Haftarat Acharey Mot or Kedoshim—Amos: Chosen for Collective Punishment?

Who are the “chosen people”? The Hebrew Bible assigns that designation to the ethnic group called the Israelites. But why would the God of all humanity favor one ethnic group over all others?

Furthermore, the God of Israel in the Hebrew Bible repeatedly calls for good deeds, for behavior that meets the ethical and religious standards laid out by God’s laws. Why wouldn’t God reward righteous individuals and punish wrongdoers regardless of their ancestry?

Both of these questions are addressed in the haftarah (reading from the Prophets) of Amos 9:7-15, which accompanies either this week’s Torah portion from Leviticus, Acharey Mot, or next week’s, Kedoshim, depending on the tradition a congregation follows.

Chosen people

The portion Kedoshim contains this statement that the Israelites are God’s chosen people:

And you shall be holy to me, because I, God, am holy, and I separated you from the other peoples to be mine. (Leviticus 20:26)

But the book of Deuteronomy expresses the idea of a chosen people the most clearly:

Amos, by Karl von Blaas, Altlerchenfelder Church, 19th century

For you are a holy people to God, your God. God, your God, chose you to be God’s as a people: a personal possession treasured more than any of the [other] peoples who are on the face of the earth. Not because you are more numerous than any of the peoples did God want you and choose you—for you are the smallest of all peoples. But because of God’s love for you, and to keep the oath that he swore to your forefathers, God brought you out from Egypt with a strong hand and rescued you from the house of slavery, from the hand of Pharaoh, the king of Egypt. (Deuteronomy 7:6-8)

A passage in the book of Amos repeats this idea of Israelites as God’s chosen people, and adds a consequence:

“Listen to this word that God has spoken about you Israelites,
About the whole family that I brought up from the land of Egypt, saying:
Only you yadati
Out of all the families of the earth.
Therefore I call you to a reckoning
For all your iniquities!” (Amos 3:1-2)

yadati (ָדַעְתֱִי) = I know, I am acquainted with, I understand, I care about, I have been intimate with. (A form of the verb yada, יָדַע.)

According to the Hebrew Bible, God arranges the punishment of all kingdoms that go too far in their wrongdoing. According to Amos, this includes the two kingdoms of Israelites, even though God has been the closest to them.

Disowned people?

Then what are we to make of the following verse, which begins this week’s haftarah reading in the book of Amos?

“Aren’t you like the Kushiyim [Nubians] to me, you Israelites?”
—declares God.
“Didn’t I bring up Israel from the land of Mitzrayim [Egypt],
And the Plishtiyim [Philistines] from Kaftor [Crete],
And Aram from Kir?” (Amos 9:7)

This verse reads like a rebuttal of the idea of the Israelites as God’s “chosen people”. The Israelites are no more beloved than the Kushiyim from distant Nubia (Ethiopia). Furthermore, bringing a whole people from one land to another does not mean anything special either; after all, God also arranged the migration of the Philistines from Kaftor (Crete) to the coast west of Judah, and the Aramaeans from Kir (location unknown) to the land east of Israel.

But I suspect Amos’s real point is: “Who do you think you are? You’re not so special!”

730 BCE, during Neo-Assyrian Conquest of Israel

Collective punishment

Like most liberal Jews today, I prefer the idea that God cares equally about all ethnic groups; we have some differences, but we are equally beloved, and we humans should treat members of all ethnic groups with respect. However, that is probably not what Amos meant. Given the context of the rest of the book of Amos, God is disappointed that the Israelites are not behaving better than any other ethnic group. Therefore God plans to eliminate them.

Hey, the eye of my lord God
Is on the guilty kingdom!
“And I will wipe it off
From upon the face of the earth!” (Amos 9:8)

Collective punishment is the norm for God in the bible; if the majority of people in a kingdom act unethically according to the standards of the time, God threatens to destroy the whole kingdom. When a kingdom is conquered by an enemy, the prophets explain it as God’s punishment, inflicted because either its king or too many of its people were wrong-doers.

The book of Amos begins with prophecies that God will inflict collective punishment on other countries in the Ancient Near East for their war crimes: Aram, the city-states of the Philistines, Tyre, Edom, Ammon, and Moab.¹

Then Amos does use the same poetic formula in his prophecies against Judah and Israel. However, God threatens to punish these two kingdoms not for crimes against other countries, but for crimes within their own borders. Judah will be punished for worshipping other gods, and the northern kingdom of Israel will be punished for cruelty to the poor and violation of what should be sacred.²

Amos does not mention the Assyrian Empire, which has been conquering or subjugating neighboring kingdoms. Other books of the Prophets report that God uses the Assyrians to punish other kingdoms, then uses the Babylonian Empire to punish the Assyrians. (See my post Haftarah for Bo—Jeremiah: The Ruler of All Armies.)

Rarely is there any concept of God picking and choosing among the individual citizens of a kingdom, punishing the guilty ones and saving the innocent ones. But at this point in the book of Amos, God has another thought:

“Except that I will not actually wipe out the House of Jacob,”
 —declares God. (Amos 9:8)

This may be an insertion by a later editor.³ Yet in the next verse, God says that the good and wicked people of Israel will be separated in a process like shaking a sieve.

“And no pebble will fall to the ground.
By the sword they will die,
All the guilty of my people,
The ones who say:
The evil will never approach or confront us!” (Amos 9:10)

Probably the wicked Israelites are the pebbles that will remain in the sieve, where they will be killed (presumably by the Assyrians, who will soon target the Kingdom of Israel).The innocent will survive, but they will be scattered in exile. (The historical record shows that the standard practice of the Neo-Assyrian Empire, upon conquering a new land, was to deport most of its native population to distant parts of their empire, and move in people from other locations.)

The wicked Israelites believe that God will never punish them; they think God is too blind to see what they are pulling off, or too weak to do anything about it. According to Amos, God says they are wrong; when Israel is conquered, the guilty will all be killed. Only the good individuals will survive, albeit in exile.

(Historically, the so-called “Lost Tribes of Israel” were deported by the Assyrians from 734 to 715 B.C.E.. The deportees and their descendants remained scattered throughout the Neo-Assyrian Empire, never to return. But other survivors of the Assyrian conquest escaped and settled in the southern kingdom of Judah, where they assimilated with their fellows from the same ethnic group.)

Collective reward

The remainder of the haftarah promises that someday God will restore one large, unified kingdom of Israelites, as in the time of King David, and the land will produce great agricultural plenty for its people.

The final verse of both the haftarah and the book of Amos is a divine promise:

“And I will plant them on their own soil
And they will never again be uprooted
From upon their soil that I gave them,”
—says God, your God. (Amos 9:15)

When will that permanent planting happen? Amos does not say. But the happy ending of the prophecy is about collective, not individual, reward.

The religion of the ancient Israelites, with its emphasis on animal sacrifices and endorsement of war, died with the fall of the second temple in Jerusalem in 70 C.E. Over the past two millennia, the Jewish religion has shifted toward an emphasis on prayer and endorsement of the Torah passages about loving the stranger and freeing the poor from oppression.

Yet many people today, Jews and non-Jews, still believe that their own religion is the only right one, the only true religion—and therefore they and their co-religionists are God’s chosen people.

I pray that we all receive the divine inspiration that Amos (or his later editor) received, and reject the idea of a biased God who singles out one ethnic or religious group for extra benefits. God rescues lots of people and brings them to new lands. In God’s eyes, Amos reports, Israelites are the same as the Kushites.

I wish I could also pray that good individuals will have good lives, and only wicked individuals will suffer. But I am too much of a realist for that. Acts of nature (“acts of God”) affect everyone who happens to be in the vicinity. And acts of organized human groups such as nations also have a collective impact, for good or evil.

Yet as individuals, we can be good to other individuals. And we can try to be a good influence on the groups and nations we belong to.

Amos 1:2-2:3.
Amos 2:4-8.
“The prophet has just represented God as saying He will destroy the offending kingdom from the face of the earth. Although it is possible that he wants to qualify this sweeping declaration, one suspects that the mitigation of the prophecy of destruction is an editorial addition—especially since this entire sentence does not scan as poetry.” (Robert Alter,The Hebrew Bible, Volume 2: Prophets, W.W. Norton & Company, New York, 2019, p. 1279.)

Pesach: Who Is Elijah?

Passover cup by Johann Jakob
Runnecke, 18th century,
Jewish Museum

During this week of Passover (Pesach, פֳּסַח), Jews have been gathered around tables to celebrate liberation. Our ceremony (seder, סֵדֶר) has fourteen steps, punctuated by four cups of wine. When we pour the fourth cup of wine for each person at the table, we also pour wine into a cup that has been standing untouched the whole evening: the cup of Elijah.

Then we stand up, and someone opens the door to invite Elijah inside to join us. (This is the second time we open the door during the seder; before the meal, we open it to invite “all who are hungry” to come in and eat with us.)

While we wait for Elijah, we read a short passage. The traditional reading, from the centuries when almost every non-Jew was an enemy, consists of three biblical quotations asking for God’s wrath to destroy the enemies of Jews:

Pour out your wrath on the nations that do not recognize you, and on kingdoms that do not proclaim your name; because they ate up Jacob and made his abode a desolation. (Psalm 79:6-7) Pour out on them your curse and let your rage engulf them. (Psalm 69:25) Pursue in rage, and annihilate them from under the heavens of God. (Lamentations 3:66)

The connection between this reading and Elijah is tenuous. However, Elijah is portrayed in a few stories from the first book of Kings as a wrathful zealot bent on destroying the worshipers of other gods.

Many modern seders replace this reading with something less dire that refers to biblical stories in which Elijah orders kings around, or rescues the unfortunate, or becomes an angel instead of dying.

After that, we sing a song with these words¹ before we close the door:

Eliyahu, hanavi (Elijah the prophet)
Eliyahu, haTishbi (Elijah the Tishbite)
Eliyahu, Eliyahu, Eliyahu haGiladi (Elijah the Giladite)
Bimheirah veyameinu (Quickly, in our days)
Yavo eleinu (May he come to us)
Im moshiach ben David (With the anointed one, descendant of David)

Moshiach (מָשִׁיחַ) is “messiah” in English. The Christian story is that the messiah arrived over 2,000 years ago as Jesus. The Jewish story is that the messiah (or the messianic age) will not arrive until the whole world has become a place of peace, justice, kindness, and wisdom. So naturally Jews hope Moshiach will come during our lifetimes.

But why do we also call for Elijah to come to us? It depends on which characteristic of the prophet—or angel—we consider.

Elijah the wrathful zealot

Elijah first appears in the Hebrew Bible after Ahab has become the king of the northern kingdom of Israel. Ahab marries the Phoenician princess Jezebel, and erects an altar for Baal and a pole for Asherah in his capital city, Samaria. The prophet Elijah is driven by his desire to eliminate the worship of other gods in the kingdom of Israel. First he declares a long drought, presumably so the Israelites will be realize their own God, Y-H-V-H, has the power to destroy them. After three years of drought, he stages a dramatic contest between Y-H-V-H and Baal at Mount Carmel.

