Zecher L’Mikdash: Strolling Down Memory Lane

July 20th, 2009

הקלק כאן לגרסה בעברית

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In memory of Malkie Roth and Michal Raziel  לע”נ מלכי רוט ומיכל רזיאל הי”ד

Imagine if you will, what our lives would be like if the Beit Hamikdash were still in existence. Aside from the obvious geographic shift which would move the entire Jewish people to the land of Israel, all our rituals and rites would be Temple oriented. We wouldn’t merely read Parshat Shekalim, we would contribute to the fund, and we wouldn’t read Parshat Parah, we would be purified with the ashes of the red heifer. And most of all we would all bring sacrifices and partake of them. For example, the korban Pesach itself “al matzot umerorim“, together with the matza and bitter herbs, would replace the symbolic afikoman at the Seder table.

In all respects, the Temple would be the center of our religious life – our divine nerve center. No longer symbolic rituals, but rather the real thing!

And so it was, long ago and far away…

Now imagine the trauma of all of that taken out from under us. Suddenly there was no anchor; no spiritual or political leadership. That void required re-creating the religious life both of the individual and the collective. It called for leaders to work at developing alternate routes of spirituality. It challenged the rabbis to devise ways to keep Judaism vibrant in times of despair, to engage in acts which are known respectively as zecher l’mikdash (commemorating the Temple) and zecher l’churban (commemorating the Destruction).

Two great leaders – giants among the Tannaim- were Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai and his disciple Rabbi Yehoshua ben Hananiah, They blazed trails to help their people in real time. They are the trails which we continue to walk on to this very day. Let us stroll along with them down memory lane.

We begin with Rabban Yohannan ben Zakkai.

We have little biographical information about Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, the first century tanna and leading sage at the end of the Second Temple period and the years following the destruction. In a passage in Sifre Zot Haberachah 16 we are told that he, like Moshe, lived for 120 years, forty of which he spent in business, forty in study, and forty in teaching. It is from those last forty years that the Jewish people of his time and to this very day benefit.

We are told that Rabban Yohanan taught and expounded in the shadow of the Temple and in fact we have on record in Avot deRebbe Natan his eye witness account of the churban, at which point we are told that he rent his garments, took off his teffilin, and sat and wept together with his students. But Rabban Yohanan accepted his fate and that of his nation with great dignity which is evidenced by what he did in the wake of destruction. Let us visit with Rabban Yohanan and his student Yehoshua ben Hananiah as they stroll among the ruins of Yerushalayim.. This passage is from Avot deRebbe Natan, a midrashic commentary on Pirke Avot. It refers to the second mishna in the first chapter: Al shelosha devarim haolam omed. Al haTorah ve-al haavodah ve-al gemilut chassadim; The world stands on three things; on Torah, Divine service, and acts of loving-kindness.

Loving-kindness: as it says: “For I desire loving-kindness and not sacrifice” (Hoseah 6:6). From the beginning the world was created with loving-kindness as it says, “For I have said: the world is built by loving-kindness…”(Psalms 89:3). Once Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai was leaving Yerushalayim and Rabbi Yehoshua was walking after him and he saw the Temple destroyed. Rabbi Yehoshua said, Woe to us, that the place where Israel’s sins were atoned for is destroyed. He said to him, My son, do not be distraught. We have another manner of atonement instead of it, and it is loving-kindness, as it says: “For I desire loving-kindness and not sacrifice” (Avot deRebbe Natan 1:4)

What is reflected in the two approaches in this midrash? Rabbi Yehoshua expresses his despair. He is crushed not only by the lack of sacrifices and the disappearance of venue to atone for our sins; he also anticipates the long-range effects of the churban.

His Rebbe, Rabban Yohanan did not wish to disparage sacrifices. It was only in his desire to provide an opportunity to observe the Torah without a Temple that he ascribed the power of atonement to deeds of love – “al shelosha devarim haolam omed; al haTorah, ve-al haavoda ve-al gemilut chassadim” (Pirkei Avot 1:2)– there are three pillars upon which the world rests: Torah, service (sacrifices) and loving-kindness.

In addition, Rabban Yochanan sought ways to observe mitzvot irrespective of place or habits of the mind. He was a realist, a man who knew that new avenues of spirituality could and must be forged.

