VOLUME 2 • NISAN 5782

THE TORAH JOURNAL OF

BETH AVRAHAM YOSEPH OF TORONTO CONGREGATION
VOLUME 2 • NISAN 5782

Editors
Dr. Gerard Klein
Rabbi Shmuel Lesher
Rabbi Ken Stollon
 Hakhmei Lev
The Torah Journal of Beth Avraham Yoseph
of Toronto Congregation

Volume 2 • Nisan 5782

HAKHMEI LEV
The Torah Journal of Beth Avraham Yoseph of Toronto Congregation
Volume 2 • Nisan 5782

Second edition

Published by Beth Avraham Yoseph of Toronto Congregation (BAYT)

613 Clark Avenue West
Thornhill, Ontario L4J 5V3
Canada

www.bayt.ca
hakhamim@bayt.ca

Editors
Dr. Gerard Klein
Rabbi Shmuel Lesher
Rabbi Ken Stollon

Proofreaders:
Ezer Diena
Howard English

Publisher
Rabbi N. Daniel Korobkin

Design and Layout by Daniel Safran

hello@danielsafran.com

Printed in Toronto, Ontario

© Beth Avraham Yoseph of Toronto Congregation, 2022

 This edition of our Journal is
dedicated in honour of

Dr. Peter Salmon ‫ז"ל‬

‫זאב ישראל בן אברהם ז״ל‬

by his loving family:

Roslyn Salmon
Estera Salmon
Joshua M. Salmon
Yossi and Rebecca Salmon & Family
Menachem and Lindsay Salmon
& Family
If you are interested in submitting an article or
sponsoring a future Hakhmei Lev journal issue
please email hakhamim@bayt.ca.
 Hakhmei Lev

Contents
Dedication11
Publisher’s Foreword 13
Editors’ Foreword 15

Pesah
Yachatz: The Great Divide 21
rabbi baruch taub
Pour Out Your Wrath Or Your Love? Establishing the Authentic Text
And Message of the Haggadah 35
rabbi shmuel lesher
Karpas, Yoseph and the Final Redemption 44
danny berger
What’s With the Wise Son Saying “You”?
An Analysis and Historical Background 50
rabbi martin j. berman
Egypt Demystified 58
archie crandell
How Did the Sea Split?The Two Stories of the Splitting of the Red Sea
Based on Rabbi Mordechai Breuer’s Aspect Methodology 65
joey fox
True Liberation 75
rabbi daniel lecount
Listen to the Younger Generation! 79
rabbi mordechai torczyner

Halakhah
We All Want Mashiah, So Why Does Nusah Ashkenaz Omit “V’Yatzmah”
in Kaddish? 85
rabbi n. daniel korobkin
Haircutting History: Understanding the Evolution of Omer Customs 93
ezer diena
Brain Stem Death: Rabbi Dr. Moshe Dovid Tendler’s Greatest Impact on
Medical Halakhah: Did Rav Moshe Feinstein Agree with Him? 103
rabbi dr. lazer friedman
On the Distribution of Molad Times in the (Very) Large Cycle  112
daniel levenstein

9
 Contents

Mishloach Manot and the Canaanite Slave 131

dr. samuel silverberg
Is Law a Good Profession for the Orthodox Jew? Part 2 135
charles wagner, ll.b

Mahshavah
Maimonides and Nahmanides: Medieval Sociologists?
Revisiting the Debate over Qorbanot 155
jonathan l. milevsky
Psalm 59: A Song of Holy Boldness 162
chaim oliver
The Timefulness of Torah 168
daniel orner
The Meaning and Significance of the Leviathan 175
rabbi ken stollon

Torah Li-Shmah
Lot’s Daughters 187
asher breatross
The Princely Prerogative  190
karyn goldberger
Korach Was His Son: Intergenerational Inherent Value 204
ariella markus
Yosef’s Plan 206
rabbi chaim metzger
Purim’s Hidden Agenda 210
rabbi a.z. thau
The Superpower of Jewish Prayer 217
laya witty
Our Era Through The Lens of the Netivot Shalom 222
rabbi dr. moshe j. yeres

10
 Hakhmei Lev

Dedication
Ben Zoma said: ‘I have found a verse that contains the whole [of the Torah]: “Listen O Israel,
Hashem is our G-d, Hashem is One” (Deut 6:4).’ Ben Nanus said: ‘I have found a verse that contains
the whole [of the Torah]: “You will love your neighbour as yourself” (Lev. 19:18).’ Shimon Ben Pazi
said: ‘I have found a verse that contains the whole [of the Torah]: “You will sacrifice a lamb
in the morning and another at dusk” (Exod. 29:39, Num. 28:4).’ And Rabbi Ploni stood up
and said, ‘The halachah is in accordance with Ben Pazi.’

The citation above is from the introduction to the Ein Yaakov, a 16th-century compilation
of Aggadic material from the Talmud, written by Rabbi Yaakov Ben Chaviv. According to
Rabbi Ploni, the preferred verse that encapsulates all of the fundamentals of Torah is the
mundane requirement of the twice-daily Korban Tamid.
The selection of this verse to represent the entirety of Torah seems puzzling when
compared to the other verses which highlight fundamentals of our faith and character.
Shema Yisroel exemplifies man’s relationship with G-d. It is the prayer we traditionally say
on our deathbed. Veohavta Lereyacha Kamocha epitomizes love being the focal ingredient in
Ben Adam Lechaveiro, man’s relationship with his fellow. Why is the requirement to bring
the Korban Tamid in the morning and in the afternoon paramount?
Perhaps to understand this preference, we must first understand the target demographic
of Rabbi Chaviv’s Sefer. The Ein Yaakov’s macro-educational format resonated especially well
with Baal HaBaatim, the “Learner/Earner” prototype. When composing the introduction to his
work, Rabbi Chaviv understood how to connect with his audience. He therefore begins his
Sefer with the recipe for a Massive Action Plan; Yiddishkeit is the passion. One must Decide,
Commit and Succeed to create a sustainable and consistent energy to feed the passion.
For one to successfully complete the physical process of the Korban Tamid twice a day,
every day, every year, it takes tremendous drive and ability to prioritize Hashem within the
confines of daily living. While the other pesukim are pillars of Judaism that provide intense
doses of spirituality, conquering the daily grind with Hashem as the focal point was the
path for this group.
This was a mantra that our father and his many dedicated study partners (which were
maintained through thick and thin) shared as they gradually acquired greater Torah know-
ledge. Before commencing the learning sessions, our father would always conduct a casual
mental health check-in and business update to ensure that they were growing in all facets.
Our father had a tremendous ability to extract the most out of each day. As such, this is
a fitting piece to start this wonderful journal, which our family dedicates in honour of our
husband, father, and Apu. He was a person who prioritized serious and rigorous Talmud
Torah while simultaneously excelling in his familial and communal responsibilities.

11
 Dedication

Our father’s vast Seforim collection provided him with much joy, which he would frequently
show to visitors and guests. While some cherished collections are kept in pristine condition,
many of our father’s Seforim were bound, taped, marked and heavily used. When our father
showed his Seforim to visitors, we believe it was ultimately the extensive use and internal-
ization of the Seforim that he was truly displaying. With our father’s compassion, together
with his unique and unassuming fashion, people would leave the “Seforim Tour” inspired
and slightly more dedicated to Torah study. Without our father ever actually uttering these
words, visitors would internalize the message being conveyed – “You could do it too, just
commit yourself.” We hope this journal follows in this path and makes our father proud.

Josh, Yossi, and Menachem Salmon, on Behalf of the Salmon Family

 Hakhmei Lev

Publisher’s Foreword
Exile. The word has so much meaning for our people. It represents a thousands-year
history of suffering and persecution and is deeply embedded within our collective conscious-
ness. But what does the word mean to us today, who live in hutz la’aretz, but who live rela-
tively comfortable lives?
Being in Exile is the existential state of feeling disenfranchised and outside of where I
belong. It can happen to anyone, anywhere. Even a person who is surrounded by their loved
ones and their community can feel a sense of Exile. All of us experience Exile at different
points in our lives.
The Zohar tells us that when the Jews were in Egypt, Exile manifested itself in silence. The
Jews were so distanced from their sense of humanity and self, that they couldn’t even find
their voice with which to verbalize their pain and their desire for liberation. Their redeemer,
Moshe, possessed a speech impediment, because this represented the speech impediment
that all of Israel possessed, in that they lacked the proper vocabulary to articulate their
feelings and hopes for the future. When Hashem redeemed Israel, He not only emancipated
their bodies, but also their thoughts and their speech.
The Arizal said that this is the deeper reason for why the upcoming holiday is called
Pesah, in that this word is a hybrid of two words: Peh and Sah, which literally mean, “the
mouth speaks.” Our liberation enabled us to find our voice and regain our humanity. This is
the reason why so much of this holiday’s celebration involves speech; the entire Haggadah
is designed to increase our communication so that we reinforce this sense of liberation.
As the Haggadah states: “It is a mitzvah to discuss the Exodus. And the more one increases
their discussion of the Exodus, the more they are worthy of praise.”
Redemption. It is the term that denotes an end to Exile. An integral part of this redemp-
tion is the ability to freely communicate after a period of having been stifled and silenced.
For so many, these last two years have been a period of Exile, when, due to anxieties and
pressures, we could not find our voice. Redemption begins by reclaiming our voices. We
began the Hakhmei Lev journal during the pandemic, in the hope of keeping our community
bound together by the printed word even when we couldn’t physically gather. Now that we
are, barukh Hashem, physically regathering, our journal represents the redemptive quality of
communication, of sharing Torah ideas freely among ourselves, and expressing our spiritual
stirrings on the printed page.
Pesah is the holiday of communication. Please enjoy our second issue of Hakhmei Lev in
that spirit. Once again, we thank the exceptional members of the BAYT who have written
beautiful essays on all different aspects of Torah. We trust you will be able to enhance your
Yom Tov with their words at your table. A special thank you to our talented and dedicated
editors, Rabbi Shmuel Lesher, Dr. Gerard Klein, and Rabbi Ken Stollon, as well as their team

13
 Publisher’s Foreword

of proofreaders, Ezer Diena and Howard English. They have all done a masterful job. Thank
you also to Daniel Safran who continues to amaze us with his graphical skills.
We are honored to dedicate this journal in memory of Peter Salmon, z”l. Peter had an
exceptional power of communication. Not through the quantity of his words, nor through
the loudness of his voice, but rather through his carefully-chosen vocabulary of love and
warmth to all who knew him. Even when the rest of his body ceased working, his mouth
expressed the stirrings of his beautiful neshamah and inspired us all. We miss him dearly,
but his memory lives on in his wonderful family. To Ros, Josh, Yossi, and Menachem, to
all your amazing spouses and children, we thank you for representing Peter’s greatness
in our community. Through you, and through the Torah in our journal, may his neshamah
have an aliyah.

Rabbi N. Daniel Korobkin

14
 Hakhmei Lev

Editors’ Foreword
Our Sages tell us, “Kneh Lecha Chaver,” Acquire yourself a friend (Avot 1:6).
Rabbeinu Yonah comments on this Mishnah in the following way: There are three advan-
tages to having a good Chaver: (1) learning Torah with a Chaver is more effective than learning
alone, as it says “I have learnt much from my Rabbis but even more from my friends”; (2)
Chaverim are important moral compasses for each other in terms of mitzvah observance
and ethical conduct, helping each other not to veer from the true, Torah path; and (3) a
Chaver can give advice and support for daily and business life.
Many of us in this synagogue — and far, far beyond — were privileged to call Dr. Peter
Salmon a close and treasured friend. He encompassed many of the characteristics described
by Rabbeinu Yonah. He was a teacher, a friend and a mentor.
After the tragedy that befell him, the Peter in the wheelchair was still, in essence, the
same Peter as before, an upright and dignified individual who knew the meaning of true
humility. For him, Seforim were not ornaments for his library but rather old friends, well-
used, full of his notes. He was someone who had finished Shas and was a Mishna-Yomit
devotee. He continued learning with his many chavrusahs even after his accident. His scope
of Torah lore was breathtaking.
Everyone loved him, not just his dear wife Roslyn and his family, but also friends, medical
and nursing staff, younger dentists who he mentored, patients, employees and his many
students, who cherish his lessons to this day.
And what are these lessons that a new generation holds so dear? Lessons that those who
came to Peter for advice, both before and after his accident, will remember for a lifetime.
These lessons can perhaps be summarized in the following words that were close to his heart:
Al tistakel b’kankan ela bema she’yesh bo – Do not look at the barrel but what is in it (Avot 4:27).
Peter would interpret this as meaning: Do not judge a person until you understand his
situation and the context of his behaviour. This philosophy on life is why people came to
Peter to chat, to discuss and to ask for his advice – because of his practical outlook, because
of his sensitivity to the real problems people face and because he did not judge them.
Peter gave another interpretation of this saying after his accident when he became para-
lyzed; when his breathing was so affected that it was difficult for him to speak. In this state,
he interpreted Al tistakel b’kankan ela bema she’yesh bo in a different way. As he said when a
sefer torah was dedicated in his honour by our shul:

When people look at me sometimes and do not know what to say, I tell them: ‘Al tistakel b’kankan
ela bema she’yesh bo – Do not look at the barrel, but look at the inside.’ And when they come and
feel the flame that burns inside the yid, it will ignite the flame in someone else.

15
 Editors’ Foreword

How many people have received chizuk from this individual, who would say of himself;
“I am just a pashut yid.” But he was so much more than that.
Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau, the former Chief Rabbi of Israel, recognized this right away. When
he was encouraged to visit Peter on his way to a meeting here in Toronto with the Vaad
HaRabbonim, Rabbi Lau thought it would be a quick visit to a choleh, a sick person. But the
visit lasted far longer than he expected as he stayed later and later to appreciate Peter’s vast
knowledge of previous Rabbonim and tzaddikim, as well as Rabbi Lau’s own family history in
the Holocaust. Even years later, Rabbi Lau was so taken by Peter that he always kept him
in his prayers.
So, what made Peter such a special and memorable person?
The answer is clear. The weaker Peter’s voice became, the stronger the flame of Yiddishkeit
burned inside him – and sometimes silence can be stronger than the spoken word. Peter’s
response to the calamity that befell him was silence. In short, he never complained about
the challenges Hakadosh Baruch Hu sent him. “Baruch Hashem” was his response to enquiries
about his health and welfare.
Since this journal is devoted to Pesach, let us remember the Peter who said: “You’ve
never really experienced Yom Tov until your Machzor is wet with tears and your Haggadah
is stained with wine.”

Dr. Gerard Klein, on behalf of the Editors

16
 A Note To The Reader
The views expressed in this journal are those of
the contributors alone. They do not necessarily
represent the views of the Editors or the rabbinic
leadership of the BAYT.
Pesah
 Hakhmei Lev

Yachatz: The Great Divide

rabbi baruch taub

Preface
Seder memories run deep for everyone. But perhaps the most prominent memory is
the moment of Yachatz, the breaking of the middle matzah into two halves at the beginning
of the Seder. All eyes are on Zeidy, or on Father, or on whoever may be running the Seder,
following him as he performs the ritual of Kadesh, Urchatz, Karpas, and finally Yachatz, when
he breaks the center matzah into two halves, placing one of the halves between the two
other matzot. And then all eyes, those of the children and of the “former children” at the
table, follow the hiding of the bigger half of matzah like detectives.1 To be honest, it is one
of my fondest childhood Seder memories, and I am sure it is a vivid memory for many of
you as well. But what is it really all about, and why do we ceremoniously break the matzah
at the beginning of the Seder? Interestingly enough, Rambam does not include Yachatz in
his Haggadah.2 So why do we actually carry out this ceremony? Why do we hide the second
half of the matzah?
Some are of the opinion that this an extension of the theme of k’dei she-yishalu ha-tinokot,
in order to increase the curiosity of the children attending the Seder and encourage them
to ask us about this diversion from our normal practice. Beit Yosef, in his commentary on
the Tur, mentions this as one of the three reasons for this practice.3 Let us think about this
answer. Just imagine the child asking his father why he broke the matzah and father answers
“in order to bring you to ask me about it.” Does not this response just add insult to injury?
There is, however, a novel educational tool that is embedded in this directive of the Rabbis.
The idea behind k’dei she-yishalu ha-tinokot, of stimulating questions, is that it develops and
encourages intellectual curiosity among children and among adults. This is the beginning
of the process of education.
I wish to explore the basis of the practice of breaking the middle matzah and argue for
an approach which goes beyond just the encouragement of questions both at the halachic

1. All of us were once children. On Seder night, the goal is to awaken our inner child again.
2. See Mishneh Torah, end of Hilchot Chametz U-matzah.
3. Beit Yosef, Orach Chayim 473.

BARUCH TAUB is the Rabbi Emeritus of the BAYT. He lives in Netanya, Israel.

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 Pesah

level as well as at the hashkafic level. Indeed, if we break the matzah just “so the kids should
ask,” it seems quite strange that we begin the entire Seder with a somewhat arbitrary act.
The prominent placement of Yachatz implies that there is more to this act than just stimu-
lating questions. I will argue that there is much more to Yachatz than what meets the eye.
The broken matzah, which we hide, holds the promise of a hidden dimension. In fact, the
act of breaking the matzah reveals a centerpiece of Jewish life and the Torah at large. It also
has a particular meaning for us, in these uncertain and challenging times in Jewish history.

Part 1: Yachatz: The Halachic Discussion

Let us begin with citing from the classical halachic literature regarding the practice of Yachatz.
The Rabbis of the Talmud write the following in Berachot (39b):

Rav Pappa said: Everyone agrees that while fulfilling the mitzvah of eating matzah on Passover,
one places the piece inside the whole and breaks it. What is the reason? With regard to matzah,
the phrase ‘bread of affliction’ (Devarim 16:3) is written, and the poor typically eat their bread
in pieces. Therefore, with respect to eating matzah on Passover evening, the broken matzah is
also significant.4

There is an additional source in the Talmud that makes reference to Yachatz in Pesachim
(115a) as well:

Shmuel said that the phrase: ‘The bread of affliction [lechem oni]’ (Devarim 16:3) means bread
over which one answers [onim] matters, i.e., one recites the Haggadah over matzah. That was
also taught in a baraita: Lechem oni is bread over which one answers many matters. Alternatively,
in that verse, the word ‘oni’ is actually written without a vav, [resulting in a word] which means
a poor person. Just as it is the manner of a poor person to eat a piece of bread for lack of a whole
loaf, so too, here, he should use a piece of matzah.

The Shulchan Aruch writes the following about Yachatz:

He should then take the middle matzah and break it into two halves, giving one half to one of the
assembled to guard it for use as the afikoman and it is placed under the tablecloth, and the second
half should be placed between the two whole matzot. He should then lift up the Seder plate (ke’ara)
with the matzot and say the passage ‘ha lachma anya’ until the ‘ma nishtanah.’5

Mishnah Berurah adds a crucial piece of information regarding the practice of Yachatz. He
states that, “It is preferable that the piece that is saved (for the afikoman) be the bigger half
of the two.”6

4. The Schottenstein Edition (Brachot 39b:2) translates the first sentence as follows: “One places the broken piece
of matzah inside (i.e. under) the whole matzah...”
5. Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim 473:6.
6. Mishnah Berurah 473:58.

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 Hakhmei Lev

The Questions
Given the above-cited sources, several questions arise:
1. Why would the Rabbis choose a seemingly technical act, of breaking the matzah, to be
included as a fundamental part of the Seder?
2. There seems to be a tension between two contradictory ideas and emotions in relation
to matzah. Matzah seems, on the one hand, to symbolize poverty and affliction (a poor
person eats broken pieces). On the other hand, it is the bread upon which we speak of
the redemption, the related concepts of freedom (cheirut), and reclining royalty or kicking
back (haseiba).
3. Why do we hide the broken half?
4. Why is the middle matzah used for this practice?
It should be pointed out that Rambam’s approach to this practice is entirely different
from that of most Rishonim. According to Rambam, we have only two matzot at the Seder.7
The majority of Rishonim, as codified in Shulchan Aruch, are of the opinion that we use
three matzot and we practice Yachatz as described above, at the beginning of the Seder. We
therefore will attempt to solve these questions with the assistance of several commentaries.

The Answers
The first Rebbe of Lubavitch, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi (also known as the Baal
HaTanya), authored a halachic work that is highly regarded by all Torah scholars, Hassidim
and non-Hassidim alike. This work is entitled Shulchan Aruch Ha-Rav. The Shulchan Aruch
Ha-Rav actually merges the two aspects of the broken piece of matzah into one halachic
principle. The matzah that should be used during the reading of the Haggadah must be a
halachically-defined matzah. Meaning, a matzah that is eaten by the poor and is present
when the sippur yetziat mitzrayim (the recounting of the Exodus from Egypt) is recited. The
broken matzah represents this. In this way, Shulchan Aruch Ha-Rav combines the two aspects
of matzah cited in the Talmud into one definition.8
Yet another different and innovative approach to the significance of breaking the matzah
at the beginning of the Seder was posited by Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach and recorded
by his students:

Breaking of the matzah—to fulfill the mitzvah of eating a piece of matzah—immediately after
the Kiddush is also, it seems, to show that we are already involved in the process of eating matzah.
Since the recitation of the Haggadah is also a component of the process of eating matzah, then
there is no actual gap (hefsek) between the Kiddush and the meal.9

In order to fully comprehend R. Shlomo Zalman’s novel idea we must first note a basic

7. Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Chametz U-matzah 8:6.

8. Shulchan Aruch Ha-Rav 473:36.
9. Halichot Shlomo, Moadim 9:29(56).

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 Pesah

halachah with regard to Kiddush in general which applies all year round. A fundamental
condition which validates the act of Kiddush is that it must be recited in the presence of a
meal. This general rule is termed Kiddush bi-makom seudah.10 On Seder night there is a long
break between Kiddush at the beginning of the Seder until we actually start eating the
meal. How then do we fulfill the requirement of Kiddush bi-makom seudah on the Seder night?
To address this, R. Shlomo Zalman suggests that the breaking of the matzah at Yachatz,
immediately after Kiddush, bridges the gap between the Kiddush and the subsequent meal.
This is because, by preparing the matzah for the Hamotzi blessing which will be said on the
broken matzah at the beginning of the meal, we are doing something related to the meal
immediately after Kiddush. Therefore, this single act of breaking the matzah connects the
Kiddush to the meal to be eaten later on during the night. According to this explanation,
the expression “breaking bread together” aptly describes the Seder.
Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, also known as the Netziv of Volozhin, was bothered
by an additional halachic concern regarding the broken matzah. As we are all aware, we
are particular to use two whole loaves of bread as lechem mishneh on Shabbat. How can we
then deliberately break a matzah into two pieces, in order to use the broken piece for the
blessing to be said later on during the Seder?11
The Netziv resolves this concern by introducing the idea that “whole” is a relative term
that is defined by the point when the matzah is received. We can comprehend this idea by
observing the baking process at a matzah bakery. In the first step, one man thoroughly
kneads a large piece of dough. The kneader then starts tearing off small pieces of dough,
distributing them to the assembled workers, who turn each small piece into a single matzah.
When we receive the single matzah we view it as a “whole” matzah, despite the fact that
in actuality it is a small piece torn from a large dough at the factory. Similarly, since there
is a lengthy time period separating the breaking and receiving of the matzah, by the time
the blessing over the broken matzah comes along, following this great divide, we should
view it as a “whole” matzah.12

Rambam’s Approach
All of the above relates to the position adopted by the vast majority of the Rishonim and
Poskim. However, Rambam takes a unique approach to Yachatz. Rambam, in his halachic
work Yad Ha-chazakah, provides us with a detailed list of the order of the Seder night:

Afterwards, he recites the blessing, al netilat yadayim, and washes his hands a second time, for
he diverted his attention [from his hands] during the time he was reciting the Haggadah. He

10. Parenthetically, this general rule poses a problem when we make Kiddush in shul on Shabbat morning. People
should make sure they eat a minimal amount of mezonot (a pastry for example), in order to fulfill the require-
ment of a seudah (meal). It should be noted that those who follow the Vilna Gaon will repeat Kiddush once
again upon sitting down to the main meal at home. See Maaseh Rav, 122.
11. Teshuvot Meishiv Davar 1:21.
12. Ibid.

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 Hakhmei Lev

takes two cakes [r’kikim, of matzah], divides [vi-cholek] one of them, places the broken half inside
the whole [cake] and recites the blessing, Hamotzi lechem min ha’aretz. Why does he not recite
a blessing on two whole loaves, as on other festivals? Because [Devarim 16:3] states ‘the bread
of poverty.’ Just as a poor person is accustomed to eating a prusa [broken loaf], so too a prusa
should be used [as a ‘whole’ loaf for lechem mishneh].13

According to Rambam, Yachatz is not a dramatic act carried out at the beginning of the
Seder. The “drama” of Yachatz at the beginning of the Seder seems to be substituted for by
a simple breaking of the matzah before Hamotzi in order to create a different kind of lechem
mishneh with two whole loaves of a different kind, the “whole matzah” being simply a prusa
[a broken piece].
It is noteworthy that Rambam initially says that one should use only two matzot (and not
three) at the Seder. Consequently, after breaking the matzah, Rambam cannot write that we
place the broken half between the two whole matzot, as there is only one whole matzah left.
Rambam therefore writes that one should place the broken matzah “into” the whole matzah.
Some understand this to mean that one should place the broken piece “under” the whole
matzah. Others understand this to mean that the matzot used by Rambam were soft and
flexible, similar to those used by many Sephardim until today. This matzah is reminiscent
of a pita that has a “pocket” for falafel. In this manner, one can literally place the broken
piece “into” the whole matzah.
There is an additional halachah which Rambam relates regarding the end of the Seder night:

Afterwards, one continues the meal, eating whatever one desires to eat and drinking whatever
one desires to drink. At its conclusion, one eats from the Paschal sacrifice, even [as small a portion
as] a kezayit, and does not taste anything afterwards. At present, one eats a kezayit matzah and
does not taste anything afterwards, so that after the completion of the meal, the taste of the
meat of the Paschal sacrifice or the matzah will [remain] in one’s mouth, for eating them is the
[essence of the] mitzvah.14

A careful reading of Rambam clearly shows that he describes the breaking of the matzah
for the afikoman as an act done immediately before it is eaten, at the end of the Seder. There
is no drama mentioned here of children hiding the broken piece to be used for the afikoman,
but rather a simple act of breaking the matzah immediately before it is eaten.
Rabbi Avraham Gershon Zaks, a grandson of the Chafetz Chayim, explains both citations
of Rambam in the following manner: It seems clear that both acts of breaking the matzah,
according to Rambam, are to be carried out right before they are to be eaten. The first act of
breaking is to be carried out before the eating it after Maggid, and the second act of breaking
is right before the eating of the afikoman.15

13. Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Chametz U-matzah 8:6.

14. Ibid. 8:9.
15. Hagadat Hagershuni.

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 Pesah

I believe that Rambam is of the opinion that the act of breaking the matzah is a function
related to the act of eating the matzah. The other Rishonim are of the opinion that the act
of breaking the matzah has significance of its own This is demonstrated by the fact that
breaking the matzah is done at the beginning of the Seder, a very long time before the act of
eating it. According to these Rishonim, it may be safely said that the breaking of the matzah
is a function of the Seder. Whereas, according to Rambam, the breaking of the matzah is a
function of the eating of the matzah.
Rambam’s opinion is clarified and explained quite differently by Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveit-
chik.16 R. Soloveitchik disagrees with the approach of Shulchan Aruch Ha-Rav mentioned above.
R. Soloveitchik is of the opinion that the two aspects of matzah, a poor person’s bread and
“bread that words (Maggid) are spoken over,” cannot be merged into one concept. To the
contrary, these are two separate concepts of matzah that are expressed at two different
times during the Seder night.
One aspect of matzah is lechem oni (the poor person’s bread). Matzah is the bread of the
poor because a poor person eats scraps. This aspect is totally related to the act of eating.
For this reason, Rambam attaches the breaking of the matzah that symbolizes the poor
person’s bread, to the act of eating. The matzah is not broken at the beginning of the Seder,
but rather right before the act of eating matzah after Maggid, and before the eating of the
afikoman at the end of the meal. So, it is quite literally “a poor person’s bread” because it is
eating the broken scrapes of matzah.
The second aspect of matzah is the bread over which the story of the triumph and the
Exodus is told. This aspect of matzah is not the poor person’s bread; it is rather a whole and
complete matzah. This is the matzah that is used from the beginning of the Seder through
Maggid until the meal itself. This is precisely why Rambam does not instruct us to break
the matzah at the beginning of the Seder.

Snatching The Matzah

There is a practice on Seder night of “snatching the matzah.” Although at first glance, the
snatching of the matzah seems unrelated to Yachatz, R. Soloveitchik draws a connection
between them. The custom of “matzah snatching” is codified by Rambam.17 I will present
here the standard translation of the passage. However, subsequently I will present an
alternative reading of this passage, as it appears in R. Soloveitchik’s explanation.
Here is the standard translation of the passage:

He should make changes on this night so that the children will see and will [be motivated to]
ask…What changes should be made?...Matzot should be snatched from each other and the like.18

16. Sefer Harerei Kedem 2:79.

17. Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Chametz U-matzah 7:3.
18. Ibid.

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 Hakhmei Lev

This translation is based on the common usage of the word chotfin in Hebrew, which is a
verb meaning “snatch.” Meiri, actually explains that our minhag today, of encouraging the
children to snatch the afikoman from the one conducting the Seder and to hide it, is based on
this passage of Rambam.19 Meiri clearly understands the term chotfin as “snatching.” Ravaad,
in his commentary on Rambam, understands the term chotfin to mean to do something
with “alacrity” or “speed.”20 According to this usage of the term, the minhag (custom) was
to pass the matzah from one to another quickly.
R. Soloveitchik adds that this practice inevitably would cause the matzah to break into
pieces, hence a “Yachatz moment” according to Rambam as well. The reason behind this
practice is to ensure that the children are awake and alert during the Seder, allowing them
to question and inquire about the different aspects of the Seder. For R. Soloveitchik, Rambam
is, in fact, introducing a view of a dramatic Yachatz. It is included at the very beginning of
the Seder as a function of the concept “in order that the children should ask.” However,
since this Yachatz is not universal, and is done only if there are children present, it is not
an official siman (stage) of the Seder.
I wish to add two related observations of my own, in relation to the idea presented by R.
Soloveitchik. First, Seder night is a concretization of many philosophical and historical ideas,
which are handed down through our mesorah (tradition), from generation to generation. For
example, we eat bitter herbs because it was bitter in Egypt. The idea of handing the matzah
from one to another, from parents to children, is an act symbolizing this passing down of
the mesorah to the next generation. This is in line with the words of the Haggadah, “cheiyav
adam lir’ot et atzmo k’ilu hu yatza mi-mitzrayim – each and every one of us must feel that he
himself had left Egypt.” The physical act of passing around the matzah enhances this feeling.
Second, according to the other Rishonim, only the one conducting the Seder is involved in
this form of transmission, because only he “snatches” the matzah. However, according to
Rambam, everyone at the Seder “snatches the matzah because everyone is involved in the
transmission of our mesorah through the “Yachatz act.”

How Can We “Pass Over” the Top Matzah?

There is a general rule known as “ein ma’avirin al ha-mitzvot.” This rule teaches us that if
one has an opportunity to perform a mitzvah you may not “skip over’’ this opportunity and
perform a different mitzvah. An example of the implementation of this rule is related to the
current coronavirus situation. Let us imagine a doctor who enters a hospital ward treating
corona patients and spots a relative lying on the tenth bed inside the room. May the doctor
run to treat his relative before the other patients? Rabbi Moshe Feinstein rules that doing
so would be in violation of ein ma’avirin al hamitzvot.21 In his view, the doctor must deal with
the first patient he encounters upon entering the ward.

19. Meiri, Beit HaBechirah, Pesachim 109.

20. Commentary on Rambam, Hilchot Chametz U-matzah 7:3.
21. Iggrot Moshe, Choshen Mishpat 2:73(2).

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 Pesah

Why then, do we “skip over” the top matzah and perform Yachatz on the middle matzah?
Truth be told, there is a disagreement among the Rishonim regarding this practice. Rokei’ah
and Smag rule that one should use the top matzah for Yachatz.22 We, however, follow the
opinion of Rosh and Mordechai who rule that one should use the middle matzah for Yachatz,
in line with the ruling of Shulchan Aruch.23
But what is the rationale behind this ruling of Rosh, Mordechai and Shulchan Aruch?
Although Bach24 attempts to explain the position of Mordechai, the latter does not need
any assistance, as he addressed this question himself:

The middle matzah is broken, and half is kept for the afikoman. We cannot say the top one is
broken because of the concept “you do not pass over a mitzvah” because there is no mitzvah
performed in breaking the matzah in two.25

Mordechai is actually telling us that Yachatz is not a violation of “passing over a mitzvah”
because Yachatz is, in fact, not a mitzvah! Yachatz is rather a re-enactment.
In summation, it is clear from a halachic perspective that Yachatz is fundamental to the
Seder. It is not an arbitrary or prosaic preparatory act before the Seder begins. Nor is it
merely to encourage the children to ask questions. According to the Baal HaTanya, the act of
breaking the matzah in two allows for the combination of the two aspects of matzah: poor
man’s bread and the bread over which we recite the Haggadah. For R. Shlomo Zalman, by
breaking the matzvah we join Kiddush with our meal. According to Rambam, as explained
by R. Soloveitchik, Yachatz highlights the matzah as the poor man’s bread and is actually
done immediately before we eat the matzah.
We have discussed why Yachatz is crucial for the Seder from a halachic vantage point.
However, I would like to argue that Yachatz is perhaps the most important act that we
perform at the Seder because of what it represents about us, about G-d, and about our
history. In the past, I have often cited the statement made by Rebbe Menachem Mendel of
Kotzk that there is nothing more complete, nothing more whole, than a broken heart. More
than this brokenness, which the matzah represents, the matzah which is broken into two
parts represents the historic Jewish experience.

Part 2: Yachatz: The Great Divide: The Centerpiece of Jewish life

Three Yachatz Moments

We find many “Yachatz moments” throughout Jewish life. Yachatz moments are essential
for Yiddishkeit.

22. See Beit Yosef, Orach Chayim 473 s.v. yayikach.

23. Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim 473:1.
24. Bach 473:11.
25. Mordechai, Hagaot 38.

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In addition to the actual Yachatz consisting of breaking the matzah at the beginning of
the Seder, we find another Yachatz moment during the Seder in the form of breaking up
the Hallel said during the Haggadah into two parts. Similarly, every Brit Milah is a Yachatz
moment in which we perform a physical separation in order to enter into a covenant with G-d.
Here are three major Yachatz moments in Jewish History.
The first Yachatz moment occurred at the very beginning of the world, at the time of Creation:

G-d saw that the light was good, and G-d separated between the light and the darkness…So G-d
made the firmament, and separated between the waters that were beneath the firmament and the
waters which were above the firmament. And it was so… And G-d made the two great luminaries…
And G-d set them in the firmament…to dominate by day and by night, and to separate between
the light and the darkness. And G-d saw that it was good.26

At the very beginning of Creation, G-d carried out several Yachatz moments by dividing
light from darkness, as well as dividing the water under the sky from the water above the
sky. Later in this chapter, G-d divided the animal species into several types and separated
them from the crawling insects. Incidentally, the recent coronavirus, according to one
theory, is said to have emanated from a combination of the DNA of a bat and the DNA of
another animal. Perhaps G-d’s “dividing” moments during Creation were crucial to the
world’s survival. If these “divides” were not implemented, it appears as though Creation
itself would not have been accomplished.
The Creation of Man was a dividing moment as well. Man was “divided” from the rest of
Creation because he was created “b’tzelem Elokim, in the image of G-d.” But what does “in
the image of G-d” mean? If someone from Mars would suddenly appear on earth, and we
would hand him a Chumash with the first parsha of Bereishit, he would learn two things
about G-d. Firstly, that G-d creates and secondly, that He divides. Throughout Bereishit G-d
is creating and dividing constantly. Consequently, Man, who was created in G-d’s image,
must be, like G-d, constantly involved in creating and dividing. In fact, Man is in his most
godly moments and is at his best, when he performs Yachatz, i.e., when he utilizes the ability
to divide and make distinctions in his life.
The second Yachatz moment in history is the Brit bein habetarim (the covenant of the pieces)
between G-d and Avraham Avinu. This covenant consisted of Avraham preparing a sacrifice
by breaking it precisely into two halves:

And He said to him, “Take for Me three heifers and three goats and three rams, and a turtle dove
and a young bird.” And he took for Him all these, and he divided them in the middle, and he placed
each part opposite its mate, but he did not divide the birds.27

26. Bereishit 1:4, 7, 16–18.

27. Bereishit 15:9–10.

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 Pesah

G-d then puts Avraham Avinu to sleep and reveals to him the covenant between Himself
and the Jewish people. This breaking “Yachatz moment” of the sacrifice was the preamble
to the next crucial four hundred years that shaped Jewish history. It is from this point in
history that Yitzchak wandered without any permanent home, Yaakov suffered, and later
the Jewish people were exiled to Egypt. This Yachatz moment eventually led to the nation
entering Eretz Yisrael and receiving it as our homeland.
The third Yachatz moment is the covenant which served as the preamble to Matan Torah
at Sinai.

And Moshe wrote all the words of the L-rd, and he arose early in the morning and built an altar
at the foot of the mountain and twelve monuments for the twelve tribes of Israel. And he sent the
youth and they offered up burnt offerings, and they slaughtered peace offerings to the L-rd, bulls.
And Moshe took half the blood and put it into the basins, and half the blood he cast onto the altar.
And he took the Book of the Covenant and read it within the hearing of the people, and they said,
“All that the Lord spoke we will do and we will hear.28

An additional preamble to the receiving of the Torah was another “breaking” moment in the
form of “splitting” the Sea of Reeds (yam suf).29 In fact, the Baalei Ha-Tosafot explain the practice
of Yachatz at the Seder as a reenactment of this “breaking” or “splitting” event.30 Once again,
we find that the preparatory act of the giving of the Torah at Sinai was a “Yachatz moment.”
Rashi writes that the division of the blood described in these verses was carried out by
an angel.31 Rabbi Yitzchak Hutner explains the necessity of performing the division only
by an angel. When forming a covenantal relationship between Man and G-d there is a need
for Divine intervention in order to precisely divide the blood in half.32

Why is a Yachatz Moment Necessary?

Each of these watershed moments in Jewish history share a common thread – a splitting
or dividing moment. In the Creation narrative, the covenant formed with Avraham Avinu,
and the revelation at Sinai, the drama is introduced with a “Yachatz moment.” Indeed,
Man is called on to imitate G-d by utilizing his creative abilities to both create and divide.
By creating divisions and distinctions within his life, Man brings the divine into his life.
Taking R. Hutner’s idea further, it appears that when establishing covenantal relationships,
as well as when living divinely, there is a need for dividing or splitting. Why do we need a
“breaking” moment in order to establish a stronger relationship with G-d? Why actually
“break” in order to become closer? How does separation bring about togetherness? This
counter-intuitive idea is reinforced by a Tannaic Midrash.

28. Shemot 24:4–7.

29. Shemot 14:21.
30. Daat Z’keinim Shemot 12:2.
31. Rashi Shemot 24:6.
32. Rabbi Yitzchak Hutner, Pachad Yitzchak, Shavuot, no. 41 (Gur Aryeh, 1983).

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The following dialogue, one of many, is reported in the name of Rabbi Yosi ben Halafta,
one of the Mishnah’s most prominent sages, in a conversation with an unnamed matron,
a Roman woman of rank:

Rabbi Yehudah bar Simon began: “G-d returns the solitary ones homeward” (Tehillim 58:7). A
Roman Matron asked Rabbi Yosi ben Halafta, “In how many days did G-d create the world?” He
said, “In six, as it is said, ‘Since six days G-d made...’(Shemot 20:11).” “And since then,” she asked,
“what has G-d been doing?” “G-d sits [on the Heavenly Throne] and makes matches: the daughter
of this one to that one, the wife [i.e. widow] of this one to that one, the money of this one to that
one,” responded R. Yosi. She said, “And for merely this you believe in Him! Even I can do that. I
have many slaves, both male and female. In no time at all, I can match them for marriage.” R. Yosi
responded, “Though this may be an easy thing for you to do, for G-d it is as difficult as splitting
the Sea of Reeds.” What did the Matron do? She went and matched her slaves, giving this man
to that woman, this woman to that man, and so on. Some time after, the couples argued, this
woman saying, ‘I do not want this man’ while another protested, ‘I do not want that woman.’
She admitted to R. Yosi, ‘There is no god like your G-d. It is true; your Torah is indeed beautiful
and praiseworthy.’33

R. Yosi’s response, that for G-d matchmaking is “as difficult as splitting the Sea of Reeds,”
requires explanation. Why would making a match, a shidduch, be compared to an act of
splitting? It would seem that the metaphor would make more sense if he had said, “A shid-
duch is as difficult as grafting two disparate fruits on a tree.”
The answer is that forging a covenantal relationship whether personal or national requires
a Yachatz moment. In order to become close to G-d we must separate ourselves from ungodly
ideas. We must make a Yachatz in order to become close to G-d. Similarly, when a chatan
and kallah wish to create a relationship, they are creating something that is set apart from
anyone else. It goes without saying that they must have a relationship with the rest of the
world. But their relationship, one with each other, must be one that is separate from the rest
of the world. It is for this precise reason that the blessings said at Sheva Brachot deal with
involvement in the world, in order to stress that this aspect is important as well. However,
they must create their own unique relationship independent of their obligation to society
outside their marriage.
This concept is true as well with regard to our unique relationship with G-d. Although
the Jewish people are separate from the world in this regard, we must engage with the rest
of the world. In fact, we have a responsibility to the rest of the world. We are distinct, but
we are “of” this world, but not above it!
There is yet another Yachatz moment in Jewish History that must be mentioned. This is
the moment when we broke the above-mentioned covenant between G-d and the Jewish
people that had been forged at the foot of Mount Sinai. The Jewish people created the golden

33. Bereishit Rabbah 68:4.

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 Pesah

calf. How does Moshe respond to this crisis? When Moshe sees the relationship between
G-d and the Jewish people in danger, what does he do to restore this relationship? Moshe
breaks the luchot (tablets) at the precise location of the original covenant, at the foot of the
mountain, tachat ha-har:

It happened as he drew near the camp and saw the calf and the dances, that Moshe’s anger flared
up. He threw down the Tablets from his hands and shattered them at the foot of the mountain.34

This was a premeditated, calculated act on the part of Moshe. What Moshe did was to shock
the Jewish people in order to get their attention. He managed to cause the Jewish people
to recalibrate their lives, through a “Yachatz moment.”
The Midrash comments:

To enter into the covenant with the L-rd your G-d even through His oath, Three covenants did the
Holy One make with Israel: one when they came out of Egypt, one when they stood before Mount
Sinai, and one here [under the mountain]. But why did he make a covenant with them here?
Because they had revoked the one that he had made with them on Sinai, when they said [of the
Golden Calf] ‘This is your G-d, O Israel.’35,36

If we follow the dialogue between Moshe and G-d following this episode we will realize that
every time Moshe asked something from G-d and G-d agreed to his request, Moshe followed
up by asking for something else. The final result is the following verse:

And He said: Behold! I will form a covenant; in the presence of all your people, I will make distinc-
tions [nifla’ot] such as have not been created upon all the earth and among all the nations, and
all the people in whose midst you are shall see the work of the L-rd, how awe inspiring it is that
which I will perform with you (Shemot 34:10).

This verse reveals to us that G-d did, in fact, restore the original covenant. The covenant
which was originally formed through a Yachatz moment at Sinai, was re-instituted by another
Yachatz moment (of breaking the luchot) as well! A careful reading of this verse reveals the
term nifla’ot, which is generally understood to mean “miracles,” is defined differently by
Rashi. He explains that in this context the term means that G-d will make “distinctions.”
G-d will make more Yachatz between you and the rest of the world.37
Seforno stresses the significance of this renewed covenant. The covenant now means that
wherever we go in Exile, G-d will be with us. The Jews went to Spain and G-d’s presence
was with us; so too in Turkey, in Auschwitz and finally back to Eretz Yisrael, G-d is with us:

34. Shemot 32:19.

35. Shemot 32:4.
36. Midrash Tanchuma Devarim 29:11.
37. Rashi, Shemot 34:10. The Hebrew phrase “nifla’ot a’aseh” is an expression related to the word v-nifleinu, meaning
“and we shall be distinguished” [and separated from all the nations]. See Shemot 33:16.

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Behold! I will form a covenant to be in your midst” (Shemot 34:10). When the Jewish people were
exiled to Babylonia the presence of the L-rd was “exiled” together with them, i.e. accompanied
them. When they were exiled to Eylam the same was true. Even when they were exiled to Edom
(by the Romans) this remained true.38
When Moshe carried out this Yachatz moment by breaking the luchot, G-d’s reaction was as
follows, as cited by Rashi on the final verse of the entire Chumash:
Never again has there arisen in Israel a prophet like Moshe… as evidenced by…all the strong hand
and awesome power that Moshe performed before the eyes of all Israel.39
Rashi explains the phrase “before the eyes of all Israel”:
This refers to the fact that his heart inspired him to shatter the Tablets before their eyes, as it is
said, (Devarim 9:17) “And I broke them before your eyes” (Sifrei, Devarim 357:45), and the opinion
of the Holy One, blessed be He, regarding this action agreed with his opinion, as it is stated that
G-d said of the Tablets (Shemot 34:1) asher shibarta, meaning “which you have broken,” [imply-
ing] “May your strength be fitting (asher/yasher as in yasher koach, an expression of thanks and
congratulation) because you have broken them” (Yevamot 62a; Shabbat 87a).40
G-d was telling Moshe, you understood what had to be done in this situation. You understood
that you must carry out a Yachatz moment in order to get the attention of the Jewish people.

Hiding the Bigger Piece

Returning to the original questions:
Why would the Rabbis choose a seemingly technical act, of breaking the matzah, as a
fundamental part of the Seder? Why do we hide the broken half? Why is the middle matzah
used for this practice?
Clearly the breaking of the matzah is not a technical or preparatory act. It is an essential
message throughout all of Jewish history. On the night we retell the Exodus from Egypt and
the story of our people, recalling our “Yachatz moments” in which we, as a people, formed
a covenantal bond with G-d. The idea behind hiding the bigger piece of the broken matzah
is simple. The focus of a covenant is not what was achieved in the time that has elapsed
in the relationship, represented by the smaller piece. Rather the emphasis is the renewed
relationship moving forward, the larger piece. There are endless possibilities to implement
this renewed relationship with G-d.

Our Current Yachatz Moment

Not only are “Yachatz moments” essential in our history and for our relationship with our
spouses, and with G-d, we are currently living in a “Yachatz moment,” a broken moment.
We are currently struggling to balance the two aspects of matzah: the lechem oni, the poor,

38. Seforno Shemot 34:10.

39. Shemot 34:10–12.
40. Rashi Devarim 34:12.

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 Pesah

the sadness, and the anxiety. While at the same time, we experience the “bread over which
the story of the triumph and the Exodus is told,” with praise and thanks to G-d for the good-
ness that He gives us. However, this is not new to the Jewish people. A respected Canadian
academic named John Kenneth Galbraith once said that, “The mark of a true philosopher
is one who can grasp two polar opposite philosophical ideas at once, defend them both, and
live at peace with both ideas.” Actually, Galbraith was saying, in modern terms, something
that the Chazon Ish stated a half-century earlier.
Rambam writes that one of the conditions of prophecy is simchah (happiness).41 It is said
in the name of the Chazon Ish that even the Lamentations of Megillat Eicha were written
by Yirmiyahu HaNavi through prophecy in a state of simcha.42 This means, said the Chazon
Ish, that a Jew can hold onto two opposing emotions at once, and survive. This is how we
have survived and this is how we will survive our current situation as well. We have two
contradicting ideas running through our lives right now. However, we must understand
that the Yachatz moment that we are living through is a preamble to better times. To borrow
a popular contemporary phrase, the Yachatz moment is the “AHA!” moment in the Jewish
experience.
At the end of the Seder, we declare “L’shanah haba’ah bi-Yerushalyim – Next year in Jerusalem.”
The most profound national Yachatz moment was the Yachatz of the Temple, the destruction
of the Temple. But we pray that we will merit to see the restored Beit Hamikdash very soon.
Our learning and our mitzvot, our simchat ha-chaim, and our accepting and embracing G-d
will bring that about.

This article was originally delivered as the Derashat Shabbat Hagadol 5780/2020 at
the Israel Center of the Orthodox Union in Jerusalem during the 2020 lockdown.

41. Mishneh Torah, Yesodei Ha-Torah 7:4.

42. I confirmed this citation of the Chazon Ish with Rabbi Meir Greineman, the Rosh Yeshiva of the Kollel Chazon
Ish in Bnei Brak. He added that the Chazon Ish said that Yermiyahu composed Eicha with the nusach (tune)
of Megillas Esther.

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Pour Out Your Wrath Or Your Love?

Establishing the Authentic Text
And Message of the Haggadah 1
rabbi shmuel lesher

‫ כי אכל את יעקב‬.‫שפוך חמתך על הגוים אשר לא ידעוך ועל הממלכות אשר בשמך לא קראו‬
.‫ תרדוף באף ותשמידם מתחת שמי ה׳‬.‫ שפוך עליהם זעמך וחרון אפך ישיגם‬.‫ואת נוהו השמו‬
Pour out Your wrath upon the nations that did not know You and upon the kingdoms that did not
call upon Your Name. Since they have consumed Ya’akov and laid waste his habitation (Tehillim
79:6–7). Pour out Your fury upon them and the fierceness of Your anger shall reach them (Tehillim
69:25). Pursue them with anger and eradicate them from under the skies of the Lord (Eikha 3:66).2

Shefokh Hamaskha,the passage in the Haggadah in which we ask G-d to pour out His
wrath upon the nations of the world, is a combination of four Biblical verses.3 It stands out
as one of the most provocative texts within our liturgy. Its seemingly vengeful nature could
not be more out of sync with the joyous and celebratory mood of Seder night. Moreover,
the prayer itself is perplexing. As the Talmud (Berakhos 10a) concludes, it is preferable to
pray for the repentance of sinners, rather than to ask G-d to mete out punishment upon the
sinners themselves. However, in Shefokh Hamaskha, we explicitly ask G-d, in no uncertain
terms, to express His wrath and fury by eradicating our enemies.
Aside from the moral question, for some, the very act of requesting the destruction of our
enemies may be uncomfortable. Generally, given our current social context, many may feel
uneasy expressing anger or the desire for vengeance. In a society in which we generally do

1. My thanks to Rabbi Ron Yitzchak Eisenman who was the inspiration for this title.
2. Haggadah Shel Pesah.
3. Although most contemporary Haggados only include four Biblical verses in Shefokh Hamaskha, Rabbi Menachem
Kasher notes that there are versions that have up to 17 verses all about the non-Jews being destroyed. See R.
Menachem Kasher, Haggadah Sheleimah, (Machon Torah Shleimah, 1956), 177–180.

SHMUEL LESHER is the Assistant Rabbi of the BAYT and an editor of the Hakhmei Lev journal. He is currently
pursuing a Master’s Degree in Mental Health Counseling at the Ferkauf School of Psychology.

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not feel threatened by anti-semitism, how are we to understand the message of this prayer
and its prominent placement within the Haggadah?

The Origins of Shefokh Hamaskha

As the history of Shefokh Hamaskha demonstrates, there are parts of the Haggadah that have
evolved over time. The inclusion of Shefokh Hamaskha in the text of the Haggadah is well
documented by the early 15th century. The following illustrated Haggados from the 15th and
16th centuries all include Shefokh Hamaskha:

Shefokh Hamaskha Shefokh Hamaskha

Haggadah from Darmstadt, Germany Haggadah from Mantua, Italy
(1420). Israel b. Meir of Heidelberg (1550)

Shefokh Hamaskha
Haggadah from Prague (1556)

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 Hakhmei Lev

In addition to these 15th and 16th century Haggados that include Shefokh Hamaskha, the image
of a donkey in the later two is also noteworthy. Some have claimed that there is no basis for
a connection between Shefokh Hamaskha and Eliyahu coming to the seder. However, as Eliezer
Brodt has noted, these Haggados show this is not the case.4 In fact, I will discuss below the
connection between Shefokh Hamaskha and the redemption. Perhaps this may explain the
relevance of a donkey. There is a tradition that Eliyahu Ha-Navi will be riding on a donkey
when he delivers the news that the redemption has arrived.
However, Shefokh Hamaskha does not appear in the Haggadah of Rambam (1138–1204)
or in the Haggadah of Rabbi Saadia Gaon (882–942). This omission has led many scholars
to assume that Shefokh Hamaskha, was added to the original text of the Haggadah at some
point in history.
The Rama attributes the practice of reciting Shefokh Hamakha at the Seder to the Ran,
dating its inclusion back to the 14th century.5 But it appears that Shefokh Hamaskha actually
goes back even further. Historically, the earliest undisputed source which includes Shefokh
Hamaskha as part of the Haggadah is the Mahzor Vitry.6 The Mahzor Vitry was written in the
12th century by Rabbi Simha of Vitri, a student of Rashi.

Pour Out Your Wrath Or Pour Out Your Love?

Shefokh Hamaskha’s provocative tone caused some to search for an alternative text. My
first encounter with an alternative to Shefokh Hamaskha was in the Rabbi Jonathan Sacks
Haggadah. In this Haggadah, R. Sacks writes:

In one manuscript from Worms, 1521, there is a unique addition to the Haggadah, alongside Pour
Out Your Wrath. It is a prayer of thanks for the righteous gentiles throughout history, who, rather
than persecuting Jews, befriended them and protected them in times of danger:
Pour out your love on the nations who know You.
And on kingdoms who call Your name.

4. Eliezer Brodt, “The Cup for the Visitor: What lies behind the Kos Shel Eliyahu,” Seforim Blog (March 18, 2013).
5. See his gloss to the Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayim no. 480 as well as his Darkei Moshe, Ibid. The Ran’s statement
appears in his commentary on the Rif, Pesahim 19a.
6. Mahzor Vitry, Hilkhos Pesah, no. 97. See Daniel Goldschmidt (ed.), Haggadah Shel Pesach, (Bialik, 1969), 62–64. Israel
Yuval claims that all signs indicate that it was compiled in Europe, apparently by Franco-Ashkenazic Jews.
See his Two Nations In Your Womb: Perceptions of Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages, translated
by Barbara Harshav and Jonathan Chipman (University of California Press, 2006), 123.
Although it does appear in the Seder Rav Amram Gaon, a work from the late 9th century, scholars have noted
that since many additions and textual changes were introduced into this work, it is difficult to discern its
original text. Most surprising is the claim of R. Menachem Kasher. He suggests that according to R. Yehudah
Sir Lion, one of the Baalei HaTosafos and teacher of the S’mag, Shefokh Hamaskha dates back all the way to the
days of the Talmud Yerushalmi. See his Haggadah Sheleima, 177n1.
However, this claim is not convincing. The Yerushalmi in Pesahim (10:1) does record an opinion that says the
four cups of wine parallel four cups of peril that the nations of the world will drink when redemption comes.
But although the S’mag does quote his teacher, Rabbi Yehuda Sir Lion, who says this is a reference to Shefokh
Hamaskha, the Yerushalmi does not explicitly make any mention of Shefokh Hamaskha.

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 Pesah

For the good which they do for the seed of Jacob.

And they shield Your people Israel from their enemies.
May they merit to see the good of Your chosen
And to rejoice in the joy of Your nation.7

I discovered after further research that this addition, sometimes referred to as Shefokh
Ahavaskha, was published by the bibliographer Naftali Ben-Menahem in 1963.8 It was suppos-
edly discovered by Rabbi Hayyim Bloch (1881–1970) in a Haggadah from the estate of Rabbi
Shimshon Wertheimer (1658–1724). R. Bloch claimed that this Haggadah was edited in Worms
in 1521 by Rabbi Yehudah ben R. Yekusiel, the grandson of Rashi. R. Bloch attributes its
disappearance from circulation to the Holocaust.9 However, a number of scholars believe that
this prayer was most likely not composed in Worms in 1521, but rather by R. Bloch himself. 10
Notwithstanding its questionable origins, in recent years, some contemporary Haggados
not only have included it as an addition but actually replaced “Pour Out Your Wrath” with
“Pour Out Your Love.”11
To the mind of this author, this does not resolve the issue. Besides the issue of excising
a text that has been included in the Haggadah since the 12th century, Shefokh Hamaskha is a
collection of Biblical verses. Clearly, no matter how uncomfortable someone may be with
them, removing these verses from the Biblical canon is completely unacceptable. What
good does it do to remove these verses from the Haggadah when these same verses remain
part of the Biblical canon? Even if one wants to make the unlikely claim that “Pour out
Your Love” is in fact authentic and was authored in Worms in 1521, it is more likely a form
of self-censorship to avoid anti-Semitism than an appreciation of righteous gentiles. In any
event, “Pour out Your love,” does not solve the issue of the jarring and vengeful sentiment
of Shefokh Hamaskha.

The Opening of the Door

Another feature of Shefokh Hamaskha is the practice of opening the door to recite it. The Rama
writes that this practice is to recall the protective nature of the night of the Seder, referred
to as “Leil Shemurim.” According to the Rama, the act of opening the door displays our faith

7. The Rabbi Jonathan Sacks Haggada, (Maggid, 2003), 120.

8. Naftali Ben-Menahem, Mahanayim, 80 (Tel Aviv, 1963), 95.
9. R. Hayyim Bloch, Heikhel Li-Divrei Hazal U-Pisgimeihem, (Pardes and Shoulson Press, 1948), 592. See Alan Brill,
“Pour Out Thy Love Upon The Nations And Miriam At The Seder,” Kavvanah (March 23, 2010). R. Bloch writes
that R. Yehuda ben R. Yekusiel was a nekhed (grandson) of Rashi. However, this is impossible. Rashi died in
1105 and could not have had a grandson alive in 1521 to edit this Haggadah. Perhaps R. Bloch meant R. Yehuda
ben R. Yekusiel was a descendant of Rashi. Or perhaps even more likely, this error is yet further evidence of
the fabrication of Shefokh Ahavaskha.
10. Brill, Ibid. and Marc Shapiro, “More On Chaim Bloch,” Seforim Blog (April 22, 2010). As Shapiro notes, this is not
the only controversial work that scholars believe R. Bloch fabricated. However, assuming it was not composed
in Worms in 1521, R. Bloch’s motivation for forging a new rendition of Shefokh Hamaskha remains unclear.
11. Brill, Ibid.

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in G-d’s protection. He adds that it is in the merit of this act of faith that the Messiah will
come. Then, at this point, Hashem will pour out His anger upon our enemies.12
Other commentators also see Shefokh Hamaskha as a reference to the future redemption.
The Vilna Gaon notes that we interrupt the recitation of Hallel at the Seder by eating the
meal. This is because the first half of Hallel is particular to the Egyptian redemption while
the second half of Hallel, beginning with “Lo Lanu” is about the future universal redemption
of the entire world. Shefokh Hamaskha, which asks G-d to destroy our enemies, is recited after
Birkas Ha-Mazon because “ the glory of the righteous cannot rise up until the sinners are
consumed.”13 Similarly, Rabbi Eliezer Waldenberg also interprets Shefokh Hamaskha as the
introduction to the second part of Hallel, in which we hope for the final redemption when
evil will be destroyed and Hashem’s justice will reign.14
According to the Vilna Gaon and R. Waldenberg, the recitation of Shefokh Hamaskha is
completely consistent with the themes of the Seder. At the Seder, as we celebrate our free-
dom from slavery, we thank G-d for redeeming us from Egypt. This celebration focuses on
the particular redemption of the Jewish people. However, there is also a larger and more
universal redemption that we give voice to at the Seder when we hope and pray for the
ultimate redemption and the messianic era. Reciting Shefokh Hamaskha at the Seder is part
of our hope for the future redemption. By definition, part of the fulfillment of the ultimate
redemption is the retribution and punishment of those who are deserving of it. In the end
of days we pray that all will become clear and that the righteous will be rewarded and the
wicked punished.

A Historical View of Shefokh Hamaskha

Rabbi Menachem Kasher provides a historical perspective to the practice of opening the
door before saying Shefokh Hamaskha.15 R. Kasher argues that at times of anti-Semitic perse-
cution, the Jewish people opened their doors at the Seder to literally look outside to see
if there were any spies waiting by the door to report them to the government for saying
negative things about non-Jews.16 In fact, the Ohr Zaruah cites Rabbi Nissim Gaon (990–1062)
who says in the name of his father that the practice was to leave the doors open the entire
night of the Seder.17 Rabbi Daniel Sperber argues that only later, because they feared their
anti-Semitic Christian neighbors outside, Jews began to limit the practice of opening the
door to the recitation of Shefokh Hamaskha.18

12. Rama on the Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayim, 480:1.

13. Haggadah Shel Pesach, Peninei Ha-Gaon Mi-Vilna, (Bnei Brak, 2008), 214.
14. Tzitz Eliezer 18:28.
15. Haggadah Shleimah, 180.
16. Ibid.
17. Ohr Zaruah, Vol. 2, no. 234. For more on this see R. Daniel Sperber, Minhagei Yisrael, Vol. 6 (Mossad Harav Kook,
1998), 129.
18. R. Daniel Sperber, Minhagei Yisrael, Vol. 3 (Mossad Harav Kook, 1995), 82.

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 Pesah

R. Sperber cites historian Cecil Roth who documents the practice on Easter for a number
of European Christian communities to throw stones at their Jewish neighbors’ homes. In
fact, when Easter fell on the same day as Pesah, Jews would refer to it as “Yimei HaHesger”
(Days of Enclosure) – a reference to the isolation period a metzorah (a leper) must undergo,
used to describe a time when the Jews had to hide in their homes for fear of being pelted
with rocks.19 Accordingly, R. Sperber suggests that the practice of opening the door at the
Seder was moved to accompany the recitation of Shefokh Hamaskha intentionally. We are
asking G-d to pour out punishment on those who “poured out” or threw stones on us during
this time period.
A different historical explanation for Shefokh Hamaskha and the opening of the door was
offered in the name of Rabbi Yosef Salant. The Gemara (Pesahim 85b–86a) says that in the
time of the Temple, even though people were not allowed to eat the Pesah sacrifice on their
roofs, they would go onto their roofs to sing Hallel. In his Haggadah Isamach Av, Rabbi Eli
Baruch Shulman quotes the Devar Shmuel, who says that his grandfather, R. Yosef Salant,
used this practice to explain our practice of opening our doors when we recite Shefokh
Hamaskha.20 Because the Pesah sacrifice had to be eaten by a specifically designated group in
a specific place, the practice was that people would close the doors to their homes to ensure
that everyone ate the Pesah in its correct place. Once they finished eating, they would then
open their doors to go up to their roofs to sing Hallel. Therefore, in commemoration of this
ancient practice of singing Hallel on the rooftops, we too open our doors.21

Why The Wrath and Why Their Destruction?

