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This class focuses on mitzvot related to Korban Pessach, the Passover sacrifice. We will spend next week and part of the week after on other mitzvot related to Passover, and will see a few more Passover mitzvot later in our study.

Please read mitzvot 5 – 8 and 13 – 17.

This is the first time we have seen a series of mitzvot that together govern a specific institution in Jewish life. Try to read them together. Try to create an outline of the process of obligations related to bringing the Passover sacrifice, step by step, a kind of “how to” guide. Be careful, not all the steps are highlighted for you by the text.

We will start our class by cooperating to create that “how to” list. We will then go back to certain specific aspects of each of the mitzvot. We will end with a detailed discussion of the mishorshei hamitzva section of mitzva #16.

Listen to the audio class:
 

First, let’s try to create an outline of the process of bringing the Korban Pessach, the Passover sacrifice. If this list doesn’t match the content of the list you made, go back and check the mitzvh references to see how this works.

1. Form a chavura, a group of people who will jointly bring a particular sacrifice. (Mitzva #5). Each member of the chavura will have an obligation to eat the particular sacrificial animal the chavura brings. No one else will be able to eat that particular sacrificial animal.

Since certain people are not allowed to eat the Korban Pessach, there are some qualifications that need to be checked.

a. Make sure that everyone in the chavura is fully Jewish. (Mitzva #14).

b. Make sure that all men in the chavura are circumcised. (Mitzva #17).

c. Make sure no one in the chavura is an apostate or a non-Jew. (Mitzva #13).

2. Choose an appropriate animal, a yearling male kid or sheep. It may be taken from the flock owned by a member of the chavura, or it may be purchased. (Mitzva #5).

3. On the afternoon before Pessach, the 14th of Nissan, take the animal to the Temple courtyard for slaughter. Note that these mitzvot only apply in the time the Temple is in operation.

4. Take the carcass to the place designated by the chavura for its Passover seder.

There are detailed mitzvot about how to prepare the meat (mitzva #7):

a. Roast it whole on a spit.

b. Do not break any bones.

c. Do not use sauce or marinade. Do not cook it in water.

d. Cook it thoroughly. Make sure it is fully cooked, not partly cooked.

There are detailed mitzvot about what the members of the chavura cannot do during the evening (mitzva #6):

a. Do not go to sleep.

b. Do not leave the premises.

5. That night, eat the meat when the participants are satisfied from having eaten other things. Eat at least an olive’s bulk, k’zayit. (Mitzva #6). Do not leave any leftover meat. (Mitzva #8). Later in our study we will find a mitzva that if any is left over, it must be burned (mitzva #143.)

Let’s go on to the shorshei hamitzva, which the author treats as a unified whole in these mitzvot. (We’ll come back to the long discourse in mitzva #16.)

The author repeats one main theme: the role of these mitzvot is to remember the miracles God did in taking us out of Egypt. The author is less obvious about why remembering that is so important. He does extend the idea in his explanation of mitzvot 13 and 14: that the exodus from Egypt represents the moment that the Jewish people enter under God’s loving protection, “tachat kanfei hashechina,” and enter into a covenant with God committing to Torah and faithfulness. Those are crucial concepts in the formation and direction of the Jewish nation.

The author pursues another theme about the details of how we are required to eat the Korban Pessach. Because of the status the Jewish people enter, as those committed to Torah and faithfulness, the Jews become “free people deserving of greatness and kingship.” (Mitzva #8). We become a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” So we are required to eat the Passover sacrifice the way high-class people eat. We eat it roasted; it tastes best that way. We do not dilute it with water, we eat straight meat; ordinary people use meat as a flavoring in soup or stew because the meat is just too expensive. We do not break the bones; there is enough to eat without digging after every last drop. We do not take it outside the premises; ordinary people who have a treat take bits to share with their neighbors. This meal is the epitome of luxury.

Please note that, for all of that, each participant is required to eat only a k’zayit of the meat. And that is eaten only at the end of the meal, as dessert. In short, although the style of the meal is “as the upper class lives,” the actual expense of the Korban Pessach is not very great.

The author adds one more aspect to the requirement that we eat the Korban Pessach roasted rather than boiled: that it takes less time. It reminds us of the haste with which the Jews left Egypt. (Mitzva #7)

Now let’s go through the mitzvot one at a time:

Mitzva #5 is the requirement that we bring an appropriate animal to the Temple to be slaughtered on the afternoon of the 14th of Nissan.

In the dinei hamitzva section of the essay, the author includes some of the details of what the Temple courtyard was like on that afternoon. There were three lines of people with their animals waiting for shchita, slaughter. The levi’im were reading the psalms that make up hallel. Trumpets were sounding. It must have been quite a scene.

Our author is very fond of seeking out and quoting sources in the literature that describe vividly how the practice of the Temple was accomplished. There is a strain in the tana’itic literature that seems to preserve a living memory of Temple times, and our author quotes that strain whenever he can. That helps him draw a vivid picture of Temple practice.

The appropriate time for this mitzva is on the 14th of Nissan, “bein ha-arbayim,” “between the evenings.” In general, this refers to twilight time. Actually, halacha looks at time periods at the beginning and ending of each day very carefully. Early morning starts with dawn, when the first bit of sunlight becomes visible. Then comes sunrise, when the sun itself first becomes visible, followed by full sunrise, when the entire sun is visible. At the end of the day, there are comparable periods: twilight, when the sun begins to set, when the sun finishes setting. Each of these moments is significant for triggering various mitzvot. The problem is that the rishonim disagree about exactly when each of these moments occurs. The issue is much more complex than one would expect. Here, the author simply repeats the words of the verse, “bein ha-arbayim” and leaves it at that. It is sometime around twilight.

The punishment section of the mitzva is a little confusing, as it assumes information not yet presented by the author. We already know that there is no predefined punishment for failing to fulfill positive mitzvot. We know there are two exceptions, circumcision and this mitzva, which are punishable with karet. Now we add another concept, the distinction between acts done internationally, “b’mazid,” and acts done unintentionally, “b’shogeg.” There is a general rule that if a mitzva is punishable by karet if it was done b’mazid, intentionally, then breaking that mitzva unintentionally, b’shogeg, requires the violator to bring a korban chatat, a sin sacrifice. There are three exceptions, mitzvot punishable by karet if done b’mazid but do not require a korban chatat if done b’shogeg. These are the two we know about already, and blasphemy, mitzva #70.

This entire set of mitzvot applies to both men and women, according to the author. He does not explain why.

Mitzva #6 is the requirement to eat the Korban Pessach. The punishment section of this mitzva introduces a new concept. We know that there is normally no punishment for failure to fulfill a positive mitzva. However, here the author explains that the beit din has police power to force someone who says he will not fulfill a positive mitzva to do so. The beit din can use any kind of motivation up to and including physical force. This power exists in the theory of halacha. I am not aware of evidence of this having been done.

Mitzvah #7 is a mitzva to eat the Korban Pessach roasted and to refrain from eating the Korban Pessach if it is not roasted. The mitzva prohibits two things: eating the Korban Pessach if it was cooked with liquid, and eating the Korban Pessach if it is not cooked fully. The Torah mitzva here does not prohibit eating the Korban Pessach absolutely raw, but the rabbis do prohibit that.

I am confused about whether this mitzva is a positive mitzva, a negative mitzva, or both. It has a positive aspect, to eat the Korban Pessach roasted. It has a negative aspect, not to eat the Korban Pessach underdone or cooked with a liquid. It is atypical for our author to create an ambiguity like this; I think it is a function of his not writing as clearly at the beginning of this work as he does later. I may also be related to the issue of how many mitzvot this actually is. We will come back to the author’s discussion of that question when we are done with the substantive material about Korban Pessach.

