Realia Judaica

Zaykher and Zekher

2012-02-28T18:25:00.000-08:00

There is no real halakhic basis for repeating the words תִּמְחֶה אֶת-זֵכֶר עֲמָלֵק in Parashat Zakhor.

The origins and history of the current practice, to repeat the verse and read זכר with a double segol, are summarized in a 1998 article by Yosef Peretz on a Bar Ilan website, based on the work of M. Breuer and Y. Penkower.

The story is briefly as follows:

The Radak was the first to testify to seeing both zaykher ("five dots") zekher ("six dots") in various biblical manuscripts.

The Maaseh Rav of R. Issachar Baer of Vilna, the earliest anthology of the Vilna Gaon's minhagim (Zolkiew, 1808, par. 133 - here), claims that the GRA pronounced the word זכר as zekher when the GRA himself recited the verse on Shabbat Zakhor. However, R. Issachar Baer immediately adds the testimony of R. Hayyim Volozhiner -- the GRA's close disciple -- that the GRA in fact read the word as zaykher, as is found in all standard chumashim; i.e., five dots, not six (R. Hayyim repeats this claim in a haskamah for Maaseh Rav dated 1817). The Mishnah Berurah recommends reading both pronunciations.

However, the oldest and most reliable versions of the Masoretic text of the Bible all read zaykher -- with five dots.

The custom of repeating זֵכֶר עֲמָלֵק only became widespread in the late twentieth century. It seems to me that out of respect for the Masoretic text -- this is the only example of a repeated variant pronunciation in the entire Torah reading -- and to avoid what is most likely a מנהג טעות, there is far more reason not to repeat the verse than there is to repeat it.

Reading Above the Line

2011-11-22T12:02:00.001-08:00

The dots appearing over a handful of words or letters in the Bibleare called the eser nekudot (there are ten instances in the Torah;five in other books), or punctaextraordinaria. While the latter term may sound a bit pretentious incasual conversation, it is still preferable to “stigmatized words,” anotherdescription I have seen used. These words may have problems, but they donot deserve to be stigmatized.

One of the most intriguing examplesis in Gen. 33:4, the opening scene of Jacob’s dreaded encounter withEsau. Even in the normally unpunctuated Torah scroll, there is dot aboveeach letter of the word וישקהו.

וַיָּרָץ עֵשָׂו לִקְרָאתוֹוַיְחַבְּקֵהוּ וַיִּפֹּל עַל צַוָּארָו וַיִּשָּׁקֵהוּ וַיִּבְכּוּ:

Rashi addresses the dots, quotingfrom Sifre:

וַיִּשָּׁקֵהוּ - נקוד עליו,ויש חולקין בדבר הזה בברייתא דספרי (בהעלותך סט), יש שדרשו נקודה זו לומר שלא נשקובכל לבו. אמר ר' שמעון בן יוחאי הלכה היא בידוע שעשו שונא ליעקב, אלא שנכמרו רחמיובאותה שעה ונשקו בכל לבו:

Hazal saw the dots as cause for derasha; a signal for midrashic interpretation toaccount for a problem with the word underneath. The first opinion cited byRashi claims that the dots detract from the literal meaning of the word. Since Esau’s greeting was halfhearted, the word is marked with a kind ofexegetical strikethrough. R. Shimon bar Yohai views these dots much like anunderline or italics, meant to emphasize the uniqueness of Esau’s behavior ratherthan diminish its literalness. The kiss was heartfelt, but it wasalso extraordinary; an exception to the rule borne out by history that “Esauhates Jacob.”

Interestingly, Rashi cites theversion of this midrash from Sifre, rather than its parallel in Bereshit Rabba(78):

וַיָּרָץ עֵשָׂו לִקְרָאתוֹ וַיִּשָּׁקֵהוּ, נקוד עליו. אר"ש בן אלעזר . . . מלמד שנכמרו רחמיו באותה השעה ונשקו בכללבו. אמר לו ר' ינאי אם כן למהנקוד עליו? אלא מלמד שלא בא לנשקואלא לנשכו, ונעשה צוארו של אבינויעקב של שיש וקהו שיניו של אותו רשע. ומהת"ל וַיִּבְכּוּ? אלא זה בוכהעל צוארו וזה בוכה על שיניו, ר' אבהו בשם ר' יוחנן מייתי לה מן הכא (שיר השירים ז)צוארך כמגדל השן וגו'.

The latter opinion in this versionsuggests we exegetically "modify" וַיִּשָּׁקֵהוּ and read it וַיִּשָּׁכֵהוּ. The dots allow us to completely overturn the simple meaning ofthe verse by changing – homiletically, not textually – one of the letterswithin the word. In choosing the Sifre version, perhaps Rashi believedthat it is closer to the peshat;that dots may indicate a word marked for emphasis or for “erasure” – again, onthe level of midrash, rather than textual criticism – but that they could notsuggest such a radically nonliteral reading as found in Bereshit Rabba. Ibn Ezra, for one, believed that the story of Esau biting Jacob’s neck was veryfar from peshat. Inhis own characteristically sharp words: הדרש על נקודות וישקהו טוב הוא לעתיקימשדים, כי על דרך הפשט לא חשב עשו לעשות רע לאחיו, והעד ויבכו, כאשר עשה יוסף עםאחיו

On another instance of supra-linearpunctuation in Genesis (19:33), וְלֹא-יָדַע בְּשִׁכְבָהּ וּבְקוּמָהּ, Rashi makes a fairly clear statement to theeffect that dots are midrashic deletion marks. There is a dot above thesecond vav in the word וּבְקוּמָהּ. Rashi makes the following comment:

ובקומה - של בכירה נקוד, לומר הרי הוא כאילו לא נכתב,לומר שבקומה ידע ואף על פי כן לא נשמר ליל שני מלשתות.

Thephrase I highlighted is missing from standard editions of Rashi’s commentary(e.g., Mikraot Gedolot),but appears in those based on the defusrishon, the incunabulum of Rashi’s commentary from 1475, printed in Reggiodi Calabria in Southern Italy, and one of the first printed Hebrew books (e.g.,ed. Chavel, Mossad Harav Kook, 1982). Perhaps this line in Rashi, “[thedot] tells us that [the word] is as if not written,” was seen by some editorsas dangerously close to the idea of textual emendation of the Torah by theMasoretes, in the same way that certain explicit references by Rashi to thealteration of biblical verses (tikkun soferim) were excised from hiscommentary (on tikkun soferim see, e.g., the following Seforim Blog post; on Rashi’sview of supra-linear dots, see also Bava Metzia 87a, s.v. limda: דכל נקודה עוקרת התיבה שאינה אלא לדרשה).

A thorough treatment of the eser nekudot is offered by David Weiss Halivni in Peshat and Derash (1991) and Revelation Restored (1997). Halivni writes both as a traditionalist and asan academic scholar of rabbinic literature. His thesis – in a summarythat will not do justice to his erudition, or to the precision and elegance of hiswriting – is as follows: Ezra, the prophet-scribe, and his colleaguesinherited a Torah that had become “maculate” due to neglect, i.e., because ofthe culture of idolatry and syncretism which dominated the First Templeperiod. In reintroducing Torah Law to a people eager for instruction,Ezra had to overcome the human maculation of the divine Torah. One of the methods Ezra used to accomplishthis was to place dots over corrupted texts. Halivni cites amuch-discussed passage on the nekudot in Bemidbar Rabba (3:13) whichpreserves the memory of Ezra’s role in this process:

וי"א למה נקוד. אלא כך אמר עזרא: אם יבא אליהו ויאמר, למה כתבת אותן? אומר לו כבר נקדתי עליהם. ואם יאמר לי, יפה כתבת! כבר אמחוק נקודותיהן מעליהן.

Some give another reason why the dots were inserted. Ezrareasoned thus: If Elijah comes and asks, “Why have you written thesewords?” I shall answer, “That is why I dotted these passages.” And if hesays to me, “You have done well in having written them,” I shall erase the dotesabove them (Translation from David Weiss Halivni, Revelation Restored, p. 17).

Other sources from the literature ofHazal (e.g., Sanhedrin 21b), in which Ezra is ranked almost as an equal toMoses in the revelation, point to Ezra’s pivotal role in the restoration of theTorah after the exile. The idea of textual emendation by Ezra wasunderstandably downplayed over the generations, Halivni suggests, in order toemphasize the sanctity of the written word. But evidence of such activityremains in these passages.

Theories dealing with changes to thetext of the Torah may cause bneiTorah much confusion and discomfort, as they fly in the face of the mostpopular, and most radical, notions regarding the Masoretic text. One such idea is Maimonides’ Eighth Principleof Faith, which states that the Torah we possess today is exactly the same – tothe letter – as the one given to Moses on Sinai. Without minimizing theproblem, it is important to be aware of Maimonides’ detractors on this matterand also to view the Eighth Principle in its theological and historicalcontext, both of which have been facilitated by Dr. Marc B. Shapiro in The Limits of Orthodox Theology (2004). (The theological issue goeswell beyond Maimonides’ Principles of Faith and is addressed in detail by Halivniin Peshat and Derash). The question of when, or whether, to introduce traditional students to moderncritical views of the esernekudot, as well as other aspects of modern biblical scholarship, is aneducational matter which must be carefully considered.

That the nekudot may be understood -- on thelevel of peshat -- as scribal marks casting doubt on the underlying words, can be visualized in the recentonline publication of five Dead Sea Scrolls (on an Israel Museum website poweredby Google). In the Great Isaiah Scroll, viewable here and below, we see two examples,in nearby verses, of supra-linear dots; both are within the columndesignated XXIX. The first example is from Isaiah 36:4, where the words מלך יהודה are dotted in the same manneras the eser nekudot. The second is from 36:7, where dots were added above the word בירושלים. In both cases, the marked words are absent in theMasoretic (i.e., our) version of Isaiah. I am not suggesting that thedots in the Isaiah Scroll are perfectly analogous to those in the Torah,especially since the latter were, in the end, preserved alongwith the words below. Furthermore, the notations in the Isaiah Scroll mayhave been driven by an unknown sectarian agenda. Still, there is enough similarity here – lehavdil– to warrant some comparison and to begin a discussion, even among bneiTorah.

Returning to our original examplefrom the reunion of Jacob and Esau (Gen. 33:4), I suspect that the dots over וַיִּשָּׁקֵהוּ were originally placed therefor structural reasons, related to the proper flow of the verse. Note howthe word וַיִּשָּׁקֵהוּ is placed directly betweentwo phrases, וַיִּפֹּל עַל-צַוָּארָו – hugging –and וַיִּבְכּוּ – crying. However, inthree other instances in Genesis, crying follows hugging immediately, withoutinterruption:

45:14 וַיִּפֹּל עַל-צַוְּארֵי בִנְיָמִן-אָחִיו וַיֵּבְךְּ וּבִנְיָמִן בָּכָה עַל-צַוָּארָיו:

46:29 וַיֶּאְסֹריוֹסֵף מֶרְכַּבְתּוֹ וַיַּעַל לִקְרַאת-יִשְֹרָאֵל אָבִיו גּשְׁנָה וַיֵּרָאאֵלָיו וַיִּפֹּלעַל-צַוָּארָיו וַיֵּבְךְּ עַל-צַוָּארָיועוֹד:

50:1 וַיִּפֹּל יוֹסֵף עַל-פְּנֵי אָבִיו וַיֵּבְךְּ עָלָיו וַיִּשַּׁק-לוֹ

Like other issues regarding the biblical text, we will never know the history ofthe dots with certainty. Inthis case, it is possible that doubts about Esau’s sincerity motivated the scribesto place, or to maintain, the dots. I alsobelieve it is possible, even likely, that dots were first placed above Esau’skiss as part of a prophetic, yet human, attempt to determine the most faithfulwording of kitve ha-kodesh.

On Waving the Lulav

2011-10-11T10:58:00.000-07:00

The practice of נענועים -- waving and shaking the four Sukkot species in all directions -- begs for explanation. It is an ancient ritual; while not mentioned in the Bible, it is cited in early rabbinic sources. But despite its centrality to the Sukkot service, it remains mysterious even to "insiders."

The halakhic status of נענועים should not be minimized. While the details of how and when to wave the lulav vary by community, the act of waving itself is treated as more than a mere “custom” in the halakhic literature. Although the halakha requires only lifting or holding the four species to fulfill the mitzva on a technical level, na’anu’im are the essential, even defining, aspect of arba minim. Two halakhot recorded in the Mishna, regarding a lulav’s minimum size and the appropriate age to begin performing the mitzva, make this clear:

לולב שיש בו שלשה טפחים כדי לנענע בו, כשר (משנה סוכה ג:א)

קטן היודע לנענע, חייב בלולב (משנה סוכה ג:טו)

Another tannaitic source (Tosefta Berakhot 3:19, quoted in Bavli Berakhot 30a) lists na’anu’im in parallel with blowing the shofar and reading the Megilla. As a shofar is clearly intended for blowing and a Megilla for reading, the purpose of the four species, in this formulation, is for waving:

היה משכים לצאת לדרך נוטל שופר ותוקע, לולב ומנענע, מגילה וקורא בהן ומתפלל. ולכשיגיע זמן קריאת שמע קורא.

It appears that נענועים, more than anything else, is the activity most naturally linked to the lulav.

The Talmud offers two reasons for waving the lulav, which it compares to the biblical תנופה, the waving of bread and sheep offerings on Shavuot (Sukka 37b, with modified Soncino translation below):

אמר רבי יוחנן: מוליך ומביא ־ למי שהארבע רוחות שלו, מעלה ומוריד ־ למי שהשמים והארץ שלו. במערבא מתנו הכי, אמר רבי חמא בר עוקבא אמר רבי יוסי ברבי חנינא: מוליך ומביא ־ כדי לעצור רוחות רעות, מעלה ומוריד ־ כדי לעצור טללים רעים. אמר רבי יוסי בר אבין, ואיתימא רבי יוסי בר זבילא: זאת אומרת ,שירי מצוה מעכבין את הפורענות. שהרי תנופה שירי מצוה היא, ועוצרת רוחות וטללים רעים. ואמר רבא: וכן בלולב. רב אחא בר יעקב ממטי ליה ומייתי ליה, אמר: דין גירא בעיניה דסטנא. ולאו מלתא היא, משום דאתי לאיגרויי ביה.

