Why Two Readings?

 

As sometimes happens, the Torah portions read in synagogues within Israel and those read in synagogues outside of Israel are scheduled to be out of sync for a while. So, for the coming weeks, I’ll be including comments on both scheduled readings.

 

In Israel, Behar

 

The Problem with Y-S-F

 

In this week’s Torah Reading, Moses gathers up the 70 elders of the people and stations them all around the Tent of Meeting (Num 11:24). Then God comes down in a cloud, and the divine spirit is transferred to the 70 elders. When the spirit rested on them, they begin to prophesy in ecstasy, and they did not… Did not what? Here is a problem.

 

The Hebrew text says they did not y-s-f-w. As is well known, the Hebrew writing system sometimes uses consonant letters to represent vowel sounds: vav (or waw) can stand for the vowel-sound u or o, the consonant heh can represent the sound ah (or sometimes o, as in shelomoh, Solomon), and so forth. The use of these and other consonants to represent vowels is done rather consistently for final vowels (for example, nafshi, “my soul”) but less consistently elsewhere in the word.  So, when the Torah says that the 70 elders prophesied and did not y-s-f-w, it could be saying they prophesied and did not continue (Heb. yasefu, from the root y-s-f), or it could mean the exact opposite: they prophesied and did not stop (yasufu, from the root s-w-f).

 

Which is right? Most modern translations understand the text to mean that the elders prophesied once, but then they did not continue—this in contrast to the two men mentioned next, Eldad and Medad, who remained in the camp and apparently did keep on prophesying. This is the understanding that appears in the early midrash Sifre on the book of Numbers (section 95), which was later restated by Rashi (“they prophesied only on that day”). Long before Sifre, the Septuagint translation of the Torah into Greek similarly rendered the phrase, and they did not continue.  On the other hand, in Onkelos’s Aramaic targum (translation) of the Torah, this verb appears as did not cease, and the same understanding occurs in the targum Pseudo-Jonathan and elsewhere; see also the discussion in the Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 17a.

 

So did they continue or didn’t they?

 

Interestingly, the same potential ambiguity surrounds the end of the story of Judah and Tamar in Genesis 38. Judah accuses his daughter-in-law Tamar of promiscuity, but then he himself turns out to have been the unwitting father of her child: Tamar is exonerated, and Judah did not y-s-f to have sexual relations with her. Here, Onkelos translates the text to mean that Judah did not continue to have relations with Tamar, and the same understanding is found in the Septuagint and virtually all ancient interpreters. According to the book of Jubilees (ca. 200 BCE), however, Judah was informed by angels that his sons had actually never consummated their consecutive marriages to Tamar; if so, one could conclude that in those pre-Sinai days, Judah did not cease to have relations with Tamar—they could be considered legally married. (Nevertheless, Jubilees says the opposite: Judah did not have further relations with Tamar.)

 

Perhaps the most striking y-s-f ambiguity comes in the Deuteronomy account of the Ten Commandments. There, the Torah reiterates the Ten Commandments and adds that God spoke these things “with a mighty sound/voice and did not y-s-f.” Does this mean that He did not cease speaking, or that He did not continue? As in the passage from this week’s reading, ancient interpreters were divided. Onkelos says He did not cease speaking, perhaps reflecting the fact that in Onkelos’ time, certain “heretics” claimed that the Ten Commandments, first promulgated in Exodus 20, had been the sum total of God’s speech. On the other hand, the Septuagint has the opposite: And He did not continue to speak in this loud voice, presumably suggesting that the public promulgation of laws at Mount Sinai ended with the Ten Commandments—the other laws were given to Moses to be passed on to the Israelites.

 

Which is right? Perhaps the best interpretation is one that preserves the ambiguity. According to Midrash Tanhuma (Yitro, 11), Moses was not the only prophet present at Mount Sinai: all those prophets who were yet to be born were also present there in spirit. “And not only the prophets,” the midrash continues, “but also all the sages who have [subsequently] come and who are yet to come [were there], as it says, ‘The Lord spoke these words to your whole congregation at the mountain [amidst the fire and the cloud and the deep darkness, a mighty voice that did not y-s-f].’” This means, according to the midrash, that there was truly only one great divine revelation in history, the one at Sinai, where all subsequent prophets and sages heard what they were to speak centuries later: it was thus the one-time revelation, “a mighty voice that did not continue.” At the same time, however, these later prophets and sages did go on to speak in subsequent centuries; in this sense God’s words at Mount Sinai were indeed “a mighty voice that did not cease.

 

Shabbat shalom!

