Zevachim – Daf 37
Our Gemara on amud beis offers a scriptural source for the four compartments of the tefillin that rest on the head. The Torah uses the word “Totafos,” an unusual term, sometimes translated as a frontal piece of jewelry, though it lacks a clear etymology. Our Gemara, quoting Rabbi Akiva, sees it as a composite of two words meaning “two,” in two exotic languages. “Tat” in the language of Katfei means two, and “Pat” in the language of Afriki means two, adding up to four in total.
What meaning can we derive from the fact that such an important religious artifact is described by the Torah in obscure terminology? Generally, a different language is used for narrative purposes, such as when Lavan speaks in his native Aramaic (Bereishis 31:47), or when a term captures a nuance that cannot easily be translated (perhaps Yosef’s Egyptian name, Tzafenas Pa’aneach, which means “Revealer of the hidden” (Bereishis 41:45; see Rashi)), or possibly a proper noun. In any case, Hebrew has a word for “two,” which is not complex – and for that matter, why use “two plus two” instead of simply “four?”
Likkutei Maharan (33:2) teaches that when a person is involved in the secular world, he may think there is no spiritual potential to experience, but in truth, holiness can be found everywhere. This, Likkutei Maharan says, is the lesson in the Torah’s use of foreign words.
To elaborate, the choice of such obscure languages – in contrast to the objects themselves, which are meant to induce acceptance and awareness of the commandments (as implied by Devarim 6:6-9) – emphasizes that G-d and holiness can be found even in the farthest places. The Torah’s use of “two plus two” instead of four might imply the need for multiplicity. To discover latent spirituality or godliness in these foreign strata may not be straightforward. It may require combining and aggregating experiences to arrive at an awareness of spirituality.
Holy Whip: Penance in the Kodesh HaKodashim
Daf 38
Our Gemara on amud aleph describes the motion of sprinkling the blood in the Holy of Holies during the Yom Kippur service: The sprinkling was “like a matzlif.” The Gemara explains that Rav Yehuda demonstrated with his hand that it means striking like one who whips – not repeatedly in one place but one lash beneath the other.
The word matzlif alludes to a process similar to lashes given with a whip. According to Hon Ashir (Mishna Yoma 5:3), this is not incidental: Just as lashes are a penance, so too this action achieves atonement. Hon Ashir further notes – if I am interpreting him correctly – that in the Holy of Holies there is first one sprinkling, and then seven sprinklings. The seven represent the seven days of Creation and the material labor of the week, and the single one represents the Sabbath, a day outside the regular laws of nature and cause and effect. The number eight symbolizes the realm beyond nature, as in the eighth day for bris milah or the eighth day of Chanukah (Sefas Emes, Bo 1; Bereishis, Chanukah 2).
Similarly, the 39 lashes correspond to the 39 melachos forbidden on Shabbos (Mishna Shabbos 7:2), which represent material labor. The hidden 40th lash still appears in the verse (Devarim 25:3) and, according to B’nei Yissaschar (Tishrei, Ma’amar 8:5), is fulfilled symbolically, with a lash in the direction of the person without making contact. In both cases, the act seeks penance for misdirected labor in the physical realm.
If so, why the eight lashes or the 40th, which are beyond this world? And why, even more, would the Holy of Holies be subjected to this whipping? Perhaps the first question answers the second: There is corruption even in spiritual labor, and it too requires cleansing and renewal.
The Sin of the New Level
Daf 39
Our Gemara on amud beis deduces that the Chattas sacrifice of the Festivals and Rosh Chodesh is not for a specific transgression. Though it atones for inadvertent defilement while entering the Beis HaMikdash or eating sacrificial meat in impurity, this is not a specific, known sin (Rosh Hashanah 4b).
Kedushas Levi (Likkutim, Parashas Vayera) offers a fascinating peshat, also addressing the difficult aggadah of Avraham taking counsel from Mamreh before his bris milah (Bereishis 18:1; Rashi quoting Bereishis Rabbah 42:8). While one could explain this as a technical medical consultation, Kedushas Levi finds that unconvincing. Instead, Mamreh offered spiritual insight.
A baal teshuva experiences daily renewal and growth. Each new awareness renders the prior day’s deeds relatively coarse, almost like inadvertent sins – not literally sinful, but spiritually deficient compared to the new level. Mamreh was preparing Avraham for that surge in holiness that follows entering the covenant.