The author restates the midrash halacha that explains why this mitzva prohibits cooking the Korban Pessach in any kind of liquid, not just water, even though the source verse only mentions water. The verb does repeat the word for cooking, “bashel m’vushal.” The midrash halacha often picks up on repetition like that to use as a source of further rulings. Here, the midrash assumes there must be more that one type of cooking, and so extends the verse’s reference to water to other types of liquids.

Mitzva #8 is a negative mitzva: do not leave any leftovers of the Korban Pessach. If there are leftovers, they should be burnt. That is like kings and other high-class people who disdain leftovers.

The punishment section adds another new tidbit of information. We know that there is usually no defined punishment for failure to fulfill positive mitzvot. It would be reasonable to assume that there are punishments for violating negative mitzvot, although we have not seen any yet. Sometimes the concept of a mitzva is expressed in both a positive and negative mitzva. Here, for example, there is a negative mitzva (not to leave leftovers of the Korban Pessach) and a positive mitzva (to burn the leftovers if there are any, mitzva #143). When the concept of a mitzva is expressed as a positive/negative pair of mitzvot, there is no punishment for breaking those mitzvot. I do not know why that should be.

Mitzvot #13, 14, and 17 explain that there are certain people who may not eat the Korban Pessach.

Mitzva #13 is a negative mitzva not to allow a “meshumad,” an apostate, to eat the Korban Pessach. The source verse says not to give any to a “nachor,” alien or stranger. The author explains this means an apostate. He does not define that term. In his time, where different religious communities were more clearly separate than in our times, the definition of an apostate was probably pretty clear – someone who had converted to a different religion. I do not know how that might apply under modern, more flexible conditions. Of course, this mitzvah only applies at the time the Temple stood, so that is not a problem at the moment. The author does not mention whether a non-Jew is permitted to eat the Korban Pessach. Rashi, in his commentary on Exodus, says the prohibition applies to non-Jews.

Our author explains by way of shorshei hamitzva that, since the institution of korban pessah represents the Jewish people entering the central covenant with God, it is logically inappropriate for someone who has rejected that covenant to participate.

Again we have a bit of new information in the punishment section. It is another exception to the general principle that breaking a negative mitzva is punishable. The exception here is that there is no punishment for breaking a negative mitzva if breaking it involves no affirmative action.

Mitzva #14 is a negative mitzva not to allow someone who is not fully Jewish to eat the Korban Pessach. The mitzva applies in two cases. First, it applies to a “toshav,” a non-Jew living under Jewish sovereignty who commits to belief in God as understood by Judaism, and commits not to worship idols. The toshav is not Jewish, however, and is not obligated to observe Jewish ritual law. As our author puts it, “it is someone who has resolve not to worship idols, but eats carcasses (non-kosher food.)”

The source verse for this mitzva also says not to give a portion of the Korban Pessach to a “ger.” Literally, ger means a stranger. In halacha, the word is understood in a number of different ways. For the purpose of this mitzva, the word ger refers to someone in the process of converting to Judaism who has not completed the process. In particular, it refers here to a male potential convert who has had a circumcision but not immersed in mikva. For the purpose of this mitzva, it does not mean someone who has completed the conversion process and is fully Jewish, who is certainly obligated to participate in the mitzva of Korban Pessach.

Since mitzva #17 is closely related by topic, let’s look at that next. It prohibits an uncircumcised Jewish male from eating the Korban Pessach. Even though he may not eat the sacrifice, he may and should eat matza and maror.

The author says that the same shoresh applies to this mitzva as applies to the prior two mitzvot we discussed. As to someone who chose not to have a circumcision but could have, that rationale makes sense. The author specifies that this mitzva applies even to a Jewish male who should not have had a circumcision, for example someone whose older brothers died from circumcision. (This probably reflects families with a propensity to hemophilia.) Here, the individual is fully Jewish and has done everything required of him. He in no way is excluded from the Jewish people. Our author does not follow up on this inconsistency.

Among the topics for further study in this mitzva is how this mitzva might apply to someone who himself is circumcised, but who is responsible for the circumcision of someone else and hasn’t done it. That person seems closer to fitting the shoresh our author explains.

This mitzva actually raises a case of someone who gets punished for breaking a negative mitzva: an uncircumcised Jewish male who voluntarily eats the Korban Pessach. This person is punished with malkos, lashes. There is a mitzva for beit din to administer lashes to someone who breaks a negative Torah commandment purposely. We will get to the mitzva that governs this late in our study. We will pick up more details of when such a punishment applies as we go along.

Mitzva #15 prohibits carrying the meat of the Korban Pessach outside the designated place for the group to celebrate the Passover seder.

Here the author gives several topics for further study: what happens to meat taken outside, what defines the designated place, what happens if there is a wall between the spaces designated for two groups and the wall breaks.

Here again we have someone potentially punishable with malkos for breaking this mitzva. Note here that the violator might be a man or a woman. The author refers somewhat obliquely to a definition of what it means to carry the meat outside the designated place; the definition of carrying it out is the same as the definition of carrying something for the purpose to violating Shabbat. The author does not tell us what it takes to violate Shabbat by carrying, though; he only says that the same rules apply. It happens often in the halachic system that two seemingly unrelated rules are linked in some way.

Mitzva #16 is pretty straight forward as it applies to the institution of Korban Pessach. The mitzva prohibits breaking a bone of the carcass. Topics for further study include issues related to defining what is a bone: Is it a bone if it still has meat on it? If it is sinew of cartilage?

That covers our author’s discussion of Korban Pessach. These mitzvot contain two passages tangential to that topic that still need our attention.

We noted that mitzva #7 was confusing. The mitzva is to eat the Korban Pessach roasted, not cooked in liquid or underdone. We were confused as to whether this is a positive or negative mitzva, and how to put together what seem to be three different concepts. That brings the author to a disagreement between Rambam and Ramban on counting the mitzvot. We are still early in this book, and the author’s writing style has not quite jelled, so his discussion here is not entirely clear.

Nothing in our author’s discussion explains how the negative and positive aspects of this mitzva fit together, but the author does expand on whether the two negative aspects, not to eat the Korban Pessach underdone and not to eat it cooked with liquid, are one mitzva or two.

We know that Rambam counts this as one mitzva, and our author follows that count.

Ramban counts these as two separate mitzvot. Ramban sees this as a case where two very different prohibitions appear in the same verse. Then, Ramban counts two separate mitzvot although Rambam sometimes counts one. For example, one verse prohibits bringing sourdough and honey on the Temple’s alter. Rambam counts that as one mitzva, but Ramban argues that, since these are such different things, they count as two mitzvot.

Another situation is where the Torah states a general principle with examples that are similar to each other. Here, Ramban counts only one mitzva, just as Rambam would. For example, both authorities agree that the verse requiring Jews to keep accurate weights and measures is one mitzva, even though the source verse lists different kinds of weights.

Here, the Torah says to eat the Korban Pessach roasted; the details are the prohibitions against eating it cooked with liquid or underdone (not really roasted.) Ramban interprets this as two disparate concepts expressed in the same verse, and thus considers these two separate mitzvot.

