Chumash

And Moshe said to Aharon: “What did this people do to you that you brought this great sin upon them. (Shemot 32:21)

Rashi says that Moshe asked his older brother what kind of suffering the people inflicted before Aharon participated in the sin of the golden calf. This account depicts Aharon as attempting to resist communal pressure but giving in to intimidation tactics. Ramban rejects this idea since the idolatry of the golden calf should have motivated Aharon to resist even under pressure of death. After all, idolatry is one of the three sins for which halacha demands that a Jew become a martyr. How could Aharon not follow that fundamental principle?

Ramban suggests that Moshe inquires about an earlier interaction between Aharon and the people. Did Aharon bear some grudge against the people that he acted to their detriment and not to their benefit? Moshe’s question relates not to their pressuring him in this episode but to a possible previous situation that may have influenced the current predicament.

How can we respond to Ramban’s critique of Rashi? Maharal, in Gur Aryeh, notes that many commentators think the original plan of the golden calf was not to fashion a deity to be worshiped but to make a replacement intermediary who would fill Moshe’s shoes. Ramban himself explains Aharon’s thought processes in the same fashion. If so, the situation involved no idolatry and did not call for martyrdom.

An alternative defense of Rashi emerges from Ketubot 33b. According to that gemara, had the courageous martyrs Chanania, Mishael and Azarya been subject to torture, they would have relinquished their firm stance and worshiped a pagan idol. Arguably, this gemara indicates that a Jew must choose death over idolatry but need not withstand the ongoing torments of torture to maintain the same ideals. Tosafot reject such a reading. According to them, the case involving those three heroes was not truly idolatry; therefore, they would not have been expected to withstand torture. However, one opinion in Shita Mekubezet takes the gemara at face value. Since facing death is easier then enduring torture, halacha does not demand endless heroism in the latter scenario. From that perspective, Aharon was justified in giving in to certain threats.

Yet a simpler solution exists. Until now, our analysis has assumed that Aharon would obviously follow halachic dictates regarding martyrdom. We can move beyond that assumption. Aharon clearly makes a mistake in this story and that error might also include an inability to sand up to a mob. The Torah commands martyrdom in given circumstances but that does not make the decision of dedication easy. Indeed, Rambam writes that a person who failed to take the path of mandated martyrdom is not liable for punishment since the act was the product of duress (Hilchot Yesodei Hatorah 5: 4). In this great moment of truth, Aharon chose a path of lesser resistance.

And he that smites his father, or his mother, shall surely be put to death. And he that steals a man, and sells him, or if he be found in his hand, he shall surely be put to death. And he that curses his father or his mother shall surely be put to death. (Shmot 21:15-17)

Commentaries raise two fundamental questions regarding these verses. Why does the punishment for kidnapping appear between two punishments for violence towards parents? Would it not be more reasonable for all the parent related laws to appear without interruption? Ramban cites R. Sa’adya Gaon’s answer that a kidnapper causes a child to curse his parents since captivity prevents the child from knowing who his parents are.

Perhaps the point is deeper than the potential causal relationship between kidnapping and cursing parents. This biblical section revolves round the sanctity of the family and the need to not violate the sacred parent child relationship. Children breach that relationship if they hit or curse their parents. An outsider assaults the family unit if he forcefully removes one of its members. Thus, kidnapping belongs in the context of crimes against the notion of family.

Abravanel powerfully extends the point by explaining the verse as referring to a kidnapper who snatches a child, thereby acting with violence towards parents. Taking away a beloved child, claims Abravanel, can cause more pain than murder. These verses outline three consecutive crimes consisting of violence to parents.

The second question contrasts the punishments for striking and cursing parents. According to Chazal, both transgressions merit the death penalty but the child who curses his parents receives a more severe form of death penalty. Why should cursing receive harsher treatment than physical assault? Ramban provides two explanations that point to diverse themes in the philosophy of punishment.