What still remains unanswered is the moral question. Why do we pray for our enemy’s
annihilation? As we noted, doesn’t the Talmud prefer the repentance of sinners to their
destruction?
Rabbi Moshe Yaakov Weingarten, in his Ha-Seder Ha-Arukh, cites an explanation of Rabbi
Tzadok Rabinowitz of Lublin in order to answer why we do not pray for our enemies to
repent.22 R. Tzadok explains that when it comes to those who commit evil towards G-d, we

19. Apparently the rationale for this cruel behavior was that the Jews are purported to have thrown stones at
Jesus on Palm Sunday as he was parading through Jerusalem the week before his crucifixion. See R. Sperber,
Minhagei Yisrael, 6, 129–133. I am indebted to Rabbi Daniel Korobkin for these sources.
Similarly, Rabbi Shlomo Riskin suggests that because of its proximity to Easter, during the Passover season,
claims of blood libels that accused Jews of killing gentile babies and using their blood to prepare matzah and
the wine for the Seder were often made. This made it necessary to open the door and look out into the street,
lest a dead baby had been placed near the home to provide a mob with pretext to ravage and kill. R. Riskin
claims that it was not at all rare to see Jewish families driven from their homes and Jewish populations from
their villages in the middle of Seder night to escape certain injury and even death. See R. Shlomo Riskin, The
Passover Haggadah (Ktav, 1983), 128–129.
20. R. Shmuel Baruch Eliezrov, Devar Shmuel, Pesahim 86a.
21. R. Eli Baruch Shulman, Haggadah Yisamah Av (Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary, 2017), 116–117. I am
indebted to Rabbi Gil Student for this source. See R. Gil Student, “Seder on the Rooftops,” Torah Musings (March
27, 2017).
22. R. Moshe Yaakov Weingarten, Ha-Seder Ha-Arukh, Vol. 2, Siddur Leil Pesah Bi-Agaddah (Jerusalem, 1992), 249n20.

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pray for them to repent. However, when it comes to those who kill other people and are
evil to human beings, we don’t pray for them to mend their ways. According to R. Tzadok,
in a form of middah ki-neged middah — a proportional response — we don’t seek out good
for those who have actively harmed us.23

Limiting the Scope of Shefokh Hamaskha

In order to address its vengeful message, some commentators have limited the scope of those
to whom Shefokh Hamaskha refers. Perhaps the most radical defense of Shefokh Hamaskha
was offered by Rabbi Eliezer Ashkenazi (1512–1582):

These verses [are referring to] those who deny the fact of the Exodus with all of its signs and
miracles. [However], it is very clear that all non-Jews amongst whom the Jews are scattered,
are aware of the Exodus, are convinced of its occurrence and understand its meaning. Therefore,
we are saying specifically that G-d should not pour out His wrath upon those who do know His
name…Only [pour out Your wrath upon] those who serve idols and who deny the creation of the
world. Those who destroyed the Temple were idol-worshipers...But the Christians and Muslims
of today do know G-d and recognize the fact of the Exodus. Heaven-forbid that our religion would
require us to curse them.24

R. Ashkenazi’s view was influential well beyond his day. Almost 300 hundred years later, Rabbi
Dr. Marcus Lehmman (1831–1890), the well-respected German rabbi and author, includes a
lengthy translated excerpt of R. Ashkenazi’s passage in his commentary on the Haggadah.25
Along similar lines, Rabbi Eleazer Fleckeles (1754–1826), a student of Rabbi Yehezkel Landau
(1713–1793, also known as the Nodeh Bi-Yehuda), clarifies who the subject is of Shefokh Hamaskha.
In the introduction to his halakhic responsa, Teshuvah Mi-Ahavah, R. Fleckeles argues that
passages within the Talmud and other works that discriminate against gentiles refer only
to ancient pagans and not to contemporary non-Jews. An example of one such passage is
Shefokh Hamaskha.26 According to R. Ashkenazi and R. Fleckeles, in Shefokh Hamaskha, the
Psalmist specifically singles out the non-Jews who “do not know Your name.” This implies

23. R. Tzadok Rabinowitz, Tzidkas HaTzadik, no. 71.

24. R. Eliezer Ashkenazi, Maaseh Hashem, Vol. 2 (Warsaw, 1871), 36–37.
25. Lehmann’s Passover Hagadah (J. Lehmann, 1969), 272–274. The original can be found in Marcus Lehmann, Hagadah
schel Pessach mit Erläuterungen von Dr. M. Lehmann (Frankfurt-am-Main, 1918), 162–164. I am indebted to Rabbi
Dr. Moshe Y. Miller for this source. See his “Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch and Nineteenth Century German Orthodoxy
on Judaism’s Attitude Towards Non-Jews,” Doctoral Dissertation (Yeshiva University, 2014), 167–169. Miller notes
that in the Hebrew edition of the Lehmann Haggadah, the R. Ashkenazi’s citation was removed without any
editorial explanation. See Haggadah Shel Pesach Im Peirush Meir Nativ (Bnei Brak, 1967), 252–253. Miller suggests
that the editors of this edition seem to have felt either that R. Ashkenazi’s words have no significance to con-
temporary world of Haredi Jews in Israel, or perhaps that they were written apologetically.
26. R. Eleazer Fleckeles, Teshuva Mi-Ahava, 3 volumes (Prague, 1809–1821), introduction titled Kesus Enayim. For more
on R. Fleckeles and this work see my forthcoming, “From The Pages Of Tradition: Rabbi Eleazer Fleckeles: An
Early Rabbinic Humanist,” Tradition 54:2 (Spring 2022), 133–149.

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 Pesah

that non-Jews, who do in fact know G-d’s name, do not deserve any form of punishment
or wrath.
In support of this distinction, Rabbi Hanan Balk, my father-in-law, notes that it is none
other than Pharaoh himself who says that he does not know G-d. As is recorded in the Torah,
Pharaoh says, “Who is this G-d that I should listen to Him and let Israel go? I do not know
G-d, nor will I let Israel go” (Shemos 5:1).27
It should be noted that whatever explanation resonates most, we must recognize that
before we question the morality of Shefokh Hamaskha in our current social context, we need
to remember that the world today is very different from the world of yesteryear. To be sure,
anti-Semitism is still very real today. However, in the past, Jews often suffered from violent
pogroms and attacks on a regular basis. The fact that there were those who “devoured Yaakov”
was not an abstract concept, or a shocking aberration of the norm, it was their everyday
reality. In that context, it is completely natural and understable to associate redemption
with the defeat of our enemies.
In fact, given the Jewish people’s history of persecution, R. Jonathan Sacks notes the level
of restraint displayed in the Haggadah:

For centuries, Jews suffered a series of devasting blows – massacres, pogroms, forced conversions,
inquisitions, confinement to ghettos, punitive taxation, and explusions, culminating, in the very
heart of “enlightened” Europe, in the Holocaust. Yet these verses [...] are almost the only trace
left by this experience on the Haggadah, the night we recall our past.28

Rabbi Norman Lamm offers an astute psychological insight into how we as Jews have
historically endured persecution, and yet did not allow hatred or vengefulness to poison us:

Those who give verbal expression to their enmity are usually the least likely to act upon it. Those
who acknowledge, as we do every Wednesday morning [in the Psalm of the day], that G-d is a
Kel Nekamos (“G-d of vengeance”) (Psalms 94:1), are least likely to appoint themselves the official
executioners on His behalf. To have to keep your righteous resentment pent up within, without
release, is like not being able to perspire. It keeps the poison inside your system and destroys it.
When the steam of indignation at the humiliations and indignities we have had to endure over
the centuries builds up pressure within us, we give it release – in this case, by reciting the Shefokh
Hamaskha. Then both we and the world are all better for it.29

Giving voice to the pain we have suffered as a people over the centuries has great therapeutic
value. On Seder night, when we tell the story of our People and our collective memory, we
must make mention of our suffering because that is part of the Jewish story. By telling the
uglier side of the story, within the context of hope and redemption, we are able to process

27. Subsequently I found that the Arizal, as recorded by his student Rabbi Hayyim Vital, makes this point in Peri
Eitz Hayyim, Shaar Hag Hamatzos, 7:55.
28. The Koren Haggada, with commentary by Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks (Koren, 2017), 133.
29. R. Norman Lamm, The Royal Table, (Ktav, 2010), 106–107.

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the injustices we have suffered, while at the same time avoid carrying resentment and
anger over our past with us.
In conclusion, the meaning of Shefokh Hamaskha is multidimensional. Some limit its
subject to those who actively target Jews. Some interpret it not as a call to arms, but as a
prayer for the fulfillment of the redemption; a prayer for divine justice. While others see it
as a therapeutic exercise to assuage our people’s suffering. After exploring and researching
this topic, I read Shefokh Hamaskha in a new light. I hope and pray for a time when evil will
be destroyed and when all Jews and non-Jews will live in peace and know G-d’s name. May
it come speedily in our days.

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 Pesah

Karpas, Yoseph and the

Final Redemption
danny berger

Relationship Between Karpas and Yoseph1

On Pesach Seder night we perform karpas immediately after Kiddush in an effort to
tweak the children’s curiosity about the Seder being different from our standard Shabbos
and Yom Tov meals. The intention is to trigger the children to ask questions allowing us
to fulfill the mitzvah of sippur yetzias mitzrayim – the biblical obligation to relate the story
of the Jewish nation’s exodus from Egypt. The question to ask is why specifically karpas to
achieve this objective?
Rabeinu Ma’noach in his commentary on the Rambam tells us:

The karpas segment of the Pesach Seder is a zecher (remembrance) to the k’sones ha’passim
(fine woolen coat) that Yaakov Avinu made for Yoseph which eventually lead to the decent of our
forefathers to Egypt.2

There seems to be a relationship between the word karpas and the phrase k’sones passim. The
Talmud3 tells us karpas is a compound of the words “kar” and “pas” commonly translated as
“cushions of fine wool.” Additionally, Rashi in Parshas Vayeshev4 actually links the phrase
k’sones passim with the word karpas through the words “karpas u’techeles” as stated in Megillas
Esther5 and translated as “white cotton and blue wool.”
Given the etymological connection between the word karpas and the phrase k’sones passim
what emerges is a linkage between the story surrounding Yoseph’s coat and the story of

1. Inspired by Daf Ha’Yomi shiurim given by Rabbi Sruly Bornstein.

2. Sefer Ha’Menuchah on Mishneh Torah, Hilchos Chometz U’Matzah 8:2.
3. Megillah 12a.
4. Bereishis 37:3.
5. Megilas Esther 1:6 (incidentally, this is the only place in Tanach where the word karpas appears.

DANNY BERGER is an Account Executive in the foreign currency industry. Together with his wife, Shirley, he
has proudly raised their four children at the BAYT, where they have been members since 2000.

44
 Hakhmei Lev

the Egyptian exile. The Talmud offers a lesson from Chazal which solidifies this connection
very clearly:

A person should never treat one son differently than his other sons. For on account of two selaim’s
weight of fine wool that Yaakov gave to Yoseph in excess of what he gave to his other sons, in
making him the special coat, his brothers became jealous of him and the matter evolved until
Yoseph was sold by his brothers and our forefathers descended to Egypt.6

So we see karpas is linked to this special coat on a couple of levels and we are told that the
story of Yaakov favouring Yoseph through the special coat is what ultimately lead to our
forefathers decent to Egypt. The coat caused jealousy and the brothers throwing Yoseph
into a pit. After being sold several times, ending up in Egypt and after numerous turns of
events, Yoseph becomes second “in” command of Egypt which was the great superpower
of its time. According to the very familiar and lengthy Torah narrative, eventually all of
Yaakov Avinu’s children end up in Egypt, leading to their bitter enslavement under the evil
Pharaoh. This long sequence of events began with the k’sones passim – Yoseph’s infamous
coat. It is for this reason that we start Seder night specifically with the karpas ceremony in
order to commemorate the event that precipitated the entire story of the Egyptian exile.7
This raises a further question. If Yoseph’s special coat was the source of much pain and
suffering for our forefathers, why do we reference it to start our seder? It seems to shift our
focus away from the brutal Egyptian enemy and towards the enslavement being somewhat
our own fault in the first place. Why invoke that memory and connection to the seder story
at this time?
To deepen the question further while at the same time leading us to a possible answer,
consider the following special Yehi Ratzon prayer that many recite at the conclusion of
birkas kohanim on Yom Tov. It is a beautiful prayer in which we seek Hashem’s blessing for
parnassah, favour and kindness. Curiously however, Yoseph’s k’sones passim is mentioned in
this special plea:

And may You bestow upon me and upon all the souls of my household, our food and our susten-
ance – generously and not sparsely, honestly and not in forbidden fashion, pleasurably and not in
pain – from beneath your generous hand, just as You gave a portion of bread to eat and clothing
to wear to our father Yaakov who is called a wholesome man. And may You grant that we find
love, favour, kindness and mercy in Your eyes and in the eyes of all who behold us; and that my
words in Your service be heard just as You granted Yoseph, Your righteous one – at the time that

6. Shabbos 10b.
7. The “dipping” of the karpas is also symbolic of the brothers dipping Yoseph’s coat into the blood. According
to The Mordechai (Mordecai ben Hillel HaCohen, Germany, 13th Century) on Pesachim 114a karpas was dipped
into vinegar or wine. Given both are red this could be symbolic of the blood in which the brothers dipped
Yoseph’s coat to make it appear he was killed. The Rambam in Hilchos Chometz U’Matzah 8:2 codifies that karpas
is to be dipped in charoses which contained red wine and presumably also symbolic to the blood as well. In
our times, the more prevalent custom is to dip karpas in salt water symbolizing Bnei Yisrael’s tears from the
excruciating pain and suffering.

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 Pesah

his father garbed him in a fine woolen tunic – that he find favour, kindness and mercy in Your
eyes and in the eyes of all who beheld him…8
Many ask what we are meant to accomplish by mentioning this event given the tragedy of
the Yoseph story. Why invoke the memory of the brother’s jealousy that caused tremen-
dous pain and suffering to Yaakov and Yoseph and ultimately led to many years of Jewish
suffering and torturous servitude in Egypt? Why should we mention our own failure at a
time when we are asking G-d to mercifully provide for our wellbeing?
Perhaps this episode is meant to talk directly to us and offer some sense of meaning to
both one’s personal life and to our Jewish national experience in general.
For reasons beyond our ability to comprehend, life in this world was not designed to
be easy and straightforward. Life is often filled with obstacles and challenges that bring
sadness, pain and suffering. Imbedded within this prayer asking G-d for lives filled with
blessing and salvation, we do so with the understanding that we may not receive what we
ask for, or not necessarily at the precise time we expect it. G-d often operates mysteriously
and in ways that are hidden from our human comprehension. Perhaps the Yoseph story
is invoked in this prayer after Birkas Kohanim in order for us to set realistic expectations
and avoid disappointment in life by reminding ourselves that G-d has His master plan for
individuals and for the nation. While we are not privy to His plan, we must believe all is
ultimately for the good even if we cannot see the larger picture in the moment.
We see this clearly from the Yoseph story. The k’sones passim and Yoseph represented the
beginning of many troubles leading to tremendous pain and suffering. However, it played
out in real time exactly the way it needed to according to G-d’s plan. As the Yoseph story was
taking place with all its subplots, twists and turns, the redemption story was also unfolding
at the same time. We are told G-d ultimately redeemed His people from Egypt ahead of the
schedule he foretold to Avraham Avinu but only after He intensified the suffering.
After arriving on the scene to lobby Pharaoh on behalf of the Jewish people, Moshe Rabeinu
questions G-d on the purpose of his involvement after seeing the servitude not improving
but actually deteriorating. While G-d reduced the original Egyptian Exile timeline from 400
to 210 years,9 He was able to be true to His original word by spreading the same misery and
suffering over a shorter period. For unknown reasons, the remaining painful experiences
had to play themselves out, albeit over a shortened timeline in order for G-d to bring our
redemption to fruition.

The Egyptian and Final Redemption

We are told that the current exile and the coming final redemption are direct parallels
to the Egyptian exile and subsequent redemption more than three millennia ago.10 Many

8. ArtScroll Siddur translation.

9. Rashi to Shemos 12:40.
10. We know the final redemption will mimic the Egyptian redemption from G-d’s response to the prophet Michah:
“As in the days when you left Egypt I will show it wonders” (Michah 7:15).

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 Hakhmei Lev

view this linkage to be apparent and relevant in recent history when in the 19th century our
people began a formal return to Eretz Yisrael for the first time in almost 2,000 years. The
time leading up to the establishment of Medinat Yisrael in 1948 was one filled with much
pain and suffering that continues until today. Perhaps all the pain and suffering endured
in the current exile is also a hidden requirement for us to reach the End of Days and the
coming of Mashiach. For reasons unbeknownst to us, every pogrom, gas chamber, death
march and terrorist act against Jews was precisely what G-d ordained in order for our final
redemption to play itself out. While excruciatingly painful and for reasons we cannot begin
to comprehend, this seems to be mimicking the Yoseph story and is ultimately part of G-d’s
master plan to bring us closer to the time and place our nation longs for.

Yoseph’s Exceptional Character

Given this notion of the Egyptian exile and redemption being a prototype for our current
exile and coming Redemption, perhaps there is an additional lesson to extract from the
Yoseph story to help us expedite the Final Redemption.
Upon the death of Yaakov Avinu, the brothers become fearful that Yoseph would take
revenge on them after holding back all this time only out of respect for their father. The
brothers fabricate a story that Yaakov made a request on his deathbed to instruct Yoseph
to forgive the brothers and not take revenge after his death.
On this fictitious instruction, the Torah tells us “Yoseph wept when they spoke to him”11
and proceeds to reassure the brothers they are forgiven. What was Yoseph feeling at that
moment, an expression of relief upon finally reconciling with his brothers? I would like to
suggest that his tears were something different.
Firstly, it must be recognized that the brothers never actually apologized to Yoseph in
any direct or usual fashion for their hateful actions. The only expression of regret was after
Yoseph recognizes them, accuses them of being spies and requests they bring their younger
brother to prove their story is true. It is at that time that the Torah tells us the brothers
talked amongst themselves, not knowing Yoseph’s true identity and that he understood their
language. They said: “we are indeed being punished on account of our brother because we
looked on at his heartfelt anguish as he pleaded with us, yet we did not listen; that is why
this distress has come upon us.”12 Even this statement itself does not contain the declaration
“we were wrong and should not have done it.” Rather, it was self-centered and an expression
of a possible reason why they were suffering at this moment. Not only did they fabricate the
instruction from Yaakov, but according to Rashi they sent this message to Yoseph through
an emissary, not dealing with their misdeeds in an upfront and direct fashion.13
I would like to suggest that Yoseph’s cry is one of extreme sadness, frustration and even
anger over the complete inability of his brothers to directly express remorse and apologize.

11. Bereishis 50:17.

12. Ibid. 42:21.
13. See Rashi to Bereishis 50:16.

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 Pesah

Furthermore, Yoseph must have realized that this instruction from his father was fictitious
since he had spent much time with Yaakov in those final days and this instruction was
never mentioned to him directly.
However, let us now consider Yoseph’s reaction to the brothers’ continued stubbornness,
their inability to apologize properly and apparent egotistical conduct. Yoseph clearly would
have been justified to lash out at them in rebuke but, surprisingly, he does not. He could
have said “why have you not apologized properly all this time, why do you continue to
fabricate lies over this painful episode, why do you still not trust me after all I have said and
done for you?” Rather, Yoseph courageously took the moral high-road which required very
strong personal character14 to achieve a final reconciliation of this tense episode. Instead of
escalating matters further at this late stage in their lives, consider what Yoseph tells them.
Yoseph immediately says clearly and categorically “Do not fear” and repeats it a second
time later in his response.15 This alone could be deemed sufficient to move forward. However,
recognizing that his brothers might still be filled with feelings of disbelief, Yoseph provides
proof that his forgiveness is genuine and not merely words. Apart from saying “do not
fear” twice, he tells them “Although you intended me harm, G-d intended your misdeeds
for good in order to save our entire family from famine!”16 Not only does Yoseph hold back
from using justifiable words of rebuke, he goes above and beyond by helping the brothers
help themselves, giving them the rationale to believe him. Not only does Yoseph tell them
to no longer be fearful, he shares with them how he justifies the forgiveness in his own
mind and should therefore be believed.
Yoseph proceeds to take this even one more step further to assure them this state of
forgiveness is not temporary but will apply to future generations. He says “So now, fear not –
I will sustain you and your children.”17 As if to say, this sentiment will never change and
my forgiveness is everlasting. Ironically, Yoseph spends more time and energy forgiving the
brothers than the brothers spend apologizing. Thereafter, we are told, “thus he comforted
them and spoke to their heart” and in turn finally buries their animosity forever. So at a
time when Yoseph would have been justified to express very different feelings, he, instead,
consciously takes a different path to unilaterally diffuse tension and create everlasting
unity between himself and his siblings.
Incidentally, we are immediately offered a description of Yoseph’s final days – a very rare
description that is not found when talking about the great ones we learn about in Bereishis.
We are told Yoseph saw grandchildren and great-grandchildren were “raised on Yoseph’s
knee.”18 We are not told the same about the brothers. This concluding statement contains

14. The Talmud (Rosh Hashanah 17a) refers conceptually to this conduct as one who is “ma’avir ul midosov” literally
translated as “one who leaves his measures” – meaning one who purposely does not respond to his attacker in
a way justified and deserved. As Rashi describes it, “he tolerantly drops the entire matter and goes on his way.”
15. Bereishis 50:19–20.
16. Ibid 50:20.
17. Ibid 50:21.
18. Ibid 50:23.

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 Hakhmei Lev

imagery of Yoseph’s inner peace, tranquility and a nuchus ruach as he lives out his final years.
This teaches us that taking his type of interpersonal approach not only diffuses tension but
provides us with an inner happiness. Perhaps due to his tremendous strength of character,
Yoseph goes down in history as “Yoseph Ha’tzadik” – a title not bestowed upon anyone else.
By example, Yoseph displays what is required of us in this world namely to tap deep inner
strength and be in constant pursuit to improve one’s individual G-d-given characteristics.

Conclusion
So perhaps through karpas, its linkage to the k’sones passim and to Yoseph’s exceptional
character, this is precisely what we use to set the framework for the story of redemption
we tell over on Seder night.
In addition, we must be reminded that due to baseless hatred amongst our people, G-d
allowed the second Bais Hamikdash to be destroyed. It should therefore be obvious that in
order to arrive at our ultimate Redemption, we must strive to correct this negative char-
acteristic on both a personal and a national level. The concluding confrontation between
Yoseph and his brothers highlight an attribute of Yoseph that should be most inspiring to
us in our times. The Torah is not merely a storybook and we must learn from the great
characters we read about in Scripture to internalize and integrate their traits and life
experience within our own lives. This idea is described eloquently by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks:
“the Torah portrays the patriarchs and matriarchs in all their human complexity so that
we can identify with them and take strength from their stories rather than seeing them
as impossibly remote from all we know and are.”19
There is hardly a better way to remove baseless hatred than to aspire to be like Yoseph
and strive towards programming ourselves to ignore differences and aspire to tolerance.
This must be achieved even when perhaps we feel justified to act otherwise. If we are to be
worthy of Moshiach’s coming, we must strive to mimic Yoseph’s exceptional character in
an effort to rid ourselves of hatred towards our fellow Jew.
By allowing karpas to trigger the Yoseph story, may we benefit from a deeper understand-
ing of our current exile and what action is required to bring the redemption closer. May we
enjoy a meaningful Pesach Seder and merit the final redemption.

19. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Genesis: The Book of Beginnings (Jerusalem: Maggid Books, 2009), 229–233.

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 Pesah

What’s With the Wise Son Saying “You”?

An Analysis and Historical Background
rabbi martin j. berman

After the “Four Questions” the most well-known part of the Passover Haggadah is the
account of the “Four Sons.” I want to examine this passage that we recite at our Seder tables.
The wicked son, what does he say? “What does this service mean to you (‫ לכם‬lakhem)?”
(Ex. 12:24) By the words “to you” he implies that this service is only for you – not for him.
By excluding himself from the community, he denies G-d. So, blunt his teeth: “This is done
on account of what Hashem did for me when I came out of Egypt” (Ex. 13:8). ‘For me, not
for him”; had he been there, he would not have been redeemed.
These words of the wicked son in the Haggadah are well known. Now without question
the Passover seder is one of the most widespread Jewish home observances whether it is a
traditional seder or merely a family gathering. It is the shared experience around the dinner
table that sets it apart from other gatherings provides its defining place in Jewish life. A
family comes together to celebrate and to share. That is why the wicked son is so harshly
reproached “By excluding himself from the community, he denies G-d.” It’s your story, your
ritual, your remembrance. I have nothing to do with it. All because of one Hebrew word
lakhem – to you!
But wait a minute. Doesn’t the wise son say you – “has commanded you (‫ אתכם‬etkhem)?”
Just picture the interchange around the Seder table. Esau says to his father Isaac: That’s
not fair! I get in trouble for saying you but when Jacob says the same thing he doesn’t get
sent to his room!”
Alright, what gives? What was the author of this passage thinking when he wrote this?
The answer, I believe, is that he didn’t write you. No, he wrote us! That is why I believe it
is so important to understand how this passage got to our Haggadahs that we have today.
So, let’s review the Four Sons.

MARTIN J. BERMAN was born in Jacksonville, Florida and has served as the Rabbi of synagogues in the US and
Canada. He has also served as an Adjunct Associate Professor, Department of Religion, University of Texas in El
Paso and as an instructor in Talmud and Jewish Law at the Rocky Mountain Hebrew Academy, Denver, Colorado.
He is married to Marylin Berman and is the proud Abba of three children and Sabba to nine grandchildren.

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 Hakhmei Lev

The Text of the Four Sons

A wise son, what does he say? “What is the meaning of the testimonies, statutes, and laws which
Hashem our G-d has commanded you (‫ אתכם‬etkhem)?” (Dt. 6:20) Explain to him the laws of the
Pesach: that “no dessert may be eaten after the Passover sacrifice.”
The wicked son, what does he say? “What does this service mean to you (‫ לכם‬lakhem)?” (Ex.
12:24) By the words “to you” he implies that this service is only for you – not for him. By excluding
himself from the community, he denies G-d. So, blunt his teeth: “This is done on account of what
the Hashem did for me when I came out of Egypt”(Ex. 13:8). For me, not for him; had he been
there, he would not have been redeemed.
The simple son asks: “What is this all about?” Tell him, “With a strong hand Hashem brought us
out of Egypt from the house of slavery”(Ex. 13:14).
As for the son who is unable to ask a question, you must open up the subject to him, as it is written:
“You shall tell your son on that day: This is on account of what Hashem did for me when I came
out of Egypt” (Ex. 13:8).1

Let’s make clear, the author of this passage emphasizes that the wicked child by using
the pronoun to you (‫ לכם‬lakhem), he has excluded himself from the seder. He doesn’t care
about it personally; he has no interest in the meaning of the Passover seder and so he is
due a severe rebuke.
Yet, the rebuke seems somewhat problematic because the wise child also says you (‫אתכם‬
etkhem)” which has the same basic meaning, not us but you. This issue did not escape the
notice of the myriad of commentaries on the Haggadah. Menahem Kasher in his magnificent
“Haggadah Sheleimah”2 surveys a number of approaches.
1. Some seize upon the words “Hashem our G-d” which shows he is not excluding himself.
2. Others suggest that he was born after the Exodus and so he is addressing those who went
through that experience – I wasn’t there so please explain this to me.
3. Another approach is that ‫ אתכם‬etkhem can also mean ‫ עמכם‬imkhem – with you so that he
joins in with the mitzvah.
4. The passage in the Torah is written without vowels and the Hebrew ‫ אתכם‬etkhem could
be read as ‫ אותיכם‬otekhem – “What means otekhem? Me and you” (Sotah 34a).
Other answers suggest that the details of the wise son’s questions distinguish him from
the Rasha. Yet others suggest that the Wise son in the Torah is truly asking a question:
ki yishalkha – when he asks you; while the Wicked son is not really asking a question but
making a statement: ki yomru– when he says.
I find all these answers as wanting. They don’t truly explain the fact that the questions
of both the wise son and the wicked son employ the pronoun “you” – etkhem – lakhem. If we

1. Haggadah Shel Pesach.

2. Pages 16–17.

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 Pesah

delve into the history of the passage, I believe we can see that there is a straightforward
answer – an overzealous correction! When we look at the sources for what we have in the
Haggadah today we can see what happened and gain a better insight to the process of how
the Haggadah came to be and the overzealous correction.

Sources of the Four Sons

The Torah
This story is built upon four passages in the Torah: Exodus 12:24–28; Exodus, 13:6–8, Exodus
13:11–15 and Deuteronomy 6:20–25. Let’s line up the Torah passages with the four sons.

DEUTERONOMY 6:20–25 HAGGADAH

When, in time to come, your children ask A wise son, what does he say? “What is the
you, “What mean the decrees, laws, and meaning of the testimonies, statutes, and
rules that Hashem our G-d has enjoined laws which Hashem our G-d has com-
upon you?” you shall say to your children, manded you ( ‫ אתכם‬etkhem)?” (Dt. 6:20)
“We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt and Explain to him the laws of the Pesach: that
the Hashem freed us from Egypt with a “no dessert may be eaten after the Passover
mighty hand. Hashem wrought before our sacrifice.”
eyes marvelous and destructive signs and
portents in Egypt, against Pharaoh and all
his household; and us He freed from there,
that He might take us and give us the land
that He had promised on oath to our fathers.
Then Hashem commanded us to observe
all these laws, to revere Hashem our G-d,
for our lasting good and for our survival, as
is now the case. It will be therefore to our
merit before Hashem our G-d to observe
faithfully this whole Instruction, as He has
commanded us.””

EXODUS 12:24–28

“You shall observe this as an institution for all The wicked son, what does he say? “What
time, for you and for your descendants. And does this service mean to you (‫ לכם‬lakhem)?”
when you enter the land that the Hashem (Ex. 12:24) By the words “to you” he implies
will give you, as He promised, you shall that this service is only for you – not for him.
observe this rite. And when your children By excluding himself from the community,
say to you, ‘What do you mean by this rite?’ he denies G-d. So, blunt his teeth: “This is
You shall say, ‘It is the Passover sacrifice to done on account of what the Hashem did for
Hashem, because He passed over the hous- me when I came out of Egypt.”(Ex. 13:8) For
es of the Israelites in Egypt when He smote me, not for him; had he been there, he would
the Egyptians but saved our houses.’” not have been redeemed.

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EXODUS 13:11 – 15

“And when Hashem has brought you into the The simple son asks: “What is this all about?”
land of the Canaanites, as He swore to you Tell him, “With a strong hand Hashem
and to your fathers, and has given it to you, brought us out of Egypt from the house of
you shall set apart for the Hashem every slavery.”(Ex. 13:14)
first issue of the womb: every male firstling
that your cattle drop shall be the Hashem’s.
But every firstling ass you shall redeem with
a sheep; if you do not redeem it, you must
break its neck. And you must redeem every
first-born male among your children. And
when, in time to come, your son asks you,
saying, ‘What does this mean?’ you shall
say to him, ‘It was with a mighty hand that
Hashem brought us out from Egypt, the
house of bondage. When Pharaoh stubborn-
ly refused to let us go, Hashem slew every
first-born in the land of Egypt, the first-born
of both man and beast. Therefore, I sacrifice
to Hashem every first male issue of the
womb but redeem every first-born among
my sons.

EXODUS 13:6–8

“Seven days you shall eat unleavened bread, As for the son who is unable to ask a ques-
and on the seventh day there shall be a tion, you must open up the subject to him,
festival of Hashem. Throughout the seven as it is written: “You shall tell your son on
days unleavened bread shall be eaten; no that day: This is on account of what Hashem
leavened bread shall be found with you, and did for me when I came out of Egypt.” (Ex.
no leaven shall be found in all your territory. 13:8)
And you shall explain to your son on that day,
‘It is because of what Hashem did for me
when I went free from Egypt.’

There are a number of anomalies. The wise son’s question is from Deuteronomy 6:20 and
the answer is not a biblical passage at all. The wicked son’s question is from Exodus 12:26
but the answer is from Exodus 13:8. The simple son’s question and answer are found in
Exodus 13:14 – but while it too refers to the exodus the major point is not about the Pass-
over ritual but the redemption of the firstborn animals and firstborn sons. Finally, as to
the unasked question of the one who doesn’t ask any questions, you are instructed to tell
him the information found in Exodus 13:8 which is the same answer given to the wicked
son only without the editorial addition – “For me, not for him; had he been there, he would
not have been redeemed.”

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 Pesah

Clearly the author of the Four Sons in the Haggadah did not feel bound to follow the
wording found in the Torah. He mixes and matches to create contrasts between the various
participants at the seder table.

Rabbinic Sources
The Haggadah is not the only source for this passage. It appears in the Mekhilta of Rabbi
Yishmael and in the Talmud Yerushalmi.
In the Mekhilta3 we find that the Wise son’s question is almost identical to the Haggadah
“A wise son, what does he say? “What is the meaning of the testimonies, statutes, and laws
which Hashem our G-d has commanded you (‫ אתכם‬etkhem)?” but instead of etkhem you –
we find us (‫ אותנו‬otanu). The remainder of the passage has no significant differences from
our Haggadah.
Now in the Talmud Yerushalmi (Pesachim 10:4) there are a number of textual differences.
First, the Yerushalmi cites Rabbi Hiya as the author of the passage. Each of the four sons
is referred to in their questions as ben – ben Hakham, ben Rasha, ben Tipaish (not Tam
‫ – טם‬simple but ‫ – טיפש‬foolish) and ben sheino yodei-ah lishol.
The wise son also uses “commanded us – otanu” in his question. The response to his
question is “It was with a mighty hand that Hashem brought us out from Egypt, the house
of bondage” (Ex. 12:27). which is the answer found in the Torah to the question of Exodus
12:26 which is the source of the ben Rasha, the wicked son’s question.
The wicked son’s question is expanded “What does this service mean to you” – all this
bothersome ritual that you burden us with each and every year? “Had that man been in
Egypt he would never have been worthy of redemption.”4
The Tipaish’s (not ben Tipaish) question is identical to that in the Haggadah, but the
answer is significantly different. You too (af atah) teach him the laws of the Passover “we
do not add after the Pesah offering “afikoman.”5 That one who was in this havurah, group
for the sacrifice, should enter into another group.

3. ‫מכילתא דרבי ישמעאל בא – מסכתא דפסחא פרשה י״ח‬

4. The expression that man oto ha’ish according to some is sometimes used as a euphemism for Jesus. A subject
for another day.
5. This is clearly the Yerushalmi’s understanding of the expression ‫אין מפטירין אחר הפסח אפיקומן‬.

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TALMUD YERUSHALMI (VILNA)

STANDARD HAGGADAH
TRACTATE PESACHIM CHAPTER 10

The Torah speaks of four sons; a wise one, a Rabbi Hiyya taught: The Torah taught in re-
wicked one, a simple one, and who is not gard to four sons – the wise son, the wicked
able to ask a question. son, the foolish son, the son who knows not
how to ask.

A wise son, what does he say? “What is the A wise son, what does he say? “What is the
meaning of the testimonies, statutes, and meaning of the testimonies, statutes, and
laws which Hashem our G-d has com- laws which Hashem our G-d has com-
manded you (‫ אתכם‬etkhem)?” (Dt. 6:20) manded us?” Tell him, “With a strong hand
Explain to him the laws of the Pesach: that the Lord brought us out of Egypt from the
“no dessert may be eaten after the Passover house of slavery.”
sacrifice.”

The wicked son, what does he say? “What A wicked son, what does he say? “What
does this service mean to you (‫ לכם‬lakhem)?” does this service mean to you?” What is this
(Ex. 12:24). By the words “to you” he implies bother for us every year? Since he excludes
that this service is only for you – not for him. himself from the general you too say to him:
By excluding himself from the community, “It is for this that the Lord did for me” for me
he denies G-d. So, blunt his teeth: “This is he did it for that man He did not do it. If that
done on account of what the Hashem did for man were in Egypt he would never have
me when I came out of Egypt”(Ex. 13:8). For been worthy of being redeemed from there.
me, not for him; had he been there, he would
not have been redeemed.

The simple son asks: “What is this all about?” What does a fool say? What is this? You
Tell him, “With a strong hand Hashem teach him the laws of the Pesach. That one
brought us out of Egypt from the house of does not add after the Pesah afikoman, i.e.
slavery”(Ex. 13:14). that one should not leave this group and
join another group.

As for the son who is unable to ask a question, A son who does not know to ask you must
you must open up the subject to him, as it is open up the subject to him. Rabbi Yose said
written: “You shall tell your son on that day: the Mishna said this: If the son does not
This is on account of what Hashem did for me have knowledge the father teaches him.
when I came out of Egypt” (Ex. 13:8).

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 Pesah

It’s Not New Information

These discrepancies were long noted. Rabbi Moshe ben R. Avraham Matt (b. Poland 1551),
a student of the Maharshal wrote: “It is written in a number of books: which Hashem our
G-d has commanded us.” It is an error for the language of Scripture is which Hashem our G-d
commanded you.”6
We see from his remarks that there were Haggadot in his day that followed the wording
of the Mekhilta and the Yerushalmi, but he asserts these Haggadot were misprints. He does
not allude to the variants in the early sources and assumes that the quote of the passage
Torah is an error.
R. Nahum Ash (1858–1936) wrote a commentary on Maimonides’ Mishne Torah. He cites the
Rambam’s version of the Haggadah which has the text “Which Hashem our G-d has commanded
us.” At first glance his words are problematic because in scripture Deuteronomy 6:20 it is
written “you.” But our master’s words derive from the Yerushalmi Pesahim (10:4) and the
Mekhilta at the end of Parashat Bo where the text is like the words of our master.”7
There are two significant points here. The first is that, at least some versions of Rambam’s
Haggadah, used the word “us” in the wise son’s question. Even more significant, after
finding a source for this variant text, Rambam is not bothered by the fact that it does not
match the Torah.
When we look at the evidence it seems to me that the original version has the wise son
using the word “us.” That sets up the clear contrast with the wicked son without resorting to
explanations that ignore the obvious thrust of criticism of the wicked son – “for you and not
for him.” At some point the difference between the texts in the Haggadah using “us” in the
wise son’s question raised questions since the text in the Torah is “you.” Simple response –
assume that the version found in the Haggadah was a misquote, and therefore, simply fix
the quoted “us” by substituting “you” and the problem is solved. There is no discrepancy
between the wording of the question in the Torah and the wording found in the Haggadah.

What to Do?
Most contemporary Haggadot take no notice of this change in the language of the Wise Son’s
question. Other than ignoring this I have seen several ways of dealing with it. The Haggadah
published by Ktav Publishing, which was widely used by Hebrew schools in the U.S., did
not change the Hebrew text but translated the Wise Son’s question using “us.” There is no
mention of this discrepancy. To my surprise I found the same phenomenon in a Haggadah
with Rabbi Shlomo Riskin’s commentary. In recent additions of Haggadot published by the
Conservative Movement the Hebrew text for the question of the wise son was that used by
the Mekhilta and the Yerushalmi: “What is the meaning of the testimonies, statutes, and
laws which Hashem our G-d has commanded us?” The distinction between the question of

6. ‫מטה משה עמוד העבודה ליל הסדר סימן תרל״ז‬

7. ‫ציוני מהר״נ הלכות חמץ ומצה פרק ו׳ הלכה י״ב‬

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the wise son, who says “us” and the wicked son who says “you,” but it no longer matches
the Torah’s wording nor most Haggadot.
I believe that the ideal way to treat this would be to use the language of the traditional
Haggadot but note the original text.
As we see the author of the passage did not feel bound by the wording of the Torah in
constructing his description of approaches to the Seder night. He mixes and matches verses,
rearranging the questions and answers and even supplies his own wording. Later genera-
tions saw this text and assumed an error had crept in because that is not what the Torah
says. So, the passage of the Four Sons was corrected. However, that correction weakened the
author’s clear statement. It opened the door for creative interpretive acrobatics but misses
the author’s simple proposition – the wise Jew joins with the community. His questions
are meant not to challenge but to better understand the seder ritual and what it means to
be part of the Jewish People.
What we see here in the history of an important passage in the Haggadah should be a
lesson for us. Be careful when correcting the words of others. What you see as an error,
may indeed be correct.

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 Pesah

Egypt Demystified
archie crandell

Introduction
Every Passover we recount the Exodus from Egypt during our Passover Seder. We eat
matzot, bitter herbs and charoset to remind us of our ancestors’ bitter servitude in Egypt
and the fact that G-d brought us out of Egypt during the Exodus to become a free nation. But
what do we really know about Egypt beyond the slavery that B’nai Yisrael suffered and the
plagues that affected the Egyptians? This paper presents the archaeological, cultural and
historical context behind events in the Torah so that we can better understand Egypt and
how Egyptian culture influenced the patriarchs’ interaction with the ancient Egyptians.

Why Were Both Jacob and Joseph Mummified?

The ancient Egyptians were obsessed with the afterlife. 1 They did everything in their power
during their mortal lifetime to ensure a smooth transition to the eternal afterlife. They were
especially motivated by the fact that their average lifespan was only 30 to 45 years.2 The
pharaohs built great pyramids and tombs to house their mummified bodies along with their
possessions as well as food for their use in the afterlife. They covered the inside surfaces of
their tombs with religious spells written in hieroglyphs and artwork showing their worthy
deeds so that they would be judged favourably by their gods and would be granted passage
to the afterlife. They also erected obelisks and large mortuary temples near their tombs for
the priests to enact rituals for them and help them transition to the afterlife. They even
built sphinxes to guard the pyramids so that nothing would interfere with their afterlife.3
Most of the archaeological finds we have today are as a result of these endeavours.

1. Egyptian Afterlife: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ancient_Egyptian_afterlife_beliefs.

2. Average Lifespan in Egypt: www.newcrosshealthcare.com/insights/health-news/healthcare-through-
time-part-1-ancient-egypt.
3. Egyptian Funerary: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ancient_Egyptian_funerary_practices.

ARCHIE CRANDELL worked as a Professional Engineer in the Nuclear Industry for over 33 years designing
and supervising CANDU reactor design. Since 2006 Archie has been teaching his chavrusa through Partners
in Torah. He is now retired and spends his time studying Tanach.

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 Hakhmei Lev

The wealthy had an advantage over the poor in that they had the resources to build, to
varying degrees, elaborate burial sites and engage in these rituals. Most ordinary ancient
Egyptians could not afford to be so ‘mahmir.’ The relatives of the poor wrapped the deceased’s
body in a simple cloth and buried it in the desert with some everyday objects and food.
Genesis 50:2 and 50:26 tell us that both Jacob and Joseph were mummified in Egypt.
Why were they not buried like ordinary Egyptians without intervention and their bones
later exhumed for transport during the Exodus? At that time, it was a great honour to be
mummified, but mummification came at great cost, and so, only the pharaohs and the
wealthy could afford to be mummified. It may be that the Torah tells us of the mummifica-
tion of Jacob and Joseph to show us the honour accorded to them by the Egyptian pharaoh,
a status only reserved for the highest of Egyptian society.

How Were Egyptians and Foreigners Treated in Egypt?

The social norms in ancient Egypt were very different than those we are accustomed to
today and this should reflect our understanding of how the patriarchs interacted with the
Egyptians.
The population of ancient Egypt was divided into social classes. There were about seven
classes which can be listed in decreasing social status: pharaoh, government officials and
priests, soldiers, scribes, merchants, craftsmen, peasants and slaves at the bottom. 4 Ancient
Egypt’s class system was mostly rigid in that different classes would not socialize or eat
together, however, people in the lower or middle classes could sometimes improve their
status through marriage or success in their positions.5
According to the Egyptian worldview, Egypt was the centre of the world and stood for
order, whereas foreigners stood for chaos. Pharaoh’s job was to keep order in Egypt by
keeping Egyptian society in their classes and keeping their gods happy. Pharaoh was the
intermediary between the mortal world and the heavenly world. 6 When Pharoah had
his dream (Gen. 41:1), he felt that the gods were giving him a prophecy of how to run his
kingdom in the form of a dream. This may be why Pharaoh accepted and acted on Joseph’s
interpretation of his dream (Gen. 41:37) without any resistance.
In Egypt, crops were very predictable and there were hardly ever any famines, let alone
seven consecutive years of famine, since the Nile floods predictably each year irrigating
the farmland. Since Pharaoh felt his dream was a prophecy, he disregarded the natural
order of the Nile to follow the words of his gods. (See below for more details about the Nile.)
Anyone not Egyptian living in Egypt was regarded as a barbarian. Foreigners could be
physically manhandled and were not allowed to enter Egyptian temples. Foreign prisoners

4. Social classes: www.ancient-egypt-online.com/ancient-egypt-social-structure.html.

5. Egyptian Society: www.juntadeandalucia.es/averroes/centros-tic/41701109/ helvia/sitio/upload/II_EGYP-
TIAN_SOCIETY.pdf.
6. Sakkie Cornelius Scripatura, Ancient Egypt and the Other 104 (2020), 322–340.

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captured in wars became slaves. Sometimes foreigners could be accepted into Egyptian
society if they adopted Egyptian customs and married Egyptian women.
Knowing how the Egyptians treated foreigners and the class system, we have some
clarification about what happened between Joseph and Potiphar’s wife when she tried to
seduce him. In Genesis 39:7 Potiphar’s wife commanded him to “sleep with me.” This was
not a request. It is the master’s wife commanding a slave to do her bidding. Joseph was in
no position to refuse her ‘request.’ He did the only thing that he could do by saying “How
then can I do this great wickedness and sin against G-d?” (Gen. 39:9). What he was in effect
saying in the language of Egypt is ‘How will the Egyptian gods look upon us if we do this
sin and how will we be able to transition into the afterlife if we commit the sin of adultery
against your husband, my master?’ Committing adultery was a sin in Egypt as can be
confirmed by archaeological evidence.7
Of course, the rules that applied between Egyptians probably did not apply to slaves
or foreigners. When Potiphar’s wife recounted the story, she reminded her husband that
Joseph was a “Hebrew slave” (Gen. 39:17) or, in the language of Egypt, a foreign barbarian.
Potiphar could have executed Joseph for his crime, but instead he decided to hold onto his
investment in this slave, so he moved him from being a slave running his home (Gen. 39:6) to
a slave running the prison (Gen. 39:21) which Potiphar was in charge of. The verses mention
numerous times that Potiphar was Captain of the Guard and that Joseph was placed in the
prison belonging to the “house of the Captain of the Guard” (Gen. 40:3, 41:10). This prison
may have been a higher class prison since Pharaoh’s servants would also end up there so
that Joseph could interpret their dreams as part of G-d’s plan.
After Joseph was removed from prison (Gen. 41:14) and interpreted Pharaoh’s dream
successfully, Pharaoh took a number of steps to raise Joseph’s social level. (Gen. 41:40). He
gave him his signet ring, clothed him in fine linen garments, put a gold chain around his
neck, and gave him an Egyptian name. Joseph was made to ride in the second chariot after
Pharaoh and they called out before him “bow down.” Thus, he was placed over all the land
of Egypt. Pharaoh’s final step was to give Joseph an Egyptian wife, Asenath, the daughter
of Poti-Phera the priest of On (Gen. 41:42–45). Marrying the daughter of a priest raised his
social level to the highest possible level just below a pharaoh.
During Joseph’s lifetime B’nai Yisrael were relatively safe due to Joseph’s protection as
second to Pharaoh. But once he died (Gen. 50:26), that protection was gone and B’nai Yisrael
were just foreigners to be used as slaves. This is obvious when one looks at the proximity
of the verses. Joseph’s death was recorded in the last verse of Genesis and the declaration
that “a new king arose who did not know Joseph” (Ex. 1:8) occurred only eight verses later.
These eight intermediary verses list the generations that went down to Egypt and how
B’nai Yisrael multiplied but give no other information. So, in effect these verses can be
considered sequential.

7. Ethical Practices in Egypt: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maat.

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Another part of G-d’s plan was to raise Moses’ social level from a slave at birth, to some-
one who could easily access Pharaoh during the plagues. This was accomplished when
Pharaoh’s daughter found him in the Nile and raised him in the royal palace (Ex. 2:10). By
doing so, she conferred upon him a social level that permitted him to re-enter the palace
and approach Pharaoh as he did during the plagues. A slave could never have gotten past
the palace guards to see Pharaoh.

Why Were Shepherds an Abomination for the Egyptians?

It states in Genesis 46:34 that “we were permitted to dwell in the land of Goshen; for every
shepherd is an abomination unto the Egyptians.” Why were B’nai Yisrael an abomination
unto the Egyptians? The Egyptians were farmers, growing a vast acreage of wheat and
barley in the Nile Delta. In contrast, B’nai Yisrael were shepherds, with large flocks of sheep
and there is nothing that sheep like better for a meal than fresh young wheat.8 This is not
a happy prospect for a farmer who worked hard to grow his crop. Placing B’nai Yisrael in
Goshen solved this problem. Goshen, being on the east side of the Nile Delta,9 was most likely
separated from the Egyptian crops by irrigation canals on the Nile Delta. This separation
allowed crops and sheep to coexist peacefully.
This practical dislike for shepherds is also seen in Egypt’s religious beliefs since wool, a
product of sheep farming, was considered unclean and not permitted to touch the skin of an
Egyptian, and was not allowed in any of their temples.10 Shepherds like B’nai Yisrael would
have worn wool garments made from the wool of their sheep. Maybe this is why Joseph, at
the end of this encounter with his brothers, gave each of them a change of clothing (Gen.
45:22). He may have given them Egyptian-friendly linen garments to replace their wool
garments which were an abomination to the Egyptians. Wearing their new linen garments
would have made them more acceptable to the Egyptians.
Now we can also understand Genesis 43:32 why Joseph, his brothers and the Egyptians
all ate separately and the “Hebrews were an abomination to the Egyptians.” There are a
number of social norms coming into play here: Joseph, although a foreigner, was at the
highest social level being next to Pharaoh (Gen. 41:43). The Egyptians were at a lower social
level. The brothers, who were shepherds as well as foreigners and did not accept any Egyp-
tian customs, were below the lowest level. The only way to satisfy their class rules and their
dislike for foreigners and shepherds was to keep all these groups separate during the meal.

Why Did the Patriarchs Always End Up in Egypt During a Famine?

The climatic conditions required for agriculture are very different in Israel and Egypt. Israel
is very dependent on rain and because of this we say prayers for rain and dew on Sukkot

8. Farming: www.quora.com/Why-did-the-Egyptians-view-shepherds-as-detestable-and-why-did-they-refuse-
to-eat-with-the-Hebrews.
9. Goshen: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Land_of_Goshen.
10. Clothing: https://historylink101.com/n/egypt_1/a-clothing.htm.

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and Pesach and throughout the year. Most of the yearly rainfall in Israel falls in the winter;
summers are mostly rainless. In ancient times, absent irrigation, if there was not enough
rain there were no crops and the result was famine.11
In contrast to Israel, Egypt is a desert which relies on the world’s longest river, the Nile
River,12 and the world’s largest river delta, the Nile Delta,13 for its existence. Ancient Egyp-
tians prayed to the god of the Nile for the yearly flooding14 to provide Egypt with fertile silt
and water for irrigation of their crops along its length and on the Nile Delta. The flooding
of the Nile is the result of the yearly monsoons 6,650 km. away on the Ethiopian Highlands.
The Nile starts to rise in June, reaches its peak in October and falls again until the next
June. Near Cairo the Nile could typically rise 7.5 m.15 Because of the yearly flooding of the
Nile, the Nile Delta was able to grow lush crops on its 20,000 sq. km. of arable farmland.
As a result, Egypt usually had food when there may have been famine in the surround-
ing areas. This is why Avram and Sarai went down to Egypt (Gen. 12:10) and Jacob sent his
sons down to Egypt to find food during the famines (Gen. 42:1). There was always food in
Egypt because of the predictability of the Nile which was not dependent on local rainfall.

Did B’nai Yisrael Build the Pyramids?

Josephus in his book Antiquities of the Jews (Book II 9:1) states that B’nai Yisrael built the
pyramids. The pyramids that are most likely being referred to are the Great Pyramids in
Giza16 which are located about 5 km southwest of modern Cairo. The Torah, on the other
hand, does not talk about building pyramids but, clearly says in Exodus 1:11 that B’nai Yisrael
built the storage cities of Pithom and Ramesses. (See below for more details about these
cities.) Could B’nai Yisrael also have built the pyramids in addition to Pithom and Ramesses?
The Torah in Exodus 1:14 and Exodus 5:7 says that B’nai Yisrael made mortar and bricks
and that the Egyptian taskmaster would no longer provide the straw for making the bricks.
However, the Great Pyramids were made of quarried limestone covered in marble, 17 not
mud bricks made by B’nai Yisrael. Mud bricks were used for everyday construction, not for
pyramids, tombs and mortuary temples that were built to last an eternity.
Also, the Great Pyramids at Giza were built during the Old Kingdom about 2,700–2,200
BCE by peasants who were conscripted during the flooding of the Nile when they could not
farm while their land was flooded.18 The Exodus from Egypt occurred between 1446 and
1290 BCE19 during the new kingdom. This is over 1000 years after the Great Pyramids were

11. Climate Israel: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geography_of_Israel.

12. Nile: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nile.
13. Nile Delta: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nile_Delta.
14. Flooding of the Nile: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flooding_of_the_Nile.
15. Ibid.
16. Giza Pyramid Complex: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giza_pyramid_complex.
17. Ibid.
18. Slavery In Egypt: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slavery_in_ancient_Egypt.
19. Date of Exodus: https://biblemesh.com/blog/the-date-of-the-exodus.

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built. There were other smaller pyramids built after the Old Kingdom but the last one built
was still hundreds of years before B’nai Yisrael arrived in Egypt.20 B’nai Yisrael, therefore,
could not have built the pyramids. Additionally, in Genesis 12:10 we are told that Avram
and Sarai went down to Egypt because there was a famine in the land of Israel. The year of
their arrival would be about 2080 BCE which is about 400 years after the Great Pyramids
were built. (Avram was born about 2150 BCE21 and he was at least 75 years old (Gen. 12:4)
when he arrived in Egypt.) Thus, the pyramids at Giza were already built when Avram and
Sarai arrived in Egypt.

What Happened to Pithom and Ramesses?

From archaeological evidence and ancient documentation, the land of Goshen is located
on the eastern side of the Nile Delta.22 Both Pithom23 and Ramesses24 did exist in Goshen
since there are references in the Torah and ancient Greek and Roman literature.25 However,
the exact location of these large cities remains somewhat elusive. Evidence provided states
that Ramesses must have contained many temples, palaces, government offices and other
administrative buildings, as well as state granaries, storage buildings, markets, and squares
for troops to assemble.26 There is less information about Pithom but it was also a large city.
All these many structures were composed of an infinite number of mud bricks manufactured
by B’nai Yisrael in the slime pits of Egyptian slavery.
Where are these cities today? The mud bricks used in the construction of these cities were
repurposed by subsequent pharaohs when these cities fell out of use. 27 It is much easier
to repurpose materials than to manufacture them from scratch. Even today mud bricks
from archaeological sites are scavenged for their organic materials and then employed as
agricultural fertilizer.28 There were also stone obelisks and statues in Pithom and Ramesses
which had their city of origin engraved on them. They were also scavenged and dispersed
to other locations making it difficult to know their original location.
Although the cities of Pithom and Ramesses have not survived the millennia, knowing
that they were large cities, built from an infinite number of mud bricks manufactured by
our ancestors should help us to understand the hard labour that they endured in Egypt.

20. Egyptian Pyramids: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Egyptian_pyramids.

21. Birth of Abraham: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abraham.
22. Goshen: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Land_of_Goshen.
23. Pithom: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pithom.
24. Pi-Ramesses: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pi-Ramesses.
25. Pithom and Raamses: Their Location and Significance, E. P. Uphill, Journal of Near Eastern Studies, Volume 28,
April, 1969.
26. Ibid.
27. Ibid.
28. Fertilizer: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sebakh.

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 Pesah

Who Was the Pharaoh of The Exodus?

It is not possible to determine who the pharaoh of the Exodus actually was since the phar-
aoh’s personal name is not given in the Torah and there is no archaeological evidence of
who he was.29 Because of this lack of information, historians dispute the date of the Exodus
which occurred somewhere between 1446 and 1290 BCE.30
Wikipedia lists as many as twelve possible pharaohs.31 None of them can definitively
be proven to be the pharaoh of the Exodus. But the most widely accepted possibility is
Ramesses II (1279–1213 BC).32 He was one of the most long-standing rulers (66 years) at the
height of Egyptian power and the name Rameses is mentioned five times in the Torah (Gen.
47:11, Ex. 1:11 and 12:37, Nu. 33:3 and 33:5). As such, he is the leading contender for Pharaoh
of the Exodus.

Conclusions
Hopefully, you have enjoyed this little ‘sojourn’ into ancient Egyptian culture, history and
archaeology. I also hope that you gained a bit more insight into how ancient Egyptian soci-
ety functioned and how our patriarchs interacted with it as detailed in the Torah. I would
like to leave the reader with one question to think about. Now that we know, the Great
Pyramids at Giza, were built before Avram’s lifetime, is it possible the Patriarchs saw the
Great Pyramids when they went down to Egypt?

29. Exodus: https://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/daily/biblical-topics/exodus/exodus-fact-or-fiction/.

30. Date of Exodus: https://biblemesh.com/blog/the-date-of-the-exodus/.
31. Pharaohs in the Bible: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pharaohs_in_the_Bible.
32. Ramesses II: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ramesses_II.

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How Did the Sea Split?

The Two Stories of the Splitting of the Red Sea
Based on Rabbi Mordechai Breuer’s
Aspect Methodology

joey fox

Dealing with Contradictions

Every morning, in our daily prayers, we express that dealing with contradictions is
inherent to studying Torah: “two verses that contradict each other [remain in contra-
diction] until a third verse is used to and reconciles them.”1 This is known as the last of
the 13 midrashic principles of Rabbi Yishmael. In his 13th principle, R. Yishmael outlines a
midrashic method for resolving contradictions between two pesukim – a third pasuk is used
as a guide as to which pasuk should be interpreted literally and which should be interpreted
figuratively. This existence of this midrashic principle proves what is blatantly obvious –
that two contradictory verses cannot both be interpreted literally. When contradictions
arise, we are forced into a midrashic or figurative interpretation.2

1. Sifra, Breita Di-rabi Yishmael.

2. A few examples of contradictions: Man and woman created together (Bereshit 1:27) then separately (Ibid. 2:7,
22). Two of each animal were on the ark (Ibid. 6:19–20) and seven pairs of pure animals (Ibid. 7:1). Binyamin was
born in Canaan (Ibid. 35:18–19) and in Padan Aram (Ibid. 35:24–26). Yosef was sold to Potifar by the Medanim
(Ibid. 37:36) and the Yishmaelim (Ibid. 39:1).The plague of blood started when Moshe hit the river with his staff
(Shemot 7:17–18) and when Aaron raised his staff (Ibid. 7:19–20). The commandment of Shabbat begins with
Zachor (Shemot 20:8) and Shamor (Devarim 5:12). The korban Pesach eaten roasted (Shemot 12:9) and cooked
(Devarim 16:7). The Omer is counted for 7 weeks/49 days and 50 days (Vayikra 23:15–16). The spies were sent
by Hashem (Bamidbar 13:1–2) and the nation (Devarim 1:22).
This is a small sample and all these issues were dealt with by the mefarshim, but they had to resort to drash
and could not deal with them based on the pshat.

JOEY FOX’S parents and grandparents were founding members of the BAYT. He’s a TanenbaumCHAT gradu-
ate, has two degrees in engineering physics, is an IDF veteran and currently works as a mechanical engineer
for the Toronto District School Board. He recently moved back to Thornhill with his family and has spent years
translating the works of Rav Mordechai Breuer in his spare time.

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 Pesah

At the same time, Jewish tradition teaches that “Ein mikra yotzeh midey peshuto – the text
should be understood based on its plain meaning” (Shabbat 63a).3 However, when contra-
dictions arise, the plain meaning of the verse cannot be resolved without resorting to drash.
Is there any way that the text can be understood based on its plain meaning in these cases?
Throughout our history, there have been various interpretations offered that recognize
that the Torah is combining two separate contradictory accounts. The first example is the
concept that the two stories of creation are resulting from middat ha-din and middat ha-ra-
hamim – Hashem’s attribute of justice and attribute of mercy. Two separate middot (attributes)
of Hashem lead to two different accounts of creation, but nevertheless both find expression
in a single Torah. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik’s “The Lonely Man of Faith” is a discussion
of the theological implications of these two different accounts. 4 Another example is Hazal’s
statement of “Zakhor veshamor bedibur ehad,”5 which also references the fact that two contra-
dictory statements are found together in our Torah. The famous phrase from the Talmud:
“Elu ve’elu divrei Elokim hayyim” (Eruvin 13b, Gittin 6b) provides a theological framework
within which we can recognize that contradictions are inevitable when a single G-d inter-
acts with humanity in different ways. However, until Rabbi Mordechai Breuer developed
his shitat ha-behinot (aspect methodology) to analyze the Torah, contradictions were dealt
with by the mefarshim on a case-by-case basis using figurative interpretations. They were
never addressed through a consistent methodology, and were often not completely loyal
to the pshat.

An Introduction to Rabbi Mordechai Breuer and Shitat Ha-behinot

Rabbi Mordechai Breuer (1921–2007) was born in Germany and was the great-grandson of
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch. He made aliyah to Eretz Yisrael in 1934 and studied at Jeru-
salem’s Chorev School, Yeshivat Kol Torah and Yeshivat Chevron. He then spent his career
teaching at Yeshivat Hadarom, Michlalah Yerushalaim and Yeshivat Har Etzion.
R. Breuer has made three major contributions to the Torah world. His first major contribu-
tion was standardizing the text of the Tanakh. For this work, he won the Israel Prize in 1999.
His authoritative Tanakh is the one currently used by the Mossad Harav Kook Publishing
house. His next major contribution was definitively determining the system for the taamei
ha-mikra – biblical cantillation. Before his work, the general principles were known, but an
exact determination of the system by which they were implemented was fully established
by him in his book Taamei Ha-mikra.6

3. See for example Rashbam, Bereshit 37:1 s.v. Eleh Toldot Yaakov.
4. See Reuven Ziegler, Majesty and Humility: The Thought of Joseph B. Soloveitchik (Urim, 2012), 121–123.
5. Mekhilta, Masekhta Devachodesh Yitro, Chapter 7.
6. R. Mordechai Breuer, Taamei Ha-Mikra, (Chorev, 1990).

