By Reuven Chaim (Rudolph) Klein

Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein is the author of the Lashon HaKodesh: History, Holiness, & Hebrew [available here]. His book is available online and in bookstores throughout the world. Rabbi Klein published articles in various journals including Jewish Bible Quarterly, Kovetz Hamaor, Kovetz Chitzei Gibborim, and Kovetz Kol HaTorah. He studied at premier Yeshivas including the Mir in Jerusalem and BMG in Lakewood. He was most recently a fellow at the Tikvah Institute for Yeshiva Men (Summer 2015) and lives with his wife and children in Beitar Illit, Israel.

Anyone who has a copy of the first edition of his book on Lashon HaKodesh is eligible to receive a PDF of the “Additions and Corrections” section of the new edition. Please send requests directly to the author at: historyofhebrew@gmail.com

The term “avunculate marriage” refers to marriage between a man and his niece. In this paper, we will explore the Bible’s view on the permissibility of such unions, and discuss several examples of such marriages in the Bible. Not only does rabbinic literature generally presume that such marriages are permitted, the Talmud even encourages it. On the other hand, other sources ban these relationships. The Sadducees believe that the Bible forbids such marriages. While various Tosafists believe that such marriages are Biblically permitted, they still prohibit marrying one’s niece (at least in some cases) for other reasons.

Abraham & Nahor marry their nieces

Upon close examination, one will find that at least six Biblical personalities married their nieces. Each of these cases can and are interpreted in various ways; calling into question their relevance to our discussion. However, the mere fact that tradition allows for these sorts of interpretations shows that avunculate marriage is compatible with Biblical tradition, and constitutes a legitimate building block in the institution of the Jewish family.

The first two examples of avunculate marriages in the Bible are those between Abraham and Nahor and their respective nieces. The Torah says:

And Terah lived seventy years, and begot Abram, Nahor, and Haran. Now these are the generations of Terah: Terah begot Abram, Nahor, and Haran; and Haran begot Lot. And Haran died in the presence of his father Terah in the land of his nativity, in Ur of the Chaldees. And Abram and Nahor took them wives: the name of Abram’s wife was Sarai; and the name of Nahor’s wife, Milcah, the daughter of Haran, the father of Milcah, and the father of Iscah. (Gen. 11:26–29)

This passage records that Abram (i.e. Abraham), Nahor, and Haran were brothers. Nahor married Milcah, the daughter of Haran; and Abraham married Sarai. According to an ancient tradition preserved in rabbinic sources (Seder Olam Ch. 2; TB Megillah 14a; and TB Sanhedrin 69b) and by Josephus (Antiquities of the Jews Book I, Ch. 6), another name for Sarai is Iscah. The assertion that Sarai is the same person as Iscah is supported by the fact that the Torah provides the paternity of Nahor’s wife Milcah, yet does not mention the paternity of Abraham’s wife Sarai. Given that the Torah delineates one wife’s father, we would have expected it to mention the father of the other wife as well. This difficulty can be resolved if we assume that Sarai is Iscah, since the Torah states that Haran was the father of Iscah.[1]

If we assume that the Haran who is mentioned as Abraham and Nahor’s father-in-law is the same person as their brother Haran, and that Sarai is Iscah, then this passage records two instances of avunculate marriages: Nahor married his niece Milcah and Abraham married his niece Iscah/Sarai. However, it is debatable whether Nahor and Abraham’s marriages to Milcah and Sarai were truly avunculate marriages. In order to claim that they were, one must rely on two assumptions, both of which are subject to dispute. Firstly, Ibn Ezra (to Gen. 11:29) expresses skepticism regarding the identification of Iscah with Sarai.[2] Secondly, even if Iscah is Sarai, some commentators (including Abarbanel(Gen. 11) and the Medieval work Moshav Zeqenim[3]) understand that the Bible refers to two different men named Haran. One was a brother to Abraham and Nahor (and father of Lot); while the other was the father of Iscah/Sarai and Milcah.[4] Accordingly, there is no clear consensus on whether Abraham and Nahor married their nieces.

Later in Genesis, the Bible relates that when Joseph was the Egyptian viceroy, he married Osnath daughter of Poti-Phera (Gen. 41:45). According to many Midrashic sources (Pirkei D’Rabbi Eliezer Ch. 38; Masekhet Sofrim 21:9; and Targum Pseudo-Jonathan to Gen. 41:45(, Osnath was none other than the daughter of Dinah (Jacob’s daughter) and her rapist, Shechem. This “illegitimate” child was initially shunned by Jacob’s family, but eventually found her way back in by marrying Joseph. Thus, Joseph’s wife Osnath was his niece, the daughter of his sister Dinah. Although others understand that Osnath was actually an Egyptian woman,[5] the Midrashic sources above reject the notion that Joseph would marry a non-Israelite woman.

Similarly, Rabbeinu Hayyim Paltiel quotes a Midrash[6] which says that Simeon married the daughter of Dinah who was born by rape through Shechem.[7] According to this Midrash (which is probably mutually exclusive with the above mentioned sources), Simeon married his niece, the daughter of his sister Dinah.

These examples differ from the others under consideration because these are the only explicit examples of a man marrying his sororal niece (i.e. his sister’s daughter). All the other examples involve a man marrying his fraternal niece (i.e. his brother’s daughter).

Amram had three children: Miriam, Aaron, and Moses. The Bible records the marriages of both of Amram’s sons: Moses married Zippora daughter of Jethro (Ex. 2:21), and Aaron married Eliseba daughter of Amminadab (Ex. 6:23). However, the Bible does not tell us about the family of Amram’s daughter Miriam.

Rabbinic literature states that she married Caleb (Exodus Rabbah §1:17; Sifrei, Beha’alothkha §78; and TB Sotah 11b–12a). However, according to the apocryphal work The Testament of Amram found amongst the Dead Sea Scrolls at Qumran (4Q543, 4Q549), Amram gave his daughter Miriam to his younger brother Uzziel to wed. That work understands that the sons of Uzziel listed in the Bible (Ex. 6:22) were born to his wife Miriam. Thus, that work believed that Uzziel married his brother’s daughter Miriam.

As related in the book of Joshua (15:16–17) and in the opening chapter of Judges (1:12–13), Caleb offered his daughter Achsa to whoever could conquer the Canaanite stronghold at Kiriath Sepher: “And Othniel the son of Kenaz, Caleb’s younger brother, took it; and he [Caleb] gave him [Othniel] Achsah his daughter to wife.” Othniel succeeded in conquering the city and thus won the hand of his brother’s daughter Achsa in marriage. Most assume that Othniel was Caleb’s full brother, although some explain that they shared only a mother, not a father.[8]

R. Ishtori ha-Parhi (1280-1366), the foremost Rabbinic topographer of the Medieval period, writes (Kaftor Va-Fereh Ch. 5) that the Sadducees consider themselves more pious than Rabbinic Jews because they forbid one to marry his brother’s daughter. Then, ha-Parhi cites this case as a Biblical precedent for allowing such marriages. Nonetheless, ha-Parhi notes that the case of Othniel only proves that one may marry the daughter of his maternal brother but does not necessarily prove that one can marry the daughter of his paternal siblings.

There is a Talmudic discussion (TB Bava Bathra 91a) regarding the Book of Ruth which explains the relationships between its major players. It asserts that Elimelech (Naomi’s husband), Salmon (Boaz’s father), the anonymous relative who refused to redeem Naomi’s field, and Naomi’s father were all sons of Nahshon ben Amminadab. According to this understanding, Elimelech married his brother’s daughter—Naomi.

However, the Midrash (Ruth Rabbah §6:3) presents a dissenting view that Elimelech was a son of Salmon (and brother to Boaz). According to this understanding, Naomi was not Elimelech’s niece but his first cousin.

