Parashat Tzav–Shabbat HaGadol: Matza and Leavened Bread in the Temple

Hebrew

Among the details of the sacrifices prescribed in Parashat Tzav there is point of connection point with the upcoming Passover holiday: matza.

The instructions related to the minha offering, which consists primarily of semolina flour, state: “What is left of it shall be eaten by Aaron and his sons; it shall be eaten as unleavened cakes, in the sacred precinct; they shall eat it in the enclosure of the Tent of Meeting. It shall not be baked with leaven; I have given it as their portion from My offerings by fire; it is most holy, like the purgation offering and the reparation offering” (Leviticus 6:9-10). The prohibition of leaven applies to all sacrifices except for two cases in which it is explicitly stated that leavened bread must be brought: on Shavuot (Lev. 23:17) and thanksgiving offerings (Lev 7:12-15). Even in these cases, the leavened bread was brought to the Temple but not placed on the altar.

Why is leavened bread unsuitable of being offered on the altar? First of all, I categorically reject the line of thought that compares leaven, “the residue of dough” to the evil inclination. The origin of this idea is apparently in the fact that until yeast was marketed as a separate product, in approximately 1870, all bread was sourdough bread that was leavened by a starter, a piece of dough saved from the previous batch. But that dough is not dirty, rather it is a prime medium for growing one of the wonders of nature: natural yeast.[1] If you add it (or its cousin, industrial yeast) to a mixture of flour and water (and preferably salt), you can produce a wide variety of breads. This requires knowledge, experience, talent and time. You can also add creativity and love.

Matza is the opposite. Baking halachic matza for Passover is subject to many limitations and conditions, but in principle, baking unleavened bread is a quick and simple process. Compared to baking leavened bread, it can also be seen as a process that was cut-off in the middle.[2]

And that’s exactly the point.

Most offerings are meant to express the person’s dependence on God. In relationship to God, every person is always a “work in progress.” Therefore, it is appropriate for the offering to be somehow incomplete. This is even more true of Passover, which takes us back to the beginning of our journey as a people. The newborn people is consumes the simplest bread, just as we feed infants semolina porridge.[3]

How are the Shavuot and thanksgiving offerings different?

These are moments when a person experiences, even if only for a limited time, a completed process. In the Torah, Shavuot marks the beginning of the season in which the farmers of the Land of Israel brought Bikkurim, first fruits, to the Temple. In the ripe fruit, human labor brings the potential of creation to fruition; therefore, it is appropriate for offering to include leavened bread, which combines ingredients from nature with human knowledge and effort.

The thanksgiving offering was also brought to mark the end of a process, one in which a person was rescued from a life-threatening situation. The thanksgiving sacrifice includes three types of bread: matzah, unleavened flatbread, and a loaf of fully risen bread. Together, they symbolize the journey from fear and despair to rescue and life. On this journey, it can be said that God has helped a person fully realize the potential of their efforts.

From this perspective, the first fruits and thanksgiving offering reflect each other. Both are intended to express the gratitude a person feels when a process has been successfully completed. Therefore, it is appropriate that they include leavened bread.

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[1] See also Shoshana Michael Zucker, “The Wonder of Bread Baking”

[2] This idea is developed at greater length by Rabbi Yoel Bin-Nun in Hebrew, with an abridged English version  

[3] For the relationship between feeding simple food to infants and the initial break with Egyptian culture, see Shoshana Michael Zucker, “Parashat Tetzaveh 5781: A Basket of Matzah.”

Parashat Ki Tisa: From Moses' Diary

Hebrew

I haven’t written for a few weeks because I’ve been insanely busy.

Consumed by situations more complex than I could have imagined.

When I was herding Jethro’s flock and stopped to see the burning bush that was not consumed, and heard a voice speaking from within the fire – a voice that could not be ignored – demanding that I go to Pharaoh in order to bring the Israelites out of Egypt, I was incredulous. How could I stand up to Pharaoh? How could slaves escape Egypt? Nothing like that had ever been done. The task was difficult but clear: I represented God and the Israelites, the good ones. We faced off against wicked Pharaoh. Both sides were stubborn. It took some time and Divine power was needed to tip the scale, but good won out and we left. After God saved us in the terrifying moment at the Reed Sea, I was sure that everything would now go smoothly until we reached the Promised Land. I was wrong.

