Zevachim, Daf 2
Our Gemara on amud aleph refers to a Tanna with an unusual descriptor added to his name: Shimon the brother of Azariah. Usually, people are identified by their father, not their brother. Rashi notes this and gives us the historical back story: Azariah, a businessman, supported his brother Shimon, a scholar. Because they were literally partners in Torah and finances, sharing both, Azariah merited the honor by association through his brother’s title.
This arrangement is known as Yissaschar-Zevulun based on the Midrashic model that these two tribes represented (see Rashi on Bereishis 49:13), with Zevulun engaging in commerce, enabled by being near the ports, and Yissaschar studying Torah. Yissaschar-Zevulun is different than kollel – it is a private business arrangement between two individuals based on common interests whereby they genuinely split the financial and spiritual rewards. The Rambam, who notoriously declared that taking charity in order to study Torah is a chillul Hashem (Talmud Torah 3:10), himself was a recipient of support from his brother who was a merchant (see Igeres HaRambam le–Rabbi Yefes Hadayyan). Apparently, Yissaschar-Zevulun was not considered by the Rambam to be diminishing the honor of Torah by taking charity, since this was a voluntary private arrangement.
The story of the Rambam and his brother is multifaceted, and it is not a legend – we know about it firsthand from his letters. In the above-mentioned letter, the Rambam describes with vulnerability and gut-wrenching honesty his grief and loss:
The most awful disaster that befell me in my life – worse than anything else – was the death of the holy one, may his memory be blessed, who drowned in the Indian Ocean.
On his voyages he brought much money and goods that supported me, himself, and others.
He left behind for me to take care of a widow and a young daughter.
On the day the dreadful news of his death reached me, I fell ill and was bedridden for about a year. I suffered from inflammation, high fever, and depression, and I nearly gave up my soul.
Eight years have passed since then, and I am still in mourning, unable to find solace. And how could I be comforted? For he grew up in my lap. He was my brother and my student. He traded in the markets, earned profits, and conducted business, allowing me to sit securely at home. He quickly grasped the Talmud and excelled even more in the intricacies of language. My only joy was in seeing him. All joy has become bitter, and he has gone to the eternal world, leaving me bewildered in a foreign land. When I see his handwriting or one of his letters, my heart turns over within me, and my sorrow is reawakened.
To sum it up: “For I will go down to my son, mourning, to the grave” (Genesis 37:35). Were it not for the Torah, which is my delight, and the words of wisdom that help me forget my sorrow, I would have perished in my affliction.
Subsequent to his brother’s death and the Rambam’s loss of financial support, aside from his intense grief, the Rambam was forced to work. It was during this time that he served as court physician for the Sultan. In his letter to Shmuel Ibn Tibbon, the Rambam graphically describes his daily schedule, expressing his anguish and exhaustion:
Between where I reside and where the king resides in Cairo, and between these two places are 4,000 amos (approximately 1.5 miles). I have a very heavy obligation toward the king, and it is impossible for me not to see him every day at the beginning of the day. However, if he is found to be weak or if one of his sons or concubines falls ill, I am not permitted to leave Cairo. I spend most of the day in the king’s palace, and it is also impossible for me to avoid attending to one or two officials who fall ill, as I must busy myself with their treatment.
Every single day I go up to Cairo at dawn, and if there is no obstacle there or no new development, I return to Egypt after midday – under no circumstances do I arrive earlier. I return famished and find the courtyards filled with people – Jews and Gentiles, important and unimportant, judges and officers, friends and enemies, a mixed multitude who know the time of my return.
I dismount from my animal, wash my hands, and go out to them to appease them, to satisfy them, and to entreat them to forgive me for keeping them waiting until I can eat a temporary meal, which takes some time. Then I go out to treat them, to write prescriptions and medical formulas for their ailments. Those coming and going do not cease until nightfall, and sometimes, by the truth of the Torah, until two hours into the night or more. I explain to them, advise them, and speak with them. I lie down exhausted from great fatigue, and when night comes, I am in a state of utter weakness and unable to speak.
In conclusion, no one from Israel can speak with me or spend time alone with me except on the Sabbath. Then, the entire community, or most of them, come after the prayer, and I guide the congregation regarding what they should do during the week. We read quietly (from Torah) until noon and then go their way. Some return and read again after the afternoon prayer until the time of the evening prayer.
