Rabbi Yishmael says: There are thirteen rules [which one must follow] when being Doreish the words of the Torah:
13) Two pasukim that contradict either other, until a third pasuk comes along to choose between [the two pasukim.]
This final rule to the Shlosh Esrei Midos is rather puzzling. The rule seems to imply that when we find pasukim that argue with each other, we should look for a third pasuk to explain which of the first two verses is correct and which is incorrect. But could this Drasha be implying that a pasuk in the Torah is incorrect or not accurate? Of course not! But if both pasukim are true, then what does the third pasuk accomplish? Perhaps it comes to resolve how there isn’t any contradiction between those first two pasukim. But if this is the only purpose the third pasuk serves, why do we consider it a Drasha? Isn’t it nothing more than a logical resolution?
In the first pasuk of this week’s parasha, we are told “VaYidabeir Eilav Hashem MeiOhel Mo’eid Leimor,” Hashem spoke to Moshe from the Ohel Mo’eid. However, this fact isn’t so simple, since the pasuk in Parashat Terumah says Hashem spoke to Moshe from on top of the Kapores, which is on the Aron. Which pasuk is correct, the Sifri asks. The answer comes from a Kasuv Shlishi, a pasuk in Parashat Naso that states, “when Moshe came to the Ohel Mo’eid to speak to [Hashem], he heard the voice from atop the Kapores…” Therefore, we see that the voice came from the Kapores and not the Ohel. What then can we say about the pasuk in this week’s parasha and its claim that Hashem’s voice came from the Ohel?
Perhaps the real question we should ask is why do we need a Drasha in the first place. The Kapores is inside of the Ohel Mo’eid, so if one pasuk says that Hashem spoke from the Kapores, then it implies that He spoke from inside the Ohel. Isn’t that a rational explanation of the pasuk in this week’s parasha? In fact, this seems to be exactly what the pasuk in Naso describes. The pasuk begins by explaining that Moshe heard Hashem’s voice come from the Kapores after he entered the Ohel, so before he entered, the voice must have sounded like it was coming from the Ohel. Why then do we consider this a Kasuv Shilshi that breaks up the contradiction; if anything it resolves the contradiction and does so without anything more than common sense?!
Maybe there’s something more to this Drasha that we are overlooking. If we look closely at the words in Rabbi Yishael’s statement, we notice there is a missing verb. Had the statement said, “two pasukim are contradictory until…” the grammar would make sense; but instead, the words read “two pasukim that are contradictory until...” This implies that the nature of these contradictory verses changes after we find a Kasuv Shlishi. But what could change upon the discovery of the Kasuv Shlishi?
Perhaps the point of the Drasha is to teach us that the Kasuv Shlishi is what chooses between the two contradictory pasukim, and not us. Chazal were perfectly capable of resolving contradictory verses in the Torah, but if they found an extra pasuk like the one in Naso, then they would be forced to use it to resolve the argument. And what argument does the pasuk resolve? As we pointed out earlier, the two pasukim aren’t even necessarily contradictory!
However, two pasukim do say Hashem spoke from the Kapores and only one pasuk says Hashem spoke from the Ohel, and the pasukim themselves provide no resolution. Therefore, we are forced to accept not just that the voice came from the Kapores but also that it did not come from the Ohel, nor can we presume that the pasuk in VaYikra comes to suggest that Moshe heard the voice while he was outside the Ohel. In fact, this is what Rashi teaches us on the very words Mei’Ohel Mo’eid:
“Mei’Ohel Mo’eid. This teaches us that the voice was cut off and did not leave the Ohel. One might think this was smply because Hashem’s voice was soft, therefore the pasuk in Naso states Kol. This is the powerful Kol that we speak of in Psalms 29.”
Of course, it would make perfect sense for Rashi to explain “Mei’Ohel Mo’eid” to mean that the voice did leave the Ohel; after all, the pasuk doesn’t say LiOhel. This would also help Rashi explain the voice to be loud and powerful. But because of the Kasuv Shlishi, he is forced to explain it this way. We now see how a Kasuv Shlishi is a Drasha and not just a reflection of common sense. It doesn’t only determine for us what pasuk is correct and what must be expounded upon, it even tells us when we may not simply resolve two pasukim by logic.