Elijah’s Sacrifice on Mt. Carmel,
by William Brassey Hole

When Elijah’s God wins, the Israelites prostrate themselves and shout:

“Y-H-V-H, he is the only god! Y-H-V-H, he is the only god!” Then Elijah said to them: “Seize the prophets of Baal! Don’t let any of them escape!” And they seized them, and Elijah took them down to the Wadi Kishon and slaughtered them there. (1 Kings 19:39-40)

Then God brings rain. (See my blog post: Haftarat Ki Tissa—1 Kings: Ecstatic versus Rational Prophets.)

Elijah’s zeal for God shows up again in a story about King Ahab’s successor, his son Achaziyahu. The new king falls out a window, and sends messengers to ask a god in Ekron whether he will recover. Elijah intercepts the messengers and tells them King Achaziyahu will die because he sought out a foreign god instead of asking a prophet of Y-H-V-H. The king sends fifty soldiers to arrest Elijah, and their captain climbs the hill where the prophet is sitting and orders him to come down. Elijah replies:

“If I am a man of God, fire will come down from the heavens and consume you and your fifty!” (2 Kings 1:10)

Obligingly, God incinerates the soldiers with fire from heaven. The king sends another fifty men, with the same result. The third time, the captain begs Elijah to please spare him and his men. No fire appears, and Elijah follows the captain to the palace, where he tells the king that he will not rise from his bed, but will die for his disloyalty to God. Achaziyahu dies.²

Elijah the insolent

Another approach to Elijah’s part of the Passover seder is to emphasize his refusal to submit to authority.

When Elijah first shows up in the bible, he is identified by his clan (Tishbi) and region (Gilead), as in the Passover song. Then, with no transition, he speaks abruptly to King Ahab.

Then Elijah the Tishbite, an inhabitant of Gilead, said to Ahab: “As Y-H-V-H lives, the God of Israel whom I wait on—there will be no dew nor rain these years unless my mouth pronounces it!” (1 Kings 17:1)

Whenever Elijah speaks to a king, he uses none of the customary courtesies. He never refers to himself as the king’s servant, nor says please, nor uses any honorifics. He does not respect human authority. (He also appears to be arrogant in his assumption that when he says a miracle will happen, God will follow through. But God always does. And when God gives him an order, Elijah always obeys.)

After three years of drought, God tells him:

“Go, appear to Ahab, and I will give rain to the face of the earth.” (1 Kings 18:1)

When he meets King Ahab outside the city of Samaria, Elijah criticizes him for following other gods, then gives him orders:

“And now, assemble all of Israel at Mount Carmel for me, along with the 450 prophets of Baal and the 400 prophets of Asherah who eat from Jezebel’s table.” (1 Kings 18:19)

King Ahab obeys.

Elijah the compassionate

The prophet Elijah is high-handed with kings, soldiers, and the prophets of other gods. But he is thoughtful when it comes to the unfortunate. Some seders tell the story of how he saved a poor widow and her son.

After Elijah announces the long drought, God tells him where to hide from the agents of King Ahab and Queen Jezebel. His second hiding place is the house of a widow and her son in a village near Phoenicia. When Elijah arrives, the widow tells him she has only enough flour and oil to bake a couple of biscuits³ before she and her son starve to death. Elijah tells her to make a small biscuit for him first, and promises that God will make a miracle so her jar never runs out of flour and her jug never runs out of oil until it rains again.⁴ The widow obeys the prophet, God makes the miracle, and Elijah lives in the room on the widow’s rooftop.

Then her son gets sick. When the boy stops breathing, Elijah carries him upstairs and lays him on his own bed.

Elijah Raises the Widow’s Son, by James Tissot, circa 1900

Then he stretched himself out over the boy three times, and he called out to Y-H-V-H and said: “Y-H-V-H, my God, please bring back the life inside this boy!” (1 Kings 17:21)

The boy revives.

In a later story, Elijah is compassionate even when he is in despair, believing that he has failed in his mission to convert the whole kingdom of Israel to worshiping only Y-H-V-H. He heads south into the Negev, hoping to die there instead of at the hand of Queen Jezebel.⁵ On the way he thoughtfully leaves his servant in the town of Beersheba, so the man will not die in the desert with him.⁶

Elijah the angel

The final biblical story about Elijah describes his non-death. His disciple Elisha knows it is Elijah’s last day on earth, and sticks close to his master, even though Elijah asks him to stay behind three times. When they reach the Jordan River, Elijah rolls up his mantle (cloak) and slaps the water with it. The river divides and the two men walk across the riverbed.

Elijah Carried Away into Heaven by a Chariot of Fire,
by James Tissot, circa 1900

And they kept on walking and talking. And hey! A chariot of fire and horses of fire! And they separated the two of them. And Elijah went up in a whirlwind to the heavens. (2 Kings 2:11)

Elisha watches, then picks up Elijah’s mantle.

According to later Jewish writings, Elijah becomes an angel (i.e. a supernatural messenger or emissary of God) after God’s whirlwind carries him up to the heavens. This concept first appears in the book of Malachi. In the third chapter God, addressing the Israelites, says:

“Here I am, sending my malakh; and he will clear the way before me, and suddenly the lord that you are seeking will come to the temple. And the malakh of the covenant that you desire, hey! He is coming!” (Malachi 3:1)

malakh (מַלְאַךְ) = messenger, emissary. When God sends a malakh, it is often translated into English as “angel”.

The text postpones identifying this malakh. The next verse warns that the arrival of God’s emissary is not all good news.

“But who can endure the day he comes? And who can stand when he appears? For he is like the fire of a smelter and the lye of a fuller.” (Malachi 3:2)

The book of Malachi ends with God announcing:

“Behold, I am sending you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of Y-H-V-H comes. And he will turn the hearts of fathers toward sons, and the hearts of sons toward fathers, lest I come and I strike the land with complete destruction.” (Malachi 3:23-24)

Now we know the malakh or angel is Elijah, centuries after he ascended to the heavens. The “day of Y-H-V-H” is a day of final judgment anticipated in some later books of the Hebrew Bible and in the Talmud. After that “day”, those whom God has found acceptable will live in “the world to come”, in which the Moshiach reigns.

But first, Elijah will do what he can to improve people’s hearts so they can enter the world of the Moshiach.

The tradition that Elijah is still among us as a malakh continued from the Talmud to 19^th-century Chassidic tales, in which Elijah appears disguised as an ordinary human being. He either rewards a good person or makes a man realize he has behaved badly and only later does the person realize it was Elijah.

This Elijah no longer despairs of reforming people, but enlightens them one at a time.

Which Elijah do you want to invite into your house—or into the world today? The zealot who wipes out people who are irredeemable? The insolent prophet who demonstrates that authority figures have less power than they think? The compassionate man who goes out of his way to save the lives of the unfortunate? Or the divine emissary who improves the world slowly, one person at a time, until Moshiach comes?

Jews also sing this song during the ritual of Havdalah marking the end of Shabbat and the start of a new week.
2 Kings 1:2-17.
The Hebrew word is translate here as “biscuit” is ugah, עֻגָה = a round, flat wheat cake baked on hot stones or ashes.
1 Kings 17:13-14.
Jezebel sends a messenger to tell Elijah that she is going to kill him (1 Kings 19:1-2).
1 Kings 19:3.

Metzora: Erasing the Taint

The idea of being tamei (טָמֵא) is hard to understand in the 21^st century. The adjective tamei has been translated into English as “unclean”, but it has nothing to do with dirt. It has been translated as “impure” or “contaminated”, but it has nothing to do with a being less than 100% one substance. It has been translated as “defiled”, but that word is appropriate only when one is tamei because of idol worship or sexual misdeeds; the Torah does not consider childbirth or married intercourse defiling, yet both activities make people temporarily tamei.

“Ritually impure” often works as a definition of tamei, because in the Hebrew Bible a tamei person is not allowed to enter even the outer courtyard of the precincts where God is worshipped (the tent sanctuary first, later the temple). But a person who is tamei because of a skin condition called tzara-at (צָרַעַת)¹ is not allowed inside the camp or town at all; that person might be considered “socially impure”.

Animals and objects can also be tamei, regardless of their location. An animal that is not kosher for people to eat is called tamei.² The carcass of a dead non-kosher animal is tamei, and any person who touches it becomes tamei.³ Cloth and leather become tamei if mold grows on them. (See last week’s post: Tazria: Mold or Mood?) Some objects are tamei merely because they touched a tamei person or animal.

Being tamei is often treated as a contagious condition, but it does not refer to any contagious diseases. Touching someone or something that is already tamei spreads an abstract contagion. Perhaps “tainted” or “icky” captures the meaning of the word—except that tamei has a religious as well as a visceral aspect.

The adjective tamei and its related verb and noun appear 269 times in the Hebrew Bible. In the book of Leviticus alone, words from the root tamei occur 136 times!⁴

Why is tumah (טֻמְאָה, the condition of being tamei) a major theme in Leviticus? In ancient Judah, priests diagnosed the condition, told people what to do about it, and performed purification rituals when needed.⁵ Modern scholars have concluded that Leviticus was written by priests over a period of several centuries, probably between the 7^th and 4^th centuries B.C.E., and its main purpose was to describe the responsibilities of priests.

Tamei skin conditions

This week’s Torah portion, Metzora (Leviticus 14:1-15:32), gives instructions on three of the many types of tumah: human skin diseases, moldy house walls, and genital discharges.

The first section describes the ritual by which a priest changes a person who has recovered from one of the skin conditions called tzara-at from tamei to tahor.

This is the teaching of the metzora at the time of his taharah … (Leviticus 14:2)

metzora (מְצֺרָע) = person with one of the skin conditions called tzara-at.

taharah (חָהָרָה) = state of being tahor; process of becoming tahor. (Tahor, טָהוֹר = not tamei; clean, ritually or socially pure, not tainted or icky.)

A metzora must live outside the camp or town. If the skin of the metzora appears to have returned to normal, a priest must go out and inspect it. If the priest deems that there is no more tzara-at, he assembles the items needed for the first of several rituals to confirm that the man or woman is now tahor and can return to normal life.

…he will take for the mitaheir two live tahor birds, and cedar wood, and red stuff, and [a branch of] oregano. And he will issue an order and have one of the birds slaughtered over fresh water in an earthenware vessel. He will take the live bird and the cedar wood and the red stuff and the oregano, and dip them, along with the live bird, in the blood of the bird that was slaughtered over the fresh water. Then he will sprinkle it over the mitaheir from the tzara-at seven times, and he will become tahor; and he will send free the living bird over the open field. (Leviticus 14:3-7)

mitaheir (מִטַּהֵר) = one becoming tahor (i.e. not tamei).

After the priest has used the oregano branch to sprinkle the bloody water, the person who has recovered from tzara-at must become literally clean.

Then the mitaheir will scrub his clothes and shave off all his hair and wash in water; and he will be tahor. Afterward he may enter the camp, but he must live outside his tent for seven days. (Leviticus 14:8)

At this point, the mitaheir is no longer socially unacceptable, and can live inside the camp. But further ritual is required before the mitaheir can resume all of normal life. The clothes-scrubbing, shaving, and washing must be repeated on the seventh day. On the eighth day the person comes to the entrance of the sanctuary with various offerings, and the priest conducts the final ritual, which includes daubing first lamb’s blood, and then oil, on the person’s right ear, right thumb, and right big toe.⁶

And the priest reconciles the mitaheir with God. (Leviticus 14:31)

Tamei walls

The middle section of Metzora provides instructions on what to do if the walls of a house are tamei. If the owner of the house observes green or red stains in a wall,

…he must come and tell the priest, saying: “Something like a mark has appeared in the house.” (Leviticus 14:34-35)

The owner of the house is not allowed to make the diagnosis; that is the priest’s job. (For a literal and a metaphorical description of what the priest does, see my post: Metzora: A Diseased Family.)