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His third major contribution was his development of shitat ha-behinot – aspect meth-
odology.7 While teaching at Yeshivat Hadarom, he began investigating the claims of Bible
critics whose analysis of the Torah is based on the documentary hypothesis. Although the
hypothesis has been modified over the years, the basic academic claim has remained – that
the Torah is comprised of separate documents compiled by a redactor. This hypothesis can
explain the duplications, contradictions and language changes throughout the Torah.8 It is
also used by the academic world to attribute authorship of the Torah to different groups
of people at different times with different political motivations. This directly goes against
our belief that the Torah is divine. R. Breuer’s insight was that secular Bible critics were
correctly identifying contradictions and inconsistent narratives, but these are not separate
documents compiled by a human. R. Breuer developed a systematic approach which explains
that these are actually representations of different ways Hashem manifests in this world.
Hashem was the author of these narratives and Hashem combined them into the Torah.
This method became known as shitat ha-behinot – aspect methodology.9

R. Breuer’s Works On Shitat Ha-Behinot

R. Breur laid out the application of his theories in two main books: Pirkei Moadot (1986) and
Pirkei Bereshit (1999). His articles about shitat ha-behinot including responsa and debate about
this method were collected and published in Shitat Ha-behinot Shel Harav Mordechai Breuer
(2005). Other articles he published using shitat ha-bechinot were collected and published
posthumously in Pirkei Mikraot (2009). All of his works are in Hebrew. Very little is access-
ible to the English-speaking world. I have personally endeavored to translate his works and
make them available.
As previously discussed, there is widespread acceptance that there are two separate
accounts of the creation of man, as R. Soloveitchik puts it – Adam I and Adam II. R. Breuer
argued that “cracking open this tiny window actually opens the floodgates to biblical
criticism of the entire Torah.”10 If we accept that Adam I was created with middat ha-din
(attribute of justice) and Adam II was created with middat ha-rahamim (attribute of mercy),

7. For a detailed introduction to the documentary hypothesis and shitat ha-behinot, see Rabbi Amnon Bazak, To
This Very Day. (Maggid, 2020), chapter 3. A free version can be found online here: https://etzion.org.il/en/series/
fundamental-issues-study-tanakh lessons 9-16.
8. Here are a few examples of alternating words: In the story of the banishment of Hagar in Bershit chapter 16,
she is referred to as a shifcha (maidservant). In the story of the banishment of Hagar and Yishmael in Bereshit
chapter 21, she is referred to as an amah (maidservant). When Moshe is told at the burning bush to throw down
his staff, it turns into a nachash (Shemot 7:9). When Aharon throws down the staff before Pharaoh, it turns
into a tanin (Ibid. 7:15). Throughout the stories of the flood and the splitting of the sea, dry land is referred to
as harava (Bereshit 7:22, Shemot 14:21) or yabasha (Bereshit 8:14, Shemot 14:22).
9. Despite the name of his theory, R. Breuer rarely uses the term behinot to describe the different aspects or mani-
festations of Hashem. For most of his analysis, he uses the word hanhagot which I translate as manifestations.
At the beginning of Pirkei Bereshit, R. Breuer uses the terminology from Hazal of middot to describe the different
narratives in Sefer Bereishit. I will use middot here to refer to the two different stories as it is a more familiar
concept to people who have not previously studied Rav Breuer’s work.
10. Shitat Ha-behinot Shel Harav Mordechai Breuer, 188–189.

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then ten generations later we should expect to find Noach I with middat ha-din and Noach
II with middat ha-rahamim, followed by Avraham I and Avraham II, Yitzchak I and Yitzchak
II and so on. This then continues throughout the entire Torah.11
Building on this approach, R. Breuer argues that many stories in the Torah are composite
stories – two intertwined stories resulting from the different middot of Hashem told as one
story.12 The differing details of these two stories lead to inconsistencies and contradictions
in the pshat. Therefore, to properly understand the larger narrative, first the individual
stories need to be separated out and understood individually. Only then can the two stories
be recombined and understood in that context.13 Some examples of these composite sections
are The Flood,14 The Tower of Bavel,15 Brit Bein Ha-betarim,16 The Sale of Yosef,17 The Plagues
of Blood, Frogs, Hail and Locusts,18 The Splitting of the Red Sea,19 and The Sin of the Spies.20
Below, I will use R. Breuer’s method to explain the three pesukim describing the sea splitting
and returning based on R. Breuer’s analysis in the 12th chapter of his work Pirkei Moadot.

Pre-existing Notions for How the Sea Split

The splitting of the sea is one of the most significant events in our people’s history, probably
second only to Maamad Har Sinai – the revelation at Sinai. Bnei Yisrael, the Jewish people,
a group of newly freed slaves, are trapped between the sea and the mighty Egyptian army.
Moshe extended his hand over the sea and it formed two walls of water. Bnei Yisrael went
into the sea and the Egyptians gave pursuit. Bnei Yisrael left the sea and the water crashed
down upon the Egyptians. This is the image depicted in the movies The Ten Commandments
(1956) and The Prince of Egypt (1998).
However, a different image occurs elsewhere. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks was fond of discussing
the natural means of how the sea split.21 He would often cite an academic study explaining

11. Ibid.
12. This is sometimes referred to as a diachronic reading of the text.
13. Many Orthodox Jews in the academic world still reject this analysis. See Joshua Berman’s Inconsistency in
the Torah (Oxford University Press, 2017) and his Ani Maamin (Maggid, 2020). See also Umberto Cassuto The
Documentary Hypothesis (Shalem Press, 2006). However, despite this rejection, both Berman and Cassuto offer
alternative original theories explaining how the Torah can be comprised of multiple sources. Their theories
are more limited in scope than shitat ha-behinot or the documentary hypothesis.
14. Pirkei Bereshit, Ch. 8. See also Yonatan Grossman, Creation: The Story of Beginnings (Maggid, 2019), 240–241. Gross-
man uses shitat ha-behinot to explain the difficulties with the flood narrative. Alternatively, Joshua Berman in
Ani Maamin, Ch. 5 and Inconsistency in the Torah, Ch. 13 provides many arguments against a diachronic reading
of the flood story.
15. Ibid. Ch. 9.
16. Ibid. Ch. 14.
17. Ibid. Ch. 35.
18. Pirkei Moadot, Ch. 11.
19. Ibid. Ch. 12.
20. Ibid. Ch. 19. If you are interested in translations of these chapters, please email me at joeyfox85@gmail.com.
21. For example see https://youtu.be/roFdPHdhgKQ?t=926.

68
 Hakhmei Lev

how sustained 100 km/h winds could cause a significant drop in water levels.22 An Israeli
hydrologist named Moshe Dayan (a different person than the former general and minister
of defence) published a study describing the extreme differences between high tide and low
tide found in the Red Sea and how this could cause the waters to recede.23 A similar effect
can be found today at the Bay of Fundy Hopewell Rocks in New Brunswick where it fills
and then drains of water between high tide and low tide. It is this image that is depicted in
the more modern movie Exodus: Gods and Kings (2014). Bnei Yisrael are trapped at the sea.
As the night passes, the sea drains and the seabed becomes exposed due to a combination
of wind, tides and currents. Bnei Yisrael cross into the sea and when the Egyptians pursue,
the sea in the form of a massive tidal wave comes crashing back upon them.
The image of a natural means by which the sea recedes and then returns is a very different
event than the sea splitting and forming into two walls of water. Which of these images
are substantiated by the text?

The Text of the Sea Splitting in the Torah

With a basic understanding of shitat ha-behinot and identification of different images for the
splitting of the sea, we can proceed to examine the text in the Torah. While a proper under-
standing of this story would require a study of the entire section beginning with Parshat
Beshalah until shirat hayam (the song at the sea), that is beyond the scope of the analysis here.24
We will just focus on the pasuk describing how the sea splits and the two pesukim describing
how it returns in Shemot Ch. 14. It begins with Hashem giving Moshe a command in pasuk 16:

ַ ‫…וּנְ ֵטה ֶאת־יָ ְד ָך ַע‬

…ּ‫ל־ה ָ ּים ו ְּב ָק ֵעהו‬
...Extend your hand upon the sea and split it...

Later, in pasuk 21, the Torah describes the sea splitting:

‫ת־ה ָ ּים ֶל ָח ָר ָבה‬

ַ ‫ׇל־ה ַ ּליְ ָלה וַ ָ ּי ֶשׂם ֶא‬ ַ ‫ל־ה ָ ּים וַ ּיוֹ ֶל ְך ה׳ ֶא‬
ַ ּ‫ת־ה ָ ּים ְ ּברו ַּח ָק ִדים ַע ָּזה כ‬ ַ ‫וַ ֵ ּיט מ ׁ ֶֹשה ֶאת־יָ דוֹ ַע‬
.‫וַ ִ ּי ָ ּב ְקע ּו ַה ָּמיִ ם‬
Moshe extended his hand upon the sea, and Hashem moved the sea with a powerful east wind
all night and made the sea dry land, and the waters split.

There are multiple difficulties with this pasuk. The first difficulty is that the description in
the Torah is different than what Hashem told Moshe. From what Hashem told Moshe, it
appears that once Moshe would stretch his hand over the waters, he would be splitting the

22. Carl Drews and Weiqing Han, “Dynamics of Wind Setdown at Suez and the Eastern Nile Delta,” PLOS ONE 5(8):
(2010), e12481. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0012481.
23. Moshe Dayan, “The Dividing of the Red Sea According to Natural Sciences,” [Hebrew] Beit Mikra 73 (1978), 162–176.
24. See Pirkei Moadot, “The Splitting of the Red Sea” [Hebrew] Chapter 12 for the full analysis. Email me at joey� -
fox85@gmail.com for my English translation of this chapter. For a briefer analysis in English of how this entire
section divides into two stories, see Rav Yehuda Rock’s analysis here: www.etzion.org.il/en/tanakh/torah/
sefer-shemot/parashat-beshalach/splitting-red-sea.

69
 Pesah

sea directly. Instead, between Moshe raising his hand and the sea splitting, Hashem brings
an eastern wind all night long and makes the sea a dry land.
This then creates a glaring contradiction which does not allow for this pasuk to be read
as describing a single account: the plain understanding of “moved the sea” and “made
the sea a dry land” is that the entire sea was moved, became dry land and the seabed was
exposed. It would be impossible for the waters to split since there was no remaining water
there.25 It would also be difficult to imagine how “moved the sea” and “made the sea a dry
land” could be referring to a tiny strip of dry land between two walls of water. It is also
difficult to understand how a wind blowing all night long would create the walls of water
to form slowly overnight.
All these difficulties are easily resolved if we assume that the Torah is not describing a
single splitting of the sea with logical inconsistencies and chronological difficulties, but
rather two separate ways in which the sea split. Therefore, we can use shitat ha-behinot to
describe the two methods of the water parting as described in this pasuk:

.‫ל־ה ָ ּים וַ ִ ּי ָ ּב ְקע ּו ַה ָּמיִ ם‬

ַ ‫וַ ֵ ּיט מ ׁ ֶֹשה ֶאת־יָ דוֹ ַע‬
Moshe extended his hand upon the sea and the waters split.

.‫ת־ה ָ ּים ֶל ָח ָר ָבה‬

ַ ‫ׇל־ה ַ ּליְ ָלה וַ ָ ּי ֶשׂם ֶא‬ ַ ‫וַ ּיוֹ ֶל ְך ה׳ ֶא‬
ַ ּ‫ת־ה ָ ּים ְ ּברו ַּח ָק ִדים ַע ָּזה כ‬
Hashem moved the sea with a powerful east wind all night and made the sea dry land.

By viewing this as two separate accounts we can now explain what happened. R. Breuer
argues that Moshe extending his hand upon the sea and it splitting occurs through middat
ha-din whereas Hashem bringing the eastern wind all night long occurs through middat
ha-rahamim. 26 With middat ha-din, Moshe’s actions and the result are directly related to
Hashem’s command and occur exactly as we would expect – an overt miracle occurs, the
sea splits into two and Bnei Yisrael go into the sea and “the water was a wall for them on
their right and on their left” (14:22). With middat ha-rahamim, a hidden miracle occurs,
seemingly by natural means and Hashem brings a wind all night long and pushes the water
aside making the sea a dry land.

The Text of the Sea Returning

If the Torah described how the sea parted in two ways, we can assume from the outset that
it would also describe the sea returning in two ways. Here is how the Torah describes the
returning of the sea (pesukim 27–28):

25. A typical example of how Rashi deals with these issues is found in this pasuk: “The waters split – All the wat-
ers in the world.” Mesiah Ilmim and Siftei Ha-hamim explain that Rashi sees the two phrases ‘made the sea
a dry land’ and ‘the waters split’ as a redundancy, so he believes ‘made the sea a dry land’ is referring to the
water of the sea splitting and reinterprets ‘the waters split’ as referring to other waters in the world. Because
of the difficulties in this pasuk, Rashi interprets both phrases figuratively and against their plain meaning.
26. Pirkei Moadot, 248.

70
 Hakhmei Lev

ָ ‫ל־ה ָ ּים וַ ָ ּי ׁשׇב ַה ָ ּים ִל ְפנוֹ ת בּ ֶֹקר ְל ֵא‬

‫יתנוֹ ו ִּמ ְצ ַריִ ם נָ ִסים ִל ְק ָראתוֹ וַ יְ נַ ֵער ה׳ ֶאת־‬ ַ ‫וַ ֵ ּיט מ ׁ ֶֹשה ֶאת־יָ דוֹ ַע‬
.‫ִמ ְצ ַריִ ם ְ ּבתוֹ ְך ַה ָ ּים‬
Moshe extended his hand upon the sea and the sea returned before morning to its original vigor
and Egypt fled towards it and Hashem shook up the Egyptians in the sea.

‫יהם ַ ּב ָ ּים ל ֹא־נִ ׁ ְש ַאר ָ ּב ֶהם‬

ֶ ‫ת־ה ּ ָפ ָר ׁ ִשים ְלכֹל ֵחיל ּ ַפ ְרעֹה ַה ָ ּב ִאים ַא ֲח ֵר‬ ָ ‫וַ ָ ּי ׁ ֻשב ּו ַה ַּמיִ ם וַ יְ ַכ ּס ּו ֶא‬
ַ ‫ת־ה ֶר ֶכב וְ ֶא‬
.‫ד־א ָחד‬ ֶ ‫ַע‬
The waters returned and covered the chariots and the horsemen and all of Pharaoh’s soldiers that
were coming after them in the sea. Not one of them remained.

Pesukim 27 and 28 seem to be copies of each other as they both describe the “sea” or the
“waters” returning and what happened to the Egyptians as a consequence. Upon closer
inspection, many difficulties arise which are similar to the difficulties found with the sea
splitting. If we initially assume that there is only one account described, the word “eitano”
is very difficult to understand. It is universally translated as returning to its previous
strength or vigor. This means that when the sea split, it was in a state of being weakened
and through the process of the sea returning, it is now no longer weakened. However, it
is difficult to imagine a stronger image of the sea than it splitting and forming two giant
walls of water ready to come crashing down on those who dare to enter. It seems it would
have been more appropriate for the Torah to describe the sea as returning to its previously
weakened state – vayashov hayam lechulsho.
Pasuk 27 also describes the sea as returning “before morning.” If the sea had returned as
a direct result of Moshe extending his hand, then the Torah would have stated that Moshe
extended his hand before morning and then the sea returned to its original vigor. By the
Torah attributing the timing of the return to the sea, it appears the sea returned at its natural
time and had nothing to do with Moshe extending his hand. If this story was supposed to
be read chronologically, pasuk 28 would make no sense as it would be impossible for the
water to return and cover the Egyptians after the sea had already returned and shook up
the Egyptians.
There are multiple inconsistencies in the terminology used in the the pesukim as well.
Pasuk 27 describes the sea returning and pasuk 28 describes the waters returning. Why
would there be a difference between the sea and the waters? There is also an inconsistency
in the Torah’s description of the Egyptians as Mitzrayim or heil Paroah – Pharaoh’s soldiers.
Throughout the story, the Torah also alternates between describing the dry land as yabasha
or harava. All these inconsistencies require explanation.
Again, all of these difficulties can be easily resolved similar to how we resolved the difficul-
ties associated with the description of the sea splitting above. The Torah here is describing
two different ways of the sea returning corresponding to the two different ways of the sea
splitting. Combining the pesukim of the sea splitting and returning and then arranging them
based on middat ha-din and middat ha-rahamim, this is what we find:

71
 Pesah

MIDDAT HA-DIN MIDDAT HA-RAHAMIM

SEA ‫ל־ה ָ ּים וַ ִ ּי ָ ּב ְקע ּו ַה ָּמיִ ם‬

ַ ‫וַ ֵ ּיט מ ׁ ֶֹשה ֶאת־יָ דוֹ ַע‬ ַ ‫וַ ּיוֹ ֶל ְך ה׳ ֶא‬
‫ת־ה ָ ּים ְ ּברו ַּח ָק ִדים ַע ָּזה כּ ׇל־‬
SPLITTING Moshe extended his hand upon ‫ת־ה ָ ּים ֶל ָח ָר ָבה‬
ַ ‫ַה ַ ּליְ ָלה וַ ָ ּי ֶשׂם ֶא‬
the sea and the waters split. Hashem moved the sea with a
powerful east wind all night and
made the sea dry land

SEA ‫ל־ה ָ ּים‬

ַ ‫וַ ֵ ּיט מ ׁ ֶֹשה ֶאת־יָ דוֹ ַע‬ ָ ‫וַ ָ ּי ׁשׇב ַה ָ ּים ִל ְפנוֹ ת בּ ֶֹקר ְל ֵא‬
‫יתנוֹ ו ִּמ ְצ ַריִ ם‬
RETURNING ָ ‫וַ ָ ּי ׁ ֻשב ּו ַה ַּמיִ ם וַ יְ ַכ ּס ּו ֶא‬
‫ת־ה ֶר ֶכב וְ ֶאת־‬ ‫ת־מ ְצ ַריִ ם‬ִ ‫נָ ִסים ִל ְק ָראתוֹ וַ יְ נַ ֵער ה׳ ֶא‬
‫ַה ּ ָפ ָר ׁ ִשים ְלכֹל ֵחיל ּ ַפ ְרעֹה ַה ָ ּב ִאים‬ ‫ְ ּבתוֹ ְך ַה ָ ּים‬
ֶ ‫יהם ַ ּב ָ ּים ל ֹא־נִ ׁ ְש ַאר ָ ּב ֶהם ַע‬
‫ד־א ָחד‬ ֶ ‫ַא ֲח ֵר‬ The sea returned before morning
Moshe extended his hand upon to its original vigor and Egypt fled
the sea. The waters returned towards it and Hashem shook up
and covered the chariots and the the Egyptians in the sea.
horseman and all of Pharaoh’s
soldiers that were coming after
them in the sea. Not one of them
remained.

These pesukim neatly divide into two complete and separate descriptions without internal
contradictions, duplications or changes in terminology. The aforementioned difficulties in
the text only arise because they are combined into one single description.
The parallels between the sea splitting and returning utilizing the two different middot of
Hashem now become clear. From the perspective of Hashem’s middat ha-din, Moshe extends
his hand twice. First the waters split and then the waters return. From the perspective of
middat ha-rahamim, first a wind blows all night and makes the sea a dry land and then in
the morning the sea returns to its original vigor. The word eitano is now easily understood
as it references how the sea was weakened when it was made a dry land and then returned
to its original strength. From the perspective of Hashem’s middat ha-din, the events occur
immediately after Moshe extends his hand. However, from the perspective of middat ha-ra-
hamim, the wind blows all night long and the sea returns before morning. We ultimately
find that both previous images we had of how the Red Sea split have a basis in the text.27
R. Breuer argues that middat ha-din describes how this event occurred in a miraculous
manner where walls of water formed on their right and left and Middat ha-rahamim describes
how this event occurred in a seemingly natural manner, with the sea drying out and then
returning.28 Therefore, within the perspective of middat ha-rahamim the drying out of the sea
and the drowning of the Egyptians is directly attributed to Hashem. When the splitting of
the sea occurred in a miraculous manner, the Torah ascribes the actions directly to Moshe,

27. Even with Hollywood, Elu veelu divrei Elokim hayyim!

28. A complete derivation of this concept is beyond the scope of this work. For a full explanation, see Pirkei Moadot
pg. 194–196.

72
 Hakhmei Lev

but there is no doubt that Hashem is the true source. Conversely, in middat ha-rahamim, the
drying out of the sea appears natural, so the Torah emphasizes that this was all done by
Hashem, even though it could have happened naturally. The returning of the sea occurred
in a completely natural manner since Hashem did not need to return the sea Himself, only
to stop the eastern wind. Therefore, the Torah emphasizes that the next event – the Egyp-
tians being shook up – is directly attributed to Hashem.
Based on this, the difference between the “waters returned” and the “sea returned” is
now apparent. Within middat ha-din, the entire sea did not move and much of it might have
remained in its natural state. Only adjacent to the strip of dry land within the sea, “the water
was a wall for them on their right and on their left” (22) and not the entire sea. Therefore,
the Torah describes the return to the natural state as “the waters returned” – the waters
adjacent to the dry land that became a wall. Conversely, within middat ha-rahamim, the entire
sea moved as one when it was made a dry land and it returned as one. Therefore, the Torah
describes this as “the sea returned.”
Both through middat ha-din and middat ha-rahamim, through the miraculous and through
the natural, Hashem defeated the Egyptians at the Red Sea and saved Bnei Yisrael from
the hand of Egypt.

Combining the Two Texts into One Story

When trying to determine what actually happened in the text of the Torah as it is before
us, we must be careful. Without the correct approach, we risk falling into the trap of the
Sadducees and Karaites which Rabbinic Judaism has fought against for millennia. Reading
the text according to the pshat is part of our tradition. However, it is fundamentally against
the basic tenets of Judaism that the pshat is the only ultimate truth. Just like “eye for an
eye” is not the ultimate truth, the truth comes through drash. Although Hashem manifests
in this world through both His middat ha-din and middat ha-rahamim, there is only one G-d.
Reflective of this Oneness the fact that both of these two middot are intertwined into one
narrative in the Torah. Utilizing two underlying stories within the narrative of the splitting
and returning of the sea, we can now determine what occurred as described in the Torah.
It is important to note the consistent structure between both the sea splitting and
returning. In both accounts, it begins with Moshe extending his hand over the sea. The Torah
then describes the natural process by which the sea dries out or returns. It concludes with
the direct continuation of Moshe extending his hand over the sea – the waters splitting or
returning. Consequently, the natural event of the sea drying and returning interrupts the
events of Moshe extending his hand and the waters reacting as a result.
When the sea split, initially Hashem gave Moshe a command with middat ha-din to extend
his hand over the sea. With middat ha-din, Moshe extended his hand over the sea and this
began the process of the sea becoming a dry land through middat ha-rahamim by a wind blow-
ing all night long. The dry land needs to be understood figuratively as a state of not having
the sea fully covered. The entire pasuk can be read as a perat u-klal – a detailed statement

73
 Pesah

followed by a general summary: the waters parted – and how did this occur? First Moshe
extended his hand upon the sea and then Hashem brought an eastern wind all night long
to turn it into a dry land.
A similar method is used to describe how the sea returned. First Moshe extended his
hand over the sea with middat ha-din and the sea returned with middat ha-rahamim before
morning and Hashem shook up the Egyptians. The duplication of the description of the
Egyptians drowning in pesukim 27 and 28 can also be read as a perat u-klal. The waters
returned and covered the Egyptians (28) – how did this occur? First Moshe extended his
hand over the sea, the sea returned to its original vigor before morning and Hashem shook
up the Egyptians in the sea (27).
Through the use of shitat ha-behinot we have shown how Hashem saved Bnei Yisrael from
the Egyptians through both middat ha-din and middat ha-rahamim and how both of these are
recorded in the Torah together.

‫ שהדברים הכתובים כאן מתקרבים לאמיתה של תורה; תפילתי – שהם יתקבלו על דעת‬,‫תקותי‬
.‫אוהבי תורה ולומדיה‬
My hope is that what is written here is close to the truth of the Torah. My prayer is that it will
be accepted by those who love Torah and learn it.29

29. Mordechai Breuer, Introduction to Pirkei Moadot.

74
 Hakhmei Lev

True Liberation
rabbi daniel lecount

.‫החדש הזה לכם ראש חדשים ראשון הוא לכם לחדשי השנה‬
ׁ
This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months; it shall be the first of the months of
the year for you.1

The first mitzvah we were commanded by G-d as a people, even before the Exodus
from Egypt, was to set our own calendar.
We do not begin to calculate this calendar from the creation of the world. We begin after the
Exodus from Egypt. We begin the year’s calendar not on the first of Tishrei, Rosh Hashanah,
but on the first of Nissan, which can be called the “Rosh Hashanah for the redemption of
the nation.”
This leaves us with the following question: What makes this mitzvah unique among all
others? Why is this the first mitzvah that the Jewish people were commanded? What does
the Torah want us to learn from this?
To answer this question, we must introduce a concept highlighted by Rabbi Avraham
Yitzchak Kook. In R. Kook’s words:

,‫ מה שבמקרה זה הוא משועבד לאחר‬,‫ איננו רק הבדל מעמדי‬,‫ההבדל שבין העבד ובן החורין‬
‫ בן‬,‫ ולהפך‬,‫ אנו יכולים למצוא עבד משכיל שרוחו הוא מלא חירות‬.‫וזה הוא בלתי משועבד‬
.‫חורין שרוחו היא רוח של עבד‬
The difference between a slave and a free man is not only one of class, which in this case is [one
person being] enslaved to another [person] who is not enslaved. [Because in reality], we can find
a slave who is enlightened whose spirit is full of freedom, and vice versa, [we can find] a free man
whose soul is the soul of a slave.2

1. Shemot 12:2.
2. Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook, Maamarei Ha-Rayah, p. 158.

DANIEL LECOUNT, along with his wife Rut, are Shlichim and Judaic Studies teachers at Netivot HaTorah Day
School. Rabbi Lecount and his family live in Thornhill.

75
 Pesah

According to R. Kook, there can be two types of slavery: The first and most common kind of
slavery is “physical slavery.” This is when a person is not allowed to live, go, or work where
they want. They are treated as an object and not as a human being.
However, there is an additional form of slavery – “spiritual slavery.” This is a situation
in which a person is spiritually held captive, either voluntarily or unconsciously by another,
whose freedom of choice has been taken away. The “master” of this situation may be social
norms, habits, or fear of free-thinking.
The conventional definition of slavery is “the deprivation of liberty of one individual by
another.” In the past, the division between free lords and deprived slaves was manifested
primarily on a social level, in which a superior stratum of citizens were dominant over
other people in lower classes of society.
Within this model, the freeman is someone who belongs to this “ruling class” and the
slave belongs to the lower class of enslaved people. R. Kook pointed out, such a definition,
which is fundamentally social or political, is imprecise. It is possible to find someone who
is physically a slave but whose spirit is full of freedom, and vice versa. One can find a “free
man” whose spirit is that of a slave. According to the conventional definition of slavery and
freedom, being a member of the “free camp” does not guarantee freedom.
The more accurate determination of freedom takes place on the spiritual plane. “Inner–
spiritual” freedom is infinitely more important than “outer freedom.” Spiritual freedom
means being loyal to oneself. People who act out of social pressures or imitation are essen-
tially living in the “spirit of slaves.” Freedom is not only measured by external conditions
but also by the degree one is able to be loyal or true to oneself. A person who conforms to
society’s expectations of them is not entirely free to be themselves. Instead of the individ-
ual determining their own choices and identity, the social image or expectation of them
determines their identity and behavior patterns. This is not a free person. An individual
who does things that are impressed upon them from external forces that are not natural
to them isn’t free.
This explains why we, the Jewish people, were commanded to sanctify the month as
the first mitzvah following the Exodus from Egypt. It is well known that the Jewish people
were enslaved in Egypt for 210 years. This slavery included both their bodies and their spir-
its. What can be done to free someone who has been bound for centuries in spiritual and
physical bonds? To this, the Torah responds: “‫החדש הזה לכם ראש חדשים ראשון הוא לכם לחדשי‬ ׁ
‫ – השנה‬This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months; it shall be the first of
the months of the year for you.”
In light of R. Kook’s definition of slavery and freedom discussed above, a slave and a free
man differ in a profound and unique way in regard to time. Slaves do not have any time
of their own, and they cannot control their time. This is why a slave is exempt from time-
bound commandment – “mitzvot aseh shi-hazman grama.” A free man is one who controls
his own time.

76
 Hakhmei Lev

A closer examination of these differences reveals that a slave is considered a slave even
in his free time (or idle time), and possibly even when he is released. Whereas, a free man
is considered free even when he is physically controlled by another.
There is a commandment in Parashat Bo:

.‫ועבדת את העבודה הזאת בחודש הזה‬

You shall do this work in this month.3

What is this work about? What makes it special? We can answer by saying that in the preced-
ing chapter, the Torah explained what the Passover sacrifice entailed without describing
it. When Israel entered the Promised Land, the above verse describes the work they had to
do for the Passover sacrifice. I believe another message the Torah is trying to convey here
is that it does not specify what the work is because it wants us to learn that true freedom
is freedom from enslaving physical work. However, that freedom leads to another kind of
work. It is this work that leads to true liberty.
Freedom comes with responsibility. Righteousness comes with obligations. While slaves
are exempt from responsibility, freemen are responsible for their families, their commun-
ities, and the world as a whole.
Keeping the commandments teaches us self-control, the control of passions, or at least
the choice to follow this path. Therefore, the Passover sacrifice that expresses this “work” is
a symbol of freedom. But there is a condition: the Passover sacrifice can only be celebrated
by a person who has been circumcised, because a foreigner does not belong to the Jewish
people and cannot perform “this work.”

‫זאת חקת הפסח כל בן נכר לא יאכל בו‬

This is the law of the Passover offering: No foreigner shall eat of it.4

Jews observing Passover are supposed to return to this concept of freedom every year and
renew within themselves an inner–spiritual freedom cleansed of all the external pressures
from without. This is true freedom. Liberation from the yoke of Egypt and inner mental
slavery from the masters (Egypt). According to this explanation, freedom is expressed in the
first stage of Israeli nationalism, namely the birth of the State of Israel, and in the second
stage, is doing the work of ‫ועשית את העבודה הזאת‬.
Ramban states:
‫ וממנו ימנו כל החדשים‬,‫ שימנו אותו ישראל חדש הראשון‬,‫וטעם החדש הזה לכם ראש חדשים‬
.‫ כי בכל עת שנזכיר החדשים יהיה הנס נזכר‬,‫וכו׳ כדי שיהיה זה זיכרון בנס הגדול‬
The rationale for the commandment to sanctify the months of the year is in order for the Jewish
people to count the first month. And from this month, we count the entire year’s months, etc. So

3. Shemot 13:5.
4. Shemot 12:43.

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 Pesah

that we [establish] a remembrance of the great miracle [of the Exodus from Egypt]. For whenever
we remember the month, we also remember the miracle [of the Exodus].5

According to Ramban, we must remember the miracle of the Exodus, at every step of our
lives. Perhaps this is because, as we explained, we will always remember that work is always
in front of us, and at the core of this work is freedom. A freedom which only comes from
the inner–spiritual freedom to be ourselves.

5. Ramban on Shemot 12:2.

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 Hakhmei Lev

Listen to the Younger Generation!

rabbi mordechai torczyner

In introducing the mitzvah of discussing the Exodus on Pesach night, the Haggadah
reports Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah’s reaction when he was unable to convince others to speak
of the Exodus every night of the year. “Behold, I am like seventy years old!” he declared,
“and I could not convince the Sages, until [Shimon] Ben Zoma provided exegetical support
for this ruling.”
Why was R. Elazar ben Azaryah’s age relevant? And why did he say he was “like” seventy
years old? We may suggest three approaches.

Approach 1: G-d Showed That I Deserve Respect

The Babylonian Talmud1 records the most familiar explanation. At one point, Rabban Gamliel
was demoted from his position at the head of the study hall, and the Sages sought to appoint
a teenaged R. Elazar ben Azaryah in his place. R. Elazar ben Azaryah’s wife protested to
him that he lacked the white hair which would mark him as an established scholar, worthy
of respect. A miracle occurred and he grew eighteen rows of white hair, which made him
appear “like seventy,” and deserving of respect.
That miracle took place many years before R. Elazar ben Azaryah commented on his
inability to convince the Sages. Nonetheless, R. Elazar ben Azaryah recalled the Divine
intervention and exclaimed: G-d performed a miracle to demonstrate that I deserve respect,
and yet the Sages did not listen to me!

Approach 2: G-d Helped Me Reach Old Age

The Jerusalem Talmud 2 also contends that R. Elazar ben Azaryah received a G-d-given
blessing, but not of premature aging. Rather, the miracle was that he survived to genuine

1. Brachot 27b–28a.
2. Jerusalem Talmud Brachot 1:6.

MORDECHAI TORCZYNER is the Rosh Beit Midrash (dean) of Beit Midrash Zichron Dov, a kollel and commun-
ity resource which unites Jews of all affiliations and all levels of background knowledge in Torah study. Nearly
3,000 of Rabbi Torczyner’s classes and articles are archived on www.yutorah.org. The Torczyners have been
BAYT members since arriving in Canada in 2009. Contact Rabbi Torczyner at torczyner@torontotorah.com.

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 Pesah

old age, despite the fact that people in leadership positions often die prematurely from the
stress of their roles.
The Jerusalem Talmud does not explain why R. Elazar ben Azaryah said he was “like”
seventy. Rabbi Elazar Azikri, in his 16th century Chareidim commentary to the Jerusalem
Talmud, suggests simply that when this event happened R. Elazar ben Azaryah was nearing
seventy, but not quite there.
In this version of events, R. Elazar ben Azaryah remarked that his decades of experience,
coupled with the Divine support that had enabled him to live that long, should have given
him greater credibility with the Sages.

Approach 3: Why Didn’t I Think of That?

Rambam presents an entirely different picture of our story. Whereas both Talmuds claim
that R. Elazar ben Azaryah expressed frustration with the recalcitrant Sages, Rambam
explains that R. Elazar ben Azaryah expressed frustration with himself.3
Rambam writes of R. Elazar ben Azaryah: “When he was young, he would study and
learn and read prodigiously, day and night, to the point that his strength was drained, and
he aged prematurely and he appeared like a man of seventy years. He aged willingly, as
recorded in the Talmud.”4
R. Elazar ben Azaryah’s work ethic was indeed legendary, as Rambam described it. The
Talmud records that R. Elazar ben Azaryah believed that approaching Torah with weak
commitment would be a sign of disrespect for Torah. He declared that a student who pretends
to amass great learning, but who actually fails to devote serious time and develops only a
superficial understanding, will not live long.5
Like R. Elazar ben Azaryah, Shimon ben Zoma excelled in Torah study in his youth.6 The
Talmud presents Ben Zoma as a paradigm of scholarship7 and exegetic skill,8 and he jour-
neyed into the mystical studies of Pardes with Rabbi Akiva.9
Rambam explains that at the time of the discussion regarding speaking of the Exodus
every night, R. Elazar ben Azaryah was already a senior authority, while Ben Zoma was still
a young man.10 This was the source of R. Elazar ben Azaryah’s shock: he was amazed not by
popular rejection of his point of view, but by the way Ben Zoma exceeded him in arguing
for that point of view. He declared, “I worked and joined myself with scholars [to the extent

3. Commentary to Mishnah Brachot 1.

4. Ibid.
5. Avodah Zarah 19b.
6. Sanhedrin 17b, Horiyot 2b, and see Rabbi Ovadia of Bartenura to Avot 4:1.
7. Brachot 57b, Kiddushin 49b.
8. Sotah 49a.
9. Chagigah 14b.
10. R. Elazar ben Azaryah was not the only elder sage to interact with Ben Zoma. R. Akiva was also significantly
senior to Ben Zoma when they entered Pardes, as Rabbi Akiva was at least 52, and Ben Zoma was a young
man. See Rabbi Ovadia of Bartenura in his commentary to Avot 4:1.

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 Hakhmei Lev

that I aged prematurely and appeared like I was seventy years old], and yet I never merited
to know the scriptural hint to the obligation to read this portion at night – until [this young
student] Ben Zoma taught it!”11

Our Seder
This passage belongs in our Haggadah for its technical exploration of the year-round mitzvah
of retelling our departure from Egypt, but Rambam’s view adds a dimension to our own
Seder experience. As Rambam tells it, R. Elazar ben Azaryah and Shimon ben Zoma present
two different models of Seder participant, the former a lifelong denizen of the study hall
who exhausted himself in study from the earliest age, the latter a youthful prodigy who
developed an idea which had long eluded his elder. We need both types of participants at
our Seder, the experienced and the fresh-eyed, the better to learn from each other and to
develop a stronger appreciation of the greatness of our Exodus.

11. Rashi to Brachot 12b seems to indicate that Ben Zoma taught his lesson on the day R. Elazar ben Azaryah
replaced Rabban Gamliel. This is difficult to square with the Babylonian Talmud’s version of R. Elazar ben
Azaryah’s aging, which states that he was a young man when he replaced Rabban Gamliel. Ben Zoma, far
junior, could not have been a member of the beit midrash at that time.

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Halakhah
 Hakhmei Lev

We All Want Mashiah, So Why

Does Nusah Ashkenaz Omit
“V’Yatzmah” in Kaddish?
rabbi n. daniel korobkin

During this year of reciting Kaddish for my father, z”l, I often find myself reciting the
words of this venerated prayer by rote. But when I am able to catch myself, I recall that the
words of Kaddish really have nothing to do with mourning over the dead. Rather, Kaddish
is a blessing and a prayer that Hashem’s name be increased and sanctified throughout the
world. The recitation of Kaddish provides merit to our departed loved ones, in that when-
ever a child or other close relative sanctifies Hashem, this elevates the soul of the departed.1
Reciting Kaddish also reminds one that there are varying traditions and nusha’ot (textual
versions) of Kaddish, especially when one is a guest at a shul where the nusah is different from
one’s own. One of the most glaring differences in custom is in the second line of Kaddish, in
which we pray for the aforementioned increase and sanctification of Hashem’s name “‫ְ ּב ָע ְל ָמא‬
ְ ‫”די ְב ָרא ִכ ְרעו ֵּת ּה וְ יַ ְמ ִל‬
‫יך ַמ ְלכו ֵּת ּה‬ ּ ִ – “In the world which He created according to His will, and may
He reign over His kingdom.” In many communities, including Edot Mizrah, Nusah Sefard,
and Nusah Ar”i, this is followed by the words: “‫יח ּה‬ ֵ ‫“ – ”וְ יַ ְצ ַמח ּ ֻפ ְר ָקנֵ ה וִ ָיק ֵרב ְמ ִׁש‬May His redemp-
tion sprout forth, and His Messiah come near.” These words seem quite logical, because
Kaddish is a prayer for a time when G-d’s name will be prominent throughout the world.
Indeed, our tradition repeatedly underscores how this will occur in the Messianic Age. Yet
strangely enough, this line, a prayer for the advent of the Messiah, is completely missing
from the Nusah Ashkenaz Kaddish, the version of prayer that we use at our shul, the BAYT.
Once, some time in the middle of the 20th century, a gentleman led the davening in the
shul of Rabbi Avraham Yeshaya Karelitz, also known as the Hazon Ish. During Kaddish, he
recited the “v’yatzmah” line, invoking the hope for the Messiah. A certain Jew from Pinsk
became incensed that this man was changing the accepted nusah in the presence of the

1. See Mishnah Berurah 132:10.

N. DANIEL KOROBKIN is Mara D’Asra of the BAYT and Publisher of the Hakhmei Lev journal.

85
 Halakhah

Hazon Ish. He zealously complained to the great rabbi, “This man is saying ‘v’yatzmah’!” The
Hazon Ish responded pleasantly and softly, “So? Don’t we also wish to see the Redemption?” 2
Rabbi David Assaf was a prominent rabbi and posek in Haifa in the early 20th century.
In 1967, his son, Rabbi Yehuda Assaf, published his recently deceased father’s manuscript,
“HaKaddish,” which discusses many aspects of this prayer. The author was also puzzled by
the omission of “v’yatzmah”:

Nusah Ashkenaz omits the line of “v’yatzmah.” This is troublesome; are not our Nusah Ashkenaz
brethren also desirous of the Redemption?! Why do they not add, “May His redemption sprout
forth, and His Messiah come near”? It may be that this is based on the Talmudic dictum, “May the
spirit of those who calculate the coming of the Messiah be blasted!”(Sanhedrin 97b). The Talmud
states this because those who predict the Messianic Age bring hindrance to the people of Israel
[because when these prognostications end up not coming to be, people become disheartened and
lose faith in our tradition].3

R. Assaf’s theory is that any kind of explicit mention or emphasis in our prayers about the
coming of the Messiah will create Messianic strivings. These prayers, in turn, will inevitably
bring disappointment and a loss of faith to certain adherents who, after praying for the
Messiah for years and not having their prayers answered, will abandon their faith.
I’m certainly sympathetic to the argument that those who predict and calculate the date
of the Messiah’s arrival do a disservice to our people. Jewish history has in its wake a litany
of false Messiahs and the tragic fallout from those episodes. But is just uttering a simple
wish for the Messiah to come too much? Will this one line cause people to lose faith? We
pray daily in the Amidah for “et tzemah David ‘avdekha” – “the sprouting forth of David
your servant.” This is clearly a reference to the Messiah. Furthermore, we pray daily in the
“U’Va L’Tziyon” prayer:

May it be Your will, Hashem, our G-d and G-d of our ancestors, that we observe your statutes in
this world, and merit, live, see, and inherit the goodness and blessing of the Messianic Age and
the life of the World to Come.

No one seems to protest against these prayers, despite these prayers’ fervent plea for us to
witness the coming of the Messiah.There must be some other reason, in addition to R.Assaf’s
stated concern, for the omission of “v’yatzmah” in Ashkenazic circles.

A History of Debate and Discrepancy

Before we attempt another explanation, it is worth noting that the issue over whether or
not to recite this line in Kaddish became something of a contentious and touchstone issue

2. This story appears in the booklet, Minhagei Vatikin, p. 18. It is included in later versions of the Bar Ilan Juda-
ica library.
3. R. David Assaf, Sefer HaKaddish (Haifa: HaMakhon L’Heker Kitvei HaRambam, 5768), 110.

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 Hakhmei Lev

in earlier generations between Hassidim and Mitnagdim (opponents of the Hassidic move-
ment). Rabbi Yosef Shaul Nathanson, the 19th century author of the responsa Sho’el U’Meshiv,
records a story of a father who was a “significant mitnaged” but who had a son who was a
Yarislover Hassid. The father adamantly insisted in his will that under no circumstances
could his son recite Kaddish for him if he was going to insert the “v’yatzmah” into his Kaddish.4
R. Nathanson quotes an earlier 18th-19th century rabbi, Rabbi Yaakov Ornstein, known by
his legalistic work, the Yeshuot Yaakov, who had to regularly contend with these kinds of
disputes between the Hassidim and Mitnagdim of his community.
These internecine squabbles between different groups of Jews seem to be quite anachron-
istic and petty for our times. Our objective is not to defend the honor of the Nusah Ashkenaz
Mitnagdim over the Nusah Sefard Hassidim. It is rather lishmah (for the genuine objective),
to find a reasonable explanation for the omission of a prayer for the coming of the Messiah,
and hopefully in the process, to find greater meaning in the recitation of Kaddish.
The question of whether or not to include “v’yatzmah” has deep historical roots, beginning
in the period of the Gaonim. Rav Amram Gaon’s siddur (9th century) leaves it out, whereas
Rav Saadia Gaon’s siddur (early 10th century) has only the added two words of “v’yatzmah
purkanei” without the extra words, “vikarev meshihei.” The French medieval works, Mahzor
Vitri (11th century) and Sefer Ha-minhagot of Rabbi Asher of Lunel (early 13th century) leave it
out, whereas the prayer commentaries of Rambam (12th century) and Rabbi David Abudir-
ham (14th century) include it. I have yet to find a cogent argument among the medievalists
defending either the inclusion or omission of this line.

Tosafot vs. Mahzor Vitri

Let us examine a dispute among the medievalists regarding the wording and meaning of
a different line of Kaddish. The Talmud (TB Berakhot 3a) expresses the great comfort that
Hashem receives upon hearing “Yehei Shmeh Rabbah,” the climactic line of Kaddish that is
recited by the congregation. But the Talmud cites a slightly different version of that line
from what appears in our Siddurim: “‫יה ַה ָ ּגדוֹ ל ְמב ָֹור ְך‬ ּ ‫“ – ”יְ ֵהא ׁ ְש ֵמ‬May His great name be blessed,”
ְ
instead of our standard version of “‫יְ ֵהא ׁ ְש ֵמ ּה ַר ָ ּבא ְמ ָב ַרך‬,” which translates to the same meaning,
but uses the Aramaic word “rabba” instead of the Hebrew “ha-gadol.”
The Tosafot commentary notes the different nusha’ot, attributing our nusah of “Yehei
Shemeh Rabbah” to Mahzor Vitri,5 the Siddur commentary written by Rabbi Simhah of Vitri,
a student of Rashi.6 Tosafot assert that there is significant difference between Mahzor Vitri’s
nusah and the Talmud’s, in that they translate into two very different messages. According
to Mahzor Vitri’s version, the four words of this phrase are actually two separate prayers:

4. Shu”t Shoel U’Meshiv, Vol. 3, 1:259.

5. Ad loc., s.v., “V’onin.”
6. Mahzor Vitri, ch. 89.

87
 Halakhah

1. “Yehei Shemeh Rabba” is a prayer for the eradication of Amalek, the embodiment of anti-Sem-
itic persecution. After the first Amalekite war against the Jews, shortly after the Exodus,
the Torah utilizes a two-letter name of G-d, “‫ה‬-‫י‬,” in describing the perennial struggle with
Amalek from generation to generation (Exodus 17:16). Rashi, in the name of the Midrash,
explains that G-d’s name cannot assume its complete four-letter format until Amalek
is eradicated. Our statement of “Yehei Shemeh Rabbah” (“May His name become great”) is
therefore a prayer that G-d’s name should be restored to its full four-letter spelling upon
the eradication of Amalek, which will ostensibly coincide with the coming of the Messiah.7
2. “Mevorah [l’olam]” is a separate petition, that G-d’s name should further be blessed in the
World to Come, which is the period that we will enter during and after the Messianic Age.
Tosafot use the Talmudic citation, which includes the entire phrase of “Yehei Shemei Rabbah
Mevorah,” to disprove Mahzor Vitri’s reading. According to the Talmud’s version, it is impos-
sible to uncouple this phrase into two separate prayers. 8 Tosafot thus read the phrase as
one prayer: “May G-d’s great name be blessed.”
What is the underlying dispute? Is there significant difference between the two opinions?
Both versions seem to be arguing for a glorious utopian future for the Jewish people, when
G-d’s name will be complete and blessed again. So what motivates Tosafot to challenge Mahzor
Vitri’s reading? Let’s look at the remainder of Tosafots’ commentary for some more clues.
After detailing the difference between Mahzor Vitri and Tosafot on the phrase “Yehei Shmeh
Rabbah,” the second half of Tosafots’ commentary is devoted to another dispute regarding
Kaddish. Why is the Kaddish written in Aramaic and not in Hebrew? In the words of Tosafot,
the answer given by “the world,” is that, according to the Talmud, angels do not understand
Aramaic.9 Noting the great impact this holy prayer has, the Sages did not want the angels
to become jealous of the Jewish people who have such a powerful prayer of praise at their
disposal. The Sages therefore composed the prayer in a language that the angels would not
be able to detect.
Here, too, Tosafot disagree with the explanation of “the world” and suggest that the real
reason why Kaddish is in Aramaic is because it was instituted for recital after large gath-
erings of Jews would hear a Torah sermon. Since many of the gathered were not literate in
Hebrew, the Sages sought to institute a prayer that would appeal even to the uneducated
(the “’amei ha’aratzot”). Therefore they chose Aramaic, the spoken language at the time in
the Middle East which could be understood by the masses.

7. Rashi Exodus 17:16.

8. Tosafot use a grammatical argument. The Talmud’s version of the phrase, “‫יה ַה ָ ּגדוֹ ל ְמב ָֹור ְך‬
ּ ‫יְ ֵהא ׁ ְש ֵמ‬,” places the
letter “heh,” used as “the” to demarcate a definite article, in front of the word, “gadol.” It therefore cannot
translate as “May His name be great,” but rather, “May His great name…” forcing us to lead into the next word,
“mevorakh,” as a necessary completion of the solitary prayer.
9. This answer also appears in a slightly different language in Mahzor Vitri, Ch. 87. For the deeper meaning of
this bizarre statement, see Ma’adanai Yom Tov commentary on Rosh, Berakhot, 2:2, s.v. ella lashon zeh meguneh
b’eineihem, in which he quotes Maimonides as saying that Arabic and Aramaic are distortions of Hebrew.

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 Hakhmei Lev

We now see two points of contention in which Tosafot oppose the conventional wisdom
about Kaddish: (1) “Yehei Shmeh Rabbah Mevorah” is really one prayer and not two (contra
Mahzor Vitri); and (2) the real reason for Kaddish being in Aramaic is not because of the
angels’ jealousy, but rather out of a concession to the illiterate masses. Is there any connection
between these two points brought by Tosafot? I believe these two ideas are deliberately linked.

The Interchange Between Jacob and his Sons

The Torah describes the patriarch Jacob on his deathbed: “Jacob summoned his sons. He
said, ‘Gather, and I will tell you what will befall you at the end of days’” (Genesis 49:1). Yet,
the ensuing verses are merely blessings that Jacob bestowed to his children, instead of the
revelation of future events as he had originally told them. The Talmudic tradition, as detailed
in TB Pesahim 56a and cited by Rashi, is that Jacob had originally planned to prophetically
share a glimpse of the Messianic future with his sons. But once they entered his room, the
Divine Presence departed from him, and he lost the ability to contain his prior vision. This
made Jacob consider that perhaps one or more of his sons was unworthy of hearing proph-
etic words. Once his sons detected his lack of confidence in them, they all cried out, “Shema
Yisrael!” “Hear O Israel: Just as there is only one G-d in your heart, so is there only one G-d in
ours.” Upon hearing this, Jacob responded with the second sentence from the Shema prayer,
“‫”ברו ְּך ׁ ֵשם ְ ּכבוֹ ד ַמ ְלכוּתוֹ ְלעוֹ ָלם וָ ֶעד‬
ּ ָ – “Blessed be the name of the glory of His kingdom forever.”10
From this Talmudic narrative, it appears that Jacob believed that there was some benefit
to his sons learning about the unfolding of Jewish history. By losing his prophetic train
of thought when his sons entered, he feared that perhaps his sons were unworthy of the
information. But in reality, having that information would have been counterproductive
to the Divine plan. Part and parcel of the suffering of Exile, which expiates and purifies the
Jewish people, is that the “why” of our suffering is shrouded in mystery. G-d Himself did
not want Jacob to reveal this information, as it would have defeated the purpose of Exile
in the first place.11
The sons’ proclamation of the Shema convinced Jacob that they were all righteous. There
was nothing inherently wrong with them that impeded him from relating the Messianic
future to them. It was rather G-d’s desire that this information not be shared with future
generations.
Why, then, did Jacob respond with the words, “Barukh Shem,” etc. – “Blessed be the name of
the glory of His kingdom forever”? His statement expressed his acceptance of the fact that
we cannot reveal everything about G-d at present, because of the occlusions and mysteries
of our current dark exile. Nonetheless, G-d was consistently the same in His glory for all
time, i.e., “‫”לעוֹ ָלם וָ ֶעד‬ ְ –“l’olam va’ed.” That knowledge that G-d’s glory is immutable restores
faith to one living even in the darkest of exilic moments.

10. Rashi, Genesis 49:1.

11. This idea is mentioned briefly by Rabbi Aryeh Leib Alter in his Sfat Emet. See Sfat Emet, Parshat Vayechi, 5631,
s.v., Nikhtav b’kitzur.

89
 Halakhah

The sons’ recitation of the “Shema” was an affirmation of their steadfast belief in G-d,
despite the fact that this world is shrouded in darkness and it is difficult to find Him. Jacob’s
response was a validation of their affirmation, and a hope to see G-d’s glory manifest even
during times of darkness.

Shema, Kaddish, and an Exilic Affirmation of Faith

But what does this have to do with the Kaddish? If we look at the comment of Targum
Yerushalmi (attributed to the Mishnaic sage, Yonatan ben Uziel) on the passage under
discussion above in Genesis (49:1), we will discover something fascinating. After providing
the Aramaic translation for the sons’ declaration of, “Hear O Israel, Hashem is our G-d,
Hashem is one,” the Targum then records Jacob’s response, which is the Aramaic translation
of “Blessed be the name of the glory of His kingdom forever.” The Targum translates that
as, “‫יה ַר ָ ּבא ְמ ָב ֵר ְך ְל ָע ְל ֵמי ַע ְל ִמין‬
ּ ‫“ – ”יְ ֵהא ׁ ְש ֵמ‬Yehei shemeh rabba mevarakh l’olmei olmin”!
These words are almost identical to the refrain contained in Kaddish recited by the
congregation in response to the leader’s initial words. If Jacob’s response of “Barukh Shem”
is synonymous with “Yehei shemeh rabba,” then perhaps the first part of Kaddish can be read
differently. Instead of a prayer, it is a faith affirmation of the same kind as the declaration
of “Shema Yisrael.” That is, despite the obscurity of this world, and despite the fact that it is
hard to achieve Divine Inspiration and see the Divine plan for the future, it is nevertheless
still possible to perceive G-d’s kingship in this world, in this pre-Messianic world of darkness
and obfuscation.
With this idea in mind, we can unpack the opening words of Kaddish and read them as
follows:
• “‫“ – ”יִ ְת ַ ּגדַּ ל וְ יִ ְת ַקדַּ ׁש ׁ ְש ֵמ ּה ַר ָ ּבא‬May the great name of G-d be increased and sanctified”
• “‫י־ב ָרא ִכ ְרעו ֵּת ּה‬ְ ִּ‫ֽא ד‬ ‫”ב ָע ְל ָמ‬ ּ ְ – “In this world [right now, the world which is shrouded in mystery
and where He can’t be fully revealed,] which He created according to His will.”
• “‫ל־בית יִ ְשׂ ָר ֵאל‬ ְ ‫[“ – ”וְ יַ ְמ ִל‬Despite the obscurity of this world,
ּ ֵ ‫יך ַמ ְלכו ֵּת ּה ְ ּב ַח ֵ ּייכוֹ ן ו ְּביוֹ ֵמיכוֹ ן ו ְּב ַח ֵ ּיי ְד ָכ‬
we nevertheless affirm that it is still possible for] His rule to become evident in your
lifetimes and in the lives of all the house of Israel [just as it is evident in the eyes of the
current speaker who is making this faith affirmation].”
• “‫”ב ֲע ָג ָלא ו ִּבזְ ַמן ָק ִריב וְ ִא ְמר ּו ָא ֵמן‬ ּ ַ – “[So may you affirm,] speedily and in the near future, and
say, Amen.”
If the opening of Kaddish is read in this way, it really has nothing to do with a prayer to
witness G-d’s glory in the Messianic Age. It is rather an affirmation that finding G-d in the
“here and now” is possible. Acknowledging that finding G-d in the present is quite difficult
and not attainable for everyone, the leader then calls upon the congregation to make an
affirmation of G-d’s greatness, if not right now, then some time very soon (“ba’agala uvizman
kariv”), even before the Messiah comes. Accordingly, reciting the line of “V’yatzmah,” a prayer

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for the Messianic Age, would be completely out of place at this point. This reading would
explain the Ashkenazic custom of omitting “V’yatzmah.”
I believe that this is the way Mahzor Vitri reads the opening of Kaddish. It is based on the
exchange between Jacob and his sons, which was depicted by the author’s teacher, Rashi,
in keeping with the Talmudic narrative. The leader is calling upon the rest of the congre-
gation to affirm G-d in the here and now. The response of the congregation is to recite a
blessing that is similar to Jacob’s blessing of “Barukh Shem.” Jacob accepted that there are
certain things that no matter how enlightened an individual is in the present, they will still
be unable to access prophetic knowledge about the Divine plan which spans all of human
history. But, instead of losing hope, Jacob could still look forward to the time, “l’olam va’ed,”
in the far-flung future, when knowledge of the Divine would be manifest and robust. Thus,
Mahzor Vitri reads the statement of “Yehei Shmeh Rabbah” as a congregational prayer to
witness the emergence of the four-letter name of G-d, as we get closer to the Messianic Age,
once Amalek is eradicated. It is secondarily a prayer to witness the fullness of Hashem’s
glory in the World to Come.
Perhaps this is the appropriate response to the leader’s opening declaration. Representing
the spiritual resolve of Jacob’s sons, he calls upon the congregation to affirm G-d’s greatness
even in this current world of opaqueness. The congregation accepts the challenge, but
knowing that not everyone can rise to that occasion, offers its prayer that even for those
who fall short of that expectation to find G-d’s greatness in the here and now, that they
discover G-d in the future, when He will be much easier to find.

Optimism vs. Pessimism over the Human Condition

Tosafot have a completely different reading of Kaddish, as do all others who include the
phrase of “v’yatzmah” in the opening paragraph. Perhaps this is because Tosafot are a bit
more pessimistic about the human condition, and do not feel that it would be realistic to
expect people who are reciting Kaddish to publicly affirm G-d’s glory in the here and now.
In their view, it is even more unrealistic to call upon the rest of the congregation to do the
same. Instead, Tosafot understand that Kaddish is an affirmation of the fact that at some
point in the future, Hashem will become manifest. “‫ ”יִ ְת ַ ּגדַּ ל וְ יִ ְת ַקדַּ ׁש ׁ ְש ֵמ ּה ַר ָ ּבא‬is thus a prayer
that the enlargement and sanctification of G-d, that is to take place in the Messianic Age,
should take place as soon as possible. Therefore, it is quite appropriate to add the words,
“‫יח ּה‬
ֵ ‫וְ יַ ְצ ַמח ּ ֻפ ְר ָקנֵ ה וִ ָיק ֵרב ְמ ִׁש‬,” a prayer for the Messiah to come speedily, so that the enlargement
of Hashem’s name will come to fruition.
If the leader’s prayer is for the coming of the Messiah, then what is the role of the respond-
ing congregation? Perhaps the answer is that they affirm the same wish, that G-d’s name
be enlarged as soon as possible with the speedy advent of the Messiah. This is expressed by
stating, “‫יה ַה ָ ּגדוֹ ל ְמב ָֹור ְך‬ ּ ‫“ – ”יְ ֵהא ׁ ְש ֵמ‬May that name which is to become great [when Messiah
comes] be blessed.” By “blessed” we mean that the “great name of Hashem” come into being
quickly.

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Now that we have outlined the different interpretations of the opening of Kaddish proposed
by Tosafot and Mahzor Vitri, let us now turn to the second half of Tosafot which deals with
the choice of wording of the Kaddish prayer in Aramaic instead of Hebrew. As mentioned
above, Mahzor Vitri sees Kaddish as a grand attempt of the human being to find G-d even
in this world of confusion and darkness. This reading suggests that the authors of Kaddish
have confidence and optimism about the human condition. Just as Jacob’s sons were able
to affirm “Shema Yisrael” spontaneously, so is every Jew capable of doing the same. This
reading speaks to the tremendous power within the heart of every Jew, and is liable to arouse
celestial jealousy. The angels are depicted throughout rabbinic literature as expressing
their contempt for man. Kaddish shatters the angels’ harsh criticism of mankind. This is
the view of Mahzor Vitri, who reads Kaddish as an optimistic depiction of the human being.
It appears that Tosafot do not have the same confidence in the human condition. Man
does not have a realistic chance of having a truly meaningful affirmation of faith in this
world shrouded in perplexity. The most we can do is pray for a time in the future when
Hashem will become truly manifest to us all. Tosafots’ realism about the type of people who
will be reciting and responding to Kaddish gives rise to the conclusion that the reason why
Kaddish is in Aramaic is not because of angelic jealousy, but rather because the illiterate
and uneducated masses who will be hearing Kaddish have a right to know what it’s about.
They, too, should understand the importance of praying for the Messiah, so that they can
participate in that endeavor.

Conclusion
We have seen that the difference in nusah of Kaddish regarding reciting the line of “v’yatzmah”
has a long and often turbulent history. At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be any reason
to omit this line, praying for the Messainic age, from Kaddish. However, by referring to the
Midrash about the interchange between Jacob and his sons before Jacob’s death, we have
demonstrated that the first part of Kaddish may not at all be a prayer to witness the Messianic
Age. In fact, According to Mahzor Vitri and other medieval sources who omit “v’yatzmah,” it
may be an affirmation of the Jew’s faith in the here and now, before the Messianic Age has
arrived. As such, the recital of “v’yatzmah” would be completely misplaced.
Yes, we all want Mashiah, even us Ashkenazim. But whether or not the opening of Kaddish
is the place to express that great national desire and aspiration, is at the core of whether
to include or omit “v’yatzmah.”
It is related that once, in the synagogue of Rabbi Yaakov Ornstein (the Yeshuot Yaakov quoted
above), a major mahloket (dispute) broke out over whether or not to recite “v’yatzmah.” R. Ornstein
turned heavenward and prayed, “Master of the Universe! Let the Messiah come speedily. At
least then, everyone will agree that we can omit ‘v’yatzmah!’”12 Amen, may we see it soon.

12. The story as presented in its “idealized” form, appears in the work, Rishpei Torah by Yehoshua Pinchas Spiegel
(Israel, 5747), 394. For another account that included physical violence, see Nitzotzot Geulah by Avraham Meir
Huberman (Israel, 1949), 34.

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Haircutting History: Understanding

the Evolution of Omer Customs
ezer diena

Introduction1
Shulchan Aruch2 (16th Century Israel) rules that from Pesach until the 33rd day of the Omer,
there is a widespread custom to avoid holding a wedding or taking a haircut. Yet, Shulchan
Aruch’s presentation of this custom differs quite significantly from earlier records of this
custom. For example, a copy of a responsum from the Ge’onim on this matter3 only mentions
that there is a custom to refrain from holding weddings from Pesach to Shavuot.4 Even Tur5
(14th Century Spain), which Shulchan Aruch is based on, writes:

There is a custom in all places not to marry between Pesach and Shavuot, and the reason is to
not excessively rejoice, for at that time, the students of Rabbi Akiva died…There are those places
that have the custom not to have haircuts, and there are those who [permit haircutting] from
the 33rd day of the Omer and onwards, as they say that then they ceased dying…

Our custom, in line with the ruling of Shulchan Aruch, incorporates two major changes
from the widespread custom recorded by the Ge’onim and many of the Rishonim:

1. Many of the sources discussed in this article are analyzed at great length in Simcha Emanuel, Minhagei Aveilut
Bimei Sefirat Ha’omer (Hebrew) Netu’im, Volume 20, pages 101–141. Some others are discussed in Mitchell First,
The Mysterious Origin of Lag Ba’omer, Hakirah, Volume 40, pages 205–217. These works will be cited through-
out by referencing the author’s surname without any further identification.
2. Orach Chaim 493:1–2.
3. Teshuvot Hage’onim, Sha’arei Teshuva 278. No specific attribution is given in this collection of responsa; how-
ever, Rabbeinu Yerucham (Toldot Adam Vechavah, Netiv 22, Volume 2) attributes this ruling to Rav Hai Ga’on.
For further discussion of this detail, see Emanuel, footnote 10.
4. The wording in these early sources is Atzeret, another name for Shavuot.
5. Orach Chaim 493.