Our water and food ran out. The miraculous solutions God provided were insufficient to remove slavery from the minds and hearts of the people. I began to realize that there was a long way to go. I hoped that the impressive revelation at Mount Sinai, the detailed laws for an orderly life once we reach the land, and the grand team-building project,[1] constructing the Tabernacle, would smooth the path. Again, I was disappointed.

The scene Moses
preferred not
to recount*

What happened? The Holy Blessed One summoned me to his “office” (if it may be said) to receive a protocol of everything that happened, plus all the laws and instructions, so that they would not be forgotten. That seemed reasonable. I entrusted Aaron and Hur with responsibility for minding the camp, without specifying when I would return. I had no idea how long it would take, not to mention that in the eyes of Heaven, a thousand years are like a single day.[2]
Time flew, the people lost patience, lost faith, and...
No, I don't want to repeat the details. You can read them in the protocol. 

I found myself caught between God, who was furious with jealousy, and God’s own people. In God’s wrath, God even threatened to destroy the people because they are so stiff-necked and stubborn. Suddenly, I discovered how much I loved them, despite all their shortcomings. I could not handle hearing those threats. So, "I grabbed the Holy Blessed One, as a person grabs a friend by the garment would, and said: Sovereign of the Universe, I will not let You be until You forgive and pardon them.”[3] God did indeed calm down, and repented of the evil that God had planned to do to the people (Exodus 32:14). A long process began, not only punishment and repentance on the part of the people, but also a new formulation of God’s attributes. The jealousy and demanding punishment highlighted at Sinai (20:5) were now replaced with mercy, graciousness and long-suffering forgiveness (34:6). Contrary to God’s initial understanding, God now forgave the people specifically because of their stiff-necked stubbornness (34:9).[4]

Tomorrow, I will continue my work judging the people. I hope that I will be able to follow God’s example, and implement a fair judging process that understands what has brought the person to this point, without eliminating accountability. Woe to a society that ignores accountability, and woe to a society whose judges do not see the unique person in front of them.

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[1] Thank you to Sally Ben-Moshe for that formulation, in the Hod veHadar parasha class.

[2] Psalm 90:4. Thanks to my study partner Reb Joni Brenner for pointing the relevance of the gap between heavenly and earthly time in this situation. 

[3]  Bavli Berakhot 32a with slight changes.

[4] As pointed out by Rabbi Ronald Price, in Divrei Halev: Thoughts of Rabbi Professor David Weiss Halivni on the Weekly Torah Portion; cf. Rabbi Shai Held, “Before and After the Flood: Or it All Depends on How You Look” in The Heart of Torah, vol. 1.

*Philip  De Vere, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Parashat Chayei Sarah: A Letter from Eliezer

Hebrew

Parashat Chayei Sarah: A Letter from Eliezer | 5786

Every person has a name given by God: image, likeness.

And given by their father and mother: “Dammesek” to recall their hometown Damascus, before the  war, captivity and slavery in the household of Terah in Ur.

Every person has a name given by their job: Rancher, sheep breeder and farm manager.

And that their employer gave him: “Eliezer” as a prayer that on his new adventure his God would help me.

Every person also has a journey: Ur of the Chaldeans, Haran, Nablus, Elon Moreh, Beit-El, the Negev, Egypt, Beit-El, Dan, Hebron, Gerar, Beersheba, Hebron. Back and forth, and back again: I followed Abraham, whose head was in heaven.
And I – with God’s help, thank God – earned a living, organized things and cared.

Every person has a name that has been forgotten.

Abraham buried his wife Sarah, looked at his son and understood that if Isaac remained alone the covenant, the promise of being “the father of a multitude of nations,” would die with him. He assigned the task to me, but forgot my name.

The servant swore. The servant took. The servant went. The servant prayed. The servant spoke to the damsel, but Dammesek Eliezer was absent.

