuff they saw in Egypt, but never could have.  Now, with the defeat of Egypt, they anticipated returning and being able to indulge. 

2) Moshe is described in our parsha as “ANAV me’od.” (12:3) The word “anav” is a kri/kesiv. The kesiv is without a yud; the kri is with a yud before the final vav. Can someone who knows more about grammar than I do please explain the difference? How is anav without a yud pronounced differently than anav without a yud? (See Minchas Shai)

R’ Bachyei explains that the missing yud is a punishment. When Moshe was about to draw water from the rock to give to Bnei Yisrael in response to their complaints, he said to BN”Y, “Ha’min ha’sela ha’zeh NOTZI lachem mayim?” (Bamidbar 20:12) He should have said “YOTZI,” referring to Hashem. Since Moshe left out the yud there, the yud is missing here – there is a little something missing from the anivus (we are talking about infinitesimal degrees here, not a noticeable chisaron). Apparently even though had not uttered those words yet, the minute pgam was part of his personality at this point (or you could say the Torah is speaking from the perspective of the omniscient reader, as discussed last week.)

3) There is an interesting machlokes between Targum Onkelus and Targum Yonasan as to how to translate Moshe’s tefilah of “K-l NA refa NA lah” (12:13) Targum Yonasan explains both words “na” the same way, as a supplication. Targum Onkelus explains the second “na” as “immediately.” We find this same use in a few other places (see the notes to R’ Cooperman’s edition of the Meshech Chochma). Ibn Ezra explains that the issur of eating the korban pesach “na” means undercooked – it was taken off the fire too quickly. When the malachim come to Sdom, Lot tells them “suru na” and enter his home. He’s not saying “please” to them – he is telling them to rush, because it was dangerous to welcome guests into your home in Sdom.   I was pleasantly surprised to see that the Artscroll translation of “Ana Hashem hoshi’a na” captures this meaning. We are not just saying, “Please Hashem help us” (as the Koran siddur explains it, but we are asking, as Artscroll translates, “Please Hashem help us NOW.”

why Moshe was more disturbed by kivros ha'ta'avah than cheit ha'eigel

Following Bnei Yisrael’s complaint about the man, the Torah tells us that, “V’ha’man k’zra gad hu, v’eino k’ein ha’bedolach.” (12:7) Rashi explains that the Torah is telling us how wonderful the man was, showing us just how silly and baseless the complaint of Bnei Yisrael was. In a similar vein the next pasuk tells us that the man could taste like whatever food a person desired. It was an incredible food – the people should have been gobbling it up. The Torah then adds an additional detail. “U’b’redes ha’tal al ha’machaneh layla yeired ha’man alav.” (12:9) The dew would fall at night, and next morning, on top of the dew, there was the man. Unlike the previous pesukim, this pasuk doesn’t seem to be telling us anything incredible about the taste or quality of the man. The dew fell and then man fell – so what? Why mention it here?

Moving on, the Torah tells us that Moshe heard the people crying, each by their own tent, and Hashem was angry, “u’b’eini Moshe ra,” it was bad in Moshe’s eyes. It sounds like until now everything was A-ok, but now Moshe got upset. Why didn’t he get upset right away, when the people started making their baseless complaints? What set him off only now?

Finally, we have Moshe’s incredible speech in which he asks Hashem how he is supposed to handle the burden of such rebellious people. This is the first time Moshe has had such a reaction. If Moshe was able to handle the cheit ha’eigel, why couldn’t he handle this challenge? (R’ Soloveitchik has a great shiur that addresses this question that you can find quoted many places.)

Chasam Sofer explains that it was probably only a people at first who started complaining -- rebellions start with a few vocal people, not a mass uprising. The rest of Bnei Yisrael stood on the sidelines, watching, waiting. What would the reaction to these rabble rousers be? What punishment would they invite? The people woke up the next morning, and incredibly, “u’b’redes ha’tal al ha’machaneh layla yeired ha’man alav,” the dew had fallen, the man had fallen on top of it, and nothing had changed from the day before. The miracle of the man did not cease, the food was not cut off, and life seemed to be the same as always!  At that point, things began to snowball. Since there were no consequences, the rebellion   expanded. There were now more people involved, “ha’am bocheh l’mishpichosav,” and Hashem was angry at the people as a whole.