Alternatively, the Kasuv Shlishi can force us to resolve through logic. For instance, the pasuk in Naso clearly establishes that Moshe entered the Ohel Mo’eid to speak with Hashem, but the pasuk in parashat Fidukei says “and Moshe did not enter into the Mishkan.” That pasuk, however, continues with an explanation “because the cloud rested on [the Ohel].” Therefore, Chazal establish this explanation as a Kasuv Shlishi that forces us to explain the two pasukim by the logic expressed in the pasuk. The logical resolution forces Chazal to accept that both pasukim are true, that neither is open for Drasha (as opposed to Rashi’s explanation of Mei’Ohel Mo’eid). And if both pasukim are true, then we must recognize that one possible resolution is that one pasuk (the one in Fikudei) held true on the day of Chanukas HaMishkan, and the other pasuk (the one in Naso, which is stated after the twelve days of Korbanos from the Nissi’im) held true at other times. But the Kasuv Shlishi teaches us that the deciding factor was not HaKamas HaMishkan or Chanukas HaMishkan, but rather the presence of Hashem’s Anan.
Ultimately, we come to see that even the most obvious Drashos are not as obvious as one may expect them to be. Rabbi Yishmael’s rules really do provide strict regulations over our interpretations of Torah’s words. Good Shabbos.
18.3.05
11.3.05
Parashat Fikudei
“And Betzaleil Ben Uri… did all that Hashem commanded to Moshe.”
It does not write here “that which Moshe commanded him,” but rather “that which Hashem commanded Moshe,” [implying] even things that his teacher Moshe did not instruct. [Betzaleil] determined that which was said to Moshe on Sinai. Moshe told him to first build the Keilim of the Mishkan and then build the building, and Betzaleil replied “But it is customary in this world to first construct the building and then place the Keilim inside of it? Shouldn’t I build the Mishkan first?” [Moshe] said to him, “Such did I hear from Hashem; you obviously must be standing in G-d’s shadow [to have determined this ruling all on your own]!” And so [Betzaleil] made the Mishkan first and then he made the Keilim.
Rashi, Pekudei 38:22
Rashi here describes Betzaleil’s claim to fame, the accomplishment for which he was named. As the leader of the Mishkan’s construction, Betzaleil was the genius who could build the most complex structures from scratch. He had the mental clarity to explain anything to anyone, to make the most difficult instructions look simple. Here, he corrects his teacher Moshe, and is Mechavein to the words of Hakadosh Baruch Hu all on his own.
But what was so special about Betzaleil’s correction in the first place? He receives a command from his teacher and he appeals based on the customs of the world! It would be one thing if Moshe would respond “Oops, my mistake,” but what makes Betzaleil’s simple correction so incredible that Moshe responds “Shema BiTzeil Keil Hayeesa.” Furthermore, didn’t it ever occur to Betzaleil that perhaps the construction the Mishkan might transcend the customs of the world? Why would he ever think Moshe reversed the instructions?
Lastly, we must wonder what Moshe meant when he replied “Such did I hear from Hashem.” If Moshe heard Betzaleil’s instructions from Hashem, why wouldn’t he explain it correctly to Betzaleil. One could speculate perhaps Moshe forgot what he was instructed, as the Gur Aryeh does. One could also speculate that Moshe meant, “Hashem instructed me to build the Keilim first, but I like your way more,” as the Mizrachi does. But both ways seem lacking. The Levush HaOrah emphatically rejects both the Mizrachi’s and the Gur Aryeh’s interpretations of Rashi here. “How could it be that Moshe forgot that which Hashem taught him,” the Levush HaOrah writes. “Chas Vishalom one would ever suggest that of even the smallest Navi, Kal ViChomer Moshe Rabbeinu! And would Moshe ever accept his students reasoning above the command of a King? Of course not!” Therefore, the Levush HaOrah offers an alternative solution.