Cursing may occur more frequently than striking; therefore, it requires a stronger deterrent. Alternatively, cursing also includes desecrating the name of God invoked in the oath so it actually reflects the more serious offense. The two approaches highlight the potential presence of deterrent and retributive themes in halachic punishments. Severity of punishment reflects either the need to deter more ubiquitous crimes or the terrible nature of the act in question.

You shall not deliver to his master a slave that escaped from his master to you. He shall dwell with you, in your midst, in the place which he shall choose within one of your gates, where it is best for him; you shall not wrong him. (Devarim 23:16-17)

Which kinds of slave and what context does this commandment refer to? One suggestion in Gittin (45a) explains that the verse speaks of a Canaanite slave belonging to a Jew who escapes from the diaspora to the land of Israel. We cannot return such a slave since that move exiles him from the Holy Land and lessens the scope and level of his performance of mitzvot. The spiritual potential of Israel enables this slave to achieve freedom.

Rashi, citing the Targum, mentions the possibility that this escaped slave belongs to a non- Jewish master. According to Mizrachi, Rashi refers to a Jewish slave who escapes his gentile owner. The motivation for providing asylum in this case is quite clear; we want to enable a Jew to achieve freedom. Yet Rashi never explicitly identifies the nationality of the slave; conceivably, the verse addresses a gentile slave running from his gentile master. If so, what motivates this particular mitzva?

Perhaps the larger biblical context helps us decipher this verse. The previous verses discuss laws of warfare. Slaves may take the opportunity offered by military conflict to escape their unhappy predicament and find refuge in the opposing camp. When a slave does so, we are enjoined not to return him to the other side. Ramban explains two possible rationales for the commandment. The slave’s action also represents a movement from paganism to monotheism and we cannot simply return a human being to a lesser religious and moral environment. From a more pragmatic perspective, this slave may have discovered some inner workings of the Jewish camp and we prefer that this knowledge not make its way over to the enemy.

The combination of moral and pragmatic concerns in relation to non - Jews from the enemy camp appears in another Ramban. In his enumeration of positive commandments left out of Rambam’s Sefer haMitzvot, Ramban lists a positive commandment to leave an opening for escape when besieging a city (mitzva 5). Why would we lessen the effectiveness of our siege by providing an escape route? Even in wartime, we show some compassion for our enemies and provide those wanting no part of the battle a chance to escape. Additionally, this tactic provides pragmatic benefits in that it may diminish the enemy force ready to contest our army.

When dealing with a foreigner, and especially when confronting a hostile other, we must keep in mind both strategic and ethical evaluations. We cannot avoid pragmatic questions regarding what will bring military success. At the same time, we cannot eliminate moral reasoning and compassion for human beings from the equation. Ramban reminds us to incorporate both modes of thinking.

Many question the placement of the commandment to honor parents in the first half of the asseret hadibrot. Assuming the dibrot divide evenly between commandments between man and God and interpersonal mitzvot, why does honoring parents appear in the first category? While R. Yosef Bechor Shor does not explicitly pose this question, his comments prove relevant (see his commentary on Shemot 20:11). He explains the prohibition against worshiping other gods might erroneously lead to the conclusion that honoring parents is theologically problematic; after all, it means honoring beings other than God. The Torah emphasizes that God directs us to honor parents and does not view this as a diminution of divine honor. Quite the contrary! The ability to show gratitude to parents for giving birth and ongoing care means a parallel ability to express thanks to God for all He does for us. Conversely, difficulty with gratitude does not bode well for a successful relationship with the Holy One, blessed be He.