EZER DIENA teaches Math, Science and Judaics at Bnei Akiva Schools of Toronto. After studying at Yeshivas
Toras Moshe for two years, Ezer received his B.Sc. in Chemistry and B.Ed. from York University. He then joined
Beit Midrash Zichron Dov of Toronto, where he studied for two years while serving as Rabbinic Assistant at
BAYT and teaching in the Toronto and Thornhill communities. He welcomes any comments or feedback at
ediena@torontotorah.com.

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 Halakhah

1. There is an additional custom not to have a haircut during this time.

2. These mourning customs cease on the 33rd day of the Omer.
Additionally, a further custom is mentioned by Shulchan Aruch,6 Tur7 and attributed to
Rav Hai Ga’on8 (11th Century Iraq), that after sunset, people would refrain from performing
certain labours. Yet, this is not a common practice nowadays.
This article attempts to present and organize the various suggestions that have been made
to explain why these customs are practiced during this time of year, the development of
the changes to the customs in the 12th–14th Centuries and hopefully offer new suggestions
to fill the gaps in some of the previous theories of these Omer customs.

Approach 1: Mourning Rabbi Akiva’s Students

According to the Ge’onic sources that discuss these customs, the clear and unequivocal
rationale given is that during this exact time period, a plague erupted among the students
of Rabbi Akiva (Talmud Bavli, Yevamot 62b). As a custom of mourning, we refrain from
marriages during this time of year. Additionally, the additional custom of some9 refraining
from work at night was due to either gathering to bury the dead at that time,10 or that they
spent the evening hours involved in various activities that were necessary to allow for burial. 11
This explanation easily allows for further stringencies and mourning practices, such as
not having a haircut during this time, or even other more stringent practices.
There are three major views that can be found among both halachists and scholars as
to what is being mourned:

1a: Ancient Plague

An overwhelming number of authorities explain that we are mourning for a plague of
askera (commonly translated as diphtheria) that ravaged many12 of Rabbi Akiva’s (or, in one
version,13 Hillel and Shammai’s) students. This is the simplest read of the Talmud, and is
generally assumed to be the accepted reason for our practices.
Yet, a number of questions remain. Why was the burial at nighttime? Why did commun-
ities, many hundreds of years later, take on additional mourning practices? Why didn’t the

6. Orach Chaim 493:4.

7. Orach Chaim 493; he writes that he “found this written.”
8. See Rabbeinu Yerucham, Toldot Adam Vechavah, Netiv 5, Volume 4.
9. Many authorities, such as Tur, mention women specifically as having this custom; see below for sources and
some elaboration.
10. See Tur, Orach Chaim 493.
11. Such as sewing garments for the dead; see Knesset Hagedolah, Hagahot Hatur, Orach Chaim 493:3.
12. There are various texts that offer different numbers of students (see, e.g., Midrash Tanchuma, Parshat Chayei
Sarah, 15:6, which reads “300 students”), but the numbers used are clearly intended as exaggerations; see Rabbi
Tzvi Hirsch Chajes, Mevo Hatalmud, Chapter 30.
13. See Sefer Arugat Habosem (ed. Urbach), Volume 1, Page 75, s.v. raiti katuv.

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Talmud write explicitly that these customs were taken on? Finally, why was there a shift
of the conclusion of these customs to Lag Ba’omer rather than Shavuot?

1b: Bar Kochba Revolt Deaths

Others14 suggest that we are in fact mourning for those killed in the Bar Kochba Revolt,
based on an assumption that the Talmud intended to reference the deaths from the revolt
in a coded manner.15 This suggestion solves a number of the issues with the earlier view.
For example, it may have been prohibited to bury these soldiers during the daytime, so they
needed to spend the night burying them, which led to the custom not to work at night. The
Talmud didn’t write about these customs directly, since it didn’t want to anger the Romans
or other authorities. Finally, some scholars16 argued that the date of Lag Ba’omer was a
date of celebration for a military victory on that day.17 Yet, based on the actual historical
development of this custom, in which Lag Ba’omer only starts being celebrated in the late
12th Century, this explanation is hard to accept, since battles against the Romans would
have happened at least a few hundred years earlier.

1c: Contemporary Tragedies Which Mirror the Past

A third group of authorities explains that while these practices began as mourning for
those who perished in the past, they were modified to reflect the mourning over those who
were lost at the time of the crusades. 18 This approach accommodates either of the above
two explanations (1a or 1b) as to the source of the original mourning, but has the advantage
of being able to easily explain the significant changes to these customs in the 12th and 13th
Centuries. Stringencies, such as refraining from hair cuts (and nail cutting or purchasing
new clothes)19 were simply an outgrowth of the current mood, which was incorporated
in the mourning of the Omer period (at which time much Jewish persecution was taking
place). This view is taken explicitly by the writer of a manuscript entitled Sefer Ha’asufot
(13th Century):

14. Various scholars have advanced this theory; for a partial list, see Rabbi Professor David Golinkin, Why is it Cus-
tomary to Mourn Between Pesach and Shavuot?, Responsa in a Moment: Volume 1, Issue No. 8, April 2007. For
a notable example, please see my article in The Benjamin and Rose Berger Yom Haatzmaut To Go 5779, page 11.
15. See Iggeret Rav Sherirah Ga’on, 1:9, who refers to this episode as a “shemad” against the students of Rabbi Akiva.
16. See a short list in Rabbi Evan Hoffman, Thoughts on Lag Ba’omer, https://anshesholomnewrochelle.org/
sermons/the-origins-of-lag-Ba’omer.
17. Interestingly, there are some later sources that claim that there is a tradition that Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai
left the cave (in which he hid from the Romans) on this day; it would work nicely with this approach.
18. This view was famously advanced to Rabbi Dr. Daniel Sperber, Minhagei Aveilut Bitkufat Sefirat Haomer (Heb-
rew), Minhagei Yisrael, Volume 1, Chapter 13, who brings ample support from many earlier sources. See Rabbi
Professor Golinkin’s article (cited above in footnote 14) as well regarding how this pertains to the position of
the modern-day Conservative Movement. See also Emanuel, page 114.
19. See Sefer Minhag Tov, #61 (Weiss Edition, page 231).

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 Halakhah

It further seems to me, that which we do not hold weddings between Pesach and Shavuot is due
to the pain of the decrees and the destruction of the communities in this kingdom.20

Lag Ba’omer, then, might have been the date of a 12th Century miracle. Indeed, this has been
raised by recent scholars21 in explaining a passage in Sefer Minhag Tov (13th Century Italy):22

But on the day of Lag Ba’omer it is permitted to practice all of these [aforementioned prohibited
activities], due to the miracle that took place.

There are those who even theorize that the custom to begin the mourning practices later,
at Rosh Chodesh (a custom brought by Rema 23 as an Ashkenazic practice and ultimately
practiced by many nowadays), is best understood as an outgrowth of the Jewish persecution
in the 11th and 12th centuries during that time, yet others reject this.24
Almost all mainstream halachic authorities follow the initial view that we still commem-
orate and mourn the loss of Rabbi Akiva’s students in an actual plague. Returning to our
original questions; why was there a prohibition on cutting hair added 1000 years after the
events that are being mourned, and how did the date of Lag Ba’omer gain significance?
While there has been very little discussion concerning the addition of the prohibition on
haircutting, there has been very significant discussion about the innovation of Lag Ba’omer.
There are two main explanations of Lag Ba’omer found in early halachic literature.
The first explanation is found in a few early sources,25 and is attributed to an anonymous
Tosafist. This Tosafist explains that 1626 of the 49 days of the Omer period are celebratory
days (on which we recite Mussaf), which leaves over 33 days of mourning. According to
this Tosafist, the cessation of the mourning customs on or after the 33rd day is an error
based on a misunderstanding of the calculation of 33 total days of mourning.27 Indeed,
these authorities write strongly against those who “observed” Lag Ba’omer as an end date
for the mourning customs.
Others defend the cessation of mourning customs on Lag Ba’omer. Although the Talmud
states that the plague killed Rabbi Akiva’s students from Pesach to Shavuot, there was

20. For more on this manuscript and printed versions of the work, see First, footnote 42 and Emanuel, footnotes
46 and 47.
21. See First, footnote 40.
22. #61.
23. Orach Chaim 493:3; see Shulchan Aruch there, who decries this custom as an error.
24. See First, footnote 38.
25. See, e.g., Orchot Chaim, Hilchot Kiddushin #21; Derashot Rabbi Yehoshua Ibn Shuib, Yom Rishon Shel Pesach.
26. Different authorities provide different calculations; the critical factor is that Shabbat and Pesach will overlap
at least once, and Rosh Chodesh and Shabbat may overlap as well.
27. This view of Tosfot is modified over the course of the next few hundred years, to the point that Mahari”l (15th
Century Germany; Dinei Hayamim Shebein Pesach Leshavuot #7) alleges that the students of Rabbi Akiva only
died on days on which Tachanun was recited, and that we celebrate Lag Ba’omer to remember that. It is also
reasonable to assume that this type of calculation is very relevant to the custom of beginning the mourning
practices after Rosh Chodesh Iyar. See Be’ur Halachah to Orach Chaim 493:3.

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either another text of the Talmud,28 or a midrash,29 or a tradition30 that the deaths actually
stopped on the 33rd day of the Omer. For example, Sefer Hamanhig31 (12th Century France),
justifies the custom to permit weddings after Lag Ba’omer in France and Provence. He claims
that Rabbi Zerachiah Halevi, the Ba’al Hama’or, found an old Spanish32 manuscript of the
Talmud that read that the students only died until “peros Atzeret.”33 This phrase, according
to Sefer Hamanhig and others,34 should be interpreted as 15 days prior to Shavuot, which
would mean that from the morning of the 34th day (not the 33rd) of the Omer, the restrictions
cease. This view, that restrictions actually stop on the 34th day, is accepted and codified by
Shulchan Aruch.35
Some modern scholars are unhappy with this resolution, since it doesn’t explain the
cessation of mourning on the 33rd day of the Omer, but rather on the 34th day of the Omer,
which was not the practice in France (or any other) community. 36 However, they ignore the
various resolutions offered by halachic authorities to resolve this issue.37 (It should also be
noted that other suggestions have been made as to how to understand the term “peros Atzeret,”38
but the interpretation of the Sefer Hamanhig is most accepted by halachic authorities.)
Many Spanish and French/Provencal authorities accepted this change in the text of the
Talmud (after all, the Spanish manuscript was found by a leading Provencal scholar), but
it was much less accepted by their German and Italian counterparts.39 Many of them likely
considered this text (“peros Atzeret”) to be a legitimate variant reading of the Talmud, but

28. See below.

29. See, e.g., Derashot Rabbi Yehoshua Ibn Shuib, Yom Rishon Shel Pesach.
30. See Me’iri to Yevamot 62b, although exactly what Me’iri intended has been the subject of much debate; see
Emanuel, pages 122–123, and footnote 37 in this article.
31. Hilchot Eirusin Venisu’in (Rafa’el Edition, page 538).
32. Chid”a (Responsa Tuv Ayin #18) cites various sources from the Rishonim that Spanish manuscripts of the Tal-
mud were considered more authoritative.
33. Note that while this claim is made by many reliable authorities, we have no evidence for it from the works of
the Ba’al Hama’or himself.
34. Based on its usage in Talmud Bavli Bechorot 57b-58a.
35. Orach Chaim 493:2.
36. See, for example, the somewhat cynical tone of Rabbi Evan Hoffman, Thoughts on Lag Ba’omer: “This is an
astounding example of halakhic development. Lag Ba’Omer, a late holiday of uncertain origins, was changed
to Lad 34( ‫ )ל“ד‬Ba’Omer so that a speculative theory about the holiday’s origins might suffer from fewer math-
ematical shortcomings.” (https://anshesholomnewrochelle.org/sermons/the-origins-of-lag-Ba’omer).
37. Two examples follow:
Rabbi Yissachar Tamar (Alei Tamar to Mo’ed Katan 3:8) writes that the Talmud in Bechorot 58a explains
this phrase to mean “not less than 15 days prior to Shavuot,” and that this passage may have meant 15, 16, 17
or more days prior to Shavuot. He cites Me’iri to Yevamot 62b, who explains that there is a tradition that the
deaths stopped on the 33rd day of the Omer, and explains that Me’iri also had the text of “peros” in his version
of the Talmud, and the tradition was that “peros” refers to the 33rd day of the Omer.
Maharikash (Erech Lechem, Orach Chaim 493:2) argues that “peros Atzeret” is halfway from the start of Iyar
to Shavuot, which would fall out on Lag Ba’omer; see there for further elaboration.
38. See First, 207–209.
39. Those who change the “no weddings” custom to end at Lag Ba’omer include (in no particular order): Sefer
Hamanhig, Me’iri, Abudarham, Rabbi Ibn Shuib, Kaftor Vaferach, Kolbo, Rav Avraham Min Hahar, Rashbatz.
For the Italian and German authorities that also mention Lag Ba’omer, see below.

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 Halakhah

would not have been willing to change the well-established custom of not marrying until
Shavuot. However, a new custom was emerging – many had ceased cutting their hair during
this same time period. Therefore, while these authorities were not willing to compromise
in regards to the old custom of not holding weddings, in regards to the new stringency of
hair cutting, almost all of them allowed for Lag Ba’omer to serve as the end date, based on
the alternative text. This view, which differentiates the two customs of haircutting versus
marrying, can be found explicitly in 13th and 14th Century works such as Shibbolei Haleket40
and Tur,41 and was likely also the view of the influential German Rabbi Meir of Rothenburg.42
Over the next few hundred years, the customs of Lag Ba’omer and avoiding haircuts spread
widely, until there was virtually no difference across all of Europe.

Approach 2: Unlucky Time of Year

Sefer Shibbolei Haleket (13th Century Italy) writes:

There are those places who have the custom not to have haircuts after Pesach until the 33rd day
of the Omer, and there are also those who do not marry between Pesach and Shavuot because
the days are disposed [towards catastrophe], as a plague fell among Rabbi Akiva’s students.43

According to Shibbolei Haleket and others,44 we avoid weddings not out of mourning, but
because this is an unlucky time. Additionally, nighttime activities, especially those outside
the house, might have been something that people avoided out concern that something
dangerous would happen.45
The significance of Lag Ba’omer could be explained with the argument that once Rabbi
Akiva’s students stopped dying (in accordance with the “peros Atzeret” reading), the days were
no longer inauspicious.46 However, the additional prohibition to refrain from haircutting

40. #235.
41. Orach Chaim 493.
42. There are two sources affiliated with his school that this topic comes up. Firstly, in the Tosfot to Yevamot 62b
ascribed to him (and actually written by a student; see Emanuel, footnote 69), it says: “And they all died from
Pesach until Atzeret – it is found in a midrash [that they died] until Lag Ba’omer. Therefore, the population
refrain from holding weddings until after Shavuot.” Emanuel (pages 119–120) is bothered by this source, which
seems contradictory, and he suggests that there was a scribal error here. Yet, the intention of this writer was
likely to say that it is only a midrash which supports that the students ceased dying on Lag Ba’omer, and
based on the strict reading of the Talmud, the appropriate custom is to refrain all the way until Shavuot. This
can be supported from another source referenced, yet not cited, by Emanuel (see footnote 50), namely, the
work Minhagim Debei Maharam. In the section entitled Techinah, although the author(s) mention that while
Tachanun was not recited on the 33rd day of the Omer, they also write that most communities refrained from
marrying until after Shavuot, and only a minority will hold weddings after Lag Ba’omer.
43. 235.
44. Such as Sefer Ma’aseh Hage’onim; see Emanuel, footnote 33 for a list.
45. See Talmud Bavli, Pesachim 112b about venturing out on certain nights. This detail may also bring the reader’s
mind to “Nittel Nacht”; however, it will not be explored further in this article.
46. Similarly, it is possible that a later starting date for the restrictions would be viable, if we consider Nissan to
be a very positive time. See Ma’aseh Hage’onim cited in Emanuel, page 110, and his discussion there.

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seems quite strange – why would people avoid cutting their hair during this time of year
just because it is unlucky?
An answer may be found in another strange practice that is mentioned by those who
subscribe to this view. Orchot Chaim47 (14th Century France/Spain) writes:

There are some who refrain from bloodletting and [other] health treatments, since these days
are disposed towards disaster, but “he who trusts in Hashem will be surrounded by kindness.”48

Thus, it seems that around the 13th Century or slightly earlier, some laypeople began to
avoid bloodletting, but Orchot Chaim is not clear whether this extended until Lag Ba’omer
or Shavuot. It seems that since this was initiated by the masses, they actually only felt that
this applied until Lag Ba’omer, which may have been a more “popular” date.49 Indeed, Sefer
Ha’asufot writes:

There is a practice in this kingdom not to hold weddings between Pesach and Shavuot, and not
to bloodlet until Lag Ba’omer, because the days are disposed [towards catastrophe].50

This works well with Ra’avyah (12th Century Germany),51 who, in listing times that people
avoid bloodletting, mentions the period between Pesach and Lag Ba’omer, among other
minor (and recent) customs. It may also be that since this was a practice of the masses to
begin with, they did not want to go such a long time between bloodletting.
It is extremely well-known that barbers (known as barber-surgeons) were in charge
of bloodletting and other medical procedures during the Middle Ages.52 Therefore, as the
masses began to avoid bloodletting because of how nervous they were about this practice,
they also stopped getting haircuts during the same time period. This explains why sources
prohibiting haircutting only come after earlier sources which record that people stopped
bloodletting. It also explains why Lag Ba’omer was used almost universally for the end date
for both bloodletting and haircutting. (This connection can hopefully serve as a basis for
further research into the history of the Omer customs).53

47. Hilchot Kiddushin #21.

48. Tehillim 32:10, which is being used here by Orchot Chaim to argue that people should not be afraid to bloodlet
during this time of year.
49. Orchot Chaim spent significant time in the previous paragraph denigrating the custom of observing Lag
Ba’omer (see above, where he calls it an error). It therefore makes more sense that the masses would err in
this manner as opposed to great halachic authorities of the time.
50. See footnote 20.
51. Shabbat #276; see Emanuel, footnotes 41 and 42.
52. See, e.g., Roderick McGrew, Encyclopedia of Medical History (McGraw-Hill), pages 30–31. For a connection of
bloodletting and haircutting in regards to the Omer, see Leket Yosher, page 97.
53. Those well-read in Jewish laws of bloodletting are likely aware that there is another practice to avoid blood-
letting prior to Shavuot (see Shabbat 129b). This, as well as many other details, may assist scholars in forming
new theories about the development of the actual date of Lag Ba’omer.

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 Halakhah

Approach 3: Time of Judgement and Fear

Rabbeinu Yerucham54 (14th Century France/Spain) offered another interpretation of this
custom. In discussing why there is no blessing of shehecheyanu over the mitzvah of counting
the Omer, he explains that this time is a time of judgement, and concludes:

And [the Korban Omer] is equivalent to the offering of a sotah (a suspected adulteress) from barley
[se’orim in Hebrew], which is the same tone as “G-d’s tempest” [sa’arat Hashem in Hebrew], and
therefore, we do not wed, and we grow our facial hair. [This reason is given] despite the [other
reason] that there were 12,000 pairs of Rabbi Akiva’s students that died…

Similarly, Rabbi David Abudarham55 (14th Century Spain) writes that because we are judged
during Omer (see Rosh Hashanah 16a), it is a time of sorrow. According to these sources we
avoid weddings because it is not a happy time (akin to mourning). The avoidance of haircut-
ting may be for the same reason, or it may be a sign of nervousness, akin to the midrash that
many people, in advance of their judgement, wear dark clothing and grow out their hair.56
In regards to not working at nights, a similar comparison to the case of a sotah (a suspected
adulteress) is made by Rabbi Binyamin, the brother of the Shibbolei Haleket.57 Building off
those authorities who write that the prohibition on working at night is strictly for women,58
Rabbi Binyamin suggests that women wanted to avoid any suspicion of adultery and show
that they were G-d-fearing, so they remained at home with their husbands during this
time of year.
The understanding that the Omer days are a time of judgement of sorrow has very
significant kabbalistic aspects to it, in that it is a time where G-d’s attribute of judgement
is heightened. Rabbi Avraham Saba (15th Century Spain)59 explains that kabbalistically, the
33rd day of the Omer is when G-d’s attribute of judgement subsides, and that would justify
ceasing these kabbalistic practices at that time.60
Perhaps an additional explanation can be suggested for the date of Lag Ba’omer accord-
ing to this approach. Emanuel61 noted various 13th Century Germanic sources that spoke
about completing the fasts of Bahab (the practice of many communities to fast and recite
selichot on Monday-Thursday-Monday at the start of Iyar) prior to the date of Lag Ba’omer.
Yet, Emanuel fails to account for the fact that it is actually mathematically impossible for

54. Rabbeinu Yerucham, Toldot Adam Vechavah, Netiv 5, Volume 4.

55. Tefillot Hapesach.
56. See Tur, Orach Chaim 581.
57. #235.
58. See footnote 9.
59. Tzeror Hamor to Vayikra 23:15; see also Kaf Hachaim, Orach Chaim 493:5 for further sources pertaining to the
kabbalistic discussion of Lag Ba’omer.
60. Additionally, the interest of the general populations in kabbalistic matters was significantly growing at that
point in history, as opposed to during Ge’onic times; this may serve to explain the changes in behaviour dur-
ing the times of the Rishonim.
61. Page 134 and footnote 131.

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 Hakhmei Lev

the fasts of Bahab to extend past Lag Ba’omer – the last possible date for a Bahab fast is the
32nd day of the Omer!62 Also, he fails to explain why it is primarily German authorities that
comment on this, and not their counterparts elsewhere.
To solve these problems, it is sufficient to note that while in other locales, the fasts of
Bahab in Iyar were given various different reasons,63 in 13th Century Germany, the leading
Rabbis, Mordechai64 and Ra’avyah,65 explained that these fasts were for agricultural success.
Thus, once the Bahab fasts were completed (in the latest possible scenario, by the 32nd
day of the Omer), other practices that were related to worrying about the upcoming yield
could be suspended, since the fasts had been completed! 66 There would be no need to be
concerned about the yield once the prayers and fasting for it had been completed, no later
than the 32nd day of the Omer, which is why the 33rd day of the Omer was a day on which
those practices could be suspended.

Approach 4: Other Mourning

Shibbolei Haleket cites his brother, Rabbi Binyamin (13th Century Italy), who explained these
customs as mourning for all those who sinned during their lifetime,67 rather than for Rabbi
Akiva’s students. In support, he cited Rabbi Yochanan ben Nuri,68 who took the position
(based on Yeshayah 66:23) that the judgement of evildoers in Gehennom is from Pesach to
Shavuot. Although we appear to rule69 in accordance with the opposing view cited there,
that their judgement takes place in the twelve months following their passing, nevertheless,
it is possible that this view also has halachic validity.70
Somewhat similarly, Rabbi Evan Hoffman71 points out that the Ba’al Hama’or (12th Century
Spain/France) 72 rules that we only count the Omer as a Rabbinic remembrance for the
Biblical counting. Ba’al Hama’or elaborates that this is a sad time, since he considers this
time period to be one of mourning for the Temple (as opposed to for people).

62. Even if the first of Iyar falls out on Shabbat, which means that the blessing for those fasting Bahab may
only take place on Shabbat, the 8th of Iyar, the fasts will still be completed on the 17th of Iyar, the 32nd day
of the Omer!
63. For a selection, see Tur, Beit Yosef and other commentaries to Orach Chaim 492.
64. Ta’anit, Remez #629.
65. Hilchot Ta’anit #863.
66. It is surprising that we do not see more explicit evidence of this in German writings (neither Rabbeinu Yeru-
cham, nor Abudarham were German); see Emanuel, pages 114–115, who notes the general paucity of German
sources that discuss the Omer restrictions.
67. The technical term used by the Mishnah is “resha’im”; however, in practice, we assume that we ourselves might
have this status for any sins we may have done.
68. Mishnah Eduyot 2:10, Seder Olam Rabbah Chapter 3.
69. See, e.g., Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deah 240:9 and 376:4, which discuss practices one can perform on behalf of
a deceased parent during this timeframe.
70. See Chok Ya’akov, Orach Chaim 493:3.
71. Thoughts on Sefirah, https://anshesholomnewrochelle.org/sermons/thoughts-on-sefirah.
72. To Rif, Pesachim 28a.

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 Halakhah

While the additional haircutting stringency makes sense since it is a form of mourning,
it is very hard to justify any reason whatsoever for ceasing mourning at Lag Ba’omer. Both
the destruction of the temple, and those who have passed away continue to be mourned
until Shavuot. There also seems to be no reason to avoid work during the nights of the
Omer, and indeed, Rabbi Binyamin himself suggested another rationale for that practice.73

Approach 5: Chol Hamo’ed

Sukkot contains a first day of celebration on which all creative labour is prohibited, followed
by six days of Chol Hamo’ed (commonly referred to as “intermediate days,” on which there
are certain leniencies regarding performing labours prohibited on Yom Tov), and then
another full holiday on the 8th day where there is a total ban on creative labour. Ramban
(13th Century Spain)74 notes that the same pattern is present from Pesach to Shavuot, just
with weeks replacing days. There is one week of Pesach, followed by an additional six weeks
of the Omer, followed by Shavuot, which is referred to using the term “Atzeret” (akin to
Shemini Atzeret). Talmud Bavli (Mo’ed Katan 8b–9a) writes that it is prohibited to marry on
Chol Hamo’ed, since one may not mix two joyous occasions. Thus, it is possible that another
source for not holding weddings during this time is that it is somewhat joyous, akin to Chol
Hamo’ed, and therefore, one may not hold weddings.
To explain another custom, Rabbi Yaakov Emden75 writes that this comparison is the
reason why some had the custom to avoid prohibited labours during the nights of the Omer.
It was not feasible to prohibit all labour for everyone the entire period of the Omer, so the
partial prohibition took place for the nights only.
Additionally, haircutting is another practice that is prohibited on Chol Hamo’ed, so that
an individual will not enter the initial holiday unshaven.76 This rationale does not hold true
for the full period from Pesach to Shavuot, which might be why shaving was permitted at
an earlier date (i.e., Lag Ba’omer) or right before Shavuot.

In summary, there are a number of positions taken by the Rishonim as to why there may
be certain restrictions during the Omer period. However, not every approach can justify
each of the restrictions and their full development. In many cases, they may have to be
combined, or rely on other explanations that don’t fall into any category at all.
The beauty of studying Jewish customs and their development not only allows us to
experience “eilu ve’eilu divrei Elokim Chaim,” “these and these are the words of the Living G-d,”
but also to gain a deeper appreciation and connection to our past as we practice many of
these customs today.

73. See above.

74. Vayikra 23:36.
75. Mor Uketzi’ah, Orach Chaim 493.
76. See specific exceptions in Mishnah Mo’ed Katan 3:1 and the associated passages in the Talmudim.

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 Hakhmei Lev

Brain Stem Death:

Rabbi Dr. Moshe Dovid Tendler’s
Greatest Impact on Medical Halakhah:
Did Rav Moshe Feinstein Agree with Him?
rabbi dr. lazer friedman

As a senior at Yeshiva University in 1983, I had the privilege of being in Rabbi Dr. Moshe
Dovid Tendler’s shiur in the morning and in his advanced biology courses in the afternoon.
He was a master teacher who stressed a text-based analysis of Gemara during his shiur.
In his afternoon biology class, he would pull out the latest edition of the New England
Journal of Medicine from his suit pocket, and scrutinize the latest medical advances with
the class. But beyond the texts he utilized, he regaled us with anecdotes he had with his
“Shver” (Yiddish for father in-law), Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (Rav Moshe). In life, one does not
always appreciate the opportunities they are afforded, and often, one reflects in retrospect
on changes they would have made if the grandeur of the moment was known. Whilst I am
definitely culpable on that count, I did know and appreciate that I was a student of one of
our generations’ ideal role models of Torah Umadda.
A cursory review of the folios of Igrot Moshe1 speaks to the enormous impact R. Tendler
had on medical halakhah. The numerous responsum penned by Rav Moshe in response to
questions of medical halakhah posed by R. Tendler has become the foundation of the field
of contemporary medical halakhah.
Notwithstanding all the areas of halakhah R. Tendler dealt with, the issue of brain stem
death was without doubt, the most controversial and influential issue he dealt with in his
lifetime. R. Tendler championed the concept of brain stem death, a position which pitted

1. Responsa of Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (1895–1986).

LAZER FRIEDMAN is a pediatrician at Mackenzie Health. At BAYT, he served twice as co-chair for the Assist-
ant Rabbi committee, and was on the senior Rabbi search committee. He received Semikha from Rav Baruch
Lichtenstein, Sgan Rosh Kollel of the Kollel Ohr Yosef. Lazer gives a Minchas Chinuch shiur at the Hashkama
Minyan.

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 Halakhah

him against many contemporary Gedolim, as well as his own colleagues from within Yeshiva
University.2 His approach led to the acceptance of respiratory death by the Rabbanut in Israel
in 1986.3 This decision allowed the development of heart and lung transplant programs in
Israeli hospitals. His position was also accepted by the Halachic Organ Donor Society (HODS)
and many Rabbis have attested to this opinion on the HODS website.4
This article will review the basis of R. Tendler’s revolutionary halakhic decision to accept
brain stem death as the definition of halakhic death, and will explore the evidence as to
whether Rav Moshe agreed with his novel idea.

Background
In 1968, a monumental paper was published which eventually became known as the “Harvard
criteria.”5 This became the standard definition for irreversible coma or brain death. A bedside
neurological examination could be performed to ascertain brain stem reflexes, and patients
who met the Harvard criteria, would be considered clinically dead despite persistent cardiac
activity. This revolutionized clinical medicine, and provided the impetus for research and
development of organ transplantation such as heart and lung transplants which require
a live donor. The immediate question faced by the Poskim was: does halakhah accept the
Harvard criteria as the definition of death?

Physiological Decapitation
R. Tendler introduced the concept of “physiological decapitation” a term he coined to support
the concept that the Harvard criteria was indeed consistent with halakhah. 6 R. Tendler cited
the Mishnah (Oholot 1:6) to establish that a decapitated animal is halakhically considered
dead even if there is movement of the body:

‫אדם אינו מטמא עד שתצא נפשו ואפי׳ מגוייד ואפי׳ גוסס זוקק ליבום ופוטר מן היבום מאכיל‬
‫בתרומה ופוסל בתרומה וכן בהמה וחיה אינן מטמאין עד שתצא נפשם הותזו ראשיהם אף על‬
.‫פי שמפרכסים טמאין כגון זנב של לטאה שהיא מפרכסת‬

2. This article will not attempt to review the various opinions regarding the definition and debate regarding the
timing and definition of death. The discussion will be limited to an analysis of the opinions of R. Tendler and
Rav Moshe. Rabbi Dr. Avraham Steinberg has done significant work on this topic. For more on the time of death
and related topics see his Encyclopedia of Jewish Medical Ethics (Feldheim, 2003), 3 volumes, Respiratory-Brain Death
(Meharvim, 2012) and Encyclopedia Hilkhatit Refuit, Vol. 6 (Schlesinger Institute for Medico-Halakhic Research,
1998), 816–885. Also see Rabbi Dr. David Shabtai, Defining the Moment (Shoresh,2012) and Rabbi J. David Bleich,
“Of Cerebral, Respiratory, and Cardiac Death,” Tradition, Vol. 24 (3), 44–66.
3. Tehumin, Vol 7, (5746), 187.
4. https://hods.org.
5. “A Definition of Irreversible Coma: Report of the Ad Hoc Committee of the Harvard Medical School to Examine
the Definition of Brain Death,” J.A.M.A. 205 (6) (American Medical Association, 1968), 337–40.
6. R. Dr. Moshe Dovid Tendler, “Cessation of Brain Function: Ethical Implications in Terminal Care and Organ
Transplants,” Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, Vol. 315 (1) (Wiley-Blackwell, 1978), 394–497.

104
 Hakhmei Lev

Humans do not impart impurity until the soul expires. Even if he was chopped up, even if he was
in the throes of death, he obligates levirate marriage and he exempts a levirate marriage. He
permits the eating of Terumah, and he disqualifies Terumah. Likewise, a domestic animal and a
wild beast do not impart impurity until their souls expire. If their heads were cut off, even if they
were still convulsing, they are impure, like the tail of a lizard which convulses.

The Gemara (Hullin 21a) expounds on this:

‫ מאי הותזו ר״ל‬.‫תנן התם הותזו ראשיהן אע״פ שמפרכסין טמאים כזנב הלטאה שמפרכסת‬
.‫אמר הותזו ממש‬
We learned in a mishna there (Oholot 1:6) with regard to creeping animals whose carcasses are
ritually impure: If their heads were removed, even if they are convulsing, they are impure like the
tail of a lizard that was severed that convulses even though it is not alive.

The Gemara, interpreting the Mishna in Oholot, explains that if an animal has been decapi-
tated the animal is considered dead with respect to the laws of impurity. Therefore, any
movement of the body is not recognized as a sign of life. Based on this, R. Tendler argued an
individual with brain stem death is the equivalent of physiological decapitation and would
have the status of being halakhically dead.

Did Rav Moshe Agree With R. Tendler’s

Position on Brain Stem Death?
R. Tendler asserted that Rav Moshe agreed with his position that complete and permanent
absence of any brain stem related vital bodily function is recognized as death. Moreover, R.
Tendler pointed to the fact that Rav Moshe agreed to his concept of physiological decapitation.
Rav Moshe authored five different teshuvot in his Igros Moshe, in addition to other written
works, that are germane to the discussion of brain stem death, and organ transplantation.
These will be reviewed here in chronological order.
The first cardiac transplant was performed by Dr. Christian Barnard in 1967, and although
it was recognized as the first successful transplant, it led to the death of the recipient within
18 days. The second transplant recipient lived for 1.5 years. Rav Moshe, in a teshuva written in
1968, addressed the new development of human cardiac transplantation. Notwithstanding
the fact that the second recipient was alive six months post-surgery, Rav Moshe issued his
famous psak (ruling) that cardiac transplantation is “double murder”:

.‫כי שתילת הלב שהתחילו הרופאים לעשות בזמן האחרון הוא רציחת שתי נפשות ממש‬
Heart donations, which the physicians have recently started performing, is murder of two souls.7

Rav Moshe felt the donor heart was taken from a live person and the surgeons were culpable

7. Igrot Moshe Yoreh Deah 2:174.

105
 Halakhah

for murder. Moreover, the recipient of the heart was engaging in a futile surgery which
would certainly lead to their death. Hence the term “double murder.”
It is important to note that at the time of the original cardiac transplant surgery, the
Harvard criteria had not yet been published, and there were no defined guidelines to establish
when an organ donor should be considered clinically dead. Similarly, cardiac transplant-
ation technology was at a nascent stage of development. Specifically, the management of
immunosuppression for the transplant recipient (required to prevent the rejection of the
transplanted organ), was in its infancy. Over time, improved surgical outcomes would
ultimately alter the halakhic decision making process.
In a subsequent teshuva written in 1970, Rav Moshe addressed a question regarding a
patient in a Persistent Vegetative State (PVS). Although PVS patients have absent cortical
activity, there is preservation of spontaneous respiration. Rav Moshe summarily rejected
the concept of brain death, as it does not appear in any Rabbinic literature. He ruled that
a person with spontaneous respiration, notwithstanding the absence of cortical activity is
considered fully alive and the absence of brain function is not a criterion of clinical death:

‫ רק זה‬,‫אבל האמת ודאי שלא זה שפסק המוח לפעול הוא מיתה דכל זמן שהוא נושם הוא חי‬
.‫שפסק המוח לפעול פעולתו הוא דבר שיביא למיתה שיפסוק לנשום‬
But in truth, it is certain that one whose brain has ceased to function is considered dead, for so
long as he is breathing, he is considered alive. However, one whose brain is no longer functioning
[and] performing its tasks, will lead to death as it will interrupt breathing.8

It is critical to differentiate between brain death which Rav Moshe absolutely prohibited,
and brain stem death. In this teshuva, Rav Moshe discussed a patient with PVS, who was
brain dead by virtue of the absence of cortical activity, however was not brain stem dead.
This teshuva cannot be brought as proof that Rav Moshe objected to the concept of brain
stem death.
Further in the teshuva, Rav Moshe wrote that respiration is not an indicator of life, but
rather it is brain and cardiac activity that define life:

‫ וגם אינו מאברים שהנשמה‬,‫אבל ברור ופשוט שאין החוטם האבר שהוא נותן החיות בהאדם‬
.‫ אלא דהמוח והלב הם אלו הנותנים חיות להאדם‬,‫תלויה בו כלל‬
It is clear and simple, that the nose is not the organ that gives life to a person, and it is also not
one of the organs that respiration is dependent upon, rather it is the brain and heart that give
life to a person.

Rav Moshe concluded this teshuva by ruling that the removal of an organ from an individual
who lacks spontaneous respiration is tantamount to murder:

‫עכ״פ לדינא כיון שאיכא מציאות שיהיה חי אף בלא נשימה איזה ימים וכ״ש שאיכא מציאות‬
8. Igrot Moshe Yoreh Deah 2: 146.

106
 Hakhmei Lev

‫לזמן קצר ואם באותו זמן שניטל ממנו הלב חי עדיין והספיקו להכניס לתוכו לב אחר שנמשך‬
‫] אבל פשוט וברור שאסור לעשות כמו‬...[ ‫מזה חיותו איזה חדשים ודאי יש לו דיני אדם חי‬
.‫שהתחילו איזה רופאים דהוא רציחה ממש כדכתבתי ונתפרסם בעולם‬
As a matter of law, because there is a reality that he will live even without breathing for a few days
and certainly when there is a reality for a short time [that he will live], if at that time the heart
was taken from him [while] he is still alive, and there is enough time to put another heart into
him which would prolong his life by several months, he certainly has the status of a live person
[...] But it is simple and clear that it is forbidden to do [this] as some physicians have begun to
do, for this is literally murder, as I wrote and made public to the world.

In summary, Rav Moshe’s position is that brain death (not brain stem death) is unacceptable
as a criterion for death. He also states respiration, in and of itself, is not an indicator of life,
as it must be driven by brain and cardiac activity which define life. He also reaffirms his
objection to cardiac transplantation.
Although this teshuva is frequently cited as evidence of Rav Moshe’s objection to brain
stem death, it must be emphasized that this teshuva never addressed the issue of brain stem
death, or physiologic decapitation. This teshuva addressed a patient with PVS, who according
to all opinions is not brain stem dead, and therefore not clinically dead.
In May 1976, Rav Moshe sent a letter to H. Miller, the chairman of the New York State
Assembly’s Committee on Health, concerning the determination of death. Rav Moshe stated:

The sole criterion of death is the total cessation of spontaneous respiration. In a patient presenting
the clinical picture of death, i.e. no signs of life such as movements or response to stimuli, the
total cessation of independent respiration is an absolute proof that death has occurred. This
interruption of spontaneous breathing must be for a sufficient length of time for resuscitation to
be impossible (approximately 15 minutes).9

The content of this letter clearly supports the position of accepting the absence of spon-
taneous respiration as clinical death, and is a paraphrasing of his teshuva written in 1976.10
In this teshuva Rav Moshe responded to a question submitted by R. Tendler, and addressed
the specific question of the establishment of the time of death:

‫ שהיה שם לא יחזירו לפיו עוד הפעם עד‬/‫החמצן‬/ ‫אבל כשפסקה מלעבוד שנחסר העקסינזען‬
‫ ואם יחיה היינו‬,‫ שאם אינו חי כבר יפסיק מלנשום וידעו שהוא מת‬,‫עבור זמן קצר כרבע שעה‬
‫שיראו שהוא נושם גם בלא המכונה אך בקושי ובהפסקים יחזירו המכונה עוד הפעם לפיו מיד‬
.‫וכה יעשו הרבה פעמים עד שיוטב מצבו או שיראו שאינו נושם בעצמו כלל שהוא מת‬
But when the ventilator stops working due to the lack of oxygen that was there, they should not
resume ventilation for a short period of time, like 15 minutes. Thus If he is not alive, he would

9. Dr. Fred Rosner and Rabbi Dr. Moshe Dovid Tendler, “Definition of Death in Judaism” The Journal of Halacha
and Contemporary Society, Vol. XVII, (Rabbi Jacob Joseph School, 1989), 23.
10. Igrot Moshe Yoreh Deah 3:132.

107
 Halakhah

stop breathing and it would be clear that he is dead. However, if he lives, and we see him breathe,
albeit with difficulty and pauses, then they must immediately resume ventilation. Such should
the practice be [even if it is required to do] many times until his condition improves or they see
that he is not breathing at all independently himself as he is dead.11

Specifically dealing with an individual in a coma and on a ventilator, Rav Moshe forbids
the discontinuation of the ventilator. However if the oxygen canister requires replacement,
Rav Moshe ruled that it could be withheld for a period of 15 minutes to determine if the
patient regains the spontaneous ability to breathe. According to Rav Moshe, the absence
of the resumption of spontaneous breathing determines clinical death, and the ventilator
need not be reconnected.
Rav Moshe then addressed the use of radionuclide perfusion scans to determine circu-
latory activity in the brain:

‫וכיון שאתה אומר שעתה איכא נסיון שרופאים גדולים יכולין לברר ע״י זריקת איזו לחלוחית‬
‫בהגוף ע״י הגידים לידע שנפסק הקשר שיש להמוח עם כל הגוף שאם לא יבא זה להמוח הוא‬
‫ברור שאין להמוח שוב שום שייכות להגוף וגם שכבר נרקב המוח לגמרי והוי כהותז הראש‬
‫ שא״כ יש לנו להחמיר באלו שאף שאינו מרגיש כבר בכלום אף לא ע״י דקירת מחט ואף‬,‫בכח‬
‫שאינו נושם כלל בלא המכונה שלא יחליטו שהוא מת עד שיעשו בדיקה זו שאם יראו שיש קשר‬
‫ ורק כשיראו ע״י הבדיקה‬,‫להמוח עם הגוף אף שאינו נושם יתנו המכונה בפיו אף זמן גדול‬
.‫שאין קשר להמוח עם הגוף יחליטו ע״י זה שאינו נושם למת‬
Since you are saying that now there is a test that physician specialists can use to determine
through the use of injected materials to determine if there is a disconnection between the brain
and the body, such that if the brain is not perfused with the injected material, then it is certain
that there is no longer any connection between the brain and the body, and the brain has already
been completely destroyed, and it is as if there was physical decapitation. Accordingly, we
must rule stringently for individuals who, although they no longer feel anything even by a stab-
bing needle and are not breathing at all without the [use of a] machine (ventilator), we cannot
definitively establish death until this test is done. For if one is to determine the presence of a
connection between the brain and the body, even though he is not breathing, the ventilation must
continue in his mouth even for a long period of time. If however, through this test, they determine
that there is no longer any connection between the brain and the body, then we can confirm that
the absence of his breathing is because he is dead.12

In this teshuva, Rav Moshe clearly ruled that the absence of spontaneous respiration is the
criterion for clinical death. Moreover, this teshuva seems to indicate the most support for R.
Tendler’s concept of physiologic decapitation. He addressed the use of perfusion scans which
in the absence of brain circulation becomes the equivalent of physiological decapitation.

11. Ibid.
12. Ibid.

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 Hakhmei Lev

If one is to marshal this teshuva as support for brain stem death and physiologic decapi-
tation, it should be noted that Rav Moshe argued for two crucial conditions that must be
fulfilled in order to establish the halakhic status of death. Firstly, the absence of blood flow
to the brain is viewed as a disruption of brain and body and thus similar to a decapitated
individual. Secondly, Rav Moshe also stated that the brain needs to be “Nirkav li-gamrei”
(completely destroyed).
The first condition is met in a brain stem dead patient as there is no longer any circulatory
connection between brain and body. The second condition of “total brain destruction” has
recently come under close scrutiny for brain stem dead patients. Recent studies have pointed
to the fact that temperature control in brain stem dead patients is maintained suggesting
an active role of the hypothalamus.13 This is a compelling argument for those reluctant to
accept physiological decapitation and brain stem death as equivalent to clinical death. In
defense of R. Tendler, R. Dr. Steinberg notes that the hypothalamus is a gland and not part
of the brain.He therefore suggests that the second condition of Rav Moshe requiring “total
brain destruction” is still met in a brain stem dead patient.14
R. Dr. Steinberg and the Rabbanut in Israel use this very teshuva in support of the accept-
ance of the respiratory definition of clinical death. R. Dr. Steinberg, and the Rabbanut do
not use the definition of brain stem death and prefer the term cessation of spontaneous
respiration. Rav Moshe, in the first part of the teshuva, clearly stated that the absence of
spontaneous respiration is the criterion for death. This is the basis for R. Dr. Steinberg
referring to this as the respiratory criteria for death.15 He further argues that respiration
is a sign of life, and the determinant of breathing comes from the brain, and not the heart.
The brain itself is therefore not part of the criteria for death.
In 1978, Rav Moshe revisited the issue of cardiac transplantation, and reaffirmed his
staunch opposition to cardiac transplantation. 16 Having received the updated medical
literature at that time from R. Tendler, about the poor prognosis of transplant recipients,
Rav Moshe maintained his opposition to performing cardiac transplantation and felt that
physicians who performed such precedures were liable for murder.
This teshuva does not contradict his earlier teshuva defining death by absent spontaneous
respirations. The 1976 teshuva was defining the moment of death, while the 1978 teshuva
forbade organ transplantation. This may reflect Rav Moshe’s concern for the high-risk
procedure and the guarded prognosis of surgical outcomes at the time of his writing.

13. Eelco F.M. Wijdicks and Eric A. Pfeifer, “Neuropathology of Brain Death in the Modern Transplant Era,” Neur-
ology, Vol. 70 (15) (American Academy of Neurology, 2008), 1234–1237.
14. “Halachic issues in the Determination of Death and in Organ transplantation,” (2012), 93–94n247.
15. R. Dr. Abraham Steinberg, “Keviat Regah Ha-Mavet Vi-Hashtalet Lev,” in Dr. Mordechai Halpern (ed.), Sefer
Assia, Vol. 7 ( Schlesinger Institute for Medico-Halakhic Research, 1993), 209–230.
16. Igrot Moshe Hoshen Mishpat 2:72.

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 Halakhah

In 1980, R. Tendler and Dr. Fred Rosner co-authored a manual of practical medical halakhah.17
In the introduction, the authors write:
Because of the far-reaching significance of many of these halakhic decisions, they were submitted
to Rav Moshe Feinstein for review. The language and analysis however are those of the authors,
who bear sole responsibility for the accuracy of the contents.

In this manual, the halakhic moment of death is defined as:

Total cessation of all brain function as determined by the Harvard criteria and radio-isotope
confirmation that the brainstem is not being perfused is absolute evidence that death has occurred.

Although not penned by Rav Moshe himself, this publication carries his approval and supports
the notion that Rav Moshe considered brain stem death, and physiological decapitation (as
proven by perfusion scan), as clinical death.
The final piece of literature Rav Moshe wrote on the topic of the halakhic status of death
was a letter he penned to Dr. Bondi dated November 25, 1984. This letter became known as
the “Bondi Letter” and was published as a teshuva posthumously in 1986.

‫ הערכאות‬,‫ כפי ששמעתי מחתני הרב הגאון מוהר״ר משה דוד טענדלער שליט״א‬,‫למעשה‬
‫ הגדרה שקוראים לה הרופאים “הארבערד‬,‫קיבלו רק את הגדרת המוות שהיא גם צודקת לדינא‬
‫ שנקראת מיתת‬,‫קריטיריא״ (התנאים לקביעת ההפסקה המוחלטת והסופית של פעולת המוח‬
‫ שכאשר מתקיימים‬,‫ שנחשב ממש כ״נחתך ראשו״ ר״ל של החולה‬,)‫ שהתקבלו בהארבערד‬,‫המוח‬
,‫ והנה אף שהלב עדיין יכול לדחוף לכמה ימים‬.‫תנאי הארבערד המוח כבר ממש מתעכל ר״ל‬
.‫מ״מ כל זמן שאין להחולה כח נשימה עצמאית נחשב כמת‬
Practically, as I heard from my son-in-law Rabbi Moshe David Tendler, the courts accepted only the
definition of death, which is consistent with the halakhah, a definition that doctors call “Harvard
Criteria” (the conditions for determining the complete and final cessation of brain function, called
brain death, that were accepted at Harvard), which is literally considered decapitation of the
patient, that when Harvard criteria are met, the brain is already really destroyed. And behold
[accordingly] even though the heart can still beat for several days, nevertheless as long as the
patient does not have the ability of independent breathing, he is considered dead.18

In this teshuva, Rav Moshe stated that he was provided updated medical information by his
grandson Rabbi Mordechai Tendler as well as his son-in-law, Rabbi Moshe Dovid Tendler. He
tells Dr. Bondi that the New York State law which uses Harvard criteria is consistent with
Halachah and the brain-dead individual is considered as having been decapitated. Therefore,
even if the heart continues to beat, so long as there is no spontaneous respiratory effort,
the individual is considered to be clinically dead. Rav Moshe concluded by referring the

17. R. Dr. Moshe Dovid Tendler and Dr. Fred Rosner, Practical Medical Halacha (Raphael Society of the American
Orthodox Jewish Scientists, 1980).
18. Igrot Moshe Yoreh Deah 4:54.

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 Hakhmei Lev

reader to his previous teshuva from 1976.19 This implies that he was reiterating his support
for brain stem death and physiological decapitation.
This is the clearest and most supportive written record in support of the argument that
Rav Moshe accepted the Harvard criteria for brainstem death and accepted its equivalence
as physiologic decapitation.

Conclusion
R. Tendler was a giant in medical halakhah. Through insight and knowledge, he combed
through Talmudic sources and developed the theory of physiologic decapitation as an
equivalent of brainstem death. His contributions directly led to the facilitation of organ
transplantation in Israel. He championed organ transplantation throughout his life despite
the fierce opposition he faced. He rested on the assurance that he had the approval of his
father-in-law, Rav Moshe, the leading contemporary Posek in North America. The written
works of Rav Moshe have been closely scrutinized over the past five decades to ascertain if
he supported the concept of brain stem death and physiological decapitation. Based on a
review of the available written works, it appears that R. Tendler indeed had the support of
Rav Moshe on the issue of physiologic decapitation and brainstem death.
There remains a fierce debate amongst the Poskim in defining the moment of death in
halakhah. Despite the tomes that have been written on this topic, the halakhah has not
reached a definitive conclusion or consensus. The debate on the definition of death has not
been resolved, and remains one of the greatest challenges in the field of medical halakhah.
On the issue of defining the moment of death, we are left with a “Teiku,” a Talmudic acronym
for a stalemate – “‫תשבי יתרץ קושיות ובעיות‬,”“Tishbi Yetaretz Kushyos V’ibayos,” and we await the
coming of Elijah to resolve the difficult queries.

19. See footnote 11 above.

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 Halakhah

On the Distribution of Molad

Times in the (Very) Large Cycle
daniel levenstein

Introduction
Quite often we find events associated with the Jewish calendar are a little different from
what we normally expect. For instance, one might wonder how often do we have a year
where Mattot and Masei are separated. How often is the haftarah for Parshat Mikketz actually
read (as Shabbat Parshat Mikketz usually falls on Chanukah and therefore typically has a
special haftarah)?1 How often do we have Erev Pesach on Shabbat?
The following are two approaches that can be used to find the answers to these questions:
1. Brute Force Method: Write a computer program that generates the entire theoretical
689,472-year cycle of the Jewish calendar,2 count the number of occurrences of the event
in question and divide that result by the number of years in the cycle.
2. Molad-Interval Approach: These types of events generally depend on the time of the
Tishrei Molad (New Moon; see description below) and therefore correspond to a specific
interval in the week. If we assume all Molad times are equally likely, then the probability
of an event should be given by the size of the relevant interval divided by the number of
Molad times in a week. We might then scale the result by 7/19 or 12/19 depending on whether
or not the event occurs in a leap year to reflect the fact that 7 out of 19 years are leap years.
For example, Mattot Masei is split, outside of Israel, during leap years where the first day of
Rosh Hashanah falls on a Thursday. Using method 1 above, the number of occurrences gener-
ated via computer is 72,576. Therefore, the probability of this event is 72,576/689,472 = 10.53%.
On the other hand, using method 2 above, for the first day of RH to fall on a Thursday, the

1. On a couple of occasions I’ve heard people say that Shabbat Parshat Mikketz always overlaps with Chanukah.
2. The 689,472-year cycle, along with other concepts mentioned in the Introduction, will be explained in more
detail below.

DANIEL LEVENSTEIN works for a life insurance company in Toronto. In addition to his interest in the Jewish
calendar, Daniel also has a strong interest in Ta’amei HaMikrah and, over the years, has given various talks on
the subject at local shuls.

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 Hakhmei Lev

Molad needs to be between Tuesday 18 hours, 0 chalakim and Thursday 17 hours and 1,079
chalakim. This interval has 51,840 chalakim. Since there are 181,440 chalakim in a week, the
required “probability” using this approach is 51,840∕181,440 × (7/19) = 10.53%. We are scaling by
7/19 because this event only happens during leap years.
Although both methods, in this example, yield exactly the same result, it would seem the
second approach should not always work, as not all Tishrei Molad times are equally likely.
Some Molad times occur 4 times throughout the cycle of the Jewish calendar and others
only 3 times. However, this article will show that, nevertheless, using the second approach
will give results that are so close to the true answer, that for all intents and purposes we
can use it as if it is correct. This is a particularly encouraging result because there are books
and articles that have discussed in great detail the likelihood of different Jewish calendar
events and they sometimes use method 2.
In addition, this article will briefly discuss how the Jewish calendar works in order to give
readers who aren’t otherwise familiar with its mechanics, enough background to be able
to follow the gist of the article. I’ve also included some references to the Rambam’s Hilkhot
Kiddush HaChodesh (HKH) which describes in detail, among other things, the workings of
the fixed calendar. The references are given as (HKH cx, py) which indicates Chapter x and
Paragraph y of Hilkhot Kiddush HaChodesh.3

Important Concepts
Before describing the two approaches, some background information regarding the Jewish
calendar may be helpful. This section describes the main concepts that are needed to under-
stand the mechanics of the calendar. Readers already familiar with its mechanics can skip
to the “The Large Cycle” section without any loss of continuity (although they may want
to glance at the “Year Type” section to see the convention that is being used to denote the
various year types).
• Molad (New Moon) – this is based on when the moon sun and Earth are in conjunction
(form a straight line), with the moon being in between the Earth and the sun. Since, from

3. There are many other classical sources that deal with the Jewish calendar. A survey of these sources is beyond
the scope of this article. I would point the interested reader to Sefer Ha’Ibbur by Ibn Ezra. In particular, there
is a series of Bar-Ilan seminars that deal specifically with the Jewish Calendar that have been saved to You-
Tube. One of the seminars highlights several of the calculations performed by the Ibn Ezra. The explanations
given by Dr. Eran Raviv are outstanding and highly recommended (go to YouTube and within YouTube, search
for “pesher ezra bar ilan” and it should be near the top of the hits). Another classic work is Sefer Ha’Ibronot (or
Evronot) which also deals with calendar calculations (it can be found on hebrewbooks.org). There are sugyot
in the Gemara as well that deal with calendar type calculations (see RH 25a where Rabban Gamliel gives the
length of the lunar month which is the backbone of the fixed calendar (although the length was not given
in the context of the fixed calendar)). There is also an interesting sugya in Arachin 8b-10a where Rashi men-
tions the shift in the Tishrei Molad time from one year to the next (for non-leap years) as being 4 days, 8 hours
and 876 chalakim and Tosafot on 9a gives the shift for a leap year as 5 days 21 hours and 589 chalakim. Both of
these calculations are key components of the current fixed calendar. The sugya itself is beyond the scope of
the paper but is only mentioned in the context of performing calculations related to the calendar. There are
other interesting related sugyot but the point here is just to point out several references in the classical works.

113
 Halakhah

the Earth’s perspective, the sun is behind the moon, the moon is not visible from Earth
at this time. For the purpose of this article, we are concerned only with the Molad of the
month of Tishrei. Therefore, all references to Molad times, unless stated otherwise, are
Tishrei Molad times. Also, for the purpose of the fixed calendar, the Molad actually refers to
the mean conjunction (i.e., it is based on the average duration between conjunctions) and
assumes the interval between mean conjunctions is 29 days, 12 hours and 793 chalakim.4
The Molad time is expressed in terms of: day of the week, whole hours that have elapsed
from the beginning of the day and the number of chalakim and will be denoted xd/yh/
zch. Example: Molad time 5d/20h/701ch means the Molad occurred on Thursday (day 5),
20 hours5 and 701 chalakim.
• Chalakim (singular chelek) – the smallest unit of time used in the determination of the
calendar. There are 1,080 chalakim in an hour.
• 19-year cycle – The leap years are determined based on a 19-year cycle as follows: years
3, 6, 8, 11, 14, 17 and 19 are leap years with an extra month (Adar II). For reference, the year
5782 corresponds to year 6 of the 19-year cycle (HKH c6, pp.10–11).
• Year Type (Keviut) – the year type is determined based on three variables: (i) the day of the
week that RH falls, (ii) leap year or non-leap year and (iii) if Cheshvan and Kislev have 29
or 30 days each. Once we know the year type, the characteristics of the year are known:
i.e., the parsha/haftarah distribution, the days of the week on which the holidays fall etc.
(note: year type is independent of the secular calendar)
• Large Cycle – The sequence of year types will eventually repeat (see Note 11 below). This
cycle is referred to as the Large Cycle in this article. Note: Machzor Hagadol is the clas-
sical term for the 28-year cycle (i.e., the one associated with Birkat Hakhamah). The term
“Large Cycle” is being borrowed for the purpose of this article to refer to a different much
longer cycle. The period of the Large Cycle is 689,472 years (proof provided in the article).
• Postponements (Dekhiyot) – As described in the next section, there are circumstances
under which Rosh Hashanah is postponed and is observed 1 or 2 days following the day
on which the Molad occurs.

The Jewish Calendar in a Nutshell

There are essentially four steps to building a Jewish calendar:
1. Establish whether or not the current year is a leap year:
• This is based on a 19-year cycle where the years 3, 6, 8, 11, 14, 17 and 19 are leap years
(HKH c6, pp.10–11)
2. For a given year, establish when the first day of Rosh Hashanah occurs:6

4. This means each month, the position of the Molad in the week shifts by 1 day, 12 hours and 793 chalakim
(HKH c6, p5).
5. To clarify, this is not the 20th hour but rather 20 hours have elapsed from the start of the day.
6. A starting point is helpful. The Molad in year 1 occurred on Monday, 5 hours and 204 chalakim (HKH c6, p8).
Every month, the Molad shifts by 1 day, 12 hours and 793 chalakim. From this, one can easily determine the

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 Hakhmei Lev

• This is determined based on the Molad. Ideally, Rosh Hashanah (RH) would be observed
on the day of the Molad, but in practice it is postponed under the following conditions
(note the day is assumed to start at 6:00 pm; noon is therefore at 18 hours and 0 chalakim):
◼ Molad Zakein: If the Molad falls on, or after, noon time (i.e., 18 hours), then RH is post-

poned at least until the following day (HKH c7, p2).

◼ GaT’RaD (G = Gimel = Tuesday, T = Tet = 9, RaD = Reish Dalet = 204): If, in a non-leap

year, the Molad falls on Tuesday, on or after 9 hours and 204 chalakim, then RH is
postponed two days (HKH c7, p4).
◼ B’TU’TaKPaT (B = Bet = Monday, TU = Tet Vav = 15, TaKPaT = Tav Kuf Pei Tet = 589): If,

in the year following a leap year, the Molad falls on Monday, on or after 15 hours and
589 chalakim, then RH is postponed one day (HKH c7, p5).7
◼ Lo ADU Rosh (A= Aleph = Sunday, D = Dalet = Wednesday, U = Vav = Friday): RH cannot

fall on Sunday, Wednesday or Friday. In those cases where it would otherwise fall on
one of these days, RH is postponed until the next day (HKH c7, p1).8
3. Establish the first day of Rosh Hashanah next year:
• I.e., project forward either 12 or 13 months (for a leap year) to determine the time of
the Molad of the next year, and, based on the principles above, determine the day of
the week of RH.
4. Adjust the months of Cheshvan and/or Kislev accordingly. In a normal year, Cheshvan
has 29 days and Kislev has 30 days. However, one day could be added to Cheshvan or one
day could be subtracted from Kislev in order to ensure the first day of RH in the following
year falls on the correct day of the week (HKH c8, p6-P10). Thanks to the GaT’RaD and
B’TU’TaKPaT postponements, we never need to adjust Cheshvan and Kislev by more
than ±1 day.9

Molad for any month. Since we are concerned with Tishrei Molads, we can also use the annual shift: in a non-
leap year, the Molad shifts by 4 days, 8 hours and 876 chalakim (HKH c6, p5); in a leap year the shift is 5 days,
21 hours and 589 chalakim (HKH c6, p5).
7. It is interesting to note that there was a dispute in the time of Rav Saadia Ga’on regarding the exact cut offs
(the two opinions differed by 642 chalakim), and, as a result the date on which Pesach fell in 922 C.E. was in
dispute. Note that the date of the previous RH (in 921 C.E.) was not in dispute as the difference affected the cut-
off for the GaT’RaD postponement in 922 C.E. which in turn impacted the number of days in Kislev/Cheshvan
(as per step 4.) and ultimately the day on which Pesach fell was different under the two systems by two days
(see: https://hebrewcalendar.tripod.com/benmeir.html).
8. The Rambam states that this postponement is due to astronomical considerations (see HKH c7, p7). Raavad
however disagrees and references reasons that are provided in Massechet RH (i.e., so that Yom Kippur doesn’t
fall on a Friday or Sunday) and he also mentions so that Yom Ha’aravah (Hoshanah Rabbah) doesn’t fall on Shabbat.
9. The idea is that we want non-leap years to have either 353, 354 or 355 days and leap years to have 383, 384 or
385 days. Suppose during a non-leap year the Molad fell in the GaT’RaD range, then the Molad in the following
year would fall on or after 18 hours of the Seventh day (Shabbat). This would cause Molad Zakein and Lo ADU
Rosh, in the following year, to kick in and results in RH of the following year being on a Monday (recall, RH
is not allowed to fall on Sunday). Absent GaT’RaD, RH of the current year would be on a Tuesday while RH
of the following is on Monday. This would result in a year with 356 days, which would violate our objective
of limiting the length of a non-leap year to 353, 354 or 355 days. Similarly for B’TU’TaKPat, if the Molad of the
current year is in the B’TU’TakPaT range and if the previous year is a leap year, then the Molad of the previ-
ous year would fall on or after 18 hours of the Third day (Tuesday). This would mean that RH of the previous

115
 Halakhah

Note that all other months have a fixed number of days. The months generally alternate
between 30 and 29 days starting with 30 days in Tishrei (see HKH c8, p5). The exception
to this is where we need to subtract or add one day, in which case the adjustment months
are Cheshvan and Kislev (as described above). Furthermore, in a leap year, the first Adar
has 30 days and the second Adar has 29 days (which strictly speaking doesn’t follow the
alternating pattern just described).

