http://www.unlibrary.com/

http://www.openlib.in/

http://headtoweb.posterous.com/peer-to-peer-library

http://www.bookcrossing.com/ – apparently since 2001 but yet to catch on widely…
mutualgift.net/2011/01/27/co-library-peer-to-peer-lending/

http://www.suttonbookshare.org.uk/

As always, if you have better answers or find problems with my own, please comment to let me know! I’m not embarrassed by the possibility of mistakes, so don’t worry about shaming me by pointing them out!

(Previous posts were on Massei / Masei, Matot / Matos, Balak and Pinchas).

1. Verses 21:15 and 21:16 state, “[15:] If a man will have two wives, the one beloved and the one hated, and they bear him sons, the beloved one and the hated one, and the firstborn son will be [born] to the hated one, [16:] then it shall be on that day that he causes his sons to inherit whatever will be his, he cannot give the right of the firstborn to the son of the beloved one ahead of the son of the hated one, [who is] the firstborn.”*

Q: If the verse has just stated that a man has one beloved wife and one hated wife, and then states that they bear him sons, why repeat “the beloved one and the hated one?” It’s obvious who’s bearing the sons – we just said it!

A: A possible answer is that the repetition serves to emphasize that both wives bear multiple sons. Had the apparent repetition not been there, these other interpretations might have been tenable:

• They each bear him one son, which in total suffices for the verse to say “they bear him sons,” sons in the plural.
• One wife bears one son, but one wife bears multiple sons, which allows the verse to say “they bear him sons,” they in the plural. E.g. Each bore at least one son.

*[Artscroll translation, including "[born]“. I added “the” twice in the text of 15 because that corresponds more precisely to the Hebrew text, and marked the additions in italics. I also added “[who is]” based on my understanding of the text; absent that addition, “the firstborn” can be seen as superfluous because we can imply who the verse is talking about.]

2. Verse 15 uses slightly varying spelling and pronunciation to refer to the hated wife the second time she’s mentioned. The Hebrew reads: “כי תהיין לאיש שתי נשים האחת אהובה והאחת שנואה והיה הבן הבכור לשניאה”

[Emphasis added.]

Q: Why go from “senuah” to “seniah,” swapping the vav for a yud? What difference does it make? Why use a peculiar form of the Nifal passive tense when it’s clear what is meant in the normal Nifal conjugation? The variation is especially remarkable as the following reference to her reverts back to the ordinary spelling, senuah.

A: Changing the vav to a yud makes the word seniah, which contains the word “sheni,” or the masculine spelling of “second.” Further, if you change the ess sound in seniah for a “sh” sound – because it’s the same consonant – then reading the word we have a homonym for the feminine spelling of “second.”

While this second bit of manipulation seems a bit of a stretch to my Western mentality, we do see similar techniques of interpretation used by our Sages. For example, later in Ki Teitze, Rashi notes that our Sages compared Canaanite slaves to a donkey, based on a verse in Genesis. There, Abraham told his Canaanite slaves to stay “with the donkey,” where the pronunciation of “with” can be changed so the word means “nation.” [The spelling of the word remains identical: "עם החמור" .]

Another example of such is the “keri-ketiv” part of the Oral Law, which tells us to read differently than it is spelled in the Tanach. Daily prayer provides an example, where we read the words, “Don’t read ‘your sons’ but rather ‘your builders’” ["אל תקרי בניך אלא בוניך"]

Thoughts, comments? Let me know!

Other columns in the series:

Balak/Pinchas, Mattot, and Massei.

Q1. In verse 1:21, Moses cites the Israelites as asking him to “Let us send men ahead of us and let them spy out the land for us,” but instead of the common verb for spying, “וירגלו- לרגל”, the Israelites are cited as using a verb whose literal meaning is to dig, “ויחפרו”. Why the digging metaphor?

A1: One possible answer is that initially, the intent was good – they’d be digging for hidden treasure as it were, revealing the greatness of the land.

A2: An answer I find more plausible, because it’s more in line with the traditional criticism of the generation of the wilderness, is that they were looking for the spies to uncover the negative aspects of the land. The good would be obvious – the 7 species are hard to miss.

Q2: Verse 1:26 reads, “But you did not wish to ascend,” again using the less-common word “אביתם” instead of the more widely used “רציתם” or “חפצתם”. Why the particular wording?

I don’t have an answer to suggest…

Q3: “The Moabites called them Emim,” reads verse 2:11. Rashi comments that the name ‘Emim’ is derived from the Hebrew word for ‘dread’ (in the sense of fear), ‘Emah’, because they were giants and instilled fear in those who saw them.

Why would the Moabites have referred to another nation by a name derived from a Hebrew word? I can picture them calling them something based on the Moabite word for dread, but it seems incongruous for the Moabites to use Hebrew in their naming.

Q4: Verse 2:13 has some strange grammar. Moses has up to that point been recounting events in the Israelites’ travels through the wilderness, in the past tense. Then verse 2:13 reads: “Now, rise up and get yourselves across the Valley of Zared – so we crossed the Valley of Zared.”

