Rabbi Dov Kramer on the Parsha

Taking a Closer Look (Rabbi Dov Kramer)

“And you shall remember all of the way (i.e. road) that Hashem your G-d made you travel these forty years in the desert, in order to afflict you, to test you, to know what is in your heart, whether you will keep His commandments or not” (Devarim 8:2). The above translation follows the “k'ri,” the wording as it read; had I translated it according to the way it is written instead, the “k'siv,” there would be one slight difference: Instead of being His “commandments” (plural) that we are supposed to follow, it would be His “commandment” (singular), as the third to last word in the verse has no letter “yud,” but we “pretend” that there are six letters in the word instead of five, adding a “yud” before the last letter.

I could try suggesting a reason for this discrepancy. For example, even though the test is whether we will keep all of G-d's commandments (not just one), hence the added “yud,” since Rashi tells us that the crux of the test is whether we will do so without complaining, it is in essence this one commandment (not to complain) that is the focus of the verse. In order to teach us that we are being commanded (singular commandment) not to complain while keeping all of the commandments (plural), the Torah embedded both the singular and the plural forms into the same word.

However, rather than taking a closer look, this week I'd like to take a broader look, and discuss the very nature of “k'ri/k'siv.” Why are there words in the Torah (and throughout Tanach) that are written one way but are supposed to be read a different way? There are even instances where there is no word at all yet our tradition says to pretend a specific word is there and read the verse as if it contains that word, and instances where the text contains a word that our tradition says to skip when reading the verse. Why is this so, and how did these “discrepancies” get there?

As I alluded to above, it can be suggested that each version (the version we read and the version in the text) has something to add. The Malbim (Ayeles HaShachar #247) says that the way things are read (the “k'ri”) represents the plain meaning of the word/verse while the way it is written (the “k'siv”) represents its exegetical meaning. The Vilna Gaon (in his commentary to Mishlay 16:19) says that the “k'ri” usually reflects the “revealed” meaning while the “k'siv” reflects its “hidden” meaning. This approach can be applied to narrative as well. For example, Sefer Devarim is primarily the words Moshe spoke to the nation shortly before his death. When Moshe said these words, he either said commandment (singular) or commandments (plural), but could not have said both. Nevertheless, when G-d told Moshe to write down the words he (Moshe) spoke to the nation and include them in the Torah, He (G-d) could easily have told him to write the word in its singular form but pronounce it as if it's written in the plural form. And this is what the Talmud (Nedarim 37b) seems to say happened, as “[words] read but not written and [words] written but not read are “halacha l'Moshe mi'Sinai,” laws taught to Moshe at Sinai.

However, this is problematic, as these words were said by Moshe at Arvos Moav, 38+ years after the nation left Sinai; how could G-d tell Moshe at Sinai to write them down if they weren't said yet? (This issue applies to all of the narrative that occurred after they left Mt. Sinai.) But even if we want to “translate” the word “Sinai” liberally, and include any direct communication between G-d and Moshe (since there is no practical difference whether this communication took place atop Mt. Sinai, in the Mishkan while at Sinai, in the Mishkan at any of the stops along way, or in the Mishkan at Arvos Moav), calling it “halacha l'Moshe mi'Sinai” is still problematic. The examples the Talmud gives are from the books of Shemuel, Yirmiyah and Rus, all of which were written well after Moshe died! How could any “k'ri/k'siv” contained in them have been taught to Moshe?

Ben Yehoyada drives this point home (without discussing it) by saying that there was never a change in the text, as all of it, including how it should be written and how it should be read, was said to Moshe at Sinai, “and so it was with the verses of Nevi'im (Prophets) and Kesuvim (Writings); this was how it was revealed to us (i.e. with both the “k'ri” and the “k'siv”) by the prophets that wrote them.” How this qualifies as “halacha l'Moshe mi'Sinai” is not explained.

The Rosh (Hilchos Mikva'os 1, after Meseches Nidah) explains “halacha l'Moshe mi'Sinai” in a very non-literal way, understanding it to mean a law that is as clear (uncontested) as a law told directly to Moshe at Sinai. In this context, when the Talmud uses the expression “halacha l'Moshe mi'Sinai” regarding how the text of Tanach is written, it would mean that these aspects (the three categories included by the Talmud) are not later additions, but were part of the original text (and how it should be read). Nevertheless, there is much written to explain what “k'ri” and “k'siv” represent, including how those in Nach (Nevi'im/Kesuvim) can be classified as “halacha l'Moshe mi'Sinai.”