What upset Moshe, “b’eini Moshe ra,” was not the rebellion per se – this wasn’t worse than cheit ha’eigel. What bothered Moshe was the fact that Hashem had done nothing to halt events before they snowballed. What bothered Moshe was, “u’b’redes ha’tal al ha’machaneh layla yeired ha’man alav,” the fact that the man had fallen as it always had.  Moshe understood that as the leader of Klal Yisrael, it was his job was to give tochacha, to deal with complaints, outbursts, problems, and guide the people to do good.  But he also assumed that it was not his job alone, it was not “masa ha’am ha’zeh alai,” just his burden.  He expected Hashem to also play a role in curbing the people's bad behaviors. 

A tactic all little kids try is when parent #1, father or mother, decides to punish them in some way, they go to parent #2 and try to get their way.  If the parents are not on the same page, it makes for problems.  Moshe was in effect telling Hashem that if he has to sometimes take a tough line and give tochacha to Klal Yisrael, Hashem can't still be dispensing goodies to them as if nothing was awry. 

But as the Chasam Sofer says succinctly, “Ze’hu darkei Elokeinu yisbarach.” Maybe there would be fewer people who went off the derech if the millionaire who was mechalel Shabbos lost his fortune, or if a lighting bolt immediately struck  down wrongdoers.  I imagine more people would listen to the Rabbi's speech Shabbos morning if they knew that if they stepped out of line, there would be real consequences. But that’s not how it works. Hashem gives us a long rope.  The Rabbi still has to give his speech and try to get us to do good, and hopefully he succeeds, but even if he fails, Hashem does not take away our lifeline.

See Sefas Emes 5644 who interprets the whole parsha here to the credit of Klal Yisrael.  The people had a ta'avah, and they started crying, saying that they remembered the food they ate for free in Egypt.  What they were crying about is not the fact that they didn't have food.  What they were crying about is the fact that they felt such a ta'avah!  They were crying that they had hirhurim about the past in Egypt.  Amazing.

is Torah written from the perspective of the omniscient reader?

The Torah tells us in Parshas Naso that the Nes'im brought gifts to dedicate the Mishkan. Who were the Nesi'im? The Torah describes them as "heim nesi'ei ha'matos, heim ha'omdim al ha'pekudim." (7:2) Rashi explains that they were the leaders who assisted Moshe in the count of Bnei Yisrael that we read about in last week's parsha.

Many of the meforshei Rashi are bothered by the chronology here. The count in last week's parsha took place in Iyar. The chanukas haMishkan when the Nesi'im gave their gifts took place on Rosh Chodesh Nisan. It would have been impossible for Moshe or anyone else to know the Nesi'im at that time as the "omdim al ha'pekudim" as the count had not yet occurred.  So how could the Torah describe them as such?  (Abarbanel interestingly suggests that the parshiyos are in chronological order.  When the Torah speaks of the chanukas hamishkan, it does not mean "opening day," 1 Nisan.  It means the first day in which individuals offered their own korbanos, as opposed to korbanos tzibur.  The Nesi'im were given the honor to inaugurate this new type of avodah, and the date was sometime post 1 Iyar.)  

The answer Maharal proposes is that from our perspective – the perspective of the omniscient reader – we already know what happened in last week's parsha.  The Torah is speaking from our point of view, not from the point of view of a character in the storyline.

I don't know why this idea doesn't sit well with me and off the top of my head I don't have a source to challenge it, so it must just be me. 

Another example illustrating the same idea:

In Parshas BaMidbar Moshe is told to count every Levi from one month old and up. Rashi explains that the threshold of one month is the demarcation between a viable living child and a neifel. Rashi then continues and offers a Midrashic explanation of why Levi alone was counted from such an early age when all other shevatim were counted from age 20 and up. The Torah tells us that there were seventy members of Ya’akov’s family who came down to Egypt.  However, if you tally up all the people listed, the total comes to only 69. The missing person, says Rashi, is Yocheved, who was born just as they entered the city. We see from here that even a baby Levi is counted. Moshe’s count just continued the tradition.

Meforshei Rashi ask: isn’t Rashi self-contradictory? First Rashi tells us that you can only count a child older than 30 days old to ensure that the child is not a neifel. Then Rashi tells us that Yocheved was counted from the moment of birth – even younger than 30 days old. If she is the model, then why not count everyone from birth?