When the priest considers the house mold-free and tahor, he conducts a ritual using the same materials as in the first ritual for a person who has healed from tzara-at.

Then he will take, to make amends for the house, two birds, and cedar wood, and red stuff, and [a branch of] oregano. (Leviticus 14:49)

The priest follows the same procedure, this time sprinkling the bloody water seven times on the house, instead of on a person. But no further waiting period or ritual is required. The passage concludes:

And he has made reconciliation for the house; and it is tahor. (Leviticus 14:53)

Tamei discharges

The third section of this week’s Torah portion deals with tumah because of genital discharges: gonorrhea or semen from a man, blood from a woman. The gonorrhea calls for the most extensive response.

Any bed that the discharger lies upon is tamei. And anyone who touches his bed must scrub his clothes and wash in water, and will be tamei until evening. (Leviticus 15:4-5)

The same goes for anyone whom the afflicted man spits on, who touches him, or who sits where he sat. The contaminating effect even applies to some dishes.

And any earthenware vessel that the discharger touches must be shattered, and any wooden implement must be rinsed in water. (Leviticus 15:12)

Seven days after the man has recovered, he scrubs his clothes and washes himself in fresh water. Then he is tahor, but he must bring two birds to a priest on the eighth day. The priest sacrifices both birds at the altar.

And the priest reconciles him with God for his discharge. (Leviticus 15:15)

Semen is a less serious source of tumah. The man only has to wash himself and anything the semen falls on, and he will become tahor at sunset. The same goes for a couple having intercourse.

A woman is tamei during her menstrual period for at least seven days, more if she bleeds longer than seven days. Anything she lies on or sits on is tamei, and anyone who touches these things must bathe and wash their clothes; then they become tahor at sunset.

And if a man actually lies with her, then her menstruation is upon him, and he will be tamei seven days, and any bed he lies on will be tamei. (Leviticus 15:24)

If a woman has a discharge of blood when it is not her period, then the same rules apply as for a man with gonorrhea, including the priest sacrificing two birds to reconcile her with God once it is over and she is tahor again.

The passage in this week’s Torah portion about a woman’s discharge of blood does not mention bathing to become tahor again, even though bathing is required for a man who had a discharge and for anyone who recovered from tzara-at. But by the time the Talmud tractate Niddah was written (circa 500 C.E.) the rabbis had already established that a woman must immerse herself completely in the water of a mikveh after her period. They argued about the number of days the woman had to allow after she stopped bleeding, and other details. Traditional observant Jewish women today still submerge in a mikveh after their periods.

The Torah portion Metzora concludes as God tells Moses:

And you will separate the Israelites from their tumah, so they will not die from their tumah by their making tamei my sanctuary that is in their midst. (Leviticus 15:31)

All the rules about not touching anything tamei, and taking the ritual steps to undo the tumah, prevent God’s sanctuary itself from becoming tamei. A contaminated sanctuary would be a disaster, according to ancient Israelite thinking.

Perhaps it is because the idea of tumah in the sanctuary is so awful that a person who has become tahor again after the most serious cases of tumah must be reconciled with God. The Hebrew word I translate here as “reconciled” is kiper (כִּפֶּר), which is often translated as “atoned” when the purpose of the ritual is to make amends for a sin against God. Being tamei is not a sin, yet a tamei person is unfit to stand before God.

And the worship of God must be free of anything remotely icky. Our thoughts and feelings matter.

Tzara-at was formerly translated as “leprosy”, but it is unrelated to the disease once called leprosy and now called Hansen’s disease. The instructions for diagnosing tzara-at in Leviticus 13:1-44 (in last week’s portion, Tazria) describe several separate skin conditions that cause changes in skin color and texture and the appearance of the hairs growing in the affected skin.
Leviticus 11:1-23.
Leviticus 11:24-40.
The biblical book with the second highest frequency of words from the root tamei is Numbers, with 48. Third is Ezekiel, with 34, and fourth is Deuteronomy, with 10.
The book of Ezekiel probably has frequent references to being tamei because the prophet Ezekiel belonged to a family of priests (kohanim), and would have served as a priest before he was exiled to Babylonia.
More of this ritual is described in my post: Metzora: Time to Learn, Part 2.

Tazria: Mold or Mood?

A woman is ritually impure (tamei)¹ after giving birth, and must stay away from anything holy for 40 days (for a boy) or 90 days (for a girl). Anyone with a certain skin condition is ritually impure, and must live outside the camp or town. If mold appears in cloth or leather and cannot be washed out, it is ritually impure, and must be burned.

This week’s Torah portion, Tazria (Leviticus 12:1-13:59) devotes 67 verses to these three situations—and next week’s portion continues the instructions. But do rules about ritual purity from about 2,500 years ago have any relevance in today’s world?

The biblical laws about keeping kosher, which appear in last week’s Torah portion, Shemini, are still observed by many Jews. And a few other ritual purity laws are followed by observant orthodox Jews—for example, the rule that a married woman must submerse in the water of a mikveh after her menstrual period ends. Other purity laws have been impossible to observe since the fall of the second temple in Jerusalem in 70 C.E., when the descendants of priests were left with a few special honors, but no longer conducted sacrificial services or ritual purifications.

Nevertheless, the Torah’s instructions about how priests should diagnose ritually impure conditions and conduct purification rituals can still be interpreted in ways that might speak to us today.

In my post Tazria: Time to Learn, Part 1, I talk about the value of a delay in returning to social life after childbirth. In Tazria & 2 Kings: A Sign of Arrogance, I discuss the connection between skin disease and excessive pride.

And what about the third topic in the portion Tazria, moldy cloth and leather? This passage can also have an alternate meaning, depending on how we translate the Biblical Hebrew words in it that refer to both physical objects and psychological meatphors.

Infected garments—or depressed traitors

The instructions begin with this verse:

If the beged has a mark of tzara-at in it—in a beged of wool or in a beged of linen— (Leviticus 13:47)

beged (בֶּגֶד) = cloth garment—or betrayal. (Identical spelling. The noun beged meaning betrayal comes from the root verb bagad, בָּגַד = deceive, betray, break faith.)

tzara-at (צָרָעַת) = a skin condition characterized by white patches lower than the surrounding skin; patches of mold in cloth, leather, or walls. (A related word, tzira-ah, צִרְעָה = depression, discouragement. Its construct form would be tzira-at, צִרְעָת = depression of, discouragement of. The noun tzira-ah is closely related to tzara-at; a depression in one’s skin becomes a depression in one’s mood.)

What is the best translation of verse 13:47, given the alternative meanings of the words beged and tzara-at?

Most translators pick the meaning that makes sense if you read the passage as a straightforward description of an event, or as a set of instructions for carrying out laws or rituals. I usually do that myself. But sometimes the English word that expresses the most straightforward meaning does not give us any idea of the alternative, metaphorical meaning of the Hebrew word. Then something is lost in translation.

A straightforward translation of Leviticus 13:47 is:

If the garment has a mark of mold in it—in a garment of wool or in a garment of linen—

An alternative translation of Leviticus 13:47 is:

If the betrayal has the mark of depression in it—in a betrayal of wool or in a betrayal of linen—

Someone who betrays another person, God, or an ideal often feels depressed. But what is a betrayal of wool or linen?

In the Torah, wool is the fabric associated with the Israelites, who own flocks of sheep. Linen is an Egyptian import.² So with a small stretch, the translation of Leviticus 13:47 could become:

If the betrayal has the mark of depression in it—in a betrayal of Israelite ways or in a betrayal of Egyptian ways—

Weaving and leather—or drinking, mixing, and skin

If the next verse did not continue this line of thought, I would ditch the metaphorical translation and restrict myself the plain, straightforward one. But I have nothing interesting to say about the technical details of diagnosing mold in cloth. Fortunately, the next verse is:

—or in the shti or in the eirev of the linen or of the wool; or in or, or in any melekhet of or— (Leviticus 13:48)

shti (שְׁתִי) = warp (in weaving)—or drinking. (Identical spelling.)

eirev (עֵרֶב) = woof (in weaving)—or mixing.³ (Identical spelling.)

or (עוֹר) = leather, skin (including the skin of a living human being).

melekhet (מְלֶאכֶת) = craft, business, mission.

A straightforward translation of Leviticus 13:48 is:

—or in the warp or in the woof of the linen or of the wool; or in leather or in anything crafted of leather—

Here is an alternative translation of Leviticus 13:48 with the same interpretations of linen and wool I used for verse 13:47:

—or in drinking, or in the mixing of Egyptian and Israelite ways; or in skin or in any business of skin—

The Torah forbids mixing linen and wool,⁴ and biblical prophets warn Israelites against making alliances with Egypt or moving to Egypt.⁵ An example of mixing Egyptian and Israelite ways could be sex with a sibling, which was a permissible kind of marriage in Egypt, but an abomination in Israel.

The Hebrew Bible talks about three kinds of betrayal: telling lies (especially in court), breaking a vow, and deliberately violating God’s orders. What it does not mention is that if you betray a human being or God, you usually betray yourself as well, by failing to live up to your own standards. One result is likely to be depression. Traitors who feel depressed about their betrayals might indeed start drinking too much. And they might violate their own culture’s mores about sex or other aspects of life because they despair of being upright citizens.

But what about a “business of skin”? The first time the word or (עוֹר) appears in the Torah is when God clothes Adam and Eve in the skins of animals before sending them out of the garden of Eden.

Mosaic of Eden,
Cathedral Monreale, Sicily

And God, God made for Adam and for his woman fancy garments⁶ of skin, and [God] clothed them. (Genesis 3:21)

Most commentators conclude that God does not make leather garments for them, but rather gives them bodies covered with skin, like all mammals. Subsequent references to or as skin merely mention skin as opposed to muscle or bone—one more physical body part. Biblical writers and commentators assume it is our physical bodies that give us the most in common with other animals. So “business of skin” could mean “animal concerns” such as food and sex.

Putting verses 13:47 and 13:48 together could yield this slightly imaginative alternative translation:

If betrayal has the mark of depression in it—in betrayal of Israelite ways or in betrayal of Egyptian ways—or in drinking, or in the mixing of Egyptian and Israelite ways; or in animality, or in any animal concerns— (Leviticus 13:47-48)

Expert help

If you notice yourself, or someone you know, behaving like this, what should you do?

The next verse in the portion Tazria gives the first instruction: the mark of tzara-at must be shown to a priest.

And the priest will look at the mark, and isolate the mark seven days. (Leviticus 13:50)

It is easy enough to isolate a cloth garment, or something made of leather. It is harder to isolate a person, but this week’s Torah portion has already described how a priest isolates people who have the skin condition called tzara-at by requiring them to live outside the camp or town. They are considered unfit for society.