When we imagine great people, especially one of the greatest rabbis and scholars of all time, we see their monumental accomplishments but have no idea about their personal struggles. We assume they met them with fortitude and stoicism. However, in these letters we hear not the voice of a detached philosopher nor a grand and dignified rabbinic leader, but of a human being who bares his soul regarding his suffering to his close colleagues. It is a lesson in what really happens to a person in life, no matter his personal beliefs and discipline. The Rambam speaks of being ill and depressed for a year. His greatness lies in what he accomplished despite this, and his courage to candidly share his feelings with close friends.
One final fascinating point. We know the Rambam’s final work, The Guide for the Perplexed, was written at the end of his life. As I have noted in other essays, he often inserts hints and secret messages about matters that he feels should not be discussed explicitly. Micah Goodman, in Maimonides and the Book that Changed Judaism, makes an amazing observation. Here is what the Rambam writes about man’s foolish pursuits:
The sufferings of the body in consequence of these evils are well known; those of the soul are twofold: First, such evils of the soul as are the necessary consequence of changes in the body, in so far as the soul is a force residing in the body; it has therefore been said that the properties of the soul depend on the condition of the body. Secondly, the soul, when accustomed to superfluous things, acquires a strong habit of desiring things which are neither necessary for the preservation of the individual nor for that of the species. This desire is without a limit, whilst things which are necessary are few in number and restricted within certain limits; but what is superfluous is without end – e.g., you desire to have your vessels of silver, but golden vessels are still better: others have even vessels of sapphire, or perhaps they can be made of emerald or rubies, or any other substance that could be suggested.
Those who are ignorant and perverse in their thought are constantly in trouble and pain, because they cannot get as much of superfluous things as a certain other person possesses. They as a rule expose themselves to great dangers, e.g., by sea-voyage, or service of kings, and all this for the purpose of obtaining that which is superfluous and not necessary. When they thus meet with the consequences of the course which they adopt, they complain of the decrees and judgments of G-d.
Goodman points out the Rambam is clearly hinting at his own suffering from his life – “sea-voyage, or service of kings,” indeed perhaps even a self-rebuke in the line “they complain of the decrees and judgments of G-d.”
We are left speechless regarding the Rambam’s emotional courage, self-honesty, and humility.
Power-Assisted Steering
Daf 4
Our Gemara on amud beis speaks of the responsibility and obligation to fulfill a pledge: “Once a person said: It is incumbent upon me to bring an offering, it is considered as though the offering is loaded upon his shoulders.”
The idea of a spiritual obligation being felt as a burden upon one’s shoulders is a real phenomenon, but according to Mei Shiloach (Bo) and Sod Yehar (Rosh Hashana 44), it also changes with time. Just as the Ark was carried on the shoulders of the Levites but miraculously carried itself, so too the burdens of mitzvos are hard at first, but then if you are sincere, G-d joins you and helps you carry the burden.
As it states, G-d says, “Open for me an opening the width of the point of a needle, and I will open it wide enough for wagons to pass through.” (Midrash Shir HaShirim 5:22). Once we put in the initial effort, we are not alone in carrying the burden.
Spiritual BOGO: Buy One Atonement, Get One Free
Daf 5
Our Gemara on amud beis notes that unlike a Chattas sacrifice, which is for one specific sin, an Olah sacrifice can bring atonement for a number of sins simultaneously.
The idea that certain atonements can be bundled while others must be performed separately is discussed by the Baal HaTanya (Iggeres HaTeshuvah III:3). In prior times, when people had greater spiritual fortitude and physical stamina, they followed the practice of teshuvas ha-mishkal, which was a tradition of a set number of fasts and other forms of self-flagellation to atone for specific sins. Each sin had its own formula and number of fasts.
The Baal HaTanya considers whether one set of fasts can atone for multiple commissions or the same sin. He says some compare this to the Chattas sacrifice, which can only atone for one sin at a time; if so, each sin requires its own set of fasts and privations. Others compare it to the Olah sacrifice, and therefore one can do the same teshuvas ha-mishkal for several sins.
The conceptual difference between a Chattas sacrifice and an Olah sacrifice is that the Chattas is a specific obligation incurred for a specific sin. It is a direct atonement and cleansing ritual. On the other hand, the Olah sacrifice is more of an all-purpose attempt at re-establishing closeness to G-d, and therefore is used as an atonement for any number of general sins and lapses. The Gemara (7b) compares an Olah sacrifice to a gift that one might send in advance to a king with whom he has fallen out of favor. It is not a specific restitution but rather an appeasement.