This discussion is a good illustration of why the enterprise of counting exactly 613 separate mitzvot is controversial. It seems perfectly reasonable to say that the two concepts here, not to eat the Korban Pessach underdone or cooked in water, are just two details of the overall concept to eat it roasted. It is not clear from our author’s discussion why the Ramban concluded these two aspects were different enough to count as two mitzvot.

In the case of Korban Pessach, there is a disagreement between Rambam and Ramban about punishment. Let us take the case of someone who eats a k’zayis of korban pessah cooked in liquid and a k’zayis of Korban Pessach that is not fully cooked, both at the same time. According to Rambam, since the person broke only one mitzva, he only gets punished once, with one set of lashes. According to Ramban, since these are two separate mitzvot, the person gets two sets of lashes.

Our author goes on to another aspect of Ramban’s approach in this passage: the notion that it is possible under certain circumstances to punish someone twice for breaking one mitzva. This happens when the Torah gives a number of examples within one mitzva. Then, a violator receives one punishment of lashes for each example violated.

For example, the Torah says a nazir may not eat grape products, and then lists various types of grape products. Ramban counts that as only one mitzva. But, according to Ramban, a nazir who violates it by eating, say, a k’zayis of raisins and a k’zayis of grape skins at the same time, would be punished twice by the beit din. Rambam would say that, since it is only one mitzva, it can incur only one punishment.

What I have said explains, I think, almost all of the author’s discussion of this topic. There is once sentence that does not seem to fit, and I cannot find a way to read it consistent with the rest of what our author says in this passage. That sentence begins, “V’amnam b’inyan hamalkos,” “In regard to the punishment of whiplashes.” (Feldheim translation p. 103.) If you have some insight into how to read this sentence consistent with the rest of the passage, please let me know.

One more small side point. In referring to Ramban in this passage, our text repeatedly says “zichrono livracha,” “may his memory be for a blessing.” We know this work was written in the mid-1200s because the author refers to the date of the upcoming shmitta year. And we know that Ramban was still alive then; he argued in the Barcelona Disputation about fifteen years later. Recall that our author, in his introduction, instructed copyists to correct errors. All of the manuscripts we have were written well after Ramban died. Probably, this phrase was inserted by copyists to correct something that had been true in the author’s day but was not longer true when the work was copied.

That leaves us with one more passage in this reading, the direct address our author makes to his son in mitzva #16. This is one of about twenty instances where the author addresses his son directly, in second person. Most of the other second-person passages are much shorter than this one. It gives us wonderful insight into the parent-child relationship. Here, the passage is also fundamental to our author’s understanding of the overall purpose of mitzvot.

Our author responds to a question: Why do we need so many mitzvot about Passover? Wouldn’t we have gotten the message with a mitzva or two? The substantive answer to this question is a very important piece of our author’s understanding of how the total collective of mitzvot operate.

There is a crucial link between one’s actions and one’s character traits. Our author believes that actions generate character traits, rather than character traits generating action. Thus, God requires many actions of us, in the hope that, by doing good actions we will develop good character traits and become good people. This is true even under the most extreme of circumstances. A person who is “evil of heart” will improve by doing mitzvot, because doing mitzvot will steer the person toward good character traits. On the other hand, a person of good character who is required by the ruler to do an evil job (tax farmer comes to mind) will have his personality influenced toward evil.

Our author cites gemara Makkot as saying that God gave the Jews many mitzvot in order that the Jews be meritorious. Do not mistake this for saying that, by keeping each mitzva, we accumulate points that earn us our way in to the world to come. Rather, by doing lots of mitzva actions, we have lots of opportunities to incorporate the moral lessons into our character, and acting on those characteristics and moral lessons will make us deserving of reward. Mitzvot that remind us of all those mitzvot, like mezuza or tzitzit, are important because they remind us constantly of the mitzvot, which, in turn, will help us develop good character traits.

We will come back and spend a little time thinking about the notion of trying to see some sort of root or purpose in mitzvot. Here, we can see that how one articulates the particular moral lesson of any give mitzva is very important, because that is what will define what character trait the mitzva encourages us to pursue.

The second striking feature of this passage is what it reflects about the parent-child relationship our author has with his son. In the father’s opinion, his son is hanging out with the wrong crowd. The son defends this behavior by saying that the less than stellar character traits of his companions will not rub off on him. His father is having none of it. He accuses his son of being childish and immature. He insists that the son is not immune to the influence of his friends, that many have tried to associate will people without having their bad traits rub off, and that those people have not succeeded.

We don’t know who the author’s son is spending his time with, only that his father does not approve. Yitzchak Baer, in his History of the Jews in Christian Spain (JPS 1992) explains the social conditions of the Jewish community during our author’s time. The remnants of the courtier class within the Jewish community were at odds with the more traditional, lower class members of the community. Baer quotes Ramban’s description of the courtier class: “men who do not pray, recite no grace over their meals, are not careful with their bread and wine, and secretly even desecrate the Sabbath – veritable Ishmaelites.” (p.106) Elsewhere, Baer also mentions sexual improprieties. Perhaps our author is worried about the influence such folks would have on his son.

For me, this passage sounds surprisingly familiar. I recognize the worried parent. I recognize the teen-age testing behavior. I recognize the predictable parental harangue, and I expect it will backfire, as these things usually do. There is one difference here, though. The father is devoting time to a joint endeavor with his son. What difference that will make we will have to wait and see.

Before listening to the audio class, read mitzva #4 in Sefer HaChinnuch.

The dinei hamitzva section of mitzva #4 is a little confusing. The author is working on giving us more information, and it is not so easy to follow. Try to read carefully and see if you can figure it out.

In mitzva #4, our author refers to an argument between Ramban and Rambam about exactly what this mitzva covers. This raises a topic that needs a bit of explanation, the notion that there are 613 identifiable mitzvot. We will take some time to discuss that notion in this class.

Then we will go on to our brief history of the literature of halacha.

Audio Class:
 

In mitzva #4, we are starting to get more content and more complexity. Here, the author inserts quite a bit of material in the introductory section, before he gets to the root/reason section. He begins to include excerpts from the midrash halacha to explain some of the dinim he refers to. The essay is not as tightly organized as it might be. Let’s make sure we can summarize the four sections of this mitzva. Then we will come back and note other interesting aspects of the essay.

1. Scope of the mitzva: This is a commandment on the ordained rabbis to follow appropriate court procedure in order to establish the beginning of each month, and to adjust the calendar to add a month when necessary to keep each of the holidays in its appropriate season. The source verse for this mitzva is Exodus 12:2, “this month shall be for you the beginning of months.”

2. MiShorshei hamitzva: Certain holidays need to come out at the appropriate moment in the agricultural cycle. Passover must be in the aviv, when the grain is just ripe. Succot must take place at harvest time. Someone has to make sure that the calendar keeps this all lined up.

3. MiDinei hamitzva: The details, for further study, involve the precise court procedure followed to determine that the new moon was visible and the new month had begun. Also, how, when and why to add an extra month, as well as how the new month was publicized. More details can be found in Talmud Rosh haShana, Sanhedrin, and Brachot.

4. The mitzva applies at every place and time that we have ordained rabbis under appropriate conditions. Therefore, only an ordained rabbi can violate this mitzva. Since it is a positive mitzva, there is no human punishment for breaking this mitzva, but the violating rabbi would be distorting the dates of the holidays for the entire community.

Notes:

Let’s look at this essay, to try to make sure everyone understands everything the author says. We will need to jump around a bit in our discussion of the essay, so we can get the concepts straight.

This mitzva has two aspects. First, the mitzva is to establish the new month. Second, the mitzva is to add an extra month to the calendar periodically so that the holidays come out in the right season.