Again, Maharal explains that the Torah is speaking from the perspective of the omniscient reader. Had someone in Ya’akov’s family taken a count, he/she would have excluded Yocheved, as he/she would have no way of knowing until 30 days passed whether she was a neifel or not. When Moshe counted the members of the tribe of Levi, he had to exclude everyone younger than 30 days as there was no way he could tell whether that child was a neifel. However, we, the readers, know that Yocheved did live a long life. We, the readers, know that she was not a neifel. Therefore, from our perspective, she counts as the seventieth member of Ya’akov’s family entering Egypt.

The truth is that this issue comes up in the very first parsha in the Torah. The Torah (Braishis 2:14) describes the third river of Eden, Chidekel, as flowing “kidmas Ashur,” east toward Ashur. There obviously was no nation of Ashur yet – if you told someone standing in Eden to look for the river that flowed toward Ashur, he would have no idea what you are talking about. The gemara (Kesubos 10) explains that this proves “kasav k’ra l’asid,” the Torah was written in a way that anticipates what would happen in the future.  Is that the same thing as saying Torah is written from the perspective of the omniscient reader?  Or do you think it means something else?

zemer vs shirah and the mistake of David

No time, but I did not want to skip a whole week from writing!

The gemara (Sotah 35) writes that Hashem was angry at David haMelech for saying, "Zmiros ha'yu li chukecha."   How can you call Torah a "zemer," a song?  If you stop thinking about Torah for a minute, it is gone -- Torah study demands constant diligence and concentration.  It's not like "Row row row your boat."   Hashem promised David that as a result of his words and the attitude they reflected, David would make an error in a pasuk that even children know.   Sure enough, when it came time to transport the aron kodesh, David used a wagon, misinterpreting the pasuk in our parsha that says the aron must be transported on the shoulders of the Bnei Kehas.

Netziv points out that it's not that David forgot the pasuk.  He knew that, "...Ki avodas ha'kodesh aleihem ba'kasef yisa'u." (7:9)  Those words, however, can be interpreted in two ways.  It might mean that when and if the Bnei Kehas carry the aron, they should do it on their shoulders, i.e. it's a din in the gavra.  If others carry it, then other means of transport are acceptable.  Or it might mean that when the aron is transported, the only way to do it is on the backs of Bnei Kehas, i.e. a din in the cheftza of the aron.  David misinterpreted the pasuk as meaning the former instead of the latter.

Be that as it may, what in fact is the big deal in calling Torah a "zemer?"  Isn't the mitzvah of writing a sefer Torah derived from the words, "Kisvu lachem es ha'shirag hazos?"  G-d calls Torah a shirah -- so why can't it be called a zemer?  And don't we say pesukei d'zimra every morning? 

The word zemer shares the same root as the word zomer, pruning.  If you want a plant or tree to grow, you have to first clear away all the tangle and bad growth that is strangling and holding back the good growth from developing.  When we say pesukei d'zimra, what we are doing is clearing away all the negativity that is holding us back from connecting to Hashem.  That's a wonderful and necessary goal, but it's not what Torah is all about, explains R' Yosef Englel in the Gilyonei haSha"s.  Torah is not about just eliminating the pitfalls and restraints -- Torah is what brings the new growth and makes it happen.  It is positive energy that moves a person forward.  It is a shirah that uplifts, not just a zemer that cuts away the bad.   (See also Pachad Yitzchak, Shavuos, #18)

R' Yosef Engel explains that when Yehoshua asked the malach who visited him on the eve of battle, as the gemara (Meg 3) tells us, whether he was there to chastise him for having missed the daily korban tamid or for missing learning Torah, what Yehoshua was driving at was whether what mattered more was having missed clearing away the negative energy that might bring harm, which is the goal of korbanos, or having missing the injection of positive good that comes from learning.  The malacha answered, "Atah basi," alluding to the pasuk, "Atah kisvu lachem es ha'shirah hazos."  It's the positive energy of Torah that was lacking. 

life after death (II)

Part I was really a sidelight that spun out of control.  What I really wanted to talk about is the limud of the gemara. How did R’ Yehoshua ben Levi know that people died when they heard the dibros? The gemara quotes a pasuk in Shir haShirim 5:6, “Pasachti ani l’dodi v’dodi chamak avar NAFSHI YATZA’H B’DABRO…” The problem is that if you look at the pasuk in context, it seems to mean exactly the opposite of what the gemara takes it to mean. The way the gemara interprets it, the pasuk is an allusion to becoming so overwhelmed with Hashem’s presence and closeness that one’s life departs. However, in context, what the pasuk is speaking about is opening the door to Dodi, to Hashem, and finding that it’s too late – that he is no longer knocking and waiting, he’s not there, he’s gone into hiding. Rashi comments on “nafshi yatz’ah b’dabro” that the words Dodi is saying “b’dabro” are words of departure: “I am leaving because you failed to answer.” The pasuk continues that the beloved searches for her Dod but fails to find him; the beloved calls to him but he fails to answer. This is a description of a painful parting, not a description of mattan Torah, not a description of the moment of eirusin, not of closeness with Hashem. What’s going on here?