On the seventh day, the priest looks at the mark again. According to the plain, straightforward translation:

If the mark has spread in the garment, or in the warp or woof of the cloth, or in the leather or in anything that is made of leather, the mark is a harmful mold; it is ritually impure. (Leviticus 13:51)

According to a metaphorical translation:

If the mark has spread, the betrayal or the drinking or the mixing or the animal behavior, it is a hurtful depression; therefore it is “ritually impure”: a condition that requires strong action.

The action the priest must carry out is to burn up the article that has tzara-at in a fire. Moldy cloth or leather can certainly be burned. But how can one burn depression due to betrayal, and all the hurtful behavior it can cause?

If a modern expert in the role of the ancient priest, perhaps a psychologist, decides the betrayer’s depression is seriously hurtful, the expert might prescribe anti-depressants—but that is not enough to stop the damage. The depressed person also needs to “burn up” their old ways. With ongoing guidance, a traitor could make recompense to the one betrayed, a drinker could quit, a person operating only by animal instinct could become dedicated to rules of reasonable behavior.

The author of this part of the book of Leviticus was probably a Levite who simply wanted a written record of how priests and the general public should interact in specific undesirable situations, such as mold in cloth and leather.

Yet two major 12^th-century commentators who usually approached Torah from very different perspectives, Rambam (Rabbi Moses Maimonides) and Ramban (Rabbi Moses Nachmanides) agreed that tzara-at was actually a supernatural warning from God that a person was doing something evil. The problem had to be addressed with repentance and reform.

I suspect these traditional commentators were influenced by the alternative meanings of the words in this passage in Tzaria. Without the dual meanings, the psychology underneath the arcane ritual might get lost in translation.

Tamei (טָמֵא) = “ritually impure”, i.e. requiring correction through a purification ritual before the person, animal, or object can return to normal life or use.
Other fabrics available in the Ancient Near East circa 500 B.C.E. include those woven of camel hair or goat hair. Silk from China and cotton from India were not introduced until around 100 B.C.E.
The noun eirev, which often means “mixed race”, comes from the root verb arav, עָרַב = mix, mingle.
Leviticus 19:19 (banning any mixture of thread sources), Deuteronomy 22:11 (specifically banning cloth that combines wool and linen).
For example, Jeremiah 42:7-22 tells the Judahites to stay in their land even under Babylonian rule instead of fleeing to Egypt. Ezekiel 29:6-9 denounces an alliance between Egypt and Israel that failed.
Genesis 3:21 uses the word is katnot (כָּתְנוֹת) = long decorated garments, possibly tunics; not beged = any garment.

Haftarat Shemini—2 Samuel: Legacy

The obvious connection between this week’s Torah portion and haftarah reading is the message that God might strike dead even people who are doing God’s work, if they don’t get proper authorization for every action.

In the Torah portion, Shemini (Leviticus 9:1-11:47), two of Aaron’s sons who have just been consecrated as priests bring unauthorized incense into the sanctuary; God consumes their souls with fire.¹ (See my post Shemini: Fire Meets Fire.) In the accompanying haftarah reading from the prophets, 2 Samuel 6:1-7:17, King David is transporting the ark on an ox cart to Jerusalem. Uzza, one of the two ad-hoc priests walking beside it, puts his hand on the ark to steady it when the oxen stumble; God strikes him dead “over the irreverence”.² (See my post Shemini & 2 Samuel: Segregating the Holy.)

But Uzza’s death during King David’s first attempt to bring the ark to Jerusalem is not long enough for a haftarah portion. So the reading for this week continues with David’s second, successful transportation of the ark to his new capital. In this story, he dances in front of the ark wearing only a tabard called an eifod, and whenever he whirls his genitals are exposed. His wife Mikhal scolds him, but God apparently does not find David’s half-naked dancing irreverent; God punishes Mikhal with childlessness, but does nothing to David. (See my post Haftarat Shemini—2 Samuel: A Dangerous Spirit.)

The third story

A third story, which completes the haftarah, begins:

And it happened that the king was settled in his bayit, and God gave him rest from all the enemies around him. And the king said to Natan the Prophet: “See, please! I myself am dwelling in a bayit of cedar, and the ark of God is dwelling within the curtains [of a tent]!” (2 Samuel 7:1-2)

bayit (בַּיִת) = 1) house; any building where humans or a god reside at least part-time. 2) household; everyone who lives in the householder’s compound, including slaves as well as family members. 3) dynasty, lineage (like today’s House of Windsor).

Earlier in the haftarah, David brought the ark—considered God’s throne—into a tent he had pitched near his new cedar palace in Jerusalem.³ Now, when he says the ark is “dwelling within the curtains”, we learn that part of that tent is screened off from the main area with curtains, like the curtain that screened off the Holy of Holies in the portable tent sanctuary the Israelites built at Mount Sinai in the book of Exodus.

According to 11^th-century commentator Rashi,⁴ King David thinks it is time to fulfill one of Moses’ commands in Deuteronomy about building a temple:

And you will cross the Jordan and settle in the land that God, your God, is allotting as your possession, and you have rest for yourselves from all your enemies from all around, and you dwell in safety, then it will become the place where God, your God, chooses [God’s] name to inhabit. There you must bring all that I command you, your rising-offerings and your slaughter-offerings … (Deuteronomy 12:10-11)

But 21^st-century commentator Everett Fox wrote: “In the ancient Near East, such a desire would have been prompted not merely by piety; temples were political statements as well, symbolizing a god’s approval and protection of the regime.”⁵

King David’s motivations for building a temple could include a desire to welcome God at a higher level, a need to show everyone that Israel has its own powerful god, and a wish to leave a legacy in a world where he might lose the kingship like his predecessor, King Saul.

But David is foiled when the prophet Natan hears from God that night.

Nathan Tells David, by Jacob Backer, ca. 1633

And that night, the word of God happened to Natan, saying: “Go and say to my servant David: Thus said God: Are you my builder of a bayit for me to stay in?” (2 Samuel 7:4-5)

Midrash Tehillim⁶ adds to the biblical story by adding to what God said, claiming that God refused to let David build the temple because he had “shed much blood”. This is probably not a reference to all the Philistines David killed when he was an Israelite general, but rather to David’s killing and looting when he was the leader of an outlaw band and worked for a Philistine king.⁷

Midrash Tehillim also points out that Psalm 30 begins: “A psalm song of the dedication of the bayit for David”. Therefore, the midrash says, even though David did not build the temple, it was named after him—“to teach you that whoever intends to perform a commandment but is prevented from doing so, the Holy One, blessed be He, credits him as if he had performed it.”⁸

But God gives Natan a different explanation in this week’s haftarah:

“For I have not stayed in a bayit from the day I brought up the Israelites from Egypt until this day; but I have been moving about in a tent and in a sanctuary. Wherever I have been moving about among the Israelites, have I ever spoken a word with one of the leaders of Israel whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying: Why didn’t you build me a bayit of cedar?” (2 Samuel 7:6-7)

Once again God has asked a rhetorical question whose answer is “No”.

“Now you must say thus to my servant David: Thus said the God of Armies: I myself took you from the pasture, from following the flock, to become ruler over the people, over Israel.” (2 Samuel 7:8)

When Natan repeats this to David, it will serve as a reminder both of how far he has come, and of how God is in charge. Next God affirms that the people will remain safe from enemies in the land David has finished conquering. Then comes a promise to David:

“And God declares to you that God will make a bayit for you.” (2 Samuel 7:11)

King David has already built his own cedar palace. Now God is promising a different kind of bayit for him: a dynasty.

“When your days [of life] are filled, and you lie with your forefathers, then I will raise up your seed after you, one who issued from your innards, and firmly establish his kingship. He will build a bayit for my name, and I will establish the throne of his kingship forever.” (2 Samuel 7:12-13)

Reconstruction of Solomon’s temple,
Bible Museum, Amsterdam

David has not yet seen Batsheva at this time. But eventually David’s second child by Batsheva, Solomon, becomes the next king of Israel. Solomon does build a temple (bayit) dedicated God in Jerusalem.⁹ He is not as effective at building a dynasty (bayit) dedicated to God, and the northern half of his kingdom breaks away shortly after he dies. But kings from his line do rule Judah, the southern half of David and Solomon’s kingdom, until the Babylonian conquest over 200 years later.

Natan’s vision from God concludes with a reassurance that God will not replace David’s son with a new king, the way God replaced King Saul with David.

“I will be a father to him, and he will be a son to me. When he acts perversely, I will rebuke him with the rod of men and the affliction of humans. But my loyal kindness will not be removed from him as I removed it from Saul, whom I removed [to make room] for you. And your bayit and your kingship are confirmed forever before me; your throne will be established forever.” According to all these words and all this vision, thus Natan spoke to David. (2 Samuel 7:14-17)

In effect, God adopts David’s future son Solomon.

A qualification

What God does not say is that God’s promise to King David is contingent on the next king’s good behavior. In the first book of Kings, King Solomon completes the temple in Jerusalem and God fills it with a cloud of glory.¹⁰ Then Solomon makes a long speech to the assembled crowd, in which he says:

“And now, God of Israel, please let your word be confirmed that you promised to your servant David, my father.” (1 Kings 8:26)

Eight days later, after the people go home, God appears to King Solomon and says:

“And you, if you walk before me like your father David walked, with a whole heart and with uprightness, doing everything that I commanded you, keeping my decrees and my laws, then I will erect the throne of your kingship over Israel forever, as I spoke regarding your father David, saying: No one will cut you off from the throne of Israel. [But] if you actually turn away from me, you or your descendants, and do not keep my commands [and] decrees that I have set before you, and you go and serve other gods and bow down to them, then I will cut off Israel from the face of the soil that I gave them. And the bayit that I made holy to my name I will send away from my presence, and Israel will become a proverb and a taunt among all peoples.” (1 Kings 9:4-7)

Is the bayit that God made holy the temple? God hallowed it by filling it with the divine cloud of glory. But although God stay away from the temple, the physical building cannot be sent anwhere. A couple of centuries later, when the Babylonians loot and burn the temple,¹¹ 2 Kings and Jeremiah consider it a punishment for bad behavior.

What if the bayit that God made holy is the dynasty of King Solomon? Then the appearance of the cloud of glory shows that God has consecrated Solomon. And Solomon’s dynasty is “sent away from God’s presence” when the Babylonian army deports the last two kings of Judah, Jehoiachin and Zedekiah, to Babylon.

The yearning to leave a legacy, something that will last long after your death, is part of human nature. Parents hope their children’s children’s children will pass down their genes and their family history. Writers hope people will read their work after they are gone. Founders of businesses hope their companies will go on for decades without them.

The book of Ecclesiastes (Kohelet) notes:

The living know they will die. But the dead know nothing; they have no more reward, since even the memory of them is forgotten. Also their loves and their hates and their jealousies have already perished; and they have no share ever again in anything that is made under the sun. (Ecclesiastes 9:5-6)

King David does not get to build a bayit of cedar and stone to be God’s temple, but God consoles him with the promise that he will build a dynasty, a bayit of a royal line. But even that does not last forever.

Leviticus 10:1-5.
2 Samuel 6:3-7.
2 Samuel 6:17.
Rashi is the acronym of 11^th-century Rabbi Shlomoh Yitzchaki.
Everett Fox, The Early Prophets, Schocken Books, New York, 2014, p. 454.
Midrash Tehillim on Psalm 62, 11^th century.
See 1 Samuel 27:8-12.
Midrash Tehillim on Psalm 62. Translation from www.sefaria.org.
1 Kings 6:1-8:46.
1 Kings 8:10-11.
2 Kings 25:8-18.