The realism of Rabban Yohanan is evidenced by way of his legal decisions which are recorded in Yerushalmi Avodah Zara 43b. With the proliferation of murders it was he who discontinued the practice of egla arufa, whereby an unaccounted murder is atoned for. With the proliferation of adulterers, he discontinued the practice of Sotah.

I would like to suggest that there is something more. He is teaching his student Rabbi Yehoshua to focus not on the effects, but rather on the cause of the churban- a lack of gemilut chassadim- so as not to repeat the mistake of history, and in addition, to rebuild the Mikdash in every home and every heart through chessed .

But it was more than realism which Rabban Yohanan exhibited; it was his optimism. In addition to the above episodes, we have legal texts which record Rabban Yohanan’s approach towards churban. In a series of Takkanot, decrees, Rabban Yohanan essentially established a group of precedents, motivated by his hope that mehera yibaneh hamikdash, the Temple would be rebuilt speedily. These decrees bear the collective name Zecher l’mikdash, commemoration of the Temple, and are found in Mishnah Rosh Hashana chapter 4:

If the holiday of Rosh Hashana fell on Shabbat, they would blow the shofar in the Temple but not in the rest of the country. After the destruction, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai decreed that they would blow the shofar in every town where there was a Beit Din. Rabbi Eliezer said, Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai decreed only about Yavneh. They said to him, This applies equally to Yavneh and to any town where there is a Beit Din. 2) Yerushalaim had an advantage over Yavneh, that every town where it was possible to see and hear and it was close and from which it was accessible, they would blow the shofar [on Shabbat]. But in Yavneh, they blew the shofar only in the Beit Din. 3) At first the lulav was shaken in the Temple seven days and in the rest of the country only one day. After the destruction, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai decreed that the lulav be shaken in the whole country seven days, zecher l’Mikdash, and that during the whole day of the waving [of the omer] the new grain should be prohibited. 4) At first, testimony regarding the new moon was accepted the whole day. Once, witnesses tarried, and the Levites were wrong in the daily hymn. They decreed that they would only accept testimony till the afternoon sacrifice, and if witnesses came later, both that day and the next were sanctified. After the destruction, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai decreed that they would accept testimony regarding the new moon all day.

Rabban Yohanan and his constituency believed that although the Temple lay in ruins, it was simply a matter of time, perhaps 70 years, until the next Mikdash would be built. With this hope in mind, Rabban Yohanan felt the need to legislate in such a way as to keep the Mikdash and its customs alive.

Perhaps the most powerful demonstration of the realism and eternal optimism of Rabban Yohanan is in the most famous story about him, that of his daring request from the Roman Emperor to establish a Yeshiva in Yavneh to perpetuate Torah. Judaism must go on, if not in the Temple in Jerusalem, then in the academy in Yavneh.

But if you recall, Rabban Yohanan is accompanied on his stroll by Rabbi Yehoshua, one of his five most outstanding pupils. It was Rabbi Yehoshua who was overcome by grief at the sight of the destroyed altar. How did he deal with the churban?

In a charming account in Genesis Rabba 64:10, Rabbi Yehoshua attempts to pacify an enraged crowd on the verge of rebellion due to the rescinded permission by Hadrian to rebuild the Beit HaMikdash. Rabbi Yehoshua gathers the group at Beit Rimmon and employs the famous fable of the crane that had extracted a thorn from the throat of a lion, and upon demanding his reward, was told by the lion, “be satisfied that I allowed you to live”. Rabbi Yehoshua was himself a realist. This passage in Baba Batra gives us the full account of his reaction to the churban:

Our Rabbis taught: When the Temple was destroyed for the second time, large numbers in Israel became ascetics, binding themselves neither to eat meat nor to drink wine. Rabbi Yehoshua got into conversation with them and said to them: My sons, why do you not eat meat nor drink wine? They replied: Shall we eat flesh which used to be brought as an offering on the altar, now that this altar is in abeyance? Shall we drink wine which used to be poured as a libation on the altar, but now no longer? He said to them: If that is so, we should not eat bread either, because the meal offerings have ceased. They said: [That is so, and] we can manage with fruit. We should not eat fruit either, [he said,] because there is no longer an offering of first fruits. Then we can manage with other fruits [they said]. But, [he said,] we should not drink water, because there is no longer any ceremony of the pouring of water. To this they could find no answer, so he said to them: My sons, come and listen to me. Not to mourn at all is impossible, because the blow has fallen. To mourn overmuch is also impossible, because we do not impose on the community a hardship which the majority cannot endure, as it is written, “Ye are cursed with a curse, yet ye rob me [of the tithe], even this whole nation.”(Malachi 3:9) The Sages therefore have ordained thus: A man may stucco his house, but he should leave a little bare…. A man can prepare a full-course banquet, but he should leave out an item or two…. A woman can put on all her ornaments, but leave off one or two…. For so it says, “If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth if I remember thee not, if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy”.(Psalms 137:5-6) What is meant by ‘my chief joy’? R. Isaac said: This is symbolised by the burnt ashes which we place on the head of a bridegroom. (Baba Batra 60b)

Consider the responses recorded in this Talmudic passage. The text informs us of a group of ascetics which emerges post destruction. Why might asceticism be a natural reaction to churban? One explanation might be that it is a constant reminder of the churban, a continual punishment for the survivors. Another explanation might be a recoiling from the physical world after seeing its excesses, and a desire to aspire toward more spirituality. If we survey other models of ascetics it may become clearer.

Take for example, the nazarite. There is rabbinic adage which says “Ha-roeh sotah b’kilkula yazeer atzmo min hayayin”, he who sees a wayward woman in her disgrace should refrain from drinking wine. He is drawn to asceticism as a compensatory device having seen what the Sotah’s physical indulgence drove her to. The other biblical model is recorded in Jeremiah 35 where we learn of the Rehabites, a group of people who neither drink wine nor live in permanent dwellings. Jeremiah, in his classic style, invited the people of Judea to a Rehabite performance on the Temple mount. At that point he offers them wine and they refuse, insisting that their father Jonadav ben Rechav forbade them to imbibe. Jeremiah, taking advantage of his captive audience, now turns to his constituency and says, “They listen to their father, why do you not listen to your Father who Art in Heaven”. Why did this sect turn to asceticism? We can only conjecture. Jonadav is mentioned one other time in the Bible in II Kings10:15. There we are told that he was involved in the crusade against the house of Ahab and Baal worship. Could it be that all of the bloodshed led him to seek spirituality through self denial and withdrawal from the physical world? The Essenes are yet another example of a sect of ascetics who sought to set themselves apart.

In our passage Rabbi Yehoshua wisely through reductio ad absurdum concludes that they have overdone it. But, he may be saying something even more profound; namely, that if they break away and form a sectarian group which differs from the rest, they are only encouraging the very factionalism which brought about the churban. Therefore, the Gemara lists those actions which were instated (presumably by Rabbi Yehoshua) as zecher l’churban, commemorations of the destruction; leaving a wall unpainted, leaving out one course at festive meals, leaving out one piece of jewelry, and ashes on the forehead of the groom at his wedding – food, clothing, shelter and semachot are affected by our sadness. The Talmudic passage ends with Rabbi Yishmael (one of the ten martyrs) who returns to the original contention that we should mourn excessively, but that by doing so we would exclude the masses who are incapable of such hardships and would find themselves deliberately transgressing.

Unlike Rabban Yohanan, Rabbi Yehoshua, who lives later and sees the hope of rebuilding the Temple moving farther and farther into the future, institutes not zecher l’mikdash, but zecher l’churban, symbolic acts which allow us to continue our lives, while surrounded by constant reminders. The pain of the churban cannot be eliminated and it is incumbent upon us to mourn..

It is this pain which our sensitive Rabbi Yehoshua experiences as he again strolls, this time with his students and colleagues Rabban Gamliel, Rabbi Elazar ben Azaria, and Rabbi Akiva, in the streets of Jerusalem.