Radak (in his introduction to Sefer Yehoshua and on Shemuel II 15:21), gives his take on “k'ri” and “k'siv:” “It seems [to me] that during the first exile (after the first Temple was destroyed) the books (containing the Biblical text) were lost and moved, and the sages that knew the text died. And the Men of the Great Assembly, who returned the Torah to its original state, found discrepancies in the texts that were available, and (when reconstructing the authoritative text) followed (for each discrepancy) the majority, based on their opinion/knowledge. And in place[s] that their knowledge/opinion did not reach a point of full clarity (i.e. they were not completely confident that they had restored the text to its original form), they wrote one [version] but did not vocalize it, or they wrote it outside (the margins) but not inside (the body of the text), or wrote one [version] outside and one inside.” Radak is not the only one to suggest this, although it seems that the others who do so are following his lead (i.e. Meiri, in his introduction to Kiryas Sefer, who quotes Radak's language).

We can not apply the Rosh's understanding of “halacha l'Moshe mi'Sinai” to the Radak's explanation, and it would be difficult to suggest that Radak is disagreeing with the Talmud's understanding of the origin of “k'ri” and “k'siv” (especially since Meiri repeats it in his explanation of the Talmud, which also precludes the possibility that “k'ri” and “k'siv” being “halacha l'Moshe mi'Sinai” is only a minority opinion). I would therefore suggest something similar to what I wrote regarding the Talmud's assertion that Esther was given at Sinai and that the Aggadic literature was given at Sinai (see http://rabbidmk.posterous.com/shuvuos-5770); Moshe was taught the system to reconstruct the Biblical text (when necessary) at Sinai, including what to do if unsure exactly what the original text stated.

Abarbanel (in his introduction to Sefer Yirmiyah) rejects Radak's approach, for several reasons. For one thing, if a Sefer Torah is missing even one letter it is invalid, and if “k'ri” and “k'siv” are based on discrepancies that were unresolved, all of our Sifri Torah would likely be invalid. I'm not sure why this would be so; as long as we follow the proscribed procedure for writing/fixing the text, the halacha (law) would be that it is a valid Sefer Torah.

Abarbanel's next issue with Radak's approach is that there is a “guarantee” that the Torah would always be with us, which Abarbanel understands to mean with no doubts about what the original text was. Included in this concept (Abarbanel continues) is the comforting thought of the consistency of the Torah (its text) no matter how harsh the trials and tribulations we are forced to withstand are (keep in mind that Abarbanel had been a royal officer and had to flee Spain during the Inquisition, an upheaval that affected him greatly, including his having to rewrite much of his commentary due to the loss of his original manuscripts). This is why (according to Abarbanel) one of the fundamentals of our faith (referring to Rambam's 8^th principal) is that the text we have now is the exact same text that was given to Moshe. A close reading of Rambam's 8^th principal, however (see Igros Moshe, Yoreh Daya 3:114), indicates that Rambam did not mean (or at least focus on) whether the text we have is the exact same text given to Moshe, but whether any part of the text was written (or added) by Moshe on his own, without having been dictated to him (or to Yehoshua, according to the opinion that the last eight verses of the Torah were written down by Moshe, see Bava Basra 15a). Rambam does not mean that no textual doubt will ever arise, but that nothing in the text was purposely added; it all came directly from G-d. Reconstructing the text is not the issue, since the reconstruction is an attempt to determine what G-d had dictated, not a suggestion that the original came from another source. (Whether anyone disagrees with Rambam regarding this being a fundamental is a separate issue; I am only trying to clarify Rambam's opinion, since this is what Abarbanel is basing himself on and what the traditional community has accepted.)