R. Johanan explained, One waves them to and fro in honor of Him to Whom the four directions belong, and up and down in acknowledgment of Him to Whom are Heaven and Earth. In the Land of Israel they taught us thus: R. Hama b. ‘Ukba stated in the name of R. Jose son of R. Hanina, He waves them to and fro in order to restrain harmful winds; up and down, in order to restrain harmful dews. R. Jose b. Abin, or, as some say, R. Jose b. Zebila, observed, This implies that even the ancillary parts of a commandment prevent calamities; for the waving is obviously an ancillary part of the commandment, and yet it shuts out harmful winds and harmful dews. In connection with this Raba remarked, And so with the lulav. R. Aha b. Jacob used to wave it to and fro, saying, ‘This is an arrow in the eye of Satan’. This, however, is not proper, since Satan might in consequence be provoked against him.

These reasons fit well with the major themes of Sukkot. As Sukkot is the holiday in which we pray for the upcoming rains, we can readily understand how shaking the lulav might be linked with the desire to “restrain harmful winds and dews.” It is also reasonable that on the biblical thanksgiving festival we hold a sampling of the harvest and ritually wave it in all directions, to acknowledge God’s omnipresence in the natural world. Medieval Talmudists have added to the list of reasons for waving. For example, Tosafot (Sukka 37b, s.v. Be-Hodu) cites the juxtaposition of verses in I Chron. (16:33-35) to account for the Mishna's requirement to wave the lulav at specific verses within the Hallel prayer:

אָז יְרַנְּנוּ עֲצֵי הַיָּעַר מִלִּפְנֵי ה’ כִּי-בָא לִשְׁפּוֹט אֶת-הָאָרֶץ: הוֹדוּ לַה’ כִּי טוֹב כִּי לְעוֹלָם חַסְדּוֹ: וְאִמְרוּ הוֹשִׁיעֵנוּ אֱ-לֹהֵי יִשְׁעֵנוּ וְקַבְּצֵנוּ וְהַצִּילֵנוּ מִן-הַגּוֹיִם לְהֹדוֹת לְשֵׁם קָדְשֶׁךָ לְהִשְׁתַּבֵּחַ בִּתְהִלָּתֶךָ:

In this view, shaking the lulav mimics treetops blowing around in the wind, a sign of nature’s joy and delight in God. By waving the lulav, we demonstrate how our songs of praise to God are in harmony with those of nature.

There are several biblical poems, especially in Psalms and Isaiah, where trees, mountains, and rivers "sing" (יְרַנְּנוּ) and "clap" (יִמְחֲאוּ-כָף) for God or for Israel:

יַעֲלֹז שָֹדַי וְכָל-אֲשֶׁר-בּוֹ אָז יְרַנְּנוּ כָּל-עֲצֵי-יָעַר)  תהלים צו:יב( 
הָרִיעוּ לַה' כָּל-הָאָרֶץ פִּצְחוּ וְרַנְּנוּ וְזַמֵּרוּ: זַמְּרוּ לַה' בְּכִנּוֹר בְּכִנּוֹר וְקוֹל זִמְרָה . . . נְהָרוֹת יִמְחֲאוּ-כָף יַחַד הָרִים יְרַנֵּנו)  תהלים צח:ד-ח(
הֶהָרִים וְהַגְּבָעוֹת יִפְצְחוּ לִפְנֵיכֶם רִנָּה וְכָל-עֲצֵי הַשָּׂדֶה יִמְחֲאוּ-כָף  )ישעיה נב:יב(

All these natural phenomena generate impressive sounds and, in the poet's imagination, joyful song; mountains also seem to sing as the wind rushes through their trees.

In one of its rabbinic usages, the word נענוע itself connotes song and music; e.g., Tosefta Sanhedrin 12:5:

רבי עקיבא אומר המנענע קולו בשיר השירים בבית המשתה ועושה אותו כמין זמר אין לו חלק לעולם הבא

A similar musical usage is employed by the author of a piyyut for Maariv on Shemini Azeret, שמיני אשפוך, when he refers to playing a new eighth string -- there were previously seven -- on the harp of the future Temple:

שמיני לעודף שמחה לראות / לנענע שמיני בעשותו נוראות

I recently came across an intriguing and novel approach to the origin of na’anu’im. Moshe Zeev Sole suggests that waving the four species comes from a desire to create a sort of artificial wind, to remind the angel appointed on the wind and rain to fulfill his annual duties.* He does not present any evidence for this claim. Leaving that aside, this theurgical interpretation – one which sees the ritual as an attempt to influence the behavior of a divinity – may make na’anu’im seem primitive and obsolete. Anyone claiming today that shaking the lulav will awaken a wind spirit would be regarded as a pagan heretic, if not just an outright fool. But, to be fair, a theurgical element also appears to underly the latter part of the Talmudic passage above, which refers to "restraining harmful winds and dews” and to shooting “an arrow in the eye of Satan” by means of waving the lulav (see Maharsha's commentary, ad loc.). In the end, however, the Talmud seems uncomfortable with the idea of using the lulav to fight Satan. Perhaps in an attempt to suppress any overtly theurgical component, it rejects R. Aha's practice of invoking Satan’s name explicitly during na’anu’im.

In fact, we are already familiar with the rain angel from another context in the Sukkot Machzor. He is mentioned in the opening line of Tefillat Geshem, recited on Shemini Azeret: אף ברי אותת שם שר מטר – “The prince of rain has been named Af Beri.” Although we do not address him directly, the שר מטר was clearly seen by Eleazar Ha-Kalir, the prayer's circa-seventh-century composer, as a prominent force in bringing rain.

When thinking about such theories regarding the origins of religious practices, it is important to distinguish between origin and meaning. Whatever the historical origin of a practice, its meaning is far more significant for the religious person. Meaning is highly subjective and can come from a variety of sources. For some, knowledge of the origin of a practice can enrich its meaning. But meaning should not be seen as a function only of origin. The fields of ta'ame ha-mitzvot and ta'ame ha-minhagim are dynamic and open to a wide range of creative thought because they deal not so much with origins as with meaning, which changes with time and place.

As modern people and as heirs to the rationalist tradition within Judaism, we tend – for good reason – to minimize the role of angels and demons in our traditions and literature. So it makes sense that the “wind angel” theory of na’anu’im would cause us some discomfort. On the other hand, even as moderns we can allow ourselves to be inspired by the idea of using a lulav to create a man-made musical wind – by itself, perhaps, and with apologies to any meteorological angel who may feel left out. It is not too distant, after all, from Tosafot’s suggestion that na’anu’im evokes the joining of nature’s personified song with man’s joyful song; of אָז יְרַנְּנוּ עֲצֵי הַיָּעַר in concert with הוֹדוּ לַה כִּי-טוֹב.

*Ha-Moadim Ve-Hamikra, Jerusalem:Mabat, 1985, pp. 83ff. The author (1908-1994) was trained at the Hildesheimer Rabbinical Seminary inBerlin and wrote several books on various topics in Philosophy andJewish Studies. A brief biography in David Tidhar's recently digitized Entziklopedia Le-Halutze Ha-Yishuv U-Vonav is available here.

Exchange of Letters re. 9/11 Concert at the Puffin Cultural Forum

2011-09-15T08:48:00.000-07:00

I wrote the letter below after attending a concert at the Puffin Cultural Forum in Teaneck on 9/11. It was published in the 9/15 issue of the Teaneck Suburbanite. Mari Ann Milwe, the Puffin's Artistic Director, responded in the 9/22 issue.

I wrote as an American, so this exchange is not directly relevant to the blog's overall theme. I include it here for general interest.

To the Editor,

It was a real treat to hear the pianist Jenny Lin perform in concert at the Puffin Cultural Forum. My wife and I truly enjoyed her performance and her explanatory introduction to the program.

However, I would like to express my extreme dismay over the gratuitous statement made by the woman representing the Puffin Cultural Forum who introduced Ms. Lin. In honor of 9/11, she said something like the following (I cannot cite the exact wording, but I am certain this was the general idea of her words): "We mourn the murders that occurred on this day as well as the murders which resulted from the response to this tragedy."

This seemed like a political statement disapproving of the aggressive military response to 9/11 and, in effect, morally equating the victims of 9/11 with the victims of the military response to 9/11. This individual is entitled to her views, but I question the propriety of making such an inflammatory remark at a public concert, on a national day of mourning for the victims of the 9/11 terror attacks.

David Zinberg

Teaneck

To the Editor,

I would like to respond to David Zinberg's letter to the editor (Sept. 15, Teaneck Suburbanite).

First, I would like to apologize if my introductory remark before the concert at the Puffin on Sept. 11 offended him or anyone.

I do not, however, apologize for the substance of my comment, which was the following: Today we mourn the people murdered on Sept. 11, 2001 and those who were murdered in response.

My use of the word 'murder' in my introductory remark was not gratuitous; rather it was a considered attempt to pierce the numbness created by the use of euphemistic language in connection with the human devastation of a war lasting 10 years. In my opinion, this soft language is used to make the unacceptable acceptable. According to The Iraq Body Count Project, 102,417 civilians were killed from March 2003 to August 2011.

Since war is a series of planned operations, I consider those deaths murders, exactly as I consider the deaths of the people in the World Trade Towers, The Pentagon, and on Flight 93, with the exception of the 19 hijackers whose deaths I would call suicides.

The entire weekend began with an art opening entitled Aftermath. The event was designed to encourage reflection, not just of the horrors of Sept. 11, 2001 but what has happened in the 10 years since.

Merri Ann Milwe
Artistic Director
Puffin Cultural Forum

Clouds of Honor

2011-08-28T12:28:00.000-07:00

בַּסֻּכֹּת תֵּשְׁבוּ שִׁבְעַת יָמִים כָּל-הָאֶזְרָח בְּיִשְֹרָאֵל יֵשְׁבוּ בַּסֻּכֹּת: לְמַעַן יֵדְעוּ דֹרֹתֵיכֶם כִּי בַסֻּכּוֹת הוֹשַׁבְתִּי אֶת-בְּנֵי יִשְֹרָאֵל בְּהוֹצִיאִי אוֹתָם מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם אֲנִי ה' אֱ-לֹהֵיכֶם:

Ye shall dwell in booths seven days; all that are Israelites born shall dwell in booths. That your generations may know that I made the children of Israel to dwell in booths, when I brought them out of the land of Egypt. I am the Lord your God. (Leviticus 23:42-43)

Where exactly does the Torah say that the Israelites constructed booths (or huts, or even tents) in the desert following the exodus? There is no specific record of such an event either in Exodus or in Deuteronomy. Yet, in this passage from Leviticus, it is mentioned almost as a given. This problem likely gave rise to a dispute among Hazal on the meaning of כִּי בַסֻּכּוֹת הוֹשַׁבְתִּי. An early midrash, in the Sifra (Emor 17:11), sets up the opposing views:

לְמַעַן יֵדְעוּ דֹרֹתֵיכֶם כִּי בַסֻּכּוֹת הוֹשַׁבְתִּי אֶת-בְּנֵי יִשְֹרָאֵל בְּהוֹצִיאִי אוֹתָם מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם. רבי אליעזר אומר סוכות ממש היו. רבי עקיבא אומר בַסֻּכּוֹת -- ענני כבוד היו

Rabbi Eliezer’s interpretation, סוכות ממש היו, that these were real, “bricks-and-mortar” structures, is based on a literal reading of this passage and disregards the lack of another biblical reference to the event. The identification of סוכות with divine clouds, on the other hand, seems quite non-literal and non-intuitive. Of course, there was the “pillar of cloud” which guided the Israelites through their travels in the desert (Ex. 13:21), and that clearly plays a part in R. Akiva’s position. But why make “clouds” out of “booths”? I will attempt to show that סוכות interpreted as “clouds of honor” has a solid basis in the biblical text, and is not merely the product of free-ranging midrashic creativity. I will also address the underlying meaning of this word linkage.

Our tradition has long taken the side of booths-as-clouds. This may be familiar from Rashi’s commentary on the Torah (Lev. 23:43), and young yeshiva students may not even be aware of an opposing view. Rashi’s comment on the phrase כִּי בַסֻּכּוֹת הוֹשַׁבְתִּי is categorical, stated in only two words: ענני כבוד (cf. Onkelos - אֲרֵי בִמְטָלַת עֲנָנִין אוֹתֵיבִית יַת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל). No allowance is made, as is common elsewhere in his commentary, for a davar aher -- an alternative explanation. Rashi’s position here is consistent with another comment he makes, on the Talmud, which takes for granted that “being surrounded by clouds of honor” is the literal meaning -- the peshat -- of the words כִּי בַסֻּכּוֹת הוֹשַׁבְתִּי. In an offhand remark within a discussion (Sukka 2a) on the maximum height of a sukka, Rashi adds the following:

למען ידעו ־ עשה סוכה שישיבתה ניכרת לך, דכתיב יֵדְעוּ כִּי בַסֻּכּוֹת הוֹשַׁבְתִּי ־ צויתי לישב, הכי דריש ליה. ואף על גב דאין יוצא מידי פשוטו דהיקף ענני כבוד, מיהו דרשינן ליה לדרשה.

We do not normally expect Halakha to weigh in on exegetical problems. In this case, however, “clouds of honor” has taken on something of a normative status; it is cited in both the Tur and Shulhan Arukh (OH 625) as the authoritative (and only) ta’am for the mitzva of sukka.

I stated earlier that outside of Leviticus the Bible makes no mention of booths being constructed following the exodus. But from the perspective of the Sages this is not completely accurate. Some among Hazal did, in fact, see such a reference in a passage from Exodus regarding the Israelites’ first encampment in the desert. The following midrash (Mekhilta, Bo 14) on וַיִּסְעוּ בְנֵי-יִשְֹרָאֵל מֵרַעְמְסֵס סֻכֹּתָה (Ex. 12:37) cites the dispute mentioned earlier on the word סוכות, quoting the views of the same protagonists, R. Eliezer and R. Akiva. Here, the midrash tries to account for סוכות as a place name:

וַיִּסְעוּ בְנֵי-יִשְֹרָאֵל מֵרַעְמְסֵס סֻכֹּתָה. סוכות ממש דכתיב (בראשית ל״ג:יז) וְיַעֲקֹב נָסַע סֻכֹּתָה, דברי רבי אליעזר. וחכמים אומרים אין סוכות אלא מקום שנאמר (שמות יג:כ), וַיִּסְעוּ מִסֻּכֹּת וַיַּחֲנוּ בְאֵתָם, מה איתם מקום אף סוכות מקום. רבי עקיבא אומר אין סוכות אלא ענני כבוד שנאמר (ישעיה ד:ה-ו) וּבָרָא ה' עַל כָּל-מְכוֹן הַר-צִיּוֹן וְעַל-מִקְרָאֶהָ עָנָן יוֹמָם וְעָשָׁן וְנֹגַהּ אֵשׁ לֶהָבָה לָיְלָה כִּי עַל-כָּל-כָּבוֹד חֻפָּה: וְסֻכָּה תִּהְיֶה לְצֵל-יוֹמָם מֵחֹרֶב וּלְמַחְסֶה וּלְמִסְתּוֹר מִזֶּרֶם וּמִמָּטָר.