The problem that makes this so complex is that we need to keep track of both a lunar and a solar calendar, and they do not match each other. The source verse for this mitzva is focused on keeping track of months, so it makes sense that there is a mitzva to determine the beginning of each month. This is also important because the Torah gives the dates of holidays in terms of the date and month. On the other hand, verses associate certain holidays with seasons and the agricultural cycle, so it’s important that the right month comes out in the right season, and that depends on the solar cycle.

A little later in the essay, the author explains why keeping these two agendas going at the same time is difficult. The lunar year is 354 days, 8 hours, and 876 chalakim. (A chelek is 3.5 seconds long, a time period determined by the astronomy necessary to calculate all this.) The solar year is 10 days, 21 hours and 201 chalakim longer. They don’t match. If we were to base the calendar entirely on the lunar cycle, and keep each month accurate, we would pretty soon have the holidays in the wrong seasons. (The Moslem calendar, for example, is entirely a lunar calendar. The Moslem holidays drift from season to season.) But the source verse of this mitzva requires us to recognize each month. The solution is to add an extra month to the year every so often, to keep the two cycles coordinated with each other. Figuring out how to do that, says our author, is really difficult, and should be left to great, pious scholars.

In practice, we do this by adding an extra month of Adar periodically. Adar is the month chosen because it is close to Passover. Our author explains that the rabbis can only add a whole month; they cannot add a different period of days or hours.

To explain these rules, the author quotes the midrash halacha. The author also cites the midrash halacha in explaining why only ordained rabbis can set the calendar and declare new months. This is a genre to tana’itic literature that attributes various rules to Biblical verses even if the rules are not obvious from the plain meaning of the verse. (If you are not yet familiar with midrash halacha or tana’itic literature, we will put them in some context when we discuss the history of halachic literature, which we will do shortly. We will see lots more examples of midrash halacha all through our text.) In trying to understand the midrash halacha, it is important to read the source verse that the author cites very carefully. Usually, there is something awkward or extra in the language of the verse that the rabbis interpret as conveying details of the rules for a particular mitzva.

The method for declaring the new months is another major theme of this essay. Declaring the new moon must be done during the day, not at night. Since the court knew when the new moon was expected to within a day or two, the judges were in court, ready and waiting. Two male Jewish witnesses came to the court, declaring that they had seen the new moon, and gave formal testimony to that effect before the judges. If the judges are satisfied with the testimony, they declare the new month, saying, “Today is holy.” The judges examine the witnesses very carefully, as it was considered a great honor to be one of the witnesses to the new moon and so the rabbis were concerned that witnesses who had not actually seen the new moon would come and try to testify so as to be the honored witness.

Although getting the testimony of the new moon was important, it did not normally override Shabbat. However, during two months of the year, witnesses who saw the new moon could violate Shabbat to go to court so the court could declare the new moon as soon as possible. Those months were Tishrei and Nissan, two months which had holidays come out in mid-month. (Tishrei has succot, Nissan has Passover.) The news of the new month had to get out to the Jewish communities farthest away from Jerusalem, and, if the news was to get there in time for the Jews living there to celebrate those holidays at the right time, there was no time to waste at the beginning of the process.

Once the new month has been declared, the court had to publicize the event so that people would know what date they were up to. Note that, under this system, most people did not know it was rosh chodesh, the new moon, until the day was over or nearly over.

At the end of the first paragraph of this essay, the author points out that even when the court was still in the business of declaring the new month, they would sometimes declare the new month even though there were no witnesses. For example, the weather might have blocked the view of the new moon, or the new moon appeared but no qualified witnesses came to testify to its appearance. The rabbinical court knew when the new moon should appear, and the calendar had to be kept straight even if no witnesses appeared, so the court would sometimes declare the new moon even without witnesses.

The job of officially declaring the new moon in given to ordained rabbis, smuchim. No one else could do it. Smicha is rabbinic ordination passed on as part of a direct line from teacher to student all the way back to Moshe. It could be bestowed only in Israel, although the recipient did not have to be in Israel. It involved a beit din of three, including at least one member who had smicha. Having smicha qualified the new rabbi to decide questions of halacha in front of his teachers. Smicha was an absolute requirement for membership in the Sanhedrin, although not everyone with smicha was qualified to serve on the Sanhedrin. The administration of smicha died out, probably late in the Roman period. (The Encyclopedia Judaica article extends the end date several centuries later.) Nowadays, although we call rabbinic ordination by the same term, it is not really the same institution. (Current ordination conveys much more limited powers. The recipient is qualified by his teacher to decide questions of Jewish law, but usually only as to narrow and specified topics, often described by designating the topic by their pages in the Shulchan Aruch.) The mitzva we are looking at obligates only those with direct original smicha.

Semicha could only be conferred in Israel. Our author says that a rabbi who had semicha could declare the new month outside of Israel, but only if no greater authority was available in Israel.

With the demise of smicha, a different system was needed, and our author deals with that topic. He explains that Hillel haNasi, son of R. Yehuda haNasi, instituted a calendar calculation that could be used in perpetuity. Hillel haNasi had the authentic semicha. This is the calendar we are still using.

In this mitzva/essay, we have the first mention by our author about a dispute about the count of the mitzvot. That gives us an opportunity to discuss the notion that there are precisely 613 identifiable mitzvot in the Torah. Let’s get some background about that concept, and then come back to this particular case. (My discussion is based mostly on Charles Chavel’s introduction to his translation of Maimonides Sefer haMitzvot.)

The Gemara in Makkot 23b quotes a statement: “Rabbi Simlai explained: There are 613 mitzvot that were told to Moshe, 365 negative commandments to correspond with the days of the solar year, and 248 positive commandments to correspond to the organs of the human body.” Rabbi Simlai lived in the second half of the third century, in Israel. Bits and pieces of these concepts appear earlier in rabbinic literature, but this is the first source that pulls them together.

As a drash, this statement is fairly easy to understand. There is a prohibition for every day of the year. There is a positive mitzva for each part of a person’s body. Every day, with each every part of your body, there are mitzvot to be done.

The question is whether to go beyond the homiletical point. Is R. Simlai really saying that it is possible to read the Torah and count exactly 613 mitzvot, no more and no less? Or is that notion only symbolic.

Avraham ibn Ezra thought that sometimes a homiletic is just a homiletic. He claims there is no exact count of the mitzvot of the Torah because there are so many different ways of counting, and that if one established principles of counting the mitzvot that apply for an extended period of time and reflect principles rather than details, one would not end up with 613. For example, (my example, not his) consider the prohibition of melacha, work, on Shabbat. The mishna says there are 39 categories of melacha. Several of those categories have distinct subcategories, and all of those categories and subcategories are considered prohibited from the Torah. So how would you count the number of prohibitions? Is it one? 39? 39 plus all the sub-categories? With that many options, it is a little silly to try to get your count to coincide with R. Simlai’s assertion. There is just too much wiggle room.

During the early Middle Ages, though, there began to be lists of mitzvot that added up to the exact numbers R. Simlai mentioned. Mostly those lists appeared in the poetic literature, rather than as serious, systematic halachic argument.

Maimonides saw those poems and objected. Many of the lists were clearly in error. For example, some included mitzvot that clearly originated later than the Biblical period, like mitzvot related to the holidays of Chanuka and Purim. As he was finishing his Mishna Torah, he decided to list the mitzvot and give a very brief explanation of each one. This appeared as an introduction to Mishna Torah, called Sefer haMitzvot. But it was much more methodologically careful than the earlier counts.