The Sefas Emes (5640) points out a glaring redundancy in the pasuk, "V'kol ha'am ro'im es hakolos... va'yar ha'am va'yanu'u va'ya'amdu mei'rachok."  The pasuk tells us up front that the people were "ro'im es ha'kolos;" why repeat again at the end "va'yar ha'am?"  Secondly, why in the beginning of the pasuk does the Torah change the tense from the usual "va'yar," which seems to fit, to "ro'im," present tense? 

Sefas Emes answers that the Torah is speaking about two different groups of people.  "Va'yar," past tense, refers to the people who stood at Har Sinai over 3000 years ago.  "Ro'im" present tense, refers to you and me.  Every Shavuos the Torah is given anew, and we have a chance to re-experience seeing it happen all over again.

The difference is, says the Sefas Emes, that we are so far from the closeness to Hashem that we had back then.  You can't just walk into a Shavuos, walk into a ma'amad Har Sinai, and expect Hashem to drop a Torah in your lap when you are on such a small level of ruchniyus.  "Va'yar ha'am," our great-great... grandparents saw us -- saw what we would be like -- and knew that we would never be able to come close to the mountain and receive the giluy of Hashem's presence in its full force.  Therefore, "Vayanu'u," they took a step back for our sake.  "Nafshi yatza'ah b'dabro" -- not then, but now.  We are the ones who failed to respond and are now staring at the empty doorway, looking for Hashem.  But out great-great... grandparents had our neshomos within them, and therefore, even then, even though they were so close to Hashem, their souls departed and they could not take the experience.  They could not bear the totality of the giluy of mattan Torah because we were there too, within them, and we are the ones who cannot bear the totality of that giluy.

But, says the Sefas Emes, we can fix it.  Every year we experience "ro'im" all over again, and ever year it's up to us -- is this the year of "nafshi yatz'ah..." or the year where we respond to the knock at the door?

life after death (I)

I am going to break this post into two parts, so if you don't like one, maybe you will liek the other, and if you like neither, I hope you at least like your cheesecake.

The gemara (Shabbos 88b) quotes two statements from R Yehoshua ben Levi as to the “shock and awe” effect hearing the dibros had on Bnei Yisrael: 1) Bnei Yisrael were blown back away from the mountain by the force of Hashem’s words and malachim had to come and help them return; 2) Bnei Yisrael died as a result of shock and Hashem had to rain down dew of techiyas ha’meisim to revive them. So which is it – were they just blown back in shock, or did they actually die from the experience? Maharasha answers that both are correct – it all depended on the level of the listener. 

There are Achronim who use this gemara as a proof text to address the following issue: the gemara in Megillah (7) tells us that Rabbah got so inebriated that he killed R’ Zeira in the middle of Purim seudah. He then davened and brought him back to life. Would R’ Zeira need to go home and do a new kiddushin on his wife?   Is he the same R’ Zeira as before, or is the old R’ Zeira gone, the kiddushin done by him terminated, and this is a new person? (If you could interpret the whole story metaphorically there is obviously noting to talk about.) We see from our gemara that even though according to R’ Yehoshua ben Levi hearing the dibros caused people to die , they were still permitted to return to their wives after mattan Torah. There was not a mass need for new kiddushin. 

I know this is a dochak way to address the proof, but let me have fun and write it anyway.  The Pnei Yehoshua (Kid 13) has a big chiddush that the din that the death  of a husband cancels ishus and is matir a wife to marry others does not apply to a ben noach. For them, marriage (absent divorce) is forever. Assuming the Pnei Yehoshua is correct (Minchas Chinuch 34:20 disagrees), perhaps it is only on day 40 when Moshe gave Klal Yisrael the entire Torah that their status switched to full fledged yisraelim, but until that point maybe they had the status of ben noach. Therefore, even if they died, their ishus was not terminated and they could return to their wives afterwards.

