Continuing on from last week. The point of this particular newsletter is to write a few short pieces o the Parsha which reflect what I was learning this week. This week the topics of it will be vows, the ritual impurity of the dead, the consequences of war on society, building memorials, trusting people, lying to Pharoah, and cities of refuge. As always, let me know what you think.
There are two types of vows in the Torah, a Neder and Shevuah. A neder mostly refers to a vow designating a particular object as either a sacrifice or belonging to the Temple or forbidden to the person making the vow in some way (classically, he can’t eat it or he can’t derive benefit from it). A shvuah is classically a vow to do something or a testimonial oath sworn in court. In our parsha, Rashi and Ramban disagree about whether a neder can take the form of a vow either to do an action (for example, to eat something) or not to do something. In their commentaries on Bamidbar chapter 30, verse 3, Rashi says that it can, and Ramban says that it can’t. The reason why this is important is that they seem to work based on very different mechanisms. Classically, a shvuah generates an individual obligation or prohibition, whereas a neder changes the very definition of reality. As such, breaking a shvuah is breaking your word, whereas violating a neder is more on the order or rebelling against the nature of the world. The Ramban seems to hint at this in his comments. Of course, both stand as a testament to the power of human words. One is the almost commonplace statement that we can obligate ourselves. However, the Torah attaches a very high level of severity to that obligation. The other stands for a more revolutionary statement that we can define our reality (obviously, this is more complicated than that on- liner and requires more exploration).
After returning from the war with Midyan, the Israelite soldiers were impure. Moshe and Elazar (Aharon’s successor as high priest) exit the camp to meet them outside and tell them that prior to the purifying procedure of the red heifer, they may not enter the camp. But why not? Normally someone who has been in contact with a dead body may enter the camp. They just can’t enter the sanctuary. Rashi explains that it is so that nobody will attempt to take from the spoils before they can be subdivided. Rashbam thinks it comes from a concern that they might enter the sanctuary while impure if they enter the camp. Presumably, the Israelites are not used to dealing with this class of impurity in the desert. These are very different reasons for this prohibition, which reflect different sensitivities about the many problems of war. One is that it can cause downstream issues even in a victorious society. The other is that the people involved need to undergo a process before social reintegration. Even a just and righteous war is difficult for all who participate. May Hashem keep all of us from knowing such things, and may the world contain only peace in the future.
Metal implements have a special place in the laws of purity and impurity. One of their rules is that they act as a void that the impurity of death can enter. In such a case, the one who touches the metal, even after it isn’t touching the body any more, is as one who touches the dead body directly. Rashi seems to say in the parsha that this applies while the metal is touching the dead body, it’s a function of the fact that it was used to kill someone. On the other hand, the Ramban explains that this is a different type of impurity. The debate has clear implications for how someone will become pure after touching the metal. For Rashi, they must be sprinkled with water mixed with ashes from the red heifer, whereas for Ramban they need only go to the mikveh.
How do we remember something good? After the war with Midyan ends so successfully, the commanders make a donation to thank Hashem for his protection. Ramban explains that the donation that they made was not just for the stores of the sanctuary. If that’s all it was, it would be admirable. However, the Torah says it was to be a “memorial for the children of Israel.” A memorial is something which is visible and a part of our lives. As such, they donated it to be made into vessels for the sanctuary. They wanted something lasting and useful for the community which would help everyone remember the miracle.
Why does the parsha of Matot begin with the laws of vows? Seemingly for two reasons. One is that it immediately follows the laws of sacrifices on the festivals. The Torah sets a deadline for the next festival to fulfil a donative vow. However, the second reason is the vow of the tribes of Gad and Reuven. Gad and Reuven asked in last week’s parsha to receive their inheritance on the eastern bank of the Jordan, where the land was more suitable for grazing as they had significant herds. Moshe made this conditional on them helping the rest of the children of Israel to conquer the land on the western bank. The fact that they had already received their inheritance did not exempt them from helping their brothers. I think that Moshe placed the laws of vows here to emphasise that the promise they made was binding.
Ramban makes a similar observation. He claims that the tribes on the easter bank were not allowed to fully settle the land there prior to the conquest of the west bank. They were allowed to build only de minimise settlements before leaving for the war. Should they not fulfil their vow, this would make it easy to move them to the western bank with the rest of the tribes.
However, perhaps he needn’t have worried. Rashi comments in chapter 32, verse 64, that not only did they help in the seven years of conquest. They actually stayed and help in the seven years of settlement afterwards. Perhaps they learned the lesson of national unity, even when we are physically separate.
One of the most famous questions asked about the Exodus is, “Why did Moshe lie to Pharoah and say that the Jews would only travel for three days in the desert?” The question seems reasonable. After all, Moshe certainly did not plan that the Jews would return to slavery! Mori VeRabbi HaRav Aharon Lichtenstein zt”l once exclaimed that he didn’t understand the question. Who cares if Moshe lied to Pharoah as part of his mission to save the Jews? Do we think that Pharoah was so deserving of the truth?
The Bechor Shor on this week’s Parsha offers a different perspective. He says that the Jews went bc to a place three days’ walk from Egypt called Pi HaChirot, the mouth of freedom, knowing that Pharoah would chase them with intent to kill them When he did that, he broke his side of the deal to let them go for three days, and so they could simply leave to freedom. This seems to be a classic case of the frog carrying the scorpion over the river. In the fable, the scorpion asks the frog for a lift to the other bank. The frog says no, fearing he will get stung. However,r scorpion assures him that he would never sting the frog. After all, that would kill the scorpion as well. He would drown! The frog agrees to carry the scorpion, and halfway across, the scorpion stings him. When the frog asks him why, the scorpion responds that he had to, for it is his nature to sting. It was in Pharoah’s nature to break promises and enslave the Jews. It was predictable that he would not keep his word, so Moshe had no need to lie.
Finally, one of the most perplexing commandments of this week’s Parsha is to build cities of refuge for accidental killers. If someone kills another inadvertently, he can flee to a city of refuge. However, if he remains outside of that city, the relatives of the dead may exact revenge. Why does the Torah allow this? Shadal (Rabbi Shmuel David Luzzato) explains that it is a concession to the time that the Torah was given. At that time, vengeance was viewed as positive. The Torah did not want to encourage such wanton killing but found it difficult to control the urge in that historical context, so it created this compromise solution. Sometimes, when forced by human nature, the Torah allows for an unideal situation, but at least tries to give it a more refined form. According to SHadal, this is a classic example.
This actually reminds me of the law regarding injunctions. I.e. positive injunctions harder for a court to issue than negative injunctions. Same, in fact, with negative covenants.