Once a serious scholar took on this challenge, other followed. In particular, Ramban wrote a systematic critique of the Rambam’s list, and disagreed in many places. These disagreements were systematic, each scholar having a set of principles for what counted as a mitzva and what did not.

Our author follows the Rambam’s count of the mitzvot as it appears in the Sefer haMitzvot, and he relies heavily on the content of that work as a basis for his own work. But he frequently cites the Ramban’s disagreeing opinion. Passages like the one we find in this mitzva come up over and over in this work.

Here, Ramban counts two separate mitzvot rather than one: 1. To declare the new moon, 2. To add a leap-month to the calendar to keep the months lined up with the seasons. From what our author says, this seems to be based on the fact that these two jobs are mentioned in two different verses. There may be more to it than that. We will see more of these disagreements as to what counts as a mitzva as we go along, and will see some of the principles on which Ramban and Rambam disagree.

Brief History of Halachic Literature

Jewish law begins with the Torah. Our tradition assumes that Moshe is the only one who communicated God’s laws to the Jewish people. (The term “torah shebichtav,” written torah, refers to the Bible, as written, and nothing else. Everything else in our long tradition is called “torah sheb’al peh,” Oral Torah. Only the first five books of the Bible are a direct source of halacha.) Scholars date the period of the exodus from Egypt at about 1200 B.C.E.

We can read the verses of the Torah and get an impression of what we are required to do. It seems logical that, aside from the exact text of the Torah, Moshe got more guidance from God on how to interpret and apply the mitzvot. When we get to the mitzva of kosher slaughtering animals for food, we will find a verse requiring that we “slaughter animals as I (God) have instructed you.” (See mitzva #451.) But no verse contains such instructions. That is an indication that Moshe got more than just what was written in the Torah. But we do not know just what else Moshe got. (There are a variety of opinions in later sources, but that is beyond the scope of our introduction.)

The next 800 – 1000 years are the “black hole” in the history of halacha; we know almost nothing about how Jewish law developed during that period. The rest of the Bible gives us only tiny tidbits of information from this very long period. For example, in the book of Ruth, we have echoes of conversion, and echoes of levirate marriage. We know that there was, for a time, an institution called Anshei Knesset haGedola, “The Men of the Great Assembly.” They are associated with the period of Ezra, but we do not know how long the institution lasted. They are credited with having taken steps to standardize texts for prayer, and probably helped canonize the Bible, but otherwise we know very little about what they did. We also know that at one point, a lost book, a “sefer torah,” was discovered in the Temple. When it was read to the people, they cried because of all the laws in that book that they had not known about. See II Kings 22. Apparently, the book was part of Chumash. We have no independent halachic literature from this period.

We pull out of the black hole into the era of the tana’im, “those who study.” The literature of this era is called “tanaitic literature.”

In about the year 200 C.E., R. Yehuda haNasi decided to write a summary of the legal disputes and rulings that had developed to date. The result was the Mishna. The Mishna is written in clear, simple Hebrew. It reflects a carefully reasoned, fully developed legal system, presented and organized logically and systematically. We do not know much about how the Mishna was composed. It was probably selected from a variety of parallel oral traditions extant at the time, then re-stated by R. Yehuda.

Once the Mishna was composed, other scholars began to collect parallel legal material that did not appear in the Mishna. These collections were called tosefta, “additions”. Each thought unit in the tosefta is called a beraita, “outside.” Later scholars used both Mishna and tosefta as authoritative, giving only slightly greater weight to mishnaic material.

There were two other genres of tanaitic material that began to appear in written collections during this same period. They were the midrash halachah and the midrash aggada. These were distinguished from the material in the Mishna and tosefta in that they were organized as commentary on the Torah. Midrash aggada is primarily concerned with the narrative sections of the Torah, and has had a limited impact on the later development of halacha. Midrash halacha, however, deals with deriving rules from the Torah verses that are not obvious on a first reading. (Our author has given us some examples of midrash halacha already, and we will see lots more as our study goes on.) Typically, the midrash halacha finds some peculiarities in verses, for example extra words, grammatical anomalies, etc., and then connects those to rules about the particular mitzva being discussed.

It must have taken quite some time for all of this halachic material to develop. We do not know how long. It is possible that some of it, or even all of it, dates back to the time of Moshe. It is also possible that the material developed in the century or two before it was all written down.

Let us distinguish two types of rules to be found in all of this literature. The most binding category is d’oraita, “from the Torah.” This category covers commandments found directly in the Torah and commandments derived from the Torah and explained in the midrash halacha. Closely related is the category of “halacha l’Moshe miSinai,” law from Moshe at Sinai. Typically, the rules in this category have no obvious textual source, but are not controversial. Distinguish these categories from law considered “derabanan,” “from the rabbis.” This is not commanded by God, but legislated or interpreted by later rabbis. As such, it is less authoritative than d’oraita material. This summary is overly simple, and the line between d’oraita and derabanan is not always clear. We shall spend lots of time making these distinctions in specific cases.

Legal discussion over the course of the next four hundred years or so was structured around and began from analysis of the Mishna. As recorded, these discussions comprise the Gemara (Aramaic for “the study.”) Mishna and Gemara taken together comprise the Talmud. There were two parallel schools each of which produced a gemara: Palestinian sages authored the Talmud Yerushalmi, Jerusalem Talmud; Babylonia scholars produced the Talmud Bavli, Babylonian Talmud. Not much is known about how the Gemara developed: when it was compiled, what potential material was omitted, who compiled it, where, what editing principles were used. For various reasons, Talmud Bavli had much more influence on later halacha than Talmud Yerushalmi. The literary style of the Talmud is complex, more like the minutes of an ongoing discussion than like a polished literary presentation. Following that discussion is made especially challenging because the text had no punctuation. (Punctuation had not been invented yet.) The discussion is mostly quite serious, but sometimes veers off into less formal material: stories, legends, jokes, etc.

The next important contributors to the development of halacha were the geonim, the heads of the Babylonian academies through approximately the year 1000. They may have had a hand in the final editing of the Talmud. And they wrote responsa, answers to letters requesting religious advice and legal rulings, a literary form which continues in use to the present day.

The period of the geonim gave way to the period of the rishonim, “first ones,” with the shift of the center of Jewish scholarship from Babylonia and southern Europe. (Our author is a rishon, but, of course, he didn’t know that. That name comes in only at the end of the period.) These scholars, each in his own way, attempted to elucidate areas which remained unclear and to put earlier material into a more accessible form.

Some scholars concentrated on explaining the Gemara. Rabbi Solomon ben Isaac (1040 – 1105), known by his acronym, Rashi, wrote a line-by-line explanation of most of the Talmud, explaining the flow of the argument and the policies and principles behind various opinions. Rashi’s physical and academic descendants in the next few generations took a somewhat different approach in their compiled commentary on the Talmud, called tosafot (“additions.”) Tosafot sometimes explains and supports Rashi’s opinion, and sometimes disagrees with Rashi. It often looks to other Talmudic passages that, by way of comparison or contrast, shed light on the text at hand. While Rashi was primarily interested in the flow within a particular passage, tosafot attempt to fit the various related discussions in the Talmud together into a consistent whole.