Rebecca called me, “My lord” but did not ask for my name. For her, and for Laban, I was a “man” without a name.
The God of Abraham aided me and I was successful. We set out on the return journey.

Days passed in silence. One evening, as we neared our destination, Isaac went out to the field. We encountered him by chance.

Isaac and Rebecca met and married without a ceremony or a feast. Not even a word of thanks. Abraham, too, did not ask for a report, and did not express gratitude.

I was silenced, silent, invisible.

Not everyone has a name given by their death. When I died, my name was forgotten.

Please, do not forget Dammesek Eliezer. Remember that without my efforts, Jacob would not have been born, and the people of Israel would not exist.

And when you hear, reador remember Zelda’s words, take them to heart.

Every person has a name.

Every worker, every helper, every person – has a name, and deserves to be thanked for their work.

Please, I beg you

Dammesek Eliezer

ברכה, חסד ופדיון שבויים

ברכה, חסד ופדיון שבויים: יום כיפור תשפ"ו

English

כִּי־בַיּוֹם הַזֶּה יְכַפֵּר עֲלֵיכֶם לְטַהֵר אֶתְכֶם מִכֹּל חַטֹּאתֵיכֶם לִפְנֵי ה' תִּטְהָרוּ

(ויקרא טז:ל).

השורש כ-פ-ר מורה על כיסוי מגן, כמו הכפורת שכיסתה את ארון העדות במשכן או ציפוי הגופר שהגן על תיבת נח.  

כַּפָּרָה היא פעולה שמנטרלת את הקלקול בעולם שגרמו חטאינו, מעבר לפיצוי ישיר שהוא חלק מהתהליכי התשובה והסליחה. במקרא "כפרה" היא מעשה פולחני אשר פועל במישור שמימי. בארץ מתחת אין סיבה לחשוב שכַּפָּרָה אפשרית. ישנם דברים שאם נעשו אי-אפשר לתקנם. 

ובכל זאת, אנחנו כאן, ביום הכיפורים מבקשים כפרה.

איך נשיג כפרה בעולם ללא מקדש?   

הדרך מתחיל עם חזרה אל המקדש, לאו דווקא בלימוד הלכה אלא באגדתא (בבלי ברכות ז:א). כך סיפר רבי ישמעאל בן אלישע, שהיה כהן גדול:

פעם אחת נכנסתי לקודש הקדושים להקטיר קטורת וראיתי אכתריאל יה ה׳ צבאות יושב על כסא רם ונשא. 

 ואמר לי: "ישמעאל בני ברכני."

אמרתי לו: ״יְהִי רָצוֹן מִלְּפָנֶיךָ, שֶׁיִּכְבְּשׁוּ רַחֲמֶיךָ אֶת כַּעַסְךָ, וְיִגּוֹלּוּ רַחֲמֶיךָ עַל מִדּוֹתֶיךָ, וְתִתְנַהֵג עִם בָּנֶיךָ בְּמִדַּת הָרַחֲמִים, וְתִכָּנֵס לָהֶם לִפְנִים מִשּׁוּרַת הַדִּין״. 

וְנִעְנַע לִי בְּרֹאשׁוֹ. 

רבי ישמעאל נענה לבקשת הברכה עם תפילה. תפילה שמביעה מודעות שפולחן לבדו אינו מספיק לתקן את המעוות, ומצביעה על הצורך לאיזון בין דין ורחמים הנדרש כדי להבטיח את קיומו של העולם. בלי לשפוט לפנים משורת הדין, לא נזכה לשנה חדשה ולהזדמנות נוספת לרדוף את הצדק.  

אבל רבי ישמעאל לא בירך. איך הבן יכול לברך את האב? 

איך אדם, אפילו כהן גדול, יכול לברך את האל?

התשובה תלויה במשמעותו של השורש ב-ר-ך והפועל "לברך". מכל הרבדים שהועמסו על שורש זה במשך הדורות, אתמקד בזה המקראי. 