Similarly, verse 2:24 transitions from the previous verses’ past tense to the imperative, “Rise up and cross the Valley of Arnon; see! into your hand have I delivered Sihon king of Heshbon, the Amorite, and his land; begin to drive [him] out, and provoke war with him.”

What’s the imperative doing there?

A: The best I can think of is to connect this to the content of verses prior to 2:13 and to the content of 2:24 and following.

Before 2:13, the children of Esau drove out the Horites, and prior to that we find a discussion of giants. So perhaps the imperative comes to explain that G’ wasn’t having any of our dilly-dallying and ordered us to cross over into what was land filled with intimidating people? And so we crossed…

This seems reinforced as the next such past-imperative switch in 2:24 has a reference to G’ (“I have delivered Sihon king of Heshbon”), and there’s again reference to an intimidating person, the powerful warrior Sihon, who was mighty in his own right but also commanded hundreds of high quality chariots.

Q5: Verse 2:27 outright repeats the word “in the road,” “בדרך” , consecutively. Artscroll translates this as meaning “only on the road” [shall I go...]. That would make sense, as meaning the road within the road. I guess this isn’t much of a question now, but it was when I first noticed it and noted it…

Q6: 2:30 reads, “for Hashem, your G’, hardened his spirit and made his heart stubborn, in order to give him into your hand, like this very day.”

What does “like this very day” come to add to our verse? It seems superfluous?

Rashi doesn’t comment, sadly.

Q7: Conversely, we find a bit of a perplexing comment by Rashi later, on the name of the mountain, Senir. He explains that it means snow in German and in the slavic languages.

(Rashi uses the expression “Canaanite,” not “Slavic,” but Artscroll explains it as an expression used by Jews in Rashi’s time (the Middle Ages) to refer to the Slavs.)

Where did the expression come from? Did Rashi and his contemporaries see the Slavs as descendants of the Canaanites? That would be somewhat amusing considering the typically pale complexion of Slavs, in contrast to the Canaanites, descendants of the first black man (Ham).

Q8: The powerful and gigantic warrior Og, who survived the battle of the 5 kings against the 4 kings, has his size described with reference to his bed, in verse 3:11.

Why describe Og’s size according to his bed’s size? Why not according to the size of the door to his house?

The best I can imagine is that his bed would be the thing most tailored to fit him. The door might be taller or shorter depending on his family’s dimensions, and other household items like a table and chairs aren’t necessarily proportional to their users’ sizes.

Q9: A related question is why does that same verse (3:11) use the unit of measurement “the cubit of a man” to refer to what Rashi describes as “the cubit of Og”? (A cubit is the length of the forearm.) Why not just outright say, “the cubit of Og”?

A: Rashi tells us in other comments on the Torah that the word “man,” when it is superfluous to the literal meaning of the verse, is interpreted as an “important person.”

Og would be deserving of such a title for having done Abraham a favour. In the book of Genesis, he told Abraham that Abraham’s nephew Lot had been captured in the war of the kings.

Using the phrase “the cubit of a man” teaches us that Og was an important person.

At least, that’s my guess!

Q10: In Hebrew, conjoined nouns, סמיכות, normally feature the general noun followed by the personal noun. Hence, “Magen David” for “Shield of David,” and not “David Magen.”

Yet there’s a curious noun conjunction in verse 3:16, where the “Valley of Yabbok” is referred to “Yabbok HaNakhal” (literally, Yabbok The Valley).

Why the odd syntax?

It’s all the more strange in that another valley referred to in the same verse uses proper syntax: the “Valley of Arnon” is referred to as “Nakhal Arnon.” And an earlier reference to the valley in verse 2:37 uses the regular form, “Nakhal Yabbok.”

Q11: We find the word Ashdot, אשדת, translated by Artscroll as “waterfalls” in verse 3:17. Yet in Devarim (Deuteronomy) 33:2 we find the same word to have a ktiv-keri instruction to read the text differently than it appears: there it’s interpreted as two words, אש דת, meaning Fire of Law, i.e. The Torah.

(Kudos to the Hebrew biblical search engine for helping me find the citation.)

So what does this word really mean? The closest I can come to an explanation is our Sages’ teaching, “there is no water but Torah.” איו מים אלא תורה. Thus on a literal reading the word Ashdot refers to waterfalls in a particular geographic location, while on a higher level it’s perhaps a reference to the Torah?

Love to hear your comments!

1) There’s some noticeably peculiar grammar in 33:7 where the subject switches back and forth from “them” to “he,” instead of maintaining the same subject. From Artscroll’s translation, “They journeyed from Etham and it turned back to Pi-hahiroth, which is before Baal Zephon, and they encamped before Migdol.” “ויסעו מאתם וישב על פי החירות אשר על פני בעל צפון ויחנו לפני מגדול”

What turned back? It can’t be the camp, since then the verse would have said “and they turned back.” Perhaps the heavenly cloud?
In any case, why turn back?

A related question concerns Artscroll’s translation of the place name from which “it turned back.” Was the name החירות
Hahiroth- or was it Pi-hahiroth?

While Artscroll’s translation above seems pretty cut-and-dried, consider first that “Pi” means mouth in Hebrew, and the metaphore “mouth” is used in association with places to say their edge or opening, just like the metaphore “lip.” That is, the metaphore’s used that way in Hebrew [and obviously in English too; lots of expressions in English come from Biblical Hebrew as it turns out]. So “Pi-hahiroth” can mean the “mouth of ‘Hahiroth.’”

