On the first day of Av (רש''י, בראשית ח:ה,
ד''ה בעשירי וגו' נראו ראשי ההרים), the tops of the mountains
became visible. On the first day of
Tishrei (רש''י,
בראשית ח:יג, ד''ה בראשון). Noach removed the cover of the ark. These two events occur exactly two months, or
fifty-nine days (רש''י,
בראשית ז:י''ב, ד''ה ארבעים יום וגו') apart from one another.
The problem is that the Torah
relates other events to us that occurred in between, and these other events span
at least sixty-one days.
How could Noach see the mountain
tops on the first of Av, wait forty days to send the raven, wait seven more
days to send the dove, continue sending the dove for fourteen more days, and
open the ark’s cover on the first of Tishrei.
The math does not add up.
Perhaps we can crunch these events
into a comfortable fifty-nine day span by applying the general rule מקצת היום ככלו,
that part of a day may be counted as an entire day. Several mishnayot in Mesechet Nega’im illustrate
one application of this general rule:
עור
הבשר . . . מטמא בשני שבועות, שהן שלשה עשר יום.
הבגדים
. . . מטמאין בשני שבועות, שהן שלשה עשר יום.
הבתים. . . מטמאין
בשלשה שבועות, שהן תשעה עשר יום.
(מסכת נגעים, ג:ג, ז, ח)
A person quarantined with an affliction
on his skin, clothing, or house must be quarantined for up to three weeks to determine
the status of the affliction, i.e., whether or not the affliction is tzara’as. The mishna explains that a two‑week
quarantine period, which comprises two consecutive seven‑day quarantine periods,
lasts not fourteen but thirteen days.
This is because the last day of the first quarantine period counts as
the first day of the second quarantine period.
Likewise, a three‑week quarantine, which comprises three seven‑week
periods, lasts not twenty‑one but nineteen days since the last day of each of first
and second quarantine periods counts as the first day of the second and third quarantine
periods, respectively.
Let’s apply the same rule to the events
in our parasha. Three seven‑day periods span
the time between Noach’s sending of the raven and Noach’s final sending of the
dove. If we assume that (i) the last day
of the first seven‑day period is also the first day of the second seven‑day
period and that (ii) the last day of the second seven‑day period is also the
first day of the third seven‑day period, then these three seven‑day periods can
span nineteen days instead of twenty‑one.
(Note that the last day of the
forty‑day period cannot also count as the first day of the first seven‑day
period. This is because the pasuk (8:6) states
that Noach opened the window to send the raven “at the conclusion of forty
days,” i.e., not until the forty‑first day.
In the other instances, the pasuk only states that Noach waited “seven
days,” not that he waited to the conclusion of seven days.)
To recap, Noach sent the raven on
the forty‑first day of the fifty‑nine day span.
On the forty‑seventh day, he sent the dove for the first time. On the fifty‑fourth day, he sent the dove a
second time. Noach sent the dove a third
and final time on the fifty‑ninth day, and he waited until the conclusion of that
day to see whether the dove would return.
At the conclusion of the fifty‑ninth day, he determined that the dove
was not coming back as it had the previous two times. The next day, the sixtieth day, the first of
Tishrei, Noach opened the cover of the ark.
What was the snake's endgame? Why did it care whether Adam or Chava ate from the tree of knowledge? Rashi, quoting Chazal, addreses this question:
מאיזו סבה קפץ הנחש עליהם ראה
אותם ערומים ועוסקים בתשמיש לעין כל ונתאוה לה
(רש"י, בראשית ג:א)
אתה לא נתכוונת אלא שימות אדם
כשיאכל הוא תחלה ותשא את חוה ולא באת לדבר אל חוה תחלה אלא לפי שהנשים דעתן קלות
להתפתות ויודעות לפתות את בעליהן לפיכך ואיבה אשית
(רש"י, בראשית ג:טו)
According to Rashi, the snake saw Chava naked and wanted to
marry her. But in order to marry Chava,
the snake would first have to kill Adam.
So the snake schemed to kill Adam by having him eat from the tree of
knowledge. Of course, the snake knew
that he could not coax Adam into eating from the tree. Only Chava could do that. So instead, the snake coaxed Chava, hoping
that she in turn would coax Adam. And
after Adam would eat from the tree, the snake would be free to marry Chava.
The snake’s plan is the dumbest plan ever contrived. Did the snake consider
that Chava would also die once she ate from the tree? With Adam dead and Chava widowed, the snake would
be free to marry Chava. But the snake’s
plan would leave both Adam and Chava dead.
