Enayim L'Torah Parshat Vayikra/Hachodesh

What’s In A Name?

Shmuel Maybruch

Rashi commences his Perush al HaTorah with the celebrated question of Rav Yitzchak (perhaps Rashi’s father, but more likely the original author of the statement as it is found in Tanhuma Yashan [B’reishis, paragraph 11, see beginning of Taz-Divrei David al haTorah, ed. R. Ch. B. Chavel, and editor’s notes) emphasizing Parshas HaHodesh’s seminal role in G-d’s commandments to the Jewish Nation. It contains the inaugural commandment of sanctifying the moon that we, as a nation, were privileged to receive. Primarily, this refers to the responsibility of the Jews, represented by the Beis Din, to determine the beginning of each lunar month. However, the elementary understanding of the commandment does not exhort us to do Kiddush haHodesh. Rather, as Nahmanides (Ex. XII 2) spells out, the verse, haHodesh hazeh lachem rosh chadashim (ibid.) obligates us to perpetuate Nissan’s status as the first month.

Contrary to popular perception, this does not mean that there is a New Year in terms of counting years and one for counting months. The Jewish year begins from 1 Tishrei, Rosh HaShanah. However, we emphasize the prominence of the first month by viewing the others in terms of their relative numerical proximity to it. Nissan is not the first month of the year, but called "one" because of the prominent event that took place in it, the Exodus. This parallels our weekly calendar. Instead of giving each day a unique title, we highlight Shabbos by numbering each day by its propinquity to Shabbos. We use a similar method with our months in order to stress Nissan’s special status. (See Ramban, ibid. and more extensively in the beginning of his Drasha L’Rosh HaShanah).

Yet, as we know, common practice is not to use the numerical titles of the months, but to call them by the familiar appellations: Tishrei, Marcheshvan, Kislev, etc. This practice is sanctioned by the K’suvim, such as Megillas Esther, which use these designations. The Ramban (ibid.) quotes the Jerusalem Talmud which records the fact that the names of the months were brought back by the Jews of the Second Commonwealth when they ascended to Eretz Israel from the Babylonian Exile, in order to recall G-d’s kindness in redeeming them.

By doing so, however, Nissan is left bereft of its identity as the first month, since the numerical nomenclature became obsolete. Since this was part of the Torah’s first commandment to us, our ignoring it is troubling. Maimonides’ thirteen principles of Judaism ascribe the Torah with immutability, which disallows claims that the Torah’s charges no longer applies.

Because of this dilemma, R. Joseph Albo (Sefer HaIkarrim, III 16) concludes that the obligation to retain the comparative significance of Nissan was only temporary. We were required to replace Nissan’s prominence with Babylonian names in order to recall G-d’s more immediate benevolence in allowing us to arise from the destruction and establish the Second Commonwealth. With this he explains the prophet Jeremiah’s prediction that upon the Jewish Nation’s return from the Babylonian exile, they will not appreciate G-d’s might as evident from the glorious Egyptian Exodus, but its manifestation in His deliverance of the Jews from the exile of the North (Babylonia) (Jer. XXIII 7-8).

Alternatively, one could reason that the Torah’s designation of Nissan as the first month remains, and the entire question is in error. The addition of names has no legal ramifications. Our custom of using proper names for the months is not a halachic procedure and does not violate the mitzvah of retaining Nissan’s status as the leading month.

However, such a conclusion seems to be in direct contrast with the Gemara in Megillah which records differing opinions concerning the observance of Purim in a leap year, which has two months called Adar. Each of the two opinions designate one of the Adars as more appropriate for the celebration of Purim. The dispute is due to auxiliary issues and neither side views one Adar as innately "more Adar" than its twin. It is evident that Purim’s observance is not dependent on month number twelve, but on the month or months entitled Adar. If so, we have indeed replaced the mandatory numerical system of counting the months with new identities, effectively changing the celebration of a holiday, a halachic matter. Even so, it is plausible that the titles of the months really are pseudo-halachic. It is only Purim, of Rabbinic and post Babylonian origin, whose celebration is dependent on the proper name of the month rather than its sequential identity.

HaRav Hershel Schachter, shlit"a, (B’Ikvei HaTzon, siman 2) suggests a notable difference between classification of the change to names as complete or only with respect to Purim. During the days prior to the redemption from Babylonia, a baby boy born during the twelfth month would find himself a bar mitzvah on the same date in the same month thirteen years later, even if the thirteenth year was a leap year. His birthday remains fixed in the month number twelve. If the shift from numbers to names was not a legal alteration, then the same would hold for a contemporary newborn. However, if the two last months of a leap year were actually given the identical position, with both being Adar, then the young lad would find himself in a quandry concerning his bar mitzvah. Which Adar begins year number fourteen, and which one is considered "extra"?