 

Outside Israel, Emor

“Which You Proclaim”

 

Regular readers will recall that the procedure for determining the beginning of a month in the Hebrew calendar was somewhat involved (at least until the calendar was standardized, as it is today). Two reliable witnesses had to have spotted the new moon and testified to that effect before the rabbinic court. They were questioned separately to make sure that their testimony was correct, and the questioning could be difficult:

 

Rabban Gamliel used to keep diagrams depicting the [possible] shapes of the new moon on a writing-tablet and on the wall of his upper story. He would show them to non-experts [who came to testify] and ask: “Did it look like this, or like that?” Once it happened that two people came [to testify] and both said: “At daybreak we saw it in the east and in the evening in the west.” Rabbi Yoḥanan ben Nuri said: “They’re false witnesses!” But when they came to Yavneh, Rabban Gamliel accepted their testimony. (Mishnah, Rosh ha-Shanah, 2:8)

 

How could he? Their account of things was, on the face of it, an impossibility. But perhaps what they had seen at daybreak was merely a moon-shaped cloud, illuminated by the sun’s rays, whereas what they saw in the evening was indeed the new moon (where it should be). In any event, Rabban Gamliel accepted their testimony.

 

Another time, two witnesses came and said: “We saw it at the right time [that is, the evening of the 30th], but the next night [when it certainly should have been visible], it was not there,” yet Rabban Gamliel accepted their testimony. Rabbi Dosa ben Harkinas said, “They’re false witnesses. How can you testify about a woman that she has given birth, but then the next day, her belly is as swollen as ever?” Rabbi Joshua said: “I agree with you.” (Mishnah, Rosh ha-Shanah, 2:8-9)

 

Rabbi Joshua was certainly a great scholar, but Rabban Gamliel ruled the witnesses’ testimony valid. (The precise wording, and hence the order of these events, is disputed, but this need not detain us here.) Now, the month in question was Tishrei, the month in which Yom Kippur occurs, so a lot depended on who was right.

 

Rabban Gamliel sent word to Rabbi Joshua: “I hereby decree that you come to visit me carrying your walking-stick and money on the day on which Yom Kippur would have fallen according to your ruling.” Of course, carrying a walking stick or money on that most sacred day of the year was strictly forbidden. So Rabban Gamliel was saying, in effect, “Accept my ruling and demonstrate your acceptance by carrying these items on the day that would have been Yom Kippur if your ruling had been right.”

 

What should Rabbi Joshua do? Bow to Rabban Gamliel’s authority and accept his ruling, despite the logic of his own position? Or stick to his guns and say: “The truth is the truth, and I’m not changing my opinion for anyone, even you!” At this point, the Mishnah relates that Rabbi Akiva advised Rabbi Joshua to accept Rabban Gamliel’s ruling, since what he did was altogether proper. As proof, he cited a verse from this week’s Torah reading: “These are the [established] times of God, sacred convocations, which you shall announce” —since, Rabbi Akiva explained, “whether at the right time or not, these are the only festivals I have.”

 

This story is much discussed, since it involves important issues: rabbinic jurisprudence, the history of Judaism at a crucial moment in its development, subsequent relations between the various figures cited, and more. But it is also important to understand exactly what Rabbi Akiva was saying to to Rabbi Joshua. He cited that verse from this week’s reading, but stopped short of its last word, bemo‘adam “in their time.” Doesn’t the complete verse actually support the opposite argument, that the new moon—and any holy days that occur within it, such as Yom Kippur in Tishrei—must be marked bemo‘adam “in their proper time”? In fact, this same verse (in its complete form) had been cited a little bit earlier in the Mishnah (Rosh ha-Shanah 1:9) in precisely this sense.

 

It seems that that Rabbi Akiva was actually pointing to another feature of the biblical verse he was (partially) citing. Quite literally, the verse reads: “These are the [established] times of God, sacred convocations, which you shall announce them in their proper time”: Translators rightfully omit the “them” in this sentence—you don’t need it in English—but it’s right there in Hebrew, otam. But the same three letters used for the word otam, “them”—that is, the three Hebrew letters aleph, tav, and mem—could also be construed not as otam, but attem, “you.” In that case, Rabbi Akiva’s reading would be: “‘These are the [established] times of God, sacred convocations, which you shall announce’—whether you announce them at the proper time or not, I have no other [established] times but these.”

 

If so, here would be another, rather dramatic, instance of Judaism’s general principle of the “handoff” of authority from the divine to the human. In the same spirit, the declaration of Deut 30:12 to the effect that the Torah is not something inaccessible—it’s not “in heaven” (lo bashamayim hi)—should really be understood as “the Torah is no longer in heaven.” It certainly started out there, but it was subsequently brought down to earth in the interpretations and elaborations of Israel’s sages.

 

Shabbat shalom!