The Talmud (TB Megillah 13a) relates that Mordecai not only raised the orphaned Esther, but he also married her. Furthermore, some sources, including Josephus in Antiquities (Book XI, Ch. 6), Targum Rishon (to Est. 7:6),[9] and the Vulgate (Est. 2:7) explain that Esther was Mordecai’s niece. Ibn Ezra (to Est. 8:1) and Maimonides (there)[10] also repeat that claim. Together, these two ideas indicate that Mordecai married his niece. Nonetheless, this understanding is simply mistaken as the Bible quite explicitly states that she was his first cousin, not his niece: And he brought up Hadassah, that is, Esther, his uncle’s daughter… (Est. 2:7) and Now when the turn of Esther, the daughter of Abihail the uncle of Mordecai… (Est. 2:15).

The prophet Isaiah tells of several acts of kindness that a man can perform that would prompt God to answer his prayers. He says:

Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the
poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover
him, and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh? Then shall thy light
break forth as the morning, and thy healing shall spring forth speedily; and
thy righteousness shall go before thee, the glory of the LORD shall be thy
reward. Then shalt thou call, and the LORD will answer; thou shalt cry, and He
will say: ‘Here I am.’… (Is. 58:7–9)

When explaining these “good deeds” in practical terms, the Talmud (TB Yevamot 62b–63a) notes that and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh refers to a man who marries his sister’s daughter. While there is a controversy among the commentators concerning whether the Talmud only means one’s sororal niece or even his fraternal niece, it is clear that the Talmud encourages a man to marry his niece. Similarly, the Tosefta (Kiddushin 1:2) teaches, “A man should not marry a woman until his sororal niece comes of age [so that he can marry her], or until he finds [another woman equally fitting for him.”

There are two approaches among the earlier commentators in how to understand the Talmud’s endorsement of marrying one’s niece. Rashi understands that the Talmud only endorses marrying one’s sororal niece. He explains that this act is considered particularly kind, because a man has a certain longing for his sister (more so than for his brother). Thus, by marrying her daughter, he will insure that his wife will be especially cherished.

However, the Tosafists (Tosafot to TB Yevamot 62b) quote in the name of Rashi’s grandson Rashbam that the Talmud’s endorsement also applies to one’s fraternal niece, not just to a sororal niece. He explains that the Talmud specifically mentions marrying a sororal niece simply because it is more common that a man’s sister will convince him to marry her daughter than it is for his brother to do so.

Nonetheless, Rabbeinu Tam disagrees with this assertion and instead maintains that the Talmud only means that one should marry his sororal niece. There are two modes of justifications given for this approach: Firstly, one’s sororal niece is similar to her uncle, as the Rabbis say, “Most children are similar to the brothers of their mother” (TB Baba Bathra 110a, Sofrim 15:10). This similarity between the two will ensure a stronger marriage, and that is precisely what the Talmud means to endorse.

Furthermore, the Tosafists quote in the name of Rivan (a son-in-law of Rashi and uncle to Rabbeinu Tam and Rashbam) that it is actually forbidden to marry one’s fraternal niece, so the Talmud must only have endorsed marrying one’s sororal niece. They explain that according to the rules of the Levirate marriage (mentioned in Deut. 25:5–10), a man (A) is commanded to marry the widow of his brother (B), if B dies childless. However, the Mishnah teaches (Yevamot 1:1) that if the widow is A’s daughter, then A is exempt from that commandment, because a man may not marry his own daughter. Thus, the Rabbis forbid a man (B) from marrying his niece (A’s daughter) so as to prevent a situation where the commandment of Levirate marriage will be abolished. This rabbinic ban on marrying one’s fraternal niece proves that the Talmud’s endorsement of marrying one’s niece only applies to a sororal niece.[11]

Nonetheless, this proof is incomplete because there are situations where there is no clash with the rules of the Levirate marriage. For example, if A is already deceased (and therefore anyways unable to perform the Levirate marriage), then B should be allowed to marry his daughter. Or if A is only B’s maternal brother, but not paternal brother (and therefore is not allowed to marry B’s widow even if she was not his daughter see TB Yevamot 17b), then he should be allowed to marry A’s daughter. Accordingly, one can argue that in these situations, the Talmud endorses marrying even one’s fraternal niece. This is especially compelling in light of ha-Parhi’s above mentioned proof-text from Othniel, which shows that one is allowed to marry his maternal brother’s daughter.

In short, Rabbeinu Tam—in agreement with his grandfather Rashi—understands that the Talmud only endorses marrying one’s sororal niece, but actually forbids marrying one’s fraternal niece. Rabbi Betzalel Ashkenazi (1520–1592) testifies that this is also the opinion[12] of the non-yet-extant Tosafot Shantz to the Talmudic Tractate Gittin.[13]In his commentary to the Bible, the ‎Alsatian sage R. Yohanan Luria (1440–1514) also follows Rabbeinu Tam’s view.[14]

However, Maimonides (in his commentary to the Mishnah Nedarim 8:5 and in his Laws of Sexual Prohibitions, end of ch. 2) understands that the Talmud does not mention one’s sororal niece to the exclusion of his fraternal niece. He thus rules that is considered a Mitzvah for a man to marry either his sororal or fraternal niece.[15] R. Meir Abulafia (1170–1244) writes (Yad Ramah to TB Sanhedrin 76b) that marrying one’s niece is considered commendable because she is the closest relative that a man is allowed to marry. He thus follows his older contemporary Maimonides in offering no distinction between a sororal niece and fraternal niece (because the degree of kinship to both is the same). Nonetheless, he notes that the Talmud mentioned one’s sister’s daughter in specific simply because marrying her is even more commendable. By doing so, he is performing an act of kindness towards his sister, who might otherwise have difficulty marrying off her daughter.[16]

R. Moses Isserles (1520–1572) settles the matter by ruling in accordance with the view of Maimonides and Rashbam that one should marry his sororal or fraternal niece (see his glosses to the Shulhan Aruch, Even Ha’Ezer §2:6; 15:25).

Rabbinic Judaism extends the meanings of the Biblical passages (Lev. 18 and 20) which delineate forbidden relationships. They note that the Torah spoke of the incest laws from the man’s point of reference, but the laws apply equally to a woman. Thus, the Rabbis understand that all incestuous relationships mentioned in the Bible are forbidden to both the man and the woman involved (TB Yevamot 84b). However, the Rabbis do not add more forbidden relationships than those listed by the Bible; they only say that both parties are culpable. The Sadducees, on the other hand, add cases to the Bible’s list and forbid more cases of the same types of relationship. In this, the Rabbis understand the Bible’s meaning differently than the Sadducees and remain more faithful to the text of the Torah than did they.

A Sadducean work found by Solomon Schechter at the Cairo Geniza criticizes those who marry their brother or sister’s daughter. This work reasons that since according to Mosaic law, a man is not allowed to marry his mother’s sister because she is his mother’s flesh (Lev. 18:13), a woman is also not allowed to marry her parents’ brother. The rationale for such an extension of the Biblical law is that the Torah does not simply list forbidden cases of incest, it lists forbidden categories of relationships. These relationships are determined by degree of kinship, without regard for gender. Thus, if a man is forbidden to his parents’ sister, the same prohibition says that a woman is forbidden to her parents’ brother because the degree of kinship—in this case, parent’s sibling—is the same.[17]

A copy of this document, now known as the Damascus Document, was also found among the Dead Sea Scrolls at Qumran (4Q270). It contains a condemnation of those men who marry their brothers’ daughters (although that particular source omits the prohibition of one’s sister’s daughter). A legal scroll found at Qumran known as Midrash Mishpatim (4Q251) contains a list of the Biblical prohibitions of incest, and includes a man marrying his brother’s or sister’s daughter. Another important document from Qumran known as the Temple Scroll (11Q19) [18] also forbids marrying one’s brother’s or sister’s daughter.[19]

The Sadducean method of interpretation creates three pairs of redundancies in the Bible’s list (Cases 3, 7, 8, 9, 11, and 12) and also creates four new cases of incest which are not mentioned in the Bible, in addition to marrying one’s niece (Cases 4, 6, two scenarios, 10).