The biggest problem with the Mizrachi’s and Gur Aryeh’s explanations is that if we look in Parashat VaYakheil, we do find Moshe instructing the construction in the proper order, Es Mishkan Es Ahalo ViEs Michseihu. It is only in Parashat Terumah where Moshe mentions the Aron and the Shulchan and the Menorah etc. and then the pillars and covers. Therefore, when Rashi says Moshe didn’t instruct Betzaleil, what he really means is that Moshe didn’t instruct Betzaleil clearly or explicitly. He delivered instructions to the nation twice, changed the order between the two times, and left it to Betzaleil to figure out which of his instructions correctly detailed the process’s proper order and which instruction did not. Betzaleil therefore approached Moshe with the obvious question, which order is the correct order. Betzaleil also added in his question, “Perhaps I should build the Oheil first and the Keilim second because that is the standard order we follow in this world. Is my guess correct?” And Moshe responded “Such did I hear from Hashem, your guess is 100% correct.”
What the Levush HaOrah fails to explain, however, is why Betzaleil’s question should warrant such praise from his rebbe. Especially now that we see Betzaleil had a 50/50 chance of guessing correctly, what was so impressive about his input? He didn’t even win an argument over his rebbe anymore; he just applied common sense.
Apparantly, there must be something more than common sense to Betzaleil’s inference. But if Betzaleil didn’t just apply common sense, how did he come to the correct solution? How could Betzaleil tell which of Moshe’s instructions was in the proper order and which one served an alternate purpose? Let’s take a look at Betzaleil two options. Either the Aron was to be built first and the Oheil was listed first in VaYakheil for a separate reason, or the Oheil was to be built first and the Aron was listed first in Terumah for a separate reason. This “separate reason,” one would speculate, should be the reason why the Mishkan is being built in the first place, which is “ViShachanti BiSocham,” to establish a closer relationship with Hashem even after the distancing caused by the Cheit HaEigel. Therefore, Betzaleil had to discern which of these objects, the Oheil or the Aron, would facilitate closeness between the Bnei Yisrael and Hashem.
The correct choice is not so obvious. In fact, we need a Kasuv Shlishi, in Parashat Naso (7:89), to break up a contradiction between two pasukim in the Torah, one pasuk in Terumah (25:22) that implies that the voice came from above the Kapores upon the Aron, and a different pasuk in VaYikra (1:1) that implies that the voice came from the Ohiel. Betzaleil’s reasoning now becomes a real accomplishment, for not even Chazal could figure out from where the Shechina’s voice eminated without a drasha in the Torah. What then was Betzaleil’s incredible chidush?
The Cheit HaEigel was a result of the Bnei Yisrael’s feelings of distance from HaKadosh Baruch Hu; it refelcted their need for a physical intermediary. The Mishkan served as a solution to the Eigel because it served as a way the nation could physically feel Hashem’s presence within their midst. Therefore, before Hashem could communicate to the nation, His presence would have to be recognizable; only then would the Shechina reside in the camp’s midst. Between the Aron and the Oheil, the item that best facilitated this feeling of presence was the Oheil.
Betzaleil reasoned, “Common sense dictates that before one can recognize the physical presence of Hashem in this world, He should have a physical resting spot. The way of the world is that one first defines a space, and then fills it; one must always define a set environment before one can begin to discuss the notion of ‘presence.’ Presence can only be defined within a limited window of space and time, and only the Oheil allows for Hashem to have presence, not vice versa.”
Were the purpose of Binyan HaMishkan been for Hashem to simply speak to us, then the Aron would be considered the first item in the order of the construction because the Aron would be the Kli which would enable Hashem to speak from the Oheil. Without an Aron, there would be no place for the Shchina to dwell, and then the Oheil wouldn’t serve any purpose without an inhabitant. But Betzaeil wisely recognized there was more to the Mishkan than its purpose as a meeting place; it was a designated and defined meeting place.