Obvious problem: we eat milchigs on Shavuos because right after mattan Torah Klal Yisrael could not use their treif pots and pans. Don’t we see that the din of being a yisrael kicked in right away? I could tell you that there are other reasons for eating milchigs (the Rama writes that the idea is to use 2 loaves as a remez to the shtei ha’lechem), but there are probably a host of other questions you can ask to shoot down my idea. 

v'zacharti es brisi: tochacha or blessing?

1) "V'zacharti es brisi Ya'akov v'af v'es brisi Yitzchak v'af es brisi Ya'akov ezkor v'ha'aretz ezkor." (26:42)  The Shl"H has a famous comment as to why this pasuk is considered part of the tochacha.  If a child is raised by bad parents and he/she doesn't have a role model or training as to how to behave, it would be no wonder if the child grows up to be a monster.  But if the child has wonderful parents who are excellent role models and the child still becomes a monster, then something is really wrong.  The Torah is telling us that had we lacked role models, then maybe our behavior could be excused and the tochacha would not be that harsh.  But we are bnei Avraham, Yitzchak, and Ya'akov.  We come from the best of the best; we have within us the genes of the best of the best.  Therefore, when we misbehave, its an even greater tragedy.  WHen the pasuk here talks about Hashem remembering the Avos, it places us in an even worse light and magnifies our sins.

R' Lopian Lev Eliyahu (in the essay 'Ha'kove'a Makom l'Tefilaso' in the Ma'areches HaTeshuvah section in the edition I have) quotes a tremendous question on this Shl"H.  In the 10 pesukim of zichronos that we say on Rosh haShana, which do not include zechirot that have negative associations , we mention this pasuk of "V'zacharti es brisi...."  Clearly we are quoting the pasuk to elicit rachamim.  How can the same pasuk be both a tochacha and a vehicle to bring about Hashem's mercy?   R' Lopian in that piece says the answer is a deep yesod that he will get back to some other time -- and then he leaves us with the question.  Nu, any answers?

2) "U'fanisi aleichem v'hirbeisi eschem..."  (26:9)  The parsha until this point contained other brachos as well, brachos about bountiful crops and sufficient rainfall.  Why does the Torah only now use this phrase of "u'fanisi aleichem?" 

Netziv answers that the Torah here is speaking about raising children, "v'hirbeisi eschem..."  When it comes to crops, to rain, etc., it's enough for Hashem to direct his hashgacha to those items at the appropriate time, the appropriate season.  When it comes to raising children, it takes constant hashgacha pratis for things to work out well. 

I would say that in this regard we have to take a lesson from Hashem.  It's enough to check the market once in awhile, but kids need constant hashgacha.

3) "V'im lo tishmi'u li..." (26:14)  In many places Rashi writes that "li" means lishma, e.g. Rashi comments on "V'asu li mikdash" that the mikdash must be built lishmi, i.e. lishma.  The Netziv similarly here writes that the pasuk is speaking about Klal Yisrael not doing things lishma, for the right intention.  This is the start of the tochacha, the first step on a downward spiral of misdeeds.   But, asks the Netziv, don't Chazal tell us that, "l'olam ya'asuk adam b'Torah u'mitzvos shel'lo lishma," that a person should do things even she'lo lishma, as that ultimately will bring a person to do things for the right reason, lishma?  Don't Chazal tell us that doing things she'lo lishma is the start of an upward spiral, not a downward spiral? 

My wife suggested that it all depends on your starting point.  If your starting point is she'lo lishma, then doing something is better than nothing and may lead upward.  If, however, you were doing things lishma and then regress to a she'lo lishma, that another story.

Netziv answers that there is a difference between the individual and the community. On an individual level, each one of us may do things for less than proper motivations, with the hope of one day doing better.  These shortcomings, however, cannot be institutionalized on a communal level.  The community needs to strive for the ideal, to strive to act for the right reasons and with the right motivations.  

Chasam Sofer: kedushas Eretz Yisrael greater than Gan Eden

Chasam Sofer suggests that the wild animals referred to in the pasuk "V'hishbati chayah ra'ah min ha'aretz" symbolically represent apikorsim and evil doers.  Unlike Gan Eden, where G-d had to place a "cherev ha'mishapeches," a sword at the entrance to keep out Adam after he had sinned, the day will come when the kedushas ha'aretz will be so great that it will act as a barrier and prevent the wicked from entering the land even without the threat of a sword, "V'cherev lo ya'avor b'artzechem."

Happy Yom Yerushalayim!