Kedushas Levi says this is the true “sin of inadvertent impurity” – the shortfall of not yet having reached a higher spiritual state. Each new month or Yom Tov brings a higher level of awareness, and the Chattas atones for the lack of sensitivity from the prior phase of life.
Ramban (Bamidbar 6:14) explains that the Nazir’s Chattas comes because, after living on a higher level, he now desires to return to physical indulgence. Expanding on this based on the Kedushas Levi, we can say that the Nazir also atones for not having reached that higher level earlier. This reading fits even without assuming the return to normal life is sinful, as the Gemara (Ta’anis 11a) calls the Nazir sinful for self-affliction, not for moderation. The Nazir’s Chattas at the end, then, may express not guilt for rejoining ordinary life, but regret for not having risen sooner.
Cloud Cover
Daf 40
Our Gemara on amud aleph discusses a halachic requirement for inner sanctum sin offerings, such as those brought on Yom Kippur whose blood is sprinkled in the Holy of Holies: If there is a breach in the roof, the service may not be performed.
Likkutei Halachos (Yoreh De’ah, Laws of Vows 4) notes that the sukkah recalls the Clouds of Glory – the Shechinah that enveloped the Jewish people in the wilderness. This is the same “cloud” that greets the Kohen Gadol as he enters the Holy of Holies (Vayikra 16:2). Pri Tzaddik (Pesach 9) adds that the cloud represents concealment; even in revelation, there must remain some barrier, for man cannot experience G-d directly.
Symbolically, this is profound. What meaning can we derive from the fact that such an important religious artifact is described by the Torah in obscure terminology? As Mishlei (25:2) states, “It is the glory of G-d to conceal a matter.” A relationship must have privacy and sacred boundaries, honoring the bond both from within and without.
Loving Distance
Daf 41
Our Gemara on amud beis compares the Chattas of the Kohen Gadol and the Chattas of the congregation. Certain differences in how the ritual is described in the Torah imply messages about the nature of the sin and the status of the sinner:
The school of Rabbi Yishmael taught: For what reason are the diaphragm and the two kidneys stated with regard to the bull for an unwitting sin of the anointed priest, and they are not explicitly stated with regard to the bull for an unwitting communal sin?
This can be explained by a parable: It can be compared to a flesh-and-blood king who grew angry with his beloved servant for his misdeeds, but spoke little of the servant’s offense due to his great affection for him. Likewise, as the Jewish people are beloved by G-d, the Torah does not describe their sin offering in detail.
And the school of Rabbi Yishmael further taught: For what reason is it stated, “Before the Curtain of the Sanctuary” (Vayikra 4:6), with regard to the bull for an unwitting sin of the anointed priest, and this is not stated with regard to the bull for an unwitting communal sin, where it merely states, “Before the Curtain” (Vayikra 4:17)?
This can be explained by a parable: It can be compared to a flesh-and-blood king against whom a province sinned. If a minority of that province sinned, his relationship with his entourage (pamalya) remains. But if the majority of the province sinned, his relationship with his entourage does not remain, and he no longer meets even those who remained devoted to him. Similarly, when the entire people sin, G-d no longer has the same relationship with them, and it is as though the place where the priest sprinkles the blood is no longer sacred.
The above interpretation follows Rashi. The Maharsha notes a serious inconsistency. In the first clause, the congregation’s honor is held above that of the Kohen Gadol, since the Torah conceals part of their offering to spare their shame. Yet in the second clause, the opposite seems true: The congregation is distanced, as the Torah omits the word “Sanctuary,” merely saying “the Curtain,” unlike by the Kohen Gadol’s offering.
The Maharsha therefore interprets that the first clause also conveys endearment toward the Kohen Gadol – that the Torah honors him by describing his offering in more explicit detail.
The Maris HaAyin defends Rashi’s approach, arguing that there is no contradiction. The congregation may indeed be distanced collectively, thus the omission of “Sanctuary,” yet the concealment of the details of their offering remains an act of love – G-d’s wish to spare their humiliation.
The disagreement turns on whether affection and distance can coexist. The Maharsha sees this as a contradiction, while the Maris HaAyin, following Rashi, allows for emotional complexity: Hashem may express both kiruv (closeness) and rechuk (distance) at once.
This nuanced view offers a deep psychological and moral lesson. In disciplinary relationships –between parent and child, teacher and student, or leader and follower – there are times when closeness must momentarily give way to boundary or consequence. Yet even as the discipline introduces distance, the underlying bond of love remains. Genuine affection sometimes expresses itself not by indulgence, but by protecting the other’s dignity even in correction.