Haftarat Tzav—Jeremiah: The Worst That Can Happen

It was a bad time to be God’s prophet.

Jeremiah first prophesied under King Josiah of Judah, who shared Jeremiah’s opposition to idolatry. Josiah cleared the idols out of the temple and tried to wipe out the worship of other gods in Judah.¹ But when the Egyptian army marched toward Assyria, Pharaoh Nekho II led his troops through the western edge of Judah. King Josiah attacked them at Megiddo, and was killed in battle.

The pharaoh appointed Josiah’s son Jehoiakim as the next king of Judah, and Jehoiakim began his 11-year reign as an obedient vassal of Egypt, sending regular tributes of silver and gold. Then in 605 BCE the new Babylonian empire won a major battle against the Egyptians at Carchemish, in the heart of the former Assyrian empire. King Jehoiakim switched his allegiance.

In his days, Nebuchadnezar, king of Babylon, came up, and Jehoiakim was his vassal for three years. Then he turned and rebelled against him. (2 Kings 24:1)

Rebelling against King Nebuchadnezar II was a big mistake. The Babylonian army conquered all of Judah except its capital, then laid siege to the walled city of Jerusalem in 599 BCE.

Jeremiah prophesied that God was not on Judah’s side any more, thanks to the bad behavior of its people, and therefore the king should surrender and send tribute to Babylon once more. King Jehoiakim was not amused. While Jerusalem was under siege, the king imprisoned Jeremiah and tried to assassinate him.

Two passages from Jeremiah compose the haftarah (the reading from the Prophets) accompanying this week’s Torah portion (Tzav in the book of Leviticus). In the first passage, Jeremiah 7:21-8:3, God warns the prophet about the worst that can happen if people do not obey God. The second passage, Jeremiah 9:22-23, ends this week’s reading on a happier note.

The worst

The haftarah begins with God complaining that the Israelites are still making the standard offerings (the ones required in the Torah portion Tzav), as if that were all they needed to do to please God.

Thus said the God of Armies, God of Israel: “Add your olot to your[other] slaughter-offerings and eat the meat! For I did not speak to your fathers and I did not command them at the time I brought them out from the land of Egypt about matters of olah and slaughter. For with this word I commanded them, saying: Heed my voice, and I will be your God and you will be my people. Walk on every path that I command you, so that it will go well for you.” (Jeremiah 7:21-23)

olah (עוֹלָה) = rising offering; an offering in which a slaughtered animal is completely burned up into smoke that rises up to the heavens. (Plural olot, עֺלוֹת.)

Ever since the exodus from Egypt, God continues, the people have refused to listen and obey—even though God keeps sending prophets who repeat the message. Then God tells Jeremiah:

“And you will speak all these words to them, but they will not listen to you. And you will call to them, but they will not respond.” (Jeremiah 7:27)

Burning a child for Molekh at Tofet,
Charles Foster Bible Pictures, 1897

Instead, God predicts, they will continue to set up idols in God’s temple, and they will continue to burn their own children at the shrine of Tofet in the Valley of Ben-hinom, just south of the temple mount in Jerusalem.

“Therefore, hey! The days are coming,” declares God, “when no one will say ‘the Tofet’ or ‘the Valley of Hinom’ any more, but rather ‘the Valley of the Mass Killing’. And they will bury at Tofet until there is no space left.” (Jeremiah 7:32)

Then, God says, it will get even worse. Since there will be too many corpses to bury, the bodies will be desecrated by wild animals. Furthermore, the people’s beloved land, already trampled by the Babylonian army, will become a wasteland.

“And the corpses of these people will be food for the birds of the sky and the beasts of the land, and there will be no one frightening them off. And I will make the sound of gladness and of rejoicing cease in the towns of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem, the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride. For the land will become a desolation.” (Jeremiah 7:33-34)

Yet even this is not enough. God is so fed up with the people of Judah that the dead will not be allowed to rest in peace.

“At that time,” declares God, “they will bring from out of their graves the bones of the kings of Judah, the bones of its officers, the bones of it priests, the bones of its prophets, and the bones of the inhabitants of Jerusalem. And they will be spread out under the sun and the moon … They will not be gathered and not reburied; they will become manure on the face of the earth.” (Jeremiah 8:1-2)

The earlier graves would be located outside the city, like the Valley of Hinom. Who would bother to ransack them? The 11^th-century commentator Rashi suggested the Babylonian invaders, called “Chaldeans” at the time.

“And the Chaldeans shall dwell, when they besiege the city, in the graves of the princes, that were as beautiful as palaces.” (Rashi)²

Or perhaps the invading army would desecrate graveyards in order to humiliate the Jerusalemites and move them to despair.

“Exposure of the dead was considered a great dishonor and desecration throughout the ancient world.” (Etz Chayim)³

The horrifying prophecy concludes:

“And death will be more desirable than life for all the remaining remainders of this wicked clan, in all the remaining places where I will drive them,” declares the God of Armies. (Jeremiah 8:3)

Vindictive or kind?

This passage and many others in the book of Jeremiah make God sound like a vindictive ruler with an anger management problem. The message could be summarized: If any of you disobey me, you’ll all wish you’d never been born!

On the other hand, the God of Jeremiah asks the Judahites not only to refrain from worshiping other gods, but also to behave decently to one another. Before the haftarah reading, Jeremiah reports that what God wants the most is for people to eschew injustice; oppression of strangers, orphans, and widows; and shedding the blood of the innocent.⁴

After the first passage in this week’s reading, God continues to rant about how wicked the people are and how devastating their punishment will be. But the rabbis who chose the haftarot over the centuries tried to end on a hopeful note. In the case of Haftarat Tzav, they appended a two-verse poem, the next positive passage in Jeremiah:

Thus said God:
Let not the wise one boast about his wisdom,
          And let not the strong one boast about his strength.
          Let not the rich one boast about his riches.
For only of this may a boaster boast:
          Of insight and acquaintance with me.
For I am God, doing kindness,
          Justice, and righteousness on earth.
          For in these I delight,
Declares God. (Jeremiah 9:22-23)

Communal versus individual justice

If God is kind and just, why does God let the Babylonian army kill so many people, including orphans, widows, and the innocent?

Throughout the Hebrew Bible, God treats people collectively. If enough of the population is at fault, God punishes everyone.

In the book of Jeremiah, the punishment is not the worst-case scenario of the first passage in this week’s haftarah. Later the book describes how the Babylonian army breaches the walls of Jerusalem and burns down the city and its temple. The people who have surrendered are put in fetters and marched off to exile in Babylon. A Babylonian official who knows about Jeremiah’s prophecies lets the prophet himself go free, and Jeremiah spends his final years with a group of Judahite refugees in Egypt.

Even if the outcome is not the worst that can happen, it is still personally devastating for a lot of innocent people. Why does God punish everyone in the community for the crimes of only some of its population?

Collective punishment is not perfect justice. If we think of God as a person who controls our fates, then we must protest, like Abraham:

“Far be it from you to do this thing, to bring death to the innocent along with the wicked, so the innocent and the wicked will fare alike! Far be it from you, the judge of all the earth, to not do justice!” (Genesis 18:25)

But collective punishment is a reality. When enough humans pollute the air, we all suffer from global climate change. When enough humans are inflamed by a demagogue, we all live in fear of terrorism and the seizure of the government. And when humans in power decide to make war, innocent people die.

2 Kings 22:3-23:16.
Rashi (Rabbi Shlomoh Yitzchaki), translated in www.sefaria.org.
Commentary edited by Chaim Potok, Etz Hayim, Rabbinical Assembly of the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism, 2001, p. 628.
Jeremiah 7:5-6.

Esther: Playing Vashti

Jews will celebrate the holiday of Purim this Saturday evening. The evening revolves around the megillah, the book of Esther, and we have a wild time with it. We come in costume, often cross-dressing for the night, and drinking is encouraged. When someone reads the megillah out loud, we make loud noises to drown out the name of Haman, the villain, whenever it comes up. Then the Ashkenazic tradition is to perform a purim spiel, a play based on the story in Esther, full of jokes and innuendos and often comic songs. Purim is the merriest holiday in the Jewish calendar.

The book of Esther itself is a fantasy tale revolving around four characters: Esther, a Jew who becomes the queen of Persia through a beauty contest; Achashveirosh, the foolish king of Persia; Haman, his villainous chief advisor who tries to exterminate all the Jews; and Mordecai, Esther’s wise uncle who replaces Haman as the king’s advisor at the end, after Esther gets the king to save the Jews.

Before the king can hold the beauty contest to choose his new queen, his old queen must be disposed of. So the first episode in the book of Esther, and every purim spiel, is the banishment or death of another character: Queen Vashti.

And there is more than one way to play Vashti.

The kings of Persia

And it happened in the days of Achashveirosh—he was the king from India to Ethiopia—127 provinces. In those days, as King Achashveirosh sat on his royal throne that was in the citadel of Shushan, in the third year of his reign, he made a drinking-feast for all his officials and powerful courtiers of Persia and Medea … (Esther 1:1-2)

The opening of the book sets a fictional tale in a historical reality. The empire of the Persians and Medes (the Achaemenid Empire) really did stretch from the border of Ethiopian in Africa to the border of India in the east at its height, during the reign of King Darius (522-485 B.C.E.). Cyrus (the founder of the empire), Darius, and his son Artaxerxes (Artachshasteh in Hebrew) all embraced a policy of religious tolerance, according to both history and parts of the books of Ezra and Nehemiah.¹

Nehemiah’s King Artaxerxes I, or Artachshasteh, is decisive, thoughtful, and thorough—the opposite of King Achashveirosh in the book of Esther.

The king who gets drunk

Achashveirosh is probably an alternate name for Artaxerxes/Artachshasteh—although unlike Artaxerxes, Achashveirosh is impulsive, vacillating, and stupid. (See my post Esther: Stupid Decisions.)

The book of Esther says that the king’s drinking-feast for the nobles and top officials of the empire lasts for 180 days, while he impresses them with the gorgeous and expensive splendors of his palace. Then King Achashveirosh invites all the men in the city of Shushan to a drinking-feast that lasts for 7 days, in the palace’s impressively bedecked and furnished courtyard. These commoners drink from golden goblets, as much wine as they like.

And the drinking was according to the rule: There is no constraint! Because this was what the king laid down over every steward of his household: to do according to the desire of each man. Also Vashti, the queen, made a drinking-feast for the women in the royal house of King Achashveirosh. On the seventh day, when the king’s heart was tov with wine, he said to … the seven eunuchs who waited on King Achashveirosh, to bring Queen Vashti before the king, in the royal crown, to let the people and the officials see her beauty—for she was tovah of appearance. (Esther 1:8-11)

tov (טוֹב), masculine, and tovah (טוֹבָה), feminine = good; joyful, desirable, usable, lovely, kind, virtuous.

King Achashveirosh’s mind is “joyful” with wine; Queen Vashti is lovely in appearance. The drunk king wants to show off his queen’s beauty.

After all, he has spent 187 days showing off the beautiful treasures of his palace. Perhaps, in his mentally hampered condition, it strikes him that the queen is the most beautiful treasure he owns.