Example:
We will apply the four steps above to the year 5781:
1. The year 5781 is the fifth year of the 19-year cycle and so it is not a leap year.
2. The Tishrei Molad for year 5781 was at Thursday, 20 hours and 701 chalakim. Since the Molad
occurred after 18 hours, there was a 1-day postponement. This would have resulted with
RH falling on a Friday. However, since the first day of RH cannot fall on Friday, there was
an additional 1-day postponement and RH was deferred until Saturday.
3. The Tishrei Molad 12 months later for 5782 was at Tuesday, 5 hours and 497 chalakim. None
of the above postponements kick in, therefore RH for 5782 falls on a Tuesday.
4. In a normal year where Cheshvan and Kislev have 29 and 30 days respectively, the length
of the year is 354 days (assuming it’s not a leap-year). This would imply that the day on
which the subsequent RH falls, absent any adjustment, would be 4 days later in the week
(since 354 divided by 7 gives a remainder of 4). However, we’ve established that RH on
5782 is only 3 days later in the week (Tuesday in 5782 vs Saturday in 5781). In order to hit
our target RH day in 5782, we reduce the number of days in Kislev in 5781 from 30 to 29.
As a result, the number of days in year 5781 is 353, and, with RH of 5781 on a Saturday,
RH of 5782 is then 3 days later in the week on a Tuesday.

Year Types
The above gives rise to the notion of “year type.” A year type is based on the day that RH falls,
the number of days in Cheshvan and Kislev, and if a year is a leap year or not. Traditionally,
the year type is formulated using three variables: xBz where x corresponds to the day of the
week that RH falls, B indicates if the year is Regular (Cheshvan has 29 days and Kislev has
30 days), Defective (Cheshvan has 29 days and Kislev has 29 days) or Perfect (Cheshvan and
Kislev both have 30 days) and z corresponds to the day of the week that Passover fall. For
the purpose of this article, we will use an equivalent formulation, AxB, where A represents
whether or not the year is a leap year (A = a for non-leap years and A = b for leap years),

year is postponed to Thursday as Molad Zakein and Lo ADU Rosh would kick in. Absent B’TU’TakPaT, RH of the
previous year is Thursday and RH of the current year would be Monday. Given that the previous year was a
leap year, this would imply that the previous year had only 382 days (as the remainder of 382 divided by 7
is 4 and Monday falls 4 days after Thursday (with wrap around). Hence B’TU’TakPaT delays the current date
of RH by one day, resulting in the previous year (which was a leap year) having 383 days which is within the
acceptable range for leap years.

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 Hakhmei Lev

x is the day of the week RH falls and B is defined as noted above (i.e., denotes if a year is
Regular, Perfect or Defective).10
Since there are four days of the week on which RH can fall, three combinations for the
number of days in Cheshvan/Kislev and two choices for leap year (i.e., either is or isn’t a leap
year), one might expect there to be 4×3×2 = 24 year types. However, certain combinations
are not possible so in total we have 14 year types.

The Large Cycle

Most of us are already familiar with the fact that the Jewish calendar operates on a 19-year
cycle for the purpose of determining leap years. However, there is another less known cycle
that relates to the occurrence of year types. Suppose we label each of the year types 1, 2, 3…
14. We can then form a sequence based on the occurrence of year types. This sequence will
eventually repeat itself after a number of years.11 We will refer to this cycle as the “Large
Cycle.”12 The period of the of the Large Cycle can be determined as follows:
There are 181,440 chalakim in a week (i.e., 1,080ch×24h×7d = 181,440). For the cycle to restart,
we must have the same RH Molad time occur in the same year of the 19-year cycle. Now, from
the beginning of one 19-year cycle to the next, the time of the Molad shifts by 69,715 chalakim.13
The least common multiple of 181,440 and 69,715 is equal to 2,529,817,920. 14 This means
there will be 2,529,817,920/69,715 = 36,288, 19-year cycles until the Large Cycle begins again.
Therefore, in total, the Large Cycle has a period of 36,288×19 = 689,472 years.15

10. Example: a7D denotes a non-leap year where RH falls on a Saturday and the year is deficient (Kislev has
only 29 days).
11. This assumes the Jewish calendar as we have it today, will continue to be in use ad-infinitum. Although that
assumption is clearly not realistic, it is interesting to note the frequency of events if we take that assumption
as a given and then compare the results to the widely used “Molad-Interval Approach.” The “Molad-Interval
Approach” implicitly assumes an infinite, repeating calendar as well but makes some additional simplifying
assumptions.
12. Recall, this term is being used in this article to refer to the cycle of year types. This is not to be confused with
the classical term “Machzor Hagadol” which refers to a 28-year cycle and is connected to Shmuel’s calendar
which assumes that a year has 365.25 days.
13. Since there are 235 months in a 19-year cycle (12×19+7 = 235), and since the Molad shifts in the week by 1 day,
12 hours and 793 chalakim each month, the shift of the Molad from the beginning of given 19-year cycle to the
beginning of the next 19-year cycle is: 235×1 days+235×12 hours+235×793 chalakim = (7×33+4) days + (7×24×16+5×24
+12) hours + (7×24×1080+4915) chalakim. This corresponds to a shift of 4 days + (5 days+12 hours) + 4915 chalakim
after we divide out the number of days in the week (i.e., we can ignore the terms that start with “7×”). This
in turn equals a shift of 2 days (a shift of 4+5 = 9 days corresponds to a shift of 2 days when we divide out the
number of days in a week), 12 hours and 4915 chalakim. Converting to chalakim yields: 2×24×1080 + 12×1080 +
4915 = 69,715 chalakim. This can also be expressed as 2 days, 16 hours and 595 chalakim (as 4,915ch = 4×1080ch
(=4 hours) + 595ch) (See HKH c6, p13).
14. The least common multiple can be derived as the product of the two numbers divided by their greatest com-
mon factor, which, in this case, is 5.
15. Proof from: Halachic Times for Home and Travel, Leo Levi, Jerusalem, Rubin Mass, 2000 (due to COVID, I didn’t take
the book out of the U of T Library. The proof isn’t verbatim from the book but I believe this was the approach
which I saw about 13 years ago. He also has another book written many years earlier on a similar topic; It may
have been that book that I looked at.)

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Probabilities16
Quite often one hears statistics regarding the various year types. Some interesting examples
are the frequency of occurrence of the following:
• Erev Pesach falling on Shabbat
• Shabbat Parshat Mikketz does not occur during Chanukah
• Mattot Masei are split
A more obscure statistic would be the likelihood of the B’TU’TakPat postponement occurring.
Recall that this postponement kicks in when, the year following a leap year, the Tishrei
Molad falls on or after Monday, 15 hours and 589 chalakim but before 18 hours. We will focus
on this event as it explicitly relates to the time of the Tishrei Molad.
One conceivable way to calculate the required “probability” would be to take the number
of chalakim in the interval above and to divide it by the total number of chalakim in the
week. We will refer to this approach, of taking the size of the interval and dividing by the
number of chalakim in a week, for lack of a better term, as the “Molad-Interval Approach.”
Using this method, if N denotes the number of chalakim in the interval, then the probability
of occurrence is:
N/181,440
The above would be multiplied by 7/19 or 12/19 if the event is tied to a leap year or non-leap
year respectively (since 7 out of every 19 years is a leap year and 12 out of 19 years is not a
leap year).
Since there are 1,080 chalakim in an hour, and because 1,080−589 = 491, the size of the
required interval for B’TU’TaK’PaT is 2 hours and 491 chalakim which corresponds to 2(1,080)
+491 = 2,651 chalakim. We should also multiply the result by 7/19 to account for the fact that
this event (B’TU’TaK’PaT) only happens in years following a leap year (which is 7/19 of all
years). Furthermore, we divide by the 181,440 chalakim that are in a week. This leads to a
probability of:
(7/19)(2,651)/181,440 = 0.5383%
Since there are 689,472 years in the Large Cycle of the Jewish calendar, this implies that
the number of occurrences of B’TU’TakPat in the Large Cycle should be the above result
multiplied by 689,472:
689,472(7/19)2,651/181,440 = 3,711.40
Something is off. The result, if calculated correctly, should yield an integer since the number
of occurrences should be a whole number.

16. One might object to the use of the word probability since it implies that we are dealing with random events
whereas the Hebrew calendar is completely deterministic. However, one could argue that what is meant by
“probability” in this article is the following: picking a year at random, what is the probability that the ran-
domly chosen year has certain characteristics. If one is not convinced by the above, then replace the word
“probability” with “frequency” or an equivalent term everywhere in this paper.

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The other approach to finding these types of probabilities is to use a computer program
to generate all years of the 689,472-year cycle and to count the number of times the event
occurs. Using such an approach, it is observed that the true number of occurrences of
B’TU’TaKPaT is in fact 3,712.17 Therefore, using this approach, the required probability is:
3,712/689,472 = 0.5384%
Note that this is the “Brute Force Method” mentioned in the Introduction. Clearly the
two approaches give answers that are very close. The issue, though, is why are we getting
answers that are very close yet not identical.
Now, the Molad-Interval Approach above assumed:18
1. All Molad times are equally likely to occur
2. The distribution of leap years is such that we can simply scale by 7/19, i.e., in any interval,
7/19 of the years will be leap years
The fact is that not all Molad times are equally likely. In fact, some Molad times occur 4
times in the Large Cycle, while others only occur 3 times. If that’s the case, our probability
calculation shouldn’t work at all since it implicitly assumes that all Molad times are equally
likely to occur. Is it just a coincidence that we’re off by a very small amount (0.60/689,472)?
As it turns out, the Molad-Interval Approach will generally give results that are for all
intents and purposes correct for these types of problems. The error will, for probabilities
associated with single interval of Tishrei Molad times, not be greater than 1/689,472.19 The
reason for this has to do with the way Molad time occurrences are distributed.

Distribution of Molad Time Occurrences in the Large Cycle

The following is the central Assertion of this paper and will explain why the Molad-Interval
gives very accurate, but not perfect, results.
Assertion: For any 5-chelek interval of the week (i.e., an interval of 5 consecutive chalakim),
the 5 chalakim will, in total, appear as Tishrei Molad times, 19 times in the Large Cycle with
each year of the 19-year cycle being represented exactly once.
To show what this Assertion is saying, we will test it for an arbitrary 5-chelek interval
from Thursday, 20 hours and 701 chalakim to Thursday 7 hours and 705 chalakim (inclusive),20
i.e., we will generate the number of times each of these 5 Tishrei Molad times occur in the
Large Cycle21 and note the years (e.g., 5781, 196486, etc.) and the years in the 19-year cycle
in which they occur. The results are as follows:

17. I wrote a program (more specifically, a “script”) in the Python computing language which generates the entire
cycle and had it count the number of B’TU’TaKPaT occurrences.
18. These are the simplifying assumptions that are referred to in note 11.
19. The maximum difference between the two approaches will be discussed in more detail towards the end of
this essay.
20. This interval wasn’t completely arbitrary. I chose an interval that had the Molad for RH 5781 included.
21. The results were obtained in Python using the pandas library.

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 Halakhah

Table 1: From 5d/20h/701ch to 5d/20h/705ch

MOLAD YEAR TYPE YEAR IN CYCLE

5d/20h/0701Ch 5781 a7D 5

5d/20h/0701Ch 196486 a7D 7

5d/20h/0701Ch 387191 a7D 9

5d/20h/0701Ch 504548 b7D 3

5d/20h/0702Ch 143821 a7D 10

5d/20h/0702Ch 334526 a7D 12

5d/20h/0702Ch 451883 b7D 6

5d/20h/0702Ch 642588 b7D 8

5d/20h/0703Ch 91156 a7D 13

5d/20h/0703Ch 281861 a7D 15

5d/20h/0703Ch 589923 b7D 11

5d/20h/0704Ch 38491 a7D 16

5d/20h/0704Ch 229196 a7D 18

5d/20h/0704Ch 419901 a7D 1

5d/20h/0704Ch 537258 b7D 14

5d/20h/0705Ch 176531 a7D 2

5d/20h/0705Ch 367236 a7D 4

5d/20h/0705Ch 484593 b7D 17

5d/20h/0705Ch 675298 b7D 19

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The table above shows the number of occurrences of each Tishrei Molad time (each entry in
the “Molad” column gives the day/hours/chalakim of the Molad), the year in which it occurs,
the year type associated with that year (a = non-leap year, b = leap year, RH is on the 7th
day, D = deficient (Kislev has 29 days), and the year in the 19-year cycle in which it occurs.
Looking at the table, we see that four of the Molad times in the interval occur 4 times22
in the Large Cycle and one of the Molad times occurs only 3 times (5d/20h/703ch). In total,
the 5 Molad times occur 19 times as the Tishrei Molad. Furthermore, each of the years in the
19-year cycle is represented exactly one time in the 5-chelek interval.
Our Assertion states that these findings will be true for any 5-chelek interval of the week.
We will now justify this Assertion.

Grouping the Molad Times

We proceed by showing how we can group the Molad times of the week into 5 groups, and,
how we can associate with each group, specific years of the 19-year cycle (recall: Molad time(s)
always refer to Tishrei Molad times in this article unless stated otherwise).
We can partition the Molad times of the week into 5 groups by considering MoladTime
mod 5.23 For example, all Molad times associated with MoladTime mod 5 =1 belong to the
same group (which we will call Group 1), as do MoladTime mod 5 = 2 (Group 2), MoladTime
mod 5 = 3 (Group 3), etc.
The following table shows the Tishrei Molad times for all years of four consecutive 19-year
cycles. In each row, the final chalakim digit alternates between x and x+5 (with carrying)
and this pattern can be extended ad-infinitum (for example, the final digit in the first row
alternates between 4 and 9 forever).24 As a result, each row, which represents a year of the
19-year cycle, can be mapped to a MoladTime(Mod5)25 group.26 We indicate in the last column
MoladTime(mod)5 for the Molad Times in the row (where the MoladTime is expressed in
chalakim and MT is short for MoladTime).

22. For example, Molad time 5d/20h/701ch will show up as the Tishrei Molad in years 5781, 196486, 387191, and
504548, and these years occur in years 5, 7, 9 and 3 of the 19-year cycle respectively as indicated above.
23. Mod is a math function that gives the remainder of its arguments such that the expression a modb = r means
the remainder that results from dividing a by b is r. For example: 25 mod5 = 0, 26 mod5 = 1, 27 mod5 = 2 i.e.,
the remainder of 27 divided by 5 is 2.
24. See Raviv, E (2020) The Table of Sixty-One Headings as a Tool for Finding the Intervals between the Recurrence of Paired
Year Codes in the Jewish Calendar. Open Journal of Applied Sciences, 10, 169–190. doi: 10.4236/ojapps.2020.104014
(section 3.3).
25. A Molad time that ends with a 4 or 9, for example, has a remainder of 4 when divided by 5, hence such Molad
times belong to the MT(mod)5 = 4 group. The same idea applies to the other mod5 groups (we could arrive
at the same grouping by considering the last digit of the Molad times: Group 1 would be those times that end
with a 1 or 6, Group 2 would end with a 2 or 7, etc.).
26. This is the direct result of the fact that the shift in the Molad time from one 19-year cycle to the next is 2 days
16 hours and 595 chalakim (i.e., the shift from one cycle to the next is a multiple of 5), and the number of cha-
lakim in a week is also. a multiple of 5. See Note 13 above.

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 C YC LE 305 C YC LE 306 C YC LE 307 C YC LE 308
MTMOD5
YEAR OF
YEAR TISHREI MOLAD TIME YEAR TISHREI MOLAD TIME YEAR TISHREI MOLAD TIME YEAR TISHREI MOLAD TIME
C YC LE

1 5777 7d\20h\724ch 5796 3d\13h\239ch 5815 6d\5h\834ch 5834 1d\22h\349ch 4

2 5778 5d\5h\520ch 5797 7d\22h\35ch 5816 3d\14h\630ch 5835 6d\7h\145ch 0
3 5779 2d\14h\316ch 5798 5d\6h\911ch 5817 7d\23h\426ch 5836 3d\15h\1021ch 1
4 5780 1d\11h\905ch 5799 4d\4h\420ch 5818 6d\20h\1015ch 5837 2d\13h\530ch 0
5 5781 5d\20h\701ch 5800 1d\13h\216ch 5819 4d\5h\811ch 5838 6d\22h\326ch 1
6 5782 3d\5h\497ch 5801 5d\22h\12ch 5820 1d\14h\607ch 5839 4d\7h\122ch 2
7 5783 2d\3h\6ch 5802 4d\19h\601ch 5821 7d\12h\116ch 5840 3d\4h\711ch 1
8 5784 6d\11h\882ch 5803 2d\4h\397ch 5822 4d\20h\992ch 5841 7d\13h\507ch 2

122
9 5785 5d\9h\391ch 5804 1d\1h\986ch 5823 3d\18h\501ch 5842 6d\11h\16ch 1
Table 2
Halakhah

10 5786 2d\18h\187ch 5805 5d\10h\782ch 5824 1d\3h\297ch 5843 3d\19h\892ch 2

11 5787 7d\2h\1063ch 5806 2d\19h\578ch 5825 5d\12h\93ch 5844 1d\4h\688ch 3
12 5788 6d\0h\572ch 5807 1d\17h\87ch 5826 4d\9h\682ch 5845 7d\2h\197ch 2
13 5789 3d\9h\368ch 5808 6d\1h\963ch 5827 1d\18h\478ch 5846 4d\10h\1073ch 3
14 5790 7d\18h\164ch 5809 3d\10h\759ch 5828 6d\3h\274ch 5847 1d\19h\869ch 4
15 5791 6d\15h\753ch 5810 2d\8h\268ch 5829 5d\0h\863ch 5848 7d\17h\378ch 3
16 5792 4d\0h\549ch 5811 6d\17h\64ch 5830 2d\9h\659ch 5849 5d\2h\174ch 4
17 5793 1d\9h\345ch 5812 4d\1h\940ch 5831 6d\18h\455ch 5850 2d\10h\1050ch 0
18 5794 7d\6h\934ch 5813 2d\23h\449ch 5832 5d\15h\1044ch 5851 1d\8h\559ch 4
19 5795 4d\15h\730ch 5814 7d\8h\245ch 5833 3d\0h\840ch 5852 5d\17h\355ch 0
 Hakhmei Lev

Now we can observe for each year of the 19-year cycle, the MT(mod5) group with which it
is associated based on the MT(mod)5 column in the above Table. We can thereby deduce
the possible years of the 19-year cycle in which the Molad times for each group can occur
(remember, we can imagine the above table extended ad-infinitum to the right and all years
of the Large Cycle are accounted for). The Molad times corresponding to MT(Mod)5 = 1, for
example, by inspecting the above table, appear in years 3, 5, 7, or 9 of the 19-year cycle. We
can do the same for the other MT(mod)5 groups. The table below summarizes the groupings
and their respective (possible) years in the 19-year cycle:
Table 3

TISHREI MOLAD POSSIBLE YEARS

GROUPS
TIME MOD5 IN 19YR CYCLE

Group 1 MoladTime mod5 =1 3,5,7,9

Group 2 MoladTime mod5 =2 6,8,10,12

Group 3 MoladTime mod5 =3 11,13,15

Group 4 MoladTime mod5 =4 14,16,18,1

Group 5 MoladTime mod5 =0 17,19,2,4

Essentially, we have partitioned the Molad times of the week into 5 groups by considering
MoladTime(mod)5 and we have deduced the possible years in the 19-year cycle in which they
could occur. What this means is that if a Molad time belongs to Group 4, for example, then
it can only occur in years 1, 14, 16, or 18 of the 19-year cycle. Similarly for the other groups,
they can only occur in the years of the 19-year cycle as per the table above. This finding will
be key to proving the Assertion.

Observation:

A given Tishrei Molad time can (and does) show up more than once in the Large (689,472-year)
Cycle but it cannot show up more than once, within the Large Cycle, in the same year of the
19-year cycle. For example, if a Molad time appears in year 2 of the 19-year cycle, it can only do
so once in the Large Cycle. For if the same Molad time were to appear a second time, within the
Large Cycle, in the same year of the 19-year cycle (in this example, year 2), the Large Cycle would
restart and its period would be less than 689,472, which we know isn’t true.27

27. Alternatively, for any Tishrei Molad Time, and for a given year in the 19-year cycle, we can show that it will take
689,472 years for the same Molad Time to appear in the same year of the 19-year cycle using the exact same
argument that appears in the “Large Cycle” section above and thereby conclude that within a given 689,472-
year cycle, that the given Molad time cannot appear twice in the same year of the 19-year cycle.

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 Halakhah

We can now show that a 5-chelek interval cannot have more than 19 Molad occurrences in
the Large Cycle. We know that 19 occurrences are possible, as we saw the 5-chelek interval
example earlier in the paper (Table 1), but that the Molad times could only appear in the years
of the 19-year cycle as per Table 3; e.g., the Molad time in Group 1 would have to appear in the
cycle years noted above and the same for those in groups 2, 3, 4 and 5 (i.e., the same would
apply to the other groups – and in a 5-chelek interval of consecutive chalakim, we have exactly
one chelek from each Group). If we try to squeeze in one more occurrence, we would either
have a given Molad time appear in the same year of the 19-year cycle twice or a given Molad
time would need to appear in a year of the 19-year cycle of one of the other groups. Both of
these are impossible: the first, would imply the period of the Large Cycle is less than 689,472
and contradict our Observation above and the second would be inconsistent with Table 3.
Examples of these impossible situations are included in the table below. The last column
is impossible because the Group 2 chelek appears in year 15 of the 19-year cycle (contrary to
Table 3) and the penultimate column is impossible because we have the chelek from Group
1 showing up twice in year 9 of the 19-year cycle (contrary to our Observation). These exam-
ples are illustrative only but the same issues would apply whenever there are more than 19
occurrences associated with a 5-chelek interval.

Table 4

CHELEK E.G.: 20 OCCURRENCES –

YEAR IN CYCLE E.G.: 20 OCCURRENCES –
(IN A 5-CHELEK INTERVAL, NOT POSSIBLE
(19 OCCURRENCES NOT POSSIBLE
THERE IS ONE CHELEK (CONTRADICTS
AS PER TABLE 3) (CONTRADICTS TABLE 3)
FROM EACH GROUP) OBSERVATION)

Group 1 3, 5, 7, 9 3, 5, 7, 9, 9 3, 5, 7, 9

Group 2 6, 8, 10, 12 6, 8, 10, 12 6, 8, 10, 12, 15

Group 3 11, 13, 15 11, 13, 15 11, 13, 15

Group 4 14, 16, 18, 1 14, 16, 18, 1 14, 16, 18, 1

Group 5 17, 19, 2, 4 17, 19, 2, 4 17, 19, 2, 4

The upshot of this is that the 5 Molad times in a 5-chelek interval cannot appear, in total,
more than 19 times in the Large Cycle.28
Can the 5 Molad times in a 5-chelek interval, in total, appear less than 19 times in total in
the 689,472 year cycle? This could only happen if some other 5-chelek interval made up the

28. It may be helpful for the reader to look at Table 1 above and try to imagine what would happen if we tried to
have any one of those Molad times occur an additional time (so that we would have 20 occurrences associated
with that 5-chelek interval). If we’re looking at the Group 1 Molad time, it would either need to appear again in
one of years 3, 5, 7 or 9 of the 19-year cycle or it would have to appear in one of the other years of the 19-year
cycle (which are associated with a different Group). As explained above, both of these options are impossible.

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difference and had more than 19 occurrences.29 However, we have already seen that this is
not possible. So in the end, it must be the case that any 5-chelek interval corresponds to 19
occurrences in the Large Cycle with each year of the 19 year cycle represented once.30
This is great news for those who use the Molad-Interval method, as it implies that this
method will work perfectly for any interval that’s a multiple of 5 chalakim.
To show this, suppose we have an interval whose number of chalakim, N, is a multiple of
5. The total number of occurrences of the N Molad times in the Large Cycle will be given by:
N/5×19,
as each 5-chelek sub-interval (and there are N/5 such sub-intervals) has exactly 19 occurrences
associated with it (as shown above).
The probability associated with the interval will be:
(N/5×19)/689472 = N/(689,472×5/19)
But 689,472×5/19 = 181,440, which is exactly the number of chalakim in a week.
Therefore the probability of occurrence is:
N/181,440,
which exactly corresponds to the “Molad-Interval Approach” described above!
Hence the “Molad-Interval Approach” works perfectly for intervals that are a multiple
of 5. Furthermore, we saw that when looking at the Molad occurrences associated with a
5-chelek interval, each year of the 19-year cycle appears exactly once. This means that in
any 5-chelek interval, 7/19 of the occurrences will be leap years and 12/19 will be ordinary years.
Therefore, if we’re interested in an event that is associated with leap years, we can simply
scale by 7/19 (or 12/19 for non-leap years).
For intervals that aren’t a multiple of 5, we can split the interval into two parts: the largest
sub-interval which is a multiple of 5 and the remainder. The Molad-Interval Approach works
perfectly for the portion of the interval that is a multiple of 5. It is only in connection with
the remainder piece that an error in the calculation is introduced.
Returning to our B’TU’TakPaT example, the size of the interval is 2,651 chalakim which
can be expressed as 2650+1.
Since 2,650 is a multiple of 5, we know the Molad-Interval Approach will yield an exact
result and the number of Molad occurrences associated with that interval is given by:
2,650/181,440 (7/19)×689,472 = 3,710
The last chelek in the interval, corresponding to 2d/17h/1079ch occurs in the following years:

29. If each 5-chelek interval corresponds to exactly 19 occurrences, then we have accounted for all 689,472 years
of the Large Cycle. This follows from the fact that 181,440/5 = 36,288 is the number of such 5-chelek intervals
and multiplying by 19 yields exactly 689,472. Hence, if a 5-chelek interval has less than 19 occurrences, some
other 5-chelek interval would need to correspond to more than 19 occurrences.
30. We didn’t explicitly consider the case where we have 19 occurrences but not all years of the 19-year cycle are
represented. It is trivial, based on the above, that this case is impossible as it would imply that some other year
of the 19-year cycle appears twice, and given the constraints of Table 3 and the Observation, this is not possible.

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Table 5

MOLAD YEAR TYPE YEAR IN CYCLE

2d/17h/1079Ch 48825 b2P 14

2d/17h/1079Ch 239530 a2P 16

2d/17h/1079Ch 430235 a3R 18

2d/17h/1079Ch 620940 a3R 1

We are only interested in years that follow a leap year (as per the rules for B’TU’TaKPaT).
Years 17 and 19 of the 19-year leap year cycle are both leap years. Accordingly, the last
two entries in the table above follow leap years. Therefore, in total, the true number of
occurrences of B’TU’TaKPaT is 3712 (3,710 determined above plus two more occurrences
of the time corresponding to the last chelek in the interval). If we apply the Molad-Interval
Approach to the last chelek, we get 1/181,440×7/19×689,472 = 1.4 occurrences (as opposed to
the true number of 2).
Hence the error of 0.6 (2−1.4 = 0.6) which we noted at the beginning of this paper is the
result of this last chelek. However, if we are only interested in the frequency of occurrence,
then the exact approach yields 3712/689,472 vs the Molad-Interval Approach of:
(7/19)(2,651)/181,440

= (7/19)(19/5)2,651/(19/5×181,440), multiplying the numerator and denominator by 19/5

= (7/5)(2,651)/689,472

=1.4(2,651)/689,472

= 3,711.4/689,272
which differs from the true answer by only 0.6/689,472.31 The B’TU’TakPat postponement
is a relatively infrequent event, occurring in approximately 0.54% of all years. The relative
size of the error introduced by the probability method is considerably less for most events
of interest that happen with much greater frequency.

Other “Probabilities”
The table below compares the number of occurrences of each year type as calculated by

31. The approximate answer is 0.5383% vs the more precise answer of 0.5384% (rounded to 4 digits).

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the Molad-Interval Approach32 (Formula) and the Exact method33). The probability shown
is rounded to two decimals, and, as such, would be the same for either method.

Table 6

YEAR TYPE FORMULA EXACT “PROBABILITY”

a2D 39,369.60 39,369.00 5.71%

a2P 81,335.00 81,335.00 11.80%
a3R 43,081.00 43,081.00 6.25%
a5P 22,838.40 22,839.00 3.31%
a5R 124,416.00 124,416.00 18.05%
a7D 29,853.60 29,853.00 4.33%
a7P 94,562.40 94,563.00 13.72%
b2D 39,999.40 40,000.00 5.80%
b2P 32,576.60 32,576.00 4.72%
b3R 36,288.00 36,288.00 5.26%
b5D 26,677.00 26,677.00 3.87%
b5P 45,899.00 45,899.00 6.66%
b7D 39,999.40 40,000.00 5.80%
b7P 32,576.60 32,576.00 4.72%
TOTALS 689,472.00 689,472.00 100.00%

a = non-leap year, b = leap year: x, the middle number, is the day of the week, D = deficient year (Kislev has 29 days),
P = perfect year (Cheshvan has 30 days), R =regular year (Kislev has 30 days and Cheshvan has 29 days))

The results of the two methods are remarkably close!

At the beginning of the article we mentioned a few interesting Jewish calendar events.
These probabilities can be obtained from the table as follows:
• Erev Pesach on Shabbat – This happens when RH of the following year is on a Tuesday.
Therefore, that event has the same probability as the sum of the a3R and b3R year types
above34 and is equal to 11.51%.

32. See the Appendix for a table that shows how the results were obtained for the Molad-Interval approach.
33. The results were generated in Python using the pandas library.
34. In this case it’s easier to look at the year type of the following year. Note that the number of days between
Pesach and the following RH is always the same which makes it easier to look at the following year to deter-
mine the probability.

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 Halakhah

• Mikketz not on Chanukah – This corresponds to year types a7D and b7D above ie when RH
is on a Saturday and Cheshvan has 29 days (note a7R or b7R are both impossible combin-
ations, so only in the D type years does Cheshvan have 29 days if RH is on a Saturday) and
its probability is equal to 10.13%.
• Mattot Masei split (outside of Israel) – This corresponds to year types b5D and b5P above
i.e., a leap year with RH on Thursday (note: b5R is an impossible combination) and its
probability is equal to 10.53%.
Earlier in the paper, we mentioned that the maximum difference between the two approaches
for events associated with a single interval is less than 1/689,472. Deriving a universal upper
bound for the maximum difference, though, is beyond the scope of this paper. However, by
inspecting Table 6, it would appear that events that are the union of two or more of the 14
year types (the events noted above, for example, each correspond to the union of two year
types), would have a maximum difference of 2.4/689,472 = 0.000348%.

Acknowledgement and Other Sources of Interest

The motivation for my investigation into the occurrence of Tishrei Molads was the result of
a conversation I had around 13 years ago with Ari Brodsky, who wrote the excellent article
How is this year different from all other years?.35 In the article he mentions the frequency of the
B’TU’TaKPaT postponement. I asked if he generated all possible years in the Large Cycle
and he said he used what is described in this article as the Molad-Interval Approach. I set
up a spread sheet that could be used to determine how often Tishrei Molad times repeat. I
noticed some interesting patterns (i.e., they repeat in certain years of the 19-year cycle, they
occur 3 or 4 times in the Large Cycle, and the number of years that tend to elapse between
occurrences) but didn’t quite have all the pieces that I needed. I sent what I had to Ari and
his response included something to the effect: “…consider MoladTime mod5,” after which
the rest of the pieces fell into place (unfortunately, I no longer have the email exchange…
or the spreadsheet). He also referred me to a couple of interesting websites: Remy Landau’s
Hebrew Calendar Science and Myths,36 which also noted the frequency with which Molad
times occur in the Large Cycle and a connection to the 19-year cycle, and Dr Irv Bromberg’s
The Hebrew Calendar.37,38

35. How is this year different from all other years?: http://individual.utoronto.ca/aribrodsky/5765.html.
36. Hebrew Calendar Science and Myths: https://hebrewcalendar.tripod.com.
37. The Hebrew Calendar: http://individual.utoronto.ca/kalendis/hebrew.
38. Since our conversations/emails on the topic some 13+ years ago, there have been several papers that have dealt
with the Large Cycle and probabilities (which I hadn’t seen when I first wrote this paper). Of note, there is one
author who also pointed out that the Molad-Interval Approach (as it is referred to in this paper) isn’t precisely
equivalent to the more exact method of generating the Large Cycle. That author concludes that every 10-chelek
interval corresponds to 38 occurrences in the Large Cycle (see www.ajdler.com/jjajdler/fichiers/Reactionra-
viv_JR.pdf paragraph 4) whereas the central assertion in this paper, that every 5-chelek interval corresponds
to 19 occurrences, is slightly stronger. To confirm my assertion, I ran a Python script which cycled through
every 5-chelek sub-interval of the 181,440-chelek week and indeed confirmed that each 5-chelek interval indeed
corresponds to 19 occurrences in the Large Cycle with each year of the 19-year cycle appearing once.

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Before submitting the article, I did a quick search on the internet and found, of course, a
Wikipedia article. I also found a wiki book on the topic (Mathematics of the Jewish Calendar).
The author of that book notes the connection between Molad occurrences and the remainder
of the Molad time when divided by 5 (i.e., basically equivalent to the groupings discussed
in this article); this book and the other references mentioned above contain many other
interesting facts which go well beyond what was discussed in this paper.

Postscript
An early draft of this essay was sent to Ari Brodsky. Ari provided many valuable comments
which have been incorporated into the essay and additional sources of reference. Needless
to say, any remaining errors are mine and not his.

Appendix
The following table is used to calculate the number of occurrences of the various year
types using the Molad-Interval approach. Note that in some cases the same interval appears
more than once to reflect the fact that the year type may depend on whether the current
non-leap year follows a leap year (in which case B’TU’TaKPaT will kick in if the Molad is
in the B’TU’TakPaT interval) or if the current non-leap year is followed by a non-leap year
(in which case GaTRaD will kick in, if the following year Molad is in the GaTRaD interval).
As a result, some of the Year Types appear more than once in the table below, and the No.
of Occurrences would need to be added together to tie to Table 6 above (e.g., a2P shows up
twice so the total No. of Occurrences calculated using this approach is 78,684.0+ 2,651.0 =
81,335.0 which ties to Table 6 above). The corresponding range of Molad times in the next
year is also shown as it is needed in order to determine the day on which RH falls in the
following year. The first 11 rows are non-leap years and the last 7 rows are leap years.

A = No. of Occurrences = 689,472(B)(C/19)/181,440

Notes:
1. In 5 of the 12 non-leap years B’TU’TakPat doesn’t kick in, therefore leap-year factor is 5 (this
interval is in the B’TU’TakPat range).
2. In 7 of the 12 non-leap years B’TU’TakPat kicks in, therefore leap-year factor is 7.
3. In 7 of the 12 non-leap years, GaTRaD doesn’t kick-in in the following year (i.e., the following
year is a leap year)
4. In 5 of the 12 non-leap years, GaTRaD kicks-in in the following year (i.e., the following year isn’t
a leap year and its interval is in the GaTRaD range)
5. Next Year is always B’TU’TakPat (since current year is leap year and the next year is in B’TU’Tak-
PaT range)
6. Next Year is always GaTRaD when in the GaTRaD range (since the year following a leap year is
never a leap year)

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 CURRENT YEAR RANGE NEXT YEAR RANGE
C = LEAP RH
B = NO. OF
A = NO. OF YEAR RH THIS YEAR
NOTES CHALAKIM NEXT DAY HRS CH DAY HRS CH DAY HRS CH DAY HRS CH
OCCURRENCES SCALING YEAR TYPE
IN RANGE YEAR
FAC TOR

39,369.6 16,404 12 2 5 a2D 7 1 0 1 9 203 5 2 876 5 17 1079

78,684.0 32,785 12 2 7 a2P 1 2 204 2 15 588 5 18 0 7 0 384
1 2,651.0 2,651 5 2 7 a2P 2 2 589 2 17 1079 7 0 385 7 2 875
2 3,711.4 2,651 7 3 7 a3R 2 2 589 2 17 1079 7 0 385 7 2 875
39,369.6 16,404 12 3 7 a3R 2 3 0 3 9 203 7 2 876 7 17 1079
124,416.0 51,840 12 5 2 a5R 3 5 204 5 9 203 7 18 0 2 17 1079
22,838.4 9,516 12 5 3 a5P 5 5 204 5 17 1079 2 18 0 3 2 875
16,531.2 6,888 12 7 3 a7D 5 6 0 6 0 407 3 2 876 3 9 203

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Halakhah

3 13,322.4 9,516 7 7 3 a7D 6 6 408 6 9 203 3 9 204 3 17 1079

4 9,516.0 9,516 5 7 5 a7P 6 6 408 6 9 203 3 9 204 3 17 1079
85,046.4 35,436 12 7 5 a7P 6 7 204 7 17 1079 3 18 0 5 2 875
39,999.4 28,571 7 2 7 b2D 7 1 0 1 20 490 6 15 589 7 17 1079
32,576.6 23,269 7 2 2 b2P 1 2 491 2 17 1079 7 18 0 1 15 588
36,288.0 25,920 7 3 2 b3R 2 3 0 3 17 1079 1 15 589 2 15 588
5 26,677.0 19,055 7 5 3 b5D 3 4 0 4 11 694 2 15 589 3 9 203
6 45,899.0 32,785 7 5 5 b5P 4 5 695 5 17 1079 3 9 204 4 15 588
39,999.4 28,571 7 7 5 b7D 5 6 0 6 20 490 4 15 589 5 17 1079
32,576.6 23,269 7 7 7 b7P 6 7 491 7 17 1079 5 18 0 6 15 588
 Hakhmei Lev

Mishloach Manot and

the Canaanite Slave
dr. samuel silverberg

It stands to reason that many of you have spent sleepless nights pondering the following
question: Is there an obligation on Purim to send a gift of mishloach manot to a Canaanite
slave? This essay is meant to put an end to your insomnia by answering that question.
First and foremost, this essay requires a definition of a Canaanite slave. A Jew was
halachically forbidden to own a non-Jewish slave unless he or she voluntarily 1 agreed to
undergo a process of “conversion” to the status of a Canaanite slave. The process required
circumcision and immersion in a mikvah for the purpose of slavery.2 He was then obligated
to observe all the negative commandments in the Torah,3 including those of Shabbat, kashrut
and prayer,4 and was therefore privileged to experience the same day of rest as his Jewish
owner. You might bump into him davening in shul (although without a talis or tefillin), eating
in a kosher restaurant, or taking his new suit to a shatnez laboratory for testing. Jewish law
protected the Canaanite slave from physical abuse including murder,5 and the Canaanite
slave could claim his freedom if his Jewish master tried to remove him from the Land of
Israel6 or sell him to a non-Jew.7 Although the letter of the law allowed the Jewish slave
owner to inflict severe working conditions on his slave, the Shulchan Aruch strongly recom-
mends that the owner treat his slave respectfully and provide him with physical sustenance

1. Yoreh Deah 267:3–5.

2. If a convert declared during his immersion the he was immersing to convert to Judaism, he would become a
Jewish convert rather than a Canaanite slave (Yoreh Deah 267:9).
3. Chagigah 4a.
4. Rambam, the Laws of Prayer, 1:2.
5. Yoreh Deah 267:27, see also Rashi on Shemot 21:20.
6. Yoreh Deah 267:82.
7. Ibid 80.

SAMUEL SILVERBERG has practiced as a physician in Toronto for more than 50 years, and is a long-time
member if the BAYT synagogue. He has had the privilege of attending Torah classes and lectures at the
synagogue for more than thirty years. His early teachers have included many great Rabbis, including Rabbi
A.A. Price and Rabbi Gedaliah Felder.

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 Halakhah

and a humane work load.8 It is clear that “slavery” in the Jewish world was very different
from slavery in the non-Jewish world, and certainly different from the concept of slavery
in North America that was finally abolished in the nineteenth century. I will nevertheless
continue to use the term “slave” to refer to the Canaanite slave. The Gemara documents
that the rabbis of that era owned slaves, but the institution disappeared from the Jewish
community coincident with the Jewish exile more than 1500 years ago.9
Despite the strong adherence to Torah law by the Canaanite slave, there was a major
social gap between the Jewish community and the community of Canaanite slaves. The
Canaanite slave was subject to a less rigid standard of marriage than an ordinary Jew or
Jewess. Rabbi Meir in Gittin (13a) testifies that a Canaanite slave was satisfied with the lower
standard, which created concern among the rabbis that social mingling would negatively
influence the moral standards of the Jewish community.
In summary, the Canaanite slave could be labeled “half-Jewish,” and in fact automatically
became a fully converted Jew when freed by his owner. However, the rabbis were eager to
limit close social interaction between the Jewish and Canaanite slave communities.
The strong but strained relationship between master and slave prompted the Pri Megad-
im,10 to assert that a Canaanite slave is included in the obligation of sending gifts (mishloach
manot) to one’s “friends” on Purim (Eshel Avraham, 695–11). His reasoning was simple. The
Megillah frames the Purim obligation as “‫ – ”משלוח מנות איש לרעהו‬the sending of gifts from
one man to “his friend.” In the Gemara Baba Kammah (68a), the Rabbis refer to the Canaanite
slave inclusively, as our “brother in the performance of mitzvot” – what greater friend can
a Jew have?
The Beit Yitzchak11 takes the opposite viewpoint, that a Canaanite slave is not subject to the
gift-giving of Purim12 for the social reasons mentioned above. He suggests that gift giving
on Purim was instituted to implant the characteristics of unity and love within the Nation
of Israel. The concept of “love your friend” would therefore not apply to a Canaanite slave,
who has the liberty to function at a lower standard of marital morality.
Rabbi A.A. Price13 zt”l takes issue with the reasoning of Rabbi Yitzchak Shmelkes zt”l, posing
the following question: is there any evidence that disunity existed among the Jewish people
in the Purim era that would necessitate a decree to repair divisions within Jewish society?
Rabbi Price offers his own rationale for the mitzvah of sending gifts to friends on Purim,
starting with an examination of trust within the Jewish community on religious matters.

8. Ibid 17.
9. A Canaanite slave was declared free if his master removed him from Israel.
10. Rabbi Joseph ben Meir zt”l (1727–1792), a super commentator on the Shulchan Aruch.
11. Rabbi Yitzchak Shmelkes zt”l (1828–1905).
12. Beit Yitzchak, Yoreh De’ah 144–4.
13. Rabbi A.A. Price zt”l (1900–1994) established the first public yeshivah in Toronto in the 1930s. He is the author
of eleven sefarim, most recently his fourth volume of commentary on the Smag, from which this essay was
adapted. The author had the privilege of studying with Rabbi Price in the 1960s. This essay was adapted from
the Mishnat Avraham, Rabbi Price’s recently published 4th volume of commentary on the Smag, page 172.

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The Torah judicial system is based on the pillar of the credibility of two witnesses testify-
ing to the same event. Except for some unusual circumstances, one witness is discouraged
from testifying in court because his sole testimony has no legal weight. However, in the
matter of prohibitions, we digress from that rule and rely almost entirely on the credibility
of one witness. A mashgiach in a restaurant or butcher shop is the sole determinant of the
authenticity of the kashrut in that establishment. Sitting down to eat a meal in a neigh-
bour’s home requires reliance on the assurance of the host that the food is kosher. Rashi
in Yevamot (88a) provides a practical source for this reliance on one witness in matters of
kashrut: if not for that allowance, how could one eat in one’s own home, let alone in the
home of others? Sitting down to the dinner table at home requires trust in the testimony
of a spouse or parent that the food is kosher. Rashi is arguing that the social fabric of the
Jewish community depends on the reliance on one witness for kashrut, and anything else
would be an anathema to a practical Torah way of life. Rashi actually turns the question
around: the question is not how can we rely on one witness in these matters, but how can
we not do so?14
Kashrut was a major factor in the story of Purim. As related in the Gemara Megillah (12a),
the Jewish people were placed in mortal danger at the hands of Haman because they partici-
pated in the feast of Achashverosh. Their attendance was universal and there was not a
hint of kashrut in the food served. Now imagine that the head of the COR, your shul Rabbi,
your shul Assistant Rabbi, your spouse and the gentleman who sits six feet away from you
at minyan every morning were all seen participating in a non-kosher celebratory feast. You
would be unable to trust anyone in matters of kashrut, not the mashgiach in a butcher shop
nor your neighbour for a Shabbat meal. Rabbi Price contends that this state of affairs led
to a complete disintegration of the system of community kashrut in Shushan, leading up to
the wicked decree of Haman and Achashverosh.
Rabbi Price therefore reasons that the purpose of Esther’s call for three days of prayer
and fasting was to mobilise the Jewish people to repent and beg forgiveness for the sin
that caused the whole mess in the first place – the violation of the laws of kashrut. And so
it was, that after the Jewish people sincerely repented from their kashrut violation, Haman
and his family were destroyed and the Jewish community once more achieved individual
reliability in the matter of kashrut. Rabbi Price concludes that Esther and Mordechai decreed
that a measure of meat should be included in mishloach manot on Purim (Megillah 7a) as a
proclamation of a renewed trust in community kashrut.
On the basis of the above analysis, Rabbi Price zt”l provides his own solution to the question
of the Pri Megadim and Beit Yitzchak. The Shulchan Aruch15 rules that a Cananite slave has the
same reliability as any other Jew to serve as a shochet, which means that he has credibility
as a single witness for kashrut. Given his inclusion as a trustworthy observer in the kashrut

14. For a more detailed discussion of this issue, please refer to the original article in Mishnat Avraham cited above.
15. Yoreh De’ah 1–1.

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 Halakhah

domain, there is no question that the Canaanite slave should be a full participant in the
mitzvah of gift giving on Purim.
Aside from imposing a burden on the sisterhood to lengthen its mishloach manot list, the
above discussion of the social status of the Canaanite slave raises a question in the wider
sphere. Should inclusion in Jewish society be based on social mores or the common obli-
gation to perform mitzvot?

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 Hakhmei Lev

Is Law a Good Profession

for the Orthodox Jew?
Part 2
charles wagner, ll.b

Part one can be found in Hakhmei Lev, Volume 1, Tishrei 5782, 127–141.

The Orthodox Jewish Lawyer’s Dilemma

For most litigators the client’s choice to proceed to a regular court is the end of the
discussion. The Rules of Professional Conduct do not require lawyers to educate clients about
their obligations as Orthodox Jews to comply with Jewish law. For Orthodox Jewish lawyers
it raises a moral quandary: Is there a halachic obligation for the Orthodox Jewish lawyer to
turn down this type of file? Explains Professor Steven H. Resnicoff,1 if an attorney represents
a client who sues in civil court:

The client may be deemed to be in the process of his transgression from the beginning of the trial
to its end, or to the collection of the money. There would be a great risk that the lawyer would
wrongfully provide verbal encouragement to his client during this time.2 He further explains, “The
Torah commands that, “in front of the blind (lifnei iver), do not place a stumbling block.” Among
other things, the lifnei iver doctrine proscribes enabling people to violate Jewish law.

1. Steven Resnicoff is both a Rabbi and a Professor of Law. He is the Co-director of Center for Jewish Law and
Judaic Studies at De Paul University College of Law.
2. We refer the reader to Steven H. Resnicoff, “The Attorney-Client Relationship: A Jewish Law Perspective,” 14
Notre Dame J.L. Ethics & Pub. Policy 349 (2000).

CHARLES B. WAGNER is designated as a Certified Specialist in Estates and Trusts Law by the Law Society of
Upper Canada and a Trust and Estate Practitioner by STEP Canada. He is a partner at Wagner Sidlofsky LLP,
which is a boutique law firm located in Toronto focusing on commercial and estate litigation.

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 Halakhah

There are very few instances when a lawyer may not turn down a retainer.3 Rule 3.01 of the
Rules of Professional Conduct of the Law Society of Ontario provides:

The lawyer has a general right to decline a particular representation (except when assigned as
counsel by a tribunal), but it is a right to be exercised prudently, particularly if the probable result
would be to make it difficult for a person to obtain legal advice or representation.

For the lawyer who feels torn between his/her personal religious beliefs and the obligation
to his client there is a conflict. The commentary of the Rules of Professional Conduct defines
a conflict of interest as arising “when there is a substantial risk that a lawyer’s loyalty to or
representation of a client would be materially and adversely affected by the lawyer’s own
interest.” If the client decides to litigate in civil court and the lawyer’s fulfillment of that
task is compromised by the lawyer’s religious belief then that lawyer needs to consider
whether to take on the file.
No matter what the faith of the lawyer or the religion of the client any lawyer has a fidu-
ciary duty to provide the client with proper and full advice. This includes informing clients
on how to best advance their case through the litigation process. If that advice is contrary
to Halachah and the lawyer feels conflicted, then he or she should not take on the retainer.

Circumstances Where The Court Will Intervene To

Set Aside A Decision Of A Rabbinical Court
When advising a client on the legal advantages and/or disadvantages of litigating before a Beis
Din it behooves the litigator to review the case law on how the courts view those decisions
and their vulnerability to judicial review. Frequently, arbitration agreements signed by the
parties appearing before the Beis Din will have a provision denying the parties the right to
appeal the decision to a civil court. However, it is important to note that the inclusion of
such a provision does not necessarily preclude a civil court from commencing a judicial
review of the Beis Din decision.

(i) Appeal of an Arbitration Decision

In anticipation of the fact that many parties who agree to arbitration do so to avoid litigating
in a civil court, section 3 of the Arbitration Act allows parties to vary or exclude most of the
provisions of the Arbitration Act with limited exceptions.4 While the agreement to forego

3. See paragraph 61 of Hall v. Bennet Estate 2003 CarswellOnt 1730 wherein the context of accepting a retainer
to make a will the Ontario Court of Appeal states, “I find it important to note, if only for guidance in future
cases that, in my view, it is at least questionable whether Frederick, regardless of his opinion on Bennett’s
capacity, could be found to be under any legal obligation to accept the retainer to prepare Bennett’s will. If,
for example, the facts had been otherwise and Frederick had been of the view that Bennett was able to make
a will but nonetheless declined the retainer, the exigent circumstances would undoubtedly give rise to a ser-
ious question of professional conduct and, depending on all the circumstances, could form the basis of disci-
plinary proceedings….”
4. Arbitration Act, 1991, SO 1991, c 17 at s. 3.

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 Hakhmei Lev

a right to appeal can limit a civil court’s ability to interfere in an arbitration decision, the
agreement of the parties to a “final and binding decision” in the arbitration does not abso-
lutely preclude a civil court from ruling on an arbitration decision.
For example, section 45 of the Arbitration Act allows a party to appeal the decision of an
arbitrator if the arbitration agreement does not deal with appeals on questions of law. The
court shall grant an appeal on a question of law if the following two criteria are satisfied: first,
the importance to the parties of the matters at stake in the arbitration justifies an appeal
and second, determination of the question of law at issue will significantly affect the rights
of the parties. Section 45 of the Arbitration Act also allows a party to appeal an arbitration
agreement on questions of fact or mixed fact and law, if the arbitration agreement provides
for an appeal on this basis.5 Where a court finds that a right of appeal is permitted for an
arbitration decision, the court can provide a party with the following remedies: the court
may confirm, vary or set aside the award or may remit the award to the arbitral tribunal with
the court’s opinion on the question of law, in the case of an appeal on a question of law, and
give directions about the conduct of the arbitration.6 It is important to consider section 45 of
the Arbitration Act when reviewing the terms of an arbitration agreement before a Beis Din.
In the appeal of an arbitration decision, a court is entitled to regard the arbitrator’s deci-
sion with a certain amount of deference. The appropriate degree of deference with which a
court will consider an arbitration decision is called the standard of review. When considering
the circumstances in which an appeal of an arbitration decision should be permitted, the
Superior Court of Justice has held that “a court should not interfere with the arbitrator’s
award unless it is satisfied that the arbitrator acted on the basis of a wrong principle,
disregarded material evidence or misapprehended the evidence.”7 O.J. No. 3299 at para. 5.]

(ii) Judicial Review

The strongest mechanism for challenging an arbitration decision is through judicial review
of a procedural issue that arose either at the time that the arbitration agreement was
executed or during the arbitration as outlined in section 46 of the Arbitration Act. Signifi-
cantly, section 46 is one of the few provisions of the Act that the parties cannot contract
out of in their arbitration agreement.8 Section 46(1) provides that a court may set aside an
arbitration award on any of the following grounds:
a. A party entered into the arbitration agreement while under a legal incapacity
A court will not enforce an arbitration agreement where one of the parties was legally
incapable at the time of execution. A party would be considered incapable if they were a

5. Ibid., at s.45(3).
6. Ibid., s. 4(5).
7. Robinson v. Robinson, 2000.
8. Arbitration Act, 1991, SO 1991, c 17 at s. 3.

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 Halakhah

minor or impaired by a disability or cognitive disease that rendered the party incapable of
making legally binding decisions.9
b. The arbitration agreement is invalid or has ceased to exist
An arbitration agreement may be invalidated if the time frame set out in the agreement
has passed or if a particular procedural guarantee provided for in the agreement was not
satisfied by the Beis Din. In addition, academics have suggested that this section could be
used to set aside arbitration awards that are unconscionable or void for public policy.10
The following sections address challenges to an arbitration decision based on the procedural
compliance of the Beis Din to the terms outlined in the arbitration agreement:
c. The award deals with a dispute that the arbitration agreement does not cover or contains
a decision on a matter that is beyond the scope of the agreement
d. The composition of the arbitral tribunal was not in accordance with the arbitration
agreement or, if the agreement did not deal with that matter, was not in accordance
with this Act
The arbitration agreement can establish limits for the issues before the Beis Din and specify
the composition of the Beis Din determining the agreed upon issues. If a Beis Din decision
includes the determination of issues outside the parameters established in the arbitration
agreement, it can be challenged for exceeding the terms that the parties agreed to. However,
lawyers representing parties in negotiations of the an arbitration agreement should note
that a civil court will be prevented from intervening on this basis where a party has agreed
to resolve a dispute or matter, waived the right to object to its inclusion or agreed that the
Beis Din has the power to decide what disputes have been referred to it.11
A decision of the Beis Din is also open to interference from a civil court if it can be shown
that the procedural guarantee that ensures that the manner in which the arbitration
is conducted is consistent with the intent of the parties (as expressed in the arbitration
agreement).
e. The subject-matter of the dispute is not capable of being the subject of arbitration under
Ontario law
An arbitration agreement can be set aside where it is outside of the jurisdiction of Ontario
law. For example, an arbitration agreement for the determination of an issue before a Beis
Din that purports to bind a third party would not be enforceable on this basis.12

9. Natasha Bakht, “Family Arbitration Using Sharia Law: Examining Ontario’s Arbitration Act and its Impact on
Women,” Muslim World Journal of Human Rights (2004) 1(1) at p. 14.
10. Ibid, at p. 15.
11. Arbitration Act, 1991, SO 1991, c 17 at s. 46(3).
12. Natasha Bakht, “Family Arbitration Using Sharia Law: Examining Ontario’s Arbitration Act and its Impact on
Women,” Muslim World Journal of Human Rights (2004) 1(1) at p. 15.

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 Hakhmei Lev

The following sections would allow a civil court to intervene in the decision of a Beis Din
where the arbitration procedure was unfair to one of the parties or otherwise in violation
of the Arbitration Act:
f. The applicant was not treated equally and fairly, was not given an opportunity to present
a case or to respond to another party’s case, or was not given proper notice of the arbi-
tration or of the appointment of an arbitrator
g. The procedures followed in the arbitration did not comply with this Act
h. An arbitrator has committed a corrupt or fraudulent act or there is a reasonable appre-
hension of bias
i. The award was obtained by fraud
The case law suggests that parties challenging a decision of the Beis Din will often do so
by alleging that the arbitration was unfair or that they were pressured into submitting to
arbitration by the threat of receiving a siruv.13

(iii) Recent Case Where an Arbitration Decision Was

Challenged in Civil Court: Popack v. Lipszyc
In a recent case from the Ontario Court of Appeal, an award granted by a Jewish court in
New York to a Canadian businessman was upheld despite a proven breach of the arbitration
agreement between the parties.14
The parties were Moshe Lipszyc (“Lipszyc”) and his former business partner, Joseph Popack
(“Popack”). In 2000, Lipszyc and Popack embarked on a partnership to acquire commercial
properties. Popack is from New York and Lipszyc is from Ontario. As part of their business
partnership, Lipszyc and Popack acquired two shopping centers. Over time the relationship
between the parties deteriorated.
In late 2005, the parties agreed to have Rabbi Schwei and Rabbi Bagomilski of the Crown
Heights Beis Din arbitrate the dispute between them and assist them in winding up their
business relationship. In January 2006, Rabbis Schwei and Bagomilski made an order that to
resolve the conflict between Lipszyc and Popack, one of the parties should sell his interest to
the other (the “January 2006 Order”). Following the January 2006 Order, the parties entered
into an agreement dated April 11, 2006, whereby Lipszyc agreed to sell his interest to Popack.
Subsequently, Popack discovered what he believed to be misrepresentations and fraud
by Lipszyc. He raised his concerns with the Crown Heights Beis Din on July 25, 2006. Rabbi
Schwei responded by directing the parties to transfer their matter to another rabbinical
court, the Beis Din of Mechon L’Hoyroa (the “Rabbinical Court”), which held eight weeks of
hearings on the matter in August 2013.

13. See Appendix II for an overview of recent cases.

14. Popack v. Lipszyc, 2016 ONCA 135 (CanLII).

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The Arbitration Agreement between the parties gave the Rabbinical Court wide deci-
sion-making and procedural flexibility. The terms of the Arbitration Agreement included
the following:
i. that the arbitrators “may make their award based on Din Torah, compromise, settle-
ment, or any other way they wish to reach a decision”;
ii. that “no transcript of the proceeding need be made” unless the arbitrators decided to
arrange for one (which did not occur);
iii. that the Rabbinical Court could “follow any procedure as they decide”;
iv. that the parties waived “formal notice of the time and place of the arbitration proceeding”;
v. that the Rabbinical Court had “the right to hear testimony and evidence without the
presence of a party if the party doesn’t attend a scheduled hearing”;
vi. that the Rabbinical Court did not need to explain to anyone the reasons for their decision;
vii. that the decision of the Rabbinical Court was not open for appeal either in any religious
court or any civil court; and,
viii. that in certain circumstances the arbitrators had jurisdiction regarding disputes after
the award including motions due to “judicial error, new evidence, etc., … to the extent
permitted by law.”15
During the hearings, Lipszyc’s representative suggested the panel should hear from Rabbi
Schwei. Popack did not object. Neither the parties nor the Rabbinical Court discussed further
the possibility of Rabbi Schwei giving evidence.
On July 8, 2013, the Rabbinical Court met with Rabbi Schwei. There was no record of the
meeting. Neither Popack nor Lipszyc received notice of the meeting between the Rabbinical
Court and Rabbi Schwei. Ultimately, the Rabbinical Court made an award of $400,000.00
in favour of Lipszyc. In response to the decision of the Rabbinical Court, Popack turned to
Ontario Superior Court to set aside the award on the grounds that the panel had breached
the agreed procedure by meeting secretly with Rabbi Schwei.
In the trial decision, Justice Matheson agreed with Popack that the Rabbinical Court had
committed a “significant” breach of the arbitration agreement by failing to give proper notice
of the meeting with Rabbi Schwei.16 Nevertheless, Justice Matheson upheld the award on the
basis that the parties had agreed to defer to the Rabbinical Court’s discretion to set its own
process, Rabbi Schwei was a neutral party and the fact that Popack had not objected to the
Rabbinical Court meeting with Rabbi Schwei when Lipszyc initially raised the possibility.
The Court of Appeal found that it owed strong deference to Justice Matheson’s conclusions
absent any glaring error and ultimately upheld the trial decision. The Court of Appeal also
took into consideration Popack’s conduct, as Popack had made no formal complaint at the
time about the Rabbinical Court’s meeting and did not exercise his right to a hearing to
raise his concerns. Instead, Popack told the panel, without telling Lipszyc, that he would

15. Ibid at para. 13.

16. Ibid at para. 73.

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only want a hearing if the panel decided Rabbi Schwei’s evidence was important. In this
way, the Court held that Popack positioned himself so that he could decide to raise the
issue formally and on notice to Mr. Lipszyc only if he was not satisfied with the award by
the rabbinical court. For these reasons the Court of Appeal held as follows:

His [Popack’s] conduct strongly suggests a tactical decision whereby Mr. Popack was content
to allow the panel to finish its adjudication and make its award despite the improper ex parte
meeting with Rabbi Schwei.17

In these circumstances, the Court held that setting aside the panel’s decision would “evis-
cerate” the idea that arbitral decisions are generally final. The Court also awarded Lipszyc
$25,000.00 in costs.
One important lesson from this case is the risk of giving a Beis Din unfettered discretion
with respect to the procedure that the rabbinical court will follow. To mitigate this risk, it
is critical for the participants to craft a written agreement that sets out how the procedure
that the Beis Din will follow. This case also highlights the need for proper record keeping.
In this case, the parties had agreed that no record of the proceedings would be kept. This
choice complicated matter for Popack after he decided to appeal the rabbinical court’s
decision, as he lacked any record of evidence for many of the problems with the procedure
that he hoped to substantiate on appeal.

Conclusion
An Orthodox Jewish client who by virtue of his/her fidelity to Halachah feels bound to deal
with the Beis Din poses a difficulty for the litigator. On the one hand it is necessary to deal
with the real economic and social threat to the client for failure to adjudicate their dispute
before a Jewish court. On the other hand your client’s adversary may not feel bound by
the same rules and your client’s economic interest may be at risk. Even if the other party
wants to appear before the Beis Din your client may fare better before a civil court than he/
she may fare before the Beis Din. The answer is to know your client, familiarize yourself
with his/her needs and understand the halachic process. The lawyer must therefore ask:
1. Does Jewish law require this type of litigation to be before a Jewish Court?
2. Does Jewish law permit an interim step before the civil court in order to protect your
client’s interest?
3. Is there a way, within the Halachic framework, to secure the most advantageous forum
for the client?
Understanding how your clients can conduct themselves within the Halachic framework
will avoid the sanctions of their community and can still allow them to have their case
adjudicated in a forum that best protects their interests.