Here we have three opinions regarding סוכות, where Israel camped between Ramses and Etam: It refers to real booths (Jacob also built booths, in a different location, and named the place סוכות); it is nothing more than a place name (just like Etam, the next station in the desert); or, in R. Akiva's view both here and in Leviticus, סוכות are clouds (Isaiah uses the words עָנָן and סֻכָּה in parallel).

Aside from the verse in Isaiah, several biblical poems use the words עָנָן and סֻכָּה, or their variations, in parallel or even within the same phrase. Here are four additional examples:

יָשֶׁת חשֶׁךְ סִתְרוֹ סְבִיבוֹתָיו סֻכָּתוֹ חֶשְׁכַת-מַיִם עָבֵי שְׁחָקִים (Psalms 18:12; cf. II Samuel 22:12)
פָּרַשֹ עָנָן לְמָסָךְ וְאֵשׁ לְהָאִיר לָיְלָה (Psalms 105:39)
אַף אִם-יָבִין מִפְרְשֵֹי-עָב תְּשֻׁאוֹת סֻכָּתוֹ (Job 36:29)
סַכּוֹתָה בֶעָנָן לָךְ מֵעֲבוֹר תְּפִלָּה (Lamentations 3:44)

Note that the image of clouds and booths (or tents) take on a variety of meanings in these verses. They are a veil which keeps God hidden from man (nos. 1,3), a canopy spread over Israel for protection (Isaiah 4:5-6 and no. 2), and, in an ironic play on the canopy metaphor, clouds become a barrier blocking Israel’s prayers after the Babylonian destruction of the Temple (no. 4). They represent both heavenly protection (God covering Israel) and the distance and mystery of the divine (God covering himself). But in all of these examples, עָנָן and סֻכָּה echo each other through the Bible’s use of parallelism and metaphor. This interplay of images surely contributed to reading כִּי בַסֻּכּוֹת הוֹשַׁבְתִּי as heavenly clouds especially since הוֹשַׁבְתִּי, "I made to dwell," implies an entirely divine dwelling.

There is also a very strong contextual link between עָנָן and סֻכָּה in Exodus (12:20-23), within the “pillar of cloud” passage:

וַיִּסְעוּ מִסֻּכֹּת וַיַּחֲנוּ בְאֵתָם בִּקְצֵה הַמִּדְבָּר: וַה’ הֹלֵךְ לִפְנֵיהֶם יוֹמָם בְּעַמּוּד עָנָן לַנְחֹתָם הַדֶּרֶךְ וְלַיְלָה בְּעַמּוּד אֵשׁ לְהָאִיר לָהֶם לָלֶכֶת יוֹמָם וָלָיְלָה: לֹא-יָמִישׁ עַמּוּד הֶעָנָן יוֹמָם וְעַמּוּד הָאֵשׁ לָיְלָה לִפְנֵי הָעָם:

In this case, the link is based on the interpretive technique of contiguous verses, semikhut pesukim. Note how the verse about the divine cloud immediately follows the report of the journey from Sukkot to Etam. I believe this suggested to R. Akiva, possibly more than any other clue, that Sukkot -- the very first station outside of Egypt -- was the location where the pillar of cloud first appeared. Sukkot (the place) must have been named for this great providential event; that is, in honor of divine clouds, rather than man-made tents, which are absent from the exodus narrative. And, painting with a broad exegetical stroke, R. Akiva concluded that בַסֻּכּוֹת הוֹשַׁבְתִּי also refers to divine clouds. When the Torah tells us that Sukkot (the holiday) recalls “that I made the children of Israel to dwell בַסֻּכּוֹת when I brought them out of the land of Egypt,” it refers literally to the time they left Egypt, i.e., when they arrived at Sukkot (I was pleased to discover that David Zvi Hoffmann has a similar approach in Das Buch Leviticus, 1906; Hebrew edition, Sefer Vayikra, Jerusalem, 1976, v. 2, p. 207).

Some thoughts on the meaning of "clouds of honor":

The ענני כבוד of Hazal are based on biblical imagery, but only on a subset of the images above. Their clouds are intimate and protective rather than numinous or glorious. They represent the Shekhina in its familiar, maternal form. These are not the same clouds which descended on Sinai accompanied by fire and thunder, or which filled the Tabernacle and Solomon's Temple when they were dedicated. When God appears in a cloud, the Bible often calls his presence 'כְבוֹד ה (e.g., Ex. 16:10, 24:17, 40:34). The King James Version translates this phrase as the "glory of God." But the ענני כבוד of the Sages are different. Rather than a symbol of God's overwhelming glory, they represent God's love and -- as a consequence of that love -- the honor he gives to Israel. The Mekhilta (Petihta Beshalah) states that the pillar of cloud was a widely visible display of affection designed to honor Israel in the eyes of the nations - כך הודיע הקב״ה חבתן של ישראל לאומות העולם שהוא בעצמו הלך לפניהם שיהיו נוהגים עמהם בכבוד. Therefore, the "כבוד" in ענני כבוד belongs to Israel, rather than to God. For this reason I chose to translate this term as "clouds of honor" rather than "clouds of glory." (The contrast between glory and honor is wonderfully illustrated in the KJV's dual translation of כבוד within a single biblical verse, Prov. 25:2: כְּבֹד אֱלֹהִים הַסְתֵּר דָּבָר וּכְבֹד מְלָכִים חֲקֹר דָּבָר - KJV: "It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honour of kings is to search out a matter").

Several midrashim associate the clouds of honor with parental or even romantic imagery from the Bible. In one, Hazal use an image, drawn from the Ha'azinu poem, of God enveloping Israel in the desert as a mother or father shields a young child:

(Deuteronomy 32:10) יִמְצָאֵהוּ בְּאֶרֶץ מִדְבָּר וּבְתֹהוּ יְלֵל יְשִׁמֹן יְסֹבֲבֶנְהוּ יְבוֹנֲנֵהוּ יִצְּרֶנְהוּ כְּאִישׁוֹן עֵינוֹ

(Bemidbar Rabba 2:6) יְסֹבֲבֶנְהוּ - שהקיפן בענני כבוד

In an even more intimate metaphor, they see the clouds of honor allegorized by the lover's surrounding embrace in Shir Ha-Shirim (2:6; Midrash Zuta, ed. Buber, 2):

שְֹמֹאלוֹ תַּחַת לְרֹאשִׁי. אלו ענני הכבוד שהיו מקיפים את ישראל מלמעלה ומלמטה

In yet another midrash (Shir Ha-Shirim Rabba 2) on the same verse from Shir Ha-Shirim, סוכות and clouds are again tied together, though here the divine clouds are in Israel's future rather than its past:

שְֹמֹאלוֹ תַּחַת לְרֹאשִׁי, זו סוכה, וִימִינוֹ תְּחַבְּקֵנִי, זה ענן שכינה לעתיד לבא הה"ד (ישעיהו ס') לֹא-יִהְיֶה-לָּךְ עוֹד הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ לְאוֹר יוֹמָם וּלְנֹגַהּ הַיָּרֵחַ לֹא-יָאִיר לָךְ. מי מאיר לך? (שם) וְהָיָה-לָךְ ה' לְאוֹר עוֹלָם.

"A Wise and Understanding People"

2011-08-14T15:36:00.000-07:00

וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם וַעֲשִֹיתֶם כִּי הִוא חָכְמַתְכֶם וּבִינַתְכֶם לְעֵינֵי הָעַמִּים אֲשֶׁר יִשְׁמְעוּן אֵת כָּל-הַחֻקִּים הָאֵלֶּה וְאָמְרוּ רַק עַם-חָכָם וְנָבוֹן הַגּוֹי הַגָּדוֹל הַזֶּה: כִּי מִי-גוֹי גָּדוֹל אֲשֶׁר-לוֹ אֱ-לֹהִים קְרֹבִים אֵלָיו כַּה' אֱ-לֹהֵינוּ בְּכָל-קָרְאֵנוּ אֵלָיו: וּמִי גּוֹי גָּדוֹל אֲשֶׁר-לוֹ חֻקִּים וּמִשְׁפָּטִים צַדִּיקִם כְּכֹל הַתּוֹרָה הַזֹּאת אֲשֶׁר אָנֹכִי נֹתֵן לִפְנֵיכֶם הַיּוֹם

Keep therefore and do them; for this is your wisdom and your understanding in the sight of the nations, which shall hear all these statutes, and say, surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people. For what nation is there so great, who hath God so nigh unto them, as the Lord our God is in all things that we call upon him for? And what nation is there so great, that hath statutes and judgments so righteous as all this law, which I set before you this day?

In its simplest reading, this passage (Deuteronomy 4:6-8) states that knowledge of the mitzvot will naturally elicit admiration for Israel from the nations. It thus presumes that the commandments have a universal, even self-evident, quality. It is as if to say, when it comes to the Torah, what’s not to like?

The idea that the world can easily identify with our laws is not at all obvious. In fact, we have been taught from an early age that the moral barriers between Israel and the nations are too high to overcome. When God offered the Torah to each of Israel’s neighbors, as we know from the oft-repeated midrash, they rejected it as fundamentally incompatible with their core beliefs and practices.

This latter view may have led some among Hazal to minimize the scope of the verses above. For example, Rabbi Shmuel (Shabbat 75a) attributes the “wisdom and understanding” of this passage to a narrow aspect of the law, astronomical and calendrical calculation, an undeniably universal branch of wisdom:

אמר רבי שמואל בר נחמני אמר רבי יוחנן: מנין שמצוה על האדם לחשב תקופות ומזלות? ־ שנאמר (דברים ד) ושמרתם ועשיתם כי היא חכמתכם ובינתכם לעיני העמים. איזו חכמה ובינה שהיא לעיני העמים? ־ הוי אומר זה חישוב תקופות ומזלות

The knowledge of an empirical, objective science such as astronomy may impress the nations, but there is nothing in the laws of Shabbat and kashrut that could achieve the same result.

The Rambam, on the other hand, has a maximalist reading of these verses. He cites them in the Moreh Nevukhim (III:31) within his impassioned argument for the existence of intelligible reasons for all the mitzvot, including the hukkim. After all, he says, the hukkim are singled out in this passage:

. . . The sole object of the Law is to benefit us. Thus we explained the Scriptural passage, "for our good always, that He might preserve us alive, as it is this day" (Deut. 6:24). Again, "which shall hear all those statutes (hukkim), and say, surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people" (ibid. 4:6). He thus says that even every one of these "statutes" convinces all nations of the wisdom and understanding it includes. But if no reason could be found for these statutes, if they produced no advantage and removed no evil, why then should he who believes in them and follows them be wise, reasonable, and so excellent as to raise the admiration of all nations? But the truth is undoubtedly as we have said, that every one of the six hundred and thirteen precepts serves to inculcate some truth, to remove some erroneous opinion, to establish proper relations in society, to diminish evil, to train in good manners or to warn against bad habits.

This view suits a medieval rationalist such as Maimonides, with his full confidence in the rational basis of the mitzvot. Since the ta’am of every mitzva is based on some universally accepted good, it is only natural that the mitzvot display “wisdom and understanding” that can be universally acknowledged.

It is interesting to contrast this view with that of the Netziv (R. Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin, Ha'amek Davar, Deut. 4:6). Like the amora R. Shmuel, he too narrows the subject of these verses, but in a different way. For the Netziv, they refer to the oral law, i.e., the Talmud. The oral rather than the written law, he says, will one day be seen as the defining achievement of the Jewish people in the eyes of the world, as the logic and methodology of the oral law -- this, according to the Netziv, is how one should interpret the word hukkim -- are clearly the product of Israel’s “wisdom and understanding.” The ever-expanding Talmud, even more than the written Torah, will bring honor to the Jewish people:

As you continuously add to the abundance of the (oral) law, over and above the written law, the nations of the world will be amazed (to discover) how expansive and exalted (the oral law) is, due to the wisdom and understanding of Israel.

"Be-Esek Atevata" - The Origin and Meaning of a Misunderstood Phrase in Akdamut

2011-05-23T17:26:00.000-07:00

Akdamut Milin begins with soaring images, first of God and his heavenly retinue, and then of Israel who, the poet insists, is by comparison superior to the angels. The poet then transitions to a new scene, declaring that he will praise God “before kings”:

שְׁבַח ריבון עַלְמָא, אֲמִירָא דַכְוָתָא:
שְׁפַר עֲלֵיהּ לְחַווּיֵהּ, בְּאַפֵּי מַלְכְּוָתָא:

For me, the most moving part of Akdamut is within the lines which immediately follow. They contain a dialogue – really a sort of poetic disputation – between the nations and Israel. Intended, perhaps, to reflect the insecurity of the Jewish experience, the shift in the poem is unexpected and jarring. Interrupting a blissful, dream-like vision, the poet describes an ingathering of the nations, “like waves,” who ideologically accost Israel. Although they approach with a tone of benign curiosity and even admiration for Israel's religious devotion, a call for assimilation quickly follows:

(1) תָּאִין וּמִתְכַּנְשִׁין, כְּחֵיזוּ אַדְוָתָא:
(2) תְּמֵהִין וְשַׁיְילִין לֵיהּ, בְּעֵסֶק אַתְוָתָא:
(3) מְנָן וּמָאן הוּא רְחִימָךְ, שַׁפִּירָא בְּרֵיוָתָא:
(4) אֲרוּם בְּגִינֵהּ סָפִית, מְדוֹר אַרְיְוָתָא:
(5) יְקָרָא וְיָאָה אַתְּ אִין תַּעַרְבִי לְמַרְוָתָא:
(6) רְעוּתֵךְ נַעֲבֵיד לִיךְ, בְּכָל אַתְרְוָתָא:

My translation:

(1) They come forward and gather, like waves

(2) With wonder, inquire about her signs:

(3) “Where and who is your beloved, most beautiful among women,

(4) For whose sake you dwell in the lions’ den?