Once they were ascending to Yerushalaim and when they arrived at Zofim, they rent their clothes. When they arrived at the Temple Mount, they saw a jackal leaving the site of the Holy of Holies. They all started crying, but Rabbi Akiva laughed. They said, Akiva, you always amaze us. We cry and you laugh. He said to them,Why do you cry? They said to him, How can we not cry. The place about which it says “any outsider who approaches shall be put to death” (Bemidbar 1:51) and now a jackal emerges from it. About this it says, “On Mount Zion which lies desolate, jackals prowl over it.” (Eicha 5:18) He said to them, Even I laugh about this, as it says, “and I call reliable witnesses, the priest Uriah and Zecharia son of Yeverechia, to witness for Me”. (Isaiah 8:2) And what does Uriah have to do with Zecharia? Uriah was in the first Temple and Zecharia in the second Temple. But Uriah said, “Thus said the Lord of Hosts, Zion shall be plowed as a field, and Yerushalayim shall become heaps of ruins.” (Jeremiah 26:18) and Zecharia said, “There shall yet be old men and women in the squares of Yerushalaim, each with a staff in hand because of their great age”. (Zecharia 8:4) and afterwards it says, “And the squares of the city shall be crowded with boys and girls playing in the squares.” (Zecharia 8:5) The Holy One Blessed Be He has said, here are these two witnesses, and if the words of Uriah are fulfilled, the words of Zecharia will be fulfilled. And if the words of Uriah are cancelled, the words of Zecharia will be cancelled. I rejoiced that the words of Uriah were fulfilled, and in the end the words of Zecharia will be fulfilled. They said to him, Akiva, you have comforted us. May you be comforted by the footsteps of the Messiah. (Eicha Rabba 5:18)

Rabbi Akiva, Rabban Gamliel, Rabbi Elazar ben Azaria, and Rabbi Yehoshua were walking in the old city and were reduced to uncontrollable tears at the sight of a jackal roaming in the ruins of the Temple. But while his colleagues were beside themselves with grief, Rabbi Akiva laughed. They were taken aback by Akiva’s reaction and questioned its propriety. He then pointed out that since this tragedy had been prophesied and fulfilled, so too, the prophesy of the rebuilding of the Temple would soon to be fulfilled.

It was Rabban Yohanan who kept the memory of the Beit HaMikdash alive, Rabbi Yehoshua who made sure we felt the pain, but in this midrashic anecdote, it is Rabbi Yehoshua’s student Rabbi Akiva whose faith and hope inspire us to see beyond the destruction, to the rebuilding of the Temple. Rabbi Akiva heard above the weeping- the footsteps of the Messiah.

admin Jewish calendar

Speak Softly But Carry A Big Stick

July 2nd, 2009

Moshe and the Dynamics of Leadership

Parshat Chukat

(Originally written in 5761/2001)

The mountains of Midian: The desert sun blazes and the hot winds blow as Moshe, the shepherd, follows his sheep into the wilderness. There, alone on the dunes, he hears a piercing voice from within a bush asking him a simple question, “What is that in your hand”? Mazeh beyadecha?”, to which he replies, “my shepherd’s crook – my staff”-”matteh“. All at once God commands him to cast his staff upon the ground, and to his utter astonishment, it is transformed into a snake, and even more surprisingly, back into a lifeless piece of wood.

“What is that in your hand?” It is this question which will reverberate throughout the life of Moshe, as he takes his shepherd’s staff to perform, first the wonders, then the plagues, to split the sea, to vanquish Amalek, and ultimately to strike the rock. Mazeh beyadehcha, what is that in your hand? Let us examine together this and other biblical texts in an effort to understand what was this instrument in the hand of Moshe, and what was its role in determining the ultimate destiny of the Jewish people.

Our initial encounter is in Exodus chapter four. The matteh is the instrument through which the first of the otot, the signs, is performed.

But Moshe spoke up and said, “What if they do not believe me and do not listen to me, but say: the Lord did not appear to you?” The Lord said to him, “What is that in your hand?” And he replied, “a staff.” He said, “Cast it on the ground.” He cast it on the ground and it became a snake; and Moshe recoiled from it. Then the Lord said to Moshe, “Put out your hand and grasp it by the tail.” – he put out his hand and seized it and it became a staff in his hand – “that they may believe that the Lord, the God of their fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, did appear to you.” (Exodus 4:1-5)

The commentators question the meaning and purpose of this sign. By and large they appreciate the significance of the snake and not the staff.

Rabbi Yosef Bekhor Shor comes up with a fascinating literary illusion. The snake represents the primordial snake from the Garden of Eden. It was the snake who through his wiliness brought about all toil and suffering in the world. Therefore, the Hebrews will realize that it is their toil and suffering which is being addressed by God who will undo their fate. Another exegetical resolution is found in Abarbanel’s commentary. He interprets the snake as a symbol of the wily Pharaoh who is destined to become as ineffectual and powerless as the rod.