This was the great Chidush of Betzaleil Ben Uri. And when Moshe heard how he reasoned the purpose for the Mishkan and understood exactly why it was being built, Moshe understood just how special Betzaleil was. He didn’t just make complex instructions sound simple, he could analyze an object, break down its components, and conclude what purpose it served from his analysis of those individual components. Betzaleil understood the interworkings of the not just the Keilim of the Mishkan, but of even their individual components, the gold silver copper etc. Perhaps this is what Rashi means to teach us when he introduces Fikudei as “the parasha that lists each metal as a component, pieces it together into Keilim and then constructs an interwoven Avodas HaYom out of those Keilim.”
While the parasha may seem like a total repeat of everything we described in Terumah, Titzaveh, Ki Tisa, and VaYakheil, Fikudei does much more. It is the parasha that overviews the entire construction process, from the little half bits of silver until the setting of whole loaves of bread. It is the parasha that recognizes the incredible detail accounted for within every grand process, that even a process as grand as Binyan HaMishkan is made up of nothing more than the design of this physical realm.
It does not write here “that which Moshe commanded him,” but rather “that which Hashem commanded Moshe,” [implying] even things that his teacher Moshe did not instruct. [Betzaleil] determined that which was said to Moshe on Sinai. Moshe told him to first build the Keilim of the Mishkan and then build the building, and Betzaleil replied “But it is customary in this world to first construct the building and then place the Keilim inside of it? Shouldn’t I build the Mishkan first?” [Moshe] said to him, “Such did I hear from Hashem; you obviously must be standing in G-d’s shadow [to have determined this ruling all on your own]!” And so [Betzaleil] made the Mishkan first and then he made the Keilim.
Rashi, Pekudei 38:22
Rashi here describes Betzaleil’s claim to fame, the accomplishment for which he was named. As the leader of the Mishkan’s construction, Betzaleil was the genius who could build the most complex structures from scratch. He had the mental clarity to explain anything to anyone, to make the most difficult instructions look simple. Here, he corrects his teacher Moshe, and is Mechavein to the words of Hakadosh Baruch Hu all on his own.
But what was so special about Betzaleil’s correction in the first place? He receives a command from his teacher and he appeals based on the customs of the world! It would be one thing if Moshe would respond “Oops, my mistake,” but what makes Betzaleil’s simple correction so incredible that Moshe responds “Shema BiTzeil Keil Hayeesa.” Furthermore, didn’t it ever occur to Betzaleil that perhaps the construction the Mishkan might transcend the customs of the world? Why would he ever think Moshe reversed the instructions?
Lastly, we must wonder what Moshe meant when he replied “Such did I hear from Hashem.” If Moshe heard Betzaleil’s instructions from Hashem, why wouldn’t he explain it correctly to Betzaleil. One could speculate perhaps Moshe forgot what he was instructed, as the Gur Aryeh does. One could also speculate that Moshe meant, “Hashem instructed me to build the Keilim first, but I like your way more,” as the Mizrachi does. But both ways seem lacking. The Levush HaOrah emphatically rejects both the Mizrachi’s and the Gur Aryeh’s interpretations of Rashi here. “How could it be that Moshe forgot that which Hashem taught him,” the Levush HaOrah writes. “Chas Vishalom one would ever suggest that of even the smallest Navi, Kal ViChomer Moshe Rabbeinu! And would Moshe ever accept his students reasoning above the command of a King? Of course not!” Therefore, the Levush HaOrah offers an alternative solution.
The biggest problem with the Mizrachi’s and Gur Aryeh’s explanations is that if we look in Parashat VaYakheil, we do find Moshe instructing the construction in the proper order, Es Mishkan Es Ahalo ViEs Michseihu. It is only in Parashat Terumah where Moshe mentions the Aron and the Shulchan and the Menorah etc. and then the pillars and covers. Therefore, when Rashi says Moshe didn’t instruct Betzaleil, what he really means is that Moshe didn’t instruct Betzaleil clearly or explicitly. He delivered instructions to the nation twice, changed the order between the two times, and left it to Betzaleil to figure out which of his instructions correctly detailed the process’s proper order and which instruction did not. Betzaleil therefore approached Moshe with the obvious question, which order is the correct order. Betzaleil also added in his question, “Perhaps I should build the Oheil first and the Keilim second because that is the standard order we follow in this world. Is my guess correct?” And Moshe responded “Such did I hear from Hashem, your guess is 100% correct.”