These two points demonstrate the weakness of the Sadducean approach. The method of interpretation used to justify including one’s niece in the Biblical prohibition against marrying one’s aunt would create a series of redundancies in the other listed cases of incest. Furthermore, according to the Sadducean methodology of Biblical interpretation, four other relationships should be classified as incestuous (in addition to marrying one’s niece). However, the Sadducees are inconsistent in that they explicitly mention their added prohibition against marrying one’s niece but fail to account for the other new cases of incest which their methodology creates.[20]

In fact, Saul Lieberman argues that the Rabbis classified marrying one’s niece as a positive deed specifically in order to counter the Sadducean view that marrying one’s niece is Biblically forbidden. He notes it is the Rabbis’ way to take things which are simply “allowed” by the Bible and encourage people to do them in order to undermine sectarian heretical views.[21]

Interestingly, in his abovementioned work, ha-Parhi notes that the Sadducees were not innovators in banning marriage to a niece: They adopted the prohibition from the Samaritans, who took the idea from the Arabs.[22] Later, the Karaites also followed suit and outlawed uncle-niece marriage.[23]

The 12th century German leader of the Hassidei Ashkenaz movement, R. Judah Ha-Hassid, declares that one should not marry his niece, neither sororal nor fraternal (in his ethical will §22 and in Sefer Hassidim §477). However, his understanding of this prohibition clearly differs from the Sadducean approach. The Sadducees understood that the Bible itself prohibits marrying one’s niece, while Ha-Hassid does not. As a follower of Rabbinic tradition, Ha-Hassid must comply with Talmudic law, yet his mention of a prohibition against marrying one’s niece is clearly at odds with the Rabbinic approach which not only allows for such marriage but even encourages it.

R. Ezekiel Landau of Prague (1713–1793), in his halachik responsa (Noda B’Yehuda, Even HaEzer Tinyana §79), offers an innovative solution. He proves that R. Judah Ha-Hassid only wrote the prohibitions in his will and Sefer Hassidim for his descendants—not for all Jews—because otherwise his prohibition would contradict an explicit Talmudic passage that not only allows but even applauds a man marrying his niece. [24] Others interpret Ha-Hassid’s warning in accordance with contemporary science, which warns of the genetic dangers to children born to an uncle and niece.

Nonetheless, Ha-Hassid himself explains his true intent. He writes (Sefer Hassidim §488) that only a pious individual is allowed to marry his niece in order that his children be similar to himself (per the rabbinic dictum mentioned above). However, a wicked man who only intends to fulfill his own pleasures should not marry his niece, so that his children will not be like him. Thus, Ha-Hassid actually allows for avunculate marriage in the right circumstances, yet elsewhere he writes blankly that it is forbidden so that the not-necessarily-pious masses would refrain from such unions.[25]

There are essentially two general views regarding avunculate marriage in the Bible. The Rabbinic position is that avunculate marriage is permitted by Biblical law. In fact, according to Rabbinic tradition, there are even Biblical precedents for allowing such marriages. Nonetheless, the Rabbis do limit the circumstances under which one may marry his niece. They forbid marrying one’s fraternal niece, since this might interfere with the commandment of the Levirate marriage. There is also the pietistic view of the Hassidei Ashkenaz, who rule that only a pious man may marry his niece (because he will have pure intentions), while the masses should not engage in such unions.

By contrast, the Sadducean approach outlaws avunculate marriage entirely, and attributes this prohibition to the Bible. Even according to Rabbinic tradition, the aforementioned Biblical cases are not unanimously viewed as actually consisting of avunculate marriages. The Sadducees would likely interpret these cases such that they do not serve as precedents for legitimately marrying one’s niece.

R. Yitchak Al-fasi’s
Anti-Qaraite Legislative Activity
By Tzvi H. Adams

“צום הרביעי וצום החמישי וצום השביעי” וגו’. … והוא
העשירי מן החדש העשירי… והוא היום אשר סמך בו נבוכדנצאר על ירושלם והצר עליה
ובנה עליה דיק, שנאמר “ויהי בשנה התשיעית למלכו בחדש העשירי בעשור לחדש בא
נבכדנאצר מלך בבל וכל חילו” וגו’

והיום השני – והוא יום פתיחת המדינה, והוא היום התשיעי מן החדש הרביעי
שנאמר “בחדש הרביעי בתשעה לחדש ויחזק הרעב בעיר ולא היה לחם לעם הארץ ותבקע
העיר”.

והצום השלשי – הוא היום השביעי מן החדש החמישי מפני כי אמר בו
“בחדש החמישי בשבעה לחדש היא שנת תשע עשרה שנה למלך נבוכדנצר בא נבוזראדן רב
טבחים עמד לפני מלך בבל בירושלם, וישרוף את בית יוי”.

והצום הרביעי – הוא היום העשירי מזה החדש הה’ שנאמר “ובחדש
החמישי באחד לחדש” וגו’. והגרמתו וגם הגרמת היום הז’ הוא שריפת בית יוי מפני
כי אמר אחרי כל אחד מהם ” וישרוף את בית ה’ 
שני פעמים.

והצום הה’ – הוא יום כד’ מן החדש השביעי שנאמר “וביום עשרים
וארבעה לחדש נאספו בני ישראל בצום ובשקים” וגו’.

… ויש באלה הצומות חלוף. מהם בין הרבנים ובין הקראים, ומהם בין
הקראים ובין העננים,…

What Did the
Willows Ever Do to Deserve Such a Beating?

An Original
Explanation for a Perplexing Custom

By Steven Weiner 

Introduction

The
seventh day of Sukkot – the day we now call הושענא רבה – has no special significance in the Torah.  The day has no distinctive name; no mitzvot
or rules distinguish it from the rest of Sukkot; its sacrifices follow
precisely the same pattern as the previous six days; and, unlike the seventh day
of Pesach, the seventh day of Sukkot is not even a מקרא קדש.  In other words, the seventh day of Sukkot
appears in the Torah as indistinguishable from the other days of המועד חול.

Nevertheless,
the Talmud describes several unique practices that were performed on הושענא רבה.  One such practice is the custom we still
observe today known as חיבוט ערבות (chibut aravot),
beating our ערבות against the ground. 
What is the meaning of this strange ritual, and does it have any meaningful
relationship with הושענא רבה?

A
most mysterious מנהג
נביאים

According
to the Mishna (Sukka 4:5), on each day
of Sukkot the people brought tall ערבות branches to the מקדש and stood them on the
ground surrounding the מזבח,
thereby adorning the מזבח with an overhanging
canopy of leaves.  The Gemara (Sukka
44a-44b) concludes that this practice is rooted in a הלכה למשה מסיני
(an
oral tradition received at Sinai).  However,
while the Mishna describes only a ritual performed inside the מקדש, the Gemara adds that a custom involving ערבות also
developed later outside of the מקדש – but only on one day of Sukkot, הושענא רבה.[1]  The Gemara describes this custom using the
verb חיבוט –
understood by Rashi as waving the ערבות,
and by Rambam as beating them e.g. against the floor.  The familiar custom nowadays is to take a
bundle of ערבות on הושענא רבה and strike it
sharply, several times, against the floor or a chair.

What is the
source and meaning of חיבוט ערבות outside the מקדש?  The Gemara (Sukka 44b) calls this practice a מנהג נביאים (“custom of the
prophets”).  Rashi and other traditional
commentators understand this as meaning that the custom was instituted by the trio
of prophetsחגי
זכרי’ ומלאכי , who prophesied during the early Second Temple period and were
members of אנשי כנסת הגדולה.  However, barely one page earlier (44a), the Gemara indicates חיבוט ערבות is a זכר למקדש!  Indeed, Rambam and numerous other subsequent authorities
who discuss the practice of חיבוט
ערבות echo the Gemara on both counts, dubbing
the practice a זכר למקדש
as
well as a מנהג נביאים.  But performing a זכר למקדש
is
an act of דרישת
ציון, a response to Yirmiyahu’s cry that poor
Zion lies destroyed and abandoned with none seeking her.[2]  How could a זכר למקדש in
the spirit of דרישת ציון possibly make sense in the earliest days
of the Second Temple, centuries before its destruction[3]? 

Furthermore, why
does the Gemara ascribe this custom specifically to the prophets?  The intriguing term מנהג נביאים is not used elsewhere
in the Talmud.  While many familiar practices
are known as enactments of אנשי
כנסת הגדולה (the Rabbinic authority during שיבת ציון, whose
members included חגי זכריה ומלאכי as well as other leading scholars of that period), they are not
labeled as מנהג נביאים.  What significance is to be found in the
Talmud’s attribution of חיבוט ערבות specifically to the prophets of the early Second
Temple?