17. Ibid at para. 39.

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Appendix I: The Roots Of The Halachic Tradition

(a) The Basis for Religious Jewish Law

The development of Orthodox Jewish law is explained by Maimonides (also known as
Rambam)18 in the introduction to his seminal text, the Mishneh Torah.19 The Mishneh Torah
is a code of Jewish religious law (Halachah) that contains a compilation of the entire Oral
Law from the time of Moses until the completion of the Talmud.20 In the Mishneh Torah,
Maimonides explains that the written Jewish religious law (the five books of Moses) was
given to Moses at Mount Sinai along with an oral tradition explaining the laws contained
therein. According to Maimonides:

“The Torah” refers to the written law and “the mitzvah,” to its explanation. [G-d] commanded
us to fulfill “the Torah” according to [the instructions of] “the mitzvah.” “The mitzvah” is called
the Oral Law.21

While each of the Israelite tribes was given a Torah scroll (also referred to as “the mitzvah”),
the explanation of the Torah was passed from the elders to Joshua who taught the Oral Law
to the Jewish people.22 Maimonides bases this tradition on the tractate of Pirkei Avot23 which
provides that Moses received the Torah from Sinai and gave it over to Joshua. Joshua gave
it over to the Elders, the Elders to the Prophets, and the Prophets gave it over to the Men
of the Great Assembly. The oral tradition was passed down through generations of rabbis
and Jewish courts until it reached Rabbi Yehuda24 who Maimonides describes as Rabbenu
Hakadosh (“our saintly teacher”). Rabbenu Hakadosh composed the Mishnah and put it
down in writing. He collected all of the intergenerational teachings, laws, and commentaries

18. Maimonides was a preeminent medieval Sephardic Jewish philosopher and became one of the most prolific
and influential Torah scholars of the Middle Ages.
19. Within a century of Maimonides’ death, the Mishneh Torah was universally accepted as a major halachic
work (Mishneh Torah, translation by Rabbi Eliyahu Touger, (New York: Moznaim Publishing Corporation,
1989) (Mishneh Torah) at 7.
20. Ibid., p. 7. In his introduction to his English translation of the Mishneh Torah Rabbi Eliyahu Touger explains,
in part, “…with its publication, the Mishneh Torah touched off a major controversy in the Rabbinic world.
Some of the philosophic points included with Sefer Mada (“the Book of Knowledge”) found opposition among
the Rabbis. In addition, the Rambam’s style of stating a law without quoting his sources was hard to accept
by many. In some communities, the books were even burned. Within a little more than a century after the
Rambam’s death, however, the Mishneh Torah had been universally accepted as a major halachic work. Subse-
quent codifications of Torah law – e.g., the Tur and the Shulchan Aruch – refer to it extensively…” The Mishneh
Torah is available online: www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/5634/jewish/Mishneh-Torah-Hebrew.htm
and with Rabbi Touger’s translation online: www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/901656/jewish/Introduc-
tion-to-Mishneh-Torah.htm.
21. Ibid., p.12.
22. Ibid., p. 13.
23. The Mishneh Torah contains 63 tractates dealing Jewish law. One of the tractates addresses Jewish ethics.
This tractate is called Avot—literally translated as “Fathers.”
24. Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi was also referred to as “Rebbi” or teacher. For a brief biography of him we refer the
reader to the Jewish Virtual Library, online: www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/biography/hanasi.html.

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so that the Oral Law would not be forgotten by the Jewish people. Maimonides explained
that this was a necessary break from tradition to curb the influence of the Roman Empire.
With the Jewish Temple destroyed and its institutions decimated Rabbi Yehudah’s efforts
standout as a singular monumental landmark in preserving the Jewish faith, its history and
Jewish law. The rabbis during the time of the Mishnah are referred to as Tannaim. Those
that followed and created the Talmud are referred to as Amorim. Explains Maimonides:

From the entire [body of knowledge stemming from] the…Talmud can be derived the forbidden and
the permitted, the impure and the pure, the liable and those who are free of liability, the invalid
and the valid as was received [in tradition], one person from another, [in a chain extending back]
to Moses at Mount Sinai…It also includes marvelous judgments and laws which were not received
from Moses, but rather were derived by the courts of the [later] generations based on the princi-
ples of Biblical exegesis. The elders of those generations made these decisions and concluded that
this was the law. Maimonides goes on to explain that after the time the Talmud was completed
Jewish communities set up courts in every country inhabited by Jews…These courts issued decrees,
enacted ordinances, and established customs for the people of that country – or those of several
countries. These practices, however, were not accepted throughout the Jewish people, because of
the distance between [their different] settlements and the disruption of communication [between
them]…The [Talmudic] Sages who established ordinances and decrees, put customs into practice,
arrived at legal decisions, and taught [the people] concerning certain judgments represented the
totality of the Sages of Israel or, at least, the majority of them. They received the tradition regard-
ing the fundamental aspects of the Torah in its entirety, generation after generation, [in a chain
beginning with] Moses, our teacher. All the Sages who arose after the conclusion of the Talmud
…taught the approach of the Talmud, revealing its hidden secrets and explaining its points, since
[the Talmud’s] manner of expression is very deep…The inhabitants of each city would ask many
questions of each Gaon who lived in their age, to explain the difficult matters that existed in the
Talmud. They would reply to them according to their wisdom.

In A Handbook of Jewish Thought, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan provides an understanding of the

evolution of Jewish religious law.25 Rabbi Kaplan explains that in 1038 CE the rabbis of those
times (referred to as Genoim) established great centres of learning called academies. These
were located in the cities of Sura and Pumbetitha in Babylonia. They were founded in the
times of the Talmud and were accepted as preeminent authorities of Jewish law.
With the closing of these academies there was a gap. There no longer existed a universally
recognized Jewish legal authority to determine issues of legal importance for the religious
Jewish communities. In response, certain Jewish rabbis broke with tradition much the
same way as did Rabbi Yehudah haNasi when he wrote the Mishnah by preparing codes
of Jewish law based on the Talmud and the decisions of the Geonim. The halachic codes of
Jewish law by Rabbi Yitzchak Lafasim, Rabbi Asher ben Yechiel and Maimonides were

25. Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, Handbook of Jewish Thought, Volume II at chapter 12, (New York: Moznaim Publishing
Corporation, 1979).

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 Halakhah

the result.26 These rabbis lived from 1038–1328 CE and are known as the Rishomim or first
codifiers. In 1525 CE, based on these previous works, Rabbi Yosef Caro wrote the Shulchan
Arukh which was the most widely accepted code of Jewish law. The question arises: why
did these rabbis break with tradition?

(b) The Decision of Rabbi Yitzcak Lafasim, Rabbi Asher ben

Yechiel and Maimonides to Break With Tradition
The rationale for Rabbi Yitzcak Lafasim, Rabbi Asher ben Yeshiel and Maimonides’ decision
to break with tradition is explained by Maimonides as follows:

At this time, we have been beset by additional difficulties, everyone feels [financial] pressure, the
wisdom of our Sages has become lost, and the comprehension of our men of understanding has
become hidden. Therefore, those explanations, laws, and replies which the Geonim composed
and considered to be fully explained material have become difficult to grasp in our age, and only
a select few comprehend these matters in the proper way. Needless to say, [there is confusion]
with regard to the Talmud…for they require a breadth of knowledge, a spirit of wisdom, and much
time, for appreciating the proper path regarding what is permitted and forbidden, and the other
laws of the Torah.” It is for that reason that Maimonides composed the Mishneh Torah which he
saw as a summary…” In clear and concise terms, so that the entire Oral Law could be organized
in each person’s mouth without questions or objections.27

The rabbis that followed the Rishonim are called Acharonim. These rabbis were later codi-
fiers who for the most part did not part from the decision of the Rishonim.
So how are religious decisions made today?
There are many great religious Jewish legal authorities in the 20th and 21st centuries who
are asked questions and issue a ruling referred to as a “psak.” For example, The Responsa by
Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, Rabbi Soleveichik, Rav Kanievsky, Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerback, Rav
Ovadia Yoseph are often published. Local rabbis often rely on these publications to respond
to their congregants’ questions. So with that background, let’s discuss what religious Jewish
law says about litigating in civil court.

Appendix II: Examples Of Cases Where Orthodox

Jews Have Decided To Litigate In Civil Courts

(a) Perceived Bias

In Berg v. Schochet, Rabbi Berg initiated a lawsuit in civil court claiming that Rabbi Schochet
defamed him. 28 Rabbi Schochet commenced a motion seeking to stay the claim on the
grounds that the dispute should be adjudicated through a religious court as they were both

26. Ibid., at p. 121.

27. Mishneh Torah at p. 30–31.
28. Berg v. Schochet, 1995 CarswellOnt 4655, (1995) O.J. No. 2983, 58 A.C.W.S. (3d) 26, 6 W.D.C.P. (2d) 436.

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orthodox Jews. For the purposes of this paper, the authors are only addressing the reasons
given by Rabbi Berg for not going through the Beis Din process. The court explained Rabbi
Berg’s reasoning as follows:

To this Rabbi Berg replies that the faith he and Rabbi Schochet share, does not require this dispute
to be heard by an ecclesiastical tribunal, and, further, that it would be impossible for him to have a
fair hearing before any such tribunal, because of the wide-spread bias against him among Orthodox
Rabbis. In fact, the association to which I have referred, and which is properly called the “Vaad
Harabonim of Toronto” has issued a summons to the plaintiff to which he has refused to respond. 29

For the purposes of this article and trying to understand why Orthodox Jews sometimes
litigate in civil court it’s impossible to read Rabbi Berg’s mind and determine if the reasons
he provided to the court were bona fide. Clearly, as set out in this article Orthodox Jewish
doctrine generally requires Jews not to resort to the civil court system to adjudicate their
disputes. If he perceived bias in the local Beis Din why then did he not exercise the right of
a toveah to go to an alternate Beis Din or offer the option of zabla? It may be that Rabbi Berg
felt that any Beis Din would be unfair because the Orthodox community as a whole shared
Rabbi Schochet’s view of Rabbi Berg’s conduct. For example, the Canadian Jewish News of
March 18, 1993 wrote an expose about Rabbi Berg and the Kabbalah Centre. He was accused
of defrauding victims of money and promising cures for cancer if they paid him money
and scanned Aramaic texts. It may be true that most of the community would have been
predisposed against Rabbi Berg. For the litigator who represents a client like Rabbi Schochet
it is important to understand the adverse party’s motivation. If these parties had gone before
a Beis Din and Rabbi Berg could have proved bias this would have been automatic grounds
for judicial review of the decision pursuant to section 46 of the Arbitration Act.

(b) Perception of Coercion

In one divorce case,30 the wife commenced civil divorce proceedings. The couple were two
Orthodox Jews and agreed to appear before Toronto’s Beis Din. The wife obtained her “get”31
which is a Jewish divorce. As part of their appearance before the Jewish court the parties
entered into an arbitration agreement. Between 2006 and 2009, the Beis Din decided issues
relating to property, custody and access.
Notwithstanding the agreement not to appeal the Beis Din awards the husband went
to civil court and applied for divorce and custody, etc. This case deals with a number of
interesting questions relating to the enforceability of arbitration decisions, family law and
retrospective application of statutes.32 But, for our purposes let’s focus on two questions.

29. Ibid., at paras. 4 and 5.

30. 2010 ONSC 1389, 2010 CarswellOnt 3367.
31. The Jewish Virtual Library explains that a Get is “the Hebrew word for divorce document. Since a Jewish
marriage is entered into by the issuance of a legal contract between husband and wife, it can be terminated
only by the issuance of a legal writ nullifying the original contract…”
32. See footnote 34.

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First – why would the Orthodox Jewish husband resort to the civil court process as opposed
to the Beis Din in accordance with his Halachic obligation? As well, why did he seek to set
aside the Beis Din decision?
We might presume that the reasons he chose to proceed to civil court are rooted in the
following complaints listed by Justice Gilmore and outlined in the husband’s allegations
about why he felt the Beis Din treated him unfairly:
a. the husband was not permitted to have legal representation;
b. the husband was not permitted to call witnesses;
c. the husband was not permitted to appeal the decisions made by the rabbinical court; and
d. the rabbinical court lacked basic and necessary elements of the judicial process and the
basic concepts of fairness.
Before presuming that these were the real reasons for the husband’s attempts to set aside
the Beis Din decision and proceed to civil court it is important to note that Justice Gilmore
did not find his evidence credible. We must make room for the possibility that there were
others reasons motivating the appeal.
If we presume that as an Orthodox Jew the husband was familiar with the Beis Din
and its operations why did he agree to submit to its jurisdiction in the first place? Justice
Gilmore explained that the husband alleged that he was coerced into signing the arbitra-
tion agreement by the threat of a communal excommunication with financial and social
consequences. According to the husband, his resistance to deal with the Beis Din resulted
in the termination of his job as a teacher in The Toronto Chider, a Jewish school central
to his religious community. As a convert to Judaism, the husband also claimed that his
“Jewishness” was attacked by the wife within the Beis Din process. If taken at face value,
the coercive nature of the Beis Din explains why the husband submitted to its jurisdiction.
Leaving aside that the wife’s narrative was quite different and that the judge seemed not to
accept the husband’s evidence, the husband’s allegations do not make sense. The difficulty
with taking the husband’s position at face value is that the threat of community sanction
was no less prevalent when he sought to set the Beis Din decision aside.
It is not inconceivable that the allegations made by the husband were tailored to fall
within the four corners of section 6 of the Arbitration Act, which permits the court to inter-
vene to assist with the conduct of arbitrations, to ensure that arbitrations are conducted
in accordance with arbitration agreements, to prevent unequal or unfair treatment of
parties to arbitration agreements and to enforce awards. Even if the allegations made by
the husband were untrue, reviewing them is a useful exercise because, arguably, they were
culled from complaints made by others with the process.

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 Hakhmei Lev

(c) To determine whether an informal decision of a governing

religious body is binding and can be relied upon by the parties
In 2004357 Ontario Ltd. v. Kashruth Council of Canada,33 an individual applicant brought an appli-
cation to enforce what he believed was an arbitration award made by the Rabbinical Vaad
HaKashruth concerning the kosher certification granted to his company, 2004357 Ontario
Inc. This case demonstrates the confusion that can arise from informal determinations
by a religious governing body. It is also illustrative of a scenario in which a party may be
required to use civil court to determine whether a decision from a religious governing body
constitutes an enforceable arbitration award that can be relied upon by the party.
In 1999, the parties executed a kosher certification agreement which certified 2004357
Ontario Inc. as a kosher restaurant subject to a listed set of conditions. On November 17,
2005, two representatives of the Kashruth Council of Canada (the “Kashruth Council”)
inspected the premises and determined that there may have been a serious breach of the
laws of kashrut. Consequentially, the representatives instructed the owner of 2004357
Ontario Inc. to close the restaurant and reported their concerns to the Kashruth Council.34
On November 22, 2005, the Kashruth Council determined that the 2004357 Ontario Inc.’s
kosher certification was cancelled, and that 2004357 Ontario Inc. would be required to
reapply for certification. A week later, the Kashruth Council sent 2004357 Ontario Inc. a
document outlining the requirements that would need to be met for the recertification of
the restaurant (the “Decision”). At the hearing of the application, the applicant argued that
the Decision constituted an arbitration award that entitled 2004357 Ontario Inc. to a kosher
certification as long as certain conditions were satisfied. 35 The Court disagreed with the
applicant and held that the Decision did not constitute an enforceable arbitration award
as the Rabbinical Vaad HaKashruth had yet to convene the tribunal for the purposes of deter-
mining the dispute. Justice Perell, in his endorsement, does not indicate that the applicant
wished to act outside the parameters of halachah by choosing the civil court system over
the religious court system. He did, however, say the following about the applicant’s efforts
to characterize an all-party meeting as an arbitration,

Despite the impressive intellectual gymnastics of Mr. Gafny’s counsel during argument, it cannot
be said that the meeting on November 18, 2005, was an arbitration. Neither in its formalities
before, at, or after the meeting nor in its substance was the meeting an arbitration. Based on the
objective criteria established by the case law, the meeting was not arbitration.

From what the endorsement indicates, one might conclude that the applicant just made
a mistake in believing that there was already an arbitration that took place and that he
was acting appropriately by trying to enforce that decision in civil court. Any alternative

33. 2004357 Ontario Ltd. v. Kashruth Council of Canada, 2006 CarswellOnt 3551.
34. Ibid., at para. 22.
35. Ibid., at para. 39.

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 Halakhah

conclusion would be speculative seeing as there is no stated reason as to why the applicant
would attempt to avoid the Beis Din process.

(d) To Secure the Right to Documentary and Oral Discovery

From an Opposing Party
In Gerstel v. Kelman,36 the individual defendant to an action brought an application seeking
to dismiss or stay an action in favour of arbitration before a Beis Din. This case demonstrates
that a party may elect to pursue an action in civil court to receive certain procedural bene-
fits available to litigants like examinations for discovery or documentary discovery from
an opposing party. Conversely, it also highlights that a party who does not want to litigate
in civil court may be required to attend civil court to enforce an arbitration agreement
requiring the resolution of the dispute at a Beis Din.
The parties to the application were Harold Gerstel (“Gerstel”) and Joel Kelman (“Kelman”).
In December 2010, the parties entered into an agreement whereby Grestel would refer
prospective mortgage customers to Kelman in exchange for a commission on any mortgages
that Kelman was able to secure from the customers. In February 2014, Grestel commenced
an action against Kelman for failing to pay the commission as previously agreed. Subse-
quently, Gerstel received a hazmana from the Vaad Harabonim Beis Din. The hazmana contained
a covering letter from Rabbi Vale dated February 26, 2014, which stated:

Enclosed please find a hazmanah with respect to an action being initiated against you by Mr. Joel
Kelman, in the Beis Din of the Vaad Harabonim of Toronto. The plaintiff is seeking an order from
the Beis Din directing you to withdraw the action you filed against him in the Superior Court of
Justice of Ontario (Claim No. CV-14–498869) since it is being brought contrary to Halachah (Torah
Law) and to have your claim against him heard in a Beis Din.

Following the hazmana, Grestel obtained a ruling from another prominent Beis Din allowing
him to appear before a different Beis Din for the purposes of resolving the dispute and agreed
to appear before the Kollel Beis Din as opposed to the Vaad Harabonim Beis Din. This decision
followed assurances from Gerstel’s Rabbi, Rabbi Miller, that the Kollel Beis Din would be able
to adequately handle the dispute. Grestel was also concerned that if he did not submit to
a Beis Dein arbitration, the Vaad Harabonim Beis Din would issue a siruv against him which
would have serious implications on his standing within the Jewish Orthodox community. 37
While Grestel agreed to arbitration before the Kollel Beis Din in principle, he still wanted
assurances that Kelman would be required to release all of the documents related to the
mortgages in question. In late March 2014, Grestel and Kelman agreed to the terms of an
arbitration agreement before the Kollel Beis Din. Pursuant to the arbitration agreement, the
parties agreed:

36. Gerstel v. Kelman, 2015 CarswellOnt 5346, 2015 ONSC 978, 253 A.C.W.S. (3d) 272, 40 B.L.R. (5th) 314.
37. Ibid at paras. 9–13.

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 Hakhmei Lev

• to accept the decisions of the Beis Din as conclusive;

• to abide by the decisions and instructions of the Beis Din;
• the ruling will be made according to the Beis Din’s interpretation of Halachah (Torah Law); and
• to be bound by the decision of the two38
At Grestel’s request, the following provision was handwritten into the arbitration agreement:
“in the event that one side does not follow a ruling of the Beis Din the other side can go to
court, including the opening of the books, according to Beis Din’s wishes.”39
On March 28, 2014, the Kollel Beis Din issued a procedural order requiring Grestel to stay his
action in favour of the Beis Din arbitration. Once the action was stayed, Kelman was required
to make his books available to an independent bookkeeper.40 Grestel refused to stay his
action until he received Kelman’s documents. In response, Kelman started an application
for determination of whether the action should be stayed in light of the ongoing arbitra-
tion. During the application, Grestel argued that the arbitration agreement should not be
enforced as it was signed under duress and frustrated by Kelman’s refusal to produce the
requisite documents required to adjudicate the case. Ultimately, the Court did not find that
Grestel had signed under duress and was not persuaded that the arbitration agreement
was frustrated by Kelman’s actions. Instead, the Court held that pursuant to section 7 of
the Arbitration Act it was required to stay the action in favour of the arbitration agreed to
by the parties.41

(e) To Determine the Enforceability of a Religious Contract (Heter Iska)

In 625882 Ontario Ltd. v. Hacohen,42 the plaintiffs brought a motion for summary judgment on
a debt owed by the defendants in relation to three consolidated loans that were in default.
The defendants raised various defenses, including the argument that the parties had entered
a Heter Iska which purported to vary the terms of the loan to support the position that there
was no interest payable.
Between 2001 and 2005, the plaintiffs made nine loans to the defendants. By 2005, all but
one of the loans were consolidated into three loans each bearing 13% interest.43 The defend-
ants started but did not finish repaying the loans. In October 2009, the plaintiffs commenced
an action to recover the remaining amounts. The defendants claimed that the parties had
entered into a Heter Iska which had the effect of characterizing the loans as investments
without yield or interest payable to the plaintiffs. The Court rejected this position on the
basis that the defendants had previously admitted that the amounts received were a loan,

38. Ibid at para. 16.

39. Ibid at para. 17.
40. Ibid at para. 19.
41. Section 7(1) of the Arbitration Act states: “if a party to an arbitration agreement commences a proceeding in
respect of a matter to be submitted to arbitration under the agreement, the court in which the proceeding is
commenced shall, on motion of another party to the arbitration agreement, stay the proceeding.
42. 625882 Ontario Ltd. v. Hacohen, 2011 CarswellOnt 9242, 2011 ONSC 5303, 206 A.C.W.S. (3d) 726, 90 B.L.R. (4th) 224.
43. Ibid at para. 2.

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 Halakhah

the terms of the Heter Iska did not support a finding that no interest was payable and the
defendants had not acted in compliance with the Heter Iska in failing to establish that the
loan did not have a “yield” or interest.44 Although the role of the court in determining the
significance of a religious document was not outlined in the case, it is clear that the plain-
tiffs benefited from a civil interpretation of the Heter Iska in pursuing a remedy against the
defendants for defaulting on the outstanding amounts owed.

(f ) To Determine Whether an Arbitration Agreement Is Enforceable

In Finkelstein v. Bisk, 45 the plaintiff agreed to invest his life savings of $60,000 with the
defendants. Pursuant to the agreement, the defendants would receive 40% of any increase
of the investment. If there was no increase, the defendants would receive nothing for their
services. The agreement referred broadly to the applicability of “Jewish law” but it did not
contain an arbitration clause conferring jurisdiction to the Beis Din. After the agreement
was executed, the plaintiff’s investment was subsequently lost. This case demonstrates to
the litigator that just because your prospective client professes to be an Orthodox Jew it
does not mean that he or she will feel obliged to proceed to have their dispute adjudicated
before a Beis Din.
After the defendants failed to honour the agreement, the plaintiff sought out a member
of his local Beis Din to request his assistance in obtaining the return of his investment.
Consequentially, a hazmanot was issued against one of the defendants. The plaintiff subse-
quently commenced proceedings in the Superior Court of Justice for fraudulent misrepre-
sentation and asked that the Beis Din not proceed with determining the dispute. The Court
was asked to determine whether there was an agreement to arbitrate the dispute before a
Beis Din and, consequentially, if the action should be stayed as there was another proceeding
between the same parties in respect of the same subject matter that was the appropriate
forum for determining the dispute.
The Court found that the plaintiff never intended to bind himself to arbitration before
the Beis Din. Although the Arbitration Act grants arbitral tribunals the power to rule on the
jurisdiction of religious tribunals, including the power to rule on objections with respect to
the existence or validity of the arbitration agreement, the court noted that this provision
is only permissive.46 The Court also held that the case at bar was not one “where the scope
or applicability of an arbitration clause [was] an issue or where the special expertise of the
tribunal will assist in determining its jurisdiction.”47 It added that the strong policy reasons

44. Ibid at paras 30 to 34. The terms of the Heter Iska stated that a failure to achieve a yield on the investment
must be established in the following way: “The Manager agrees to claim failure to achieve yield only if the
exact amount of the profit is sworn upon by the Manager during the public reading of the Torah in an Ortho-
dox Synagogue so designated by the Investor, in the presence of the Rabbi, the Congregation and the Rabbin-
ical Court.”
45. Finkelstein v. Bisk, 2004 CarswellOnt 1129, (2004) O.J. No. 1176, (2004) O.T.C. 265.
46. Here the court was referring to section 17(1) of the Arbitration Act.
47. Ibid., at para. 14.

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that are usually cited to ensure that parties who agree to arbitrate disputes cannot ignore
that process and access the court do not apply where there was no intention to arbitration.” 48
The defendant argued that the agreement did not require the parties to arbitrate before a
Beis Din because “it is so obvious to observant Jews that it does not need to be said expressly
and because there is a custom that one tries to avoid putting negative possibilities into writ-
ing.”49 In effect, the defendant argued that arbitration before a Beis Din is an implied term to
contracts between Orthodox Jews.50 To support this position, the defendant marshalled the
following facts: the agreement broadly referred to the applicability of Jewish law, the parties
had discussed the Beis Din at the time that the contract was signed, the plaintiff had prior
experience with the Beis Din and had consulted with a rabbi from the Beis Din before starting
his action in Superior Court. On the other hand, a rabbi working with the Beis Din testified
that he was not aware of any alleged custom to avoid including “negative possibilities” in
written contracts. Nonetheless, the court found that there was no intention to arbitrate
by the plaintiff. The Court’s rejection of the defendant’s argument that arbitration before a
Beis Din is an implied term in contracts between observant Jews. This also has far-reaching
implications for observant communities. In particular, Finkelstein v. Bisk suggests that care
should be taken to draft contracts that explicitly grant jurisdiction to religious tribunals
where the parties intend for the Beis Din to govern any future disputes.

48. Ibid., at para. 15.

49. Ibid., at para. 19.
50. Ibid., at para. 13.

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 Hakhmei Lev

Maimonides and Nahmanides:

Medieval Sociologists?
Revisiting the Debate over Qorbanot
jonathan l. milevsky

Maimonides and Nahmanides’ debate over the reasons for the commandments is a
complex and far-ranging subject, spanning literally the entire Torah. Any substantive char-
acterization of either side of the argument would have to come from a thorough familiarity
with the Guide for the Perplexed, Sefer Hamitzvot, Nahmanides’ comments thereon, Nahmanides
commentary on the Torah, and to a lesser extent Maimonides’ commentary on the Mishnah
and his Mishneh Torah. There are nevertheless scholars, who are well versed in these sources,
and who have given us some insight, in broad strokes, about what defines the view of the
two medieval figures. For David Novak, Maimonides’ reasons for the commandments are to
be understood teleologically, that is, in light of their purpose, or their rational conditions.1
According to Josef Stern, Nahmanides’ reasons of the commandments are informed by
tradition and cannot be fully appreciated through reason.2
I want to challenge those conceptions by showing that, when it comes to the offerings,
Maimonides and Nahmanides’ views are shaped, at least in part, by what we would call a
sociological approach; and I will do so by showing that two modern sociologists study sacri-
fices in the same way. Indeed, through Maimonides’ cultural methodology and Nahmanides’
textual approach, they arrive at respective notions that are eerily similar to the ones offered
by William Robertson Smith and Marcel Mauss as well as Henri Hubert. I will therefore
argue that grounding Nahmanides’ understanding of the commandments in the tradition,

1. David Novak, Natural Law in Judaism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 95ff.
2. Josef Stern, Problems and Parables of Law: Maimonides and Nahmanides on Reasons for the Commandments (Albany:
SUNY Press, 1998), 79.

JONATHAN L. MILEVSKY, Ph.D. (2017), McMaster University, is a graduate of Ner Israel Rabbinical College in
Baltimore, MD. He has published articles in the Journal of Religious Ethics, Canadian Jewish Studies, Journal
of Textual Reasoning, Jewish Studies Internet Journal, and Hakira, and has two forthcoming entries in the
Encyclopedia of the Bible and its Reception. He is a lecturer in the Department of Jewish History at Tanen-
baum Community Hebrew Academy in Toronto, Canada and is a distinguished fellow at the Broughton Park
Dialogue Group in the U.K.

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 Mahshavah

and Maimonides’ reasons for the commandments in their discernable purpose, does not
adequately explain a sizeable portion of the commandments.
We begin with Novak. Although Maimonides sees the commandments as understandable
by reference to their ultimate purpose, Novak notes that the details of the commandments
are not necessarily comprehensible by reference to their reasons. The reason for this is
to avoid what he calls “totalizing rationalism.”3 Whether Novak means that there is some
deeper reason for those details which G-d hides from view or that those details exist to
throw us off the trail, so to speak, is unclear. What does emerge nevertheless is that, for
Novak, even if the commandments are knowable by reference to G-d’s purposes for them,
their details cannot be reduced to those reasons. But that assumption is undermined if
Maimonides has some other source of explaining them. This point raises the possibility
that while the form of the commandments is explained by G-d’s purposes, the content can
be elucidated in other ways.
A similar point can be made about Stern’s treatment of Nahmanides. According to Stern,
Nahmanides subscribes to the view that humans cannot arrive at the understanding of the
commandments because of a limitation in human comprehension. They can only develop
a greater understanding of them by recourse to the tradition, meaning mystical teachings.4
It follows that there should be no insight offered from a textual analysis of the sacrifices,
for that information would be developed through reason. We now turn to Maimonides
and Nahmanides’ treatments of sacrifices to see if Novak and Stern’s descriptions hold up.

Summary of Maimonides and Nahmanides’ View

We begin with Maimonides’ explanation for sacrifices, found in his Guide to the Perplexed.
There, he anticipates a question of his reader relating to how commandments can only
bring about a desired change and not serve as an end unto themselves. In his response to
this question, Maimonides suggests that sacrifice was a widespread idolatrous tendency and
that the commandment to bring offerings was a way to restrain and eventually excise this
urge.5 Thus, in its commanded form, the sacrifices were restricted with respect to the place
where they can be brought and the people who can bring them. There is very little doubt that
Maimonides’ explanation is a teleological one. He shows that the Torah tolerates idolatrous
practices with the specific goal of removing Israel’s dependence on them. Nevertheless, this
purpose does not quite explain the intricacies of the commandments; and that idea seems
to be consistent with Novak’s explanation, since the details of the commandments are not
supposed to be understandable by reference to their purpose.
What it does not account for, however, is why Maimonides goes to great lengths to explain
the details. It also does not explain why Maimonides feels the need to state that he bases his

3. David Novak, Natural Law in Judaism, 97.

4. Stern, Problems and Parables of Law, 79.
5. Maimonides, Guide to the Perplexed 3:32.

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view on an extensive study of idolatrous practices.6 Moreover, towards the end of his third
section of his Guide, Maimonides writes that if we were to understand the original practices
of idol worshippers, we would have far greater insight into the commandments, and he
names the sacrifices in particular.7 Thus, it does not appear to be the case that Maimonides’
conception of the commandments is shaped solely by their purposes.
A more plausible explanation for Maimonides’ position is that he draws on other cultures
to illuminate the details of the offerings. This suggestion can be substantiated by reference
to the work of a modern sociologist whose approach towards sacrifices, and his conception
of it, is remarkably similar to that of Maimonides. In his Religion of the Semites, which is
drawn on a series of lectures, 19th century scholar William Robertson Smith is explicit that
the method in his text is to look for broad trends in surrounding cultures:

Let it be understood from the outset that we have not the materials for anything like a complete
comparative history of Semitic religions, and that nothing of the sort will be attempted in these
lectures. But a careful study and comparison of the various sources is sufficient to furnish a
tolerably accurate view of a series of general features which recur with striking uniformity in all
parts of the Semitic field.8

Smith’s method can also be seen from his statement on festivals:

The identity of religious occasions and festal seasons may indeed be taken as the determining
characteristic of the type of ancient religion generally; when men meet their god they feast and
are glad together and whenever they feast and are glad they desire that the god should be of the
party. … The basis of this confidence lies of course in the view that the gods are part and parcel
of the same natural community with their worshippers.9

Here again, Smith arrives at his view by reference to “general features.” In the same way,
Maimonides approaches the study of sacrifices through the lens of their cultural settings.
This methodology explains why Maimonides finds it necessary to profess his familiarity
with ancient rites or to emphasize the importance of those practices for the understanding
of the commandments. Further evidence for this claim comes from Maimonides’ conception
of sacrifice and its similarity to that of Smith. According to Smith, ancient sacrifices are a
form of communion. This interpretation emerges from his description of zevah:

On the contrary, the central significance of the rite lies in the act of communion between god and
man, when the worshipper is admitted to eat of the same holy flesh of which a part is laid upon
the altar as ‘the food of the deity.’10

6. For an example, see ibid, 3:29, 32.

7. Ibid, 3:49.
8. William Robertson Smith, The Religion of the Semites: The Fundamental Institutions (New York: Schocken, 1972), 15.
9. Ibid., 255.
10. Ibid., 240.

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 Mahshavah

Ironically, it is Smith that identifies Maimonides’ view with communion. Although he

considers Maimonides too late to be significant, he cites the latter’s view that blood is the
“nourishment of the gods.”11 But there are other ways in which Maimonides’ view bears a
resemblance to the communion view. One way this can be seen is in his discussion of the
obscure laws related to sacrifices. In his Mishneh Torah, Maimonides states that, although
one may not find the reason for the sacrifices, one should not take it lightly, for it is in the
category of hok. Maimonides then gives examples of some of those hukim but the only sacrifice
he mentions is the scapegoat.12 The fact that he does not mention any other sacrifices seems
to mean that the scapegoat is the archetypal sacrifice. Given that that particular sacrifice
appears to be surrendered to G-d, as it were, it stands to reason that sacrifices as a whole
are perceived by Maimonides in this way. More evidence for the communion view can be
seen in Maimonides’ explanation for the need to spill the blood on the altar. He writes that
it stems from the practice of eating blood in order to commune with jinn.13 This is clearly
consistent with the communion view.
In addition, the fact that it is specifically within the context of his discourse on pagan
practices that Maimonides adds that the sacrifices must be brought from the finest items
– a point he repeats several times14 – is also more understandable if Maimonides subscribes
to a communion view. That is to say, given the view of sacrifice as something of which G-d
partakes, it makes sense that what is offered needs to be of the finest sort. What emerges
from this analysis is that, at least when it comes to the offerings, Maimonides’ teleology
only explains the form of the commandments; it does not account for their content.
Having identified a similarity between Maimonides’ approach towards, and understanding
of, sacrifices to those of Smith, let us now assess Nahmanides’ view in the context of Hubert
and Mauss’s critique of Smith’s position. We begin with Nahmanides’ view of sacrifices.
Nahmanides writes in his commentary on Genesis that sacrifices have an impact on the
“tree of life.”15 Then, on Genesis 7:6, Nahmanides refers to a possible “mystery of sacrifice”16
and a “great secret.”17 We get some insight into what he means in his comments on Genesis
12:17. There, he writes that the gates of heaven are where sacrifices and prayers ascend to
heaven.18 Later in the same text, he states that it is possible to direct the sacrifice to one
attribute.19 All of this indicates that sacrifices have a theurgic component, that is, that they
somehow have an effect on G-d.

11. Ibid., 234.

12. Maimonides, Mishneh Torah: Hilkhot Me’ilah 8:8.
13. Maimonides, Guide to the Perplexed 3:46.
14. Ibid.
15. Nahmanides, Commentary on the Torah, vol.1, ed. Chaim D. Chavel (Jerusalem: Mossad Ha-rav Kook, 1975), 86.
16. Ibid., 171.
17. Ibid., 88.
18. Ibid., 350.
19. Ibid., 542.

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 Hakhmei Lev

The same position also emerges from Nahmanides’ sharp critique of Maimonides’ view.
As Stern shows, Nahmanides puts forth three different arguments. The first relates to the
reason scripture itself provides for sacrifices, such as a “pleasing odor,” which Maimoni-
des is said to ignore; the second relates to the inadequacy of Maimonides’ view to explain
narratives pertaining to sacrifice in the Bible; the third is the unlikelihood of sacrifice
serving as a cure for Sabianism.20 It is a verse from Jeremiah that Nahmanides uses to make
this argument that is most pertinent to our purposes. The part of the chapter from which
Nahmanides draws relates to the mistaken view that the damage inflicted by Israel can be
easily repaired. According to Nahmanides, the message that Jeremiah is communicating is
that the covenant can only be repaired through sacrifice. Thus, Nahmanides is making an
important point about sacrifices – that they are the only way that G-d is mollified – but he
does so by drawing on the text rather than by reference to the tradition.
In addition to this theurgic component, sacrifices have an additional component: they
allow one who offers them to be substituted by the animal. While it is commonly believed
that Nahmanides takes this concept from Ibn Ezra, a closer look reveals that Nahmanides’s
position cannot be fully identified with it. Ibn Ezra writes that “in giving every part at its
time, the part, which has a share in the World to Come, will escape, which is why it says
le-khaper, meaning to give an atonement.”21 What this means is that there is a substitute for
each limb of the human being. However, Nahmanides’ view of G-d allows for the animal to
be a complete substitute for the human being:

Were it not for the loving kindness of the Creator, who took from him a substitute and a ransom,
namely, this offering, so that its blood should be in the place of his blood, its life in place of his
life, and that the chief limbs of the offering should be in the place of the chief parts of his body.22

This point should not be confused with the direct impact that the sacrifice has on G-d’s
attributes, since this merciful act is something that G-d does in return. Nevertheless, this
view in no way negates the other explanation of sacrifices. As we will see, both components
work together; which is why this combination of explanatory features cannot be appreci-
ated when seen solely as a function of Nahmanides’ mystical perspective. That is to say the
psychological component of sacrifice is not captured by Nahmanides’ emphasis on tradition.
As I will show, by reference to an alternate theory of sacrifice, one which eschews broad
generalizations in favour of textual analysis, we can discover the method which Nahmanides
uses to arrive at his view.
In their book, Sacrifice: Its Nature and Functions, Henri Hubert and Marcel Mauss state
that Smith simply collected the data “in accordance with the analogical connections that
he believes he saw between them.”23 In other words, Smith falsely assumed that what he

20. Stern, Problems and Parables of Law, 140.

21. Ibn Ezra to Leviticus 1:1. Translation mine.
22. Nahmanides, Commentary on the Torah, vol. 2, 21.
23. Henri Hubert and Marcel Mauss, Sacrifice: Its Nature and Functions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964), 7.

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found in Semitic rituals can be paired with what he found in several other cultures and
used to explain the development of the process. In contrast to this approach, Hubert and
Mauss localize their study to the Bible and Sanskrit texts. In other words, they arrive at
their conception of sacrifice through textual analysis.
It is my contention that similar approaches can be located in Nahmanides’ treatment of
the offerings. The clearest evidence for this claim are the words Nahmanides uses when
he takes up the same issue in his Torat Hashem Temimah sermon: “Whoever has eyes, and
he will see the Scripture, will admit that the matter of sacrifices is very wonderful.”24 This
claim is further supported from Nahmanides treatments of the sacrifices of Cain, Noah, and
Balaam. In each case the immediate context is used to prove the significance of sacrifices.
Further support for this claim can be seen from Nahmanides’ resulting conception of
sacrifice, which is similar to that of Hubert and Mauss. In contrast to Smith, they suggest
that the unifying feature of all sacrifice is as follows:

This procedure consists in establishing a means of communication between the sacred and the
profane worlds through the mediation of a victim, that is, of a thing that in the course of the
ceremony is destroyed.25

Elsewhere, Hubert and Mauss call this a “contractual element” which every sacrifice must
include, inasmuch as in every sacrifice, “the two parties present exchange their services
and each gets his due.”26 According to Hubert and Mauss, “the purpose of the whole rite is
to increase the religiosity of the sacrificer.” They add that, “To this end he had to be asso-
ciated as closely as possible with the victim, because it is thanks to the strength that the
act of consecration has built up in the victim that he acquires this desired characteristic.”27
It can be shown that Nahmanides’ position bears a strong similarity to this view. Just as
Hubert and Mauss see a divine and sacred element in sacrifices, Nahmanides sees a multi-
layered benefit in the qorbanot. Specifically, the sacrifices have an effect on the G-dhead but
also have an impact on the person bringing the offering. The theological component can be
seen most clearly from a statement based on the Sifri, which associates the offerings with
the name of yud heh. These are understood to be a reference to G-d’s name, and Nahmanides
learns from this teaching that the offerings have a bearing on the eternal name.
At the same time, as we have seen, Nahmanides speaks of an impact on the human beings
that bring offerings. Not unlike what Hubert and Mauss would call “religiosity,” then, the
person is transformed through the sacrifice even as the divine attributes are affected at the
same time. Indeed, these two aspects work simultaneously, as can be seen in Nahmanides’
comments on Balam’s sacrifices. Discussing Balam’s goal in bringing sacrifices, Nahmanides

24. Nahmanides, “Torat Hashem Temimah,” in Kitvei Ramban, vol. 2 (Jerusalem: Mossad Ha-rav Kook, 1963), 164.
25. Hubert and Mauss, Sacrifice, 97.
26. Ibid., 100.
27. Ibid., 52.

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states that the goal was not to remove evil beliefs from Balam’s thoughts.28 A close reading
of this comment indicates that Nahmanides is speaking about Balam himself. What he
means is that, together with the impact that the sacrifices have, there is a transformative
element to which Balaam was immune. Here we see the divine and human components of
sacrifices working together, and more importantly, that Nahmanides arrives at the latter
component through textual analysis.
It is fair to suggest that if the only source for Nahmanides’ view on this matter is the
mystical tradition, particularly if he frames his view as a response to Maimonides’ ration-
alism, we fail to understand or appreciate the psychological component of sacrifice, and
we miss the textual method he employs in order to arrive at it.

Conclusion
Using modern theories of sacrifice, I showed that Maimonides and Nahmanides’ approaches
towards the study of the qorbanot cannot be fully appreciated by reference to Maimonides’
teleology and Nahmanides mystical tradition. That is to say, for Maimonides, the goal of
framing the commandments in the context of G-d’s ultimate purpose for them, and for
Nahmanides, of resisting any explanations that reduce the commandments to reason,
does not account for how either figure arrives at their concept of sacrifices, nor does it
offer sufficient insight into the complexity of those views. It also raises the possibility
that, particularly in the case of Maimonides, it may be fruitful to study his reasons for the
commandments with an eye towards other disciplines.

This article is based on a presentation I delivered at the

Association for Jewish Studies conference in 2019.

28. Nahmanides, Commentary on the Torah, vol. 2, 294.

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Psalm 59: A Song of Holy Boldness

chaim oliver

Introduction
David saw his book of Psalms as a transformative legacy for all generations. It was not
just sacred literature for prayer, but Torah text to be studied in-depth, as were the complex
and weighty tractates of Talmud on laws of purity and impurity (Midrash Shocher Tov, Psalm
1:1). Why the selection of those tractates specifically? David wanted his Psalms to have the
same purifying effect on the human soul as the laws of ritual purity (Rabbi Mordechai Gifter).
This essay will discuss the enigmatic word ‫( עז‬oz) that is found in four verses of Psalm
59 and in many other places in Torah. Various sources, especially from Breslov texts, will
provide understanding and reflection.
In Psalm 59, David, the just warrior, captures his situation in confronting the sons,
grandsons and warriors of Saul (Radak on Verse 3). We similarly live in a world filled with
turmoil, threat, and violence. In this Psalm, David teaches us to confront azei panim (brazen
antagonistic people), as he did with azei d’kedushah, holy boldness expressed in prayer, faith,
and pragmatism.

Definitions
By way of a broader understanding of the word ‫( עזות‬azei), the shoresh (root word) ‫( עז‬oz) is
an adjective meaning strong, powerful, mighty, intense, fierce, fervent, formidable, keen,
profound, sharp, slashing, smacking, smart, and splitting.
There are fifteen places in Rabbeinu Nachman’s Likutey Moharan (several are presented
below), as well as many other places in traditional Torah texts, where the word is discussed
both in the context of strength, power, boldness, and zeal, and in reference to two opposites —
holy boldness and bold brazenness, ‫ עזות דקדושה‬and ‫( עזות פנים‬azut panim and azei d’kedushah).

CHAIM OLIVER is the author of Calling Out to Hashem (with Tikkun HaKlali), published by Breslov Research
Institute. For many years, he has taught weekly classes on Breslov teachings at the Beth Avraham Yoseph of
Toronto Congregation and other synagogues. Professionally, Chaim is the managing partner of What If What
Next, a full-service content marketing agency. He can be reached at holiver@whatifwhatnext.com.

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Psalm 59
The word ‫( עז‬oz) is found in different forms in verses 4, 10, 17 and 18 of Psalm 59.

59:4 For see, they lie in wait for me; brazen (azim) men plot against me for no offense of mine,
for no transgression, O Lord.

We hear the voice of David beseeching Hashem to protect his person and his home from
azei panim — violent, brazen, (presumably) military-trained men — the sons, grandchildren
and soldiers of Saul. These are angry, impatient men with a dubious past, men who meet
their death violently (Yevamos 79a on II Samuel Chapter 21).

59:10 O my strength (uzo), I wait for You, for G-d is my haven.

The “strength” in this verse maybe interpreted as Saul’s power, which David honoured as
an obligation under Jewish law because of Saul’s status as king. David, a man of strength
capable of violence, understands his true strength lies in his ability to pray to Hashem with
concentration and zeal. G-d is his true strength. This verse speaks to the power of emunah
and fidelity to Torah law that exemplified David’s life and is a model for us. That power
will lead to the Mashiach.
On verse 10, Radak and Rashi say the uzo (strength/power) refers to Saul. Hirsch sees in
the verse the rule that influenced all of David’s actions toward Saul: “As long as all the royal
might and power remain in the hands of Saul, I shall refrain from any action against him.
I will wait for you, Hashem, to take the initiative.” Ibn Ezra interprets uzo as a reference
to Hashem, of Whom we can say power is His alone. David says, “For you alone I do wait.”

59:17 But I will sing of Your strength (uzecha) and extol each morning Your faithfulness, for You
have been my haven, a refuge in time of trouble.

David sings of G-d’s goodness and help in the difficulties he faces through his life. He renews
himself each morning with this.

59:18 My strength (uzi), to You I sing hymns, for G-d is my haven, my faithful G-d.

G-d gives chizuk (encouragement) for all.

In these four verses, taken together, we read words of David’s strength of character,
devotion to halakhah (Jewish law), and unfailing emunah. His example offers encourage-
ment to all of us.

In Chumash
The teaching of properly applied ‫עז‬, strength, also appears across traditional texts.
In the Chumash, we see:
The Lord is my strength (azi) and might; He has become my deliverance. This is my G-d and I will
enshrine Him; the G-d of my father, and I will exalt Him (Shemot 15:2).

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In Other Psalms
I rely on G-d, my deliverance and glory, my rock of strength (uzi); in G-d is my refuge (Psalm 62:8).
The Lord is my strength (azi) and might; He has become my deliverance (Psalm 118:14).
The Lord is my strength (uzi) and my shield; my heart trusts in Him. I was strengthened and my
heart exulted, so I will glorify Him with my song (Psalm 28:7).

In the Mishnah
Judah ben Tema said, “Be strong (az) as a leopard, and swift as an eagle, and fleet as a gazelle,
and brave as a lion to do the will of your Father Who is in heaven.” (Pirkei Avos 5:20)

In the Gemara
When Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi prayed, he said after his prayer, “May it be Your will, O Lord, my G-d,
that You will deliver me today from impudent people (azei panim) and insolence (azei panim).”
(Tractate Shabbat 30b)

In the Liturgy
For we are not so brazen-faced (azay panim) (Viddui prayer).
Behold the G-d who gives me triumph! I am confident, unafraid, for G-d, the Lord, is my strength
(azi) and might and He has been my deliverance. (Havdalah prayer recited at the end of Shabbat;
Isaiah 12:2)

In Likutey Moharan
Likutey Moharan offers a number of commentaries.

Likutey Moharan 147

Whoever is brazen-faced, certainly, the feet of his ancestors did not stand at Mount Sinai (Nedarim
20a). We find, therefore, that the brazen-faced have no share in Torah.

Here we see a strong condemnation of the person using personal strength in negative
brazen arrogant ways – the personality type of the az panim. The following piece from
Likutey Moharan contrasts the two opposites — holy boldness and bold brazenness, ‫עזות‬
‫ דקדושה‬and ‫( ַעזי ּ ָפנִ ים‬azut d’kedushah and azei panim). Using one’s personal strength to draw
to closer to G-d or the opposite.

Likutey Moharan 22:4

On azei d’kedushah, holy boldness, driving to connect to tzaddikim through the ages and defeating

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the influence of brazen leadership: But it is impossible to come to these shepherds, who are the
embodiment of holiness, except through boldness. As our Sages teach (Avot 5:20), “Be bold as a
leopard,” as is written (Shemot 15:13), “Boldly You led [them] to Your holy shrine.” In other words,
by means of boldness one enters into holiness.
This is because there are shepherds from the Other Side who are also the prominent leaders of
the generation. They force people to submit to their control. Primarily, their rule stems from
brazenness – azut panim, for “brazenness is kingship without a crown” (Sanhedrin 105a). With
their brazenness, they are like dogs, as in (Isaiah 56:11), “The dogs are brazen, [they never have
enough]; they are shepherds [who cannot understand].”
And similarly (Sotah 49b), “The face of the generation is as the face of the dog.”
Therefore, it is impossible to be saved from them, from their authority, except through boldness —
standing up against their brazenness. And then, “Boldly You led [them] to Your holy shrine” —
entering holiness.
And all sounds, whether of crying out or of sighing; whether the sound of the shofar or the sound
of the song — they all are the concept of boldness, as in (Psalms 68:34), “Behold, He puts into His
voice a bold sound.”

Likutey Moharan 30:8

There is a holy boldness, without which it is impossible to receive the Torah. As our Sages said,
“The bashful person does not learn” (Avot 2:5). They also taught, “Why was the Torah given to
Israel? Because they are bold” (Beitzah 25b). And, “Be bold as a leopard” (Avot 5:20). And this
is the reason the Torah is called “bold,” as is written (Psalms 29:11), “G-d gives boldness to His
people.” For it is impossible to approach the Torah without holy boldness.

Likutey Moharan 271

A person must possess holy boldness, as is explained in many places and as it is written, “Be bold
as a leopard” (Avot 5:20), and as brought previously. And even concerning the rabbi himself,
one must possess boldness — one must speak to him boldly about everything that one needs to,
without embarrassment. One individual is closer [to the rabbi than another] only because he has
greater boldness and thus speaks to him more.
Nevertheless, one depends on the other. For this, that he has the boldness to speak, is due to his
devotions, that he does much and serves G-d a great deal. On account of this, he has the boldness
to speak with the rabbi. And on account of his speaking with him, he is brought to do and serve
much as a result of his becoming particularly inspired by having spoken to him a great deal. Thus,
it is that one depends on the other.

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Reb Noson of Breslov, a Supreme Example of Azut D’Kedushah

We find a supreme example of azei d’kedushah in the life of Reb Noson, the prime disciple of
Rabbi Nachman of Breslov. His struggles with brazen antagonistic people over many years
is beautifully described in his biography, Through Fire and Water: The Life of Reb Noson of Breslov.1
It’s a fantastic book that sheds light on the mind of Reb Noson.
Reb Noson endured so much persecution, issues with shalom bayit, and illnesses. Yet,
he never veered from his path because he had an incredible sense of mission, which he
single-mindedly pursued until his dying day. His mission: saving Yiddishkeit, saving us from
secularism, materialism, pseudoscience, sadness, and depression, all of which are inter-
related. He sought to protect us from the great atheism that he and Rabbeinu saw coming.
To quote from Reb Noson’s sefer directly, “Please fill me with holy boldness and deter-
mination, and let me use sacred sounds and voices to strengthen my connection to you. Let
me be bold as a leopard in serving you to learn your Torah and deepen my fear of heaven.
Enable my soul to have pity on my body and draw close and illuminate my body with the
light of her constant spiritual insights and perceptions” (Likutey Tefilot, Prayer 22).

The Truth Within the Truth

The emet of the emet, the truth within the truth, is that we need great doctors to inspire
us to have a super-strong vision for our own life so that we don’t sleep it away. King David
in Psalm 59 paints the picture. “You want to be spiritually strong? Do you want to put
your enemies in their place and preserve your neshamah in an upside-down world? Follow
halakhah simply and live with emunah.”
Rabbeinu Nachman continued this teaching of David and defined a path for his Chassidim
and those interested in his teachings. He taught us to pray and to learn Torah with simple
sincerity. Reb Noson transcribed, curated, and published Rabbeinu Nachman’s teachings.

Practical Azei D’Kedushah: Using Conscious Breathing

To Pray With Strength
Conscious Breathing is a fantastic skill that athletes and warriors use to connect to the
present moment and reduce stress. Practising consistently will enhance the power of your
prayer, your saying of Tehillim, and your hitbodedut (personal prayer).
Conscious Breathing (also known as Mindful Breathing) reduces muscle tension and
diminishes neurological activity. You gain the ability to connect your breathing to the
present moment and the simple words of the text. Concentrating on your breathing before
you daven will flush your mind of extraneous thought and refocus you on the task at hand —
conscious connection with your Creator.

1. Written by Chaim Kramer, edited by Avraham Greenbaum, and published by Breslov Research Institute.

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The Method
Take ten deep breaths by taking three to four seconds to inhale and five to six seconds to
exhale. Longer exhalation triggers the relaxation effect. If you need to activate yourself, do
the opposite. When you exhale quickly, you increase your activity level. For those reasons,
breathing is an excellent way to find your sweet spot on your activation scale. Inhale through
the nose and exhale through the mouth (or the nose, if you prefer). It’s important to inhale
through the nose, as its filtration system purifies the air before it reaches the lungs. While
inhaling, expand the chest first, then the abdomen. When exhaling, deflate the core first,
then the chest.

Exercise: Practise Conscious Breathing Before Saying Psalm 59

In Psalm 59, David faces a significant threat to his well-being. Yet, he digs deep to retain his
composure and principles. Try Conscious Breathing, flushing external thoughts from your
mind before carefully singing the words using a simple niggun. Bring the great emunah of
David Hamelech into your life.

A Final Word: Be the Bold Leopard, Exuberant

in Azei D’Kedushah, Holy Boldness
In summary, in our Psalm and elsewhere, we are given inspiration and instruction on how
to achieve azei d’kedushah, holy boldness. With patience, significant spiritual growth is
attainable (Likutey Moharan l, 155). What is meant by patience? Take a deep breath, letting
all the obstacles and distractions pass over you, not getting upset, not flinching, and not
losing heart in any way. Take strength from G-d, knowing His love is inexhaustible and His
kindness unending.

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The Timefulness of Torah

daniel orner

Ever since I was a young boy, I was taught that the Torah is timeless. Miraculously, a
document written over three thousand years ago remains pertinent and inspiring. And
certainly, in my formative years, I often appreciated the different parts of the Torah that
showed an incisive ability to apply to current times.
As an adult, I delved deeper into the Torah, in particular the Mishnah and Gemara. Slowly,
like bubbles floating to the surface of a bottle, I began getting queasy feelings when I came
across certain statements in the Talmud. Does it seem right to deny women testimony rights
just because we have a Biblical source for it? Are we really okay with treating someone
who happens to be deaf and mute as mentally incompetent? Is it totally reasonable to buy
a fellow human being as a slave?
The overall philosophy of Judaism, while undergoing constant stretching and twisting
over the years as part of our tradition of argument and discovery, remains strong and true.
But is every single word of the Torah equally meaningful at every period of time?
I believe that the emphasis on the Torah’s “timelessness” actually does it a disservice as a
growing, evolving source of wisdom. Removing historical context from its pages beckons
us to judge it, for all time, as if it were written today. Not only is this unfair, it is patently
untrue. There are parts of the Torah, Mishnah, Midrash, and later writings that were written
as polemics or reactions against practices and ideologies that threatened everything we
were meant to be as a people and as a religion.
On the other hand, there are features of the Torah which may have seemed downright
harmful or suffocating in olden times which can only be fully appreciated in the modern
world – a particularly enlightening example of which I will explore in a later section.
Perhaps it is better to think of particular aspects of the Torah as timeful, as opposed to
timeless. This may give us greater appreciation of its study and more confidence in its status
as the basis of our belief system.

DANIEL ORNER is a software engineer. Daniel and his wife, Ariella, and children Deena, Tehila, Nesia and
Ezriel are BAYT members.

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Laws That Make Us Feel Iffy

Here are a few, completely out-of-context quotes from the Torah. As someone reading these
words in the twenty-first century, how do these make you feel?

Now therefore kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman that hath known man
by lying with him. But all the women children, that have not known man by lying with him, keep
alive for yourselves. (Bamidbar 31:17–18)
And if a man sells his daughter to be a female slave, she shall not go out as the male slaves do.
(Shemos 21:7)
Rav Hama bar Gurya says that Rav says: From where do we know that it is permitted (to keep)
the lost item of a gentile? As it says: “With every lost thing of your brother’s.” To your brother you
return a lost item, but you do not return it to a gentile. (Baba Kama 113b)
What is the reason? The school of Eliyahu taught: Since women are light-headed. (Kiddushin 80b)
Rabbi Yochanan said: “They made bloodletting in the Land of Israel like healing that is continu-
ous.” (Kesubos 52b)

So far, we’ve seen a command to kill children and capture virgin women, an acknowledge-
ment of the right to sell one’s daughter as a slave to another man, an official difference in
victim status between a Jew and a non-Jew, an offhand insult to women’s intelligence, and
an enthusiastic approval of an archaic and harmful medical treatment.
One might react to these excerpts in a number of ways:
• Doubling down: “If the Torah says it, then it must be important. We probably should be
selling daughters as slaves, and let’s bring back bloodletting.”
• Rejection: “If the Torah says things like this, it must not be as holy as we thought. The
whole thing is probably a scam.”
• Curiosity: “Let’s dig through the commentaries until we find an explanation that makes
it feel less icky.”
I would like to propose another reaction: Recognizing that some parts of the Torah are more
important, for different reasons, at one time in history than in another. This cognitive strategy
can help us accept the Torah as authentic and life-affirming, while understanding that
particular details may be less central during some times than others. I call this way of
thinking: timefulness.

Idol Worship
In the Chumash, a number of mitzvos are given specifically as a bulwark against the practice
of idolatry. Laws against idol worship are prolific, and, especially in Sefer Devarim, the Jews are
castigated over and over to be especially careful to avoid anything resembling avodah zarah.

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In today’s day and age, idolatry is hardly the urgent temptation it was in the past. These
long passages now seem hard to connect to. In fact, our Sages themselves acknowledge
this. In Gemara (Sanhedrin 64a), the Rabbis symbolically “capture” the temptation to serve
idols and imprison it permanently, as a way of indicating that this is no longer a primary
preoccupation of the Jews:

The form of a fiery lion cub came forth from the chamber of the Holy of Holies. The prophet said
to the Jewish people: This is the inclination for idol worship. When they caught hold of it one of its
hairs fell out, and it was heard for four hundred parsei. They said: “What should we do? Perhaps
Heaven will have mercy upon it!” The prophet said to them: “Throw it into a container made of
lead and cover it with lead, since it absorbs sound.”

This story is remarkable in a number of ways, but the most important is this: The Rabbis
are saying that the Torah accomplished its goal. Idol worship and polytheism were effectively
wiped out in what would become the Middle Eastern and Western world. All of the dozens
of imprecations, curses and prohibitions worked. We were done with idolatry.
So what does that imply for the anti-idolatry mitzvos in the Torah? Are they still relevant
or not?

The Rambam and the Sacrifices

We can make a strong connection between this question and the position of the Rambam. In
the Moreh Nevuchim,1 the Rambam argues that the korbanos, the sacrifices that the children
of Israel were commanded to perform, were given as a way to wean them off of the idol
worship of the times. Trying to convince a nation to adopt monotheism without allowing
them the trappings of “old-time religion” would have been going too fast, too quickly.
Interestingly, the Rambam himself in the Mishneh Torah2 avers that in Messianic times,
the sacrifices will come back and be in full force. It seems that while the original purpose
of the korbanos is no longer relevant, the commandment itself would still be binding.
The thrust of his idea seems to be that we keep the korbanos as a practical mitzvah, and
study and discuss its laws, because there are still useful and meaningful lessons we can learn
from them (such as the significance of personal sacrifice). Korbanos are no longer critical to our
Jewish identity; however, we can tease meaningful aspects from them without subscribing
to the centrality of animal sacrifice as a tenet of Judaism.

Jewish Philosophical Battles Throughout Time

The historical milieux of our Sages aren’t limited to ancient history. Many of our great
thinkers had their writings coloured intensely by other groups and philosophies of their
day. Rabbi Yehuda Halevi, in the Kuzari, presents proof of Judaism’s triumphs over Islam

1. Moreh Nevuchim, 3:32.

2. Hilchos Melachim, 11:1.

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and Christianity. Rabbi Samson R. Hirsch spent much of his time opposing Reform Juda-
ism,3 and Rabbi Moshe Feinstein similarly discussed and discredited Conservative Judaism.4
Other Sages have inveighed against various philosophical approaches from the medieval
to the modern era.
Many of these philosophies have fallen out of favour – in some cases, the supposed oppon-
ent of the work is almost impossible to ascertain. Many more remain compelling. However,
it is still important to be able to look at these works and understand what they were trying
to accomplish. Rather than treating the entire corpus of the Torah as a single unanimous
dogma, infusing these works with timefulness yields a much more bountiful crop. It gives
us insight as to when and how to apply these arguments in our own lives.

The Gemara and Technology

It is okay that the Gemara was written a long time ago for people who lived then.
Anyone who has read older fiction – like the Sherlock Holmes stories, for example – will
find it difficult to understand exactly what a “bodkin” or “vesta” might be, since times and
technology have changed so dramatically from the time the work in question was written.
Our Sages were holy men and intellectual giants, but they were not future-seers or scien-
tists (indeed, modern science and scientific thinking was a far way from being invented
at the time). They discussed issues using the medical and agricultural science of the time
they lived.
This does not mean any of the following:
• The Gemara is no longer relevant.
• The Rabbis are outdated fools.
• We cannot learn anything from our Gemara.
• We are being disrespectful to our Sages by claiming that (for example) their medical
expertise was less advanced than our own.
• Halakhos based on faulty science are no longer valid.
There are some specific cases, identified by more modern authorities, where science’s
onward march has made changes to certain halakhos. But overall, the Gemara, and the
laws we learn from it, are still relevant and untarnished, as long as we don’t try to learn
science from it.