The notion that we will always have the exact text that was dictated to Moshe is difficult to sustain. Aside from Radak (et al), Chikuni (Beraishis 15:5) says that the dots over certain letters or words in the Torah were added by Ezra to indicate which letters he was unsure were in Moshe's original text. (Although some attribute Avos d”Rav Nosson 34:4 as being Chizkuni's source, the context makes it clear that Avos d'Rav Nosson understands the dots to be a means of conveying additional messages from the text, not an indication of not being sure whether that part of the text really belonged.) Conceptually, the Chizkuni is very similar to Radak; Chizkuni uses the concept to explain the dots while Radak uses it to explain “k'ri” and “k'siv.” In addition, there are numerous places where the text used by the Talmud and Midrashim does not exactly match our text (see Ran on Sanhedrin 4a). Rashba (Responsa Attributed to Ramban 232) acknowledges that there are differences between the sages that excelled at exegesis and those that excelled at maintaining the text, and between “the sages in the east and the sages in the west” (which I understand to mean those in Bavel and those in Israel) regarding what the text actually is, making it impossible to say that we will always know what the exact text was. [The differences in the text are very few, and very minor, and almost always have no practical difference. In almost all cases, the exegesis involved did affects Jewish law, only Aggadic interpretation. Since the point of these interpretations is the message they carry, and the message was carried via Chazal, we can trust the message to be a valid one. The one instance where the difference between the texts affects Jewish law (and is only relevant to a rare circumstance, one that may never have occurred, as part of the service in the Temple in Jerusalem), is the subject of Rashba's Responsa. Conceptually, this is not really in issue either, and can be compared to different communities having different customs, or following the decision of their local Poskim (decisors of Jewish law); when it comes to maintaining the text, we follow the decisions of those whose expertise is in maintaining the text, and when it come to laws deduced through exegesis, we follow the decision of those who are experts in that area. Besides, at the time this “difference” could have been relevant, there was a Sanhedrin available to make the final determination.] Chazal (Meseches Sofrim 6:4, Yerushalmi Taanis 4:2, Sifri on Devarim 33:27) tell us that there were three Sifray Torah found in the Temple that had (slightly) different texts, and (in order to reconstruct the correct text) they used the concept of “majority rules” (Shemos 23:2), with the final text not being exactly the same as any of the three they had started with. This is not the same as Radak or Chizkuni, as once the text was reconstructed there was no indication included in the finished product that there had ever been a doubt, but it does show that discrepancies can arise, and at least until the reconstruction process is completed there could be doubts about exactly what Moshe's original text was.

It is unfair to mandate to others what should provide comfort, and practically speaking it is impossible. Nevertheless, I don't take any less comfort in knowing that we have a system in place (with divine approval) to reconstruct the text than if we had a guarantee that we would never have any doubts about what Moshe's text was, exactly, to the letter.

Another issue Abarbanel has with Radak's approach is determining which version to include in the body of the text (the “k'siv”) and which to put in the margin or the vocalization (the “k'ri”). It would seem, though, that even if Ezra and the Men of the Great Assembly weren't confident enough in one version to totally disregard the other, they could still choose which version they thought was more likely to be correct. In any case, what their “doubt” was needs to be explored, as if there was a majority of manuscripts that indicated one way, why didn't they just go with the majority (as stated in Meseches Sofrim, et al)? Did Radak think that there were exactly the same number of manuscripts for both possibilities for every “k'ri” and “k'siv?” That is rather unlikely. Quite possibly, there were reasons why they thought certain manuscripts were less reliable, and even though, when all the manuscripts were counted, there was a majority indicating one version over the other, since these less-reliable manuscripts created the “majority,” they didn't want to disregard the version contained in the reliable manuscripts. Whatever the situation was, it does not seem strange that they would prefer one version over the other, and indicate as much by making one the “k'siv” and the other the “k'ri.” [It should be noted that this discussion is not necessarily affected by the Talmud's discussion (Sanhedrin 4a) regarding whether the way things are written is primary (“yesh aim l'moseres”) or the way they are read is (“yesh aim l'mikra”), as in those cases the differences are not between the “k'ri” and the “k'siv,” but between how it could be written based on how we read it vs. how it could be read based on how it is written.]

The final issue Abarbanel challenges Radak with is the strongest. Many of the differences between the “k'ri” and the “k'siv” occur numerous times with the same word (although, ironically enough considering Abarbanel's take on the possibility of differences in the text arising, if you compare his examples with our text, they don't add up). If the “k'ri” vs. “k'siv” differences are the result of copyist errors, how likely is it that the same exact error happened almost every time a word was written. (Even though one version of the Chazal relating the three Sifray Torah found in the Temple has the third discrepancy occurring numerous times, it seems more likely that this is an inaccurate version of the Chazal rather than the same error being made so often.)