This uncovers a fundamental flaw in the snake’s plan. Let’s break down the flaw, starting by outlining the
various goals the snake's plan sought to achieve:
·The snake
began with an overall goal, to marry Chava.
Let’s call this the Primary Goal.
·In order to
achieve its Primary Goal, the snake also had to kill Adam. Let’s call this the Secondary Goal.
·In order to
achieve the Secondary Goal, the snake had to coax Chava into feeding the fruit
of the tree of knowledge to Adam. Let’s
call this the Tertiary Goal.
The snake recognized it was incapable of immediately achieving
either the Primary Goal (since Chava was already married) or the Secondary Goal
(since Adam could not be coaxed by anyone other than his wife), so it focused
on achieving the Tertiary Goal. But the
snake did not realize that the Tertiary Goal undermined the Primary Goal. By coaxing Chava, she would no longer be
alive, and the snake could no longer marry her.
This is what Rashi means by the words “ונתאוה לה,” that the
snake desired Chava. This was not a
rational desire. And the schemes contrived
by the snake to fulfill its desires were not rational schemes. In fact, they were stupid and poorly
contrived schemes.
The snake’s Primary Goal was fueled by its desires. Therefore, as the snake’s desires intensified,
the snake’s goals changed. In the end,
Rashi explains that the snake abandoned its plans of marrying Chava for a far baser
goal:
כשנתן לה עצה לאכול מן העץ בא עליה
(רש"י,
מס' שבת, דף קמו: ד"ה כשבא נחש על חוה)
At some point, the snake gave up on achieving its goal of
marrying Chava. The desire for Chava was
just too strong. Instead, the snake slept
with Chava, settling for a quick fulfillment of its desires in lieu of an eternal
marriage.
Consider a young man who sees a pretty woman. The young man starts scheming about how he is
going to marry that woman. Of course,
every scheme he contrives is the stupidest scheme ever. The scheming leads to obsession, not
marriage. The snake is that young man.
In the end, the snake’s schemes lead to the deaths of
Adam and Chava. But it ends the worst
for the snake, who is banished to eating dirt and having its skull crushed in by
mankind. That is what the pasuk means
when it says והנחש היה ערום מכל, that the snake was most scheming
of all. Scheming has nothing to do with
a well planned endgame. In fact, things
always end worst for the schemer.
For the most part, Sefer Devarim is a recapitulation of the exodus from Egypt and the forty years of traveling in the desert. Moshe Rabbeinu recounts the nation’s sins: the golden calf, (Devarim 9:12-24), the spies, (1:22-46), and the rebellion of Korach, (11:6), and he rebukes the people for their waywardness. Moshe reflects on the experience of Mattan Torah at Har Sinai. (4:10-15, 5:1-28). Moshe reinstructs several Mitzvos, some of which have appeared previously in the Torah and some of which have not, but all of which were originally transmitted from Hashem to the nation in full detail at Sinai.[1] Moshe channels these reflections into a final message, urging the nation to keep the Mitzvos and follow in Hashem’s ways so that they will merit living peacefully and prosperously on their inherited land for generations to come. (11:13-25).
The last eight verses of Parashat Ki Tavo (Devarim 29:1-8) are themselves a recapitulation of sorts.[2] Moshe Rabbeinu mentions the exodus from Egypt, (29:1), references the wondrous miracles Hashem performed both in Egypt and in the desert, (29:2-5), revisits the conquest of Emor and Bashan, the lands east of the Jordan River, (29:6-7), and concludes with a brief request that the nation keep their treaty with Hashem so that they “succeed in all that you perform.” (29:8).
This nested recapitulation raises several questions. First of all, why does a recap need a recap? Moshe has already summarized all the important historical events; why does he need to provide a second summary. Perhaps this second summary is a further summarized version of Sefer Devarim itself. But still, why is this second summary so small? Sefer Devarim is approximately one-third of the size of the previous three Sefarim: Shemot, VaYikra and BaMidbar. It is therefore plausible that a good summary of Sefer Devarim would be about one-third the size of the Sefer. However, this second summary is only about one-hundredth the size of Sefer Devarim. How can something so severely truncated possibly function as a sufficient summary of any story, all the more so an already summarized account of an even longer story?