(5) You are so dear and lovely; if you would only join us

(6) We would carry out your every wish, everywhere”

The major commentaries on Akdamut[1] have successfully interpreted and identified the origins of each phrase in this section except, I believe, for the words בְּעֵסֶק אַתְוָתָא in line 2. After introducing the midrashim behind this passage as a whole, I will offer my own view on the origin and meaning of this phrase.

These six lines are inspired by midrashim on a passage from Shir Ha-Shirim (5:9 – 6:3). In the peshat reading (see Rashi), it is a dialogue between the beloved woman and the “daughters of Jerusalem.” Below is the text separated by speaker:

The Beloved:

הִשְׁבַּעְתִּי אֶתְכֶם בְּנוֹת יְרוּשָׁלִָם אִם תִּמְצְאוּ אֶת דּוֹדִי מַה תַּגִּידוּ לוֹ שֶׁחוֹלַת אַהֲבָה אָנִי:

Daughters of Jerusalem:

מַה דּוֹדֵךְ מִדּוֹד הַיָּפָה בַּנָּשִׁים מַה דּוֹדֵךְ מִדּוֹד שֶׁכָּכָה הִשְׁבַּעְתָּנוּ:

The Beloved:

דּוֹדִי צַח וְאָדוֹם דָּגוּל מֵרְבָבָה:

רֹאשׁוֹ כֶּתֶם פָּז קְוֻצּוֹתָיו תַּלְתַּלִּים שְׁחֹרוֹת כָּעוֹרֵב:

עֵינָיו כְּיוֹנִים עַל אֲפִיקֵי מָיִם רֹחֲצוֹת בֶּחָלָב יֹשְׁבוֹת עַל מִלֵּאת:

לְחָיָו כַּעֲרוּגַת הַבֹּשֶׂם מִגְדְּלוֹת מֶרְקָחִים שִׂפְתוֹתָיו שׁוֹשַׁנִּים נֹטְפוֹת מוֹר עֹבֵר:

יָדָיו גְּלִילֵי זָהָב מְמֻלָּאִים בַּתַּרְשִׁישׁ מֵעָיו עֶשֶׁת שֵׁן מְעֻלֶּפֶת סַפִּירִים:

שׁוֹקָיו עַמּוּדֵי שֵׁשׁ מְיֻסָּדִים עַל אַדְנֵי פָז מַרְאֵהוּ כַּלְּבָנוֹן בָּחוּר כָּאֲרָזִים:

חִכּוֹ מַמְתַקִּים וְכֻלּוֹ מַחֲמַדִּים זֶה דוֹדִי וְזֶה רֵעִי בְּנוֹת יְרוּשָׁלִָם:

Daughters of Jerusalem:

אָנָה הָלַךְ דּוֹדֵךְ הַיָּפָה בַּנָּשִׁים אָנָה פָּנָה דוֹדֵךְ וּנְבַקְשֶׁנּוּ עִמָּךְ:

The Beloved:

דּוֹדִי יָרַד לְגַנּוֹ לַעֲרוּגוֹת הַבֹּשֶׂם לִרְעוֹת בַּגַּנִּים וְלִלְקֹט שׁוֹשַׁנִּים:

אֲנִי לְדוֹדִי וְדוֹדִי לִי הָרֹעֶה בַּשּׁוֹשַׁנִּים:

The beloved woman begs the Jerusalemites to find her love and to tell him of her longing. They ask, מַה דּוֹדֵךְ מִדּוֹד – how may we identify him? In response, she provides detailed signs, in seven lines of verse, of his beauty and charm. In the allegory, the woman is Israel, the דּוֹד is God, and the daughters of Jerusalem represent the nations. Below is a Midrash Mekhilta inspired by these verses (Mekhilta De-Rabbi Yishmael, Beshalah, Shira, 3; ed. Horowitz-Rabin, p. 127). The Akdamut passage above draws heavily from this and, as will be shown, other midrashic sources. The verses taken from the relevant section of Shir Ha-Shirim are highlighted:

זה אלי . . . ר' עקיבא אומר אדבר בנאותיו ובשבחיו של מי שאמר והיה העולם בפני כל אומות העולם. שהרי אומות העולם שואלין את ישראל לומר מה דודך מדוד שככה השבעתנו (שה"ש ה ט) שכך אתם מתים עליו וכך אתם נהרגין עליו שנ' על כן עלמות אהבוך (שם א ג) אהבוך עד מות, וכתיב כי עליך הורגנו כל היום (תהלים מד כג). הרי אתם נאים, הרי אתם גבורים, בואו והתערבו עמנו. וישראל אומרים להם לאומות העולם, מכירין אתם אותו[2] נאמר לכם מקצת שבחו: דודי צח ואדום דגול מרבבה (שה"ש ה י). כיון ששומעין שכך שבחו אומרים לישראל נלכה עמכם שנ' אנה הולך דודך היפה בנשים אנה פנה דודך ונבקשנו עמך (שם ו א .(וישראל אומרים להם אין לכם חלק בו אלא דודי לי ואני לו וגו' (שם ב טז) אני לדודי ודודי לי הרועה בשושנים (שם ו ג .(

Beginning with lines 3-6 of the Akdamut passage, note how each phrase has a source either in the text of Shir Ha-Shirim or in the midrash:

(3)מְנָן וּמָאן הוּא רְחִימָךְ, שַׁפִּירָא בְּרֵיוָתָא --- מַה דּוֹדֵךְ מִדּוֹד הַיָּפָה בַּנָּשִׁים

(4)אֲרוּם בְּגִינֵהּ סָפִית, מְדוֹר אַרְיְוָתָא --- שכך אתם מתים עליו וכך אתם נהרגין עליו

(5/6)יְקָרָא וְיָאָה אַתְּ אִין, תַּעַרְבִי לְמַרְוָתָא / רְעוּתֵךְ נַעֲבֵיד לִיךְ, בְּכָל אַתְרְוָתָא --- הרי אתם נאים, הרי אתם גבורים, בואו והתערבו עמנו

The expression in line 4 מְדוֹר אַרְיְוָתָא – "the lions’ den" – is itself based on a verse located elsewhere in Shir Ha-Shirim. According to Shemot Rabba (23:5), the words ממעונות אריות מהררי נמרים (4:8) are said to refer to the various exiles.

We now have to account for lines 1-2 in our Akdamut passage. Not surprisingly, line 1 – תָּאִין וּמִתְכַּנְשִׁין, כְּחֵיזוּ אַדְוָתָא – also derives from midrashim on Shir Ha-Shirim (Bemidbar Rabba 2:16):

ד"א והיה במקום וגו' הה"ד (שיר השירים ח ז) מים רבים לא יוכלו לכבות את האהבה וגו' ואומר אם יתן איש את וגו' אמר רבי שמואל בר נחמן בשתי אהבות הכתוב הזה מדבר. ראשו מדבר באהבתו של ישראל. שאם יתכנסו כל אומות העולם ליטול את האהבה שבינו לבין ישראל אינן יכולין, שנאמר מים רבים לא יוכלו לכבות את האהבה ואין מים רבים אלא אומות העולם שנאמר (ישעיה יז יב) הוי המון עמים רבים וגו'. ונהרות לא ישטפוה אלו הם המלכים והשרים שלהם כמו שנאמר (שם ח ז) ולכן הנה ה' מעלה עליהם את מי הנהר העצומים והרבים וגו'

In line 1, the poet evokes an image of the nations assaulting Israel "like waves” – כְּחֵיזוּ אַדְוָתָא. This simile is taken from the “great waters” – מים רבים – of Shir Ha-Shirim 8:7, representing the nations:

(1)תָּאִין וּמִתְכַּנְשִׁין, כְּחֵיזוּ אַדְוָתָא --- מים רבים לא יוכלו לכבות את האהבה וגו' . . . שאם יתכנסו כל אומות העולם ליטול את האהבה . . .ואין מים רבים אלא אומות העולם . . .

Finally, line 2 of the Akdamut passage – תְּמֵהִין וְשַׁיְילִין לֵיהּ, בְּעֵסֶק אַתְוָתָא – begs for explanation. Specifically, what does the poet mean by בְּעֵסֶק אַתְוָתָא? To which “signs” (אַתְוָתָא = אותות) does he refer?

Some commentaries on Akdamut translate אַתְוָתָא as "miracles." But that is completely unsatisfying, since this section of the poem does not address miracles per se. Furthermore, there is no reference to miracles in the source-midrashim we have cited. If "miracles" were the correct translation, this line would be an aberration, as every other phrase in the six lines under discussion echoes specific language used in the midrashim. Taking a different approach, a popular translation of the Mahzor renders אַתְוָתָא as “proofs”; i.e., in view of Israel’s endless suffering in exile, the nations demand proof that God still plans to send the Messiah to redeem her.[3] This interpretation has much merit, since it is contextual with the nations’ line of questioning – אֲרוּם בְּגִינֵהּ סָפִית, מְדוֹר אַרְיְוָתָא. It also draws on the question of Israel’s election after the exile, an important theme in Christian-Jewish disputation and, no doubt, one which implicitly underlies the poem. Still, it seems far-fetched.

I believe, instead, that the correct interpretation of בְּעֵסֶק אַתְוָתָא can be derived directly from Bemidbar Rabba 2:4:

איש על דגלו באותות הה"ד (שיר השירים ו) מי זאת הנשקפה וגו' קדושים וגדולים היו ישראל בדגליהם וכל האומות מסתכלין בהם ותמהין ואומרים מי זאת הנשקפה וגו' אומרים להם האומות שובי שובי השולמית הדבקו לנו בואו אצלנו ואנו עושין אתכם שלטונים הגמונים דוכסין אפרכין אסטרטליטין, שובי שובי ונחזה בך ואין נחזה אלא שררה שכן אמר יתרו למשה (שמות יט) ואתה תחזה וגו' שובי שובי ונחזה בך וישראל אומר מה תחזו בשולמית מה גדולה אתם נותנים לנו שמא כמחולת המחנים שמא יכולים אתם לעשות לנו כגדולה שעשה האלהים במדבר דגל מחנה יהודה דגל מחנה ראובן דגל מחנה דן דגל מחנה אפרים יכולים אתם לעשות לנו כך, מה תחזו בשולמית מה גדולה אתם נותנים לנו שמא כמחולת המחנים שמא יכולים אתם ליתן לנו כגדולה שעשה לנו האלהים במדבר שהיינו חוטאים והוא מוחל לנו ואומר לנו והיה מחניך קדוש, אף בלעם הביט בהם ויצאה עינו כנגדן שלא היה יכול ליגע בהם שנאמר (במדבר כד) וישא בלעם את עיניו אלו הם הדגלים התחיל אומר מי יכול ליגע בבני אדם אלו מכירין את אבותיהם ואת משפחותיהם שנאמר (שם) שוכן לשבטיו

This midrash is a discourse on the flags, or "signs" of the tribes, as described in Parashat Naso (Num. 2:2). The Torah uses the expression אִישׁ עַל-דִּגְלוֹ בְאֹתֹת. In Hazal's reading, the sight of Israel encamped by tribe and by flag was viewed by the nations with astonishment. Balaam, when he viewed this scene, was inspired to recite magnificent poetic prophecy -- וַיַּרְא אֶת-יִשְֹרָאֵל שֹׁכֵן לִשְׁבָטָיו וַתְּהִי עָלָיו רוּחַ אֱ-לֹהִים (Num. 24:2). The nations in Shir Ha-Shirim react in similar fashion: מִי-זֹאת הַנִּשְׁקָפָה כְּמוֹ-שָׁחַר יָפָה כַלְּבָנָה בָּרָה כַּחַמָּה אֲיֻמָּה כַּנִּדְגָּלוֹת (SHS 6:10). The word nigdalot in this verse is taken to refer to the degalim, the flags of the tribes. We may conclude, then, that these are the "signs" -- אַתְוָתָא -- to which the poet refers in line 2 of our Akdamut passage:

(2)תְּמֵהִין וְשַׁיְילִין לֵיהּ, בְּעֵסֶק אַתְוָתָא .איש על דגלו באותות--- הה"ד מי זאת הנשקפה וגו' קדושים וגדולים היו ישראל בדגליהם וכל האומות מסתכלין בהם ותמהין ואומרים מי זאת הנשקפה וגו’

In this line, the nations inquire about Israel's signs, rather than God's signs. The standard commentaries (see note 1) understood וְשַׁיְילִין לֵיהּ in line 2 as having the same object as the next line, i.e., the nations question Israel about God, in the same way that מְנָן וּמָאן הוּא רְחִימָךְ in line 3 refers to God. They thus translated אַתְוָתָא as God's signs, the miracles. However, I believe the passage above from Bemidbar Rabba 2:4 requires us to read line 2 as directed toward Israel. In the Akdamut narrative, the nations are taken aback when they see the the tribes and speak (among themselves) with wonder about Israel's "signs" -- איש על דגלו באותות -- just as in Shir Ha-Shirim, the nations ask מִי-זֹאת הַנִּשְׁקָפָה כְּמוֹ-שָׁחַר. . . אֲיֻמָּה כַּנִּדְגָּלוֹת. In the next line, line 3, the object of their questions changes and they ask מְנָן וּמָאן הוּא רְחִימָךְ -- parallel to מַה דּוֹדֵךְ מִדּוֹד הַיָּפָה בַּנָּשִׁים and אנה הולך דודך היפה בנשים.

I have yet to identify a specific midrashic source for the word עֵסֶק in בְּעֵסֶק אַתְוָתָא.

[1] Mahzor Le-Hag Ha-Shavuot, ed. Wolf Heidenheim, Sulzbach, 1841, pp. 39ff.; Issachar Jacobson, Netiv Bina, vol 4., Tel Aviv, 1978 pp. 105ff.; Mahzor Shavuot, ed. Yonah Frankel, Jerusalem, 2000, pp. 385ff.