This is similar to the idea that tzedakah can soften or nullify a heavenly decree for punishment, as we say in the High Holiday prayer of U’Nesaneh Tokef. But if so, how would teshuvas ha-mishkal of fasting be at all comparable to the Olah? Its function is apparently penitential and a form of cleansing, not merely appeasement. The answer lies in the nature of fasting. On one level, it surely is penitence and cleansing, but perhaps it can also be seen as an appeasement gift. How so? Consider the similar but critical distinction between the rituals of Tisha B’Av and Yom Kippur. On both days we fast and go without bathing and leather shoes. Yet on Tisha B’Av it is an expression of mourning, but on Yom Kippur it is to be closer to angelic qualities (see Pirkei De’Rabbi Eliezer 45.) The abstentions of Yom Kippur, though similar in form to those of Tisha B’Av, are not just expiation, but also an attempt to free ourselves from the distractions and burdens of physical need.
If so, then fasting in teshuvas ha-mishkal may also be about temporarily reducing physical distractions so as to become close to G-d. We now can understand those who take the position that teshuvas ha–mishkal is comparable to an Olah.
That New Car Smell (And the First Scratch)
Daf 6
Our Gemara on amud beis notes that the two goat sacrifices brought on Shavuos serve as atonement for defiling of the Temple – by entering it while ritually impure, or for defiling its sacrificial foods by partaking of them while ritually impure.
The Gemara asks: Once the blood of the first goat is sprinkled on the altar, thereby atoning for this defilement, for what sin is the second one sacrificed?
The Gemara answers the second goat is for any incident involving impurity that may have occurred between the sacrifice of that first goat and the sacrifice of this second goat.
Gur Aryeh (Vayikra 16:11) notes that this is the same reason why several of the Kohen Gadol’s sacrifices on Yom Kippur mention “he will atone for himself and his house” (Ibid. 16:5, 11, 17). Although he receives atonement from the first offering, he continues to seek atonement from the other sacrifices, as perhaps he sinned in the interim.
I will add that this may also be why the Shemoneh Esrei of Maariv after Yom Kippur has no change in the text. We ask for forgiveness as if it were a regular night of the year, despite having emerged from a day of prayer and forgiveness. Such is the nature of man: His propensity to sin is so strong that there is every reason to assume that more atonement is necessary even the moment he achieves forgiveness. It’s like taking a brand-new car off the lot and immediately getting a scratch. But this is indeed what happens.
Slow Burn: Why Change Takes Time
Daf 7
Our Gemara on amud beis discussed the order and priority of a Chattas sacrifice in comparison to an Olah sacrifice.
For what reason is a Chattas brought before an Olah in all circumstances in which both are brought? Rabbi Shimon answered: It is comparable to an advocate (lifraklit) who enters before the king to convince him to pardon the defendant. Once the advocate has appeased the king, the gift is brought in after him.
By comparison, the Chattas is partially burnt on the altar, while other portions of the meat are eaten by the kohanim, unlike the Olah which is fully burnt on the altar.
Ohr LaShamayim (Acharei Mos) questions why the Chattas sacrifice is brought for severe sins in comparison to an Olah sacrifice which is brought for violations of positive commandments. It would seem that the Olah, which is fully consumed on the altar, ought to be the more sacred sacrifice and therefore more appropriate for severe sins. The Ohr LaShamayim offers a profound answer that is insightful about human nature, which he believes is reflected in the hidden wisdom of the Chattas and Olah ritual.
Describing the process of the Jewish conquest of the land of Israel (Shemos 23:29-30), G-d says: “I will not drive them out before you in a single year, lest the land become desolate and the wild beasts multiply to your hurt. I will drive them out before you little by little, until you have increased and possess the land.” Metaphorically, these verses allude to the idea that when a person removes the evil inclination from inside him, he must go slowly because his life-force has been intertwined with and drawing strength from evil forces. If you were to eradicate all the evil from yourself too quickly, you would collapse. Rather, a slow gradual process of replacing the bad parts with the good parts is required. Just as when the enemy is driven out of a country suddenly, the economy would collapse, and thus it must be done more gradually – or in the case of the Biblical conquest of the Land of Israel, the Land would become desolate and wild animals would take over – so too with individuals.