What the Levush HaOrah fails to explain, however, is why Betzaleil’s question should warrant such praise from his rebbe. Especially now that we see Betzaleil had a 50/50 chance of guessing correctly, what was so impressive about his input? He didn’t even win an argument over his rebbe anymore; he just applied common sense.
Apparantly, there must be something more than common sense to Betzaleil’s inference. But if Betzaleil didn’t just apply common sense, how did he come to the correct solution? How could Betzaleil tell which of Moshe’s instructions was in the proper order and which one served an alternate purpose? Let’s take a look at Betzaleil two options. Either the Aron was to be built first and the Oheil was listed first in VaYakheil for a separate reason, or the Oheil was to be built first and the Aron was listed first in Terumah for a separate reason. This “separate reason,” one would speculate, should be the reason why the Mishkan is being built in the first place, which is “ViShachanti BiSocham,” to establish a closer relationship with Hashem even after the distancing caused by the Cheit HaEigel. Therefore, Betzaleil had to discern which of these objects, the Oheil or the Aron, would facilitate closeness between the Bnei Yisrael and Hashem.
The correct choice is not so obvious. In fact, we need a Kasuv Shlishi, in Parashat Naso (7:89), to break up a contradiction between two pasukim in the Torah, one pasuk in Terumah (25:22) that implies that the voice came from above the Kapores upon the Aron, and a different pasuk in VaYikra (1:1) that implies that the voice came from the Ohiel. Betzaleil’s reasoning now becomes a real accomplishment, for not even Chazal could figure out from where the Shechina’s voice eminated without a drasha in the Torah. What then was Betzaleil’s incredible chidush?
The Cheit HaEigel was a result of the Bnei Yisrael’s feelings of distance from HaKadosh Baruch Hu; it refelcted their need for a physical intermediary. The Mishkan served as a solution to the Eigel because it served as a way the nation could physically feel Hashem’s presence within their midst. Therefore, before Hashem could communicate to the nation, His presence would have to be recognizable; only then would the Shechina reside in the camp’s midst. Between the Aron and the Oheil, the item that best facilitated this feeling of presence was the Oheil.
Betzaleil reasoned, “Common sense dictates that before one can recognize the physical presence of Hashem in this world, He should have a physical resting spot. The way of the world is that one first defines a space, and then fills it; one must always define a set environment before one can begin to discuss the notion of ‘presence.’ Presence can only be defined within a limited window of space and time, and only the Oheil allows for Hashem to have presence, not vice versa.”
Were the purpose of Binyan HaMishkan been for Hashem to simply speak to us, then the Aron would be considered the first item in the order of the construction because the Aron would be the Kli which would enable Hashem to speak from the Oheil. Without an Aron, there would be no place for the Shchina to dwell, and then the Oheil wouldn’t serve any purpose without an inhabitant. But Betzaeil wisely recognized there was more to the Mishkan than its purpose as a meeting place; it was a designated and defined meeting place.
This was the great Chidush of Betzaleil Ben Uri. And when Moshe heard how he reasoned the purpose for the Mishkan and understood exactly why it was being built, Moshe understood just how special Betzaleil was. He didn’t just make complex instructions sound simple, he could analyze an object, break down its components, and conclude what purpose it served from his analysis of those individual components. Betzaleil understood the interworkings of the not just the Keilim of the Mishkan, but of even their individual components, the gold silver copper etc. Perhaps this is what Rashi means to teach us when he introduces Fikudei as “the parasha that lists each metal as a component, pieces it together into Keilim and then constructs an interwoven Avodas HaYom out of those Keilim.”
While the parasha may seem like a total repeat of everything we described in Terumah, Titzaveh, Ki Tisa, and VaYakheil, Fikudei does much more. It is the parasha that overviews the entire construction process, from the little half bits of silver until the setting of whole loaves of bread. It is the parasha that recognizes the incredible detail accounted for within every grand process, that even a process as grand as Binyan HaMishkan is made up of nothing more than the design of this physical realm.