בימי הבריאה אלהים מברך את בריותיו בפוריות ובשגשוג. יותר מאוחר, כאשר אלהים ואברם נפגשים לראשונה, ה' מבטיח: "וַאֲבָרֶכְךָ וַאֲגַדְּלָה שְׁמֶךָ וֶהְיֵה בְּרָכָה. וַאֲבָרֲכָה מְבָרְכֶיךָ" (בראשית יב: ב-ג).

בבראשית רבה (לט: יא) רבִּי בֶּרֶכְיָה מסביר את מטרה, כאילו בשמו של הקב"ה: "עַד כָּאן הָיִיתִי זָקוּק לְבָרֵךְ אֶת עוֹלָמִי, מִכָּאן וָאֵילָךְ הֲרֵי הַבְּרָכוֹת מְסוּרוֹת לָךְ וַאֲבָרך את מי שאתה מְבָרְך. ז"א ה' מברך את אברם וממשיכי דרכו ומטיל עליו ועלינו את האחריות להעביר את טובו הלאה.

אכן אדם יכול לברך אחרים ולהטיב אתם מן המשאבים, הגשמיים והלא-גשמיים, אשר ברשותו. 

אך איך אדם יכול לברך את האל? איזה משאב נוכל להעניק ל-"מעין הברכות?"

הקושי לזהות דבר מה שבני-אדם יוכלו להעניק לקב"ה והתנגדות לרעיון כי האלוהים יכול להיות בעמדה של המקבל הסביל, גרם לפרשנים רבים לטעון כי "לברך" הוא דו-משמעי, ובעצם אין אדם יכול להעניק מטובו לאל אלא רק לשבח ולהודות.

הרב שמשון רפאל הירש (גרמניה, במאה ה-19) התנגד להם נמרצות:

אם האדם "מברך" את ה', הרי ה' הוא "ברוך", ואין מנוס מזה. אך למה נבקש מנוס? ברגע בו תלה ה' את קיום רצונו בארץ בבחירתו החופשית של האדם, הוא אמר לאדם: "ברכני!" קַדֵם את מטרותיי; עשה את מצוותָי; מלא את רצוני; ברך את מלאכתי שהשלמתה על הארץ תלויה בך! (על בראשית ט:כו).

אכן יש לנו משאב שנוכל להעניק ממנו לאלוהים ובכך לברך אותו: היכולת לפעול באופן ישיר בעולם הזה.

עמיתו הצעיר של הירש, הרב דוד צבי הופמן (בספרו על התפילה) מציין כי פסוק המפתח להבנת הדרכים בהם אדם מברך את ה' הוא: 

"וְעַתָּה יִשְׂרָאֵל מָה ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ שֹׁאֵל מֵעִמָּךְ כִּי אִם-לְיִרְאָה אֶת־ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ לָלֶכֶת בְּכָל-דְּרָכָיו וּלְאַהֲבָה אֹתוֹ וְלַעֲבֹד אֶת־ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ בְּכָל-לְבָבְךָ וּבְכָל-נַפְשֶׁךָ" (דברים י:יב). 

הפסוק משלב תכונות פנימיות, יראה ואהבה, עם מעשים, "ללכת בכל דרכיו."  ההליכה בדרכי ה', לפי חז"ל (בבלי סוטה יד:א), אינו אלא גמילות חסדים כמו להַלְבִּישׁ ערומים, לבַּקֵּר חולים ולנַחֵם אבלים, מעשים שהקב"ה עשה אצל אדם וחווה (אחרי שחטאו), אברהם ומשה. מאז הוא השאיר אותם לנו.

אכן נוכל לברך את היושב בכיסא רם ונישא ע"י פעילותינו כאן ועכשיו.

ר' הופמן גם מדגיש שברכה אינה "רק שאיפה אלא גם התחייבות..." בכל ברכה וכל מענה לאמירת "ברכו" אנחנו מקבלים על עצמנו לגמול חסדים אחד לשני.

איך זה מתחבר לשאלה בה התחלתי על כפרה בעולם ללא מקדש?   