Modern exegetes such as Cassuto attempt to find relevance in the ot vis a vis ancient Egypt. And in fact when Moshe does perform this sign before Pharaoh, the magicians are capable of a similar feat but are ultimately undone by Moshe and Aaron.

But what may be perhaps an obvious but convincing interpretation is offered by Rabbi Obadiah Sforno. The staff is lifeless, and the hand (the second sign- Shmot 4:6-7) is alive. God deals death and gives life (memit umichayeh) and so he kills (makes leprous) the hand, and breathes life into the rod. Sforno’s innovative interpretation affords major significance to the lifeless rod and less to the snake.

And so it is that after all of Moshe’s objections, the Lord commands him, “Veet hamatteh hazeh tikach beyadecha asher taaseh bo et haotot. And take with you this staff, with which you shall perform the signs.” (Exodus 4:17)

The dynamism of the staff as an agent of divine signs has been demonstrated, but in truth the power of the staff is not only in its transformative power, but in its very presence. In Hebrew the word nes has two meanings. It of course means miracle, but it also means banner or ensign. It is clear that the matteh with which the nissim are to be performed is in and of itself a nes, an ensign, which imparts important meta messages to all who lay eyes upon it.

The reknowned Spanish exegete Rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra makes the following observation: “…Vehu natan lo benimtza imo tamid ki matehu mishanto keminhag hazaken, ki derech roeh lo ba el par’oh.” “He gave him [a sign] that would be available always, for his matteh was his walking stick, according to the custom of the elders, because he could not approach Pharaoh as a shepherd.” (Ibn Ezra commentary to Exodus 4:2) For Ibn Ezra, the rod is not a shepherd’s crook since it is not befitting for a shepherd to have audience with the king (See Esther 5:1) but rather the elder statesman, the zaken, the 80 year old Moshe, entered with his walking stick which he carried with him always.

I beg to differ with Ibn Ezra on this point. It is my feeling that it is precisely the shepherd’s staff with which Moshe met Pharaoh – a simple staff which carried with it powerful messages. More than merely a utensil for leading the flocks, the matteh was an active anti-Egyptian statement – Ki toevat Mitzraim kol roeh tzoan – for all shepherds are abhorrent to Egyptians (Bereshit 46:34). Moshe as a shepherd will appear before Pharaoh and hence implicitly denounce Egyptian culture. As a shepherd he reverts to his cultural anscestry – kalat derech avot- he is following in the footsteps of the patriarchs. This gives additional impact to the lifeless rod which becomes an etz chayim in the sense of a way of life.

But there is an additional dimension as well. The rod in ancient Egypt was the symbol of royal authority and power. The snake, the uraeus, represented the patron cobra goddess of Lower Egypt. It was worn over the forehead on the headdress of the pharaohs and on the top of the scepter as emblematic of divinely protected sovereignty, and it served as a menacing symbol of death dealt to the enemies of the crown. The staff in the hand of Moshe is indeed the counter symbol to the one held by the Pharaoh.

The rabbis argue that the matteh was no ordinary stick but one with a long and glorious history. In the well known Mishna in Avot 5:8, we are told that the staff was one of the ten wondrous things created during creation at dusk of the sixth day.

Ten things were created at twilight on the eve of the Shabbat. And they were: the mouth of the earth, and the opening of the well, and the mouth of the donkey, and the rainbow, and the manna, and the staff, and the shamir, and the writing script, and the manner of writing, and the tablets [of the Commandments]…

The rabbis are grappling with the philosophical question of how supernatural events, miracles, can take place within the natural order. All of the items listed are explained in consonance with the theological principle of nes bederech hateva – miracles which conform to the natural order. These creations got in just under the wire during that first week of creation at dusk bein hashemashot; hence they are indeed nissim bederech hateva, miracles which conform to the natural order. This is the rabbinic way of including miracles within the confines of nature. One of the items on this list of the top ten is of course our matteh. Thus the rabbis struck a balance between the nes and the nissim of the matteh.