After rejecting Radak's approach, Abarbanel reiterates that the “k'siv” was never in doubt, and says that Ezra added a “commentary” to those words that would not have been understood properly (usually because the way it was written has hidden meanings) in the form of a way to read the word that brings out its simple, straightforward meaning. (This is consistent with the Malbim and Gra quoted above.) Although Abarbanel does not directly address how the Talmud can say this was “halacha l'Moshe mi'Sinai,” he does say that Ezra being able to explain the text this way was “without a doubt received from the prophets and the sages of the generation that preceded him.” If we take it back further, and say that the authorization to clarify the text this way was given to Moshe at Sinai, the approach of the Abarbanel can fit with the Talmud as well.

Maharal (Tiferes Yisroel 66) takes very strong issue with both Radak and Abarbanel's approaches, with one of the main reasons being that they go against Chazal telling us that “k'ri” and “k'siv” are “halacha l'Moshe mi'Sinai.” (As we have discussed, this is not necessarily the case.) According to Maharal, the text as written contains the deep wisdom appropriate for divine works, while the way it is read reflects its plain meaning. Maharal does address how “k'ri” and “k'siv” can be “halacha l'Moshe mi'Sinai” if they appear throughout Tanach, with the “halacha” being to hint to the deeper meaning in the written text but to read it in a way that the plain meaning is understood.

That the “halacha l'Moshe mi'Sinai” is the system of using “k'ri” and “k'siv” rather than how each individual word should be written/read is evident from the Talmud itself. Aside from the fact that the examples given are from books written after Moshe had died, one of the other categories said to be “halacha l'Moshe mi'Sinai” is reading “eretz” as “uretz” (changing the vowel under the first letter from a “segol” to a “kumatz”) when it is the last word of a verse (or verse segment). This occurs for proper names as well (such as “Lemech” becoming “Lumech,” see Beraishis 4:18 and 5:25). If the Talmud is saying that Moshe was taught how to pronounce the specific word (“eretz/uretz”), it would be no different than his being taught how to pronounce every other word in the Torah as G-d dictated it to him (see Ritz, quoted by Shita Mekubetzes). If however, the Talmud means that Moshe was taught the rule of how to vocalize these types of words in these types of situations (the “rule” rather than each word by itself), we can understand which “halacha” Moshe was taught independent of being taught the entire text. And just as the “halacha” regarding “mikre sofrim” refers to the rule, not the specific words the rule applies to, the “halacha” regarding “k'ri/k'siv” refers to the rule, not how to write/read each specific word.

Rabbi Dov Kramer on the Parsha

Taking a Closer Look (Rabbi Dov Kramer)

“And I prayed before G-d at that time” (Devarim 3:23). At which time? “After I conquered the land of Sichon and Og” (Rashi). What did conquering that land, on the eastern side of the Jordan River, have to do with Moshe's request to cross over and see the land on the western side? “I thought that perhaps the vow (not allowing me to get to the Promised Land) had been undone (ibid). Most understand Moshe's hope that G-d would now allow him to cross the Jordan to be based on his giving the Tribes of Reuvein and Gad (and half of Menashe) their portion on the eastern side, thereby bestowing the land with the status of “Eretz Yisrael” (the Land of Israel). Once Moshe was already inside “Israel,” he hoped to be able to cross further into Israel. However, the wording of Rashi (and the parable used in the Sifri, which is Rashi's source) strongly indicate that it was not assigning the land to specific Tribes that led Moshe to think that he might be able to cross the Jordan, but the fact that he had conquered the land on the eastern side.