And if we look at the next verse, it suggests just that: “They journeyed from before Hahiroth and passed through…”
ויסעו מפני החירות
Notice that here, the word “Pi” is omitted for “Mipnei,” which literally means ‘from the face’ and is ordinarily used to mean ‘from before’. So the place is now called Hahiroth.

So was the place called Hahiroth or Pi-Hahiroth? If the former, why translate the name once as Pi-Hahiroth and once as Hiroth?

(If you’re wondering why verse 33:8 says they “journeyed from before Hahiroth” when the 33:7 said they encamped before Migdol, it has to do with the Hebrew verb for “returning.” In Hebrew, the same verb for ‘return’ can be used to mean to settle – so 33:7 can be read as “They journeyed from Etham and it [lit.: settled =] encamped upon Pi-hahiroth, which is before Baal Zephon, and they encamped before Migdol.” Hiroth aka Pi-Hahiroth may thus be the same place as Migdol, or Migdol may simply be a name for some big landmark like a mountain or rock pillar, as it contains the same root letters as “big” – gadol – גדל

2)
ויסעו ממרה ויבאו אילמה ובאילם שתים עשרה עינת מים ושבעים תמרים ויחנו שם

They journeyed from Marah and arrived at Elim; in Elim were twelve springs of water and seventy date palms, and they encamped there.

The Torah isn’t in the habit of counting every rock and bush crossed along the way, so why mention these springs and date palms? If you want to say that it’s the reason they encamped, that may well be, but we have references numerous other encampments where the reason isn’t given. Why should it matter now?

No, the important thing about this verse is not really the mention of palms or springs – although it certainly is exceptional- but rather the numbers. 12 springs? You know, like the 12 tribes? 70 date palms… like the 70 members of Jacob’s household who descended with him to Egypt? Or perhaps like the 70 nations of the world

I have an inkling that the Midrash has something to say about this, and likewise the commentators. I unfortunately don’t have any volumes of Midrash so I can’t dig into this. My best guess at explaining the significance would be something like

- The water corresponds to the Torah, as the Talmud in Baba Kamma (82a) says, “there is no water but Torah.” “אין מים אלא תורה”
- The 12 springs of water refer to the tribes, and are a metaphor for their own learning approaches / perspectives on the Torah.
- The springs feed the date palms, and thus the 70 children are a further expansion of the number of ways to read/understand the Torah, going from the 12 tribes’ views to 70. As the expression says, the Torah has 70 facets. “שבעים פנים לתורה” (apparently first seen in the alphabet letters of Rabbi Akiva, per Wikipedia, and in Ibn Ezra’s commentary.
- Alternately, if the date palms represent the nations of the world, I believe our Sages would say that the world continues to exist only in the merit of the righteous ones, and thus the date palms – e.g. nations – survive thanks to the merit of the great Torah scholars. The question remains though, why the nations would be symbolized by the date palms – e.g. a tree giving sweet fruits.

A related few notes I thought were interesting.

They left a place known as “Bitter” for Eilim where they found water (presumably potable, being spring water, and thus in English freshwater is also called sweet) , and of course the dates are sweet, the antithesis of bitter.

When Yocheved (or her daughter?) went down to Egypt, she was but a fetus. Yet she is counted amongst the 70 souls who went down to Egypt with Jacob. Perhaps there’s something related to ‘ who strikes a soul [to death] will surely die.” ואיש כי יכה נפש מות יומת
- ויקרא כד:יז
Vayikra 24:17

3) One of the places visited along the journey was called Ovoth. (33:44) I’m curious where the name comes from, as the name sounds related to Ov in the sense, of “one who inquires of Ov and Yideoni” – one who inquires of magicians and idols about the future, a banned practice in Judaism.שואל אוב וידעוני

There is however an extra vav in the phrase cited, whereas Ovoth is written אוב, not to mention that the plural of Ov would normally be Ovim as Ov doesn’t have a feminine suffix.

4) Why are the plains of Moav referred to by the unusual word, ערבות, instead of the more common מישור? The root is ערב, which can relate to guarantors as in the phrase All Israel Are Responsible One For The Other, כל ישראל ערבים זה לזה or can also related to night, arabs, or mixing. (33:49)

5) Why is the possessive ה attached to the word ארץ when it is in a conjunction, a סמיכות, with the proper noun Canaan? According to regular Hebrew grammar, including Biblical grammar, the ה shouldn’t be there in a conjunction involving a proper noun. (34:2)

6) Why repeat “this shall be for you the western border” in verse 34:6, when the verse started with “And the western border: and it shall be for you…” I see that Rashi comments on a third reference to the border in the same verse, saying that “and the bounded area” refers to certain islands in the sea as being part of Israel’s border. But that doesn’t explain the other two references, which appear repetitive.

(A related question one might as is why repeat the word “and” – ‘And the western border: and it shall be for you [lit: and it was]…’ I think this is simply a Biblical-Hebrew style of expression, whereby the past tense is used sometimes to express the future and similarly the word “and” is adjoined to such expressions.)