This is akin to the uncertainty posed by bein hash’mashot. Halacha itself is unsure as to the nature of the limbo between one day’s end and another’s beginning. Ritva (Yoma 47b), which Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, zt"l, was fond of quoting, maintains that, indeed, the halacha recognizes it as an irresovable dialectic. Similarly, the demarcation of the thirteenth year’s closing and the next year’s dawning remains uncertain, compelling us to rule stringently in all situations dealing with his maturity until it becomes definite.

The new bar mitzvah should assume that he is required to perform all the commandments expected of a man, such as donning tefillin, during I Adar. Yet, he can not undertake any responsibilities contingent upon adulthood, such as participating in a minyan, until his birthday in II Adar. HaRav Mordechai Willig, shlit"a, (cited in B’ikvei HaTzon, ibid.) suggests that the prevalent custom of a bar mitzvah donning tefillin a month prior to his birthday might have its roots in this situation, which was subsequently expanded to all young men.

Modesty and Mazal

Shargi Goldenhersh

"Hashem called to Moshe and spoke to him from the ohel mo'ed saying…"

Rabbeinu Bechaya, in his introduction to Parshas Vayikra, is bothered by the word "vayikra." Why, he asks, did HaKadosh Boruch Hu need to call Moshe to the ohel mo'ed? This question is especially disturbing, he adds, since HKB"H already told Moshe in Parshas Terumah (Shmos 25:24) "V'noadti lecha sham, v'debarti itcha me'al hakapores mibein shnei hak'ruvim." Moshe already knew that he must come to the ohel mo'ed; why did he wait for Hashem's explicit invitation?

Rabbeinu Bechaya explains that there is one character trait which stands apart from all other such traits: middas ha'anava, humility. Although man is usually encouraged to take the middle ground and avoid extremes, an exception is made in connection with this particular middah. Man is encouraged not only to be an annav, but to be a shafel as well. Moshe adhered to this principle of "me'od me'od hevei sh'fal ruach," as the Chumash tells us, "V'haIsh Moshe Annav Me'od" (Bamidbar 12:3). Therefore, explains Rabbeinu Bechaya, although Moshe knew that he was not only invited to come to the ohel but was expected to do so, his extreme sense of modesty left him feeling inadequate to approach the ohel. Only after HKB"H called him and gave him explicit permission to do so did Moshe feel it appropriate to enter the ohel.

The question that may be asked is why is middas ha'anava different in its recommended performance from all other middos? Perhaps the explanation is that in order for one to be a true oved Hashem, a person must submit himself to HKB"H. Only someone modest enough to recognize his shiflus as a mortal being before HKB"H can truly submit his behavior, intellect, and emotions and submerge himself in the service of his Creator.

Perhaps we can see the idea of anivus in Parshas HaChodesh as well. The mitzvah of kiddush hachodesh has special significance, as it was the first mitzvah at whose institution all of K'lal Yisroel was present. The question is, what is the special quality of this mitzvah?

Rashi in Parshas Bereishis cites a Gemara which explains the pasuk, "V'es Ha'Maor Hagadol (sun)…V'es HaMaor Hakaton (moon)" (Bereishis 1:16). Chazal tell us that the initial intention in the creation was for the sun and the moon to be of equal size. The moon, however, protested, arguing that two kings cannot share one crown. Consequently, HKB"H reduced the size of the moon. Perhaps, the moon's flaw was that it demonstrated and act of ga'avah (arrogance). HKB"H punished the moon by humbling it.

The medrash compares K'lal Yisroel to the moon. Perhaps it is our obligation to learn from the moon's error and realize that we must constantly remain modest and humble. This is really the essence of K'lal Yisroel--to realize who we are and before whom we stand.

The medrash further tells us that when K'lal Yisroel acts like the moon, in a modest and humble fashion, we will prevail over Esav, represented by the sun, and the moon will once again regain its original size and glory.

The Sabba Kadisha, R' Menachem Nachum of Chernobyl zt"l, was fond of explaining the Gemara in Shabbos (156a), "Ein Mazal L'Yisroel," in this light. He suggested that the Gemara doesn't mean to say that K'lal Yisroel has no Mazal. Rather, when K'lal Yisroel feels the feeling of "Ein" - nothingness, a true expression of modesty - then that very "Ein" will be the zechus for Mazal l'Yisroel.