The gemara has a conversational organizational structure, not subject to easy organization. As commentaries on gemara increased, there was a vast amount of halachic material that was hard to find. So another major enterprise of the rishonim was to write legal codes. R. Isaac Alfasi, (1013 – 1103), “the Rif,” was the first of the codifiers. He kept the organization of the gemara, but cut out the material in the gemara that did not determine the actual halacha. Rambam (1135 – 1204) followed with a much more ambitious code, the Mishna Torah. He created an original organizational structure, and included halacha covering all areas, including Temple practice and sacrifices. Rambam intended that his book would displace previous Jewish legal sources for all but the most erudite. In this he failed, but his work remains a model of clear organization, thinking, and expression. Our author mentions both of these teachers as major sources for his own thinking.

This is really all the background history we need to understand Sefer haChinnuch; we have reached our author’s time period. But let’s spend a few minutes on the development of halachic literature from then to now.

The last of the major codes of the rishonim was the Arba’ah Turim, written by R. Jacob ben Asher of Toledo, Spain (1268 – 1340). His code was based on Talmudic sources and opinions of prior rishonim, and the author outlined some of the extensive disagreements between them. It used a new and original organization that served as a base structure for later works.

Two hundred years later, there was again a need to consolidate newly developed material. R. Joseph Caro (1488 – 1575), a scholar and mystic who lived in Safed, took on the job. He wrote the Beit Yosef, a detailed and extensive commentary on the Arba’a Turim, analyzing it and supplying sources. But the literature was too vast for the layman, who needed a decisive conclusion. For them, Caro produced the Shulchan Aruch (“the set table”), a compendium of the conclusions he reached in the Beit Yosef. It followed the organization of the Arba’a Turim. He intended that people would review the Shuclhan Aruch every month or so, so that they would know what to do and what not to do.

The Shulchan Aruch was not easily accepted. Caro was a member of the Spanish, Sephardi community, and the Shulchan Aruch did not include Polish-German, Ashkenazi, practice. R. Moshe Isserles (1520 – 1572), of Poland, a contemporary of Caro, came to the rescue. He saw a need for a simplified guide, and was sufficiently impressed with Caro’s work that, rather than writing an independent work, he wrote additions to the Shulchan Aruch. These glosses, called the “Mappa,” “table cloth,” outline areas where Polish practices differed from Spanish practices, and some areas where Isserles disagreed with Caro. The Mappa is printed interspersed in the text of the Shulchan Aruch in all modern editions. With these additions, the Shulchan Aruch attained a predominance it still retains, not as a handbook but as a scholarly work.

The Shulchan Aruch marked the end of the period of the rishonim; subsequent scholars are referred to as achronim (“later ones”). This was the final transition in a series of perceived changes in levels of competence that began much earlier. The sages who contributed to the gemara did not contradict a Mishna or beraita without an earlier source to depend on. The rishonim felt bound by the Talmud, and rarely took a position that could not be defended as a logical deduction from Talmudic discussion. The achronim felt themselves to be of lesser learning that the rishonim, and hesitated to take a position that could not at least arguably be supported by opinions of the rishonim. This hierarchy is one of respect rather than direct authority; the current scholar, by virtue of his cumulative knowledge of the entire legal development, has full power to make independent legal decisions binding on his constituents.

Here is a list of terms related to the history of Halachic literature. See if you can pick up definitions as we talk, and then we will review them at then end of our discussion.

D’oraita

Derabanan

Tan’aim

Mishna

Tosefta

Bereita

Midrash halacha

Midrash aggada

Amoraim

Gemara

Talmud

Rashi

Tosafot

Rishonim

Achronim

Before you listen to the class, Please read mitzvot #2 – 3, as well as the two short introductions. These appear in the Feldheim translation on pages 2 – 5 and 52 – 55. We will return to the longer introduction later on.

You will find more information about these mitzvot than we found in mitzva #1. But please follow the procedure from class #1; find the four sections of each mitzva and try to articulate briefly the main idea of each section.

In the “punishment” section of mitzvot 2 and 3, you will find some confusing concepts. See if you can articulate the questions you have about them. As we mentioned earlier, the author teaches us about punishments piecemeal, one little bit at a time, as they come up. If we keep track of them carefully, we will end up will a comprehensive guide to the topic.

Audio class:
 

This class will focus on mitzvot 2 through 3, and on the two short introductions.

As we did last time, we will identify and restate the four parts of these two essays, to make sure everyone knows how to do that.

Mitzvah #2 is circumcision.

This is a positive mitzva to circumcise every Jewish male. It is based in the verse in Genesis 17:10, where God commands Abraham to circumcise the male members of his household. The author provides the biological details of the required surgery.

Among the roots of this mitzva is the notion that God wants the Jews set themselves aside physically just as they are set aside spiritually. Also, this action perfects the human body. Thus, this process should serve as a model: just as the Jews are required to perfect themselves physically, they should realize that they can and should perfect themselves spiritually.

Among the laws of this mitzva that deserve further study are: who has the mitzva to circumcise children and slaves, when Shabbat and holidays are set aside in order to do a circumcision, under what circumstances the circumcision for an infant is delayed beyond the eighth day. These topics can be found in gemara Shabbat chapter 4 and in gemara Yevamot. The author then goes on to describe the blessings and some of the text of the circumcision ceremony.

This mitzva applies in all times and places, to men but not to women. If the father does not arrange for the circumcision of his son, it is the job of the beit din to take care of it. If an adult, that is a male 13 years plus 1 day old, has not been circumcised, it becomes his own responsibility to arrange to be circumcised. A father who does not arrange for the circumcision of his son disobeys a positive commandment for which there is no punishment. An adult who does not arrange for his own circumcision has violated the same positive commandment, but is punishable by karet. This is one of two positive mitzvot punishable by karet, the other being failure to bring the Passover sacrifice, Korban Pesach.

Notes:

There is a lot more information in this mitzva essay than there was in the first one, although it is still somewhat less than satisfying.

Here, the source of the mitzva is pre-Sinai. The author cites a restatement of the mitzva that appears later in the Torah, and mentions that there are many mitzvot that are repeated in several verses in the Torah. He mentions that the rabbis consistently explain why the topic needs to be repeated. He will develop that theme as the book goes along, showing how the rabbis explain the repetition of certain mitzvot. Perhaps the author is responding to the problem we mentioned earlier of needing a post-Sinai source for each binding mitzva, but then again maybe not.

The root for this mitzva has three distinct parts:

1. A permanent bodily sign to set the Jewish people apart.

2. This sign is on the genitals, which cause procreation of the human species. (note the connection to mitzva #1.)

3. Just as people are required to perfect themselves physically, so should people try to perfect themselves spiritually.

Try to read the material carefully so that you pick up as much of this type of detail as you can. Here, think about what other roots he could have articulated and why he chose these.

The author’s third shoresh depends on the assumption that circumcision is a physical improvement. The author does not defend that notion.

That aside, this third shoresh introduces a fundamental notion our author uses throughout his endeavor at giving roots for each mitzva. The author sees mitzvot as carrying larger lessons about moral character. Some mitzvot serve as examples of the kind of characteristics we should try to have. It is our job to extend the example of the mitzva into the larger character trait it represents and incorporate that trait into our character. This is a controversial notion, and we will come back to a broader discussion of this in a later class.

The text of the blessings for circumcision are the same as we use, but the good wishes that follow are slightly different from the text we now use.

The author refers to the requirement to circumcise male slaves. If you look at the source verse, it is clear why the author mentions this. (If you need to, go back and look at the source verse.) Also, it is an example of the author’s attempt to be comprehensive in explaining the scope of each mitzva he discusses. We will get to the issue of eved k’naani, the non-Jewish slave, later in the work, when the rest of the mitzvot relevant to this topic come up.