7) Why does 34:18 repeat “one prince” twice?

In discussing the princes bringing their offerings, why refer to some of them as ‘prince’ and not to others? I can understand it not being mentioned for Calev as we know already that he was a great man, and we know that the tribe of Simon lost its prince when he sinned with the Midianite woman. But why not mention that Benjamin’s representative was a prince?…

Also, can we make anything of their names?

9) 35:32 says, regarding one who killed accidentally, “And you shall not take atonement money for one who fled to his city of refuge to return to dwell in the land before the death of the Kohen [Gadol].” In what is it his city, as opposed to ‘a’ city?

ולא תקחו כפר לנוס אל עיר מקלטו לשוב לשבת בארץ עד מות הכהן”"

- Does the verse mean we shouldn’t bring the money… to his city of refuge? In this case, we’d be reading the phrase as “And you shall not take atonement money for one who fled[,] to his city of refuge.” But perhaps we can take that money elsewhere, like to the Temple?

- Artscroll translates Rashi’s first comment , “לא יפטר בממון”, as “He shall not be exempt [from the death penalty] through payment of money.” But ‘be exempt’ means that they understand Rashi to be using the passive Nifal verb form, which is difficult since it implies a misspelling on Rashi’s behalf. The third person singular, conjugated in the future of Nifal, takes two Yuds at the start, ייפטר, yet Rashi’s comment has only one.

Perhaps Rashi had another meaning?

There’s a phenomenon in Hebrew of homonymous letters replacing one another, and so perhaps Rashi meant “לא יפתר בממון ” – “he won’t solve [the problem of his killing] with money,” replacing the ט with a ת. But this is also difficult because the verb to solve is in the Paal group of verbs, whereas reading Rashi this way would require the verb to be in the Piel group… or else we’d need to imply that Rashi switched the tet and taf letters, and also used a ‘shortened’ form of the word where the ‘o’ vowel is written with a dot and not a dotted-vav, which would fit the verb with the Paal group.

I find this explanation unpersuasive, however, because in his following comment, Rashi uses the Nifal form explicitly, with proper spelling: אינו נפטר בגלות לתן כופר

- What is the meaning of “before the death of the Kohen”? Can we then take the atonement money? This would be strange since a footnote in Artscroll explains that “one does not receive two punishments for the same sin” – and the accidental killer has already suffered the punishment of exile from his city/community.

Perhaps this means that the money would allow him to return now, until the death of the Kohen, at which point he would finally need to go into exile. The money would be a ransom for his working years, allowing him to make use of his most productive financial years in his community, instead of having to start over from scratch? This reading changes the meaning of the word ,”עד”, which Rashi reads as “before” [the translation given above, per Artscroll] for the Sifrei’s translation as “until.”

- I considered the following reading and associated question, but then rejected them as only plausible based on the English text; the Hebrew syntax would be different if this were the meaning indicated: “- What if he fled to a city of refuge that wasn’t “his” – can you then take atonement money? In this case, we’d be reading the phrase as “And you shall not take atonement money for ‘one-who-fled-to-his-city-of-refuge’. ”

- Rashi’s interpretation of the verse – which rejects the Sifrei’s reading – only makes sense if there’s a reason to pay off the city of refuge to which he flees. Perhaps they are intermediaries and transmit the money to the family of the deceased, who otherwise would kill the killer [the Torah says this isn't murder and that such killings are exempt from the death penalty (though it's unclear to me personally if that means there's no punishment at all]. At that point he can end his exile early? But then why say, before/until the death of the Kohen?

But the best explanations I could find for the difficulties of this verse are as follows:

1) The Sifrei’s interpretation of the verse focuses on rejecting a potential alternative to the death penalty for an intentional killer. The Sifrei thus sees this verse not as a statement of law on a new subject, but continuing the subject discussed in the immediately preceding verse, the wicked killer who killed deliberately. The Sifrei thus interprets as follows: “You shall not take atonement money [instead of the death penalty], to allow the murderer to flee to his city of refuge, to return [from among the condemned] to dwell in the land until the death of the Kohen.” [Citing Artscroll for Sifrei]

2) Rashi rejects the Sifrei, reading it literally without the words Artscroll puts in brackets, because he can’t understand from where the killer is to return as he has not yet fled, at the time where we might take money to allow him to flee. He thus doesn’t see return as a figurative allusion to return from amongst the condemned but rather literal return to his city. Instead, Rashi proposes this interpretation:

“And you shall not take atonement money for one who fled, to his city of refuge, to return to dwell in the land, before the death of the Kohen.” I’ve added in commas around “to his city of refuge” because I think Rashi’s background thoughts are as follows:

3) Maybe the verse means that the killer’s home community shouldn’t support the killer while he is in exile? This would also explain another notable element of the verse, the use of the highly-specific word “Kopher,” ,”כפר”. In this case, the word is spelled without a vav and is thus spelled identically to the word “Kphar,” which means village. So you would interpret the verse as “Don’t take town [read: the financial support of his town/community] to the killer to his city of refuge until the death of the Kohen.” This is based partly on how Artscroll footnotes Rashi, saying that

“With ‘by giving atonement money,’ Rashi indicates that ‘for one who fled’ of the verse refers tot taking money from [italics in original] the one who fled for his benefit. It does not refer to taking money from others for him.”