2.3.05
Parashat VaYakheil
Within his argument to Iyov’s three advisors, Elifaz Tzofar and Bildad, Elihu questions their right to accuse Hashem of mistreating their friend. Elihu remarks, “HaAmor LaMelech Bliya’al, Rashah El Nidivim?!” Would you ever call a king or nobles by derogatory names [despite the fact that they show unjust favoritism]?! Of course not! Elihu then draws a Kal ViChomer: “Asher Lo Nasa P’nei Sarim, ViLo Nikar Sho’a Lifnei Dal, Ki Ma’asei Yadav Kulam.” Then to Hashem, Who doesn’t raise the faces of officers [above others’] and doesn’t recognize an officer above a pauper, for they are all the work of His hands, [surely you would not blasphemy!] (Iyov 34:18-19).
It’s a very simple philosophy, but it bears a very simple flaw. Perhaps the reason one doesn’t call the king derogatory names is because the king shows favoritism. If one gets on the king’s bad side, then the king won’t unjustly favor him over other people. But perhaps one would naturally blasphemy Hashem; after all, He doesn’t favor one person over another, like a human king does. And even if there were consequences to blaspheming both a regular king and the Melech Malchei Melachim, Elihu still couldn’t draw a Kal ViChomer?
It’s quite likely that we are grossly misinterpreting Elihu’s advice, especially after we see the way Rashi uses these pasukim within his peirush on this week’s parasha. Rashi comments on the appointment of Ahaliav Ben Achisamach, from the lowly tribe of Dan, that Hashem intentionally equated this lowly man to Betzaleil Ben Uri, a man of noble lineage from the royal family of Yehuda. Why? In order to fulfill that which it says in the pasuk: “ViLo Nikar Sho’a Lifnei Dal.” In other words, Hashem’s appointment of Ahaliav, despite his lowly status, proves Elihu’s point in these pasukim, that Hashem does not favor the nobles over the paupers.
What a strange pasuk for Rashi to suggest as proof to Elihu’s point! Many great men came from lowly tribes, like Shimshon from Dan or Barak from Naftali; what makes Ahaliav any different? Furthermore, all those other people were outright leaders, chosen above all the other tribes to steer the nation in the right direction, but Ahaliav is equated to Betzaleil. If Hashem really wants to show that He does not favor the nobles over the paupers, why wouldn’t He appoint Ahaliav alone?
There is another, much more basic, question to be asked on this Rashi. Why is it written in Parashat VaYakheil? Why not mention this fact last week, by the introduction of Betzaleil and Ahaliav? This is the question of the Levush HaOrah, and he extends this question to another Rashi in our parasha. Just four pasukim earlier, Rashi comments that Chur is the son of Miriam. What is this doing in our parasha? Again, the Levush HaOrah asks why Rashi would inform us here instead of Ki Tisa, but in truth, one could really wonder why Rashi didn’t just tell us this back in BiShalach who Chur was back when he held up Moshe’s hands during the Bnei Yisrael’s battle against Amaleik.
The Levush HaOrah offers a possible answer to his challenge. If we look in Ki Tisa, we are not surprised to see Hashem introduce His appointment of Betzaleil with the Lashon of “Ri’eih,” as if to beseech Moshe’s approval. It is Hashem’s nature to act humbly and always consult those closest to him, like by the creation of Adam HaRishon. But when Moshe addresses the nation, he too declares “Re’eih Kara Hashem BiSheim Bitzaleil…” Why does Moshe require the approval of the nation? If Hashem were to command the Bnei Yisrael whom to appoint, they would surely listen!
Perhaps Moshe doesn’t require the nation’s approval to appoint Bitzaleil, but says “Re’eih” in order to appease them and reason with them why Betzaleil was appointed. Because Betzaleil is the great-grandson of Miriam, he is a relative of Moshe’s, and the people may begin to suspect Moshe of favoritism. They would claim that the appointment of Betzaleil was not by Hashem’s word but rather by Moshe’s own instruction. In anticipation, therefore, Moshe appeals to the nation’s common sense: “See for yourselves that Betzaleil was designated for this job by Hashem, for he is both a master artisan and a superb instructor. He clearly has the Ruach Elokim, and therefore he is right for the job.” Thus did Moshe prevent the people from suspecting him of favoritism.