But Esther Rabbah, written in the 12-13^th centuries, invents a backstory in which the men at the king’s drinking feast argued about which country had the most beautiful women. One man said that Median women were the prettiest, another that Persian women were. King Achashveirosh declared that his own wife, a Chaldean (i.e. Babylonian) was the most beautiful, and added:

“‘Do you wish to see it?’ They said to him: ‘Yes, provided that she be naked.’ He said to them: ‘Yes, and naked.’” (Esther Rabbah 3)²

Why would the king agree that his own wife should display herself naked? One 21^st-century analysis of Esther Rabbah explains: “In this view, Ahasuerus wishes to publicly establish his dominance over Vashti, by forcing the glaring contrast of “queen wearing a crown” and “subservient strumpet.” Such an aggressive act can be understood as stemming from the king’s insecurity, since she is royalty and he is not, for if it was only her beauty that he wished to show off, why was the royal crown necessary? … In other words, Ahasuerus wishes to express with this outlandish demand that Vashti may be royalty but her value to him is only in her beauty.”³

The queen who says no

Queen Vashti Refused,
by Gustave Dore, 1866
(The eunuchs have beards!)

But Queen Vashti refused to come at the word of the king delivered by the eunuchs. And the king became very angry, and rage was burning within him. (Esther 1:12)

The book of Esther does not say why Vashti refused. But commentators—and purim spielers—have been speculating for centuries.

Rabbis in the Talmud tractate Megillah, written circa 500 C.E., proposed that God suddenly disfigured her, with either a skin disease or a tail, so she was too embarrassed to show herself to men in public.³

In the 11th century, Rashi added that Vashti deserved the skin disease, citing another classic fiction: “Because she would force Jewish girls to disrobe and make them do work on Shabbos, it was decreed upon her to be stripped naked on Shabbos.”⁴

A century or two later, three rabbis are quoted in Esther Rabbah as suggesting that Vashti was willing to display herself to the men, but only if she were incognito, so she refused to wear her crown. “She sought to enter with only a sash, like a prostitute. But they would not let her.” (Esther Rabbah 3)

Another invention in Esther Rabbah is that Vashti tried to argue with the king before flat-out refusing to appear.

“She sent and said to him things that upset him. She said to him: ‘If they consider me beautiful, they will set their sights on taking advantage of me, and will kill you. If they consider me ugly, you will be demeaned because of me.’” (Esther Rabbah 3)

Vashti’s argument might influence a man who had the wits to think it over, but is useless on a man who is drunk. Then Esther Rabbah reports a second argument:

“She sent and said to him: ‘Weren’t you the stable-master of my father’s house, and you were accustomed to bringing naked prostitutes before you, and now that you have ascended to the throne, you have not abandoned your corruption.’” (Esther Rabbah 3)

It is hardly surprising that in this insult (also invented by the Talmud and Esther Rabbah) does not make King Achashveirosh change his mind, either.

In the 21^st century, Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz did not take a position on whether the king wanted his queen to appear clothed or naked. But he pointed out: “Her refusal to obey the command of the king, whose authority was absolutely unlimited, is indicative of her high status. She was unwilling to humiliate herself by parading her body before an audience.”⁵

In modern purim spiels, when Vashti says no, she often adds a remark about stupid men who treat women like objects and possessions.

Vashti’s fate

In the book of Esther itself, Vashti merely refuses to come, and no explanation is given. Achashveirosh is enraged—maybe because he did not get his way, but more likely to avoid recognizing that he was in the wrong. He asks his seven top advisors:

“According to law, what is to be done with the queen, Vashti, considering that she did not do the command of the king, Achashveirosh, delivered by the eunuchs?” (Esther 1:15)

In the real Persian Empire, the king’s advisors would gently point out these facts:

“Queens do not drink with their male subjects, and thus, in refusing, Vashti is preserving expected power dynamics and behaving as a queen should. And yet, when she insists on her right not to appear before commoners to titillate them, she loses her position.” (Gaines)⁶

And [his advisor] Memuchan said in front of the king and the officials: “Not against the king alone did Queen Vashti act, but against all the officials and all the peoples in all the provinces of King Achashveirosh. Because the news that goes out about the queen will make all wives treat their husbands with contempt, as they say: King Achashveirosh said to bring Queen Vashti to him, but she would not come.” (Esther 1:16-17)

Memukhan suggests a punishment that would make the women of the empire hesitate before disobeying their husbands.

“If it seems good to the king, let him issue a royal edict, and let it be written into the laws of Persia and Media, so it cannot be passed over, that Vashti must never come before the King Achashveirosh again. And let the king give her royal rank to someone who is hatovah than she.” (Esther 1:19)

hatovah (הַטּוֹבָ֥ה) = (noun) the good; (adjective) better. (A form of tov.)

Apparently there is no Persian law about punishing a queen who disobeys the king, no matter how outrageous the king’s request is. So Memukhan thinks of a reason why Vashti should be punished, and then makes up a punishment for her: losing her rank as queen, and losing her access to the king.

In the 11^th century, Rashi interpreted this punishment as requiring Vashti’s execution, so she would be incapable of coming before the king. A century or two later, Esther Rabbah concluded that Memukhan’s proposal in the book of Esther proves the Persian legal system was capricious and inferior to the Jewish legal system. Then it invented three personalreasons why Memukhan had a grudge against Vashti.

But in the book of Esther, we never find out what happens to Vashti. The other six advisors of the king agree with Memuchan, and Achashveirosh, true to form, issues the edict without giving it any thought. Esther Rabbah, elaborating on Rashi’s opinion, adds: “He issued the decree and brought in her head on a platter.”

A 21^st-century commentary follows the book of Esther more literally: “Presumably, the text means to communicate that she lived on in the harem—a king’s consort is never afterward free to marry another—but was never allowed to see the king.”⁷

To make Memukhan’s ad hoc law universal,

He sent scrolls to all the provinces of the king, to each province in its own script and to each people in its own language, that every man should rule his household, speaking the language of his own people. (Esther 1:22)

Rashi explained: “He can compel his wife to learn his language if her native tongue is different.”⁴

And the Talmud noted that the pettiness of this law turned out to be a good thing: “Since these first letters were the subject of ridicule, people didn’t take the king seriously and did not immediately act upon the directive of the later letters, calling for the Jewish people’s destruction.”³

Esther Rabbah commented on this verse without resorting to fantasy: “Rav Huna said: Aḥashverosh had a warped sensibility. The way of the world is that if a man wishes to eat lentils and his wife wishes to eat peas, can he compel her? No, she will do whatever she wants.”

A replacement queen

After these events, as the rage of King Achashveirosh subsided, he remembered Vashti and what she had done and what had been decreed against her. And the king’s young servants who waited on him said: “They can seek out for the king young virgins of tovot appearance.” (Esther 2:1-2)

tovot (טוֹב֥וֹת) = good, lovely. (Feminine plural of tov.)

In other words, the foolish king remembers his beautiful queen, whom he will never see again, and he feels sad. But his servants remember Memukhan’s advice that Achashveirosh should find another, better queen.

The beauty contest begins. And so does Esther’s story, as she is taken to be a contestant, has her trial night with the king, and wins the queenship.

I want to write a purim spiel in which Esther, waiting in the king’s harem until she is called, meets Vashti, the imprisoned former queen. Vashti would tell Esther all about her last night as queen. Then the two women would suggest increasingly outrageous methods for dealing with a clueless sexist pig. If only I could find the right comic song to go with the dialogue …

Ezra 1:1-11, 5:5-6:12, and 7:11-26 (but not 4:6-24); Nehemiah 2:1-9 and 5:14.
Translations of Esther Rabbah are based on The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022, www.sefaria.org.
Talmud Bavli, Megillah 12b.
Rashi (Rabbi Shlomoh Yitzchaki), translation in www.sefaria.org.
Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, Introductions to Tanakh: Esther, reprinted in www.sefaria.org.
Dr. Jason M.H. Gaines, “But Vashti Refused: Consent and Agency in the Book of Esther”, www.thetorah.com/article/but-queen-vashti-refused-consent-and-agency-in-the-book-of-esther.
Dr. Malka Z. Simkovitch, Dr. Rabbi Zev Farber, Rabbi David D. Steinberg, “Ahasuerus and Vashti: The Story Megillat Esther Does Not Tell You”, https://www.thetorah.com/article/ahasuerus-and-vashti-the-story-megillat-esther-does-not-tell-you.

Haftarat Pekudei—1 Kings: A Mystery in Bronze

Ta-da! A new place to worship God, and a new dwelling for God to inhabit!

Moses makes the ta-da moment happen when he assembles the first tent sanctuary and all its appurtenances in this week’s Torah portion, Pekudei (Exodus 38:21-40:38). King Solomon completes the first Israelite temple in Jerusalem¹ in this week’s hafatarah (accompanying reading) in the Sefardic tradition, 1 Kings 7:40-50.

Although both the tent sanctuary and the temple use the same basic equipment for worship—ark, menorah, bread table, incense altar, wash basin, altar for burning offerings—the scale and the architecture are different. (See my post Haftarat Pekudei—1 Kings: More, Bigger, Better.) One outstanding difference is the entrance.

Grand entrance

The entrance of the sanctuary tent is framed in acacia wood. Instead of a door, there is a curtain embroidered with blue, purple, and crimson yarns.²

The entrance to the main hall of King Solomon’s temple has olive-wood doorposts and double doors of carved cypress wood covered with gold.³ But the most striking feature is the pair of gigantic bronze columns that Chiram casts and erects in front.

This is not King Chiram of the Phoenician city of Tyre, who provides Solomon with cedar and cypress wood for the temple. The Chiram who casts all the bronze is the son of an Israelite woman from the tribe of Naftali and a Tyrean bronzeworker.⁴

Model of First Temple,
Bible Museum, Amsterdam
(with capitals that look like single
giant pomegranates)

And Chiram finished doing all the work that he did for King Solomon on the House of God: two amudim, and the globes of the capitals on top of the two amudim, and the two networks to cover the two globes of the capital on top of the amudim, and the four hundred pomegranates for the two networks—two rows of pomegranates for each network to cover the two globes of the capitals that were on the amudim. (1 Kings 7:40-42)

And all these things that Chiram made for King Solomon for the House of God were burnished bronze. (1 Kings 7:46)

amudim (עַמּוּדִים) = columns, pillars, posts, upright poles. (Singular amud, עַמּוּד, from the root verb amad, עָמַד = stood.)

Capital, capital

The Hebrew Bible is not averse to repetition. Shortly before this passage, the first book of Kings describes the impressive columns and their capitals in even more detail:

And he made two capitals to put on top of the amudim, cast in bronze. The one capital was five cubits high, and the second capital was five cubits high. [He made] networks of wreathes of chainwork for the capitals that were on top of the amudim, seven for one amud and seven for the second. And he made the pomegranates, with two rows encircling the network, to cover the capital on top of the first amud, and the same for the second one. (1 Kings 7:16-18)

In other words, the capitals of the columns are globes completely covered with a bronze decorative network in a pattern of chains and pomegranates. Each capital has seven chains and two rows of pomegranates.

The next verse in 1 Kings describes shorter capitals with a different kind of decoration.