Ramban also connects honoring parents with honoring God. Hashem and parents serve as partners in the creation of a child. This idea enables Ramban to solve a interpretive conundrum. The second version of the dibrot in sefer Devarim adds the phrase “as I commanded you” (Devarim 5:15) in the context of the mitzva to honor parents. When did God command the Jewish people regarding kibbud av va’em prior to the revelation at Sinai? Rashi explains that Hashem gave them the mitzva of honoring parents at Marah before they came to Sinai. Alternatively, if we understand the second version of the dibrot as Moshe’s later recapitulation and elaboration of the word of God, the question dissipates. Standing at the entranceway to the land of Israel, Moshe refers back to the earlier episode at Sinai in which God gave the Ten Commandments (see Ibn Ezra on Shemot 20).

Rashi and Ibn Ezra state very reasonable solutions; Ramban offers an innovative different option (commentary on Shemot 20:11). He says that sefer Devarim’s mention of an earlier command actually refers to the command to honor God. According to this reading, Hashem directs us to honor our parents just as He commanded us to honor Himself. Presumably, Ramban does not intend an exact equation between our reverence for God and our honor for parents; rather, enough rough commonality exists to enable some type of comparison. Ramban raises interesting aspects of this parallel. Just as we should worship God out of idealistic motivation and not for personal gain, we should honor parents for noble reasons and not in hopes of inheriting their money.

The strong connection between honoring parents and honoring God may explain the placement of the fifth of the Ten Commandments. Those capable of expressing gratitude and of honoring others without an eye towards profit will fulfill both mitzvot in a far more profound manner.

And he cried unto God and God showed him a tree, and he cast it into the waters, and the waters were made sweet. There He made for them a statute and an ordinance, and there He tested them. (Shemot 15:25)

The Jewish people receive some form of law at Marah prior to the grand revelation at Sinai but the biblical account does not relate what that law includes. The gemara (Sanhedrin 56b) suggests that the Jews received the commandments of dinim (monetary law), Shabbat, and honoring parents. Support for including the last two comes from the account of asseret hadibrot in Devarim 5 where the Torah says “as I commanded you” in reference to Shabbat and kibbud av va’em. From the reference to a previous command, the gemara infers that these two mitzvot were given at Marah during the episode recounted in Shemot 15.

Perhaps another motivation fueling the gemara was an assumption that this early list of commandments should consist of mitzvot fundamental to religious life. Both Shabbat and honoring parents certainly qualify; therefore, it seems reasonable that they were the commandments at Marah.

Rashi follows the gemara in including both Shabbat and dinim; he differs by including the red heifer as the third mitzva. R. Baruch Epstein (Torah Temima) claims that this reflects a copyist error rather than the authentic view of Rashi. Perhaps Rashi wrote the acronym for honoring parents (kaf and aleph), a scribe mistakenly converted the kaf into a similar looking peh, and the next scribe spelled it out as para aduma. R. Epstein’s speculation, though clever, requires more evidence than he provides. In fact, we can explain why Rashi introduces the red heifer as a possibility. The verse uses the term “chok” and the red heifer represents the quintessential chok. Furthermore, introducing a commandment whose reason is difficult to comprehend helps convey that halachic observance also involves adhering to mitzvot even when a person does not understand the reason behind them. Hashem wanted the people to hear this important message at an early stage.

Ramban wonders why, according to Rashi, the Torah does not explicitly mention these commandments just as it enumerates specific mitzvot in Shemot 12. He provides an alternative explanation that the “statues and ordinances” refer to issues of basic human decency such as loving neighbors, listening to the counsel of the elderly, respecting privacy, relating to outsiders in a peaceful manner, and acting with restraint even in wartime. This reflects the basic needs of the nascent Jewish nation. According to Ramban, we cannot embark on our grand mission of religious life without a fundamental grounding in human decency. This parallels Ramban’s reading of the Noahide law of dinim. The Noahide court system does not merely enforce the other six Noahide laws; rather, it demands a more widespread attempt to create an equitable monetary and social system. For Ramban, all religious communal life begins with social institutions which promote justice and benevolence.