[2] The dialogue flows more smoothly in the alternate version of Mekhilta De-Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai, which instead reads אי אתם מכירין אותו.

[3] The Complete ArtScroll Machzor – Shavuos, Brooklyn, 1995, p. 269. In the notes, this idea is attributed to Mevo Ha-Shir, authored by Shmuel Hayyim Yellin, Pietrokow, 1926. The author of this commentary on Akdamut further suggests that בְּעֵסֶק אַתְוָתָא means “on the matter of the arrival” (of the Messiah), as the Targum of va-yavo is ve-ata. The text is viewable on hebrewbooks.org, here.

Dairy on Shavuot

2011-05-13T10:26:00.000-07:00

Some holiday customs are, lehavdil, like difficult biblical texts. They have been practiced for centuries, but their origins and meaning remain obscure. We "read" them yearly, even if we may not fully understand their significance. And, much like biblical exegesis, the interpretation of customs (ta'ame ha-minhagim) may utilize the full range of exegetical methods, from peshat to mystical symbolism.

Eating dairy on Shavuot is an example of a near-universal custom whose meaning is far from obvious. When mentioned in the halakhic literature, one or more te'amim normally follow immediately. This is quite reasonable, since dairy is not on the list of biblical or rabbinic themes of Shavuot, which includes first fruits, the wheat harvest, the offering of the two loaves, matan Torah, and Mount Sinai. Moreover, the custom is not mentioned in the Talmud or the Geonim. Compare this, for example, to eating symbolic foods on Rosh Hashana, which has a Talmudic source and where the connection between the custom and the holiday is much more apparent.

Although, in the words of the Magen Avraham (Orah Hayyim 494:3, n. 6), "there are numerous reasons" for eating dairy on Shavuot, few are satisfying. In this essay, I will discuss only a small selection of reasons, and add some of my own thoughts to the discussion.

The Rema in the Shulhan Arukh provides the following explanation:

:רמ"א או"ח תצ"ד:ג

ונוהגין בכמה מקומות לאכול מאכלי חלב ביום ראשון של שבועות ונ״ל הטעם שהוא כמו השני תבשילין שלוקחים בליל פסח זכר לפסח וזכר לחגיגה כן אוכלים מאכל חלב ואח״כ מאכל בשר וצריכין להביא עמהם ב׳ לחם על השלחן שהוא במקום המזבח ויש בזה זכרון לב׳ הלחם שהיו מקריבין ביום הבכורים

In this completely original "halakhic midrash," the Rema connects the custom of eating dairy to minhat bikurim, the two loaves of wheat bread offered in the Temple on Shavuot. When eating a dairy meal followed by a meat meal, one will use two separate loaves of bread. Eating an additional dairy meal on Shavuot thus helps recall shete ha-lehem.

Another explanation for having dairy on Shavuot associates dairy with matan Torah. It is the most familiar explanation in the literature and in popular culture. There are a couple of variations, but its gist is that the kashrut laws received at Sinai required the Israelites to abandon their now-treif vessels, and to practice vegetarianism (for a day) until their meat utensils could be kashered. This explanation is cited and endorsed by the Mishna Berura which, no doubt, is a major factor in its current popularity:

משנה ברורה הלכות פסח סימן תצד ,סקי"ב:

עיין מ״א. ואני שמעתי עוד בשם גדול אחד שאמר טעם נכון לזה, כי בעת שעמדו על הר סיני וקבלו התורה [כי בעשרת הדברות נתגלה להם עי״ז כל חלקי התורה כמו שכתב רב סעדיה גאון שבעשרת הדברות כלולה כל התורה] וירדו מן ההר לביתם לא מצאו מה לאכול תיכף כ״א מאכלי חלב, כי לבשר צריך הכנה רבה לשחוט בסכין בדוק כאשר צוה ה׳ ולנקר חוטי החלב והדם ולהדיח ולמלוח ולבשל בכלים חדשים, כי הכלים שהיו להם מקודם שבישלו בהם באותו מעל״ע נאסרו להם ע״כ בחרו להם לפי שעה מאכלי חלב ואנו עושין זכר לזה

In similar fashion to the Rema, this novel halakha-based "midrash" links dairy with kabbalat ha-Torah, a recognizable feature of Shavuot.

The hiddush of the anonymous "גדול אחד" cited by the Mishna Berura was apparently popular in early Hasidic circles. It is recorded in Geulat Yisrael, an anthology of commentaries attributed to first and second-generation Hasidic masters, first published in 1821 (cited in this context in Abraham Y. Sperling's Ta'ame Ha-Minhagim u-Mekore ha-Dinim, Jerusalem, 1957, p. 281). After listing some of the prevalent reasons for eating dairy, and noting the flaws of each, the author of Geulat Yisrael offers the original ta'am quoted by the Mishna Berura. (Geulat Yisrael is accessible on hebrewbooks.org; the relevant passage can be viewed here).

Although widely cited, the non-kosher-dishes theory is a relatively late explanation for a much older custom. In addition, it has a very anachronistic feel to it. Issachar Jacobson calls it "weak" (rofef), noting that the Israelites ate manna, rather than meat, before arriving at Mt. Sinai (Netiv Bina, vol. 4, Tel Aviv, 1978, p. 154; note that Jacobson quotes the ta'am in the name Sperling and Geulat Yisrael, rather than the Mishna Berura).

As mentioned, there is no reference to dairy on Shavuot in the literature of Hazal. It appears, rather, to be medieval in origin. Avigdor Ha-Zarefati, a late Tosafist of the twelfth-century, is the first to mention it (Perushim u-Pesakim al Ha-Torah, Jerusalem, 1996, p. 478. Thanks go to Marc B. Shapiro for this reference). The remainder of this essay will discuss the earliest recorded sources for the custom and I will offer my own thoughts on its origin and meaning.

The anonymous Kol Bo, authored according to current consensus by Abraham ha-Kohen of Lunel in the early 14th century, is one of the oldest printed sources for the custom. The author, who also wrote the Orhot Hayyim, was exiled from France in the expulsion of 1306 and emigrated to Majorca, off the coast of northern Spain. Kol Bo records the custom of eating both milk and honey on Shavuot:

:ספר כלבו סימן נב

גם נהגו לאכול דבש וחלב בחג שבועות מפני התורה שנמשלה לדבש וחלב כמו שכתוב (שיר השירים ד, יא) דבש וחלב תחת לשונך

In Hazal's allegorical reading, the phrase דבש וחלב תחת לשונך (Song of Songs 4:11) is a metaphor either for Torah study, or for Israel's unconditional acceptance of the Torah at Sinai. See, for example, the passage below from Tanhuma (ed. Buber, Ki Tisa, 9):

דבש וחלב תחת לשונך, אימתי בשעה שאת עסוקה בתורה. ד״א דבש וחלב תחת לשונך, בשעה שעמדו לפני הר סיני ואמרו כל אשר דבר ה׳ נעשה ונשמע (שמות כד ז), באותה שעה אמר להם הקב״ה דבש וחלב תחת לשונך

Another 14th-century work, the Tzeda La-Derekh, refers to both milk and honey, and it too cites the verse above as the ta'am ha-minhag (Warsaw, 1880, p. 215). The author, Menahem ben Zerah, was from a family of refugees from the French expulsion of 1306, and lived in various Spanish communities. Note that Avigdor Ha-Zarefati mentions only dairy so, although it is possible, I am not suggesting that the earliest custom was milk and honey. But there is enough evidence to say that milk-and-honey, as a unit, was popular in parts of France and Spain during the very early history of this custom.

Taking milk and honey together, I would like to offer two new peshat-oriented te'amim. I welcome any comments.

1. A ta'am based on Scripture can be found in the context of bikurim, a central biblical feature of Shavuot. The mikra bikurim at the beginning of Parashat Ki Tavo concludes with the following words (Deut. 26:9-10):

וַיְבִאֵנוּ אֶל-הַמָּקוֹם הַזֶּה וַיִּתֶּן-לָנוּ אֶת-הָאָרֶץ הַזֹּאת אֶרֶץ זָבַת חָלָב וּדְבָשׁ: וְעַתָּה הִנֵּה הֵבֵאתִי אֶת-רֵאשִׁית פְּרִי הָאֲדָמָה אֲשֶׁר-נָתַתָּה לִּי ה’

I do not know of any source which cites this verse in the context of the Shavuot custom, but I believe it is a natural fit. Shavuot was associated with the wheat harvest and was the first opportunity on the calendar to offer first fruits in the Temple. It is the appropriate time to praise God for the land and its produce. It is possible that the expression אֶרֶץ זָבַת חָלָב וּדְבָשׁ -- used here and elsewhere in Tanakh as a motto for the Land of Israel -- gave rise to a custom of eating both milk and honey to recall Shavuot as the holiday of the first fruits of Eretz Yisrael.

We could take this thought a bit further, though we would be entering the realm of midrash. Recall that the verses above from mikra bikurim immediately follow the verses at the core of the maggid in the Passover Haggada. Taking Shavuot as the final phase of Passover (the idea of Shavuot as an "atzeret" or conclusion of Passover), one could argue that on Shavuot we "complete" the maggid by "reading" the very next verse in mikra bikurim, i.e., by having milk and honey. Note as well that the words וַיְבִאֵנוּ אֶל-הַמָּקוֹם הַזֶּה recall וְהֵבֵאתִי אֶתְכֶם אֶל-הָאָרֶץ (Ex. 6:8), the “fifth expression of redemption” which completes the exodus.

2. As mentioned, the midrash uses milk and honey as a metaphor for Torah study. Hazal apply the same expression specifically to the "hidden" Torah, i.e., ma'aseh merkava, the mysticism based on Ezekiel's vision of the heavenly chariot. In a famous passage, the Talmud (Hagiga 13a) cites a biblical verse to support the prohibition against publicizing this knowledge:

תנינא בהו (שיר השירים ד׳) דבש וחלב תחת לשונך ־ דברים המתוקין מדבש וחלב יהו תחת לשונך

Shavuot celebrates the revelation of the Torah at Sinai; this is normally thought of as the "revealed" Torah, available to all. However, for mystics, perhaps as far back as the period of Hazal, Shavuot may also have included the giving of the "hidden" Torah (and this idea may be connected to the practice of reading Ezekiel's vision on the first day of Shavuot). I suggest -- and I admit to some speculation -- that to students of the kabbalah school which originated in Southern France and Northern Spain in the 12th and 13th centuries, honey-and-milk may have represented ma'aseh merkava or kabbalah as a whole. Perhaps, by including these two foods in the Shavuot meal, these mystics could quietly commemorate Matan Torat Ha-Nistar, when hidden knowledge was revealed, not to an entire nation, but only to a select few.

Nachshon ben Aminadav

2011-04-28T10:26:00.000-07:00

Shevi'i shel Pesah is the traditional anniversary of the splitting of the Red Sea. On that day this year, my son asked me to explain the extra-biblical tradition which has Nachshon ben Aminadav jumping into the sea before it parted. Below are the major midrashic sources for this tradition and some preliminary analysis regarding their origins in Scripture. This turns out to be an excellent example of how aggadot on biblical figures were formulated by carefully reading words and phrases within the Bible itself.

A version of this aggada is found in the Talmud, Sota 36b-37a:

אמר רב חנא בר ביזנא א״ר שמעון חסידא: יוסף שקידש שם שמים בסתר ־ הוסיפו עליו אות אחת משמו של הקב״ה, יהודה שקידש שם שמים בפרהסיא ־ נקרא כולו על שמו של הקב״ה. . .

יהודה מאי היא? דתניא, היה ר״מ אומר: כשעמדו ישראל על הים, היו שבטים מנצחים זה עם זה, זה אומר אני יורד תחלה לים וזה אומר אני יורד תחלה לים, קפץ שבטו של בנימין וירד לים תחילה, שנאמר: (תהלים סח) שם בנימין צעיר רודם, אל תקרי רודם אלא רד ים, והיו שרי יהודה רוגמים אותם, שנאמר: (תהלים סח) שרי יהודה רגמתם . . . אמר לו רבי יהודה: לא כך היה מעשה, אלא זה אומר אין אני יורד תחילה לים וזה אומר אין אני יורד תחילה לים, קפץ נחשון בן עמינדב וירד לים תחילה, שנאמר: (הושע יב) סבבוני בכחש אפרים ובמרמה בית ישראל ויהודה עוד רד עם אל, ועליו מפרש בקבלה: (תהלים סט) הושיעני אלהים כי באו מים עד נפש, טבעתי ביון מצולה ואין מעמד וגו׳ (תהלים סט) אל תשטפני שבולת מים ואל תבלעני מצולה וגו׳ . . .לפיכך זכה יהודה לעשות ממשלה בישראל, שנאמר: (תהלים קיד) היתה יהודה לקדשו ישראל ממשלותיו, מה טעם היתה יהודה לקדשו וישראל ממשלותיו? משום דהים ראה וינוס.

I have highlighted the biblical quotations, none of which are from Exodus, to show how the midrash draws on several verses from seemingly unrelated contexts (Hosea, Psalms) to supplement the biblical narrative.

Here are the aggada's main elements:

Judah and Joseph committed great acts of kiddush Hashem; Joseph's act was private, but Judah's was public.
The kiddush ha-Shem performed by the tribe of Judah took place at the Red Sea.
Rabbi Judah claims that while the tribes were bickering over who would enter the Red Sea first (each tribe refusing to be the first), Nachson ben Aminadav, the prince (nasi) of the tribe of Judah, jumped into the sea. Rabbi Meir claims that each tribe wished to enter first, and that it was the tribe of Benjamin, not Judah, that acted while the others argued.
In R. Judah's view, the tribe of Judah earned the right of sovereignty as a reward for sanctifying God's name at the Red Sea.

Note the following with regard to the Scriptural derivation of the aggada:

Although Nachshon is said to have entered first, no verse is cited in this version to prove this. The verses here only support the idea that the tribe of Judah was the first to enter.
The implicit connection between Judah's kiddush ha-Shem and the splitting of the Red Sea derives from contiguous verses (semikhut pesukim) in Psalm 114. In the opening verses of this Psalm, בְּצֵאת יִשְֹרָאֵל מִמִּצְרָיִם is followed immediately by הָיְתָה יְהוּדָה לְקָדְשׁוֹ. Thus, the tribe of Judah sanctified God's name immediately following the exodus, i.e., at the Red Sea. This reasoning is alluded to in Midrash Tehillim 114 (ed. Buber, p. 474).
Psalm 69 is the prayer of a very desperate man -- הושיעני אלהים כי באו מים עד נפש. Hazal heard in this prayer the cries of someone who is literally near drowning. Aside perhaps from the Book of Jonah (which has its own undersea prayer), the most appropriate context for this Psalm was at the Red Sea.