Even had he not conquered the lands of Sichon and Og, Moshe would apparently have still been able to enter the land on the eastern side of the Jordan. He had asked Edom permission to pass through the northwestern corner of their land to get to Moav, and asked Moav permission to pass through their land to get to the Plains of Moav (“Arvos Moav”), from where the nation would enter the Promised Land. When Edom (and Moav) refused to give passage rights, the Children of Israel traveled around Edom until they reached the land of Sichon, whereupon Moshe asked Sichon permission to pass through this land. Had Edom (and Moav) or Sichon granted them permission, Moshe would have led his nation to Arvos Moav, bid them farewell, and ascended Mt. Nevo. Getting to Arvos Moav doesn't seem to have been an issue had it still belonged to Moav or Sichon; it was only after conquering it that Moshe thought that perhaps he could go farther and cross the Jordan. This is borne out by Rashi saying that Moshe thought the vow had been rescinded after he had “conquered” Sichon and Og, not after he “entered” it. Besides, if entering the land that would eventually become part of Eretz Yisroel was the trigger, entering the land that had been occupied by Sichon should have been enough; there would be no reason to include Og's land as part of why Moshe thought things might have changed.

What was it about conquering the lands of Sichon and Og that led Moshe to believe that he might be able to cross the Jordan River? And why was it only after conquering both Sichon and Og (and not just Sichon) that Moshe thought he might be able to do so?

The conversation between Moshe and the Tribes of Reuvein and Gad, and the implementation of their request, raises several issues as well. Their initial “request” (Bamidbar 32:1-4), was not really a request, but a relaying of information; they had a lot of cattle, and the land they had conquered was perfect for cattle. They didn't ask for it explicitly, but seemed to hope that upon being informed of the “match” between their needs and that land, Moshe, Elazar and the Tribal Chiefs would realize on their own that the land should be given to them (and would offer it to them). But they didn't. Instead, the paragraph describing the first communication ends.

Then, in a new paragraph (Bamidbar 32:5-15), they bring up the subject a second time, asking for the land to be given to them as their inheritance. Why didn't Moshe (et al) respond the first time the topic was brought up?

Rashi (32:24) explains the back and forth between Moshe and Reuvein/Gad to include fighting at the front lines until the land on the west side of the Jordan is conquered, and waiting to return until after the land has been divided and the other Tribes know which portions they are getting. Why was waiting for the land to be divided so important, and why is doing so described as being “for G-d?” This issue becomes even more puzzling when we take into account Rashi's comments regarding the division of the land (Bamidbar 26:54, which parallel Rashbam's comments on Bava Basra 122a, see also Ramban on 26:55 and Rashi on 33:54), describing the “lottery” which affirmed the division of the land made via the Urim v'Tumim. We would have expected only 10 Tribes to need the lottery to determine which land they would inherit, but instead there were slips with the names of all 12 Tribes and another 12 slips upon which the 12 areas were written. Since Reuvein and Gad already received their portions of land, why were their names/portions included in the lottery? Additionally, why, if only Reuvein and Gad had requested that their portion of the land be on the eastern side, did Moshe include, seemingly out of nowhere, half the Tribe of Menashe, and also give them their portion on the eastern side of the Jordan?

What would have happened had Reuvein and Gad not asked for the land on the eastern side? Would they have received a portion on the western side, with everybody else? What would have been done with the land on eastern side? (I have previously suggested that had the Eirav Rav survived, perhaps they would have received this land. Even if this were true, since they don't seem to have survived, what would have been done with it had Reuvein and Gad not asked for it?) Would each Tribe get a portion of it? How would they deal with having some land on the east side, unconnected with their land on the west side? Would it become their vacation spots? Some understand the Ramban (Bamidbar 21:21) to mean that this land would remain desolate, but it is clear from the context that this would only be until the land on the western side of the Jordan was conquered. It is unclear what would have happened to the land of Sichon and Og had Reuvein and Gad not asked for it as their inheritance. I am going to suggest the possibility that even had they not asked, Reuvein and Gad would have received the exact same land. Even though only the land on the western side is considered the “land flowing with milk and honey” (as we shall discuss shortly), there are advantages to the land that was conquered by Moshe (not Yehoshua), where Moshe taught them Torah, and where the manna fell (see www.aishdas.org/ta/5766/sukkos.pdf). If the advantages of the land on the eastern side related better to Reuvein and Gad than those of the eastern side, it would not be as if they were being shortchanged by getting “Eiver HaYarden” (“the other side of the Jordan”), and the lottery would make it clear that their land was as appropriate for them as the other portions were for the other Tribes. After being on the land that was going to be theirs, Reuvein and Gad could feel the connection between themselves and the land. Not just because it served their needs by being able to sustain their large amounts of cattle, but because this was really their land and they could sense that.