Reflections on Vayikra

Rabbi Eliyahu W. Ferrell
L'ilui Nishmas Reb Yisroel ben Liebe HaLevi Kittay a"h

#1] In his commentary to Vayikra 1:1, Rashi states that the use of the verb "Vayikra" conveys Hashem's affection for Moshe Rabbeinu. On the other hand, says Rashi, Hashem's appearance to the Gentile prophet Bilam employs the word "Vayikar," which connotes tum'ah (impurity) and ara'i (random, unplanned, and not necessarily enduring). Being ara'i is the opposite of being kavu'a, or planned and made to endure, as in a Kevias Seudah, a Diras Keva, or being Kovei'a a mezuzah.

We find other uses of the "Kuf Reish" root in the context of tum'ah and randomness/transience. For example, it is possible to become tamei from a "mikrei lailah" [Devorim 23:11]. Amalek is described as someone who was "Karcha," and Rashi explains that this can refer to "mikreh"--a random occurrence--or to tumah [Devorim 25:18].

Is there a connection between these two approaches? Is there some link between being tamei on the one hand and impermanence/randomness on the other?

Rav Ahron Soloveichik, shlit"a, wrote in Tradition [13:2, Fall 1972] that taharah is related to endurance and permanence, whereas tumah is related to deterioration and fleetingness. Perhaps this link can help us understand the aforementioned link between tumah and randomness/transience.

#2] There are three references to an offering being a "rei'ach nicho'ach": Vayikra 1:9, 1:17, and 2:2. Rashi explains [1:9] that it is a source of nachas to Hashem ["Nachas Ruach Lefanav"] that He said something and His Will was done.

It is noteworthy that it does not say that Hashem commanded or decreed: only that He said something. This is perhaps related to the definition of Chassidus that the Ramchal offers in the Mesilas Yeshorim, Ch. 18. [Of course, he refers to "Chassidus" as Chazal employed the term, long before the Ba'al Shem Tov]. The Ramchal states that the Chassid is someone who strives to give Nachas to Hashem. How does the Chassid do this? He reflects upon the behaviors that Hashem has explicitly required, figures out what OTHER behaviors would be pleasing to Hashem, and engages in them. Since providing this Nachas is a function of doing Hashem's Will even when it's not absolutely required, it's logical to employ the more general verb "said" (even in the context of a command) rather than the more specific "commanded" or "decreed." Indeed, we could perhaps apply our Rashi to optional behaviors and read it as follows: "It's a source of Nachas to Hashem that He said something and from that was deduced another behavior which is also His Will."

The Torah Temimah [Vayikra 1:9] cites a Gemara in Menachos [110a] which teaches in regard to Korbanos and Menachos that as long as one brings what one is able, Hashem [as it were] draws Nachas from any offering. The Gemara in Berachos [17a] makes a similar statement about the time one devotes to Torah learning. It seems to me that this is very much related to the concept of Chassidus. While the average person will settle for fulfilling the basic requirements of Halachah, the Chassid does as much as he can.

Ready, Willing and Able

Adam Korbl

The Medrash, on the opening posuk of this week’s Parshah, cites the following strange statement HaShem says to Klal Yisroel: "I have given you ten pure animals that you may enjoy. Three of these are within your reach: the ox, the sheep and the goat. Did I ask you to go out to the mountains and valleys to find a sacrifice for Me from all ten species? No! It is sufficient if you bring your sacrifice from those three that are readily accessible, those that you tend and feed."

The words of this Midrash seem perplexing. What is the Midrash trying to tell us, and what is its connection to the korbanos discussed in the start of the parsha?

The first mitzvah of korbanos regards an individual who vows that he will bring an Olah, a burnt offering, to G-d. Once someone has vowed, he is bound to fulfill his word. This is true to the extent that he can even be forced to do so if he chooses to renege. This may seem odd considering that the Torah states (Vayikra 1:3) that the sacrifice must be lirtzono. Rashi quotes the medrash that we force him until he says, "rotzeh ani". Who are we fooling? If he needs to be forced to bring the korban, he obviously does not want to!

The Rambam in Hilchos Gerushin (2:20) poses a similar question. There he writes that if a man refuses to give a get to his wife, a beis din is empowered to force him through physical means, until he states "rotzeh ani". This makes no sense! If we want him to give a get with his ratzon why then would forcing him make a difference? Who are we fooling – it’s not really birtzono?! In fact, the Gemara itself (Yevamos 106a) rejects its hava amina that a get can be obtained unwillingly and then goes on to formulate the procedure of force as a means of achieving a state of "acceptance". How can physical coercion lead to a true willingness to give the get?