אחת התשובות הראשונות לשאלה הזאת נִתְּנָה זמן קצר אחרי החורבן, כאשר רבן יוחנן בן זכאי יצא לטייל באזור ירושלים עם רבי יהושע. כשהם ראו את חורבות בית המקדש, רבי יהושע נזעק: "אוי לנו על זה שהוא חרב –מקום שמכפרים בו עונותיהם של ישראל." רבן יוחנן הרגיע אותו: "בני, אַל ירע לך. יש לנו כפרה אחרת שהיא כמותה ואיזה זה? - גמילות חסדים, שנאמר כי חסד חפצתי ולא זבח (הושע ו:ו)."(אבות דרבי נתן נוסח A פ"ד:ה).

אמירתו של רבן יוחנן בן זכאי הייתה מהפכנית. 

הנביאים, כולל הושע שרבן יוחנן מצטט, נזפו בעם על הסתמכותו על הפולחן הקורבנות לישועה גם בעת מלחמה, אבל זו לא הייתה הדעה השֹלטת כל עוד הבית היה קיים. 

אחרי החורבן, רבן יוחנן בן זכאי הוביל את שיקום העם ואימץ את העמדה שקראה תיגר על המוסכמות הקודמות. ברוח זו, וכדי להדגיש את חשיבותה של גמילות חסדים בתהליך הכפרה, חז"ל קבעו את דברי ישעיהו לקריאה ביום כיפור:

 הֲלוֹא זֶה צוֹם אֶבְחָרֵהוּ.... שַׁלַּח רְצוּצִים חׇפְשִׁים וְכׇל־מוֹטָה תְּנַתֵּקוּ: הֲלוֹא פָרֹס לָרָעֵב לַחְמֶךָ, וַעֲנִיִּים מְרוּדִים תָּבִיא בָיִת: כִּי-תִרְאֶה עָרֹם וְכִסִּיתוֹ, וּמִבְּשָׂרְךָ לֹא תִתְעַלָּם (נח:ו-ז).

המילים אמורים לטלטל: הצום והפולחן אינם מספיקים. 

ה' דורש מאתנו מעשים ששָׂמִים את מחסורו של האחר במרכז עניינינו. 

פתאום המשימה קשה הרבה יותר. הרי צום ופולחן מוגדרים היטב בהלכה. גם אם המעשים מאתגרים, הם מוגדרים ומוגבלים בזמן. הצרכים הלגיטימיים של אנשים הם עצומים, ומגוונים ואין סופיים. וגם יש חשש לרמאות. חז"ל היו מודעים לקשיים אלו ודנים בסדרי עדיפויות ורמה הבדיקה הנדרשת לפני שמעבירים כספי צדקה לזקק במקומות רבים. לדוגמא, בתלמוד בבלי בבא בתרא דף ט, רב הונא ורב יהודה מתווכחים מה יותר גרוע לאדם, הכאב של רעב או הביזיון שהוא מרגיש כאשר נאלץ להופיע בציבור ללא לבוש הולם. כל אחד מביא את הפסוק "פרס לרעב לחמך" לתמוך בטיעונים מבוססים על חוויות החיים לכאן ולכאן. הדיון הוא תלמודי ולא זה המעמד להתעמק בו. חשוב לציין שבאף מצב, הקושי לא פוטר אותנו מהחובה להיות נוכח עם אנשים בעת צערם ולהושיט יד לנזקק.

לסיום אני רוצה להפנות את תשומת ליבנו לעניין אחר בדיון על דרגות הסבל, בדף הקודם במסכת. בעברית ובקיצור:

על סמך מה חכמים טוענים שפדיון שבוים היא מצוה רבה? 

על פסוק מירמיהו המנבא את הגלות: "כֹּה־אָמַר ה' אֲשֶׁר לַמָּוֶת לַמָּוֶת, וַאֲשֶׁר לַחֶרֶב לַחֶרֶב, וַאֲשֶׁר לָרָעָב לָרָעָב, וַאֲשֶׁר לַשְּׁבִי לַשֶּׁבִי" (טו:ב). 

ואמר ר' יוחנן: כל המאוחר בפסוק זה קשה מחבירו. חֶרֶב קָשָׁה מִמָּוֶת, ורָעָב קָשֶׁה מֵחֶרֶב אבל שבי קשה מכולם שכולם נמצאים בו. 