From this perspective, let's reexamine the conversation between Reuvein/Gad and Moshe (et al). Moshe knows that the land just conquered will eventually be given to Reuvein and Gad (and half of Menashe). Had they not conquered it, everybody (besides Moshe) would cross the Jordan, conquer the seven nations on the western side, and then conquer the land on the eastern side that did not belong to Edom, Amon or Moav. At that point, Yehoshua and Elazar would conduct the lottery (etc.), and each Tribe would be given their appropriate portion. However, now that it was conquered, Moshe is faced with a dilemma. If he gives the land just conquered to the Tribes that will eventually get them anyway, it's not fair to the other Tribes, who have to wait to get their land, and will have to fight against the nations in Canaan while Reuvein and Gad are already settling their land. On the other hand, if he doesn't give Reuvein and Gad (and half of Menashe) their land now, that means that they will have to shlep their families and all of their belongings over the Jordan (see Bamidbar 32:5), live in temporary dwellings until the land is conquered and divided up, and then shlep everything back over the Jordan to their permanent homes. There is another factor to be taken into account as well.

Rambam (Hilchos Terumos 1:2-3) describes the difference between land conquered by individuals (“kibush yachid”) and land conquered by the nation (“kibush rabim”), and what qualifies for each category. Even land on the western side of the Jordan would not be fully considered “Eretz Yisroel” if conquered by individuals rather than by the whole nation. Yehoshua, knowing the land wouldn't be fully conquered in his lifetime, therefore divided it up before he died (even before it was fully conquered). This way, when each Tribe conquered their own territory after he died, it would be based on the nation's will, not just the Tribe's, and would qualify as being “Eretz Yisroel” in every regard. Land that is not officially part of Eretz Yisroel can become Eretz Yisroel, provided it was conquered by the nation after Eretz Yisroel was fully conquered and divided/settled (see Hilchos Melachim 5:6). Based on this, Rabbi Peretz Steinberg, shlita (Pri Eitz Hachayim on Bamidbar 32:1-2, published in 5766) suggests that had Reuvein and Gad returned before the rest of the land was divided (even if it were after the western side of the Jordan was conquered), their land would not be considered Eretz Yisroel (for mitzvos such as terumah and maaser). This would be another reason not to give the land to Reuvein and Gad before everyone else gets theirs.

When Reuvein/Gad asked for the land, there was no offer of fighting on the western side (and therefore no indication of waiting until after the land was divided). The first time they brought it up, Moshe didn't respond, hoping they would think things through, and offer to fight on the western side (etc.). But they didn't, even when they brought it up the second time. It would be bad enough if the other Tribes would have to fight Canaan without the help of all 12 Tribes, especially if the two Tribes that wouldn't fight were the ones with the best warriors. If the two Tribes that didn't join them had requested not to fight (by asking for the land on the eastern side), it would be that much worse. Therefore, Moshe laces into them, comparing the damage done if they don't fight to the damage done by the spies. Reuvein and Gad get the message, and offer not only to join the fight on the western side, but to lead it. And they promise not to return “home” until the rest of land is divided, so that their land will be considered Eretz Yisroel. Moshe tells them that their leading the war was necessary if they want to keep the land on the eastern side (the “tenai kaful”), but asks them to keep the other part of their promise too, not to return until the land is divided (see Rashi on 32:24). This won't affect keeping the land, but will affect its status regarding mitzvos, and is therefore worth keeping “for G-d.”

Once Moshe was willing to give Reuvein and Gad their portions, he was faced with another dilemma. Can he give Reuvein and Gad their land now, but not give Menashe theirs? Menashe must have also felt a connection to their land, with Menashe's son Machir even naming his son Gilad (Bamidbr 26:29), the name of the land they felt connected with. (Gilad was the name the area was known by since Yaakov and Lavan built the pile (“gal”) of stones that was witness (“eid”) to their covenant, and was where the caravan that brought Yosef to Egypt originated from.) Menashe may not have been as bold as Reuvein and Gad to ask for their portion now, but that doesn't mean they didn't want it now too. How could Moshe make half the Tribe of Menashe shlep their families and possessions across the Jordan to live in Gilgal until the land is divided, and then shlep everyone and everything back, if Reuvein and Gad didn't have to? Therefore, when Moshe allowed Reuvein and Gad to stay on what would become their land anyway and start building its infrastructure, he also gave Menashe the land that they were going to get on the eastern side.