Therefore we can perceive who these others might be – his family and community.

This would also make sense in the perspective of measure-for-measure punishment, insofar as having killed part of a family and community, the person should themselves be cut off from family and community.

I’d love to hear your comments and feedback upon this!

I’ve seen or heard or experienced exactly that, on both sides of the coin, in a few ways:

- A very close friend of mine in a relationship whose possible outcomes are all negative
- Another very close friend who smokes cigarettes despite having quit before and of course knowing all the health problems it can cause
- Having others seek to influence my religious thought and trying too hard to sell me on coming to classes

In a similar vein, this past shabbat I heard a story that a friend experienced and witnessed another one:

- Chabad established itself in a small community where the synagogue was affiliated with the Conservative movement. While men and women sat separately, there was no mechitza (modesty/separation curtain). According to my friend who lived in that community, Chabad tried to impose the mechitza and had their initiative strongly rejected, the community feeling disrespected.

- Yesterday, during the time between the Mincha and Ar’vit prayer services, I sat down with the rest of the congregation for the third meal of Shabbat (aka Seuda Shlishit). Around the time the rabbi started speaking, a lady who’d walked up from the street had entered discussion with one of the female congregants, and some of the men hushed her.

She responded by saying that it was a public space (we were eating outside, and the synagogue was part of the neighbourhood’s town hall), which was true. While that response was immature – she could have just taken note of what most of the congregants were trying to do and respectfully wrapped up the conversation – the reaction was equally ill-considered: some of the men shouted at her and basically told her to be quiet/get lost.

In my humble opinion, the teaching of Rav Tzvi Yehuda would have been appropriate here. The Temple was destroyed due to gratuitous hatred between Jews, and to rebuild it we must first engage in gratuitous love for one another. That’s not free love in the hippie sense of random sex, but seeking another’s wellbeing and caring for them without judging. Applying that to the above situation, the most appropriate response would have been to offer the lady a chair, some food and invite her to participate. If she then declined, it would then be reasonable to ask her to be quiet and/or leave. But the first priority should have been to welcome her warmly.

But suppose that they had done that – would they have been successful in influencing the community to add the mechitza? It would then at least have been possible, but it would not be certain. Why not?

Because people don’t like to be told what to do, at least in areas such as religion and health. (In other areas, the discipline of direct response advertising has shown that people do actually do what they’re asked to do.)

So how do you influence people? By leading by example. It won’t be 100% certain that they’ll follow your lead, but by first earning people’s trust by caring gratuitously, and then by showing the right thing to do, some people will be curious to know more about your behaviour and then copy you.

1) The first of these is the phrasing, “A thousand to a tribe, a thousand to a tribe, ” אלף למטה אלף למטה. (31:4
Why the repetition?

The best I can think of is to imply in “A thousand to a small tribe and A thousand to a large tribe,” e.g. regardless of the tribe’s actual numbers. But then, why not just say so explicitly?

A related idea is perhaps that instead of reading in “small” and “large,” it’s a question of emphasis. Each tribe must put forth 1000, as opposed to just having more numerous tribes contribute more and less numerous tribes contribute less, such that in total there’d be 12,000 regardless of their tribal provenance. Hence the first “A thousand to a tribe” emphasizes the number sought, and the second “A thousand to a tribe” emphasizes that each tribe must put forth 1000 soldiers.

We see also that every tribe – including Levi – contributed soldiers to this recruitment drive… perhaps there’s a connection?

2) In 31:27, we have a very specific reference to those same soldiers who went to do battle with the Midianites. The verse reads:
תופשוי המלחמה היוצאים לצבא
Literally: “The seizers of the war who go out to the army,” which Artscroll translates as “those who undertook the battle, who go out to the army.”
Why not just say “those who undertook the battle,” or just “those who go out to the army?”

The best I can think of, but am not fully convinced with is that:
- We know that the all Children of Israel participated in battles, be it with arms or be it remaining behind and praying. This goes back even to the time of Jacob, if I’m not misstaken, where he went to meet his brother Esau and left back in the encampment his family who were praying. So just saying those who undertook the battle would not be sufficiently clear – it could be read to include everyone.

- From previous parashiot, we know that there were censuses taken of the Children of Israel and specifically of those who went out to the army. So just saying those who went to the army might be taken to include every male of age who would normally be drafted, as opposed to the specific 12,000 righteous people selected to fight this particular war.

My difficulty with this explanation is that the first part doesn’t quite hold up in light of the fact that the full verse reads: “Divide the plunder in half, between those who undertook the battle, who go out to the army, and the entire assembly [i.e. all the rest of the Children of Israel]. There’s obviously a distinction then between those who fought [with arms] and the rest of the nation, which defeats the first half of my explanation.

A related question I have is: why use the word “the seizers” of the war? תופשוי המלחמה

3) The next verse describes the levy from the warriors and that from the rest of the nation, and changes the phrasing to “the men of war who go out to the army” – what is this contrast meant to teach us?

The best I could think of was that either:

- Again this is to specify those who participated in the physical combat as opposed to all those of army age, which might be understood from just using ‘those who go out to the army.’