But a far more fantastic discussion of the matteh is found in the medieval midrash known as Vayosha. There the matteh is described as having been given by God to Adam, then handed down through the generations from patriarch to patriarch, and finally stolen by Yitro, an advisor in the Egyptian court, after Joseph’s death. Yitro planted the matteh in his garden where it flowered and bore almonds. When the time came to marry off his daughter, Yitro devised a test whereby eligible suitors would be required to uproot the matteh in order to win the bride. When Moshe, after helping the daughters of Yitro at the well, was invited to their home, he became interested in Zipporah and of course was told about the matteh, whereupon he simply proceeded to the garden and uprooted it. Overwhelmed, Yitro immediately turned pale realizing that this man must be the one who the magicians had predicted would destroy Egypt. Remember that Yitro according to the Rabbis was a prominent Egyptian advisor. So rather than giving Moshe his daughter, Yitro threw him into the dungeon. (In laws have always been in laws.) Zipporah secretly sustained Moshe for seven years until he was released.

In addition to the King Arthur motif, this Midrash describes our matteh as being divinely inscribed with the ineffable name of God and the initials of the ten plagues dezach adash beachav. There may be a play on words here between otot (signs) and otiot (letters).

What this midrashic text establishes is that the sacred origin and divine power of the matteh was implanted within it from the very beginning of time. Moreover, the midrash transforms the Almighty’s query. Mazeh beyadecha is not just an identification issue but rather more like: Oh my, look what you have in your hand – is that what I think it is?

And so it is this matteh which Moshe takes with him to Egypt to perform the makkot, the ten plagues. In the context of the plagues he employs it as a pointer, a baton to mark the onset of a plague. In makkat dam G-d tells him, “vehamatteh asher nehepach lenachas tekach belyadecha” “and take the staff which was transformed into a snake in your hand”, (Exodus 7:15) strike the waters and transform them into blood. The same technique is utilized for zefardeya, kinnim, barad, arbeh, and choshech. For Moshe, his staff becomes his tool, his trademark. But how did the people perceive of this mythical and magical matteh?

At what may perhaps be the ultimate moment of tension in our narrative, (Veal hayam laku chamishim umatayim makkot- At the sea they were smitten with two hundred fifty plagues (Passover Haggadah)) G-d is compelled to clearly define the role of the staff for the children of Israel.

The Israelites are surrounded, the Egyptians are on their heels and the sea is roaring in front of them. At that moment God says to Moshe, “Veattah Harem et maticha uniteh et yadicha al hayam uv’kaehu vayavou Bnei Yisrael betoch hayam bayabasha. The verse simply translates: “And lift up your rod and hold out your arm over the sea and split it, so that the Israelites may march into the sea on dry ground”. But Bachya offers an innovative twist. (commentary to Exodus 14:16.)

We should not understand this verse to mean that he should lift up his rod over the sea, since it only says “And Moshe held out his arm over the sea” (Exodus 14:21) but the meaning of “lift up your rod” is to remove it from his hand because those of little faith among Israel said that Moshe’s hand has no power to split the sea, but only with the power of the staff in his hand. Therefore it says “lift up your rod”- remove it from your hand.

Throughout the Exodus one might argue that Moshe Rabbenu maintained perspective. For him the matteh was the tool of his trade, but he had to constantly sharpen the focus for the children of Israel so that it would not become a magic wand in their eyes. Their belief in magic had to be transformed into belief in miracles, and their belief in Moshe into belief in the Almighty.

It was Moshe who could clarify the purpose of the matteh, but ultimately he himself would fall into the trap. Alas, there are those whose entire world is lost in one fateful hour. Such was the lot of Moshe when the answer to the question mazeh beyadecha, “what is in your hand?”, could be reformulated to “why did you take matters into your own hands?”

Forty years have passed. The promised land is within reach, but the people are worn and thirsty. This time God commands Moshe and Aharon,

You and your brother Aaron take the rod and assemble the community, and before their very eyes order the rock to yield its water. Thus you shall produce water for them from the rock and provide drink for the congregation and their beasts. Moshe took the rod from before the Lord as He had commanded him. Moshe and Aaron assembled the congregation in front of the rock and he said to them, “Listen you rebels shall we get water for you out of this rock?” And Moshe raised his hand and struck the rock twice with his rod. Out came copious water, and the community and their beasts drank. (Numbers 20:8-11)

The rest is history.