The prohibition against lending money with interest differs in important ways from other monetary transgressions such as theft or damaging another’s property. Chazal derive from Devarim 23:20 that the borrower also violates a biblical principle. We usually do not fault the victim of a crime for his participation. This question motivates R. Hirsch to provide a novel understanding of the prohibition against lending with interest. Would it constitute an interpersonal crime, then responsibility would fall totally on the lender. Interest, contends R. Hirsch, actually belongs in the category of sins between man and God. An overly strong sense of ownership leads a Jew to refuse to lend money to a brother in need without some accompanying profit. A wealthy fellow who truly appreciated God’s ultimate ownership would act differently. According to R. Hirsch, since the crime is not about victimhood, both lender and borrower share in the violation.

Ramban (commentary on Devarim 23:20) offer an alternative possibility. First he notes the discrepancy between interest and other interpersonal prohibitions. I can give you permission to break my vase but I cannot allow you to lend me money with interest. Ramban suggests that the frequency of this transgression motivated the Torah to create a prohibition for the borrower as well. The Torah does not normally place responsibility on the person losing out; here, it needed a host of potential deterrents in order to stop such a common crime.

Devarim 23:21 explicitly says that we can lend with interest to a nochri, a gentile, but not to a fellow Jew. How should we understand this apparent discrimination? Here too, this law contrasts with theft, something prohibited with regard to both Jews and gentiles. Ramban explains that interest does not constitute a moral problem in the way that theft does. After all, both parties agree to the deal. Other rishonim add that having money for a period of time is truly worth money so we can view interest as just compensation. Since interest does not inherently involve immorality, we can engage in usury with gentiles. Regarding Jews in financial need, the Torah commands us to perform a special act of solidarity and brotherhood and lend without interest.

Ramban draws an analogy to the sabbatical year canceling debts owed to fellow Jews. It is surely not a moral problem that we collect debts from gentiles during the sabbatical year since we are owed the money. The Torah creates a special dispensation exclusively for fellow Jews and cancels their debts. Further support for this idea comes from the Torah promising a special blessing to those who cancel the debts (Devarim 15:4) and to those who lend money without interest (Devarim 23:21). We do not receive additional blessings for avoiding theft; we do receive such blessings for going beyond basic moral demands.

An important ethical model emerges from this analysis. We reject immoral behavior towards any human being and should not even consider stealing from or harming a non –Jewish person. At the same time, it is legitimate to feel greater responsibility towards our brethren. May we successfully integrate universalistic and particularistic ethical concerns.

Our last post introduced Ramban’s idea that each of the Chumashim revolves around a single theme, a methodological assumption impacting on our understanding of the placement of particular mitzvot. In his introduction to sefer Devarim, Ramban states that the last of the Chumashim contains a summary of the commandants the Jews need to know when entering the land. He notes that Devarim includes little about the sacrificial order or the priesthood and explains that the great alacrity and commitment of the priests means that they did not need a review; they remembered all the details from sefer Vayikra. The rest of the people, however, benefited from hearing their obligations again.

Devarim also introduces certain mitzvot that do not appear earlier in Torah. Laws of levirate marriage, divorce, slander, and the punishment for false witnesses appear only in the last of the five Chumashim. Ramban writes that the Jewish people received these mitzvot at Sinai but they were not recorded in written from until later. Perhaps these mitzvot were not practiced until they entered the land. Alternatively, these commandments consist of occasional obligations rather than permanent duties; therefore, the Torah waits until a later book to record them.

Ramban‘s two explanations for those mitzvot introduced in Devarim raises a number of questions. Birkat hamazon appears for the first time in Devarim (8:10) even though it is a constant demand and not an occasional one. We can defend Ramban by noting that birkat hamazon emphasizes the theme of inheriting the land. The commanding verse itself says that we are to bless God “on the good land that He gave you” and we include this theme in the second blessing of birkat hamazon. Any obligation with strong connection to the land of Israel belongs in a book situated immediately before the Jewish people enter the Holy Land.