The Levush HaOrah draws an interesting inference from this understanding of Rashi. Based on the pasukim of Ki Tisa alone, one would presume Betzaleil’s position was special, but not the most coveted job amongst the entire nation. But from Moshe’s appeal, it becomes clear just how great his concerns were, and just how great this position truly was. Because we don’t discover how coveted this job was until this week’s parasha, we can now understand why Rashi waits until here to equate Ahaliav to Betzaleil. Thus concludes the Levush HaOrah.
But we are left with a question; why appoint both? Why not only Ahaliav? Let’s back up a step. Part of the reason the Bnei Yisrael would come to covet this position is because of the lofty status of the person appointed to it. If they see a relative of Moshe’s – and a member of royalty too – assume the position, they would conclude that the position is obviously of very high esteem. Moshe would never let a man as special as Betzaleil assume a lowly job. But if Moshe would only appoint Ahaliav, what then would the people think? Would they still assume the job is worth their envy? Why would they ever envy a lowly member of Shevet Dan? In fact, the lowly lineage of Ahaliav would serve as an immediate remedy for any hostile feelings they might bear.
By equating Ahaliav to Betzaleil, Moshe forces the people to recognize that Ahaliav was designated for a position of high esteem. Because he is paired with a noble, we learn that no service to Hashem is considered too high for any individual (though some certain individuals were zocheh lofty positions based on their deeds).
And now we can make sense of Elihu’s Kal ViChomer. Elihu wasn’t just addressing any individual; he was specifically addressing the lowly individual. A lowly individual, like the devastated Iyov, would never receive anything of honor from any human king or any noble, and yet he would never consider speaking harshly to that king, though he never would expect to get anything in return for good grace. How much more so by Hashem, Who is willing to honor even the lowliest of individuals, should one never consider degrading His name or speaking bad of Him, for who knows what rewards await an unconditional allegiance to Him.
Elihu leaves us with a much more positive message. We do not merely believe that we are created equal; instead, we believe “Ki Ma’asei Yadav Kulam,” we are each carefully crafted by His hands to serve Him. We were each created with a special purpose, and a special potential to reach heights no human king or noble would ever permit, just like Ahaliav did.
Good Shabbos.
It’s a very simple philosophy, but it bears a very simple flaw. Perhaps the reason one doesn’t call the king derogatory names is because the king shows favoritism. If one gets on the king’s bad side, then the king won’t unjustly favor him over other people. But perhaps one would naturally blasphemy Hashem; after all, He doesn’t favor one person over another, like a human king does. And even if there were consequences to blaspheming both a regular king and the Melech Malchei Melachim, Elihu still couldn’t draw a Kal ViChomer?
It’s quite likely that we are grossly misinterpreting Elihu’s advice, especially after we see the way Rashi uses these pasukim within his peirush on this week’s parasha. Rashi comments on the appointment of Ahaliav Ben Achisamach, from the lowly tribe of Dan, that Hashem intentionally equated this lowly man to Betzaleil Ben Uri, a man of noble lineage from the royal family of Yehuda. Why? In order to fulfill that which it says in the pasuk: “ViLo Nikar Sho’a Lifnei Dal.” In other words, Hashem’s appointment of Ahaliav, despite his lowly status, proves Elihu’s point in these pasukim, that Hashem does not favor the nobles over the paupers.
What a strange pasuk for Rashi to suggest as proof to Elihu’s point! Many great men came from lowly tribes, like Shimshon from Dan or Barak from Naftali; what makes Ahaliav any different? Furthermore, all those other people were outright leaders, chosen above all the other tribes to steer the nation in the right direction, but Ahaliav is equated to Betzaleil. If Hashem really wants to show that He does not favor the nobles over the paupers, why wouldn’t He appoint Ahaliav alone?