The matteh, Moshe’s trusty tool, did him in. What was it about striking the rock which was so reprehensible? The same action forty years earlier brought abundant water and no chagrin. In Parshat Beshalach the people are thirsty and God commands Moshe to strike the rock. Why in Chukat is this same action a federal crime? The attempts at resolving this mystery abound. Rabbenu Hannanel refuses to comment on this passage since he says that a perusal of the commentators who preceded him yields eighteen assorted sins of which Moshe was guilty. Not desirous to add to the list, he takes the fifth.

It seems likely that the key to unlocking the mystery of Merivah is indeed the matteh. The characters are the same, the situation identical, but the time and place have changed. In Parshat Beshalach Bnei Yisrael had just left Egypt. They were in Refidim, in the miracle mode, dependent for everything upon God’s glorious miracles. Now forty years have passed; they are about to enter the land of Israel and a change in orientation must take place. There will be no more manna, no more clouds to guide them, no more be’er, and no more matteh.

This is summarized beautifully in the commentaries of two relatively modern biblical exegetes Rabbi S.R. Hirsh and the Netziv in their commentaries to the story of Merivah.

Here they have arrived at the border of the promised land and a new era is opened before them. From now on the overt miracles of the desert will cease and instead of them there will be covert miracles in which God’s providence is hidden. This miracle was to be the transition to this new era and this was what it was to teach. Instead of the staff of Moshe in the desert, there will be the words of Moshe for eternity. (Hirsh, commentary to Numbers 20:11)

It is a well known custom of Israel when there is a draught to gather in public at one place, even when there is no Temple or place of sacrifices or presence of the Shechina, and the leader of the people says words of rebuke and then the whole assembly prays as it is enumerated in Massechet Taanit. And it was the desire of the Holy One Blessed be He that Moshe and Aaron would teach the people how to do this for all the generations in Eretz Yisrael and they would believe that even without the power of Moshe it is possible to act through the prayers of the public. Therefore God commanded them to gather the people by the rock and there the Shechina would be present, and there Moshe would tell the people the laws, and he would rebuke them, and then they would pray in public by the rock. (Netziv, commentary to Numbers 20:8)

The children of Israel are about to enter the land and a new era is about to begin. The overt miracles of the desert will cease. They will be replaced by the covert miracles, those in which God’s presence is subtle but sustained. This final chapter in the life of Moshe and Aharon was to be the transition from the matteh of Moshe to the word of Moshe, a transition which they were unable to make. The Netziv adds that the pedagogic value of the rock was lost. This was to be a lesson in successful aliyah. In the land of Israel water is brought about through collective prayer. The impact of recreating the events of Refidim with a different ending was to impress upon the Israelites the obsolescence of the matteh of Moshe. The assembly together would now become partners with the Almighty to perform covert miracles. God is Hamechdesh Betvuo Kol Yom Maasei Bereishit (morning prayers), renewing daily the miracles of nature and of nationhood.

What is that in your hand? “Umatteh elokim beyadi” (Exodus 17:9). Beyadi velo beyad Yeshoshua. The matteh according to the Rabbis was the exclusive provinence of Moshe.

The matteh will not cross the Jordan and neither will Moshe. The matteh will not be used to make the waters of the Jordan split. The collective action of the nation carrying the ark into their new land will bring about miracles. The matteh will not be raised to vanquish the people of Ai. Joshua will raise a kiddon, a spear, and wage a battle where Jews will die but will ultimately be victorious. The sun at Givon will stand still when Joshua speaks, not when he raises a matteh.

And the waters will not gush when the matteh strikes the rock, but rather rain will now fall when the prayers of the people of Israel are answered.

The entry into the land brings about a new phase in the life of the Jewish people. The modality of transition requires a new kind of leadership. They will now enter the phase of lo beesh, lo beruach and lo beraash. (I Kings 19:11-12) God will not be manifest through fire, wind and earthquakes. It is the phase of kol dimama daka, that still small voice, the small voice which replaced the big stick.

Fifty years of the Zionist state have taught the people of Israel that there is no more matteh, no instant miracles to intensify our dependence upon God. We have only the ongoing nissim nistarim of everyday life in Eretz Yisrael, a Jewish homeland filled with Jewish children and Jewish accomplishments to help us focus on the covert Divine leadership and to direct us to place our total trust in the the Shepherd of the flocks of Israel who, with his rod of rebuke and his staff of consolation, will lead us to greener pastures and calmer waters.

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