As with the first mitzva, the author plunges into the topic of punishments without really explaining. Usually, there is no specific punishment for failure to do a positive mitzva. That is to say, primary Jewish sources do not describe any punishment, either punishment through human institutions or by God. (I am not sure that means the failure to keep a positive mitzva has no consequences.) There are two exceptions, positive mitzvot that are punished with karet: this mitzva, and the mitzva to bring the Korban Pesach, the Passover sacrifice, to the Temple to be slaughtered.

The author does not define karet. (His writing will improve, but he really does deal with punishments in little bits and pieces that he doesn’t always explain thoroughly.)

The word karet means “cut off,” being somehow cut off from the Jewish people. According to the encyclopedia Otzer Yisrael, various rabbinic authorities define karet differently, reflecting the wrongdoer being cut off physically, spiritually, or through his descendants. Perhaps karet means early death, or that the offender will be denied olam haba, or that his line of descendants will die out, or that he will die childless, etc. Of course, since this is a punishment inflicted by God, we really are not in a position to know exactly what it is.

Mitzva #3 – Not to eat the sinew of an animal’s thigh

Once more, a summary of the four basic sections of the essay:

This is a negative mitzva, not to eat specific sinews of the hind part of an animal.

Among the roots of this mitzva is the notion that, however bad conditions are for the Jews in exile, we should have hope that they will get better, just as God helped out father Jacob when he fought with the angel. This is the story in which the prohibition is stated.

Among the laws of this mitzva, for further study, are the details of exactly what part of the animal is forbidden, how to remove that part, to which animals it applies, who can be trusted to remove it. These topics can be found in the 7th chapter of gemara Chullin.

This mitzva applies in all times and places, to men and women. If one eats a whole sinew, or bits and pieces that add up to the size of an olive, one is punishable by flogging.

Notes:

Once more the author is concerned with the phrasing in the source verse that makes this practice sound more like a folk memory practice rather than a mitzva. The author asserts that this is, in fact, a commandment, but he doesn’t provide any reasoning for that assertion.

If you are using the Feldheim translation, take a look at footnote 6 to fill you in on more of the details of how this mitzva actually works.

The author’s discussion of the roots of this mitzva depends on the story in which this mitzvah appears in the Torah. Genesis chapter 32 tells the story of Jacob struggling with an angel. The midrash, which our author cites, says that the angel in the story is the “guardian angel of Esau.” This story takes place just as Jacob is about to meet Esau for the first time in many years, and as Jacob has made extensive preparations to defend himself against possible attack by Esau. However, later sources often associate Esau with Rome.

Our author relies on all of this in his essay. He talks about the suffering inflicted on the Jews by “Esau and the other nations,” and interprets this mitzvah as a reminder that, despite it all, the Jews will survive. The author is under no threat from Rome, an empire that had long since disappeared in his time. He may be just speaking in general about the Jews and exile. There was almost always some Jewish community under threat somewhere in medieval Europe. In his own community, Barcelona, the Jews were in a deteriorating situation. Barcelona had long been part of Christian Spain, but its close connections with Moslem Spain meant that its culture was more cosmopolitan than other parts of Christian Europe. However, as the Reconquista proceeded, and the Christian presence in the Iberian Peninsula increased, the pressure on the Jews in Barcelona increased too. Our author writes his book in about 1248. The Jews in Barcelona had been subjected to increasing missionizing activities during the preceding decade, and the Disputation of Barcelona would take place about fifteen years later. Perhaps the yearning tone of this passage is really very personal for our author.

Note that this section ends with a prayer for the coming of the Messiah. Keep an eye out to see how much attention our author gives to the concept of the messiah, how big a part of his understanding of Judaism this concept is. (You will have to look really carefully. If I remember right, there is one more mention of it.)

The punishment section here is obscure. The author makes several assumptions that he doesn’t explain. This is typical of how he handles this section.

The author says that one violates this mitzva by eating either one whole sinew, or an olive’s bulk of pieces of the sinew. This depends on the concept of shiur, a definition of minimal standard definitions of various concepts. Normally, when the concept involved is eating, the minimal amount to constitute eating is a k’zayit, “an olive’s bulk.” This is defined as not a large olive, not a small olive, but a medium size olive. The paleo-botanists have studied seeds of ancient olives, so they know exactly what this means, and a medium sized olive then was about the same size as a medium sized olive is now. It seems to me that this notion of k’zayit makes the minimal definition of eating equivalent to one bite.

However, eating a whole item has the status of eating, even if the volume is less than a k’zayit. Thus, eating a whole sinew violates this mitzva, even if the volume is less than a k’zayit. Think about eating one whole chocolate covered raisin, as compared to eating a similar volume of cake crumbs left in the bottom of the pan.

The author says that the punishment for violating this mitzvah is that the violator is flogged, lokeh. This is the first human inflicted punishment we have seen. It is a punishment inflicted by the beis din, Jewish court, under very limited circumstances. We will get to the details of how this works when we get to the relevant mitzva, in several years from now.

Nowadays, this mitzva is taken care of in the slaughterhouses. Since the kosher meat industry is integrated into the overall meat industry, the hind parts of kosher animals that have the forbidden sinew are simply cut off from the kosher carcass and passed into the non-kosher food chain.

Mazal tov. We have completed the mitzvot in Genesis.

Before we go on to Exodus, let’s take a few minutes to review the two short introductions. (We will come back to the longer introduction later.)

Introduction #1 (pages 2 – 5 in the Feldheim translation.)

This introduction is a little hard to read. It is written in a popular medieval style. Rather than just saying what he wants to say, the author quotes a few crucial words from a Biblical verse meant to convey the same meaning. It makes the text very hard to understand. Our author figures that out pretty quickly. By the time he is done with Genesis, he has largely stopped that stylistic practice.

After a humble and self-deprecating introduction, the author explains that he had three major sources for the material in his book: Rambam (Maimonides), Ramban (Nachmanides), and R. Isaac Alfasi (the Rif.)

The author makes reference to Rambam frequently. In particular, he relies on Rambam’s count of the mitzvot as it appears in Sefer haMitzvot. Ramban was a contemporary of our author, living in the same area. It was Ramban who argued in the Disputation of Barcelona, only fifteen years after our book was written. Our author mentions Ramban with some frequency as well, especially as the Ramban often disagrees with Rambam about what counts as a mitzvah and what doesn’t. Rabbi Isaac Alfasi is a less obvious influence on our author. He lived from 1013 to 1103, first in North Africa and then in Spain. He is a transitional figure between the Geonim and the Rishonim. (More on this topic when we get to our brief history of halachic literature.)

The author denies being well versed in “Babylonia and Jerusalem Talmud, Midrash Sifra and Sifre, and the Tosefta.” His denial is not convincing. (If you are not familiar with those terms, don’t worry. We will explain when we get to our brief history of halachic literature, which we will do within the next few weeks.)

Our author hopes to find his way into the company of these great rabbis by writing this book. More to the point, he hopes to convince the youth of his town to stop running riot in the streets, and instead to spend their Shabbatot and holidays inquiring about the mitzvot that appear in that week’s Torah portion.

Last, he addresses future copyists, asking that each subsequent copy include this introduction, and that the scribe correct any errors. This is a fairly typical piece of introduction that appeared in many medieval manuscripts. Since each hand copy of a manuscript would include both the mistakes of the author and the mistakes made by other copyists, the issue of whether the scribe should correct things that seem wrong is an important one. If the scribe corrects, he may change the author’s meaning. If he doesn’t, layers of errors by copyists will remain in the manuscript.