In addition, the
peculiar way we perform this custom – beating ערבות against the ground[4] –
also cries out for explanation.  What does
beating branches symbolize?  Moreover, if
the custom is intended to remind us of the ערבות ceremony inside the מקדש, shouldn’t we instead encircle and adorn
the שלחן with
our ערבות, just as the מזבח was
encircled and adorned with ערבות in the מקדש?  After all, we commemorate the practice of הקפות in
the מקדש (Mishna Sukka 4:5) by marching around the שלחן in very similar
fashion.  Why then do we commemorate a
ceremony of adorning the מזבח by beating our ערבות against the ground?

Affirming a powerful prophecy by acting
it out

I believe the
key to unlocking the significance of חיבוט ערבות may be found by
examining the visions proclaimed by the prophets of שיבת ציון.

The Second
Temple was built in a climate of intensely mixed emotions.  The austere structure of שיבת ציון paled against the splendid, opulent בית ראשון
constructed
by Solomon.  Celebrating their first
Sukkot shortly after rebuilding the מזבח,
the people of Ezra’s time offered the obligatory holiday offerings בְּמִסְפָּר
כְּמִשְׁפַּט דְּבַר־יוֹם בְּיוֹמוֹ – “by number, according to the obligation of each day.”  In contrast, Solomon offered such bountiful
sacrifices for the inauguration of בית ראשון that the capacity of the מזבח was
overwhelmed and more space had to be specially consecrated![7]  Moreover,
בית ראשון
was
graced with a visible appearance of God’s presence, ‘ה כְּבוֹד, with clouds filling the Temple upon its
dedication, just as occurred in the original משכן.[8]  No comparable revelation is reported for בית שני.  Accordingly, elders who remembered the
magnificent First Temple wept loudly over the Second Temple’s modest foundations,
and the inaugural ceremony was accompanied by a heart-rending mixture of tears
and rejoicing (Ezra 3:12-13).  To make matters even worse, Persia soon
suspended further rebuilding of the Temple
in response to slander against the Jews by their envious, non-Jewish
neighbors (see Ezra 4).

חגי פרק ב

(ד) וְעַתָּה חֲזַק זְרֻבָּבֶל נְאֻם־יְקֹוָק, וַחֲזַק יְהוֹשֻׁעַ
בֶּן־יְהוֹצָדָק הַכֹּהֵן הַגָּדוֹל, וַחֲזַק כָּל־עַם הָאָרֶץ נְאֻם־יְקֹוָק,
וַעֲשׂוּ – כִּי־אֲנִי אִתְּכֶם, נְאֻם יְקֹוָק צְבָקוֹת:

(ה) אֶת־הַדָּבָר אֲשֶׁר־כָּרַתִּי אִתְּכֶם בְּצֵאתְכֶם
מִמִּצְרַיִם וְרוּחִי עֹמֶדֶת בְּתוֹכְכֶם אַל־תִּירָאוּ:

(ו) כִּי
כֹה אָמַר יְקֹוָק צְבָקוֹת:
עוֹד אַחַת מְעַט הִיא, וַאֲנִי מַרְעִישׁ
אֶת־הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶת־הָאָרֶץ וְאֶת־הַיָּם וְאֶת־הֶחָרָבָה:

(ז) וְהִרְעַשְׁתִּי אֶת־כָּל־הַגּוֹיִם וּבָאוּ חֶמְדַּת
כָּל־הַגּוֹיִם וּמִלֵּאתִי אֶת־הַבַּיִת הַזֶּה כָּבוֹד אָמַר יְקֹוָק
צְבָקוֹת:

(ט) גָּדוֹל
יִהְיֶה כְּבוֹד הַבַּיִת הַזֶּה הָאַחֲרוֹן מִן־הָרִאשׁוֹן אָמַר יְקֹוָק
צְבָקוֹת וּבַמָּקוֹם
הַזֶּה אֶתֵּן שָׁלוֹם נְאֻם יְקֹוָק צְבָקוֹת:

I suggest our מנהג נביאים of
beating ערבות has its roots in this prophecy.  When חגי received these powerful words, cutting
to the heart of the difficult challenges that he and his generation faced, he responded
by acting out his own prophecy –
וְהִרְעַשְׁתִּי /אֲנִי מַרְעִישׁ, “God
will shake the heavens and the earth” – by striking the earth sharply with a
bundle of ערבות.[10]
 Using ערבות poignantly evoked the
similar branches that were used on that same day by the people within the מקדש to
encircle and celebrate their modest, fragile מזבח.

Prophets
in the Bible often acted out the imagery of their prophecies, as a way of affirming
and reinforcing their visions.  Ramban notes
this phenomenon in his commentary to the Torah (Breisheet 12:6).  One famous example
is even highly reminiscent of חיבוט
ערבות: Elisha instructed the King of Israel to bang arrows on the ground,
in order to affirm Elisha’s prophecy that Israel would smite and defeat its enemy
(Melachim II 13:16-17).  It is easy to picture חגי
following
in Elisha’s path and striking the ground with ערבות in place of
arrows, as an affirmation of his own prophecy ofוְהִרְעַשְׁתִּי /מַרְעִישׁ and
as a prayer to God that it be completely and speedily fulfilled.[11]

Thus,
חיבוט ערבות was from its very
inception both מנהג נביאים
and זכר למקדש – a זכר למקדש ראשון!!  Our puzzle is solved!  חגי and his colleagues performed חיבוט ערבות in the purest spirit of דרישת ציון.  Their ritual expressed a heartfelt plea for
the redemptive upheaval (רעש) that they envisioned, so that the full glory of בית ראשון could be
restored and exceeded.  At the same time,
the custom also served as a reminder of God’s command to חגי that we
strengthen ourselves and act courageously in fulfillment of God’s mandate to
continue rebuilding.

Although
בית שני was eventually completed, the longed-for glory of Solomon’s
era remained elusive. Judea was a vassal state for most of the Second Temple
period.  God’s presence (שכינה) was not manifest in בית שני, at least in
comparison with בית ראשון.[12]
 Therefore, it makes sense that חגי
and
his colleagues, and eventually all Jews, would annually repeat the custom of חיבוט ערבות outside
the מקדש on
הושענא רבה, affirming the
yearned-for prophecy on its anniversary.  To this day, in the prayer we recite just
before חיבוט ערבות – known as (“”קול מבשר) אומץ ישעך – we plead for complete and imminent
redemption by evoking “sounds” of deliverance including the earth-shaking upheaval
around Jerusalem foretold by זכרי’ , close colleague of חגי.  Like the original
prophecy of חגי, and much
like אני מאמין,
our custom of beating ערבות expresses both a prayer to God for redemption as well as
an uplifting pledge of faith and determination.

Our
novel interpretation also explains why the custom of חיבוט ערבות outside the מקדש is unique
to הושענא רבה.  The Gemara (Sukka 44a) explains why חיבוט
ערבות is performed on only one day of
Sukkot, as opposed to all seven days, but never explains the choice of which
day.[13]
 According to our explanation, the prophecy
of חגי
is
naturally reenacted and reaffirmed on its anniversary.  Intriguingly, Taz[14] suggests
חיבוט ערבות is
performed on הושענא רבה because of its unique holiness: יותר קדושה ביום זה.  Our proposal offers one way of interpreting
that special holiness.  הושענא רבה, the anniversary of בבית ראשון
חנכת המזבח
and
of נבואת חגי, is a day
of yearning for full redemption and the imminence of God’s presence – precisely
the theme expressed by חיבוט ערבות.

Counterpoint: who dares scorn the day of
small beginnings?