Bamidbar brings a different set of questions. In his introduction to Bamidbar, Ramban notes that most of the commandments in that book relate to temporary obligations of the Jews in the desert. This works well for the census and for mitzvot regarding traveling and camping. However, other types of commandments appear as well. For example, the Torah explicitly introduces the mitzva of libation offerings with the words” when you come to the land” (Bamidbar 15:1). Since this is a permanent mitzva that begins in Israel, it should appear in Devarim, not Bamidbar. Ramban explains that this commandment follows immediately after the sin of the spies. After hearing that they would not enter the land for forty years, the Jewish began to despair, assuming that they will never make it to the Promised Land. God counters that despair by stating a mitzva which assumes their eventual success.

Thus, thinking about each sefer’s goal and the individual commandments within it opens up a fruitful avenue for analysis. When studying Bamidbar and Devarim, we should ask about the permanent commandments in the former and about the obligations not related to the land first introduced in the later.

What is the significance of the division of Chumash into five books? Since we experience the Torah as distinct parshiyot read in shul each Shabbat, we tend not to think much about these larger divisions. However, the Chumash divisions date back to the giving of the Torah whereas the parsha breaks simply reflect a later attempt to divide up Chumash in such a way that we can complete it annually. If so, it behooves us to think more seriously about the five fold division.

Commentaries who focus on verse by verse explanation may sometimes not ask questions about larger units. Ramban, on the other hand, does raise such questions, beginning each Chumash with an introduction surveying the entire book. These introductions do far more than survey; they locate a unified theme running through each individual sefer. Sefer Shemot has a distinct message as does Sefer Vayikra. As we shall see, assuming a unified theme in each book influences Ramban’s understanding of particular narrative and legal sections within these books

Ramban views Breishit as the book of creation. Of course, the actual creation of the world constitutes a small part of the sefer, but the lives of our patriarchs were also a kind of creative force for their descendents. Perhaps this played a role in Ramban’s doctrine of ma’aseh avot siman le’banim. If our patriarchs’ actions set in motion later Jewish history, it becomes easier to see them as part of the basic structuring of our universe.

Sefer Shmot might be subtitled: “From Exile to Redemption”. Although the Jews leave Egypt before the book is half over, the authentic redemption is complete only after they receive the Torah and construct a mishkan. Once the divine presence dwells among them and they return to the stature of their forefathers, we can speak of redemption. The first and last verses of Sefer Shmot powerfully support Ramban’s reading. Shmot starts with Yaakov’s family descending to Egypt; it concludes with the divine presence filling the tabernacle. These two verses convey the theme of from exile to redemption.

Arguably, this assumption also impacts on Ramban’s understanding of the mishkan. He views the ark as the essential item in the mishkan due to its housing of the luchot. Placement of the tablets reflects the attempt to take the revelation at Sinai and make it, to some degree, part of the ongoing Jewish experience in the mishkan (see the first Ramban on Truma). This interpretive assumption draws a strong connection between the two halves of Sefer Shmot, thereby encouraging a unified view of the sefer.

Sefer Vayikra provides examples of the same phenomenon. Ramban contends that the entire book is about the priests and the sacrificial order. This theme works quite well for the first half of the sefer but less well for the remainder. Ramban explains that Vayikra includes other mitzvot due to some connection they bear with the sacrificial order. For example, the festivals are included (chapter 23) because we bring special sacrifices on those holy days. Here, Ramban stands on shakier ground. Chapter 23 does discuss the festivals but it does not emphasize the sacrificial component of these festivals. That actually appears in Sefer Bamidbar. Moreover, much of Parhsat Kedoshim lacks a korban connection. Regarding this sefer, we might prefer Abravanel’s approach. Vayikra deals with sanctity – the first half with the sanctity of the priests and the second half with the sanctity of Am Yisrael.

In any case, we see the impact that this broader thematic question has on our understanding of Torah.