The version of the aggada quoted above has a parallel source in the Mekhilta (Mekhilta de-Rabbi Yishmael, Beshalah 5, ed. Horowitz-Rabin pp. 104-105). It is a midrash on the following verse (Ex. 14:22):

וַיָּבֹאוּ בְנֵי-יִשְֹרָאֵל בְּתוֹךְ הַיָּם בַּיַּבָּשָׁה וְהַמַּיִם לָהֶם חוֹמָה מִימִינָם וּמִשְּׂמֹאלָם

There are no major variations between the Bavli and the Mekhilta, but the opening verse in the Mekhilta's version is significant. Note how בְּתוֹךְ הַיָּם בַּיַּבָּשָׁה -- "in the sea on dry land" -- is an oxymoron. One might therefore read the two phrases, instead, as sequential events: "The children of Israel entered the sea, which then turned to dry land." So the idea that someone entered the Red Sea before it parted derived, at least in part, from the structure of this verse (See Shemot Rabba 21:10 - אם בים למה ביבשה ואם ביבשה למה בתוך הים? אלא מכאן אתה למד שלא נקרע להם הים עד שבאו לתוכו עד חוטמן ואחר כך נעשה להם יבשה).

But what motivated R. Judah to identify Nachshon as the hero of the story? One could argue that it is reasonable to assume, once it had been established that the tribe of Judah entered first, that its leader would have personally set the example. But is there any indication from the biblical text which singles out Nachshon?

As background, here is the biblical profile of Nachshon ben Aminadav:

Nachson was the brother-in-law of Aaron (Ex. 6:23). In the opening verses of Numbers (1:7), he is named as the nasi of his tribe. Most significantly, he is the first of the twelve nesi'im to offer sacrifices at the dedication of the tabernacle (Num. 7:12):

וַיְהִי הַמַּקְרִיב בַּיּוֹם הָרִאשׁוֹן אֶת-קָרְבָּנוֹ נַחְשׁוֹן בֶּן-עַמִּינָדָב לְמַטֵּה יְהוּדָה

Nachshon is also named in Ruth (4:20) and I Chronicles (2:11) as a direct progenitor of King David.

The source for Nachshon's role at the Red Sea is made explicit in the following passage from Bemidbar Rabba (13:7):

נחשון בן עמינדב למטה יהודה. למה נקרא שמו נחשון? על שם שירד תחלה לנחשול שבים. אמר רבי שמעון בן יוחאי: אמר הקב״ה למשה מי שקידש את שמי בים הוא יקריב תחלה וזה היה נחשון וכן עשה הה״ד (במדבר ז) נחשון בן עמינדב וגו׳

Hazal took note of the fact that in Numbers it was the prince of Judah, rather than Reuben, who made the first dedication offering. Nachshon must have done something outstanding to merit this honor. An aggadic tradition developed, here represented by R. Shimon bar Yohai, which identified Nachson as the man who first entered the Red Sea; the same Nachshon who sanctified God's name after the exodus was invited to step ahead of the other tribes at the dedication of the tabernacle.

Also, this midrash makes a linguistic connection between the name נחשון and the word נחשול, a large wave or sea-storm (נחשול is of rabbinic, rather than biblical, origin; like many word or name associations in the literature of Hazal, this analogy should be treated as a thematic link, not as true etymology). Note that a variant of the Mekhilta/Bavli version (e.g., Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai, ed. Epstein-Melamed, p. 63) uses the following expression:

קפץ נחשון בן עמינדב ונפל לו לתוך הים וגליו

This rendering seems to echo the נחשון / נחשול association.

It is very interesting to note that both R. Judah in the Mekhilta/Bavli version and R. Shimon bar Yohai in the Bemidbar Rabba version assume that Nachson is the one who had jumped into the Red Sea. They do not feel compelled to prove it. This points to a relatively early origin of this tradition.

I would add that there may be an implicit connection underlying this aggada between Nachson's sacrifice at the hannukat hamishkan and his self-sacrifice (i.e., kiddush Ha-Shem) at the Red Sea:

The verse וַיְהִי הַמַּקְרִיב בַּיּוֹם הָרִאשׁוֹן אֶת-קָרְבָּנוֹ נַחְשׁוֹן בֶּן-עַמִּינָדָב לְמַטֵּה יְהוּדָה conjures the phrase וּפַרְעֹה הִקְרִיב (Ex. 14:10), describing Pharaoh's pursuit of Israel just before the parting of the waters. Recall Rashi on this verse -- מהו הקריב? הקריב עצמו ונתאמץ לקדם לפניהם. It is possible that Hazal "heard" a linguistic and thematic connection between the self-sacrifice of Pharaoh and the first sacrificial offering of Nachson. This may have contributed to the idea that there was an unnamed character at the Red Sea on "our side" who also engaged in self-sacrifice, especially in light of all the hints in Psalms pointing to Judah's kiddush ha-Shem at that event.

The main point of this discussion is that aggadot are not fanciful creations of Hazal. They were developed over centuries to fill gaps in the biblical narrative by drawing on parallels and suggestive language within the Bible itself. (The seminars and writings of James Kugel are my inspiration for this approach to reading midrash).

Nachshon is not mentioned in Parshat Beshalah, nor is there any hint there of a debate between the tribes as to who should (or should not) enter first into the sea. But after reading the parsha, it remains unclear what exactly happened before the sea split. After all, before the waters part, God first tells Moshe דַּבֵּר אֶל-בְּנֵי-יִשְֹרָאֵל וְיִסָּעוּ (Ex. 14:15) and only in the next verse commands him to use his staff to perform the miracle (14:16) --

וְאַתָּה הָרֵם אֶת-מַטְּךָ וּנְטֵה אֶת-יָדְךָ עַל-הַיָּם וּבְקָעֵהוּ וְיָבֹאוּ בְנֵי-יִשְֹרָאֵל בְּתוֹךְ הַיָּם בַּיַּבָּשָׁה

As mentioned, the phrase בְּתוֹךְ הַיָּם בַּיַּבָּשָׁה seems deliberately worded as if to say that they must enter the sea before it splits. To underscore the point, the phrase is repeated verbatim after they crossed (14:22) -- וַיָּבֹאוּ בְנֵי-יִשְֹרָאֵל בְּתוֹךְ הַיָּם בַּיַּבָּשָׁה. This may have suggested to Hazal that God expected the Israelites to demonstrate their faith before Moshe split the sea miraculously, and that they indeed did so. Hints in verses elsewhere, such as in Psalms, contributed other details to the aggada, i.e., that a single individual -- Nachshon ben Aminadav from the tribe of Judah -- was the man who took the initiative and thereby sanctified God's name. Collectively, all of these hints and suggestions formed the basis of a supplementary narrative to the story recorded in the Bible.

There is, of course, an ethical statement in this aggada having to do with bitahon and human effort, especially individual effort. The sea did not split until someone, to paraphrase Neil Armstrong, took a single step for a man; one giant leap of faith for his people. We will leave that theme aside for another discussion.

On Reading and Translating Shir Ha-Shirim

2011-04-21T20:10:00.000-07:00

The allegorical reading of Shir Ha-Shirim (SHS) runs through our tradition. But I believe it is important -- as bnei Torah -- to acknowledge the peshat, the love of nature and the praises of earthly love which permeate this book.

The tension between peshat and derash in SHS has been addressed over the centuries by our greatest exegetes; Rashi is a fascinating example. Aside from his commentary, we are fortunate to have Rashi's methodology spelled out with great clarity in his introduction to the commentary. This text should be required reading for any ben Torah who has struggled with Shir Ha-Shirim.

Rashi's introduction is translated and quoted at length within the introductory paragraphs to SHS in the ArtScroll Stone Chumash (pp. 1263ff.), but only partially. The opening, and most critical, lines have been omitted by the editor, apparently for ideological reasons. Here is my translation of the "missing" portion of Rashi's introduction:

"God has spoken once; twice have I heard it (Ps. 62:12): This means that a single verse of Scripture may have multiple interpretations" (Sanhedrin 34a). After all is said and done, there is no verse in Scripture whose interpretation may deviate completely from its simple and literal meaning. Although the prophets spoke allegorically, one must interpret their allegories according to the structure of the text and the sequence of the verses, one following another . . . I have endeavored to preserve the literal meaning of the text and to interpret the verses in sequence. I shall also cite the midrashim of our Sages, each in its appropriate place . . .

Rashi's loyalty to peshat and textual context is as strong as his loyalty to midrash.

For example, on the verse below (2:12), Rashi first provides a completely literal commentary, followed by a midrashic one.

הַנִּצָּנִים נִרְאוּ בָאָרֶץ עֵת הַזָּמִיר הִגִּיעַ וְקוֹל הַתּוֹר נִשְׁמַע בְּאַרְצֵנוּ:

Below is my translation of the literal portion of Rashi's commentary on this verse:

הַנִּצָּנִים נִרְאוּ בָאָרֶץ -- Spring is arriving, when trees bloom and travelers delight in seeing them.

עֵת הַזָּמִיר הִגִּיעַ -- The birds are singing, providing pleasing sounds to travelers.

וְקוֹל הַתּוֹר -- Read this literally . . . birds normally sing and chirp in the spring.

Compare Rashi's literal commentary to the ArtScroll Stone translation of this verse:

The righteous blossoms are seen in the land, the time of your song has arrived, and the voice of your guide is heard in the land (emphasis added).

Now, the Stone translation purports to be "allegorical, based on Rashi's commentary." But this is misleading. The translator should have said, "based on the allegorical portion of Rashi's commentary." I do not believe that this translation is a faithful reflection of Rashi's commentary. The critical thrust of Rashi's method has been ignored throughout the translation and omitted from the presentation of Rashi's introduction. I further believe that had Rashi himself translated SHS into Old French, he would have based it on the literal thread of his commentary.

This is not to say that the peshat and derash layers are equivalent or interchangeable for Rashi. The peshat, no doubt, is a means to the deeper level of derash. Yet, Rashi insists on a precise knowledge of the means, the literal text, as a prerequisite for reaching the end.

The editor of the Stone Chumash, like Rashi, justifies his methodology:

". . .The Song is an allegory. It is a duet of love between God and Israel. Its verses are so saturated with meaning that nearly every one of the major commentators finds new themes in its beautiful but cryptic words. All agree, however, that the true and simple meaning of Shir HaShirim is the allegorical meaning. The literal meaning of the words is so far from their meaning that it is false. . . . Has it been misinterpreted by fools and twisted by scoundrels? Most assuredly Yes! . . ."

(R. Nosson Scherman, The Chumash, ArtScroll Series, Stone Edition, Mesorah, Brooklyn, 1998, pp. 1263-1267. The last sentence appears verbatim in the "Overview" of the original ArtScroll edition; see R. Nosson Scherman, Shir haShirim, Mesorah, New York, 1977, p. lxvi. This edition also includes the truncated version of Rashi's introduction, on p. 67).

This statement is, at best, inaccurate. "All" do not agree, certainly not Rashi, "that the true and simple meaning of Shir HaShirim is the allegorical meaning." The "literal meaning" is not "false"; it is part of a "true" reading of SHS. (I am playing along with ArtScroll's terminology -- "true" and "false" are inappropriate categories in this context). There is no doubt that the literal layer of meaning in SHS was critically important to Rashi, as it should be to us. And if those who have "misinterpreted and twisted" SHS (presumably, those who have interpreted it literally) are "fools and scoundrels" then, has ve-shalom, the second-century tanna R. Yonatan is one as well. R. Yonatan appears to have read SHS literally, calling it "divre zemer" (poetry or song) and attributing it to a young Solomon, as stated in Shir Ha-Shirim Rabba (1:10):

ר׳ יונתן אמר שה״ש כתב תחלה ואח״כ משלי ואח״כ קהלת. ומייתי לה ר׳ יונתן מדרך ארץ. כשאדם נער אומר דברי זמר, הגדיל אומר דברי משלות, הזקין אומר דברי הבלים.

An approach more faithful to the spirit of Rashi's method, in a contemporary format, can be found in the introduction and commentary of Amos Hakham, in Mossad Harav Kook's Da'at Mikra series. The rest is commentary (and translation). Go and learn.

Reclining at the Seder

2011-04-13T08:18:00.000-07:00

This shiur is dedicated le-ilui nishmat avi mori ve-rabi, R. Shlomo ben Avraham Leib ZL, who passed away on or le-arba asar two years ago.

I would like to say at the outset that the shiur will take the form of an analysis of a sugya, i.e., it is a “shiur in lomdus.” Needless to say, I will make no practical conclusions halakha le-maaseh, although I will attempt to analyze both the maaseh ha-mitzva, the practice of reclining, and the kiyyum ha-mitzva, its function and meaning. I hope that my analysis will enrich both, as any worthy piece of lomdus should.

Reclining as a dining custom is discussed in the Talmud in the context of both hilkhot pesah and hilkhot berakhot. We will begin with hilkhot berakhot.

The mishna in Ketzad Mevarkhin (source 1) in Tractate Berakhot discusses hotzaa bi-verakha, the option of including fellow diners in a blessing at a group meal. It distinguishes between two dining postures – sitting and reclining.

משנה. ברך על היין שלפני המזון ־ פטר את היין שלאחר המזון . . . היו יושבין ־ כל אחד מברך לעצמו, הסבו ־ אחד מברך לכולן .

There are two separate cases in this mishna. The first deals with food served before the meal as a sort of appetizer, and whether the blessing made over the preliminary course can include food eaten later in the meal. The second case deals with how dining posture impacts hotzaa. We will soon see how these cases are related and why they are contiguous in this mishna.

We should also note that read simply, the mishna is speaking of berakha rishona, but the gemara assumes it also refers to birkat hamazon.

On the question of reclining vs. sitting, the gemara (42b) concludes that the possibility of hotzaa is not limited to the case where the diners have actually reclined. The gemara states that if a group dined together deliberately, in a pre-meditated manner, they may appoint one member to say birkat hamazon for all, even if they ate sitting. That is, if the meal was eaten with a sense of community, then hotzaa is possible. In the words of the gemara:

כיון דאמרי ניזיל וניכול לחמא בדוך פלן ־ כהסבו דמי.