Second, the content of the recap in Ki Tavo bears little resemblance to the content of Sefer Devarim. There is no mention of the spies or golden calf. Nor is there mention of Mattan Torah. The nation fought more armies than just those of Emor and Bashan; for instance, they defeated the armies of Amaleik (Shemot 17:9-16) and Midyan (BaMidbar 31:1-12). Why does Moshe Rabbeinu skip through so much narrative? And why does he keep his request that the nation keep Hashem’s Covenant to an absolute minimum, whereas he repeats this message over and over and over throughout the entire Sefer Devarim?[3]
Third, the recap in Ki Tavo does not mention the manna that the people ate for forty years, or the well that they drank from, or the clouds that protected them. Instead, Moshe Rabbeinu focuses on their lack of bread and wine, and on their everlasting clothing. Why does Moshe overlook the more obvious miracles in lieu of these lesser details? Furthermore, while everlasting clothing and survival without bread may be miraculous, living forty years without wine is not much of a miracle. Why then should Moshe include the lack wine these other miracles?
Perhaps the lack of wine is not as much of a miracle than it is a deprivation of luxury. In turn, the same could be said for the lack of bread and the lack of changes of clothing. In fact, when Moshe recounts these details the first time, (Devarim 8:3-5), Moshe says that Hashem “starved you … your shirt did not wear out and your feet did not swell … as a father afflicts a son, [so too] Hashem afflicts you.”[4] There is therefore reason to suspect that these verses of Moshe’s recapitulation in Ki Tavo do not list examples of “miracles” but rather examples of starvation, deprivation and affliction.
If Moshe Rabbeinu really wants to remind the nation about their suffering in the desert, he definitely picks an appropriate time. The Ki Tavo recapitulation appears immediately after the Tochacha, a litany of curses, ninety-eight in total, that befall the nation whenever it strays from Hashem. Compared to the curses that appear in the Tochacha (which include horrors as unspeakable as parents consuming the flesh of their own children),[5] the hunger and affliction of the desert probably don’t seem too terrible.
But still, what message does Moshe hope to send by reflecting on the nation’s forty years of suffering? What is special about this day - the day that Moshe Rabbeinu delivers the Tochacha - that compels him to revisit the suffering of the desert? And what compels him to connect it specifically to the miracles in Mitzrayim and the conquest of Emor and Bashan?
In truth, the suffering in the desert is really very much alike the curses of the Tochacha. Perhaps what Moshe hopes to accomplish by revisiting this suffering is to put the Tochacha in proper perspective.
The curses of the Tochacha are not punishments for wrongdoing. One is not punished with a specific curse for having violated a specific Mitzvah. Rather, the curses of the Tochacha are an outgrowth of the irreconcilable incongruity between the goals of an individual’s personal lifestyle and the actual trajectory of the world. To clarify, here is an illustration:
Along the course of your life, you make certain choices decisions and commitments. These choices decisions and commitments will inevitably lead you to believe that you understand at least some small goal or purpose of your life. For instance, if you go to business school, then you probably have aspirations of some day running a business, or you will at least develop these aspirations. While you many not fully grasp the ultimate purpose of your life, you devote a sizable portion of your efforts to succeeding in the business world. This personal goal may be congruous with the ultimate course that the world runs, in which case you find success in your endeavor. Alternatively, this personal goal may stand in total contrast to the ultimate course of the world, in which case the stock market unexpectedly crashes and you find yourself hopelessly destitute, starving and suffering. You have committed a large enough portion of your efforts into (what you did not realize at the time was) a fruitless endeavor, and the devastation that you feel in the wake of your failure will hopefully startle you awake and compel you to begin along a new path.[6]
The suffering that comes along with such catastrophe is not a punishment for having violated the Mitzvot; rather, it is a harsh consequence of following a path incongruous to that of reality. If one follows the Torah and all the Mitzvot, then one’s path will be congruous to that of reality, and one can succeed in his endeavors. However, catastrophe can (and statistically along a long enough measure of time, will) emerge from even the slightest deviation from this path.
This is where the Jewish nation found themselves after leaving Egypt. After two hundred and ten years of praying for freedom, wishing for an identity, they suddenly find themselves free and with a new national identity. But a new question forms: Now what? After centuries of knowing exactly what they wanted, the Jews find themselves with no food, no changes of clothing and no land to call home. Everything which they once enjoyed, everything which once gave them identity - the food one eats, the clothes one wears - was reduced to an absolute minimum, next to nothing. They wore the same shirt and the same shoes, every day, for forty years. They ate the same funny looking food pellets that rained from the sky, every day, for forty years. And when all their preconceptions of freedom and identity were finally broken, after they reached the saturation of their suffering, they reached Emor and Bashan, and they conquered and inherited their land, and they finally put their feet down to rest.