The Rambam answers that man has an inherent desire to good and serve His Creator through shmiras ha’mitzvos. Thus, by forcing him we are merely revealing his true rotzon; this is viewed as if he did the action voluntarily. This idea can be illustrated through the following mashal related by the ba’alei mussar:

A sick person knows that every so often he will have seizures and begin to kick and damage the property around him. In order to avoid this, he asks his friends to hold him down when he enters this uncontrollable state and not to let him damage any property despite anything he may say to the contrary during his spasm. Sure enough moments later, the man enters a raging fit and begins to bang and strike the property around him. Immediately his friends firmly pin him to the ground and refuse to let him go despite his pleas to the contrary.

According to this p’shat the Rav z"l explained the Gemara in Niddah (30b). This famous Chazal describes how, before a person is born, the fetus is taught kol ha’torah koolah, but when the baby enters the world, all is forgotten. One must wonder what the point of teaching all this to a fetus is if the knowledge will be reclaimed upon birth? The Rav answered that this process demonstrates to us that Torah is an inherent part of us, imbued within us even before the time of our birth. We see clearly that although we may sometimes be distracted our true rotzon, is to connect to HaShem and His Torah.

This is exactly what the Midrash we began with is stressing. A person tends to look at avodas HaShem as burdensome. How can I be expected to daven three times every day? How can I control my midos every second of the day? How can I bring korbanos? What a strain on my hectic life! Says the Midrash no – HaShem only asks of you what you are capable of. He only asks you to bring korbanos from the animals that are "accessible" to you. Indeed all avodas HaShem is "accessible" – all we have to do is look within ourselves.

Halachic Discussion:

Needs Salt

Menachem Schechter

In this week’s parshah, the bris melach, the covenant of salt, is drawn between God and Bnei Yisrael- V'Lo Tashbis Melach Bris Elokecha Me'al Minchasecha.

The Gemara (Brochos 40a) discusses the necessity of preparing salt and/or liftan, the condiments eaten with bread, before breaking bread. While this requirement is irrelevant today when bread already contains salt, sugar, spice and other preservatives (Shulchan Aruch 167:5 based on the Gemara), Tosfos cites Rabbeinu Menachem who advises that we have salt on our table before making hamotzi anyway. This recommendation is based on the Medrash that the Satan pesters when Jews are unable to speak, in anticipation of hamotzi. The salt, which commemorates the bris melach, protects the silent and defenseless eaters from the uninhibited yetzer. The Maharshal (Tshuva 34), who contends the extent of the prohibition of speaking between washing one’s hands and reciting the brochah over bread, cites this tradition as a reason to permit speaking divrei Torah, a surefire defense against an irksome Satan, between netilah and achilah.

The Geonim, as cited by the Shibolei Haleket (141), adopted the practice of having salt on the meal table because of the comparison they drew, based on psukim, between one’s table and the Mizbeach. Besides teaching us the beautiful lesson that, with the proper intentions, we can elevate and sanctify the mundane eating of our bland food to resemble the bringing of a korban atop the holy Altar, this comparison established several other interesting practices. The Sefer Chassidim (102), citing the link between table and Mizbeach, prohibits the killing of bugs on the table upon which he is eating and further recommended the practice of covering knives during Bircas Hamazon, since the Mizbeach could not be hewn with metal equipment. [Presumably, this only includes metal knives.]

The aforementioned reasons for having salt on our tables does not explain our practice of dipping our bread in salt, however, only having salt on the table. This custom is introduced by the Magen Avraham (167:15), in the name of the mekubalim. The Ba’er Heitev (167:8) cites further kabbalistic sources which recommend that the bread be dipped thrice in salt. (Perhaps this is k'negged the three brisos where melach is mentioned: Vayikra 2:13, regarding the Mizbeach; Bamidmar 18:19, regarding the Kohanim; Divrei Hayamim II, 13:5, concerning Dovid HaMelech; which may correspond to the Kisrei Torah, Kehuna, and Malchus, respectively.) It would seem that the practice of dipping challah in horseradish or coleslaw, in the absence of salt, is misguided. Our dipping of challah in salt is not derived from the Gemara's discussion of preparing liftan, which accompanies bread to make it edible, but from a remembrance of the salt offered on the Mizbeach.

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