Or if the text had just said ‘the men of war’ (אנשי המלחמה) we might have understood it to mean the important people amongst the warriors, i.e. the officers. This is since Rashi has a rule that where the text of the Torah uses the word ‘men’ in a seemingly superfluous way, it implies that the people designated by the term were important.

This is in contrast to use of the word men in a way where it can’t be removed from the text without losing some meaning. That said, this might arguably be one of those cases where ‘men’ is not superfluous – Rashi’s rule may only apply to cases where the word can be outright removed, as opposed to replaced with more concise phrasing. That’s if you consider removing ‘men’ and then you’re just left with ‘of war’ which obviously can’t stand on its own grammatically. But if you consider removing ‘men of war’ then it can be seen a superfluous to ‘those who go out to the army.

- The focus should be on the word ‘men’ in men of war. We’re specifying that they were men of distinction; indeed, Rashi explains earlier (31:3 above) that the 12,000 men conscripted to fight Midian were righteous (צדיקים). This distinguishes them from ‘those who go out to the army’ in general, since those people may have been good, but weren’t necessarily at the level of being called Tzadikkim.

Another reason for the specification? Perhaps to provide an explanation as to why they would only be paying a levy of 1/500 on their booty from the war, as opposed to the rest of the nation which paid a levy of 1/50 on the spoils.

4) The levy is to go to “the Levites, the guardians of the charge of the Tabernacle of H’ .” ” ‘ללוים שמרי משמרת משכן ה”
We already are familiar with their role as guardians… why specify it here (31:30)?

Perhaps to create a rule that the Levites were also entitled to a share of the spoils, albeit not 1/12th, despite not normally participating in the physical combat (this war with Midian being an exception). They’re busy taking care of the Tabernacle, so are dispensed with army duty, but still deserve a share in the booty because their work as guardians is of course important. A variant but related explanation: perhaps because they wouldn’t be around to collect loot in the heat of the battle, being charged with guardianship duties, so this would be to compensate.

5) Why does the singular form of the verb ‘to do’ appear in 30:31 to say, “Moses and Elazar did as G’ had commanded Moses…” ? If it’s 2 people, shouldn’t it be in the plural? ויעש is written instead of the grammatically correct ויעשו

In other places where similar difficulties appear, Rashi gives comments like ‘they did it with one mind, with the same desire/purpose’ . If that’s the explanation appropriate to this verse, why wouldn’t they have carried out the commandment with the same drive/purpose? They were both great Tzadikkim…

6) In commanding the people to kill the Midianite women (for having caused Israel to sin and thus leading to the deaths of 24,000 Israelites), Moses uses the phrasing “every woman who knows a man by lying with a male.” (31:17)

Rashi explains the present tense “knows” [as opposed to saying has known] as meaning a woman with ability for sexual relations, based on the Sifrei and Talmud. His comment continues, now citing just the Talmud, that girls three years of age and up were able to have relations, and that therefore Moses’ order to kill the Midianite women is directed at all those age 3+.

First, this is surprising in light of the extremely young age purportedly capable of sexual relations. More importantly, the comment presents the difficulty that in describing the levy later on, different phrasing is used in regards to these women. “women who had not known lying with a male” (31:35)- it’s in the past tense! The levy was taken of living captives, so it’s plausible that the two make sense together, insofar as those able to have sex were killed, and those who were unable [and thus obviously didn't] were left alive and were part of the levy.

But why use the past tense in the second phrasing? It can be read to suggest the opposite of what Rashi said – namely that only women who had had sexual relations were killed. Presumably then this would make the cutoff age for which Midianite women were killed significantly higher. And to explain the present tense used earlier, one might argue that the Midianite female captives were still trying [at that present moment] to seduce the Israelite men and lead them to idol worship, despite their captivity.

A related thought I had was that in Pirkei Avot, it says a child of age 5 is old enough to learn the text of the Tanach. If so, then it’s plausible that Midianite girls around that age were beginning to learn from their parents’ behaviour and loathing for the Israelites, and would thus pose a threat to the nation in the future. Girls less than three years of age would presumably not remember enough to be influenced in any permanent way by their parents.

7) The maphtir of Mattot describes various Israelites conquering places on the east bank of the Jordan river. I suppose there’s some historical interest, but generally speaking it doesn’t seem to serve much instructive purpose. The borders of the state of Israel are described in Parashat Massei, but perhaps this is related to a war of choice, מלחמת רשות

Any explanations on why these seemingly miscellaneous details were deemed worthy of mention? And why the specific places and names of the families/people that conquered them? Some place names may have been stated to indicate that upon conquering them, the Israelites changed the names to remove any associations with idolatry, but not all the names mentioned had such associations …

Balak:

1) Rashi comments on perek 25 verse 5, that “Each and every one of the judges of Israel would kill two [of those who had sinned with the Midianite women and their idol, Peor], and the judges of Israel were seven myriads (seventy thousand) and eight thousand, as stated in Eilu Hein HaNisrafin (Sanhedrin 82a).” We find out that 24,000 of the Israelites died as a result of sinning with the Midianite women. Yet if each judge killed two, that would amount to 156,000 dead. Alternately, if each judge killed two until all the sinners died, what purpose could there be in stating that there were 78,000 judges? Perhaps to show that it wasn’t just the Sanhedrin of 72 that was meant by the judges? E.g. That there were enough judges to kill the sinners?..