Until they reached the land, Moshe tells them, they did not have the “heart to know, the eyes to see or the ears to hear.”[7] They pursued a goal that had nothing to do with reality. They thought they had achieved freedom and national identity by leaving Egypt, and they felt fulfilled. But in truth, they were far from fulfilled, for they were really on their way to a land Hashem had promised their forefathers centuries earlier. And after forty years of stripping away their false notions of freedom and fulfillment, the nation was finally prepared to live a life congruous with reality in Hashem’s chosen land.
As Moshe closes his reflection on the journey through the desert, he says to the nation, “If there is anything you should learn from your journey, it is that you have no idea what your true goals in life are. You will think you know what to do and how to succeed, but you have no clue. Just like you had no clue when you left Egypt forty years ago. You couldn’t have had a clue. You were so blinded by the awesome miracles and signs. So what did Hashem do? He led you around for forty years, and you wore nothing more than the shirt on your back and the shoes on your feet, and you didn’t feast on bread or sip wine, so that when you finally reached and conquered this wonderful land you could recognize and understand that this is why you left Egypt in the first place, and not for any other reason or purpose.”
“VaYeishev,” (and he settled), Yaakov requested to settle in tranquility, but the tumult of Yoseif sprang up on him. The righteous request to settle in tranquility in this world, [but] Hashem says, ‘is it not enough for the righteous what is fixed for them in the World to Come that they request to settle in this world [as well]?’
Rashi, Beraishit 37:2
There is a fine line between achievement and fulfillment. Yaakov lived a life of tremendous wealth and achievement, but the moment he felt fulfilled and content, his world was thrown into utter chaos. Yaakov did not realize that he was destined to travel to Egypt, and although he eventually reached this destination and he brought the trajectory of life back in congruence with reality, he suffered deeply through the process.
And so Moshe’s final word of advice to the nation is to keep with the Covenant of Hashem. “If you have ever experienced suffering, loss and devastation,” Moshe says, “it was for one reason and one reason alone. It was because your actions were not in line with the course of the world around you. One night you went to sleep thinking you had your whole life figured out - or at least some part of it - and the next morning you woke up and asked yourself, ‘Now what.’ Because if you really had everything figured out, you wouldn’t feel broken, devastated, abandoned, and suffering. Would you? But of course you feel broken. Of course you are devastated. You were doing something that was simply incompatible with the way of the Torah, something that simply could not fit in line with Hashem’s Covenant. And so in retrospect, it’s really no surprise today that you woke up and realized that you knew nothing, and that you had nothing. And it’s no surprise that it hurt terribly.”
“And so I beg you once more. Follow Hashem’s covenant and live a life in line with reality. And maybe, just maybe, if you can do that much, you can ‘succeed in all that you perform.’”
1 See Rashi, VaYikra 25:1
2 Although these verses appear in the middle of Sefer Devarim, the end of Parashat Ki Tavo marks a relatively appropriate point for a recapitulation as the subsequent parasha, Nitzavim, marks the beginning of Moshe Rabbeinu’s parting speech on the day of his death (See Rashi, Devarim 29:9). While Sefer Devarim reflects on the saga of the Jewish nation’s journey through the desert, Parashat Nitzavim changes course and begins to reflect on the saga of Moshe Rabbeinu’s life and what his imminent passing will mean for the nation.
3 For instance, see Devarim 4:1,5,40, 5:1,28, 6:1,17, 7:11, 8:1, 10:13, 11:1, etc. Additionally, one may wish to ask why Moshe focuses in Ki Tavo on Hashem’s “Bris,” but fails to mention the “Mitzvot,” “Eidot,” “Chukim” and “Mishpatim” which factor so prevalently into the rest of the Sefer.
4 Technically, a similar claim could be said of the clouds, manna and well, which Moshe makes reference to a few verses later (Devarim 8:15-16). However, while Moshe says the clouds manna and well “tested” the people, he does not mention “affliction” or “starvation” as he did a few verses earlier by the clothing and lack of bread.
5 Devarim, 28:53-57
6 Be mindful that even in the wake of a catastrophic market crash, not all will find themselves destitute and suffering, probably because there are many people for whom business is in fact a path congruous with reality. It is only the one who both fails anddespairs who must recalculate his trajectory.