While
beating ערבות outside of the מקדש expressed a deep longing for more
completion redemption, adorning the מזבח with a beautiful canopy of ערבות sounded a complementary
note inside the מקדש.  I believe this latter
practice acquired particular poignancy during the Second Temple period,
precisely because nagging feelings of disappointment over the limited “glory”
of that redemption were so palpable from the very start.  As cited above from Ezra 3, tears threatened
to drown out the shouts of joy heralding the inauguration of the Second
Temple.  Likewise, חגי
in
his הושענא רבה prophecy hears God say: “Who among you remembers the
glory of the First Temple, and what do you think of this house now?  It is nothing in your eyes!”

In
the prophecy of חגי, God’s primary response to these feelings of disappointment is
a promise that the future can be brighter if the people will only be strong and
act with courage and faith.  However, in 4:10
זכרי’, we hear
a somewhat different response: כִּי מִי בַז לְיוֹם קְטַנּוֹת?  – Who scorns
the day of small things?  I sense a sharp
tone of rebuke in the word “scorn”: Who dares to scorn the גאולה of שיבת ציון simply because it appears “small” and
modest compared to Solomon’s empire?  Shouldn’t
the people be grateful for even the smallest beginnings of גאולה?  Perhaps
חגי
2:3
contains a hint of the same rebuke: is the nascent בית שני really nothing
in your eyes?

I
suggest that for the Jews of the Second Temple[15],
adorning the מזבח with ערבות
became a deeply meaningful way of expressing gratitude and appreciation for the
redemption they enjoyed, imperfect as it was. 
The ceremony became a way of saying: we will never scorn you, oh מזבח, you are precious to
us!  In fact, the Mishna (Sukka 4:5) records that when the
ceremonies in the מקדש were completed on הושענא רבה, the people shouted: יופי לך מזבח, יופי לך מזבח
(“beauty is yours, מזבח”).  The reason for this charming salute to the
altar is not discussed in the Talmud, and several commentaries have commented
on it.[16]  Personally, I cannot help but hear an unmistakable
echo of the “cheers of ‘Beauty! Beauty!’” foretold in 4:7 זכרי’:

מִי־אַתָּה הַר־הַגָּדוֹל לִפְנֵי זְרֻבָּבֶל לְמִישֹׁר וְהוֹצִיא
אֶת־הָאֶבֶן הָרֹאשָׁה תְּשֻׁאוֹת חֵן חֵן לָהּ:

Whatever great mountain
[obstacle] lies before Zerubavel –will be flattened!  He will present the cornerstone amid cheers of
“beauty, beauty!”

This vision of זכרי’
is adjacent
to his rebuke against those who scorn the day of small things.  The prophet’s message is that when the cornerstone
of the new Temple is placed, the proper response is joyous applause of “beauty,
beauty!”  Do not dare to be so ungrateful
as to scorn the modest beginnings of our new מקדש, thunders זכרי’!  I suggest that for the
people of בית שני,
the ערבות ceremony around the מזבח was an opportunity
to align themselves with those who gratefully cheered the cornerstone, and to
distance themselves from any thoughts of scorn.

Our
novel interpretation of the ערבות ceremony in the מקדש is further supported by the Gemara’s
citation (Sukka 45a) of Tehilim
118:27 – אִסְרוּ־חַג
בַּעֲבֹתִים עַד־קַרְנוֹת הַמִּזְבֵּחַ – as a source for encircling the מזבח with a canopy of ערבות. 

In
this section of Tehilim, familiar to us from Hallel, just a few verses earlier (118:22)
we read:

אֶבֶן מָאֲסוּ הַבּוֹנִים
הָיְתָה לְרֹאשׁ פִּנָּה

The
lowly stone once scorned by many is now the celebrated cornerstone!  This echoes the message and “stone” imagery
of זכרי’ that we
read above.  As Tehilim 118 continues, we
rejoice in this remarkable gift from God (23-24), we bless those who come
paying respects to the מקדש (26), and we gratefully salute the מזבח by encircling it
with leafy boughs (27).  The Gemara’s
citation of this excerpt from Tehilim as a source for adorning the מזבח makes perfect sense.

A Message for Our Own Era

We
have suggested a new interpretation for the mysterious custom of חיבוט ערבות, attributed by the
Gemara to the prophets of שיבת ציון.  We suggest the custom
arose from confrontation with the incomplete redemption of the Second Temple era.  The seemingly bizarre ritual of shaking
branches and striking the ground expressed profound longing for (and faith in) a
more perfect גאולה,
by vividly acting out the vision of חגי that one day God will bring a fully redemptive
“upheaval” when His presence returns to “shake” the earth and overthrow all
oppressors.  This same theme is
emphasized even today on הושענא
רבה in our prayers accompanying חיבוט ערבות.

At
the same time, we have also suggested that the related practice of adorning the
מזבח with
a beautiful canopy of boughs and shouting יופי לך מזבח expressed a complementary
sense of gratitude.  Even as the people
of בית שני pined
for complete redemption, they acknowledged the partial, beautiful redemption
which they had merited to receive, and did not dare scorn it.

How
fortunate are we in contemporary times, two thousand years after the Second
Temple’s destruction, that while still yearning for שלמה
גאולה, we can once again also express gratitude
for an imperfect but precious redemption already granted us.  Indeed today’s Jerusalem and Israel are
beautiful gifts – יופי לך
– as well as a work-in-progress.  As we
continue to beat our branches against the earth crying out for the קול מבשר heralding our ultimate redemption, and committing ourselves to the national
project of rebuilding (materially and spiritually), we dare not forget to appreciate
the remarkable gifts God has already bestowed upon us.

Mishloah Manot: An Insight of the Rav zt”l

By Nathaniel Helfgot

One of the abiding contributions of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik , the Rav zt”l, to halakhic thought was the introduction of the notion that there exists a category of mitzvot that though expressed in external action (maaseh ha-miztvah) is geared to fulfillment in the inner recesses of the heart and soul (kiyum she-ba-Lev). The external act is meant to engender and lead or in other instances to be a concrete expression of an inner emotional experience. Most famously the Rav developed these notions in relationship to the areas of aveilut, simchat yom tov and the experience tefillah and  teshuvah.  Rabbi Reuven Ziegler has noted that the Rav himself, (or in citations by students) used this distinction in print in relation to fifteen distinct mitzvot[1].

I would like to add one more to the list based on two unpublished letters of the Rav. In the year 2000 when I was deep into my research on the letters of the Rav zt”l for the volume that would be published in 2005 entitled Community, Covenant and Commitment : Selected Letters and Communications of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik )Toras HaRav Foundation-Ktav, 2005), I received copies of a number of letters that the Rav sent to Mr. Aaron Schreiber z”l in the mid 1950’s and early 1960’s.[2]  Mr. Schreiber z”l was a resident of the West Side of Manhattan and an active and devoted member of  the Rav’s celebrated weekly Talmud shiur for the general community held each Tuesday night at the Moriah Shul on West 80th street from  1952 through early 1980. The short letters were notes of good wishes and greetings for Rosh Hashanah and other events and thus not published in the volume mentioned above.

In two of these letters the Rav argued that the mitzvah of משלח מנות  also fell into the paradigm of maaseh ha-mitzva and kiyum she-ba-lev.

Below are the texts of the letters (including the original spellings):

1.                                                                                                             עשרה באדר שני, תשי”ד

                                                                                                                March 14, 1954

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Schreiber:

Thank you so much for the beautiful  basket of fruit which you sent us for Purim. We appreciate greatly the thought behind your kind gesture. As an attentive and intelligent participant in our weekly class, Mr. Schreiber, you certainly recall my remark about a unique group of mitzvoth which display a dual aspect; the technical performance asserts itself in a physical deed whereas the intrinsic content of the mitzvah expresses itself in a state of mind, a thought, a feeling or an emotion.

I believe that the precept of משלח מנות belongs to this category of  dual mitzvoth-the actual sending or giving of the present is an external act, in itself irrelevant, yet the full sublime meaning of it is attained in the manifestation of warm -hearted and sincere friendship. For such sentiments I am always very thankful.  Mrs. Soloveitchik  joins me in wishing you a very happy and joyous Purim.

                                                                       With kindest personal regards, I remain

                                                                       Sincerely yours

                                                                        Joseph Soloveitchik

שמחת פורים וחדות ד’ מעוזכם!