This is also represented in the process of the Chattas offering. It is not fully burnt on the altar in order to signify that the religious conversion cannot be absolute yet. One part is sent to G-d; the other part still is physical and consumed by the priests. When the initial stages of cleansing and repentance are achieved, and the more severe sins are removed, then it’s appropriate for a higher level of devotion represented in the Olah sacrifice, which is fully burnt on the altar and goes completely to G-d.
What is true and described here physically and spiritually is also true psychologically. If a person starts to shift dysfunctional beliefs, practices, or traits in his character, since they have been so thoroughly integrated into his personality, it is better to make gradual changes so that the overall system can adjust. (This is also true for a family or a community.) Sometimes a person has an epiphany and insight into his own character, whether it is a religious awakening, or a certain psychological freedom or awareness that came from working through past traumas, and it has ripple effects on his life. It’s important to go gradually to recognize that all these different parts, while dysfunctional in one way, helped him function in another way, and therefore, for change to be meaningful and helpful, it should be gradual.
Pesach, Shelamim, and the Window of Redemption
Daf 8
Our Gemara on amud beis describes the unique quality of the Pesach sacrifice. The Korban Pesach has a quality similar to that of the sin offering, in that if it is slaughtered with the intention of a different sacrifice, it is rendered invalid. Other sacrifices, such as Shelamim and Olah, if they are slaughtered with the intention of a different sacrifice, are still kosher.
The Korban Pesach has a twist which is different even from the sin offering. The Korban Pesach brought outside of the day of Passover, its window of obligation, is considered as a Shelamim. Therefore, during the time that the Passover offering is supposed to be brought on the 14th of Nissan, if it is slaughtered with the intention of another sacrifice, it is invalid, but if it is brought with the intention of Pesach, it is valid. Likewise, and to the exact opposite result, if during the year it is brought up with the intention of a Paschal sacrifice, it will be invalid, but if it is brought with the intention of a Shelamim, it would be valid. So, the same exact sacrificial animal, depending on when it is brought, can be made valid or invalid for opposite intentions.
What is unique about the sin offering and the Paschal offering is that it becomes invalid if it is brought with the intention of another offering because, unlike Olah or Shelamim which can be brought voluntarily at any time, the character and nature of these sacrifices are defined by their purpose. In the case of the sin offering, it is in order to achieve an atonement for a particular sin and for a particular sinner. The Passover sacrifice is for the purpose of redemption and a memorialization of the rejection of the Egyptian idolatrous ways; therefore, if it is brought with improper intentions, its entire purpose is subverted. However, with the voluntary sacrifices, such as Olah or Shelamim, since they are not tied to a unique historical moment, or a unique and particular obligation, their purpose is not subverted if they are brought with a different intention.
Returning to the Passover sacrifice, perhaps we also see a larger lesson when it comes to redemption. There are two kinds of spiritual processes. The typical one is a gradual awareness and transformation that grows and develops over time (as we discussed in our post on Zevachim Daf 7). However, there also is a sudden and sweeping redemption, such as happened on Passover night in Egypt: “You left Egypt in haste” (Devarim 16:3). Such fortuitous redemptions are rare occurrences, and they require special Divine intervention and sanction. For example, even though hours earlier there was a window of opportunity for the Jews to conquer the land in Israel, when they rejected that opportunity and tried later on their own initiative, it was met with disaster (Bamidbar 14:40-45). There is a similarly themed Midrash about how, back when the Jews were in Egypt, the Tribe of Menashe unsuccessfully sought to rebel against their Egyptian overlords (Pirkei De’Rabbi Eliezer 47). And of course, the history of false messiahs from Bar Kochba to Shabtai Tzvi shows how dangerous premature “redemptions” can be.
This idea that sudden miraculous redemption requires special Divine sanction can be seen as included within this unique halacha of the Korban Pesach: It is valid only at that high level of sanctification during its window of opportunity; at a different time, the same intentions, no matter how noble, make it invalid. So too, personal redemption and spiritual elevation, as well as societal redemption, is usually a gradual process that does not come suddenly, nor does it need to. However, once in a while, there’s a sign or a signal – a special invitation from G-d to take a quantum leap forward. At that time, the opposite is true: If we don’t follow the proper intentions at its proper window, we lose the opportunity.