Within the shakela ve-taria of this sugya, the gemara quotes a tosefta (source 2) which is very similar to our mishna. This tosefta is a sort of “Guide to Formal Dining” with respect to the relevant halakhot at each stage of the meal.

Berakhot 43a (from Tosefta):

כיצד סדר הסבה (another version reads: “seder seuda”) ? אורחין נכנסין ויושבין על גבי ספסלין ועל גבי קתדראות עד שיכנסו כולם. הביאו להם מים כל אחד ואחד נוטל ידו אחת, בא להם יין ־ כל אחד ואחד מברך לעצמוֹ. עלו והסבו ובא להם מים, אף על פי שכל אחד ואחד נטל ידו אחת ־ חוזר ונוטל שתי ידיו. בא להם יין, אף על פי שכל אחד ואחד ברך לעצמו ־ אחד מברך לכולם.

Some historical context: In the Roman period, to which the Mishna and Tosefta belong, nobility throughout the Mediterranean built homes and held banquets in the Roman style (see the illustrations). Guests arriving at a dinner party entered the host’s villa from the street via a corridor, called the vestibulum (“prozdor” in Hazal, based on the Greek). The vestibulum lead to a central courtyard called the atrium, which was open to the air. As described in the Tosefta, the guests sat on benches (ספסלין) or on chairs with backs (קתדראות) and were served wine and hors d'oeuvres (parperaot) until all the guests arrived. Branching off from the atrium were several rooms, including the formal dining room, or triclinium -- “teraklin” in rabbinic Hebrew, e.g., Avot 4:

רבי יעקב אומר העולם הזה דומה לפרוזדור בפני העולם הבא. התקן עצמך בפרוזדור. כדי שתכנס לטרקלין:

“Triclinium,” based on the Greek, is a “room with three couches.” The couches, either separate or as a single permanent fixture, were normally arranged in a U-shape, surrounding a small table. The triclinia of wealthy Romans had a built-in stone structure in this shape, covered with cushions during meals.

By reading the mishna and tosefta in Ketsad Mevarkhin in parallel, the scene they each describe becomes more clear, and we may further understand why sitting and reclining differ le-halakha. When the mishna speaks of “lifne hamazon” or “hayyu yoshvin”, it is referring to the preliminary phase of a banquet. While guests were gathering in the vestibulum and artrium, during what we may call the “smorgasbord,” there was no keviut le-akhila. They ate standing or perhaps sitting on benches and chairs. This was considered akhilat arai, "transient eating" rather than dining (though we will soon see how some medieval halakhists offered an updated view of sitting down to eat). Free men and women would recline, rather than sit, while dining. Therefore, the mishna says היו יושבין ־ כל אחד מברך לעצמו . On the other hand, “be-tokh hamazon” refers to the dinner, served only after the guests had reclined in the triclinium. Since this was the primary and stationary part of the meal, a single diner could include the others in his blessing -- הסבו ־ אחד מברך לכולן. This is what the tosefta means by “alu ve-hesevu” – the guests have relocated to the the triclinium and have reclined. In short, then, “sitting” and “reclining” in both our mishna and tosefta refer to two sequential events within the same meal. The first event included no option for hotzaa due to its transience; the second was marked by keviut and therefore included the possibility of hotzaa (I later discovered a similar analysis by Meir Ish Shalom in Meir Ayin al Ha-Hagada [Vienna, 1895], pp. 19ff.; available on HebrewBooks.org).

It should be noted that reclining during meals far pre-dates the Romans. It was the custom of elites in ancient Persian and Greek civilization, and is mentioned in Tanakh (SHS: “ad shehamelekh be-mesibo”; Meggilat Esther, “mitot zahav va-khesef”; Haman pleaded with Esther while she was reclining at the banquet).

Reclining during a banquet was taken for granted by Hazal. However, by the medieval period, at least in Christian Europe, it had fallen out of practice. Tosafot on this sugya (source 3) acknowledges the change in dining customs, and applies the contemporary standard of behavior to the laws of berakhot:

Tosafot, Berakhot 42a, s.v. Hesevu:

הסבו אחד מברך לכלן. ואנו אין לנו הסבה אלא בפת בלבד ופת מהני אפילו בלא הסבה. דדוקא לדידהו שהיו אוכלים בהסבה היו צריכים הסבה אלא ישיבה שלנו הוי קביעות לנו כהסבה דידהו. שהם היו רגילים כל אחד להסב על מטתו ועל שלחנו אבל עכשיו כולנו אוכלים על שלחן אחד וכשאנו אוכלין יחד היינו קביעותינו.

This should not be viewed as a radical hiddush since the gemara itself equated sitting with reclining, if there was keviut at the meal. What is striking about this Tosafot is the acknowledgement that a change in general culture over time may lead to a major deviation from a practice originally mandated by the Talmud.

We can now move on to reclining at the Seder. The source of this obligation is the first mishna in Arve Pesahim (source 4). Note that there are three phrases in this mishna. The first clearly refers to issur akhila be-erev Pesah. The last addresses the obligation of four cups of wine, i.e. that this obligation applies even to the poor. The middle phrase is somewhat ambiguous. The simplest reading connects it to the last phrase, the sefa; i.e., someone who is poor must also observe the reclining at the Seder in addition to the four cups of wine. However, there is an opposing view quoted in Tosafot (source 5) which reads the middle phrase as a continuation of the first phrase in the mishna, the resha; i.e., that all members of the community, even a starving “ani shebe-yisrael,” must wait until dark to begin the Seder.

While the Mishna and the Bavli do not provide an explicit “ta'am” for reclining at the Seder, the Yerushalmi does (source 6). The point to be emphasized in reading the Yerushalmi is that haseva and slavery cannot coexist within the same person; they are mutually exclusive, though in some ways interdependent. Slavery facilitated reclining. The slave’s function was to attend to the host and his guests, and therefore slaves were normally prohibited from reclining with their masters. Indeed, reclining with one's master was a sign of manumission. Reclining is thus a very fitting expression of “me-avdut le-herut.” The Rambam expands on this theme (source 7). Following the mishna in Arve Pesahim – according to the reading which ties “afilu ani” with “lo yifhatu lo” – the Rambam tightly links the obligation of four kosot with haseva, mentioning them almost in the same breath. Both, in his view, are a kiyyum of “derekh herut” which, in turn, is a kiyyum of “leharot et atzmo” – of personally experiencing the redemption.

We have read from the Tosafot in Berakhot, which argues that haseva around a table is equivalent to reclining for the purpose of keviut le-akhila. We do not find such an explicit argument in any Tosafot in Arve Pesahim. However, the Hakhmei Ashkenaz from the same period applied the approach of Tosafot in Berakhot to haseva be-lel Pesah (Raavan, Raavia, and Maharil, sources 8-10).

The position stating that haseva is no longer required due to the shift from a reclining to a table-and-chairs dining culture has come to be identified with the Raavia (R. Eliezer ben Yoel Ha-Levi, active in Germany around 1200; source 9). In fact, he was preceded by his maternal grandfather, the Raavan (R. Eliezer ben Nathan, twelfth-century Germany; source 8). The Rema cites the Raavia’s position in the context of two cases: Although women are obligated to recline, they do not normally do so (לא נהגו להסב); in this, they can rely on the opinion of the Raavia. Also, based on the uncontested authority of the Raavia, the Rema justifies the lenient opinion exempting those who forgot to recline from eating matza or drinking the kosot again - כדאי הוא ראבי״ה לסמוך עליו שבדיעבד יצא בלא הסיבה. The Rema's own ruling, however, is that one must repeat eating matza and drinking the first two cups of wine if they were consumed without reclining (source 11).

Of the three German halakhists in the sources, the Maharil is the most strident in tone; he insists that we should not recline, as he who does “resembles one who is ill.” In Western countries, this is of course as true today as it was in 1400; only those who are very ill eat lying down.

Note well that the Raavan and Raavia, given the Mishna and the Bavli, do not argue that haseva is anachronistic; they say that reclining is anachronistic. Haseva derekh herut is indeed required but it may be defined broadly to include the sitting posture.

[Taking a more radical approach to the question of sitting vs. reclining, the Maharal argues that haseva is synonymous with yeshiva. This is far beyond the baalei hatosafot who said that ישיבה שלנו הוי קביעות לנו כהסבה דידהו. His proof is from the Targum on “vayeshvu le-ekhol lehem” – i.e., “va-istaharu”, they reclined. This position is untenable, however, considering that Hazal distinguish explicitly between “haseva” and “yeshiva” in the context of hilkhot berakhot and hilkhot pesach. Moreover, the fact that “sitting to eat” is translated by Onkelos as “reclining” does not imply the reverse, that when reclining is required, sitting may be substituted as an equivalent – reclining may be only a subset of sitting.]

Another approach to broadening the definition of “haseva” is taken by Menahem Kasher in the Haggada Shelema. He says that “haseva” is derived from sov, as in “gathering round.” Thus, haseva refers to the act of communal dining rather than the dining posture of the diners. So, in line with the views of Tosafot, Raavan, and Raavia, haseva may include any contemporary dining format, including sitting, as long as the meal is shared. Though I believe Kasher’s analysis correctly identifies the etymological origin of “haseva,” it is hard to argue – as noted by D. Goldschmidt – that the traditional usage of haseva includes anything but reclining.

Let us now turn to the question (or declaration) about reclining in the Ma Nishtana passage of the Haggada. As is well known, the version of Ma Nishtana in the mishna omits reclining, and instead includes a question about why the Passover offering may only be prepared by broiling (basar tzali). This does not necessarily imply that there were always four questions recited at the Seder, and that the mishna's question about broiling was simply replaced by the Haggada's question on reclining. The Rambam (source 12), in fact, submits that five questions were asked bizeman hamikdash, including the question about reclining, but that the question regarding tzali was omitted after the destruction of the Temple. The Vilna Gaon (source 13), on the other hand, argues that the question on reclining was not included at all during the Temple period since it was common practice at all meals, but was inserted later in place of the question regarding the korban pesah. Thus, according to the GRA, since today we are naturally surprised to see the anachronism of reclining practiced at the Seder, it deserves its own question within Ma Nishtana. In the same vein, the Arukh Ha-Shulhan concedes that while reclining is completely anachronistic, ancient and outmoded dining manners are to be celebrated at the Seder, rather than avoided, as there is no better way to elicit questioning from the children.

The approach which I believe is closest to the simple, and likely original, meaning of the question in Ma Nishtana on reclining is that of the Shibolei Ha-Leket (source 14). In his view, the expression kulanu mesubin -- "tonight we all recline" -- emphasizes the egalitarian nature of the Seder. On this night, all social classes, including servants, women, and children, were invited to recline. "We all recline" means that all those present at the Seder must recline, in contrast to the normal practice of bein yoshvin u-vein mesubin, when members of some classes were not permitted to recline. At the Seder, all classes, especially those who were normally subjugated to the will of others, must experience derekh herut. Thus, according to Shibole Ha-Leket, the question on reclining in Ma Nashtina would have been appropriate, perhaps especially so, during the Temple period, when reclining was common practice.

I end with two conclusions, which are challenges that have been raised by this discussion. The first is connected to the maaseh ha-mitzva and the second has to do with the kiyyum ha-mitzva.

1. How should we respond to changing norms and values in the world of which we are a part, when they conflict with our traditions, or when those norms and values make our customs seem outdated? Despite our often diligent efforts, it is impossible to deny that the world around us changes. Dress, social behaviors, speech, intellectual and artistic trends, and even moral values – in a word, culture – changes in both general society and in our subculture in parallel, though not necessarily at the same speed, whether we like it or not. This is especially true today where any cultural barriers between our own community and wider society are voluntary and easily breached.

The 12^th and 13^th century Ashkenazic poskim were able to pronounce confidently that ישיבה שלנו הוי קביעות לנו כהסבה דידהו (Tosafot) or that יוצאין אנו כדרך הסיבתנו ואין לנטות ימין ושמאל (Raavan). How and when can we apply the same reasoning today to other customs that appear to be obsolete? Considering the dangers inherent in this activity, this is clearly not something we can do cavalierly.

A useful approach to this problem may be something like the following: With regard to certain customs, we must not idolize the past simply because it is old. That is, even within our conservative religious tradition, we should not sacrifice progress on the altar of convention or maintain anachronistic behaviors only out of a sense of nostalgia. The Hakhmei Ashkenaz ruled unequivocally that in the West one must -- le-hatkhila -- sit at the Seder (in contrast to Rema, who permitted sitting only after the fact, be-dieved), even though this was not in agreement with a literal reading of the Talmud. It is the science and art of pesak to make determinations of this kind in each generation, as human behavior changes over time. In short, our Torah is a Torat Hayyim, it is flexible and responsive to change but, to ensure its integrity, it must also be maintained by seyagim.

2. As mentioned, the Rambam says haseva is a kiyyum of “derekh herut,” which itself is a kiyyum of “Leharot et azmo.” This is a difficult challenge in modern society. We may try to demonstrate herut, but there is no universal set of actions that can inspire a feeling of herut, since most of us are so unfamiliar with its opposite. This was not so at the time of Hazal: As many as 20-30% of the population in Rome were slaves. During that period, when slavery was commonplace and when masters and slaves reclined together at the Seder, it was much easier to experience a sense of herut (the Rambam cites this as a technique to fulfill sippur yetziat mitzrayim for a קטן או טיפש בן). So how can one truly experience herut today, as required by the Rambam?

"וזכרת כי עבד היית" -- כלומר, כאילו אתה בעצמך היית עבד ויצאת לחירות ונפדית

One way to overcome this challenge is to view sippur yetziat mitzrayim from the perspective of the kabbalists. They see it not only as the retelling of a national, historical event, but primarily as a personal, metaphysical narrative of the human quest for inner freedom. Rabbi Soloveitchik develops this idea in his essay “The Symbolism of Matza” (in Festival of Freedom, ed. Joel B. Wolowelsky and Reuven Ziegler, Toras Horav Foundation/Ktav, New York: 2006, pp. 61-62):

Everyone is in bondage to the unalterable order of things and events, to Pharaoh. One is born into a slave world, into an environment of rigid causation and regularity. One is thrust into an alien, indifferent, alas cruel world, where he is not master but slave to events not of his making. Only through an act of sheer heroism can one free oneself from this order and mold a new inner experience . . . the exodus experience is the dramatic presentation of his encounter, of his combat with and victory over his antagonist, namely, the slave order and slave existence.