Pinchas:

2) If the judges of Israel killed the sinners seduced by the Midianite women, why is the event referred to as a plague? (Ex.: 25:16 and 26:1) I have a tentative answer, but I’m not sure of it: Rashi commented in Parashat Korach that it’s sin that kills, not the incense of G’s service. Thus the plague is a reference to the sin, not the means by which they were killed.

3) The daughters of Zelophehad are referred to with the word “להם” which denotes the masculine “to them.” (27:7) . Why refer to an all-female group that way? Indeed, later in the same passage they’re referred to by the feminine “to them” – “להן” . The best I can imagine is to show that they are able to inherit from their father, just like sons would have been able to (albeit the sons would have taken the whole inheritance). But then, why not use the masculine form both times? Any other explanations?

4) Regarding the hierarchy of inheritors stated in verses 27:8 to 27:11, is this mandatory according to halacha or just the default which can be circumvented (e.g. with a properly made will)?

5) A weird repetitive phrasing appears in regards to the sacrifices. What Artscroll’s translation renders as a tenth of an ephah literally reads as “a tenth tenth”: עשרון עשרון. (ex.: 28:11) To me, that sounds like we should be implying the words “of a” in between, e.g. “a tenth of a tenth” – one hundredth. What’s the proper meaning of the phrase and why is there such a repetition?

6) There’s a peculiar bit of phrasing regarding the libations for the sacrifices, in verse 28:14. The verse refers to the volume measurement known as a “hin” by saying “the hin” – e.g. a specific hin. In hebrew the word is, ” ההין.” Why is there that extra “heh” at the start?

7) Verse 28:28 states, “three tenth-ephahs for the one bull” for the sacrifices to be brought on Shavuot, which include two bulls. Later we find that for Rosh Hashana’s sacrifice, there’s to be made “one tenth ephah for the one lamb, for the seven lambs.” (29:4)

Why doesn’t 28:28 state, “for the two bulls” after “three tenth ephahs for the one bull”? Does it mean only one bull would be accompanied by the offering of three tenth ephahs? If so, which one? [Note: It’s not just because there were two bulls that the verse doesn’t state “for the two bulls,” because in 29:14 you have “two tenth ephahs for the one ram, for the two rams.”

29:8 says, regarding sacrificial animals, “unblemished shall they for you.” Why “for you?” What does that add? The context is not a sacrifice of atonement, but rather an olah-offering (rising offering) so the point is not that that they need to be unblemished to be able to take our sins upon them.

(What is creating space?)

Why most players don’t get open for the second pass

When players are young, they all bunch up around the ball. As players learn more, they stick to their positions but still have the goal of being the next person to receive the ball. That means they try to get open for a pass from the player currently in possession.

That’s only desirable for the players closest to the ball. It’s not what players elsewhere should be doing.

The remaining players should provide an option for the second pass. They must look at the 2-3 players most likely to receive the ball next, and position themselves to be open for a pass from these players.

For example, if the left-wing midfield is in possession of the ball, the left striker and left-center midfielder will provide immediate passing options.

What will the recipient of the first pass do once he gets the ball? He needs an option for a second pass.

The right-center midfielder and the right wing strikers should provide second pass options when the left-wing mid still has the ball. That will create more space than waiting for the first pass to happen and then providing passing options to the new ball carrier.

If you think about the general rule that easy passes are to be preferred, this second pass idea is quite logical. Players furthest from the ball are the hardest to pass to, so they’re wasting their energy creating options for players on the other side of the field. They can better conserve their energy and enable faster ball movement by providing second pass options.

Hiking through the Golan, my friends and I exited the thick underbrush and found ourselves staring, gaping out at a gorgeous vista of green mountains flanking a valley carpeted with pink blossoms, three years ago. The beauty stuck with me, and was one of the things I thought about when I returned home to Montreal after the trip, having made the decision to live in Israel. It was part of my Birthright trip, the free getting-acquainted tour of Israel given by the Jewish Diaspora community to its youth.

Another memory which I hold dear from that trip was my 20th birthday.

We were visiting the Bedouins that night, whose warm hospitality featured a picturesque dinner and delicious coffee (which surprised me, since I hate coffee) accompanied by traditional Bedouin music evocative of long camel caravans in the Negev desert. After wrapping up dessert, I asked my tripmates for a birthday present. (I’d only spent 4 days in Israel and was already acquiring Israel’s famous chutzpah. )

When we first got here, I reminded my tripmates, we visited Independence Hall, in Tel-Aviv. Independence Hall, for those who don’t know, is where David Ben-Gurion declared the State of Israel independent even as the Arab armies around were invading, howitzers and long artillery cannons ablazing.

When we’d visited Independence Hall on the first day of our Birthright trip, we saw a short clip on the history of the state and then our tour guide described to us the rich history of the place.