2.                                                                                                                                             

                                            יום שני, יג’ אדר, זמן קהלה תשט”ו                                                                                

  Dear Mr. Schreiber:

     We received the basket of candy which you sent to us for Purim. Permit me to convey to you and to Mrs. Schreiber our sincerest thanks for remembering us at this time of the year. The Halachah has introduced the  practice of  משלח מנות  as an objective symbol of a subjective feeling, as an expression of a sentiment, as a manifestation of friendship, the greatest of all gifts that human beings can bestow upon each other. As such we cherish your present  and are thankful for it.

                                                                    With kindest personal regards to you and Mrs. Schreiber, I remain

                                                                          Sincerely yours,

                                                                          Joseph Soloveitchik

                    

by Chaim Katz

בראשונה … 
רצין ועולים בכבש, וכל הקודם את חברו לתוך ארבע אמות זכה

 We read in the Mishna:

[The priests used to
compete for the honor of separating and removing ashes from the altar] by
sprinting up the ramp. Whoever was the first to reach the top four cubits was
entitled to remove the ashes.  Mishna
Yoma 2:1

One
of the first authorities to question the practice described in this mishna was
Eliezer ben Samuel of Metz who lived in the 12th century. He was a Tosafist and
a student of Rabbenu Tam. In his Sefer Yereim 
(Negative 311), he compared the description given in this mishna with a
conflicting description given in the Mekilta DeRabbi Yishmael: (Masechta
d’bhodesh parsha 11):

  מה ת״ל אשר לא
תגלה ערותך עליו שלא יפסיע פסיעה גסה אלא עקב בצד גודל וגודל בצד עקב

What do you learn from
the verse “don’t go up to my altar by stairs so that your nakedness isn’t
revealed near it” (Ex. 20:23) [1] – that one doesn’t take large strides when
stepping up to the altar, rather heel-next-to-toe and toe-next-to-heel.

Apparently,
the Mekilta DeRabbi Yishmael forbids not only running on the ramp, but even
forbids regular, normal, walking on the ramp.

Another
Tosafist, R. Moshe of Coucey (13th century) in his Tosafot Yeshanim on Yoma 22b
re-raised the problem. Over the years and centuries, many others suggested ways
of resolving this difficulty. [2]

A
solution occurred to me based on the idea that maybe the priests who sprinted
to the top of the ramp were acting improperly and not following the teaching of
the sages. Our sources report a number of temple practices that were initiated
by groups who followed their own teachings. For example: the practice of
lighting incense outside the kodesh ha kedoshim on Yom Kippur (Yoma 19b), the
practice of not offering the water libation on the altar on sukkot  (Yoma 26b), the practice of following a
different calendar and bringing the omer offering on Sunday (Menahot 65). [3]

Although
I don’t have a proof that the races on the ramp were improper, the Talmud
itself encourages this perception (Yoma 23a):

ת”ר מעשה
בשני כהנים שהיו שניהן שוין ורצין ועולין בכבש קדם אחד מהן לתוך ארבע אמות של
חבירו נטל סכין ותקע לו בלבו עמד רבי צדוק על מעלות האולם ואמר אחינו בית ישראל שמעו … געו כל העם בבכיה בא
אביו של תינוק ומצאו כשהוא מפרפר אמר הרי הוא כפרתכם ועדיין בני מפרפר ולא נטמאה סכין

We read in a baraita. It
once happened that two priests were racing up the ramp … when  one got close to the other and stabbed him …
R. Zadok stood on the steps of the temple and eulogized the slain priest:
Listen my brothers the house of Israel … All the people burst into tears. The
father of the young priest had meanwhile found his slain son in his death
throes, “The knife is still ritually clean”

The
obvious contrast between the father who “cared more about the purity of the
temple vessels than about the murder” and the people who were present listening
to R. Zadok and weeping, demonstrates that the priest (the father) didn’t see
himself as part of the community who was present in the temple nor did he share
the priorities of the rabbis. [4]

If
so, there really is nothing to reconcile: a priest is never allowed to run on
the ramp. Historically, there was a time when the rabbis had little control
over what the priests did. The Mishna is describing one of those times.
However, when the circumstances changed and the rabbis had the opportunity,
they stopped the racing and substituted the lottery in its place. [5]

The
Mekilta’s teaching is not quoted in the Babli, but is quoted in the Yerushalmi,
albeit in a different context. We read in the Yerushalmi (Talmud Berakot 1:1):

זהו שעומד ומתפלל צריך להשוות את רגליו.  תרין אמורין רבי לוי ורבי סימון חד אמר
כמלאכים וחד אמר ככהנים.  מאן דאמר ככהנים
לא תעלה במעלות על מזבחי שהיו מהלכים עקב בצד גודל וגודל אצל עקב.  ומאן דאמר כמלאכים  ורגליהם רגל ישרה.

One who stands up to
pray must hold his feet together. Two teachers: R. Levi and R. Simon. One of
them says: like angels. The other one says: like priests. The one who refers to
priests quotes:  “Don’t go up to my
altar by stairs” (Ex. 20:23).  They walked
with heel-next-to-toe and toe-next-to-heel. The one who refers to angels quotes:
“Their legs were as one straight leg” (Ez. 1:7)

It
isn’t very clear how to visualize that the kohen walking on the ramp towards
the altar, serves as a source and paradigm for the custom of standing with
one’s feet together during the amidah prayer. Many commentaries therefore,
found a practical difference between these two opinions: if we compare
ourselves to angels, then we stand with our feet together and parallel to each
other; however if we compare ourselves to priests, then we stand in prayer with
one foot in front of the other. [6]

The
Oxford manuscript of the Mekilta has a slightly different description of the
way the priest walked up the ramp. Based on the manuscript and a careful
reading of the rest of the passage in the standard editions, the comparison
between walking on the ramp and standing with our feet together in prayer is
much more straightforward: 

אלא גודל בצד
עקב ועקב בצד עקב ועקב בצד גודל

Rather toe-next-to-heel
and heel-next-to-heel and heel-next-to-toe

According to the
manuscript, the priest stood with his feet together before taking every step.
Instead of taking a full step (moving his heel about 20 inches) he took half
steps (moving his heel about 10 inches each time). [7]

In
addition, when the Mekilta teaches that the priest walked heel next to (בצד)
toe,  it doesn’t mean that he moved one
foot completely ahead of the other, with the back of the heel of one foot
touching or parallel to the top of the toe of the other foot. Rather the priest
took even smaller steps so that the length of the big toe of one foot was “next
to” or parallel to the heel and lower instep of his other foot. I experimented
and found for me, at each step my heel only moved forward  about 6 inches.  At this pace the legs are hardly parted.

This
is all to say that if you were present in the courtyard of the Israelites
(about 50 feet away from the priest walking up the ramp), you would see the
priest standing with his legs held together heel to heel 50% of the time
(assuming all steps took an equal length of time). Even when he was “walking”,
he moved his legs so slightly apart that he would appear to be standing still.
The long robe he wore that reached down to his ankles also helped to conceal
his movement. Picture the priest walking up the ramp as someone standing still
on a slowly moving sidewalk or some similar example. He looks almost
motionless, as he inches forward smoothly towards the top of the altar.  (I did a test on level ground.  Walking this way, it took me a little more
than three minutes to cover about 32 cubits).