כאשר למדנו את הסוגיה עם הרב ליונל לוי בסוף 2022, לא דמיינתי עד כמה המוות, החרב והרעב של השבי יהיו קרובים לחיינו וליבנו. היום אני רואה את פדיון שבוים, חזרתם של כל החטופים, כגמילות חסדים של החברה הישראלית, המפתח לכפרה שתאפשר תחילת השיקום. 

שתהיה זאת שנת חסד, שנת פדיון שבוים ושנת שלום בבית ובחוץ.

קהילת הוד והדר

Blessing, Loving Kindness and Freeing Captives: Yom Kippur 5786

Blessing, Loving Kindness and Freeing Captives: Yom Kippur 5786

Hebrew

For on this day atonement shall be made for you to purify you of all your sins; you shall be pure before the Eternal (Leviticus 16:30).

The Hebrew root meaning of kappara-atonement refers to a protective cover. Kappara is the effort to repair the breakdown in the world caused by our actions, beyond the compensation that is part of the process of repentance and forgiveness. Kappara is a ritual process that functions on a heavenly level. On earth, there is no reason to think such atonement possible. There are many things that cannot be repaired. Yet, here we are. It is Yom Kippur and we are asking for atonement.

How can we achieve atonement in the world without the Temple?

The path towards an answer begins with a return to a story told about the Temple:

Rabbi Ishmael ben Elisha, the High Priest reported:

Once, I entered the Holy of Holies to offer incense, and I saw Akatriel Ya, the Eternal of Hosts, seated upon a high and exalted throne.
He said to me: Ishmael, My son, ברכני‎ bless Me.
I said to Him: “May it be Your will that Your mercy overcome Your anger, may Your mercy prevail over Your [other] attributes, may You act toward Your children with the attribute of mercy, and may You enter before them beyond the letter of the law.”

[God] nodded His ‎head. ‎  (Babylonian Talmud, Berakhot 7a) ‎

Rabbi Ishmael responded to the request for a blessing with a prayer, one that expresses awareness that ritual alone is insufficient to achieve atonement. It also points to the need for balance between justice and mercy for ensuring our continued existence. Without merciful judgement that goes beyond the letter of the law, we might not survive and get another chance to pursue justice.

But did Rabbi Ishmael give a blessing? How can a child bless a parent?
How can person, even a high priest, bless God?

The answer depends on how we understand the word “ברך bless.” Of the many layers of meaning that have been loaded on it in Jewish tradition, I’ll focus on the biblical level. 

During creation, God blesses the creatures God has made, “Be fruitful and multiply.” Later, when God and Abram first meet, God promises: “I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you shall be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you” (Genesis 12:2-3). In Genesis Rabba (39:11) Rabbi Berechya (note his name) explained “God said, ‘Until now, I needed to bless my world, but from now on, I will bless those who you bless.” In other words, God blesses Abram, then gives him, and his descendants (us!), the responsibility of the sharing God’s bounty with others. 

Indeed, people can bless other people, and be beneficent with the resources, tangible and intangible, at their disposal. But how can a person bless God?

The difficulty in identifying something that people can give God, and opposition to the idea that God might be in the position of a passive recipient, led many commentators to contend that “ברך” has multiple meanings. People can offer God nothing but praise and thanksgiving.^[1]

Rabbi Samson Rafael Hirsch (Germany, 1808-1888) objected strongly to that position: 

If a person man is active in blessing God, then God must be ‎blessed in a passive sense, receiving a blessing from a person, one cannot get away from it. ‎And why should we try to get away from it? At the moment that God made the ‎fulfillment of God’s Will on earth dependent on the free decision of humans, God said to them‎, “Bless me!” Promote my goals, keep My commandments, do My will; bless my work because completion of it on earth depends on you” (commentary on Genesis 9:26).^[2]

Indeed, there is a resource that people can provide for God and thereby bless God: The ability to actively engage this world.