Then we went downstairs and the audio recording of Ben Gurion’s declaration began to play. “Anu machrizim bezot! Al hakamat medina yehudit be’eretz Israel, hi medinat Israel…”

When he finished, the audio continued and we heard a band playing Hatikva, Israel’s national anthem. I began singing, but most of the others were feeling shy that first day, and so what came out was just about the lamest rendition of Hatikva you ever heard. With 40-odd healthy young adults, we barely got above a murmur (including myself, because after seeing others hesitant to sing, I didn’t raise my voice more than necessary). Had we been in a library, the librarians would have lauded us on our good behaviour. It was pathetic.

So that night in the Bedouin camps, sitting amongst the colourful rugs and decorations, I asked the 40 tripmates, madrichim and soldiers who’d joined us from the IDF for a birthday present. Would they, I asked, sing Hatikva with me outside under the stars?

They would indeed, and I can’t begin to describe the energy in that group. We exited the tents so we could stand fully upright, and then we began singing. Or perhaps screaming is the better word. We belted out Hatikva and a bunch of other songs. You could see and feel the pride in people’s demeanour, dancing, and evidently our decibel level. It was honestly the most beautiful, moving birthday present I’ve ever been given.

Today

As of this writing, I’ve completed the credits I need to graduate from university. Convocation should happen in a few weeks. So I’ve completed the main obstacle in the way of my making Aliyah, and am registered to fly to Israel with Nefesh B’Nefesh Dec 28-Dec 29th.

Since telling my family, friends and acquaintances about the decision, I’ve often been asked what motivated me to go. And I admitted that while it was initially a largely emotional pull, there are also lots of logical reasons I’ve found that justify the decision. Being an ardent Zionist and a  Jewish Agency wannabe (JAW), those chats often involve a tangent where I’m encouraging all these people to make Aliyah, too.

One of the main objections I regularly here is that people are afraid that they’ll have a hard time earning a living once they move. More specifically, people generally have a view that it’s harder to make a living there than it is outside Israel, with the image of professionals  going there to become minimum-wage security guards and janitors a common concern.

Being the vocal JAW that I am, I wanted to prepare a D’var Torah about aliyah to share in my synagogue, before I go. And I thought I’d address that concern by asking Rabbi Ido Tauber, of Kollel Torah Mitzion, to point out some sources to the effect that G’ will help you find a job and make ends meet without descending into poverty. “Can you find me some verses or commentaries that say ‘Make aliyah and, if you need, G’ will cover your social security and unemployment insurance?”

While he was able to point out some items about our forefathers (footnote 1), Rabbi Tauber reframed the issue. While I was looking for some logical persuasion sourced in religious texts, he made the argument for aliyah in a more powerful way – an emotional way. He said that it may be the case that on a purchasing power comparison, the Israeli middle class can’t purchase as much as comparable members of the Canadian middle class. But the question is whether that is what matters.

How do you as a Jew want to live your life?

Should your vacation time be an irrelevant break in the middle of winter? Or should it be having Sukkot off to go camping with your family?

Will your work week be Monday-Friday with a difficult time begging the boss to let you out early Fridays? Or will it be Sunday to Thursday, and optionally Friday morning?

Are you going to work in a place where you’re not comfortable wearing your kippa, because it may affect your career opportunities? Or will your CEO pray in the same synagogue as you?

Will your kids feel peer pressure from people who decorate Christmas trees or people who eat latkes?

Are your kids’ toughest teenage dilemmas going to be about rejection from a desired Army unit or rejection by a club bouncer? What maturity do you wish for them as young adults?

What choice will you make?

Footnotes

1. “Lekh Lekha” – G’s commandment to Abraham to move to Israel, is famously explained by Rashi and others as being for Abraham’s own benefit. Moving would allow him to have children, which wasn’t the case outside of Israel. And in that day and age, children were one’s RRSP and 401(k).

Similarly, Potiphar’s wife tried to seduce Yossef. He refused – doing the right thing – and eventually prospered. But he knew that Egypt was merely a temporary place of sojourn for the Jews, so he commanded his descendants to bring his bones with them to Israel when they’d eventually leave Egypt.

Of course, this only comes up now, when it’s convenient to the Great Powers to try the Libyan despot.

Not that I think he’s an angel and shouldn’t be tried for his crimes… but the timing of this coming up is evidence that international “law” is merely the tool of the powerful.

Why does it suddenly matter that Khadafi’s a thug? Because he’s at war with the UK and France.

It’s convenient for the story-telling that the UK and France are fighting a bad guy [which is true]. But it’s holy bullshit that International Law has the legitimacy to prosecute him because International Law tolerated his crimes while he managed to run his country with a measure of stability.

Heck, don’t you guys remember that the UK released a Libyan terrorist involved in the Lockerbie bombings to mollify Khadafi?

At the time the UK was “primarily motivated by a desire to build on previous success in normalising relations with Libya and to safeguard the substantial gains made in recent years, and specifically to avoid harm to UK nationals, to British commercial interests and to co-operation on security issues.” – BBC

Remind me when that upcoming trial date is for Vladimir Putin?*

*See former KGB/FSB defector Alexander Litvinenko’s account: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blowing_Up_Russia:_Terror_from_Within. There’s a reason Litvinenko was killed with plutonium, a not exactly common substance…