Introduction #2 (pages 52 – 55 in the Feldheim translation.)

This introduction focuses on one way in which our author characterizes mitzvot. He sees mitzvot as falling into various categories:

There are mitzvot that apply to men, and mitzvot that apply to women.

There are mitzvot that apply at all times, and mitzvot that apply only at certain times.

There are mitzvot that apply at all times, and mitzvot that apply only when triggered by a special circumstance.

There are mitzvot that apply to all Jews, mitzvot that apply to cohanim, mitzvot that apply to levi’im.

There are mitzvot that apply everywhere, mitzvot that apply only in Israel, mitzvot that apply only in the Temple.

There are positive mitzvot and negative mitzvot.

In his original manuscript, the author marked those mitzvot that apply in his time. He also marked those mitzvot that apply without any special trigger situation.

The enterprise of characterizing mitzvot in this way speaks to the author’s attempt to be comprehensive and systematic. It also makes Sefer haChinnuch an especially rewarding work for women to study. In most medieval works on halacha, women are an afterthought. In this work, however, women are just another category

This introduction ends with a list of the mitzvot that apply to every Jew at all times and in all places. As our author says about these mitzvot, “…their obligation is constant; it is not interrupted or removed from a person for even one moment in all his days.”

Although we are very early in our study, it is not inappropriate to think about whether we see any themes in the material we have seen so far. Think about how this passage fits with the shoresh hamitzva we saw in the first three mitzvot. Think about the picture we get of the ideal relationship between a person and God drawn by this list of six constant mitzvot.

Before tackling the first assignment, read How to Read a Mitzva.

Listen to the Audio class:
 

Mitzvah #1: Be fruitful and multiply

Our goal here is to find the four expected sections of this essay, as describes in the How to Read a Mitzva section, above, and to summarize each one.

1. The mitzva is to procreate. Its source is the blessing given by God to Adam and Eve in the first chapter of Genesis.
2. The root/reason for this mitzva is that God wants His world to be settled and inhabited, and it is the job of people to do that.
3. The details of the mitzva include at what age one should marry, how many children one needs to have in order to fulfill the mitzva. Discussion of these topics can be found in gemara Yevamot chapter 6 and gemara Brachot. (For the first section of Sefer haChinnuch, this section is a list of topics for further study and places in the halachic literature where you would find that discussion. Note that the references to mishna and gemara are by chapter; there was no standard pagination in the gemara when this book was written. If your text includes page references, they were added by the editor/translator.)
4. The mitzva applies to men, but not to women. It applies in all times and places, but only to men who have reached the requisite age. There is no precise punishment for not fulfilling this mitzva, but God is likely to take failure to fulfill this mitzva very seriously.

Notes:

This mitzva is very good at showing the structure the author will use for each of the following 612 essays. The content, however, is not very satisfying. More questions are left open than are answered. Don’t worry, the interest level of the essays will improve as the author hits his stride.

Meanwhile, note that nothing in this mitzva is specific to Jews. The blessing that is the source of this mitzva is addressed to all people, and our author’s interpretation applies equally to all people. Presumably, the mitzva only applies to Jews, although the author doesn’t actually say that.

There is a problem with using this verse as the source of this mitzva as it applies to Jews. In general, mitzvot only apply to the Jewish people if the mitzvot were given at Sinai or through Moses sometime after Sinai. We would normally expect our author to cite at least some parallel source from later in the Torah, a notion our author may be alluding to in mitzva #2.

Nor is there any discussion of why this mitzva does not apply to women.

The punishment section may feel a little vague. The author says there is no punishment imposed by a human court for failure to fulfill this mitzva, but he does not say why. We also need to be a little patient with the author on the topic of understanding the punishments. We will accumulate more information about how punishments work little by little, as we get little tidbits in each mitzva, until the whole topic develops some clarity.

The author chooses to do a very limited job on the content of this mitzva; he wants, I think, to focus on showing the reader how the mitzva/essays will be structured. Therefore, I don’t want to go too much further than he does by way of filling in the content. There is an interesting essay in David Feldman’s book Birth Control and Abortion in Jewish Law, New York University Press 1968. (I believe there is a more recent edition with a slightly different title.)

As to the “topics for further study,” Feldman explains that there are various versions of the tanaitic source that defines the minimum number of children: 1 child of either gender, 1 of each gender, 2 boys, 2 of each gender. The accepted opinion is that of Hillel, who says one child of each gender. The later rabbis extend the mitzva in various ways. The theme seems to be that the children themselves survive and have children of their own, so to make sure that happens, one should have as many children as possible.

It is clear from the gemara that this mitzva does not apply to women, but the reason is not at all clear. Note, however, that the structure of Jewish law related to marriage and divorce would make it difficult to figure out how this would work if women were obligated in this mitzva. Picture a married woman who is not having children. Although a man may have more than one wife, a woman may not marry more than one husband. And the woman cannot obtain a divorce without the cooperation of her husband. So if she was obligated to procreate but was not fertile within her current marriage, there isn’t much she could do on her own to fulfill the obligation.

In thirteenth century Barcelona, a Jewish father faced a problem: His son was spending too much time hanging out with his friends, and too little time learning Torah. To motivate his son, this father wrote Sefer haChinnuch. He wrote an essay about each mitzva, introducing the source verses, the main idea of the mitzva, a possible root/reason for the mitzva, some of the details, and a summary of to whom and under what circumstances the mitzva applies. The work systematically prepares students for serious study of halachic literature, introducing almost every area of halachic discourse, its genres and types of argument. Studying the author’s attempt to formulate a reason for each mitzva, we see an ethical master at work. As the author draws his son into the study of Torah, he draws us in as well.

This new series on the WebYeshiva Blog will examine the mitzvot as laid out in Sefer HaChinnuch. It is recommended that you obtain a copy of the sefer in order to follow along with these classes.

If you prefer to do your reading in Hebrew, there are several editions available, each for about $20 - $25. Try the web sites below, or the local Jewish bookstores.

If you prefer to do your reading in English, you will need the translation put out by Feldheim Publishers. It is a five-volume set, called the “Student Edition,” that sells for about $110. The set has been out of print for some years, but is currently being reprinted. You should be able to get it directly from Feldheim, through their web site, or from other vendors, starting in December, 2009.

A web site called EnglishTorahTapes.com has a series of files in which someone reads and translates Sefer haChinnuch. Look for a list of shiurim at the bottom of their home page, and click on Sefer HaChinnuch. You can also purchase a CD of the entire reading for $3.

The early Manuscripts of Sefer haChinnuch do not match the printed editions we have now. (The Feldheim translator’s introduction explains what manuscripts he worked from the how he chose between conflicting texts.) In the original, the mitzvot in each parsha were arranged with all the positive mitzvot grouped first, followed by all the negative mitzvot. In the printed editions, the mitzvot appear in the order of their source verses. You will occasionally find that the author refers back to a mitzva that has not yet appeared in the text we are reading.

The author originally marked each mitzva that remains in force in his day, and each mitzva that has no pre-condition. Those marks do not appear in the printed editions.

The titles for each mitzva in the Feldheim edition are provided by the translator. They are occasionally a little skew to the content of the mitzva essay.

Watch out for the footnotes in the Feldheim edition. The content is often helpful, but the footnotes don’t always end up on the same page as the text they are commenting on.

The text begins with three introductions. We will cover two of them early on, and cover the third one later. Between those are a complete list of the mitzvot, in order. This is a handy reference.