There is another, much more basic, question to be asked on this Rashi. Why is it written in Parashat VaYakheil? Why not mention this fact last week, by the introduction of Betzaleil and Ahaliav? This is the question of the Levush HaOrah, and he extends this question to another Rashi in our parasha. Just four pasukim earlier, Rashi comments that Chur is the son of Miriam. What is this doing in our parasha? Again, the Levush HaOrah asks why Rashi would inform us here instead of Ki Tisa, but in truth, one could really wonder why Rashi didn’t just tell us this back in BiShalach who Chur was back when he held up Moshe’s hands during the Bnei Yisrael’s battle against Amaleik.
The Levush HaOrah offers a possible answer to his challenge. If we look in Ki Tisa, we are not surprised to see Hashem introduce His appointment of Betzaleil with the Lashon of “Ri’eih,” as if to beseech Moshe’s approval. It is Hashem’s nature to act humbly and always consult those closest to him, like by the creation of Adam HaRishon. But when Moshe addresses the nation, he too declares “Re’eih Kara Hashem BiSheim Bitzaleil…” Why does Moshe require the approval of the nation? If Hashem were to command the Bnei Yisrael whom to appoint, they would surely listen!
Perhaps Moshe doesn’t require the nation’s approval to appoint Bitzaleil, but says “Re’eih” in order to appease them and reason with them why Betzaleil was appointed. Because Betzaleil is the great-grandson of Miriam, he is a relative of Moshe’s, and the people may begin to suspect Moshe of favoritism. They would claim that the appointment of Betzaleil was not by Hashem’s word but rather by Moshe’s own instruction. In anticipation, therefore, Moshe appeals to the nation’s common sense: “See for yourselves that Betzaleil was designated for this job by Hashem, for he is both a master artisan and a superb instructor. He clearly has the Ruach Elokim, and therefore he is right for the job.” Thus did Moshe prevent the people from suspecting him of favoritism.
The Levush HaOrah draws an interesting inference from this understanding of Rashi. Based on the pasukim of Ki Tisa alone, one would presume Betzaleil’s position was special, but not the most coveted job amongst the entire nation. But from Moshe’s appeal, it becomes clear just how great his concerns were, and just how great this position truly was. Because we don’t discover how coveted this job was until this week’s parasha, we can now understand why Rashi waits until here to equate Ahaliav to Betzaleil. Thus concludes the Levush HaOrah.
But we are left with a question; why appoint both? Why not only Ahaliav? Let’s back up a step. Part of the reason the Bnei Yisrael would come to covet this position is because of the lofty status of the person appointed to it. If they see a relative of Moshe’s – and a member of royalty too – assume the position, they would conclude that the position is obviously of very high esteem. Moshe would never let a man as special as Betzaleil assume a lowly job. But if Moshe would only appoint Ahaliav, what then would the people think? Would they still assume the job is worth their envy? Why would they ever envy a lowly member of Shevet Dan? In fact, the lowly lineage of Ahaliav would serve as an immediate remedy for any hostile feelings they might bear.
By equating Ahaliav to Betzaleil, Moshe forces the people to recognize that Ahaliav was designated for a position of high esteem. Because he is paired with a noble, we learn that no service to Hashem is considered too high for any individual (though some certain individuals were zocheh lofty positions based on their deeds).
And now we can make sense of Elihu’s Kal ViChomer. Elihu wasn’t just addressing any individual; he was specifically addressing the lowly individual. A lowly individual, like the devastated Iyov, would never receive anything of honor from any human king or any noble, and yet he would never consider speaking harshly to that king, though he never would expect to get anything in return for good grace. How much more so by Hashem, Who is willing to honor even the lowliest of individuals, should one never consider degrading His name or speaking bad of Him, for who knows what rewards await an unconditional allegiance to Him.
Elihu leaves us with a much more positive message. We do not merely believe that we are created equal; instead, we believe “Ki Ma’asei Yadav Kulam,” we are each carefully crafted by His hands to serve Him. We were each created with a special purpose, and a special potential to reach heights no human king or noble would ever permit, just like Ahaliav did.
Good Shabbos.
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