Before the land was divided, the laws of Shemita didn't apply even to the land on the western side of the Jordan (see Sifri on Vayikra 25:2). This is learned from the wording of the verses, which tells us that Shmita laws won't start until “you come to the land that I am giving you” (25:2) and you work on “your field” and “your vineyard” (25:3), i.e. the one assigned to you. The Sifri (here and on 23:10 regarding the Omer offering) explains the words “the land” to mean “the special land,” i.e. the land that flows with milk and honey, and the words “that I am giving you” to exclude the portions of Reuvein and Gad, which wasn't “given to them” but they asked for. This difference may have practical implications regarding Bikurim (first fruits), as according one one opinion in the Yerushalmi (Bikurim 1:8), Bikurim can be brought from Menashe's portion on the eastern side of the Jordan, but not from Reuvein and Gad's portions. The topic of which land-based laws apply where and when is a very complex one, but the points to take from them that are relevant to us are that the laws aren't necessarily the same for all of the land on the eastern side of the Jordan, non of the land-based laws applied there before the land (on the western side) was divided, none would have applied there had Reuvein/Gad not waited to return until after the division, and not all of them applied to the western side before the division took place.

Had permission been granted to get to Arvos Moav without having to conquer any land first, Moshe would not have thought that his being able to enter land that will eventually become Eretz Yisroel meant he could cross the Jordan. Even after the land of Sichon was conquered, since this became necessary in order to get to Arvos Moav, there was no indication that anything had changed. (This may be why Moshe “feared” Og, as his land wasn't necessary for access to the Promised Land.) However, once Og's land was conquered too, Moshe thought that things might have changed, as now he was standing on land that would become Eretz Yisroel, and was conquered for that purpose. Even though there is a difference between the land on the eastern side of the Jordan and the western side, those differences would be minimized after the land was divided, and not all of the mitzvos applied on the western side either until then.

Therefore, after conquering both Sichon and Og, Moshe asked if he could cross over to the western side of the Jordan. Not necessarily to stay there forever, but at least before the land was divided and all the mitzvos applied there, he should be allowed to “cross over and see it” (Devarim 3:25). After all, he was already standing on land that would become Eretz Yisroel once the land was divided.

Rabbi Dov Kramer on the Parsha

Taking a Closer Look (Rabbi Dov Kramer)

“And you dwelled in Kadeish for many years” (Devarim 1:46). Rashi , based on Seder Olam Rabbah (8), tells us that of the 40 years spent in the wilderness, 19 of them were spent living in Kadeish. This works out to be the same amount of years as their “wandering,” i.e. traveling just to fill out the full 40 years decreed upon them (Bamidbar 14:33-34). The decree was made after their “crying” on Tisha B’Av, the fifth month of the second year, and much of the 40^th year was spent traveling around Edom, past Moav, conquering Sichon/Og, and reviewing the Torah with Moshe at Arvos Moav, leaving 38 years of “wandering” just for the sake of “wandering.” Dwelling in Kadeish for 19 years means there were “only” 19 years of true “wandering.”

Which years were spent “wandering” and which years were spent “dwelling in Kadeish” depends on a number of factors, including which “Kadeish” these 19 years were spent at. This issue was raised several years ago by Rabbi Menachem Leibtag (www.Tanach.org), and despite also working on a deadline, I would like to expand upon some of his thoughts.

The context of the verse indicating that the Children of Israel stayed at Kadeish “the same amount of days that you dwelled” during the rest of the wanderings (see Rashi on Devarim 1:46) indicates that this occurred before the wandering started, as it comes immediately after Moshe reminds them of the sin of the spies (1:22-45) and before they “turned and traveled to the desert by way of the Sea of Reeds (2:1) and, after being told they’ve wandered enough (2:3), going north past Eisav (2:-3-8) and Moav (2:8-18), and conquering Sichon (2:24-36). However, there are other indications that they left right after the decree, and didn’t hang around for years after the decree was made.