And the capitals that were on top of the amudim in the portico were in a lily pattern, four cubits. (Exodus 7:19)

A four-cubit capital in a lily pattern (the design craved into the capitals of smaller stone columns archaeologists have found in Jerusalem) is quite different from a five-cubit capital covered with a network of chains and pomegranates. And the portico would require a number of columns to support its roof, since it extends across the entire front of the main hall, 20 cubits (30 feet), and it is 10 cubits (15 feet) deep.⁵

Is this verse an aside about stone columns of the portico, which are quite different from the two bronze columns Chiram makes? Or does each bronze column have not one, but two capitals stacked one above the other—one in a lily pattern and one a globe covered with chains and pomegranates?

Lost in translation

The next verse should give us a clue, but it is unusually difficult to translate. Since the syntax of Biblical Hebrew is different from the syntax of English, all translations have to rearrange the word order to make the English intelligible. In 1 Kings 7:20, it is hard to know where to place the word for “also”. And although it is a standard move to change “the capital the second” into “the second capital”, what that phrase refers to is ambiguous.

It does not help that two of the Hebrew words in 1 Kings 7:20 that indicate location, milumat and le-eiver, have multiple valid translations.

Here is the verse with the words translated literally and not rearranged at all:

And capitals upon two the amudim also above milumat the belly that le-eiver the network and the pomegranates 200 rows around on the capital the second. (1 Kings 7:20)

milumat (מִלְּעֻמַת) = near, side by side with, alongside of, parallel with, corresponding to, close beside.

le-eiver (לְעֵבֶר) = to one side, across, over against.

Here is the standard 1999 Jewish Publication Society (JPS) translation:⁶

So also the capitals upon the two columns [amudim] extended above and next to [milumat] the bulge that was beside [le-eiver] the network. There were 200 pomegranates in rows around the top of the second capital (i.e., each of the two capitals). (1 Kings 7:20)

This translation moves “also” to the beginning of the verse, making it imply “and another thing I want to say is”. It sounds as though the capitals are simultaneously above, and next to, and beside the network on the capitals, which is hard to imagine. And a JPS footnote claims that “the second capital” means “each of the two capitals”, as if the translators could not think of any other explanation for the final phrase.

Here is a 2013 translation by Robert Alter,⁷ who is generally more literal than the JPS and usually provides clear translations:

And the capitals on the two pillars [amudim] above as well, opposite [milumat] the curve that was over against [le-eiver] the net, and the pomegranates were in two hundred rows around on the second capital. (1 Kings 7:20)

Alter translates the Hebrew word gam (גַּם) as “as well” instead of “also”, but it still means little in that location in the sentence. And what does the word “above” mean when it comes before “as well”? The location of the capitals in relation to the bulge or curve (literally “belly”) is phrased differently, but still obscure. Where is this curve, and what is it connected to? Furthermore, Alter’s translation sounds as though the pomegranates were in two hundred rows on the second capital, but not the first. Yet the earlier description of the two pomegranate capitals had two rows of pomegranates on each one.

Here is a 2014 translation by Everett Fox,⁸ who is generally even more literal than Robert Alter:

And the capitals on the two columns were also above, close to [milumat] the bulging-section that was across from [le-eiver] the netting, and the pomegranates were two hundred in rows, all around the second capital. (I Kings 7:20)

Fox’s placement of the word “also” implies that the same two columns also have capitals above the previously-mentioned lily capitals. Presumably these upper capitals are the ones decorated with pomegranates. If so, the phrase “the second capital” is no longer puzzling; it refers not to the capital on the second column, but to the second capital on the same column. But “close to the bulging-section that was across from the netting” remains hard to visualize.

Taking some tips from Fox, here is my best effort at an English translation:

And the capitals on the two columns were also above, next to the rounded molding that was on one side of the network. And two hundred pomegranates were in rows all around the top of the second capital. (Exodus 7: 20)

And here is my explanation:

Each bronze column has two capitals. At the top of each column is a four-cubit capital with a lily design. On top of the lily capital is a rounded molding referred to as a belly. And on top of the molding is a second capital, a five-cubit capital in the form of a globe covered with a network of chains and pomegranates.

In the next verse, Chiram names the two bronze capitals. Immediately after that, the text says:

And up on top of the amudim was a lily design. And the work of the amudim was completed. (1 Kings 7:22)

This confirms that the lily capitals are part of the two gigantic bronze columns, not part of separate stone columns.

Why would anyone stack two capitals on top of a column? For the same reason the Ancient Greeks invented the Corinthian capital, which essential takes an Ionic capital and inserts two ranks of acanthus leaves in between the astragal molding at the bottom and the scrolled volutes at the top, and throws in a few acanthus flowers for good measure. Anything ornamental can be made even more ornamental.

In the case of the capitals on the bronze columns, Chiram began with the six-petalled lily that “served as the symbol of the Israelite monarchy during certain periods”⁹ Then he added the globes covered with bronze chains and hundreds of pomegranates, an unusual and showy design. A bronze artist that skilled could hardly resist showing off.

Chiram the bronzeworker and Solomon the king are well-matched. Every detail of the new temple is designed to look as impressive as possible. Solomon even has the stone walls of the main hall covered with cedar which is carved and then gilded.

His father, King David, fought for the kingdom of Israel and ruled from Jerusalem, but still used a tent as God’s sanctuary. King Solomon inherited his kingdom. He concentrated on building up commerce and wealth, acquiring even more wives and concubines than his father, and building an elaborate palace for himself and temple for God.

Why not erect two gigantic bronze columns in front of the temple, with ornamentation that goes over the top?

The Jebusites who occupied Jerusalem before King David conquered part of it probably had their own shrine. Genesis 14:17-20 mentions a Jebusite priest-king named Malki-tzedek who blesses Abraham.
Exodus 26:36.
1 Kings 6:33-35.
1 Kings 7:13.
1 Kings 6:2-3.
JPS Hebrew-English Tanakh, The Jewish Publication Society, Philadelphia, 1999, p. 724.
Robert Alter, Ancient Israel: The Former Prophets, W.W. Norton & Company, New York, 2013, p. 638
Everett Fox, The Early Prophets, Schocken Books, New York, 2014, p. 602.
Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, Introductions to Tanakh: Prophets, on 1 Kings 7:19, reprinted in www.sefaria.org.

Vayakheil: Shadow Creator

The first time Moses spends 40 days and 40 nights on the summit of Mount Sinai, God tells him everything the Israelites should make to create a portable sanctuary for God and vestments for God’s new priests. Moses also learns who should supervise the craftsmanship.

And God spoke to Moses, saying: “See, I have called by name Betzaleil son of Uri son of Chur of the tribe of Yehudah. And I have filled him with the spirit of God in wisdom and in insight and in knowledge, and in every craft.” (Exodus/Shemot 31:1-3)

Betzaleil (בְּצַלְאֵל) = In the shadow of God. (Be-, בְּ = in, at, by, with + tzeil,צֵל = shadow, shade + eil, אֵל = God, a god.)

When Moses comes back down from the mountaintop in last week’s Torah portion, Ki Tisa, he has to deal with the Golden Calf. Then he returns to the summit for another 40 days. This time he learns more about God’s character and gets replacement stone tablets.¹ After he comes back down from this second stint, he finally gets to communicate God’s instructions for the sanctuary and the priests’ vestments to the people in this week’s Torah portion, Vayakheil (Exodus 35:1-38:20).

Moses calls for donations of the materials, and for artisans who are skilled in woodworking, metalworking, weaving, and jewelry-making. The donations pour in, and plenty of male and female artisans volunteer to do the work. Before they begin, Moses appoints the supervisor and master craftsman that God had named.

And Moses said to the Israelites: “See, God has called by name Betzaleil son of Uri son of Chur of the tribe of Yehudah, and has filled him with the spirit of God in wisdom, in insight, and in knowledge, and in every craft—to invent designs to make in gold and in silver and in copper; and in preparing stones for setting and in preparing wood for making; and in every craft of designing. And to give instructions …” (Exodus 35:30-34)

Both God and Moses begin talking about Betzaleil by using the imperative “See!” Everyone can see that Betzaleil is an inspired artist and designer, so it is easy to believe God has singled him out or “called him by name”.

And his name is appropriate for his mission. The name Betzaleil means “In the shadow of God”, but what does it mean to be, or to create, in God’s shadow?

Shadows in English and Hebrew

The Hebrew word tzeil (and its variant tzeilel, צֵלֶל) and the English word “shadow” have the same literal meaning: the dark area cast on a surface by an object between a light source (such as the sun) and that surface. Tzeil can also mean “shade”, which is another description of shadow in English

But when these words are used metaphorically, they have a different sense in English than in Biblical Hebrew. A shadow is usually attached to the spot where the person or thing that casts it touches the ground. (Shadows of birds and other airborne objects are the exception.) So in English, shadowing a person is following their every move.

In English, a shadow is also less noticeable or less significant than the person casting it. Being in someone’s shadow means going unnoticed. The shadow side of a person or institution is the unacknowledged, unconscious, or repressed side. People who have lost status, size, or ability are called shadows of their former selves.

In the Hebrew Bible, the word tzeil or tzeilel appears 51 times. It is used literally 17 times, as a metaphor for concealment and refuge 7 times (perhaps because it is harder to spot someone in dark shade), and as a metaphor for time stretching out like a shadow 3 times.

The word is also used in two ways that relate to Betzaleil’s name: 19 times as a metaphor for protection, and 5 times as a metaphor for transience.

Shade as protection

Those of us who live in more moderate climates might not think of shade or a shadow as protection, but in the deserts of the Ancient Near East shade meant protection from the burning sun and the risk of dehydration.

The first time tzeil appears is in Genesis, when Lot begs the men of Sodom not to sexually molest his two visitors:

“Hey, please, I have two daughters who have not known a man. Please let me bring them out to you, and you may do to them whatever is good in your eyes. Only don’t do a thing to these men, because they came into the tzeil of my roof!” (Genesis 19:8)

Here “the tzeil of my roof”, literally “the shade of my roof”, really means “under my protection”. Once Lot has offered the visitors the hospitality of his house, he feels honor-bound to protect them from the mob as long as they stay with him.

The word tzeil also indicates protection by a king, government, city, or nation. And it is used for protection by God. For example:

          God is your guardian;
          God is your tzeil at your right hand. (Psalm 121:5)

Since Betzaleil is “in the shadow of God”, God protects and shelters him. His inspiration for designing all the holy objects and his ability to instruct others come from the spirit of God, and therefore everything will come out right.

Shadow as transience

When the Hebrew Bible comments on the brevity of human life, it often compares humans with grass that sprouts up and then withers. But comparing humans with shadows is even more telling, since shadows outside vanish daily at nightfall, and shadows inside disappear into darkness the moment a lamp is snuffed out. Here is one example:

          A human, like a puff of air, comes to an end;
          His days, like a tzeil, pass by. (Psalm 144:4)

Since Betzaleil is human, his life is very short compared to God’s. By extension, Betzeleil’s creations, however beautiful and holy, are mere passing shadows compared to God’s creations.