Do not turn to those that communicate with the dead or seek after wizards to be defiled by them, I am the Lord your God. Rise before an elder and honor the face of a zaken, and you will fear your God, I am the Lord. (Vayikra 19:31-32)

I purposely did not translate the word “zaken” to preserve an ambiguity: what type of elder must we honor? Rashi explains that the verse refers to scholars irrespective of their age. The Torah commands us to respect the knowledgeable, not those advanced in years that are ignorant. Ramban disagrees since the gemara’s conclusion supports the view that we must respect all elders (Kiddushin 33a). The verse includes two terms “seivah” and “zaken” because the former refers to age and the latter to wisdom.

Ramban cites the gemara but does not delve into the inner logic of the position. Perhaps we honor the elderly out of sympathy for their declining health and mental capacities. Alternatively, we revere them for the wisdom acquired in the school of life (see Sefer haChinuch 257). Wisdom cannot be measured solely in terms of book knowledge. An elderly person may not have completed many tractates or read many books but they have seen different aspects of the human condition over the years and their stories instruct us. In this sense, every elderly person is a sage.

Why does the Torah add the admonition: “and you will fear your God?” The Torah could have employed this phrase regarding any mitzva, yet it chose a select few. Abravanel explains that, unfortunately, the youth often mock the elderly, viewing them as out of touch with current concerns and with little to contribute. The Torah counters this with a forceful reminder to fear God. In truth, the youth err since they gain much from conversations with the elderly.

Abravanel and R. Hirsch also find meaning in the juxtaposition with a prohibition against communicating with the deceased. Humanity naturally searches for insight and wisdom, sometimes trying to receive these precious commodities from those already in another world. Therefore, the Torah follows this negative commandment with a different mitzva that suggests a far better source of good judgment. As R. Hirsch formulates the point, we need not helplessly turn to the fates for aid. Human wisdom accumulated in the study of Torah and in the school of life guides us.

And Yosef saw his brothers and recognized them and made himself foreign to them and spoke harshly and said: “from where have you come?” and they said: “from the land of Canaan to buy food.” And Yosef recognized his brothers but they did not recognize him. (Bereishit 42: 7-8)

Why does the Torah repeat Yosef’s ability to identify his brothers? Repetition may indicate two layers of recognition. Ibn Ezra explains that the first layer refers to a general understanding that a group of his brothers descended to Egypt. At a later point, Yosef takes note of each sibling on an individual basis. For Ramban, the second stage refers to a more definitive identification. At first, Yosef suspected that his brothers stood before him; then, their claim of Canaanite origin certified his supposition.

Rashi cites an intriguing midrashic comment. Perhaps the extra verse refers not to physical identification but to a moral posture. The brothers did not see Yosef as a brother; they considered killing him and ultimately sold him into slavery. Yosef, on the other hand, remembered brotherly responsibility. Even as he accused them of spying, he never truly intended to harm his brothers.

Why does the recognition occur only in one direction? Rashi explains that the brothers already had beards at the time when they sold Yosef so they basically looked the same as he remembered. Yosef was yet without a beard when the brothers last saw him; therefore, they failed to identify their sibling. Ramban questions this interpretation since Yissachar and Zevulun were not much older than Yosef and Yosef should have had the same difficulty recognizing them. He explains that having identified the older brethren, Yosef could easily figure out who the younger brothers were based on their family association.

Ramban adds another interpretation of psychological acuteness. Our ability to identify things often depends upon our expectations. When some possibility seems extremely foreign to us, we may reinterpret evidence indicating the truth of that possibility. Yosef knew about the famine and expected his starving family to search for food in Egypt. His brothers had no reason to think that the brother they sold into slavery had risen to second in command of the era’s most powerful nation. Therefore, all resemblance to Yosef seemed a coincidence to them.

Perhaps we can ad a deeper layer as well. The brothers had always failed to identify Yosef. The younger child they viewed as a nuisance receiving unjustified favoritism had some crucial talents that they could not admit to. Developing circumstances eventually brought them to confront the truth about their talented sibling.