It’s likely that both
amoraim in the Yerushalmi agree that we pray with feet held together parallel
to each other. They each  cite a
different pasuk, but they’re expressing the same idea.[8]

On the level of the aggadah,
there may be a different lesson from each teaching. We’re fortunate to have R.
Kook’s aggadic interpretation on the meaning behind aligning one’s feet
together in prayer like the angels: [9] 

המתפלל צריך שיכוין רגליו, שנאמר ורגליהם רגל
ישרה. הרגלים משמשים פעולת ההליכה ופעולתהעמידה. לפעולת ההליכה עיקר שימושם הוא
במה שהם נפרדים, בפעולת העמידה עיקר שימושם הואבמה שהם מתאחדים. במהלך שלמות האדם
יש הליכה, להוסיף לקנות שכליות ומעלות מדותיות. וישעמידה, היינו שהדברים שקנה יהי’
קנינם חזק בנפשו, לא יפסידם איזה שינוי וגירעון במצבו…
ובזההאדם
מתדמה לפי יכולתו לשכלים העליונים, שקניני שלמותם חזקים במציאותם, בהיות ג”כ
עיקרתעודתם לעמוד בשלימותם ולא להוסיף עליו.ובזה ג”כ
נכללת השתדלות האדם בתפילה שתהיינה מעלותיו קנויות אצלו ומוטבעות

Legs are used for
walking and standing. In the activity of walking, the legs’ usefulness consists
in their being parted; in standing, in being held together. To advance towards
perfection, to progress in virtuous conduct and intelligence, man must move. To
entrench in his personality what he has already acquired, man must stand still.
He must not allow any change for the worse in his circumstances to let him lose
what he possesses…Torah is essentially designed to increase man’s perfection
and exaltation. It is referred to as ‘a path’… Tefillah impresses virtues
already acquired making them stable and enduring. Here man is likened, to the
extent that he is capable, to the supreme intelligences whose perfection is
firmly ingrained in their selves – their intrinsic function being to preserve
their perfection, not to add to it [10]

I’m
not capable of extrapolating a similar lesson from the comparison with priests
walking up the ramp. However, I feel that we have a enough  key words to associate the way the priests
walk up to the altar with ideas like refinement, growth and free choice on one
hand, and ideas like slow change on the other. 
With this in mind we can at least get a fuzzy feeling for the difference
between standing with our feet together in prayer like angels and standing with
our feet together like priests walking up the ramp.

__________________________________________________

[1] I notice that in some humashim the pasuk is numbered 22 instead of 23. I was looking in some modern editions of Moreh Nebukhim, and saw two editions that reference this pasuk as 26 (following non-Jewish chapter and verse (?)).

[2] The common approach to synchronizing the two taanaitic sources is a compromise.  Kohanim may run or walk quickly on the ramp but must take smaller than normal strides. Another approach claims that the mekilta’s opinion is rejected and priests may run normally on the ramp.  Some present an opposite view and understand the mishna as a description of priests running towards the ramp, but not running on the ramp. And some interpret the mekilta to be talking about the altar itself – the kohanim may run on the ramp but may not take big strides when walking on the top of the altar.  I’m sure there are more solutions.

[3] Racing or competing seems very Hellenistic. Megillat Taanit lists a number of semi-holidays that were established when the rabbis prevailed over the temple priests. 

[9] The Babli, Berakot
10b, has the comparison to angels but not the comparison to priests. R. Kook’s
comment is printed in the Siddur Olat Ray”h , (in the anthology portion)
just before the Amidah.  This section was
probably taken from his Ayn Ay”h commentary on Babli Berakot #153. I don’t
have access to the printed Ayn Ay”h. The online version (without the editor’s
notes) is here.

[10] This paragraph is
the work of Rabbi Leonard Oschry, in his English translation of Netiv Binah
called Meditations on the Siddur by B.S. Jacobson, published by Sinai
Publishing, Tel Aviv, Israel 1966. There is also an English translation of R.
Kook’s explanation by Rabbi Chanan Morrison here.

By Marc B. Shapiro

(This post was originally part of the previous one, but since I know people don’t like reading posts more than twenty pages long, I split it up into two parts.)

1. I know that every year around Christmas time some people read my article on Torah study on Christmas eve. At the end of the article I raise the possibility that the various Nittel practices were actually based on non-Jewish superstitions. My suspicion was proven beyond any doubt in a wonderful article by Rebecca Scharbach, “The Ghost in the Privy: On the Origins of Nittel Nacht and Modes of Cultural Exchange.”[1] I recommend that everyone add this article to their “holiday reading”. (Due to reasons beyond my control, this post was not able to appear, as planned, before Christmas.)

As for our own holiday of Hanukkah, let me share something that I think people will find interesting. When it comes to the dating of various Psalms, for those in the Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist world there don’t appear to be any dogmatic issues involved, much like there are no dogmatic issues raised if one assumes that the prophecies beginning in Isaiah chapter 40 come from a later prophet than those in the first part of the book.[2] Nevertheless, I think people generally assume that traditionalists will not speak about “Maccabean Psalms”. (Truth be told, I don’t know if there are even any academic scholars that still identify some of the Psalms as belonging to the Maccabean period.)

See S.’s post here where he notes that Philip Birnbaum, in his siddur, seems to allude to a psalm as having been written in the Maccabean period. However, S. also quotes R. Samson Raphael Hirsch as stating that Orthodox Judaism rejects the notion of “Pseudo-Isaiah”, and of “Maccabean songs under the name of David.” On the other hand, R. Solomon Judah Rapoport believed that at least one psalm (and perhaps more) were written during the Maccabean period. He identified other psalms as dating from the Second Temple period and defended the religious legitimacy of this view. “If the sages of the Talmud advanced the date of a number of Psalms from the time of David to that of Ezra, a period of more than five hundred years, we must have no scruples in advancing them another two hundred years.”[3] R. Samuel Barukh Rabinkow also felt that “the religious value of any of the Psalms is independent of the time of its composition or any historical consideration or reflection.”[4]

I found a very interesting passage by R. Abraham Saba in his Tzeror ha-Mor.[5] He appears to be saying that Psalm 30, which we recite every day (and which many recite after Hanukkah morning tefillah and after lighting the Hanukkah candles) was written when the Temple was rededicated by the Hasmoneans.

אני סבור כי מזמור שיר חנוכת הבית לדוד נתקן על חנוכת הבית של חשמונאי . . . ולכן נעש’ נס בשמן והדליקו ממנה שמנה ימים ועל זה סדר מזמור שיר חנוכת הבית

R. Saba continues by explaining the various verses in line with this conception. Now I realize that one can argue that what he means is that David prophetically wrote the psalm with the Hasmonean rededication in mind, and this interpretation is actually stated by R. Abraham the son of the Vilna Gaon.[6]

Yet such an approach this does not appear to fit with the words of R. Saba:

נתקן על חנוכת הבית של חשמונאי

In his “translation” of this passage Eliyahu Munk writes: “I am convinced that David, in his holy spirit, foresaw such a period and dedicated Psalm 30, 1-13 to that period, therefore commencing with מזמור שיר חנוכת הבית לדוד ‘a song for the consecration of the House,’ the ‘house’ being the reconsecration of the Temple after the Hasmoneans’ victory.”[7] Yet all readers can see that in the original R. Saba does not mention David or his holy spirit.

R. Joseph Hayyim[8] believes that Psalm 30 as a whole was written by David, and he says it is possible that David also wrote the first verse. But he also says that it is possible that the first verse, which speaks of dedication of the Temple, was added to the psalm during the Maccabean period.

אפשר לומר לעולם דוד הע”ה לא אמר פסוק זה של חנוכת הבית, אלא גם הוא התחיל מן ארוממך, ופסוק זה בזמן בית שני כשעשה הקב”ה להם נסים וניצולו וחנכו הבית והמזבח מחדש הוסיפו על מזמור זה פסוק זה מפני שראו דכל דברי המזמור שייכים גם לעניינם.

He adds that this notion should not trouble anyone, as we know that according to one opinion in the Talmud the last eight verses of the Torah were added by Joshua, and he also notes that there were a couple of verses in the book of Joshua that were added after Joshua’s death. In other words, minor additions to abook after the death of the author are not religiously problematic.