Cans and Musts

Timefulness is not just important to tell us why certain things were prohibited or ordained.
The Torah is described as being written with “black fire on white fire.”5 Both kinds of fire are

3. E.g. The Nineteen Letters, 19.

4. E.g. Igros Moshe, 2:17.
5. Tanchuma, Bereishis 1.

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important – the spaces behind the words can teach us lessons just as the words themselves
can. Timefulness can help us understand this “white fire.”
Let’s take the issue of having slaves as an example. Reading these chapters is profoundly
uncomfortable, because we live in a country which, for the most part, has abolished slavery.
Why is the Torah discussing slavery so matter-of-factly and in such depth when we know
how evil the practice is?
Timefulness can help explain this. The Torah actually does not tell us anything that we
can do with slaves. In general, the Torah isn’t all that fussed about can. It is concerned with
must and must not – the mitzvos and aveiros. In fact, the Torah spends all its time telling us
things we must not do with slaves – slavery must be time-limited; slaves must be recompensed
for their time when their indenture is up; slaves must not be treated badly or humiliated.
The Torah was providing limitations around slavery, because banning it entirely was
simply not something that society was ready for at that time. It’s worth considering just
how recently slavery was still legal and indeed expected. In Canada, slavery only became
illegal in 1793, and in the United States, it lasted until 1865.
So rather than reading the Torah as condoning slavery, we should be reading it as the
Torah taking an existing practice in society and putting boundaries around behaviour it
considered less than savoury.6 This is in fact a constant theme in Torah – adding limits to
things which otherwise might be harmful, either physically or spiritually. Another example
is the restrictions it provides around monarchy, such as forbidding the king from having
too many wives or horses.
This is yet another tool in our timefulness toolbox – understanding that not everything
the Torah tacitly allows is something it condones. To play on a Talmudic phrase, not every
lav implies a hein.

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

However, in my mind, the most powerful benefit unlocked by this mode of thought is the
idea that, since the Torah is timeless, some of its most important wisdom only becomes relevant
in the modern era, and in fact could not have been appreciated in the past.
By far the most obvious example of this to me is the law forbidding lighting fires on
Shabbos. Before radiators and artificial bulbs, fires were the only way to keep warm and
provide light. In colder climates, you had exactly two options: ask a non-Jew before Shabbos
to stoke the fire, or stay cold and dark all day.
This seems like an unimaginable hardship. The reasoning for it – because it is considered
work vis-à-vis the Beis Hamikdash – seems far weaker than the resulting prohibition. A
command not to do work – which, to the naive eye, doesn’t really seem like work at all –
results in taking away a basic necessity. An essential precept of Rabbinical thought is that

6. See Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Covenant and Conversation, Numbers, 367.

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“the Torah was not given to ministering angels”7 – there are some restrictions that were
overridden because keeping them would have resulted in disproportionate harm to the
very human Jews who follow them. It seems reasonable that this idea should veto the “no
fire” edict.
But that’s not what happened. We kept our halakhah going, essentially treating it as a
chok, or a mitzvah decreed by G-d which we are not permitted to question or change.8
And then electricity was born.
Electric lights and eventually central heating meant that the hardships of the fire prohibi-
tion began to diminish. But I believe we didn’t see the true purpose behind this command-
ment until the rise of television, and certainly the Internet.
In the modern era, the constant “on-ness” of life leaves one with little chance to recharge
and rebuild. And our melakha, our jobs, have in great numbers moved from physical labour
to knowledge work: sitting at a computer and typing, or calling people on the phone. The
old laws to stop work and rest on Shabbos would simply have no effect on us if the laws of
Shabbos didn’t include electricity.
A. J. Heschel called Shabbos “not a date but an atmosphere.”9 What kind of atmosphere
does a Shabbos have when everyone is on a screen? How could you claim to take a day
off work when you’re checking e-mails and instant messaging throughout the day? How
could the beauty and spirituality of Shabbos descend on your house when the mental noise
of technology never ends? A Shabbos table where everyone’s attention is pinned to their
personal device, a Shabbos davening punctuated by the rings of those who forgot to set
their phones to vibrate? A Shabbos afternoon drowning in anxious doom scrolling of social
media and dopamine-delivering video games?
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks argues, “Shabbat is our refuge from what has become, in the late
capitalist economies, a consumer culture.” 10 This refuge would be under siege if using
modern technology was fully permitted.
We have turned a chok into a mishpat – a law that we can now internalize. A rule that
seemed to do nothing but frustrate has become one that forces us to let G-d fill our houses
one day out of seven, and refresh our minds and souls from the frenetic pace of life.11

Redirecting Our Attention

Unfortunately, our toolbox still isn’t complete. What about the laws, built into our halakhic
system, that discriminate against women or non-Jews? What about the awful situation of

7. Me’ilah 14b.
8. A chok is not simply a “mitzvah that doesn’t make sense,” as can be evidenced from the fact that the Jewish
holidays in Vayikra 23, despite having very well-understood reasons, are classified as chukim. However, it does
imply a fixed legislation without space to protest or innovate. See also Bereishis 47:20.
9. Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath, p. 19.
10. Covenant and Conversation, Exodus, p. 261.
11. I would argue that the rationale and rulings of the Poskim that resulted in electricity being classified as fire
were part of the hashgakha that caused this to occur.

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agunos in our communities? How do we square these statements with the love and care
that the Torah demands for those around us?
We cannot and must not excise parts of the Torah for our pleasure. However, it is entirely
within our power to decide which parts of the Torah we want to treat as moral lessons.12 By corol-
lary, we can also decide that parts of the Torah which were normative in the past should
no longer inform our ethical worldview.
This is the final tool in our timefulness toolbox. We’ve been able to turn a chok into a
mishpat. It is also our right, in some cases, to turn mishpatim into chukim: to be able to look
at a mitzvah which does not fit our ethical standard and treat it as a “decree from G-d” – to
be followed even if it does not form a key tenet of our Jewish identity.
There are powerful ethical lessons and personal truths we can glean from different
aspects of the Torah. It is our right and responsibility to choose which of those lessons
should we should treat as timeful – where we can keep them alive as part of our heritage,
acknowledge their past importance, and still minimize their ethical impact in today’s
world – and which should be at the forefront of our minds, and infuse our beings with the
messages they teach us.
Are we the Jews-who-must-destroy-Amalek? Or the Jews-who-must-visit-the-sick? There
are “seventy facets to the Torah,” 13 and any full Jewish identity must involve many of them.
But it is our choice which we shine the spotlight on, and which are relegated to second-tier
status.

Conclusion
The Torah is huge, expansive and full of variety. Many mitzvos resonate with us positively,
and enhance our love for Judaism. Others can provide uneasiness, sadness and fear, and
cause cognitive dissonance with how we live our lives today. Only by treating the Torah as
timeful – appreciating the historical context of when each part of it was given and expanded –
can we truly treasure it in a full, satisfying and productive way.

12. Note that I speak about emphasis, not importance. We can’t know which mitzvos are more or less important.
But we can decide which of them we most want to take lessons from and internalize.
13. Bamidbar Rabbah, 13:15.

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The Meaning and Significance

of the Leviathan
rabbi ken stollon

Introduction
The Leviathan, a creature of immense, supernatural proportions, which the Klein Diction-
ary identifies as either a “serpent, dragon, or whale” is mentioned more than occasionally
in our holy texts and liturgy. Sometimes the Leviathan appears on its own, and sometimes
together, often in battle, with other creatures such as the Behemoth (a magnificently large
ox, also referred to as the Shor HaBor) or the Ziz (a magnificently large bird). In the Akdamut,
for example, which we read on Shavuot, there is mention of “the contest of the Leviathan
and the Behemoth of the tall mountain,” referring to an Aggadic tradition that these two
large beasts (the Behemoth is as tall as a mountain) will battle it out together at the End of
Days, an epic confrontation which, according to tradition, will end with the death of both
beasts, the flesh of which will then be served up as food for the Righteous.
I was able to trace virtually all references to the Leviathan in Scripture and in the Meforshim.1
What emerges is something of an enigma. More questions than answers. Is the Leviathan
a force for good in the world, or a force for evil? Why is the Leviathan associated so often
with the End of Days? I would like to explore these questions, and ultimately come to a
conclusion about the nature of the beast and why it is so important in our tradition.

1. An exhaustive search of all sources was made possible by sefaria.com. I would also point those readers who
may be interested to Herman Melville’s Introduction to Moby Dick, in which he lists pages and pages of refer-
ences to whales and to the Leviathan gleaned from both religious and secular texts, from fiction, non-fiction
and poetry. The idea of the Great White Whale as symbol is of course central to Moby Dick; short of reading the
entire novel (highly recommended), I might point you to the chapter entitled “The Whiteness of the Whale.”

KEN STOLLON is a member of the editorial team of the Hakhmei Lev Journal. The Stollon family, which includes
Faye, Nadavya (who lives in Philadelphia) and Ezra (who lives in Jerusalem), have been members of the BAYT
since 2008. Semi-retired from his practice in financial planning, Ken spends most of his time learning Torah,
and writing fiction and poetry. He received Semikha from Rav Baruch Lichtenstein, Sgan Rosh Kollel of Kollel
Ohr Yosef. To explore Ken’s poetry site and his YouTube channel, go to: www.thelionofpoetry.squarespace.com.

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Good or Evil?
The Case for Leviathan as a Force for Good
In determining whether the Leviathan is a force for good or a force for evil, let us first make
the case for good. The first appearance of the Leviathan in the Torah is in Bereishit 1:21:

G-d created the great sea monsters, and all the living creatures of every kind that creep, which
the waters brought forth in swarms, and all the winged birds of every kind. And G-d saw that
this was good.

Rashi explains that the “great sea monsters” (in Hebrew: “taninim”) are:

…the large fishes of the sea, and, according to the statement in the Aggadah, it means here the
Leviathan and its consort which He created, male and female.

The Ramban concurs with Rashi:

And our Rabbis said that the great sea monsters are the Leviathan and his spouse …

As does the Radak:

Still others believe that all the large sea monsters are known by the collective name of “Leviathan.”

In determining whether these taninim, which all the Meforshim identify as Leviathan, are
good or evil, the simple reading of the text (pshat) is that “G-d saw that this was good.”
Rabbeinu Behaya, commenting on this same pasuk, takes the argument for good a step
further:

The word ‫לויתן‬, “Leviathan,” means “connection.” It is a combination of the two words ‫לוית חן‬,
The intellect is perceived as joining the soul.

According to Rabbeinu Behaya, the Leviathan combines two important aspects of G-d’s
creation which we normally consider fundamentally good: the soul and the intellect. As
Rabbeinu Behaya points out, the word “Leviathan” contains the word “levaya,” which we
typically translate as “funeral”; however, the word “lavaya” actually means “accompanying
or escorting,” and refers to the lining up of friends and family into rows at a funeral to
accompany/escort the deceased and the mourners. These ideas of accompaniment and chesed
are seemingly part and parcel of the essence of the Leviathan, and can be traced back to
the etymology of the word itself.
The Leviathan makes several appearances in Tehillim. In Psalm 148, which we recite every
day at Shacharit, we find the following: “Praise the LORD, O you who are on earth, all sea
monsters and ocean depths…” (verse 7). Once again, we see that “sea monsters” (in Hebrew:
“taninim”) is a synonym for the Leviathan, and we note that the Leviathan, in this psalm, is
praising G-d, giving thanks to Him for His lovingkindness which endures throughout the

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cosmos (i.e., even into the depths of the ocean). Psalm 104, Borchi Nafshi, which we say as part
of our tefilla on Rosh Chodesh, states: “There go the ships, and Leviathan that you formed to
sport with” (verse 26). Here, in this psalm, the Leviathan is mentioned by name; the more
generic term “taninim” is not used. And here the creature is characterized as a kind of pet
or plaything for G-d, for Him to “sport with.” What better argument can we make for the
goodness of the Leviathan? How can we in any way disparage G-d’s pet?
The Gemara, in Bava Batra 75a recounts two powerful mesorot involving the Leviathan,
which, yet again, seem to link the mighty sea creature to goodness and holiness:

Rabba says that Rabbi Yohanan says: In the future, the Holy One, Blessed be He, will make a feast
for the righteous from the flesh of the Leviathan, as it is stated: “The chaverim will make a feast …”
And Rabba says that Rabbi Yohanan says: In the future, the Holy One, Blessed be He, will prepare
a sukkah for the righteous from the skin of the Leviathan, as it is stated: “Can you fill his skin
with barbed irons [besukkot]” (Job 40:31). If one is deserving of being called righteous, an entire
sukkah is prepared for him from the skin of the Leviathan; if one is not deserving of this honor,
a covering is prepared for his head, as it is stated: “Or his head with fish-spears” (Job 40:31).

The first mesorah that the Gemara cites is that the Leviathan (along with the Shor HaBor) will
be served up as food for the righteous in the End of Days.2 As the Kedushat Levi (Kedushat
Levi, Numbers, Beha’alotcha 5) explains:

Our sages promised us that in the future, G-d Himself will invite ‎the tzaddikim to a meal where
both Leviathan a‎ nd the Shor HaBor will be served. As a beverage, there will be wine saved for
the o‎ ccasion from Gan Eden.

According to tradition, at the time of creation, the Leviathan was originally created both
male and female, but it soon became evident that given the chance to multiply, the species
would wreak havoc on the world by consuming all its resources. G-d therefore killed the
female Leviathan and salted it away for the aforementioned feast. There is an opinion that
the more freshly killed male Leviathan will also be available for the Banquet, but Jews
apparently prefer salted fish to fresh fish (cf. Bava Batra 74b), so the female Leviathan meat
will be more in demand. This Aggadah has been interpreted allegorically by the Akeidat

2. As both the meat of the Leviathan and the meat of the Shor HaBor will be served at the Banquet for the Right-
eous, the Gemara in Chullin 67b discusses whether these are indeed kosher animals. The Gemara quotes from
Sefer Iyov: “His armor is his pride” (Job 41:7) and “sharpest potsherds are under him” (Job 41:22) to prove that
the Leviathan is a kosher fish, with scales (“armor”) and fins (“sharpest potsherds”). The Midrash Tanchuma
(Shimini 7:1) also confirms that even though the Shor HaBor will be killed with a blow from the Leviathan’s
tail, the Sages rule that it is nonetheless a “kosher slaughter.” And on a final somewhat humorous note, Rabbi
J. David Bleich in Contemporary Halakhic Problems, Vol. VI, Chapter 8, quips: “[there is] a tradition to the effect
that both the Leviathan and the Shor Habor will be featured at this banquet. A folk witticism has it that the
Leviathan will be available to those who will request fish since even then they will be unwilling to rely upon
the kashrut of the meat.”

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Yitzchak (51:1:7) to mean that what will be served to the tzaddikim are: Torah (well-aged
wine) and Mitzvoth (the salted meat of the female Leviathan).
The second mesorah mentioned in the Gemara has to do with the skin of the Leviathan,
which is clearly associated with a mitzvah (i.e., making a sukkah), and, again, with a reward
for the Righteous in the End of Days. Surely if the Leviathan were not a holy creature, it
would not qualify for such a use. Tangentially, the Shnei Luchot HaBrit (Torah Sh’Bikhtav,
Toldot, Torah Ohr 114) cites a Midrash which states that the skins used to make the ketonot ohr
for Adam and Eve, to cover their nakedness, were taken from the original female Leviathan;
again, a use of the skin for a holy purpose (i.e., tzniut).
There a custom when we leave the sukkah for the last time on the last day of Sukkot to
recite the following prayer:

May it be Your will, Hashem, our G-d and the G-d of our forefathers, that just as I have fulfilled
[the mitzvah] and dwelled in the sukkah, so may I merit in the coming year to dwell in the sukkah
of the skin of Leviathan. (Artscroll siddur, page 725)

Indeed, the Rema cites this as a widespread custom. (cf. Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim, siman 667).
I believe I have provided a number of compelling arguments in favour of the thesis that
the Leviathan is very much a symbol of goodness and holiness. As one might imagine, this
idea is corroborated in numerous Chassidic and mystical sources. I will suffice to mention
two. The sefer Shaar HaEmunah V’Yesod HaChassidut by Rav Gershon Chanoch Henoch of
Radzin, states (7:2): “Leviathan represents the highest levels of Hokhmah – Wisdom, which
are concealed in the upper waters.” And the Likutei Moharan, which is attributed to Rav
Nachman of Bratslav, proclaims: “Leviathan alludes to Malkhut” (Part II, 7:10:10). Hokhmah
and Malkhut, both emanations of the Sefirot, are, from a Kabbalistic perspective, all good!

The Case for Leviathan as a Force for Evil

Let’s now present the opposing argument: that the Leviathan is a force for evil in this world.
We begin by going back to the Gemara that we cited earlier, a little bit higher up on the same
page, Bava Batra 75a:

When Rav Dimi came from Eretz Yisrael to Babylonia, he said that Rabbi Yohanan said: When the
Leviathan is hungry, he produces breath from his mouth and thereby boils all of the waters in the
depths …. And if the Leviathan placed its head in the Garden of Eden, no creature could withstand
his foul smell, as it is stated: “He makes the sea like a seething mixture …”

We have in this Gemara an idea that the Leviathan is evil in spite of itself. Large and powerful
as it is, it is by nature destructive. Therefore, its breath boils the water and its foul smell is
unbearable to other creatures. These may be unintentional vices, but they are destructive
nonetheless.
The Leviathan figures prominently in two books in Tanach: indirectly in Sefer Yonah and
directly in Sefer Iyov. Even though “a big fish” (i.e., the one that swallows Yonah) is of course a

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central character in the story in Sefer Yonah, this “big fish” – which has its own set of Aggadic
traditions attached to it – is not the Leviathan.3 The Leviathan does not actually appear in
Sefer Yonah, but the Yalkut Shimoni (Nach 550:2) relates the following curious Midrash:

The fish [that swallowed Yonah] said to Yonah, “Don’t you know that my day has come to be fed
into the mouth of the Leviathan?” The fish brought him to the Leviathan, and Yonah shouted to
him, “Leviathan!” The Leviathan saw Yonah and fled from him a distance of two days’ journey.
Then Yonah said to the fish, “I saved you from the mouth of the Leviathan, now show me every-
thing which in the seas and the depths.”

The Leviathan is presented in this Midrash as a frightening beast, a bully if you will, that
instils fear and trembling in the “big fish” that has swallowed Yonah. Yonah’s ability to save
the big fish by scaring away the bigger fish ultimately inspires a debt of gratitude which
Yonah requests payment on.
In Sefer Iyov, which the Gemara that we cited earlier quotes, the Leviathan is portrayed
as wild and untameable. Only G-d has the power and strength to tame it. As such, G-d
challenges Iyov, saying (Job 40:25): “Can you draw out the Leviathan by a fishhook? Can
you press down his tongue with a rope?” Whereas the Gemara argued that these verses are
an allusion to the sukkah that will be made from the beast’s skin, the Malbim has a very
different reading of these verses. For him, they demonstrate that both the Leviathan (and
the Behemoth) are not only wild and untameable, but actually have sinister intentions.
Here is a condensation of the Malbim’s commentary on Job 40:15–25:

Continuing the charade, G-d asks Iyov how he intends to deal with the two most powerful and
imperious beasts He created, the Behemoth, that consumes all vegetation, leaving nothing behind
for the other land beasts, and the Leviathan, which preys on all the other sea creatures …. Beyond
discipline or training, the Leviathan is the embodiment of ferocious and ungovernable violence,
and it knows it, and does not care.

For the Malbim, the Leviathan and Behemoth are archetypes of beings that exploit their
power over others for their own purposes. And, in his interpretation, this evil is done
consciously and intentionally.
We can now understand the prophecy of punishment in Isaiah 27:1:

3. There is a popular misconception that the big fish (dag gadol) that swallowed Yonah was indeed the Leviathan,
but this is not supported by the pshat. The fish in Sefer Yonah is never referred to as Tanin or Livyatan, the terms
that, as we have seen, are most commonly used to refer to the Leviathan, but only as a Dag Gadol. As well, none
of the major meforshim mention that this dag gadol is the Leviathan. The ArtScroll Book of Yonah, which draws
on the Vilna Gaon’s Aderes Eliyahu, interprets Yonah’s time in the belly of the fish as a metaphor for the soul’s
journey into Gehinnon, which facilitates Yonah’s repentance, and “re-birth” when, in an act resembling child-
birth, the fish spits him out onto dry land. His time inside the belly of the fish serves as a purification process
for Yonah, where he can properly repent for the sin of trying to evade his prophetic mission. Here we see a big
fish – even if it’s not the actual Leviathan – acting as a catalyst for repentance and purification, which would
certainly support the argument that big fish (like the Leviathan) were created as forces for good in the world!

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In that day, the Lord will punish – with His great, cruel, mighty sword – Leviathan the Elusive
(or Stretching) Serpent and Leviathan the Twisting (or Crooked) Serpent. He will slay the Dragon
of the Sea.

Here the Leviathan is clearly described in negative terms, and is deserving of punishment.
It also appears that there may be two versions of the Leviathan … the Twisting or Crooked
version and the Elusive or Stretching version. Based on their descriptors, neither version
seems to be too appealing. Our previous conception of the Leviathan as a good and holy
creature seems to have been shattered. But it gets worse.
The Ibn Ezra on this pasuk in Isaiah states:

Some are of the opinion that the Leviathan, the stretching serpent, and the Leviathan, the crooked
serpent, are both land animals, and are used figuratively for the kings of the land: Assyria or Babylon.

In other words, the two variations of the Leviathan are symbolic of two evil empires (Assyria
and Babylon), both of which historically wreaked havoc on the Jewish people. Moreover,
the Midrash Tanchuma on Parshat Va’era 3:2, compares the Leviathan to Egypt, yet another evil
empire which inflicted harm upon the Jews, arguing that both Pharaoh and the Leviathan
possess the qualities of a snake.
The Akeidat Yitzchak (60:1:3), commenting on Bava Batra 74, sums up the case for the Levia-
than as a force for evil, as the embodiment of materialism and animalistic desire:

If the most powerful union of body and spirit in this universe, Leviathan, would be allowed to
roam completely unfettered, it could destroy the entire civilisation, G-d forbid. [Similarly] if
human intelligence were to be used exclusively to advance Man’s materialistic aspirations [and
animalistic desires], the results could be disastrous.

Therefore, it is fitting that this evil creature be punished, as we have already seen in Isaiah
27:1. This is reinforced in Psalm 74:14, where we note that G-d “crushed the heads of the
Leviathan.” All this violence emanating from G-d and directed at the giant sea creature must
be an indicator that it is evil and sinful! Perhaps even the skinning of the Leviathan at the
End of Days which, we previously argued, seemed to be a proof of the Leviathan’s inherent
goodness and holiness (in that his skin was being used for a mitzvah) needs to revisited,
since there too the end is violent (i.e., the Leviathan is skinned).

A Possible Conclusion
So is the Leviathan good or evil? Perhaps it’s not so simple. Perhaps the message is that
things in our world are not so clear cut. Good and evil can co-exist in the same creature.
Or perhaps it’s not an issue of good versus evil at all. It could be that we missed the
point, the most obvious point, that the message of the Leviathan is related not to its moral
character but to its size. The Leviathan is big! Big beyond our comprehension. Beyond our
imagination. Beyond our ken. It is so large that it extends outside the limits of our perception

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and apprehension; we literally cannot take it all in at once, it is beyond the scope of our
peripheral vision. The Gemara (Bava Batra 74b) describes the reaction of Rabbi Yehoshua to
seeing the eyes of the Leviathan, peeking out over the surface of the water:

The Sages taught: There was an incident involving Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua, who were
traveling on a ship, and Rabbi Eliezer was sleeping and Rabbi Yehoshua was awake. Rabbi Yehoshua
trembled, and Rabbi Eliezer awoke. Rabbi Eliezer said to him: What is this, Yehoshua; for what
reason did you tremble? Rabbi Yehoshua said to him: I saw a great light in the sea. Rabbi Eliezer
said to him: Perhaps you saw the eyes of the Leviathan, as it is written: “And his eyes are like the
eyelids of the morning” (Job 41:10).

If witnessing the eyes – just the eyes – of the beast provokes this type of reaction, one can
only imagine the type of reaction one might have from seeing the entire body, if indeed it is
even possible. With awe and wonderment and terror, we might exclaim: how is it possible?
how is it possible?
And so we find ourselves repeatedly asking the same question, with the same feeling of
terror and awe, in the context of our lives and our history. How is it possible … the Holocaust?
How is it possible … tzaddik v’rah lo (i.e., that bad things happen to good people)? How is it
possible … rasha v’tov lo (i.e., that good things happen to bad people)? How is it possible … the
suffering and death of innocent children? And so on, and so on. Questions that don’t have an
answer. Questions so big that we can’t fathom them. Many Rabbis, including the Rambam, 4
have struggled with these questions. I would like to suggest that the symbol for these big,
unfathomable questions is the Leviathan. And, just as the Leviathan, as we have argued,
embodies both evil and good, it is a symbol not only for the large, disturbing questions but
also for the large delightful questions, such as: how is it possible … the creation of the world
in all its glorious detail and splendor? and how is it possible …the birth of a perfectly formed
human being? and so on. Like the magnificent sea creature, these questions are beyond
our comprehension, beyond our imagination, so large that they simply boggle the mind.
But G-d promises us that all of these questions will indeed be answered, that everything
will become crystal clear and illuminated to us at the End of Days, in the time of the Moshiach,
as we read in Tehillim 36:10, “in Your light we will see light.” As the Nevi’im write:

For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of G-d, as the waters cover the sea. (Isaiah 11:9)
For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of G-d’s glory, as the waters cover the sea. (Habakkuk
2:14).

This “knowledge,” promised to us at the End of Days, is the knowledge that we seek, the
“knowledge of G-d’s glory,” the vast knowledge, vast like “the sea,” of things that are currently
unknown and unknowable to us. In the time of the Moshiach, we will, kav’yachol, see the
world through G-d’s eyes; He will give us the requisite knowledge and awareness to make

4. See Rambam on Mishnah Sanhedrin 10:1:1.

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sense of these large and difficult questions, which in our current state are impenetrable to
reason. And how will G-d effect this? How will he open our eyes? Fittingly, by feeding us
the flesh of the Leviathan at the Banquet of the Righteous.5 The great sea creature, which,
as I have argued, is the living embodiment of our big, unfathomable questions, will be cut
up into small, digestible servings for us to ingest and digest. In other words, metaphoric-
ally, the big questions in life will be broken down and made comprehensible to us. We will
literally get under the skin of these questions; when we sit in the sukkah made out of the
skin of the Leviathan, we will come to know the Leviathan outside-in and inside-out; we
will, in a sense, be fully immersed in the Leviathan. So, too, will we, in the End of Days,
basking in the glow of Divine knowledge, be fully enlightened to all the mysteries of the
universe, and merit a brand new understanding of all the large questions, the painful and
perplexing questions, in our lives.

5. Reinforcing my idea that the meat of the Leviathan will be our conduit to understanding “G-d’s glory” is
Rabbeinu Behaya’s long commentary on Bereishit 1:21, in which he posits that the Banquet of the End of Days
will provide both material and spiritual pleasure. As he writes: “We know that spiritual forces are awakened
and strengthened through the intake of physical food. The idea behind this feast therefore is that … it would
be extremely satisfying from a gastronomic point of view, [and] the spiritual benefits derived from it would
be commensurate.”

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Lot’s Daughters
asher breatross

In a Chumash shiur that my Rebbi, Rabbi Hershel Schachter, gave in 19761 he commented
upon the delusional behavior that Lot’s two unmarried daughters 2 exhibited upon their
escape from Sedom. Their delusion stemmed from the fact that they believed that the
world was destroyed, that they and their father were the sole survivors of this cataclysm,
and that it was up to them to continue the human race.
Implied in this belief was that Avraham Avinu did not survive. This was a delusional belief
for its further implication was that they honestly felt, due to the fact that they were worthy
of surviving, that they were more righteous than Avraham Avinu.
As indicated by his behavior, it is unlikely that Lot shared his daughters’ belief, perhaps
because he did not share the same level of awareness. On that first night in the cave with
his daughters, he simply wanted to get drunk and forget his problems. All he seemingly
wanted to do was escape, albeit temporarily, from the miserable situation he found himself
in, having lost his wealth, his wife and his two married daughters. Also, he apparently did
not hold his two single daughters, who were with him in the cave, in high regard since he
had been ready to sacrifice them to the inhabitants of Sedom who had gathered outside his
home, outraged by the hospitality that Lot had shown to the two angels.
Rashi comments3 that after the first night with his older daughter, Lot understood very
well what had transpired. Nevertheless, on the second night he did not refrain from again
consuming alcohol even though he knew what the result might be. Rashi then quotes the
Midrash Rabba and the Tanchuma that Lot had a strong desire for forbidden relations, which
resulted in him committing incest.

1. Heard in Chumash Shiur on Parshat Vayeira delivered on November 11, 1976.

2. Rashi on 19:14 says that Lot had two unmarried daughters and two married daughters. See footnote 3 where
Rabbi Korobkin, in a shiur on Lot’s daughters, mentions another daughter who was put to death before Sedom
was destroyed for feeding a poor man.
3. See Rashi on 19:33 starting with the words “and she lay with her father.” The comment of Rashi is found at
the portion of Rashi that starts with the words “and of her getting up.”

ASHER BREATROSS, a native of Ottawa, is a graduate of Yeshiva College and Osgoode Hall Law School. A
retired lawyer and Gabbai at the BAYT, he currently summarizes criminal cases for a legal publisher. Asher is
married to Annette and together they have much nachas from their children and grandchildren. Asher loves
to learn and to write Divrei Torah on a variety of topics.

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The Chatam Sofer writes4 that one should not think that the punishment of Sedom was
too stringent, for this story about Lot and his daughters is an indicator of the low level of
morality of the inhabitants of Sedom. The Chatam Sofer notes that Lot and his daughters were
considered tzaddikim by Sedom standards; their incestuous relations in the cave therefore
even further emphasizes how low the level of morality must have been in Sedom.
On the other hand, it is possible that Lot’s daughters felt they were the only survivors
after the destruction of Sedom not because they felt that they were superior to Avraham
Avinu, but because did not even know that Avraham Avinu existed!
In support of this theory, the Abarbanel asks5 why, when Lot escaped from Sedom, did
he not flee to Avraham Avinu’s home, instead of to a cave? Lot was aware that twenty-four
years earlier Avraham risked his life to free him from the four kings who had captured him.
After he was rescued, Lot chose to remain in Sedom; he preferred the wealth of Sedom to
the spirituality of Avraham. He preferred a more materialistic life to a more elevated life
with his uncle.
The rulers of Sedom were presumably aware of Avraham and his character traits, which
were antithetical to their society and culture. When Lot moved to Sedom, he was very likely
welcomed by its inhabitants because he was rich. However, because of his exposure to
Avraham Avinu and the values of hachnassat orchim, he would have been told that he would
have to rid himself of certain practices that he had previously learned from his uncle if he
wanted to fit in and succeed in Sedom society. Lot would also be watched by the leadership
of Sedom very closely to make sure that he did not have any lapses.
Indeed, Lot succeeded in fitting in and was accepted into Sedom society for, according
to Midrash,6 he was appointed to be a judge over judges on the day that the angels arrived.
Living in the environment of Sedom for as long as he did obviously had a negative effect
on Lot’s neshamah and on his value system. After the destruction of Sedom, Lot may have
been ashamed or embarrassed to return to Avraham; having put Avraham and Avraham’s
values out of his life, he may not have wanted to show his uncle the state of depravity that
he had descended to.
Lot’s wife, too, would have discouraged any connection between her family and Avraham
Avinu for she was worse than her husband, and disassociating herself from Avraham would
also, she knew, improve her social standing in Sedom. Rashi 7 quotes the Midrash Rabba
that Lot’s wife got upset when Lot asked her for a bit of salt for their guests. Her response
was to criticize her husband’s desire to put into practice the custom of hosting guests. Her
ultimate punishment – being turned into a pillar of salt – was therefore quite fitting, midda
k’neged midda; since she held back from sharing a bit of salt, she was transformed into salt!

4. Quoted in Itturei Torah, volume one, compiled by Avraham Yitzchak Greenberg, Yavne Publishing House, Tel-
Aviv, 1972, page 151.
5. See Abarbanel on Bereishit 19, page 251, left column, eight lines from bottom.
6. See Rashi on 19:1, starting with the words “and Lot was sitting at the gate of Sedom.” The Midrash is found in
Bereishit Rabba 50:3.
7. See Rashi on 19:26, starting with the words “and she became a pillar of salt.”

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The daughters, presumably, also wanted to fit into the Sedom society. As such, they either
did not care to know that they were related to Avraham, or perhaps their parents thought
it judicious to keep this information from them.
Yet, there is another way to analyze this matter. It is based on the assumption that the
daughters were in fact righteous women who had good intentions and who innocently erred.
The operative words for their behavior come from the statement of the older daughter
to the younger. She explained8 to her sister that their father was old and there was no one
else around who had the capacity to have relations with them. Since they thought they were
on a mission from Hashem to save humanity they would just have to manage with the only
male who they believed had survived and who could impregnate them, namely their father.
The theory that the daughters were modest women is found in the commentary of
Rabbeinu Bachya.9 The daughters believed, according to Rabbeinu Bachya, that they acted for
the sake of heaven. They saw what happened to their mother and they felt that they had
to do something drastic as the survival of the human race was at stake.
Because the daughters had lofty motives the word “znus” is not found in this section.
On the contrary, the older daughter merited that Rus was descended from her, and the
younger daughter merited that one of her descendants was Naama, who was the mother
of King Rechavam of Yehuda.
Rabbi Moshe Feinstein zt”l brings a source to show how highly regarded the daughters
were.10 He relates that in 1922, in the community of Luban, Russia, where he served as Rav,
one of the baalei batim suffered from an unusual illness. This man became ill because he
questioned the well-known tradition that the Moshiach will be descended from the daughters
of Lot. He felt that they should have been embarrassed by their immoral behavior which
had resulted in the births of Moav and Ammon. While suffering through his illness, Lot’s
daughters appeared to this man in a dream; they communicated to him in the dream that
they could have claimed that the Shechinah impregnated them, as another religion claimed
about their object of worship, but they did not. They named their children as they did to
teach that when a woman becomes pregnant the father is always a person of flesh and blood.
Thus, they merited that the true Moshiach would come from them. The daughters also told
the man that he committed a serious sin and he would be punished just as the spies who
spoke lashon hara about Eretz Yisroel were. And that in fact this is was what happened to him.
In conclusion, the story of Lot’s daughters is not a simple story of arrogance, lust and
incest. Rather, there is more to this story than meets the eye, and it reflects the complexity
of the participants in this story.
This Dvar Torah is in memory of my Bobie Leah Bas R’ Meir Dov HaKohein,
whose Yarzheit falls on the 22nd day of Kislev.

8. See the wording of the Pasuk at 19:31.

9. See Rabbeinu Bachya on 19:30.
10. This story is found in the introduction to the eighth volume of R. Feinstein’s responsa Igros Moshe. This story is
quoted by R. Korobkin in a source sheet from a Ladies’ Chumash shiur delivered on October 31, 2017. This Shiur
can be viewed at https://youtu.be/k_Dk7dPXrt0.

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The Princely Prerogative

karyn goldberger

If I were to casually ask you, “So, why was Moshe required to flee Egypt?” No doubt, you
would respond, “Because he killed the Egyptian.” I would like to suggest that that fact is a
part of the story. However, it is not the whole story.1
In order to understand Moshe’s actions and their ultimate consequences, we need to
return to earlier portions of the narrative. Comparable to the saga of a modern superhero,
where the author often provides us with the backstory – the “origin story,” if you will – the
Torah has given us clues to decipher the elements that contributed to the greatness of our
superhero, Moshe. Moreover, these qualities of character will enable us to fully comprehend
what truly transpired during the incident with the Egyptian taskmaster.

Part One: Moshe’s “Backstory”

Soon after Moshe’s birth, we hear of his mother preparing a basket in which to place him
and set him adrift on the Nile. It was her hope that he would be miraculously spared from
Paro’s evil decree to drown the Jewish male babies in the river.2 And, as it turned out, this
was G-d’s plan as well; Moshe was to be saved by none other than the daughter of the
perpetrator of this nefarious plan.
Now let us paint a picture: this saviour was the very beautiful, very well-taken-care-of
daughter of Paro. She had servants to do her bidding. If she had some shmutz in her “bath-
tub,” she would not demean herself by attending to it. And yet, that was essentially what
happened. In her bathing area along the Nile, there appeared a basket. Not a pretty basket
filled with fruit, mind you. But a dirty, malodorous basket covered in pitch and tar. 3 We
can only imagine that a “regular” princess would have exited the scene until the mess was
cleared away. Or, at the very least, she would have ignored it had it been far enough in the

1. This essay will examine Moshe’s early life: Exodus 2:1-15.

2. HaKtav VeHaKabala on Exodus 2:3.
3. Exodus 2:3.

KARYN GOLDBERGER, a former teacher at Netivot HaTorah, made Aliyah with her family in 2005. Karyn
enjoys learning Torah, giving shiurim, and spending time with her grandchildren. She recently returned to
school to complete a Masters in Tanach at Bar-Ilan University. When travelling, she tries to give a shiur in
whatever locale she finds herself.

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distance. But not our princess! She was fully engaged with her surroundings; she noticed
everything. Moreover, upon seeing the anomaly, she expended an effort to access the floating
basket.4 Despite her lofty station, she was definitely not a dispassionate bystander.
Subsequently, as the text indicates, she opened the basket, finding cradled within it, a
baby boy.

.‫אמר ִמ ַ ּי ְל ֵדי ָה ִע ְב ִרים זֶ ה‬ ֹ ּ ַ‫וַ ִּת ְפ ַּתח וַ ִּת ְר ֵאה ּו ֶאת ַה ֶ ּי ֶלד וְ ִה ֵ ּנה נַ ַער ֹּב ֶכה וַ ַּת ְחמֹל ָע ָליו ו‬
ֶ ‫ת‬
When she opened it, she saw that it was a child, a boy crying. She took pity on it and said, “This
must be a Hebrew child.5

But within this verse, we notice something incongruous. At first the child is termed a “yeled”
– a child. But a brief two words later, he is called a “na’ar” – a youth.6 Interesting. Why did
the text not use the term yeled/child again? Did the occupant of the basket grow from a
child to a youth in the blink of an eye? Of course not! So what is the text trying to tell us
with these two words so closely adjacent?
To assist in our understanding of the term “na’ar” let us consider a passage later in Exodus.

‫ל־ה ַּמ ֲחנֶ ה ו ְּמ ׁ ָש ְרתוֹ יְ הוֹ ׁ ֻש ַע‬

ַ ‫ל־ר ֵעה ּו וְ ׁ ָשב ֶא‬
ֵ ‫ל־פנִ ים ַ ּכ ֲא ׁ ֶשר יְ ַד ֵ ּבר ִא ׁיש ֶא‬
ָ ּ ‫וְ ִד ֶ ּבר ה׳ ֶאל־מ ׁ ֶֹשה ּ ָפנִ ים ֶא‬
.‫ִ ּבן־נוּן נַ ַער ל ֹא יָ ִמ ׁיש ִמ ּתוֹ ְך ָהא ֶֹהל‬
Hashem would speak to Moses face to face, as one man speaks to another. And he would then
return to the camp; but his attendant, Joshua son of Nun, a youth, would not stir out of the Tent.7

Ramban comments on this verse that Joshua is termed a na’ar, despite clearly being a full-
fledged, adult male. He theorizes that in all instances where there is a master and a servant,
the Hebrew language calls the servant a “na’ar,” as servants must possess youthful vigour.8
Nevertheless, this is not completely satisfying, as the sentence itself already has the
terminology of “ ֹ‫ – ”ו ְּמ ָׁש ְרתו‬his servant. So, in this case, what does “na’ar” come to add? I
would like to propose an expansion of the idea of “na’ar” as “servant” to the broader idea
of “protégé.” A servant/master relationship is one where the subordinate party does the
bidding of the superior. However, there is no concomitant intention that this servitude is
meant to develop the character of the “na’ar,” as it would in the context of a protégé and a
mentor. Moreover, this latter type of tutelage serves as an effective apprenticeship, in order
that the protégé will eventually assume the role of his current mentor – as leader.

4. Rashi on Exodus 2:5. She either sent her maidservant or extended her own (elongated) arm. Either action
indicates agency and involvement with her surroundings.
5. Exodus 2:6.
6. Throughout this essay I cite (unedited) the JPS (Jewish Publication Society, 1985) translation found in Sefaria.
However, where I find the translation less precise than I consider accurate, I reserve the right to bring an
alternate translation.
7. Exodus 33:11.
8. Ramban on Exodus 33:11.

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 Torah Li-Shmah

In addition to the pairing of Joshua and Moshe as protégé and mentor, another clear
indication of this phenomenon is the case of the prophet, Samuel, and Eli, his mentor.
Throughout the first few chapters of Samuel I, as he grows, Samuel is constantly referred
to as a na’ar/youth. Notably, however, as Samuel is brought to Eli, the text utilizes the term
na’ar not only as a noun, but seemingly as a verb as well.
ֹ‫יפה ַא ַחת ֶק ַמח וְ נֵ ֶבל יַ יִ ן וַ ְּת ִב ֵאה ּו ֵבית ה׳ ִׁשלו‬
ָ ‫וַ ַּת ֲע ֵלה ּו ִע ָּמ ּה ַ ּכ ֲא ֶׁשר ְ ּג ָמ ַל ּת ּו ְ ּב ָפ ִרים ְׁשל ָֹׁשה וְ ֵא‬
.‫וְ ַה ַ ּנ ַער נָ ַער‬
When she had weaned him, she took him up with her, along with three bulls, one ephah of flour,
and a jar of wine. And (meaning of Hebrew uncertain) though the boy was still very young, she
brought him to the House of the LORD at Shiloh.9

We note here that even the JPS translation is stymied by the terminology of ‫הנער נער‬. The
youth “youthed” might be considered a more precise translation. But what would that mean
exactly? I would suggest that a parallel terminology might be that “the protégé behaved as
a protégé” does – he served and he learned.’10
This reading is buttressed by Radak, who alludes to a purpose beyond a simple servant-
boy, when he explains that the “youth” was brought to Eli “to sit and learn before him and to
be educated in Torah and Mitzvot.”11 Although it is not explicit here that Samuel will inherit
Eli’s position as high priest, it becomes clear later in the story.12
And so, extrapolating to our narrative, this terminology intimates that Moshe, as a “na’ar,”
would be the protégé of his new mother, Bat Paro.13 Rabbi Yosei the son of Rabbi Hanina notes
that Bat Paro, as she opened the basket, saw the Divine Presence was with the baby.14 Thus,
although at the outset she notes a mere physical child, with her attendant divine vision,
she may have quickly realized that she is to be the mentor to this “na’ar.” And therefore, it
would be critical for us to know exactly what she will be teaching him and what kind of
role model she will be. And that is why the Torah is so explicit in describing her actions in
finding him, as, through those actions, we learn of her qualities and her values.
We have already observed that she is not a dispassionate bystander, but is fully engaged
in her surroundings.15 And so, after she opens the basket, she sees the baby crying and has
pity on him. But she then exclaims: He is a child of the Hebrews. We are not told how she

9. I Samuel 1:24.
10. If one now returns to the prior verse regarding Joshua and one reads the term “‫ ”נער‬as a verb, the cadence of
the verses seem to flow more smoothly: And he would then return to the camp; and his attendant, Joshua son of Nun
served (him) as his protégé; he would not stir out of the Tent.
11. Radak on I Samuel 1:25.
12. Ralbag on I Samuel 3:21 explains that Samuel showed himself to be a trustworthy prophet, such that he proph-
esied even during the lifetime of Eli (and consequently, assumed Eli’s role after his death).
13. Abarbanel (on I Samuel 1:24) brings a further parallel between the two “Na’arim” – the nursing of Samuel in
this verse and the nursing of Moshe in Exodus 2:8.
14. TB Sotah 12b.
15. A harbinger of Moshe’s future engagement with his surroundings, in that he noticed the burning bush. Note that
bushes likely burned all the time in the desert, but he was engaged enough to notice that it was not consumed.

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 Hakhmei Lev

came to this conclusion. Did she notice a Hebrew swaddling cloth? Was he unwrapped and
his brit was in evidence?16 Or, did she just surmise that he was a Hebrew because no Egyp-
tian would have a need to do this?17 Whichever way one chooses to source her declaration,
because of it, there can be no doubt that she knew he was ethnically from the Hebrew slaves.
And the fact that she was the daughter of the one who had enacted this decree against the
Hebrew male children should have mitigated her pity.
So let us anticipate what her next move should have been. If she were a good and obedient
daughter, right then and there she would have sunk the basket, thus causing the baby to
drown!18 But, not only does she not do that, she has Miriam, the handy bystander, fetch
a Hebrew nursemaid, who, as we are told, just happens to be Moshe’s birth mother.19 We
see from this, that, in addition to being a keen observer of her surroundings, she is also a
defier – one with a definite sense of morality, in her choosing to save the life of the baby.
But that is not all. As she is speaking to the nursemaid, she tells her something astonish-
ing: she will pay her wages. It is one of those details that is often overlooked in the drama
of the moment, but there it is! She, Bat Paro, could command the slave woman to do her
bidding in any manner, yet she voluntarily offers to pay her a wage. We must conclude,
then, that the text chooses to include this detail in order to outline another quality of the
princess: Her belief in social justice and her high moral character (and of course – that she
continues to be a defier!)
Resuming the story, Moshe is nursed by his natural mother and he grew – ‫ויגדל‬. The impli-
cation of that word would be that he passed through a certain stage of development. At this
point he is brought to the daughter of Paro. And once again, we may have not attended to
this detail and thus under-estimated the enormity of that statement in the Torah. This child
– whom it was evident to all was not of royal lineage – was brought to the palace.20 It would
be logical to conclude that the daughter of Paro did so in blatant disregard of her father’s
wishes. Moreover, the verse notes that she compounds the wound: She names him. And
she did not choose to name him any of the Egyptian “royal” names which were common at
that time. (The “William” or “George” of that era.) If she had done so, he could have blended

16. According to Rabbi Yosei, son of Rabbi Hanina (TB Sotah 12b) (See also: Ibn Ezra ad loc. And Rashbam, ad loc.).
17. Ramban on Exodus 2:6.
18. TB Sotah 12b. The Gemara notes that, at this juncture, her handmaidens adjure her to fulfil the king’s com-
mand. (And are summarily struck dead by the angel Gabriel.) Aderet Eliyahu supports her blamelessness in
not following her father’s edict in the following way: Paro’s decree was to throw the boys into the river. And
therefore, her declaration when naming him that she “drew him from the waters,” was, in fact, to show that
she had NOT defied her father’s edict, as Moshe had already been thrown into the river. Hence her father’s
decree had been fulfilled and she need not have thrown him in a second time.
19. Exodus 2:8.
20. Chibbah Yeteirah on Torah on Exodus 2:10. He states that Bat Paro did not hide Moshe’s origins from those in the
palace. Moreover, he connects this fact with Moshe’s subsequent self-knowledge and his consequent desire to
go out to his brothers. Additionally, as a point of interest, he asserts that Moshe grew up surrounded by com-
passionate women and violent men, and notes that it is this blend of qualities which enabled him to become
the saviour of the Jewish people. (In this way, this commentator supports my claim that Bat Paro’s character
had a significant impact on Moshe.)

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 Torah Li-Shmah

anonymously into palace life. Instead, she chose a name that would constantly represent
his Hebrew origins.21 Both of these facts (bringing him openly to the palace, and naming
him in such a way) serve to show, once again, that she is a “Royal” defier.
Within the verse under discussion, the text also notes that, “He was to her a son.”22 We might
have understood this intuitively. However, because the text notes it explicitly, it gives us
pause, and we must deem this statement’s inclusion as significant. If we consider Jewish
tradition, a son is not, of necessity, a biological reality, but it is also a concept. We are told:
‫בנים אתם לה׳ אלוקיכם‬.23 You are children to Hashem, your G-d. A child is one who walks in the ways
of his “parents” and is guided by them – whether that child contains their genetic DNA or
not.24 Moreover, this terminology connotes that she was a very involved mother who took
a direct and active interest in his upbringing. His care was not outsourced, as it was during
the nursing stage of his development. In fact, we might have expected a tutor to be found
for this time period. But, as the text shows no indication of this, we may deduce that Moshe
was under the direct tutelage of his mother, Bat Paro.
Returning now to our prior thesis, we find that the textual inclusion of the details regard-
ing Bat Paro’s actions with respect to Moshe, combined with the assertion that he was a
“son” to her, strongly alludes to the idea that Moshe internalized these values. We observe
that she is acutely aware of her surroundings. She is an initiator and not a bystander. She
has a sense of social justice and moral clarity. But most importantly, she is a defier; she will
stand up for the principles in which she believes despite her status. With these qualities
of character in mind, we can now examine the incident with the Egyptian, and Moshe’s
motivations behind his actions. And, in doing so, we will determine the true cause of his
flight from Egypt.

Part Two: Moshe’s Flight From Egypt

It is a common assumption that Moshe fled from Paro in response to his killing of the
Egyptian. However, might the story be more complex than this simple reading? If it were as
stated, then we should consider the following verses from the text sufficient for that purpose:

‫) וַ יְ ִהי ַ ּב ָ ּי ִמים ָה ֵהם וַ ִ ּי ְג ַ ּדל מ ֶֹׁשה וַ ֵ ּי ֵצא ֶאל ֶא ָחיו וַ ַ ּי ְרא ְ ּב ִס ְבל ָֹתם וַ ַ ּי ְרא ִא ׁיש ִמ ְצ ִרי ַמ ֶ ּכה ִא ׁיש ִע ְב ִרי‬11(
.‫ֵמ ֶא ָחיו‬
…‫) וַ ִ ּי ֶפן ֹּכה וָ כֹה וַ ַ ּי ְרא ִ ּכי ֵאין ִא ׁיש וַ ַ ּי ְך ֶאת ַה ִּמ ְצ ִרי וַ ִ ּי ְט ְמנֵ ה ּו ַ ּבחוֹ ל‬12(
‫) וַ ִ ּי ְׁש ַמע ּ ַפ ְרעֹה ֶאת ַה ָ ּד ָבר ַהזֶ ּה וַ יְ ַב ֵ ּק ׁש ַל ֲהרֹג ֶאת מ ֶֹׁשה וַ ִ ּי ְב ַרח מ ֶֹׁשה ִמ ּ ְפנֵ י ַפ ְרעֹה וַ ֵ ּי ֶׁשב ְ ּב ֶא ֶרץ‬15(
.‫ִמ ְדיָ ן וַ ֵ ּי ֶׁשב ַעל ַה ְ ּב ֵאר‬

21. Chizkuni on Exodus 2:10.

22. Exodus 2:10 Note also that, as we compare Samuel to Moshe, we find another point of connection: Similar to
Bat Paro’s adoption of Moshe, when Samuel’s adoptive father, Eli, calls out to him, he says, “Samuel, my son.”
(I Samuel 3:16).
23. Deuteronomy 14:1 (See also Exodus 4:22; Isaiah 1:2; Jeremiah 3:14).
24. Bereishit 18:19: ‫ ַל ֲעשׂוֹ ת ְצ ָד ָקה ו ִּמ ׁ ְש ּ ָפט‬,‫ וְ ׁ ָש ְמר ּו דֶּ ֶר ְך ה׳‬,‫ביתוֹ ַא ֲח ָריו‬-‫ת‬
ּ ֵ ‫בנָ יו וְ ֶא‬-‫ת‬
ּ ָ ‫ְל ַמ ַען ֲא ׁ ֶשר יְ ַצ ֶּוה ֶא‬

194
 Hakhmei Lev

(11) Some time after that, when Moses had grown up, he went out to his kinsfolk and witnessed
their labors. He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his kinsmen.
(12) He turned this way and that and, seeing no one about, he struck down the Egyptian and hid
him in the sand…
(15) When Pharaoh learned of the matter, he sought to kill Moses; but Moses fled from Pharaoh.
He arrived in the land of Midian, and sat down beside a well.25

However, the ellipsis within the text above indicates the omission of the second scene in
this narrative – the encounter between Moshe and the two quarrelling Jews.

.‫) וַ ֵ ּי ֵצא ַ ּב ּיוֹ ם ַה ּׁ ֵשנִ י וְ ִה ֵ ּנה ְׁשנֵ י ֲאנָ ִׁשים ִע ְב ִרים נִ ִצּים‬13(
‫אמר ִמי ָש ְׂמ ָך ְל ִא ׁיש ַשׂר וְ ׁשֹ ֵפט ָע ֵלינ ּו ַה ְלה ְׇר ֵגנִ י ַא ָּתה א ֵֹמר‬ ֶ ֹ‫ וַ ּי‬.‫אמר ָל ָר ָׁשע ָל ָּמה ַת ֶ ּכה ֵר ֶע ָך‬ ֶ ֹ‫) וַ ּי‬14(
.‫אמר ָא ֵכן נוֹ ַדע ַה ָ ּד ָבר‬ַ ֹ‫ַ ּכ ֲא ֶׁשר ָה ַר ְג ָּת ֶאת ַה ִּמ ְצ ִרי וַ ִ ּי ָירא מ ֶֹׁשה וַ ּי‬
(13) When he went out the next day, he found two Hebrews fighting; so he said to the offender,
“Why do you strike your fellow?”
(14) He retorted, “Who made you chief and ruler over us? Do you mean to kill me as you killed the
Egyptian?” Moses was frightened, and thought: Then the matter is known!26

But why is this brief episode necessary? What does it come to add? On the surface one
might postulate that it is necessary to show that Moshe’s crime of hitting the Egyptian was
known. However, it is evident that this scene was, in fact, not necessary, as in verse 15 we
read that Paro, “learned of the matter and sought to kill Moshe.” In other words, the text
makes sense even if we were to leave out this incident. Unless, of course, this vignette is
critical to the true reason Moshe had to flee.
We must therefore delve into the complete text to extricate the truth from its depths. And,
as we do so, we begin by attending to the introductory phrase, “It was in those days.”27 This
terminology indicates that this entire episode is integrally connected in some manner to
that which previously transpired. Specifically, that which was most recently mentioned is
the key to understanding what is about to happen.28 In this case, that event was Bat Paro’s
naming of Moshe so as to highlight her son’s origins as one who was pulled from the river. 29
We are urged to consider that it was that act of bestowing upon him a name of such meaning
and significance, which awoke in Moshe the realization that he was a Hebrew, and thereby
spurred him to go out and to learn of the fate of his brethren. This, of course, led to the
cascading actions which resulted in the necessity for him to flee Egypt.

25. Exodus 2:11-12,15.

26. Exodus 2:13-14.
27. Note the change from the cited translation to align with Malbim’s comment below.
28. Ramban on Exodus 2:23.
29. Malbim on Exodus 2:10.

195
 Torah Li-Shmah

However, I do not think this is the only explanation. In my estimation, the Torah is tell-
ing us so much more. Consider that the text could easily have omitted all the details we
focused on about the character of Bat Paro. The reader did not really need to know how
involved she was in finding the basket nor that she had a desire to pay her servant. Of what
relevance could those things really be, if not for helping us to understand the character of
Moshe – inasmuch as he became “her son”? Thus, I would like to conjecture that the “those
days,” to which the text refers, is not the one specific naming incident, but rather, his entire
upbringing by Bat Paro. In this manner, the text is not just linking the two proximal elements
(the “going out” and the naming) but is also linking the distal elements (Bat Paro’s raising of
Moshe as a “son” who possesses her values, and the incident of the killing of the Egyptian.)
Before proceeding with the narrative, it is necessary to pause momentarily to consider
that Moshe’s life until that time was a life of privilege within the palace.30 He “stood before
kings.”31 He would have been educated in all aspects of palace life and attained a princely
demeanour. Moreover, it would not be befitting a tender young prince to be exposed in
any manner to the devastating scenes of slavery beyond the palace gates. At this point in
his life, then, we could surmise that Moshe felt truly Egyptian, despite bearing his name,
which integrally connects him to those slaves beyond the gates.
With this understanding, we see from the text that he “grew”– ‫ ויגדל‬and he “went out”–
‫ויצא‬. If we consider the first term, we note that this word had been utilized previously in
verse 10. The repetition signals the reader to ask the question: Why the double language?
And the logical conclusion is that, in each case, Moshe went through a period of maturity
appropriate to bring him to the next stage: from infant to child, and then from child to a
more mature young man.32
However, another interpretation of “he grew” would be that he grew in responsibility
and hence, this terminology indicates that a new status was conferred upon him within
the palace.33 And it is with this understanding that we can approach the term, “he went
out.” It is important to note, also, that by virtue of the context, it is clear that he “went out”
from the palace. So therefore, were he promoted in stature he might have chosen to venture
forth in his new capacity. Moreover, reading on, we see that he went out “to his brothers.”
As noted, the simple reading would be: to see his fellow Hebrews. And, as we have seen, our
defier-princess, when naming her son, Moshe, ensured that he would be cognizant of his
relatives-by-birth, the Hebrew slaves, even had he not had any interaction with them until
this moment.34 His life in the palace had precluded their meeting, but now, with his new
status, he could not be held back. They must have been quite a curiosity for him.

30. Malbim on Exodus 2:10.

31. Sforno on Exodus 2:7; Ramban on Exodus 2:11.
32. Ramban on Exodus 2:11.
33. Rashi on Exodus 2:11 quotes Rabbi Judah the son of Eloai (from Tanchuma Yashan 2.2:17). See also Esther 3:1.
34. Malbim on Exodus 2:10.

196
 Hakhmei Lev

Despite this widely accepted claim, Ibn Ezra asserts that the first reference to “his breth-
ren” was not referring to the Hebrews, but rather, to the Egyptians. This resonates logically,
since, if Moshe had recently been promoted as a Prince of Egypt, that would be where his
allegiance would currently lie.35 In other words, although not the simple meaning of the
text, since the wording is ambiguous, we are able to entertain the possibility that the first
mention of “his brothers” may indeed refer to his Egyptian fellows.
Whereas this assertion may seem plausible, after leaving the palace, he “sees their
suffering.” It seems unequivocal that the text is now referring to the suffering of the Hebrews.
It is noteworthy though, with respect to Moshe seeing their suffering, there is a rare
grammatical construct in these words. Usually, the verb “to see” is paired with the prepos-
ition “‫את‬,” and here we find instead, its pairing with the letter “‫ “ב‬before the object that he
sees – their suffering. Ramban notes that this indicates that he did not simply see it, but he
examined it deeply.36 I would like to intensify that understanding by hypothesizing about
what motivated him to look deeper. In my estimation the use of the letter “bet” here, as a
grammatical construct, indicates that what he saw was so altogether novel and surprising
to him, that he was mesmerized into looking more closely and investigating it more thor-
oughly. To support this contention, a similar formulation can be found when Dinah, the
daughter of Jacob “goes out” to see the daughters of the city of Shechem.37

.‫וַ ֵּת ֵצא ִדינָ ה ַ ּבת ֵל ָאה ֲא ֶׁשר יָ ְל ָדה ְליַ ֲעקֹב ִל ְראוֹ ת ִ ּב ְבנוֹ ת ָה ָא ֶרץ‬
Now Dinah, the daughter whom Leah had borne to Jacob, went out to visit the daughters of the land.

Her sheltered life up until that point would certainly have caused her to look with mesmer-
izing awe at what she saw, and thus would have motivated her to investigate their lifestyle
more deeply.38 And so, Dinah and Moshe (like his mother) were people who engaged fully
with their surroundings. In a sense, each had been sheltered and when they came upon
new knowledge, it needed to be fully investigated.39
So now, as we continue with our analysis of the story, we need to explore a number of
possible options that might have occurred within the story line. When Moshe went out
to see his brethren, either he could have gone out secretly – incognito, as it were, or as a
public figure – as a full prince, with a full entourage in tow. On the face of it, it might seem
that he went out in secret, since, as he saw the Egyptian hitting the slave, he looked this

35. Ibn Ezra on Exodus 2:11. (Note that the cantillation marks do not indicate that this would be the natural under-
standing of the verse, as the flow of the verse would continue, (as the cited translation does), until after he
sees their suffering. And his “Egyptian brothers” were certainly not the ones who were suffering.)
36. Ramban on Exodus 2:11.
37. Genesis 34:1.
38. HaKtav VeHaKabalah on Genesis 34:1.
39. And, in furtherance of the corollary, it can be noted that this delving further subsequently led them each down
a dangerous path. The distinction, of course, being that Dena was taken advantage of by those who made poor
moral choices, whereas Moshe, when confronted with a moral choice, acted with propriety, consequently pla-
cing himself in danger.

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 Torah Li-Shmah

way and that and saw no one, and then hid the body in the sand after killing him. In other
words, in this understanding of the narrative the scene plays itself out in some back alley.
However, there is one flaw with this scenario: If Moshe were incognito, then the quarrelling
Hebrews would not have known it was him, for even the slave whom Moshe saved would
not have been able to identify him.
Therefore, I postulate that it could only be that Moshe went out publicly, in his princely
robes. And if so, he would not need to furtively look about before killing the Egyptian, as
no one would think twice if he did so; it was his princely prerogative. Therefore, we must
ask: what does the text intend when it tells us that he looked this way and that and saw
no man? For, if a royal entourage is in the vicinity, then certainly there are many people
around. Moreover, if he killed the Egyptian, it is conceivable that the Jewish slaves would
immediately lift him upon their shoulders and celebrate him as their saviour. So how do
we account for the antagonism towards Moshe we see displayed by the two quarrelling
Jews? We must therefore seek a unifying theory of what transpired in order to dispel these
potential discrepancies.
Probing the text further we find that verse 11 may hold the key. In it, there is no mention
of Moshe disguising himself as he goes out to see his brethren, as we might expect the text
to tell us if he had done so. Combining this with the fact that the text does tell us later that
the two slaves know about the killing the next day, seems to indicate that he actually did
go out in regal attire. It is important to note at this juncture that he did not anticipate that
he was going to be doing any killing; he simply wanted to observe. So why not wear his
royal apparel?
Reflecting upon this verse, another observation one might make is the double mention of
‫“ – אחיו‬his brothers.” If we accept the postulate that the first “brothers” of the verse were his
Egyptian brothers, from the context of the verse, after seeing their suffering, the “brother”
being hit by the taskmaster was most definitely one of his Hebrew brethren. Although this
seems confusing, I would contend that the text used the same word (without clarification)
purposefully. As we, the readers are confused, so too was Moshe. He was uncertain as to
where his allegiance should lie. Who were his “real” brothers?
Of note, also, is that he was a youth.40 Early adulthood is a time of upheaval for most young
people. But we can conjecture that it would be especially so for a person torn between his
two heritages. The angst he must have felt as this battle raged within him would have been
enormous. And it would have come to a head at the moment when he saw the taskmaster
hitting the slave. The evidence for this theory can be seen in the next verse, where it describes
him as looking this way and that. This wording may be a way for the text to inform us that
he was weighing his options and attempting to make a decision.41

40. Moshe was between the ages of 12 and 20 at the time of these events (Ramban on Exodus 2:23).
41. Consider the scene in Fiddler on the Roof, when Tevye is debating whether to let his eldest daughter marry the
tailor: On the one hand, she loves him …but on the other hand, he is a poor tailor …but on the other hand, look
at the way she looks at him …but on the other hand…

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Moreover, evidence for this internal conflict can also be found in the next phrase: he
saw there was “no man.” The simple meaning would indicate that no physical person was
present. But, as indicated previously, this was not very likely, both because he was a prince,
and because people did seem to know about the event afterwards.
To resolve this conundrum, we may note that sometimes in the text, the word ‫ איש‬refers
to an important person.42 And that would make sense in this scenario. Moshe was a prince;
there likely would not have been anyone higher in rank than him in the immediate vicinity.
Maybe there were many Jews around, which would explain how the two quarrelling slaves
knew of his deed the next day. But, by definition, none of these slaves could be categorized
as ‫איש‬. Furthermore, even the Egyptian taskmaster’s rank would not rise to the level of
that designation. Moshe was therefore not fearful and did kill him. And, as noted previ-
ously: it was his princely prerogative to do so. This reasoning might be sound. However, we
still have the problem of why he felt he needed to run away on the second day – after the
incident with the two slaves. If he were immune from culpability based on his sovereign
status, then it should not matter to Paro whether the news was told to him on that very
day or a day or two later.
To assist in answering this problem, I propose a different explanation for the word ‫איש‬. If we
look elsewhere in the Torah where this word is used, it can give us clues to its meaning here.
For example, as Yosef goes to find his brothers, and fails, he comes across a man, an ‫איש‬.