Shadows and images

A literal shadow is like a silhouette; you see the outline of the original, but none of the details or colors. Similarly, the Hebrew word tzelem, which usually means image but can also mean “shadow”, has less reality than the original object. The word tzelem may well be related to the word tzeil. It appears in the first account of God’s creation of the universe:

And God said: Let us make humankind betzalmeinu, in our likeness, and they will rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the beasts, and over all the land, and over all creepers that creep on the land. (Genesis 1:26)

betzalmeinu (בְּצַלְמֵנוּ) = in our image. (Be-, בְּ = in, at, by, with + tzelem, צֶלֶם, = image, model, statute, shadow, something shadowy (without substance) + einu, ֵנוּ = our.)

One of the ways humans are shadows or images of God is that we have secondary creative powers. We cannot create a universe, but we can recombine existing elements to create new things within our universe. We cannot create life, but we can create beauty. When we humans are at our best, when we are inspired to create, like Betzaleil, we imitate or shadow the divine.

The entire work of art that served as the portable sanctuary, expanded later into the temple, inspired the children of Israel to keep returning to their God over the centuries. It kept their religion alive until it could metamorphose and survive without a temple.

We humans have more creative power than we think, for good and for ill. May we use it wisely.

See my post Vayakheil & Ki Tisa: Second Chance.

Ki Tisa & Mishpatim: Shattered

Moses and the Tablets
(strangely fused),
by James Tissot, ca. 1900

At the foot of Mount Sinai, the Israelites are worshiping the Golden Calf; at the summit, God is giving Moses a pair of stone tablets. It is a fateful day in this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tisa (Exodus 30:11-34:35).

Then [God] gave to Moses, once [God] finished speaking with him on Mount Sinai, the two tablets of the eidut, tablets of stone written by the finger of God. (Exodus 31:15)

eidut (עֵדֻת) = affidavit, pronouncement, testimony.

Why does God give Moses two engraved stone tablets to carry down from Mount Sinai?

To provide a written record of the laws?

In an earlier Torah portion, Mishpatim, God tells Moses:

“Come up to me on the mountain and be there, and I will give you tablets of stone and the instruction and the command that I have written to instruct them.” (Exodus 24:12)

What instruction and command? The book of Exodus never says what God wrote on the tablets. But in the book of Deuteronomy, Moses recites the “Ten Commandments”, then says:

These words God spoke to your whole assembly at the mountain, from the midst of the fire, the cloud, and the fog, in a great voice; and did not add more. And [God] wrote them on two tablets of stone, and gave them to me. (Deuteronomy 5:19)

However, these tablets are not the only written record of the Ten Commandments. They first appear in the book of Exodus, during God’s revelation at Mount Sinai.¹ After the fireworks of the revelation are over, God adds 24 verses of rules for the people, from Exodus 20:19 in the Torah portion Yitro through Exodus 23:33 in the portion Mishpatim.

And Moses came and reported to the people all the words of God and all the laws, and all the people answered with one voice, and they said: “All the things that God has spoken, we will do!” And Moses wrote down all the words of God. (Exodus 24:3-4)

The next morning Moses sets up an altar, makes animal sacrifices, and splashes some of the blood on the altar.

Then he took the record of the covenant and he read it into the ears of the people, and they said: “All that God has spoken we will do and we will pay attention!” Then Moses took the blood and splashed it on the people, and said: “Hey! [This is] the blood of the covenant that God cut with you concerning all these words!” (Exodus 24:7-8)

So Moses writes a scroll containing the Ten Commandments and the many additional laws God communicated to him, and this scroll counts as a record of the covenant. The two stone tablets are not necessary for that purpose.

To test Moses?

The Torah portion Mishpatim ends with Moses climbing to the top of Mount Sinai alone. Moses spends forty days and forty nights in the cloud at the summit of Mount Sinai, listening to more instructions from God. This time the instructions are for making a portable tent-sanctuary, making vestments for priests, and ordaining the new priests.

Then God tells Moses that the people waiting at the foot of the mountain have made an idol.

Adoration of the Golden Calf, from Hortus deliciarum
of Herrad of Landsberg, 12th cent.

And God spoke to Moses: “Go down! Because your people whom you brought up from the land of Egypt have ruined [everything]! They have been quick to turn aside from the way that I commanded them. They made themselves a cast image of a calf, and they prostrated themselves to it and they made slaughter sacrifices to it, and they said ‘This is your god, Israel, who brought you up from the land of Egypt’!” (Exodus 32:8)

After delivering the awful news, God tests Moses by making him an offer he can refuse:

“And now leave me alone, and my anger will flare up against them and I will consume them; and I will make you into a great nation.” (Exodus 32:10)

I think the God is implying: “If you leave me alone, then my anger will flare up against them and I will consume them.” It is a backhanded invitation to speak up.

Why does God add that if God “consumes” the Israelites, then Moses’ descendants will become a great nation instead? I suspect it is a temptation that God hopes Moses will reject. Moses passes the test; he argues that it would be a bad idea to destroy the Israelites, and God immediately backs off.

However, I think this is only the first part of God’s test of Moses. The second part is more subtle. By giving Moses the two stone tablets, God is handing over the responsibility for the covenant—the one that the people have just violated by making a golden idol.² Since Moses wants the Israelites to become the people God will “make into a great nation”, let him address their flagrant violation of God’s law. God will stand by and watch what Moses does with the stone tablets.

Theoretically, Moses could leave the tablets at the top of Mount Sinai, go down and straighten out the Israelites, then fetch the tablets and present them to the people as a reward and confirmation that they are now on the right track. He rejects this option, probably because he knows he needs a strong visual aid to make the people pay attention to him.

He also needs to reinforce the idea that rewards and punishments come from God. Five times during the journey from Egypt to Mount Sinai, the Israelites blamed Moses for bringing them into the desert, and expected him, not God, to provide them with food and water.³ Each time Moses pointed out that God was the one in charge.

Moses Breaking the Tablets,
by Ephraim Moshe Lilien, 1808

So Moses carries God’s two stone tablets down the mountain.

And it happened as he came close to the camp, and he saw the calf and circle-dancing; then Moses’ anger flared up; and he threw the tablets down from his hand, and he shattered them under the mountain. (Exodus 32:19)

Moses already knows about the Golden Calf. What enrages him now is the sight of the people drinking, singing, and dancing—enjoying themselves, now that they finally have a god they can understand, a god that inhabits a gold statue.

This kind of idol was standard in Egypt. Moses has been trying to get his people to accept a god who manifests only as cloud and fire. He would be angry, but not surprised, that the Israelites feel happy and relieved now that they have an idol. (He does not know that his own brother, Aaron, confirmed that the God who brought them out of Egypt inhabits the Golden Calf.)⁴

I doubt Moses is so completely overcome by his anger that he hurls down the tablets without thinking. After all, he had enough presence of mind to argue with God when he was surprised and frightened by his first overwhelming encounter at the burning bush. Surely he has enough presence of mind now, in a situation he is partially prepared for, to make a deliberate decision to smash the stones.

He may even worry that they will bounce instead of shatter, and fail to achieve the effects he desires: demonstrating that the people broke their covenant with God, inducing guilt, and setting an example regarding idols.

Demonstrating that they broke the covenant

None of the literate Israelites have time to read what is carved on the stones before Moses smashes them. But Moses waits until he is close enough so everyone can see that he is holding two thin, smooth stone tablets with writing carved into them. The Israelites would conclude that God must have given him the tablets at the top of the mountain. In the Ancient Near East, as in the modern world, both parties to a covenant get a written copy. So they would also assume, correctly, that the tablets are related to the covenant they made with God 40 days before.

In other words, the people would know that the stones were “two tablets of the eidut”, of God’s affidavit, pronouncement, or testimony. According to 12^th-century commentator Ibn Ezra,

“He therefore broke the tablets which were in his hands and served, as it were, as a document of witness. Moses thus tore up the contract. As Scripture states, he did this in the sight of all of Israel.”⁵

Inducing guilt

The second effect Moses’ demonstration achieves is to make the Israelites realize they disobeyed God and did the wrong thing. According to 15^th-century commentator Abravanel,

“Had Israel not seen the Tablets intact, the awesome work of the Lord, they would not have been moved by the fragments, since the soul is more impressed by what it sees, than by what it hears. He therefore brought them down from the mountain to show them to the people, and then break them before their very eyes.”⁶

The Israelites, like most humans, have a stronger and more visceral response to what they see than to any words they hear. The first time in Exodus that the people trust God (at least temporarily) is when they see the Egyptian charioteers drown in the Reed Sea.⁷ That is also the first time they rejoice, singing and dancing. The next time they rejoice, again with dancing, is in front of the Golden Calf.

But when they see the stone tablets carved with some words from God, and then see Moses shatter them, they know in their guts that they were wrong.

Setting an example regarding idols

The third effect Moses achieves by smashing the stone tablets is to set an example regarding idols. An idol, in the Hebrew Bible, is a physical object that is treated like a god. The Golden Calf is an idol. But the two stone tablets also have the potential to become an idol. What if the Israelites are so desperate for a concrete god that they adopt the tablets in place of the calf? What if they prostrate themselves before the tablets, make sacrifices to the tablets, and carouse in front of the tablets with the same unchecked ecstasy?

21^st-century commentator Zornberg concluded:

“Moses, therefore, smashes the tablets, not in pique, but in a tragic realization that a people so hungry for absolute possession may make a fetish of the tablets as well.”⁸ When Moses hurls down the stone tablets, they do not bounce, like magical objects. They break, like slate tiles. The people see that the tablets are only stones. God does not inhabit them.

Change is hard. Human beings enjoy a little variety, but a change in employment or a change in address is hard to get used to even when it is an improvement. The Israelites were underdogs doing forced labor in Egypt. Now they have been changed into an independent people traveling toward a new home in Canaan. These changes alone require new habits of thought. But these people must also adopt a new religion.

The Israelites in Egypt still acknowledged the God of their ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But now their God is demanding an active—and exclusive—form of religion. Instead of obeying their Egyptian overseers, they must obey an invisible God who manifests sometimes as cloud and fire, but speaks only to Moses. They must follow this God’s rules and do whatever God says. They promise twice that they will do it. But the new covenant is hard to obey.

I have managed big changes in my own life through a combination of stubborn determination to do the right thing and harnessing as much rational thought as I can. But I have advantages the Israelites did not have. I suffered only minor childhood trauma, I have lived safely in the American middle class, and I have an analytical personality and brain.

I want to feel sympathy, not anger, toward people whose choices seem blatantly wrong to me. But what if someday there is a moment when I could jolt people out of their habits of thought by smashing a potential metaphorical idol? If it ever happens, I hope I will recognize it.

See my posts Yitro & Va-etchanan: Whose Words?, Part 1 and Part 2.
The prohibition against making any idols or images of a god appears not only in the “Ten Commandments”, but also in Exodus 20:20, at the beginning of God’s long list of rules following the revelation, the list Moses has written down and read out loud to the people twice.
Exodus 14:11-12, 15:22-24, 16:2-3, 16:6-8, 17:2-4.
Exodus 32:4-5.
Abraham ben Meir ibn Ezra, translation in www.sefaria.org.
Don Isaac ben Judah Abravanel, translated by Aryeh Newman, in Nehama Leibowitz, Studies in Shemot, Part II, Maor Wallach Press, 1996, p. 610.
Exodus 14:30-31, 15:19-21.
Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg, The Particulars of Rapture, Doubleday, New York, 2001, p. 424.