Hirsch’s younger colleague, Rabbi David Zvi Hoffman, notes that the key verse for understanding how people can bless God is, “And now, O Israel, what does the Eternal your God demand of you? Only this: to revere the Eternal your God, to walk only in God’s paths, to love God, and to serve the Eternal your God with all your heart and soul” (Deuteronomy 10:12). The verse combines inner traits, reverence and love, with action, “walking in God’s ways.” (Al Hatefillah)

According to the Talmud (Sotah 14a), walking in God’s ways is exemplified by dressing the naked, visiting the sick and burying the dead. These are acts that God did for the Adam and Eve (after they sinned), Abraham, and Moses but now leaves for us.
Indeed, we can bless God through our actions in this world.

Hoffman also emphasizes: “The blessing expresses not only an ambition but also a commitment‎.” When we recite a blessing or respond to Barekhu–Let us bless” we undertake to act with loving kindness to each other.

How does this relate to my initial question on achieving atonement in the world without the Temple?

One early answer to that question came immediately after the destruction when Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai was walking in Jerusalem with Rabbi Joshua. Upon seeing the Temple in ruins, Rabbi Joshua cried: “Oy, the Temple that atoned for the sins of Israel has been destroyed!” Rabban Yoḥanan comforted him saying, “Do not be dismayed. We have another form of atonement that is its equal, deeds of gemillut ḥasadim–loving kindness, as it is written: For I desire mercy and not sacrifice” (Hosea 6:6) (Avot D’Rabbi Natan A, 4:5).

Rabbi Yoḥanan’s declaration was revolutionary.
The prophets had berated the people for trusting on the Temple and sacrificial ritual for salvation even times of war, but theirs was not the dominant opinion while the Temple stood. After the destruction, Rabbi Yoḥanan, who led the people’s rehabilitation, adopted a position that challenged the previous consensus. In this spirit, and in order to stress the importance of gemillut ḥasadim in the process of atonement, the Rabbis chose to read a Haftarah from Isaiah on Yom Kippur:

Is not this the fast I (God) want? Free people from all who cruelly oppresses them, let the oppressed go free, break every chain, share your food with the hungry, take the homeless into your home. Clothe the naked when you see him. Do not ignore a needy relative” (Is. 58:6-7).  

This task is much more difficult. After all, there are clear procedures for fasting and ritual. Although challenging, they are defined and limited in time. People’s legitimate needs are enormous, diverse and endless. And there is also a fear of cheating. The Rabbis were aware of these difficulties and rabbinic literature preserves many discussions about setting priorities and the degree of inquiry required before transferring charitable funds to the needy. For example, on Bava Batra 9a, Rav Huna and Rav Yehuda argue about what is worse for a person, the pain of hunger or the humiliation of inadequate clothing. Each uses the verse from Isaiah quoted above to support arguments based on logic. In the many Talmudic discussions, the difficulty of “getting it right” never exempts us from the obligation to be present with people in times of trouble and lend a hand to those in need.

In conclusion, I would like to consider a prior point in the discussion ranking human suffering, on the previous page of the Talmud.

What is the source of the Sages’ claim that redeeming captives is a great mitzva? It is Jeremiah 15:2 concerning exile: “Thus said the Eternal: ‘those destined for death, [shall go] to death; those destined for the sword, to the sword; those destined for famine, to famine; those destined for captivity, to captivity.” Rabbi Yoḥanan said: “Each successive punishment in this verse is more severe than the previous one. The sword is worse than death [by plague] and famine is worse than the sword, but captivity is the worst of all, because it includes them all.”

When we studied this page with Rabbi Lionel Levy in late 2022, I never imagined how close the death, sword and hunger of captivity would be to our lives and hearts. Today, I consider the redemption of captives, the return of all the hostages, as an act of gemillut ḥasadim that Israeli society must accomplish; it is the key to the atonement that will enable the beginning of rehabilitation.

May it be a year of gemillut ḥasadim and redeeming captives, a year of peace at home and abroad.

Kehillat Hod veHadar, 2025

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^[1] This is why some prayerbooks translate “Baruch” as “praised” and Lev Shalem leaves it untranslated.

^[2] Note that he is commenting on Noah, meaning his words could be taken to apply to all of humanity.

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