ְּ ‫וַ ִ ּי ְמ ָצ ֵאה ּו ִא ׁיש וְ ִה ֵ ּנה ת ֶֹעה ַ ּב ּ ָשׂ ֶדה וַ ִ ּי ׁ ְש ָא ֵלה ּו ָה ִא ׁיש ֵלאמֹר ַמ‬
.‫ה־ת ַב ֵ ּק ׁש‬
A man came upon him wandering in the fields. The man asked him, “What are you looking for?”43

On this verse, Ramban explains that Hashem arranged a guide for Yosef.44 That anonymous
“man,” was actually tasked with showing him the way to find his brothers. An additional
support for this concept of ‫ איש‬was Moshe himself. Later in his life, when he had not come
down from receiving the ten commandments at the appointed time, the nation cried out
to Aaron:

‫ה־לנ ּו ֱאל ִֹהים ֲא ׁ ֶשר יֵ ְלכ ּו ְל ָפנֵ ינ ּו ִ ּכי־זֶ ה מ ׁ ֶֹשה ָה ִא ׁיש ֲא ׁ ֶשר ֶה ֱע ָלנ ּו ֵמ ֶא ֶרץ ִמ ְצ ַריִ ם ל ֹא יָ ַד ְענו‬
ָ ׂ‫קוּם ֲע ֵש‬
. ֹ‫ה־היָ ה לו‬
ָ ‫ֶמ‬
Come, make us a god who shall go before us, for that man Moses, who brought us from the land
of Egypt—we do not know what has happened to him.45

42. Gur Aryeh on Exodus 2:13 and Numbers 13:3. Furthermore, he notes here that the two striving Hebrews that
Moshe encounters are Datan and Aviram, evil men who would report Moshe’s deed to Paro. (See also Rashi on
Exodus 2:13 and Shemot Rabbah 1:29.)
43. Genesis 37:15.
44. Ramban on Genesis 37:15.
45. Exodus 32:1.

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Ramban is consistent and explains this instance of the word in the same way as he did for
the story of Yosef: The term ‫ איש‬means a guide.46
So we see that a very good case could be made for saying that the conflicted Moshe was
looking for someone to guide him, but could find no one. Like his mother, he makes his own
decision, based on the principles of justice that he has learned from her: he kills the Egyptian.
Here, then, we arrive at the crux of the matter. We would expect Moshe to flee after killing
the Egyptian! But he doesn’t. We have attributed his lack of flight at this juncture in the
story to his royal status. However, would his “immunity” not also extend to the second day’s
events? We must now figure out why he would feel secure enough to remain after this first
incident, but feel a need to flee after his interaction with the two slaves.
Thus, we return to the concept of the princely prerogative. We can envision that the king
would want his prince to assert his dominance. In this scenario, what is one dead taskmaster
to a king? He likely had thousands! So even if Moshe would come home and tell his “father”
that he killed someone – even a taskmaster – his father (or, in this case, grandfather), the
king, would likely applaud the decisive action.
But what evidence was there that he actually did return home to the palace? For that we
will have to recall one of the techniques we came across earlier. Remember when the text
repeated “he grew” twice in close succession and we noted that one way of explaining this
repetition was that it meant two periods of growth?
Similarly, here we consider the term “vayeitze” – he went out. Occurring twice within
such close textual proximity, we can only extrapolate that it is an indicator of a repeating
situation.47 He went out. Again. Furthermore, to solidify our theory, the text, in this subse-
quent instance, states that he went out “on the second day.” He spent a full day in the place
to which he had returned. And he went out again on the second day from the same place
he went out from on the first day – from the palace.
In other words, he went home after he killed the Egyptian. Should I say that again? He
went home! And the only way he could do that is by invoking his princely prerogative. His
father, the king, did not want to kill him after his deed, but might actually have been proud
of him – or at the very least, would have forgiven him. This prince was showing initiative.
Exercising his power. Maybe he would need some guidance, the king might have thought.
But it is something we can work with when grooming the offspring for royal service.
And so it was only on “day two,” after the incident with the two Hebrews, that the king
sought to kill Moshe. Why?
We see that, once again, as he had with the taskmaster, following in Bat Paro’s footsteps,
Moshe chose to engage rather than stand idly by. He sought justice, as she did. And, in that
a quarrel between two slaves is not within the purview of a prince, he defies the status quo,
and acts in both instances without regard to consequences.

46. Ramban on Exodus 32:1.

47. Exodus 2:11 and Exodus 2:13.

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 Hakhmei Lev

During this second incident, he questions the one Hebrew slave. In response, the slave
asks Moshe if he will kill him too. Such a reply would only make logical sense if Moshe were
standing before him still attired in his princely garments, and still manifesting his “right”
as a prince to execute justice in whatever manner he deemed acceptable. Had Moshe been
a fugitive running from Paro, the Hebrew would not ask such a question. More likely, he
would have shown gratitude for Moshe’s prior action, and maybe even tried to help his
“brother” escape. However, the Hebrew before him did not know of Moshe’s inner turmoil.
And therefore would assume Moshe to be as he appeared – a royal prince of Egypt.
Regarding Moshe’s thinking, Sforno explains that Moshe never intended to physically
intervene in the conflict between the slaves. Because they were his brothers, his only inten-
tion was to chastise them verbally.48 Alternately, almost ironically, according to his princely
prerogative “carte blanche,” had he actually killed the slave, (ostensibly on the pretext that
he was annoying him with his remark) then he would have been able to return to the palace
and all would be well; not one of Paro’s regal eyebrows would be raised. But Moshe’s innate
morality would not allow for this unethical sovereign overreach.
And so, it is at this exact dramatic moment that the text recounts for us that Moshe was
afraid. Not the previous day, when he killed the taskmaster. Not when he went back to the
palace, slept, woke up and left again. Only now. Why?
I would submit that it was the terminology of the question asked of him by the Hebrew
that sparked fear in Moshe: Would you kill me as you did the Egyptian? Unknowingly this
formulation, comparing the actual killing of the Egyptian with the potential killing of the
Hebrew, was the prompt that triggered within Moshe an understanding of where his true
allegiance lay. He would not kill the slave, his brother – the Hebrew – as he had the task-
master – the Egyptian. Concurrently, he understood that Paro would see the discrepancy in
his actions. Paro would discern that Moshe was willing to kill an Egyptian of higher status.
But not a lowly slave who had addressed the ruler with impudence. And in so doing, this
slave was rightly deserving of punishment as an example to others as to how to respect
the monarchy. The differential response by Moshe to the two situations would send up red
flags for Paro, and accordingly, Moshe would be deemed a traitor.
Despite the assertion that it is only the juxtaposition of the two scenarios and Moshe’s
selective election to execute imperial justice in one and not the other that will draw the
attention of Paro, an astute reader will have a rebuttal to this claim, arguing that the very
next phrase shows that Moshe was afraid, when he remarks, “for now the thing is known.”
The simple reading, as we postulated at the outset of this essay is that “the thing” that was
known was the killing of the Egyptian. However, if so, then why did the text not explicitly
tell us that Paro knew about the killing of the Egyptian? Why this ambiguous language?
But what if we could see how the phrase “‫“ – ”נודע הדבר‬the thing was known” – is applied
uniquely to certain similar situations in Tanach? Would we then be convinced that it was

48. Sforno on Exodus 2:13.

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not the murder of the Egyptian that caused Paro’s anger, but rather his realization that
Moshe was a traitor? For, in other similar cases in Tanach where this terminology is used
it is referencing a traitorous conspiracy.49
Our first textual support for this theory occurs in I Samuel, chapter 20, where we find
the story of Jonathan, son of Saul, who, out of love for David, conspires against his father
to save David’s life. He and David had pre-arranged a sign involving Jonathan’s attendant,
who was to retrieve the arrows Jonathan had shot in a certain manner. The text confirms:

ַ ‫וְ ַה ַ ּנ ַער ל ֹא־יָ ַדע ְמאו ָּמה ַא ְך יְ הוֹ נָ ָתן וְ ָדוִ ד יָ ְדע ּו ֶא‬
.‫ת־הדָּ ָבר‬
The boy suspected nothing; only Jonathan and David knew the arrangement.50

This is certainly conspiratorial language. And it utilizes the same phraseology in the Hebrew
text as we see in the text with respect to Moshe: they “knew of the thing.”51
A second example of this terminology can be seen in the story of Esther. As Mordechai
sat at the palace gate, he overheard the traitorous plot by Bigtan and Teresh to take the
king’s life. And, as you might have surmised, the wording there is already familiar to us:

.‫ֹאמר ֶא ְס ֵּתר ַל ֶּמ ֶל ְך ְ ּב ׁ ֵשם מ ְׇרדֳּ ָכי‬

ֶ ‫וַ ִ ּי ָּו ַדע ַהדָּ ָבר ְלמ ְׇרדֳּ ַכי וַ ַ ּי ֵ ּגד ְל ֶא ְס ֵּתר ַה ַּמ ְל ָ ּכה וַ ּת‬
Mordecai learned of it and told it to Queen Esther, and Esther reported it to the king in Mordecai’s
name.52

The text does not say that he overheard them, or any form of that word. Rather, the text
uses the same two key words in the Book of Esther as it does in our story.53
With this understanding of the terminology “the thing was known” as being a reference
to a traitorous act, we can now see how the second scene of Moshe with the two quarrel-
ling Hebrews is integral to Moshe’s fear and his subsequent understanding of his need to
flee. He understands that it is only now, when Paro sees the contrast between these two
cases the king will realize that, in Moshe’s weighing of the options, he has NOT chosen to
be a Prince of Egypt, but has, instead, cast his lot with the lowly Hebrew slaves. In other
words, Paro will deem Moshe to be a traitor, and traitors cannot be countenanced; they
must be put to death. This would not necessarily be so if a prince of Egypt had killed one
inconsequential taskmaster.

49. Moreover, as noted at the outset of this section, if it were only the murder of the Egyptian that necessitated
Moshe’s flight, we would not need to hear about the second incident between the Hebrews at all.
50. I Samuel 20:35.
51. “Arrangement” is an interpretation of the word “davar.”
52. Esther 2:22.
53. Once again, the English translation is imprecise. It should read, “The thing was known to Mordechai.”

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 Hakhmei Lev

Conclusion
Moshe’s handling of the two situations which are the impetus for his flight from Egypt can
only be understood through the lens of his upbringing. The details that were given in the
Torah about Bat Paro and her actions serve to give the reader insight into her character. It
becomes evident that these traits she then inculcates in “her son,” Moshe. Through this know-
ledge, we have a better understanding of why Moshe, a keen observer of his surroundings,
attended to both of these seemingly trivial events. We understand that his sense of justice
would dictate that he become involved, and ultimately kill the Egyptian. And furthermore,
we grasp why he would seek to counsel the two sparring Hebrews. We can recognize that
Moshe’s inherent sense of right and wrong will take precedence over any royal status he
may have and compel him to defy the king.
With this understanding as a background, we return to our central question. We find,
therefore, that it was not Moshe’s killing of the Egyptian that caused him to flee from Egypt.
Using the notion of a “princely prerogative,” we were able to explain the inconsistencies
within the text. Through this lens we understand that the second story of the two quar-
relling Hebrews was as essential as that of the first, the killing of the taskmaster, in the
reasoning behind Moshe’s flight from Egypt. For it was only the contrast between them that
would cause Paro to recognize that Moshe was a traitor who needed to be eliminated. And
it was Moshe’s realization of this fact, as he stood before the two quarrelling Hebrews, that
caused fear to arise within him, necessitating his pre-emptive flight from the wrath of Paro.

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Korach Was His Son:

Intergenerational Inherent Value
ariella markus

In Parshat Vayeitzei, Yaakov dreams of angels ascending and descending a ladder.

The Torah describes Yaakov arriving at this location in a peculiar way – “vayifga bamakom”
(Bereishit 28:11). The word “vayifga” is commonly translated as “he encountered the place.” In
the rest of the Torah, however, the word “vayifga” certainly does not mean “to encounter”;
it actually comes from a three-letter root word (‫ע‬.‫ג‬.‫ )פ‬which means “injury”!
So why is it translated in this way, in this particular parsha? And how does this relate
to Pesach?
In order to find the answer, we need to look at what comes next in the narrative. When
Yaakov awakens from his dream, he is shocked to find out that he has been sleeping on
holy ground. He exclaims, “!‫”א ֵכן יֵ ש ה׳ ַ ּב ָמקוֹ ם ַהזֶ ה ואנכי ל ֹֹא יָ ָד ְּע ִתי‬
ָ “Behold, Hashem is in this place,
and I didn’t know!”
The word “Behold” – a common translation of the Hebrew word “Akhen” – could have
been left out of the pasuk entirely; the individual words and the overall meaning would
have remained intact. So, knowing that the Torah does not ever waste words, we have to
wonder: why is this word included?
The word “Akhen” serves as a reference. It points us in the direction of the only other time
in the Torah that this word is used – when Moshe is about to run away from Egypt. Moshe,
who kills an Egyptian man while defending a Jewish slave, realizes that his actions are no
longer a secret. He says “Behold, the matter is known!”
It is possible to say that Moshe was simply expressing concern at the fact that people had
discovered what he had done. It is also possible to say that Yaakov was expressing surprise
upon learning that Hashem had designated this particular location as a place of concentrated
holiness. However, that does not change the fact that Hashem is in every place, and Hashem
is aware of everything – even events of which no human beings are aware. Neither of these
facts should require a shocked “Behold!” as a preface – especially coming from tzadikkim

ARIELLA MARKUS is a Jewish educator. She is currently pursuing a masters degree in Interdisciplinary Studies,
focusing on the ways in which Tefillah experiences may change for girls before and after their Bat Mitzvah.

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 Hakhmei Lev

such as Yaakov and Moshe. There must be something else that can be learned here, and to
do so we must return to Yaakov’s story.
“Makom” doesn’t just mean “place” – it is also a way to refer to Hashem. “Vayifga BaMakom”!
Going back to the literal translation of ‫ע‬.‫ג‬.‫ – פ‬does Hashem have the capacity to get hurt? I
would posit that Hashem can be hurt when we forget that Hashem is in every place – and
inside of every person. The following three scenarios can serve as a guide for finding the
G-dliness that is inside of each person:
1. When the Torah discusses the “wayward and rebellious son,” it includes so many descrip-
tions and caveats that no child could ever fit the description and receive the requisite
punishment. This sends the message that no one is unreachable, and no child is unworthy
of compassion.
2. In Divrei HaYamim, genealogical lists abound. It is significant to note that Korach was
named and claimed as a member of the tribe of Kehat. Despite his attempt to instigate
a rebellion, he is still counted as a member of Levi’s family – the same family to which
Moshe belongs, and the same family of which Yaakov is an ancestor.
3. When Bnei Yisrael crossed the Yam Suf and rejoiced in their new-found freedom, Hashem
did not allow the angels to celebrate. The Egyptians were drowning, and they, too, were
Hashem’s creations. This relates to the custom of removing drops of wine from our cup
during the Seder. We want to express that our happiness cannot be complete as long as
other people are suffering – even if those people are our enemies.
Every person has inherent value, and matters to Hashem on an individual and collective
level. It is our responsibility to incorporate this paradigm into our own lives, this Pesach
and beyond.

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Yosef ’s Plan
rabbi chaim metzger

“The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / oft gone awry.”1
“Man plans and G-d laughs.”2

Yosef is the man with a plan. He develops an ingenious fiscal policy that saves Egypt from
the seven years of famine, and ensures its smooth application. He handles the Egyptians’
panic and provides for them during the famine and even secures enough seeds to allow
the continuation of agriculture successfully afterwards. He solidifies the people’s loyalty to
Pharaoh, and introduces reasonable taxes that everyone agrees to.3 Yosef, Tzafnat Paneach,
the vizier over Egypt, seems to have it all figured out.
Until his brothers arrive.
Memories of a different life come flooding back. His hateful brothers throwing him into
a pit. Being sold into slavery. The long journey by caravan down to Egypt. Being framed by
his master’s wife. Sitting and rotting in jail for years. Suddenly, he sees his youthful dream
of having his brothers bow down to him fulfilled, but somehow he feels empty.
It’s been 20 years, but Yosef can’t simply let it go. He designs a method to measure his
brothers’ worthiness, to decide whether to kill them or save them.4 He accuses them of being
spies in order to test them, to see if they are now men of their words, if they are worthy of
his forgiveness. To see if they are better men now than the unfeeling slavers he once knew,
who sat down to eat while he was trapped in a pit.
When he hears or sees his brothers making amends – he cries, overcome with emotion.5
He wonders to himself, is it really worth it to put my brothers through all of this?6

1. Robert Burns, “To a Mouse.”

2. “Mann Tracht, Und Gott Lacht” is an old Yiddish saying.
3. Bereishit 47:13-26.
4. Abarbanel on Bereishit 42:7.
5. See Bereishit.
6. This is my own conjecture.

CHAIM METZGER is the Rabbinic Assistant at the BAYT in addition to being an Avreich at Beit Midrash Zichron
Dov. He is a YU musmakh, with a Bachelor’s Degree in Physics and Mathematics, and a Master’s Degree in
Mathematics and Bible. Rabbi Metzger, his wife Shira and daughter Talya live in Alon Shvut, Israel, and are
on shlichut in Toronto after having spent the previous three years at Yeshivat Har Etzion in the Kollel Gavoah.

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 Hakhmei Lev

After he releases them from jail and Reuven states that this is all because they abandoned
Yosef, Yosef turns away to cry.7
When Binyamin arrives, Yosef almost breaks down crying, escapes to a side room to wash
his face so no one will notice. Then he gathers himself and regains his composure, vaYitapak.8
But when Yehuda defends Binyamin and offers his life instead, Yosef can no longer control
his emotions, viLo yachol Yosef leHitapek. He can no longer maintain the ruse. He reveals himself
to his brothers. “I am Yosef, is my father still alive?” What follows is a deeply moving and
emotional reunion with some obvious complications due to their messy past.9
Some elements don’t quite fit: why did Yosef insist that all of the Egyptians leave the room
beforehand?10 While it may be that Yosef simply wanted some privacy, I believe there may
be another reason. Even when Yosef kicks the Egyptians out, they figuratively all stand with
their ears to the door and find out everything anyway.11 So why did Yosef kick them out to
begin with? Why did Yosef try to distance himself from his brothers? Why did Yosef put a
translator between himself and his brothers?12
What would Yosef have done if he had been able to hold himself back? What actually
was Yosef’s initial plan?
My key to unlocking Yosef’s plan is the following hypothesis: Yosef initially never intended
to reveal himself to his brothers. Yosef planned on concealing his identity forever, ultimately
erasing himself from Jewish history and Bnei Yisrael for the greater good of Bnei Yisrael, all
the while protecting his family from the shadows. Yosef would sacrifice himself – losing
his family, his name in history, and opportunity to return to Eretz Yisrael, almost a form of
martyrdom.
Continuing with the theory, at first his plan was to determine if his family deserved
redemption. As he saw the brothers prove themselves time after time, he wanted to protect
his family from behind the scenes and cut himself out of Bnei Yisrael. Yosef planned to martyr
himself in Egypt for the betterment of the collective. Yosef was fully prepared to simply
fade into history as Tzafnat Paneach. Why? Because he knew full well that once Pharaoh
knew that the brothers were related to Yosef, his supremely capable vizier and chief finance
minister, Pharaoh would never let the brothers leave. It would have become difficult, if not
impossible, for Yosef’s family to leave Egypt. This may be seen in the Talmud’s description
of Pharaoh’s reluctance to even allow Yosef to leave Egypt temporarily, for his father’s
burial.13 Pharaoh would try to conscript them as generals or have them serve as ministers
or in other positions of power. Pharaoh may have even heard rumors of Shimon and Levi’s
trickery and slaughter of Shechem, only further whetting his appetite for brilliant generals.

7. Bereishit 42:24.
8. Ibid, 43:29-31.
9. Ibid, 45:1-3.
10. Ibid, 45:1.
11. Ibid, 45:2.
12. Ibid, 42:23.
13. Sotah 36b.

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Ultimately Yosef’s grand plan failed because Yosef lost control of his emotions. He was
unable to retain the facade of being the cruel and ruthless prime minister, incapable of
holding back his emotions for the sake of his plan. As a consequence, Egypt finds out that
Yaakov and his sons are Yosef’s family.
But Yosef has a backup plan! The new backup plan is to protect and separate Bnei Yisrael
so they can easily return to Eretz Yisrael. Cognizant of the psyche of Egypt and Pharaoh, Yosef
gives very explicit directions to his brothers about how to present themselves before Pharaoh
in Vayigash,14 to emphasize their limitation of only being shepherds, a detestable profession
in the eyes of the Egyptians, and emphasizing that they want to live separately in Goshen.
Indeed, Yosef knows that Pharaoh will desperately attempt to recruit the brothers into the
army, and therefore selects only the five weakest of the brothers to appear before Pharaoh.15
With these stratagems, the Jews might just be separate enough to eventually slip away and
leave after Yosef’s death. Yosef knew that the Egyptians had a deep-seated hatred for the
Jewish people and considered even the act of sharing a meal with them an abomination.16
However, Yosef’s backup plan also fails! Yaakov and Bnei Yisrael become so integrated
into Egypt that Yaakov gets the full embalming burial rights that are typically reserved for
royalty and is mourned by all of Egypt for thirty days.17 Rashi says that the Egyptians went
up for Yaakov’s burial to honor Yaakov, but others say it was to make sure that Bnei Yisrael
didn’t run away to Eretz Yisrael.18
This leads to Bnei Yisrael being stuck in Egypt, all because Yosef’s carefully laid plans fell
apart. While one may say Yosef failed, by losing control of his feelings Yosef saved himself
and his children from being cut off and lost from Bnei Yisrael. Yosef’s plan was brilliant,
and might have saved Bnei Yisrael from slavery. In the end, though, Bnei Yisrael could not
continue on without him, and Yosef could not continue without them. Bnei Yisrael’s time in
Egypt may have been bitter, but through Yosef’s testing of his brothers he ultimately not
only found redemption for them, he found redemption for himself.

Epilogue
After Yaakov Avinu passes away and is buried, the brothers are certain that Yosef will harbor
resentment against them for all that they have done to him.19 Then Yosef’s brothers lie to
him, saying that Yaakov asked Yosef to forgive them before he died. 20 They are so afraid
they fall down, begging on their knees to be taken as slaves. 21 Yosef cries as they speak

14. Bereishit 46:31-34.

15. Ibid, and see Rashi there.
16. For other reasons see Toronto Torah Vayigash 5781.
17. Bereishit 50:3.
18. Rabbi Yehuda Ben Eliezer, a 14th century Tosafist on Bereshit 50:14.
19. Bereishit 50:15.
20. Ibid, 50:16-17.
21. Ibid, 50:18.

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to him,22 perhaps realizing just how sorry and fearful they were and how far apart from
him his brothers still felt. Yosef calms them, tells them they have nothing to fear, for he is
notG-d.23 “You may have conspired and acted wickedly, but G-d transformed your misdeed
into something good and used it to allow for a great and plentiful nation to be saved.24 Now
there is no need to be afraid because I will support you and your children.” Yosef comforts
them and speaks to their hearts. 25 26
Yosef can properly look back and see the Hand of G-d guiding all of the events that led
up to this final moment and appreciate that everything is from G-d. Yosef the mastermind,
vizier extraordinaire, knows how to plan but most of all he knows that G-d’s plan guides
us to where we are meant to be.

Summary
The only way to save Bnei Yisrael from being stuck in Egypt is for Yosef to remain in Egypt,
secretly protecting them until the day he dies, martyring himself, with no one the wiser.
This selfless plan never comes to fruition because Yosef’s emotions force him back onto
the path of being a Jewish leader, and we merit to have him and his descendants as part of
Bnei Yisrael. Ultimately, Yosef realizes everything works out the way it is supposed to with
G-d’s help and providence.

22. Ibid, 50:17.

23. Ibid, 50:19.
24. Ibid, 50:20.
25. Ibid, 50:21.
26. For more on how Yosef did this, listen to Toronto Torah’s Podcast Vayechi 5782.

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Purim’s Hidden Agenda

rabbi a.z. thau

Sometimes when we approach Purim, we feel we have no new thoughts or insights to

distinguish this year’s Purim from any of our Purims of previous years. I would like to offer
a new perspective to Purim that will hopefully enhance our experience for years to come.
There is a concept known as nistar, being hidden, which is very apropos when discussing
Purim and the Megillah. Usually, we think of the link between nistar and Purim in the
context of costumes, which disguise or hide our identities, and the absence of Hashem’s
name in the Megillah. However, I would like to offer a different approach to the concept of
nistar as it relates to why we don’t recite Hallel on Purim.
While discussing when Hallel should be recited, the Gemara in both Megillah (14a) and
Arakhin (10b) asks why we do not recite Hallel on Purim despite the fact that Purim is a
commemoration of the Jews being saved throughout the Persian Empire. In both places,
the Gemara offers three answers. The first answer, recorded anonymously in Megillah and
sourced to Rabbi Yitzchak in Arakhin, posits that such salvations merit the recitation of
Hallel only if they occur within the confines of Israel, whereas Purim primarily happened
in Shushan. Rav Nahman Bar Yitzchak challenges this position by noting that we recite
Hallel on Pesach even though the miracle occurred in Egypt. The Gemara defends Rabbi
Yitzchak’s position by stating that the rules of where miracles merit Hallel changed after
the land of Israel was sanctified during the conquest that began forty years after Yetziat
Mitzrayim. Rav Nahman1 gives a second answer, explaining that the reading of the Megillah
is a fulfillment of the recitation of Hallel. In his words, “Kriyata Zu Halila – [the Megillah’s]
reading is its [Purim’s] praise.”2 Rava gives a third answer, explaining that the salvation of

1. Usually, when the Gemara cites Rav Nahman without any qualifiers, it is Rav Nahman Bar Yaakov. However,
it is unclear if in this instance it is Rav Nahman Bar Yaakov or Rav Nahman Bar Yitzchak (who challenged the
position of Rabbi Yitzchak). Rava, who gives the third answer, is a Talmid of Rav Nahman Bar Yaakov and the
teacher of Rav Nahman Bar Yitzchak.
2. The Gemara is playing off of the linguistic similarity between halila and Hallel.

 aised in West Hempstead, New York, AVRAHAM ZVI (A.Z.) THAU is a graduate of DRS Yeshiva High School
R
and studied at Yeshivat Hakotel for 10 years. While in Hakotel he made Aliyah, joined its Hesder program,
serving in the IDF’s Shiryon (tank corps) unit and served in several positions for the overseas students, and
Jerusalem Chapter Director of NCSY Israel. Rabbi Thau received his B.A. in Business and Management from
Jerusalem College of Technology (Machon Lev) and his rabbinical ordination from World Mizrachi.

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 Hakhmei Lev

Purim was incomplete and therefore does not necessitate the recitation of Hallel, as the
narrative did not finish with the Jews acquiring sovereignty and being subjects solely to
Hashem but as subjects of the Persian Empire.
Rabbi Yosef Zvi Rimon offers a different explanation.3 He suggests that in reality, Hallel is
not appropriate for Purim. The recitation of Hallel is intended for open and revealed miracles
(nigleh). Therefore, reciting Hallel on Purim, which is about G-d’s hidden involvement in the
world (nistar), is not the right response. On the other hand, when it comes to Hanukah, Hallel
would be completely appropriate. Hanukah is described in Al Hanisim as “V’ Kavu shemonat
Yimei Hanukah eilu Lehodot U-Lehallel L’shimkha Ha-gadol.” Moreover, the Rambam refers to the
days of Hanukah as “yimei simkha vi-hallel” and days that are “Lehodot U-lehallel,” days that are
meant for praising Hashem through prayer and thanks.

The Theme of Nistar in the Megillah

Through reading and studying the Megillah, one will discover the hidden miracles that
took place. This is precisely the correct goal of Purim. This fits nicely with Rav Nahman’s
approach that reciting Hallel and reading the Megillah are fundamentally similar. Both
are ways in which we acknowledge Hashem’s involvement in the world and thank Him for
intervening to save the Jewish people. Both Hallel, where we express our thanks and love
to Hashem in a very overt way and the Megillah where we read about the hidden miracles
and where we search for Hashem in the story are forms of halila, praise to Hashem, however
they differ only in what type of miracle they address. Overt miracles such as the splitting
of the sea and the ten plagues are impossible to miss Hashem’s direct hand in those stor-
ies. The entire Holiday of Pesach is describing the open miracles to the extent where the
Haggadah tries to count the number of miracles that occurred even just by the Kriyat Yam
Suf. Hanukkah as well as described in Al Hanisim lists just how unlikely it was for the
Maccabees to overcome their Seleucid Greek oppressors. Hashem handed the many into
the hand of the few and the mighty into the hands of the weak. For miracles that are overt
and revealed such as these, we can not simply say thank you in a roundabout fashion, we
must declare it and even sing it out loud! But for Purim, where it is unclear where Hashem’s
presence was, what specific miracle occurred, then we need a different response. We need
something more subtle like reading the Megillah.
When codifying the halakhah, the Shulhan Arukh states that Hallel is not recited on Purim,
without giving any explanation.4 The Magen Avraham,5 Arukh Ha-Shulhan,6 and Mishnah
Berurah7 provide Rava’s explanation that we don’t recite Hallel because unfortunately, we

3. R. Yosef Zvi Rimon, Halachah Mi-M’korah (Koren, 2016), 191.

4. Ohr Ha-Hayim 693:3. However, In his work, Beit Yosef, he quotes both Rav Nahman’s and Rava’s opinions.
5. 693:2.
6. Ohr Ha-Hayim 693:4.
7. Mishna Berurah 693:7.

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were still ovdei Ahashveirosh (servants of Ahashveirosh), and not fully ovdei Hashem. Therefore,
reciting Hallel would not be the proper response.

The View of Meiri

Several years ago, I wanted to search into the practicality of saying Hallel according to
Meiri’s view.

‫דבר ידוע הוא שאין אומרי׳ הלל בפורים אבל טעם מניעתו נחלקו עליו בגמ׳ והוא שאחד מהם‬
‫אמר שקריאתה זו היא הלולא ונראה לי לטעם זה שאם היה במקום שאין לו מגלה שקורא את‬
.‫ההלל שהרי לא נמנעה קריאתו אלא מפני שקריאת המגלה במקומו‬
It is known that we do not say Hallel on Purim, however the reason for not saying it is debated
in the Gemara. One of the reasons given is that the recital of the Megillah is as if you had said
Hallel [and] reading the Megillah is in place of reciting Hallel. According to me, according to this
reason that if one were to be in a place that did not have a Megillah he would say Hallel, because
we only do not recite Hallel because the Megillah is read in its stead (therefore if there would be
no Megillah one would say Hallel).8

If one didn’t have a Megillah with them on Purim or if one was unable to hear the Megillah,
should one say Hallel like the Meiri suggested? For example, a soldier on guard duty who
won’t finish their shift until it is no longer possible to hear the Megillah that night or that
day? What about during Covid where often people find themselves in quarantine and poten-
tially even in an unfamiliar country, and no one is around to come and read the Megillah
for you. Perhaps some could be traveling and their car breaks down and won’t make it back
in time for Megillah reading. What should they do? Should they say Hallel? Or to Hallel or
not to Hallel, that is the question. If they should, would one say a brakha or not? While
living in Yerushalayim, I had the privilege of asking several prominent Rabbis, on differ-
ent occasions, this very question. Rabbi Avigdor Nebenzahl, Rabbi Asher Weiss, and Rabbi
Yosef Zvi Rimon all concurred that one without the means to hear the Megillah would, in
fact, recite Hallel without a brakha. The reasoning being, if the conclusion of the Gemara
is that we follow Rav Nahman’s answer that kriyata zu halila, then if there is no Megillah
to be heard and or read then the natural replacement is the very Hallel which is usually
replaced by the Megillah! However, it said without the brakhah, because Hazal (our Sages)
are very careful regarding saying a brakhah livatala (a wasteful blessing). Because there is
doubt if Rav Nahman’s explanation is the main answer from that section, it is better to be
cautious and avoid making an extra blessing in this case.
After addressing the technical and halakhic side of the story, we are still left with several
fundamental questions regarding the esoteric side of this story. After all is said and done,
what is the nature of Purim and the theme of Megillat Esther? If the Megillah is instead of
Hallel, then we need to understand what Is so special and unique about it? To enable us

8. Meiri, Beit Ha-Behirah, Megillah 14a.

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 Hakhmei Lev

to tackle this question then we need to preempt it with another question; Is the story of
Purim a cause for unrestrained celebration or is it a cautionary tale which should command
our sober attention? The answer is both. The Rav, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, sensitive to
dialectics that often emerges within halakhah, expounds on the inherent duality of Megillat
Esther and the holiday of Purim in general. In discussing the requirement of reading the
Megillah twice, once on the evening of Purim and then again, the following morning, the
Gemara (Megillah 4a) cites two prooftexts:

‫ שנאמר “דאלקי‬,‫ חייב אדם לקרות את המגילה בלילה ולשנותה ביום‬:‫ואמר רבי יהושע בן לוי‬
‫״‬.‫אקרא יומם ולא תענה ולילה ולא דמיה לי‬
‫ חייב אדם לקרות את המגילה בלילה ולשנותה‬:‫ אמר רבי חלבו אמר עולא ביראה‬,‫איתמר נמי‬
‫״‬.‫ שנאמר “הלמען יזמרך כבוד ולא ידם ה׳ אלקי לעולם אודך‬,‫ביום‬
Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi cites the verse from Psalms, “O my G-d, I call by day but You answer not,
and at night and there is no surcease for me” (Tehillim 22:3)[…]
While Rabbi Helbo in the name of Ulla brings a different verse from Psalms, “So that my glory may
sing praise to You, and not be silent; O Lord my G-d, I will give thanks to you forever” (Tehillim 30:13).

The Rav notes that these two pesukim seem to be contradictory. One verse cited in the Gemara
sees the obligation of reading the Megillah on Purim as rooted in a verse depicting total
despair while the other verse cited for the same obligation reflects rejoicing. How can it be
that two diametrically opposite pesukim are both being used as the source for why we read
the Megillah at night and during the day? The Rav explains that in reality they each express
a different facet of Megillat Esther. Our Sages tell us that before entering Ahashveirosh’s inner
chamber, Esther, in a moment of despair, recited the Psalm that Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi
quotes in the above Gemara, entreating the Almighty when all hope was lost.” However,
this emotion of despair is diametrically opposed by the verse cited by Rabbi Helbo, which
expresses jubilation, praise and thanks to Hashem. The Rav further notes that the Gemara’s
axiom of keriata zu halilu that the reading of the Megillah is equivalent with the recitation of
Hallel, is consistent with Rabbi Helbo’s view. The Rav explains that both verses are accurate
characterizations of Megillat Esther. The Megillah is both a tze’aka, a cry of distress arising
from insecurity and fear, while also being a shira, a song of joy that marks Purim as no less
an occasion for celebration than the other festivals on which Hallel is recited.9
By Hallel we saw the answer given by Rava that we were still ovdei Ahashveirosh and we
were not yet fully and solely ovdei Hashem. Hallel which where we say “Hallelu avdei Hashem”
would then not be completely truthful. The duality of the day, as one being somber and at
the same time one for rejoicing requires us to have self-introspection. An oved Hashem is
one who is asking themselves what is that Hashem wants from and they are also looking to
see Hashem in their daily lives. There are times when we relate to Hashem through both of

9. Simon Posner, Eliyahu Krakowski, and Moshe Genack (ed.), Megillat Esther Mesorat HaRav (Orthodox Union/Koren), 2017.
For a full excerpt see www.jewishpress.com/indepth/front-page/the-rav-on-purim-and-the-megillah/2018/02/21.

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these emotions, happiness and sadness. The oved Hashem’s job is to try and see the balance
of how and when to use each.
There is another duality that exists within Purim. It appears that Purim is compared
to Yom Kippur. At first glance, one would be hard pressed to find another two days in the
Jewish calendar that are seemingly more unrelated than Purim, a day of joy and feasting,
and Yom Kippur, a day of awe and fasting. However, the Zohar explains that inherently
there is a deep connection between these two days. This is reflected in the name that the
Torah uses for Yom Kippur, Yom Kippurim, which can be read Yom ki-Purim, “a day like Purim.”10
R. Soloveitchik explains that the Zohar is pointing to a common theme shared by both the
sacred Yom Kippur and the exuberant Purim. Both holidays revolve around the key theme
of a lottery. The pur (lottery) that stands as the central motif of Purim is Haman’s lottery.
Haman believed that ultimately he control the fate of the Jewish people. Haman drew a
lottery to decide the date of the Jewish people’s extermination. In contrast, Yom Kippur’s
lottery is found in its central ritual, the avodah, the service in the Temple. There, the lottery
determines the fate of two identical sacrificial goats, one to be sacrificed on the altar while
the other to be “ingloriously” cast off a cliff in the desert. These two days, Purim and Yom
Kippur, which are very different in tone, express the same theme. What may seem careless,
accidental, a mere lottery, can be transformed into Kedushah, holiness, with the realization
that Hashem is behind the scenes directing all that occurs. It is not random, accidental, or
arbitrary, rather it is Hashem who is pulling the strings.
There is another similarity between Yom Kippur and Purim. Both are days of matan Torah,
the giving of the Torah. On Yom Kippur, the second tablets of the Ten Commandments were
brought down by Moshe from Mount Sinai. Purim also has an attribute of a day of matan
Torah. The Megillah (9:27) states:

‫קימו וקבל וקבלו היהודים עליהם ועל זרעם ועל כל הנלוים עליהם ולא יעבור להיות עשים‬
.‫את שני הימים האלה ככתבם וכזמנם בכל שנה ושנה‬
They established and accepted, for themselves and for their children.

Rava (Shabbat 88a) interprets this as a reacceptance of the Torah akin to that of Mount Sinai:

‫ קיימו‬,‫ דכתיב “קימו וקבלו היהודים״‬.‫ אף על פי כן הדור קבלוה בימי אחשורוש‬:‫אמר רבא‬
.‫מה שקיבלו כבר‬
Rava said: Even so, they again accepted it willingly in the time of Ahashveirosh’s, as it is written:
“The Jews ordained, and took upon them, and upon their seed, and upon all such as joined them-
selves unto them” (Esther 9:27), and he taught: The Jews ordained what they had already taken
upon themselves through coercion at Sinai.

10. Tikunei Zohar, Tikun 21.

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 Hakhmei Lev

After establishing the Jewish people’s reaffirmation of keeping the Torah, we see the paral-
lel drawn between the two matan Torahs. These events were not just one that impacted
that specific generation, such as that of the desert or of Mordekhai and Esther but even to
this very day and for all time. This might be why Megillat Esther and the Torah are linked
together. As Rambam writes, even though other sefarim of the prophetic works will cease
to exist in the times of Mashiah, Megillat Esther, just like the Torah will never cease to exist.
In the words of Rambam:

All Prophetic Books and the Sacred Writings will cease during the messianic era except the Book
of Esther. It will continue to exist just as the Five Books of the Torah and the laws of the Oral Torah
that will never cease…The days of Purim will not be abolished, as it is written: “These days of
Purim shall never be repealed among the Jews, and the memory of them shall never cease from
their descendants” (Esther 9:28).11

According to Rambam, the Megillah is unique among the Books of the Prophets and Sacred
Writings, and will not be nullified when Mashiah comes, but, just like the Five Books of Moses,
will continue to exist forever.
The question that remains is, what is so unique and special about Megillat Esther that it
alone shall remain when all other Sefarim from Neviim and Ketubim shall not? I believe the
answer lies within our initial premise, that if we were truly ovdei Hashem then we could
have said Hallel on Purim. The goal of the Megillah is for us to reaffirm our connection to
Hashem and declare him as the true king “Hamelekh!” In the beginning of the Megillah we
failed to do just that, and the entire point is us looking back contemplating our actions.
Being aware of our mistakes which might lead us to being sad and more humble but then to
jubilation as we see Hashem’s hand revealed as he yet again spares, saves, and redeems us.
There is another comment of the Gemara which highlights yet another duality of Purim.
The Gemara (Megillah 19a) comments that Megillat Esther is referred to as both a letter
(iggeret) and a book (sefer). R. Soloveitchik explains that a sefer is written on parchment and
is designed to last, representing permanence. An “iggeret” is intended only to transmit a
communication and symbolizes fleetingness. Megillat Esther, shares both of these qualities.
It is an iggeret, a record of no lasting importance. Yet, Megillat Esther is also a sefer, a profound
book that expresses the fundamental principles of our emunah (faith), a sefer that testifies
to our belief in Divine Providence, even in the depth of despair when all hope seems lost.12
Now we can begin to understand the “hidden agenda” of Purim, its significance, and why
Purim and the Megillah will never be forgotten or abolished. Megillat Esther is a sefer which
describes our emunah in Hashem, which we will never lose (our emunah), it is also compared
to a sefer Torah which is for all eternity. The Torah and now Megillat Esther are inherently
bound together even in the times of Mashiah. The oved Hashem needs to be tapped into this

11. Rambam, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Megillah 2:18.

12. Megillat Esther Mesorat HaRav.

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connection and realize that Hashem is there for us in both the here and now as well as in
the unforeseen future. The Megillah symbolizes this with its duality and our job is to see and
have emunah in Hashem that he is always there with us and for us even when we cannot see
him. Furthermore, we can comprehend the messages derived from the different answers as
to why we don’t say Hallel on Purim. We need to uncover Hashem’s presence and make it
nigleh and not nistar. We need to say thank you to Hashem and have hakarat hatov for all the
everyday miracles Hashem does for us. By being ovdei Hashem, we are able to truly express
our profound gratitude to Him, both through extreme happiness and immense sadness.
When we are constantly ovdei Hashem, we will find that we see Hashem in everything and
at all times. Through being ovdei Hashem, we finally will have brought to light what Hashem
wants from us. Hashem wants us to return to his Torah, mitzvot, and Land.13
The iggeret and sefer that we call Megillat Esther is the perfect example and reminder of
these aspects of our relationship with Hashem. That is why the hidden agenda of the sefer
is for us to be ovdei Hashem, people who can reveal the unrevealed. People who can see the
present, past and future Hand and actions of Hashem.
May we merit to uncover and reveal Hashem’s ratzon in this world, return fully to Hashem,
and to be ovdei Hashem and not ovdei Ahashveirosh!

13. Perhaps this is what the Gemara (Shabbat 88a) means when it says, “Kimu v’kiblu mah shekiblu kvar.”

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 Hakhmei Lev

The Superpower of Jewish Prayer

laya witty

The daily Amidah, also known as the Shemonah Esrei, is the essential prayer of our
liturgy. Every day, three times a day, we stand before the Almighty and address Him with
this tefillah. It is formulated with an opening section of three berakhot, which focus on praise
of G-d. There is a parallel ending section, which is made up of three berakhot of gratitude.
The middle section is the section in which we make our requests of G-d, the time when
each of us can focus on our own needs and ask for them directly from G-d. This pattern
of praise, request, acknowledgement, is described by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (zt”l) as a the
“fractal paradigm” on Jewish prayer.1
On weekdays, this middle section is comprised of thirteen berakhot of requests. As we
know them today, the thirteen middle berakhot are prayers for:
• Insight
• Repentance
• Forgiveness
• Redemption
• Health and Healing
• Prosperity
• Ingathering of the Exiles
• Justice
• Against Slanderers
• The Righteous
• Rebuilding Jerusalem
• The Kingdom of David
• Response to Prayer2

1. Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, The Koren Siddur (Koren, 2009), xxvi-xxvii.
2. Translation adapted from The Koren Siddur.

LAYA WITTY has been a member and active volunteer at BAYT for almost 20 years. Laya has served the shul
as Sisterhood President, Board member, Executive committee member, and in many other capacities. She
and her husband, Rabbi Avraham Aryaih Witty, have raised their seven children in the BAYT. Laya is also a
lawyer, practicing with the firm of WEL Partners Estate Litigation.

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Each berakhah constitutes a separate and distinct request, but the section of requests is, for
many purposes, treated as one section, or even as one berakhah.3 There is a discussion in the
Gemara (Berakhot 34a) relating to the middle berakhot as regards the possibility of correcting
a mistake in the recitation of the Amidah:

.‫ אמצעיות אין להן סדר‬:‫ורב אסי אמר‬

And Rav Asi disputes one aspect of Rav Huna’s opinion, as he said: The middle blessings have no set
order. If one erred in any of them he may insert it at whatever point he becomes aware of his error.

.‫ תיובתא דרב הונא‬.‫ מהיכן הוא חוזר — מתחלת הברכה שטעה זה‬:‫מתיב רב ששת‬
Rav Sheshet raised an objection based on a baraita: From where does he commence repetition of
the Amidah prayer? He commences from the beginning of the blessing in which the former had
erred. If so, this is a conclusive refutation of Rav Huna’s opinion, as Rav Huna said that if one
erred in one of the middle blessings, he returns to the beginning of the middle blessings, not to
the beginning of that particular blessing.

.‫ אמצעיות כולהו חדא ברכתא נינהו‬:‫אמר לך רב הונא‬

Rav Huna could have said to you: The middle blessings are all considered one blessing; commen-
cing from the beginning of the blessing means returning to the beginning of the middle blessings.

‫ אלא‬,‫ ולא בשלש אחרונות‬,‫ לעולם אל ישאל אדם צרכיו לא בשלש ראשונות‬:‫אמר רב יהודה‬
— ‫ אמצעיות‬.‫ ראשונות — דומה לעבד שמסדר שבח לפני רבו‬:‫ דאמר רבי חנינא‬.‫באמצעיות‬
.‫ ונפטר והולך לו‬,‫ אחרונות — דומה לעבד שקבל פרס מרבו‬.‫דומה לעבד שמבקש פרס מרבו‬
Rav Yehuda said: There is an additional distinction between the various sections of the Amidah
prayer: One must never request his own needs in the first three or in the last three blessings; rather,
he should do so in the middle blessings. As Rabbi Hanina said: During the first three blessings,
he is like a servant who arranges praise before his master; during the middle blessings, he is like
a servant who requests a reward from his master; during the final three blessings, one is like a
servant who already received a reward from his master and is taking his leave and departing.

In contrast to this, there is a discussion in Megillah (17b) about the order of the berakhot of
the Amidah, that prohibits reciting the berakhot out of their established order. The discussion
continues to elaborate on the progression from one berakhah to the next:

‫ שמעון הפקולי הסדיר שמונה עשרה ברכות לפני רבן גמליאל על הסדר‬:‫תפלה מנא לן? דתניא‬
,‫ ובהם כמה נביאים‬,‫ מאה ועשרים זקנים‬:‫ ואמרי לה במתניתא תנא‬,‫ אמר רבי יוחנן‬.‫ביבנה‬
.‫תיקנו שמונה עשרה ברכות על הסדר‬

3. Translation adapted from The William Davidson Talmud (Sefaria.org).

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The baraita cited previously taught that the halakhah against reciting a text out of order applies
to the Amidah prayer as well. The Gemara asks: From where do we derive this? As it is taught in
a baraita: Shimon HaPakuli arranged the eighteen blessings of the Amidah prayer before Rabban
Gamliel in their fixed order in Yavne, which indicates that there is a specific order to these blessings
that must not be changed. Rabbi Yohanan said, and some say that it was taught in a baraita: A
hundred and twenty Elders, i.e., the Men of the Great Assembly, and among them several prophets,
established the eighteen blessings of the Amidah in their fixed order, which also shows that the
order of these blessings may not be changed.

At first reading, these berakhot seem to be a fairly comprehensive list of a person’s needs.
They also seem to follow a logical order, each building on the one before. However, on a
closer reading, there are some connections that require a shift in perspective, and that may
provide further insight into the special nature of Jewish prayer.
The first point of disconnection is the change from personal needs to national ones. We
begin intensely personally, in our own heads and hearts. We pray for insight to know that
everything comes from G-d, and that it is to Him that we direct our prayers and requests. We
ask for repentance and forgiveness, in order to stand in His Presence and make our requests
of Him. We need Redemption from personal and immediate threats, whatever they are at
that moment. We pray for Health and Healing, for ourselves and for others. We also pray
for Prosperity, for the ability to live without the crushing burdens of poverty. At this point,
the individual’s needs have been addressed. One could think that after these requests, we
are ready to conclude the Amidah.
However, the next berakhah is for the Ingathering of the Exiles. “Sound the great Shofar
of our freedom, hoist the banner to gather our exiles…” Then we ask for our independence,
for Jewish self-rule. We ask for an end to those who have cooperated with our oppressors,
for G-d to reward the righteous, for the rebuilding of Jerusalem and the restoration of the
Davidic monarchy. How are these prayers part of this section of individual requests?
One answer to this issue is that each individual prays not only for himself or herself, but
for the needs of the community. All of the berakhot of the Amidah are phrased in the plural,
and are intended, not merely for ourselves, but for our community, for the Jewish Nation,
and for the world. In this context, it is possible to see the series of requests in the Amidah
as a “Jewish Hierarchy of Needs.” Both as an individual, and as a community, we need
insight to understand that we have sinned. We ask for the blessing of repentance in order
to be forgiven. We need pardon, absolution and forgiveness to be able to ask for our needs.
Whatever the immediate threats are, physical, political or our own personal experience of
oppression, it is only when the immediate threat is removed that we can plan and focus
on long-term issues and goals. We need health, strength and sustenance to move forward
and continue our existence.
In light of this, the second section of requests connects easily to the first section. The
berakhah of “Bareikh aleinu,” which is our request for prosperity and sustenance, includes,

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during the rainy season in Israel, a specific request for rain. This berakhah is said with this
addition all over the world, even in countries of the southern hemisphere, where the winter
rainy season falls at the opposite time of the year. This request is not only phrased in the
plural, in the way that a Jew always includes the entire community in his or her prayer.4
This is now a national matter. Because no matter where in the world a Jew is physically
located, this berakhah is a connection to the Land of Israel.5
Having noted that connection, the next berakhah, for the Ingathering of the Exiles, follows
very logically. Once we have established that we are all connected to the land and to each
other, the realization of that connection is a logical next request. Once we are together in
our land, national self-determination is of paramount importance, that we rule ourselves
without the interference of foreign powers. When we return to Israel, it will be our greatest
national goal to rebuild Jerusalem to its former glory, and to re-establish the Kingdom of
David. Finally, in the berakhah of Ritzei, we ask that our prayers be heard, and that the avodah,
the service of G-d in the Beit Hamikdash, return.
Another perspective on these berakhot may be found in the discussions in Tanakh of the
dedication of the Beit Hamidash. The story is told twice, the first is in Melahim I, Ch. 8. The
second is in Divrei Hayamin II, Ch. 6. The two are very similar, and both contain a prayer or
proclamation of King Shlomo regarding the Beit Hamikdash as the centre of Jewish prayer
forever. In both accounts, Shlomo declares that the Beit Hamikdash will always be a direct
conduit to G-d. Even if we would be exiled, and unable to pray at the Beit Hamikdash, if Jewish
people direct their prayers towards their land, towards Jerusalem, and towards the Beit
Hamikdash, G-d will hear us and answer us. After the dedication of the Beit Hamikdash, G-d
spoke to Shlomo and confirmed that He had chosen and sanctified the Beit Hamikdash, and
His eyes and His heart will always be towards the Beit Hamikdash and towards the prayers
that are directed there.
This would serve then as an explanation for why so much of our personal prayer is devoted
to restoring us to the Land of Israel, to Jewish self-rule, to rebuilding the Beit Hamikdash
and restoring the Davidic monarchy and the Beit Hamikdash. The declaration was made by
King Shlomo, that even in exile, if we repent with sincerity and direct our prayers to the
Beit Hamikdash, G-d will hear us and answer us. Naturally, we would want to emphasize this
commitment at every opportunity, and in every Amidah.
An additional answer approaches this connection on a more self-reflective level. Praying
the section of the Amidah that is supposed to be devoted to “personal prayer,” yet phrased in
the plural, can also bring a very important perspective to these requests. We can understand
why these requests are made by the community as a whole, perhaps even as part of public
prayer services, but why are they prescribed as part of this intensely individual moment?
A similar change of focus can be found in Tehillim 102, which calls itself, “A prayer of
the poor man, when he is enveloped in misery.” For twelve pesukim, this Psalm describes

4. See Berakhot 29b-30a.

5. See Beurei Ha-tefillah Institute, Vol 3, No. 50.

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utter dejection, abandonment and the petitioner nearly expiring. In pasuk 13 the psalmist
declares: “But You, O L-rd are enthroned forever and Your Name is for all generations.” He
then makes a demand: “You will have mercy on Zion, it is the time to be gracious to her, the
appointed time has come.” This individual may be enshrouded in his personal misery, but
his prayer and plea is not for himself, but for G-d to redeem his people and bring them to
Jerusalem. This “poor man” who describes himself as “withered like grass” speaks to G-d
and demands, not personal rescue, but national redemption.
This is a paradigm for every generation. We each face our own set of challenges. No
matter how worn out and dried up, overwhelmed and wrung out, abandoned and isolated,
we feel ourselves to be, we are a part of this great nation, and we have a responsibility
to advocate for the Jewish people. No matter how insignificant we may think we are, we
each come before G-d as individuals – but also as representatives of His nation. We plead
before Him, not only for our own daily needs, but for the redemption that He has promised
to us for every generation. Every Jew has the right, and the responsibility, to ask for the
redemption of our nation and the return of our Beit Hamikdash. This transition, from the
personal to the national, emphasizes the dignity of a Jew. It takes a downtrodden wretch of
humanity, spurned and repulsed by every nation, and tells him to stand, every day, before
the King of Kings, and remind Him that we await His redemption. This is the superpower
of Jewish prayer.

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Our Era Through The Lens

of the Netivot Shalom
rabbi dr. moshe j. yeres

Sefer Netivot Shalom, written by the late Slonimer Rebbe Rabbi Shalom Noach
Berezovsky zt”l, continues its increasing influence on our generation, being studied by
both religious and non-religious Jews, The sefer is written in clear, modern, fluent Hebrew
and presents insights of chassidic and kabbalistic concepts in language and terminologies
that are accessible to modern society and speak to our age. While the two communities of
Slonimer Chassidim in Israel (Jerusalem and Bnei Brak) likely number less than five thou-
sand families, the impact of the theology of Sefer Netivot Shalom has become widespread.
The survival and revival of Slonim Chassidut is due to the unique circumstances of R.
Beresovsky’s living in Palestine during World War II. While a small community of Slonimer
Chassidim had been sent in 1873 by the first Slonimer Rebbe, R. Avraham Weinberg (author
of Sefer Yesod Havodah) to settle in Tiberias, the vast majority of Slonimer Chassidim were
killed in Europe during the Shoah. R Beresovksy, who prior to the war, had been entrusted
with recording his Rebbe’s sichot and divrei Torah, was in Mandatory Palestine during the
war. There he led a Chabad-affiliated yeshiva, eventually learning about the decimation of
the Slonimer Chassidim in Europe.
He worked relentlessly to reestablish Slonimer Chassidut during and after the war.
Setting up a Slonimer Yeshiva in Jerusalem and publishing various Slonimer Chassidut
books from original manuscripts and lost documents, he single-handedly reestablished the
Slonim Chassidic tradition and community with the few remaining survivors. Having lived
through that difficult period in Palestine while his brethren died in Nazi Europe, he was
given a unique vision and perspective about his era and the significance of the moment.
He maintained a special feeling about the opportunity given by the State of Israel and the
returning of many Jews to the traditions of Judaism. At the same time, he understood the

MOSHE J. YERES is Director of Seder Boker at Beit Midrash Zichron Dov, which is a daily study group for
adult men. He leads a popular Shabbat morning class at the Thornhill Community Shul Hashkamah Minyan,
and teaches in various venues in the community, including a Monday night Talmud class. He has served as
Principal for Jewish Studies at TanenbaumCHAT and has many years of leadership experience as an educa-
tor, administrator, and religious leader. For more information on joining his classes or to contact him, please
email him at mosheyeres@gmail.com.

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challenges of his (and our) era in terms of Jewish assimilation and the need for reaching
out to those not committed to Jewish tradition.
One good example of this theological idea is presented below. The Netivot Shalom is known
primarily for its five-volume set on weekly Torah portions and its two-volume set on Jewish (and
chassidic) values and major Jewish holidays. Volume one of the two-volume set opens with
a six-section piece entitled Pirke Mavo on Netivot Da’at, best translated as Paths of Awareness.
In these introductory chapters, the author sketches many of the ways (paths) by which one
can develop an awareness of the Almighty in our lives. This, he considers, to be the main
purpose and goal of our existence in this world. At the end of the sixth and final section,
Netivot Shalom transitions to discuss the significance of his (our) era. Our translation follows:

Netivot Shalom Volume 1; Netivot Da’at/Pirkei Mavo –

Section 6, Sub-Section 7
It is very important that we should maintain clarity of awareness also regarding the general
nature of our era, to know and understand its specific unique issues, as it states in Deut.
32:7 “Consider the years of many generations.” As we wrote earlier in the name of the AR”I
z”l, each day from the creation of the world is different and not similar to another. This is
because every day has its own unique purposes and goals.
In light of this we have an obligation upon ourselves for significant internal and deep
reflection about our generation, our era and our destiny. The purpose and responsibilities
in the world in this amazing time period began with the utterly terrible churban, the likes
of which the Jewish people have never experienced before, where Divine anger impacted
every corner of the Jewish world, and through which we have already undergone all of the
birth pangs of the Messiah in awesome and horrifying ways. However, we (the survivors)
strengthened ourselves and did not give up hope completely. This is along the lines of R.
Moshe Chaim Luzzato (RamChal in his book Kelach Pitchei Hokhmah) who explains that that
just as after a period of drought, much rain of blessing and bounty falls on the earth, so too
after the period of difficult hester (hiddenness of Hashem), we receive extra kindness and
rachamim (from Him). This is even though we cannot understand how it would have been
possible for us to rise up again after our existence had been so decimated.
Indeed, only one generation later, baruch Hashem we see those rains of blessing in the
halls of Torah and the yeshivot and chassidic centres in such an astounding way that we
could never have predicted before. The Almighty raised up a generation of knowledge and
awareness that is dedicated to His Torah and service in ways to which there is no compari-
son in the last generations. The worlds of Torah and chassidut have grown and developed
in a most supernal fashion. And the most important was the arrival of a new Shevet Levi
(Levites) in Israel, along the lines of what the Rambam wrote at the end of Laws of Shmittah
(chapter 13; 12-13):

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Why did the Levites not receive a portion in the inheritance of Eretz Yisrael in the spoils of war like
their brethren? Because they were set aside to serve G-d and minister unto Him and to instruct
people at large in His just paths and righteous judgments… Therefore they were set apart from
the ways of the world… Instead, they are G-d’s legion, as [Deut 33:11] states: “G-d has blessed His
legion”… And not only the tribe of Levi, but any one of the inhabitants of the world whose spirit
generously motivates him, and he understands with his wisdom to set himself aside and stand
before G-d to serve Him and minister to Him and to know G-d… he is sanctified as holy of holies.
G-d will be His portion and heritage forever… (Rabbi Eliyahu Touger translation).

In our time thousands of avreichim and their families have sanctified themselves for the
study of Torah and serving Hashem and this is something that is not comparable to anything
seen in earlier generations.
Together with this has arisen a new world, which has never been seen before – the world
of ba’alei teshuva. Thousands of our brothers and sisters in Israel have become ba’alei teshuva
and have returned to their source (of faith) in an amazing way, long after they had sunk to
low spiritual levels. Some of these people had been completely encompassed by their secular
and physical existences, some had sunk to low levels, and now they have become focused
on Torah and the service of Hashem. We stand amazed and stunned to watch this new and
holy phenomenon, which You (Hashem) have shown through Your power. And perhaps they
represent the first drops of G-d’s promise that there will come a time when the world will
be full of the awareness and knowledge of Hashem. If we will be worthy, these drops of G-d’s
awareness will increase until we merit to experience it in its complete fullness.
All of this requires much from us; even if we do not yet know exactly how and how much,
but the soul in every individual and the clarity of the Divine light in the midst of every Jew
will teach us that it is up to us, living in this great generation, to rise up to our true destiny
and purpose in this world. We must be sure we do not despise the King’s (G-d’s) gift to us
but rather treasure what has been given to us.
On the other hand, how difficult is the spiritual level of the Jewish people, those who
are not from among the religious faithful. Yet this is actually what the Talmud (Sanhedrin
95a) says: (Mashiach) Ben David will only arrive in a generation that is either fully good or
fully evil. And it is asked how is it possible to have a generation that is completely only evil,
that will bring the final redemption? It is, however in line with what the holy books refer
to, that the outcome of the sin of eating the eitz hada’at (tree of knowledge in the Garden of
Eden) was the confusion of good and evil coexisting and working together. The rectification
of Mashiach ben David will be the ability to separate and define each separately from the
other. And this is the intention here – that the generation when Mashiach is to come will be
one in which the mixture of good and evil are able to be separated. It will be a generation in
which people are either completely good and (serving Hashem) or completely evil (away from
Hashem) without the mixture of good and evil together. All this will depend on the trait of

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awareness (da’at) of Hashem, as the Rabbis have stated – “without da’at there is not separ-
ation (havdalah).” And it is this vision that we are beginning to see in our own generation.
This generation calls us to greatness as R Moshe of Kobrin wrote on the verse Genesis
29:7 “Behold, the day is yet long. It is not time for the livestock to be gathered in.” The great
and mighty day of Hashem is approaching; this is not the time to gather up the physical
possessions we have acquired of this world, but rather to focus on the special spiritual gifts
that are being offered to us.

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