However, freedom is not the ultimate end of man’s questing. Freedom is only the viaduct leading to something higher and more sublime, to the final destination of man’s fellowship with God . . .

הסיבה בליל פסח

SOURCES

1. Mishna, Berakhot 42a

משנה. ברך על היין שלפני המזון ־ פטר את היין שלאחר המזון, ברך על הפרפרת שלפני המזון ־ פטר את הפרפרת שלאחר המזון, ברך על הפת ־ פטר את הפרפרת, על הפרפרת ־ לא פטר את הפתֹ בית שמאי אומרים: אף לא מעשה קדרה. היו יושבין ־ כל אחד מברך לעצמו, הסבו ־ אחד מברך לכולן . בא להם יין בתוך המזון ־ כל אחד ואחד מברך לעצמו. אחר המזון ־ אחד מברך לכולם

2. Berakhot 43a (From Tosefta Berakhot)

כיצד סדר הסבה? אורחין נכנסין ויושבין על גבי ספסלין ועל גבי קתדראות עד שיכנסו כולם. הביאו להם מים כל אחד ואחד נוטל ידו אחת, בא להם יין ־ כל אחד ואחד מברך לעצמוֹ. עלו והסבו ובא להם מים, אף על פי שכל אחד ואחד נטל ידו אחת ־ חוזר ונוטל שתי ידיו. בא להם יין, אף על פי שכל אחד ואחד ברך לעצמו ־ אחד מברך לכולם
.

3. Tosafot, Berakhot 42a, s.v. Hesevu

הסבו אחד מברך לכלן. ואנו אין לנו הסבה אלא בפת בלבד ופת מהני אפילו בלא הסבה. דדוקא לדידהו שהיו אוכלים בהסבה היו צריכים הסבה אלא ישיבה שלנו הוי קביעות לנו כהסבה דידהו. שהם היו רגילים כל אחד להסב על מטתו ועל שלחנו אבל עכשיו כולנו אוכלים על שלחן אחד וכשאנו אוכלין יחד היינו קביעותינו.

4. Mishna, Pesahim 99b

משנה. ערב פסחים סמוך למנחה לא יאכל אדם עד שתחשך. אפילו עני שבישראל לא יאכל עד שיסב. ולא יפחתו לו מארבע כוסות של יין, ואפילו מן התמחוי.

5. Tosafot, Pesahim 99b, s.v. Ve-Afilu

ואפילו עני שבישראל לא יאכל עד שיסב. דסלקא דעת דהסיבת עני לא חשיבא הסיבה דאין לו על מה להסב ואין זה דרך חירות. ויש מפרשים דאדלעיל קאי עד שתחשך ואפילו עני שבישראל פירוש אפי׳ עני שלא אכל כמה ימים לא יאכל עד שתחשך

6. Yerushalmi, Pesahim 10:1

אמר רב לוי ולפי שדרך עבדים להיות אוכלין מעומד וכאן להיות אוכלין מסובין להודיע שיצאו מעבדות לחירות. ר׳ סימון בשם ר׳ יהושע בן לוי אותו כזית שאדם יוצא בו בפסח צריך לאוכלו מיסב. ר׳ יוסי בעא קומי ר׳ סימון אפי׳ עבד לפני רבו אפילו אשה לפני בעלה? א״ל כר׳ ע״כ שמעתי.

7. Rambam, Hametz u-Matza (7:6-7):

ו. בכל דור ודור חייב אדם להראות את עצמו כאילו הוא בעצמו יצא עתה משעבוד מצרים, שנאמר ואותנו הוציא משם וגו׳, ועל דבר זה צוה הקב״ה בתורה, וזכרת כי עבד היית כלומר כאילו אתה בעצמך היית עבד ויצאת לחירות ונפדית. ז לפיכך כשסועד אדם בלילה הזה צריך לאכול ולשתות והוא מיסב דרך חירות, וכל אחד ואחד בין אנשים בין נשים חייב לשתות בלילה הזה ארבעה כוסות של יין, אין פוחתין מהם, ואפילו עני המתפרנס מן הצדקה לא יפחתו לו מארבעה כוסות, שיעור כל כוס מהן רביעית.

8. Ra’avan, Pesahim 37:

9. Ra’avia, 525:

10. Maharil, Seder Ha-Haggada 20:

11. Rema, Orah Hayyim 472

ד אשה אינה צריכה הסיבה אא״כ היא חשובה: הגה וכל הנשים שלנו מיקרי חשובות (מרדכי ריש פ׳ ע״פ ורבינו ירוחם) אך לא נהגו להסב כי סמכו על דברי ראבי״ה דכתב דבזמן הזה אין להסב (ד״ע (:

ז כל מי שצריך הסיבה אם אכל או שתה בלא הסיבה לא יצא וצריך לחזור לאכול ולשתות בהסיבה: הגה וי״א דבזמן הזה דאין דרך להסב כדאי הוא ראבי״ה לסמוך עליו שבדיעבד יצא בלא הסיבה (אגודה פרק ערבי פסחים) ונראה לי אם לא שתה כוס שלישי או רביעי בהסיבה אין לחזור ולשתות בהסיבה דיש בה חשש שנראה כמוסיף על הכוסות אבל בשני כוסות ראשונות יחזור וישתה בלא ברכה (מנהגים) וכן באכילת מצה ולכתחלה יסב כל הסעודה. (מהרי״ב) :

12. Rambam, Hametz u-Matza 8:2-3

ב… ומוזגין הכוס השני וכאן הבן שואל, ואומר הקורא מה נשתנה הלילה הזה מכל הלילות שבכל הלילות אין אנו מטבילין אפילו פעם אחת והלילה הזה שתי פעמים, שבכל הלילות אנו אוכלין חמץ ומצה והלילה הזה כולו מצה, שבכל הלילות אנו אוכלין בשר צלי שלוק ומבושל והלילה הזה כולו צלי, שבכל הלילות אנו אוכלין שאר ירקות והלילה הזה מרורים, שבכל הלילות אנו אוכלין בין יושבין בין מסובין והלילה הזה כולנו מסובין. ג בזמן הזה אינו אומר והלילה הזה כולו צלי שאין לנו קרבן…

13. Vilna Gaon, Perush al Ha-Haggada (reprinted below from Shmuel Klein, Seder Eliyahu al Ha-Haggada, Prague, 1813. First published by Menahem Mendel of Shklov in Seder Haggada shel Pesah, Grodno, 1805).

14. Shibolei Ha-Leket, Perush al Ha-Haggada

Triclinium (House of Julia Felix, Pompeii):

Matza -- Bread of Affliction?

2011-04-12T19:39:00.000-07:00

Matza is the bread we ate in haste during the exodus from Egypt, and thus might be said to represent freedom. But it is also called לֶחֶם עֹנִי, commonly translated as "bread of affliction." What exactly does "lehem oni" mean, in the simplest reading (peshat)? To which experience does it refer?

Here are some preliminary notes on matza and "lehem oni":

In Sefer Shemot, the reason for eating matza is stated unambiguously: We left Egypt in haste and did not have time to bake leavned bread.

Ex. 12:34ff:

וַיִּשָּׂא הָעָם אֶת-בְּצֵקוֹ טֶרֶם יֶחְמָץ מִשְׁאֲרֹתָם צְרֻרֹת בְּשִֹמְלֹתָם עַל-שִׁכְמָם: . . .וַיֹּאפוּ אֶת-הַבָּצֵק אֲשֶׁר הוֹצִיאוּ מִמִּצְרַיִם עֻגֹת מַצּוֹת כִּי לֹא חָמֵץ כִּי-גֹרְשׁוּ מִמִּצְרַיִם וְלֹא יָכְלוּ לְהִתְמַהְמֵהַּ וְגַם-צֵדָה לֹא-עָשֹוּ לָהֶם:

The term לֶחֶם עֹנִי appears only in the book of Deuteronomy (16:3), in Parshat Re'eh:

לֹא-תֹאכַל עָלָיו חָמֵץ שִׁבְעַת יָמִים תֹּאכַל-עָלָיו מַצּוֹת לֶחֶם עֹנִי כִּי בְחִפָּזוֹן יָצָאתָ מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם לְמַעַן תִּזְכֹּר אֶת-יוֹם צֵאתְךָ מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם כֹּל יְמֵי חַיֶּיךָ:

Peshat-oriented interpretations and translations of לֶחֶם עֹנִי can be divided into two groups:

1. Plain (or "poor") matza, i.e., flour and water with no additional ingredients. This interpretation can be best understood in contrast to "matza ashira" (in the language of Hazal) -- matza containing eggs, juice, or other "rich" ingredients -- an expression which most likely arose in deliberate contrast to the biblical "lehem oni."

2. "Bread of affliction": This is the translation of the King James Version (following, apparently, both the Septuagint and the Vulgate).

The first interpretation refers to the physical makeup of matza, while the second is connected to an experience of suffering during some part of the bondage in Egypt and/or the exodus.

The Sifre cites both interpretations, and there is also a discussion in the Bavli (Pesahim 36b) which refers to this mahloket tanaim. In the Sifre on Re’eh:

לחם עוני. פרט לחלוט ואשישה(i.e., one may not use boiled bread or bread made with dried fruit). . . . רבי שמעון אומר למה נקרא לחם עוני? על שם עינוי שנתענו במצרים:

According to R. Shimon, “lehem oni” connotes “inui” or suffering, and refers to Israel’s experience in Egypt rather the physical quality of the matza.

Here is a summary of the traditional exegesis on "lehem oni":

Rashi opts for the second interpretation -- לחם עני. לחם שמזכיר את העוני שנתענו במצרים; the Ramban quotes both as possibilities. Ibn Ezra appears to agree with Rashi. Hizkuni links "oni" with "ani"; thus, a poor person has no access to anything but meager ingredients and no time for the leavening process. Seforno identifies the source of "affliction" in this verse with the pressure exerted by the Egyptian taskmasters on Bene Yisrael to leave quickly. So matza is the bread of affliction because it was eaten in involuntary haste. Finally, Aharon Mirsky, in Daat Mikra on Devarim, cites the expression "lehem lahatz" (I Kings 22:27) as a parallel to "lehem oni," i.e., meager bread eaten in oppressive circumstances.

On a midrashic level, the opinion connecting “oni” with “inui” – aside from the obvious linguistic connection, which is also relevant – appears to be inspired by specific verses in the Torah which use "inui" in reference to the bondage in Egypt. I.e.:

Ex. 1:11-12

וַיָּשִֹימוּ עָלָיו שָֹרֵי מִסִּים לְמַעַן עַנֹּתוֹ בְּסִבְלֹתָם וַיִּבֶן עָרֵי מִסְכְּנוֹת לְפַרְעֹה אֶת-פִּתֹם וְאֶת-רַעַמְסֵס: יב וְכַאֲשֶׁר יְעַנּוּ אֹתוֹ כֵּן יִרְבֶּה וְכֵן יִפְרֹץ

Deut. 26:6

וַיָּרֵעוּ אֹתָנוּ הַמִּצְרִים וַיְעַנּוּנוּ וַיִּתְּנוּ עָלֵינוּ עֲבֹדָה קָשָׁה:

The fact that Torah repeatedly uses the phrase “inui” with respect to slavery in Egypt suggests that “lehem oni” is related to the experience of "inui." I believe this underlies both R. Shimon's opinion, as well as the "bread of affliction" translation.

However, this interpretation does not imply that matza was slave-food imposed on Bene Yisrael, or even that unleavened bread, as opposed to hametz, was commonly eaten during the bondage. It likely means, more simply, that matza is the "bread of affliction” because of its meagerness. Read this way, R. Shimon in the Sifre -- למה נקרא לחם עוני? על שם עינוי שנתענו במצרים -- states that matza is a symbol of the Egyptian affliction. As noted by the Maharal (Gevurot Hashem, ch. 51), the notion of matza as slave-food is nowhere mentioned either in the Torah or in the midrash. See, for example, Bavli Peshaim 115b, where three different midrashic interpretations are offered for "lehem oni," none of which refer to matza in this sense:

אמר שמואל: (דברים טז) לחם עני (כתיב) ־ לחם שעונין עליו דברים. תניא נמי הכי לחם עני ־ לחם שעונין עליו דברים הרבה. דבר אחר: לחם עני ־ עני כתיב, מה עני שדרכו בפרוסה ־אף כאן בפרוסה. דבר אחר: מה דרכו של עני ־ הוא מסיק ואשתו אופה, אף כאן נמי ־ הוא מסיק ואשתו אופה.

The idea of “lehem oni” as slave-food became popular, I think, because of the “Ha Lahma Anya” passage in the Haggada. One might render the words, “di akhalu avhatana be-ara de-mitzrayim,” as “which our forefathers ate as slaves in Egypt,” i.e., we ate matza by mandate or necessity. But, read more simply, “di akhalu” refers to events mentioned explicitly in the Torah; either at “Pesach Mitzrayim,” when we ate matza and marror with the korban pesach, or to the period immediately following the exodus, when we ate matza out of haste.

In fact, a core group of medieval commentaries (e.g., Rashbam, Ritva, Shibole Haleket) on the Haggada state that “lahma anya” -- the Aramaic translation of “lehem oni” -- refers to the meager bread that was baked in haste, or to the custom of breaking the matza into pieces. No mention is made of matza as a staple of the Israelite diet in Egypt.

The primary source which explicitly identifies "lahma anya" with slave-food is the Orhot Hayyim (R. Aharon ha-Kohen of Lunel, France c. 1300) on the Haggada. He names a Yosef Ha-Ezovi who cited a story supposedly told by Abraham ibn Ezra about his imprisonment in India. According to this account, the Ibn Ezra was given unleavened bread as a prisoner due to its tendency to linger in the digestive tract and the relatively small amount required to feel full. So, Ha-Ezovi concludes, matza was the food given to the Israelites throughout the bondage of Egypt. Ha-Ezovi's story is also quoted by the Abudraham on the Haggada, though the captive in Abudraham's version is more generically named Ben Ezra, rather than Abraham ibn Ezra.