Nevertheless, R. Meir Mazuz is indeed troubled by what R. Joseph Hayyim wrote.[9] He claims that the verses added to biblical books noted by R. Joseph Hayyim were added by prophets.[10] Yet in the case of Psalm 30, R. Joseph Hayyim is suggesting that an addition took place during Second Temple times after prophecy had already ceased and there was no longer the institution of anshei keneset ha-gedolah. According to R. Mazuz this is indeed religiously problematic. One can reply to R. Mazuz that while prophecy might have ceased, ruah ha-kodesh did not,[11] and therefore it was permissible for verses to be added to the book of Psalms even in the Maccabean period. After all, a standard view among rishonim is that the book of Psalms is not the product of prophecy but of ruah ha-kodesh.[12]

R. Mazuz adds a second reason why he cannot accept what R. Joseph Hayyim writes. He claims that R. Joseph Hayyim’s position will give support to the modern biblical scholars who believe that verses in the book of Daniel were added in the Maccabean period, a position he also finds religiously objectionable. I don’t understand this objection as the modern biblical scholars do not need, and do not look for, support from traditional commentators. They are completely oblivious to what rabbis like R. Joseph Hayyim have to say on these matters, and have no reason to cite his view as a support for their own position.R. Moses Isaac Ashkenazi discusses the authorship of Psalms in the introduction to his Ho’il Moshe on Tehillim (Livorno, 1880). Although he has his doubts, he says that one who assumes that Psalm 44 was composed during the Maccabean period “has what to rely on.”

So much for Maccabean psalms, but what about post-Davidic psalms in general? R. Ashkenazi identifies Psalms 79 and 137 as having been written during the Babylonian Exile. He also thinks that Psalms 126 and 129 might have been written then. He is led to his view because he can find no evidence that David was a prophet. While David had ruah ha-kodesh, it is only prophecy that reveals future events, and thus the psalms that reflect a post-First Temple era must indeed have been written centuries after David. 

As with R. Ashkenazi, his predecessor R. Eleazar ben Samuel Shmelke claims that Psalms 79 and 137 were composed after the destruction of the First Temple. He states that this was also Ibn Ezra’s opinion.[13] In Ibn Ezra’s introduction to Tehillim (which is not found in all mikraot gedolot editions) Ibn Ezra states that “others” held that Psalm 137 and a number of other psalms were written during the Babylonian Exile, yet he does not signal his acceptance of this view.

One of those Ibn Ezra had in mind who held that some psalms were written during the Babylonian Exile was R. Moses Ibn Gikatilla.[14] R. Raphael Berdugo also states that a number of psalms, including Psalm 137, were composed during the Babylonian Exile.[15]

In Rashbam’s commentary to Tehillim (which we can expect ArtScroll to censor if it ever publishes it), he points to psalms which were composed during the Babylonian Exile and also states that other psalms were written after Ezra’s return to Jerusalem. For example, Psalm 122:3 states: “Our feet are standing within thy gates, O Jerusalem. Jerusalem, that art builded as a city that is compact together.” According to Rashbam, these references to Jerusalem must date from after the return from exile.[17]

2. Here is a provocative passage quoted in the name of the hasidic master R. Uri of Strelisk (1757-1826).[18] Would any hasidic leader speak this way today?

והרה”ק מסטרעטן זצ”ל אמר משמו עה”פ שומר נפשות חסידיו מיד רשעים יצילם, שאמר: לפני ביאת המשיח יהיו רבי”ס רשעים גמורים ר”ל, אבל הן החסידים הם בתמימותם סוברים שרבם הוא עובד ה’ ולכן נוסעים אליו, לזאת התפלל דהמע”ה שומר נפשות חסידיו כי השי”ת ישמור את החסידים ומיד רשעים יצילם שלא שלא יכשלו ח”ו ברבי”ס כאלו

His comment was only applicable to the phony rebbes. But for an authentic rebbe it is worth travelling great distances and missing out on Torah and tefillah just to hear one bit of wisdom.[19]

אמר שיש ליסע לצדיק אמת אפילו אלפיים פרסאות ולבטל בהליכתו ובחזירתו מתורה ותפלה והכל כדי דיבור אחד של אמת אשר ישמע מפי צדיק אמת

3. Every year there is discussion about the moment of silence in Israel in memory of the soldiers and Holocaust victims, and we always hear about how this is not a Jewish thing to do. Here is a page from R. Ovadyah Hadaya’s Yaskil Avdi, vol. 6, p. 300 (hashmatot Yoreh Deah 2:2).

He regards the moment of silence as entirely appropriate, seeing it as similar to the silence in a house of mourning which shows acceptance of God’s decree.

See also my post here where I wrote that in November 1965 R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg gave a hesped for four recently deceased rabbis, among them R. Yerucham Warhaftig and R. Eliezer Yehudah Finkel. These latter two were good friends of R. Weinberg, and R. Weinberg’s friendship with R. Finkel went back to their youth. After the eulogy R. Weinberg asked everyone in the room to stand up. They stood silently for around ten seconds and then he asked them to sit down.

In this post I wrote: “I presume this was intended as a show of respect rather than as a moment of silence, since the latter could be done sitting down.” I now think that my statement is probably incorrect, because a moment of silence is also intended as a show of respect, i.e., the two are not in contradiction. In thinking of the story now, it appears that R. Weinberg’s request to stand in silence is really no different than what takes place in Israel.

4. A haredi biography on R. Isaac Blazer has recently appeared. Here is its title page.

Needless to say, R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg is quoted a good deal in the book. Here is page 410 which contains a picture of R. Weinberg.

 

The book does not mention that this picture first appeared on the Seforim Blog; see my post here.

In the quotations from R. Weinberg, the book has no problem making “improvements”. For example, R. Weinberg sometimes refers to R. Isaac Blazer as רי”ב, and the new book has altered this to הגרי”ב. R. Weinberg certainly regarded R. Blazer as a gaon, and he sometimes does refer to him as הגרי”ב. However, he did not feel that it was necessary to always refer to R. Blazer this way. The author of the book therefore decided to “correct” what R. Weinberg wrote. I guess this author (who is unnamed) did not think that R. Weinberg showed proper kavod to R. Blazer, which itself is a crazy thought.

Speaking of R. Weinberg and kavod, I think readers will find the following interesting. R. Weinberg stated: “We are all human. I too like kavod. I try not to chase after it, but if it is put on my plate, I will take it.”[20] How many other great rabbis would be honest enough to admit that they are not at the level of the Hafetz Hayyim and R. Elijah David Rabinowitz-Teomim,[21] and that they too like kavod? What R. Weinberg was saying is that this is normal and nothing to be ashamed of, and that for “mere mortals” what is important is not to chase after kavod.5. In my post here. I discussed Haym Soloveitchik’s newly published volume 2 of his collected essays. I neglected to mention that on pp. 285-287 he deals with R. Yitzchak Grossman’s criticism of one of his essays, criticism that appeared on the Seforim Blog here here. Soloveitchik shows his scholarly honesty in that he is prepared to acknowledge that in two of his criticisms Grossman is correct. He also responds to another criticism of Grossman, and I ask people to read what Soloveitchik says very carefully. It was precisely this sort of interpretation, now standard in the academy, that R. Samson Raphael Hirsch was so opposed to. You can be sure that if these words were stated by R. Dov Linzer or R. Ysoscher Katz, that a certain author, on a certain website, would go after them for “undermining the mesorah”.

Ben sorer u-moreh, according to the setam mishnah, nidon al shem sofo. This runs contrary to every principle in Jewish law and, indeed, in most Gentile law. People are executed for crimes that they have committed, not for crimes that they might commit–preventive detention for the criminally inclined perhaps, but preventive execution?! If I find tanna’im attempting to make the implementation of this law impossible, does it strain the imagination to think that they did so because it contradicts their elementary sense of right and wrong? I, for one, think not.

Rabbi Grossman argues that we find a similar ruling about nig’ei battim and there is no ethical problem in this realm. Indeed, there isn’t; however, no one claimed that all instances of “never was and never will be” (lo hayah ve-lo nivra) are a result of ethical issues. Only those in which we find this type of problem, such as ben sorer u-moreh and, to add to the roster, the “apostate city” (ir ha-niddahat) as R. Eliezer Berkovits has contended (as noted by R. Grossman). . . . An exegesis that makes execution of a law more difficult may be simply a matter of interpretation; an exegesis that makes execution impossible has that in mind to begin with. One plausible reason that one might have sought to render a Divine directive inoperable is that such a dictate appeared inconceivable for a just God.

6. I want to call readers attention to the recently published Kovetz ha-Mashbir, vol. 1, edited by Yissachar Dov Hoffman and Ovadyah Hoffman. This volume is devoted to the writings and teachings of R. Ovadiah Yosef and is full of valuable articles. It can be purchased at Biegeleisen.