The Torah tells us explicitly (2:14) that it took 38 years from the time they traveled from Kadeish Barnaya (the “Kadeish” that the spies were sent from) until they crossed the Zered Stream (east of Moav, almost parallel to the bottom of the Dead Sea). If the 38 years started from when they “traveled from Kaseh Barneya,” they obviously must have left right away, not 19 years later. Nevertheless, the Chizkuni addresses this issue by telling us that “it doesn’t means only [years of] travel, but [the years it took] between [both] standing (i.e. staying put) and traveling.” Once the decree was made and they knew that they wouldn’t be able to enter the Promised Land for more than 38 years (and wouldn’t enter from where they were, but would have to travel to a different point of entry), the fact that they hadn’t physically left yet didn’t change the fact that they hadn’t yet reached their final destination, and it was considered as if they were “traveling” for the whole 38 years.

After telling them that they weren’t going to enter the Promised Land now, G-d told them they would have to travel away from there (the original point of entry, Kadeish Barneya) “tomorrow” (Bamidbar 14:25). It would seem difficult to say that they stayed in Kadeish Barneya for 19 years if G-d told them to leave “tomorrow.” However, several commentators (i.e. Chizkuni) point out that “tomorrow” doesn’t have to mean literally “the next day;” it sometimes means “some time in the future.” The Netziv and the Panim Yafos (in Devarim) suggest that originally they were going to have to “wander” for the full 38 years (starting “tomorrow”), but their prayers not to have to “wander” helped cut that part of the decree in half, so they only had to “wander” for 19 years, and the “tomorrow” part was nullified. (It could be suggested that this addresses the previous issue as well, as since their prayers nullified 19 years of the “wandering,” it was still considered as if they “traveled” for all 38 years.)

Although Rashi does tell us (Bamidbar 32:8) that there were two cities with the name “Kadeish,” the implication (see Gur Aryeh) is that the place the spies were sent from is referred to as “Kadeish Barneya,” while the city “by the edge of the border of Edom” (Bamidbar 20:16), where Miryam died and Moshe hit the rock, is referred to as just plain “Kadeish.” If so, it was not at Kadeish Barneya that they stayed for 19 years, but at Kadeish. Nevertheless, the overwhelming majority of commentators understand it to be Kadeish Barneya where they stayed for 19 years, before the “wandering” started, perhaps because the spies did return “to Moshe and to Aharon and to the entire congregation of the Children of Israel to the Paran Desert, at Kadeish” (13:26).

Despite saying explicitly in Devarim that the Kadeish they stayed at for a long time was Kadeish Barneya, in Bamidbar (20:1) Ibn Ezra says that it was at the Kadeish where Miryam died that they stayed for a long time. However, Ibn Ezra doesn’t follow Chazal’s approach that the “long time” was 19 (or 18, see Midrash HaGadol) years, as he says explicitly that they arrived at Kadeish, where they stayed for a long time, in the 40^th year. Rabbeinu Bachye also says (in Bamidbar) that it was the Kadeish where Miryam died that they stayed for a long time, but in Devarim he follows Chazal and says that the “long time” was in fact 19 years. This would explain why the Torah doesn’t tell us that they arrived at Kadeish in the 40^th year, as they really arrived in the 21st year. [Even though the Torah doesn’t tell us that Miryam died in the 40^th year either, Rabbeinu Bachye does say it was in the 40^th year, with all three of the generation’s leaders (Miryam, Aharon and Moshe, at the ages of 127, 123 and 120 respectively) passing away in that final year before the nation entered the Promised land. That Miryam died in the 40^th year seems to be accepted by all; see Seder Olam Rabbah 9.] According to Rabbeinu Bachye they did leave right away (“tomorrow”) from Kadeish Barneya, and it took 38 years (even if they stayed for 19 of them in Kadeish) until they crossed The Zered Stream. The only real difficulty in the verses is the one we started with, as the context indicates that the long stay in “Kadeish” occurred right after the decree, before they left the place where the decree was issued. Based on the Netziv and Panim Yafos, it could be suggested that since the initial decree was that they couldn’t enter the Promised Land for 39 more years and that they would “wander” for 38 of them, and it was their prayers that allowed them to stay in one place for 19 of those years, Moshe mentioned the 19 year stay here because having to wait those 19 years was still part of the decree, as “G-d did not answer your cries” to reverse the decree (Devarim 1:45), although he did cut the years of “wandering” in half, “enabling you to stay in Kadeish,” 19 years later, for 19 years.

It is interesting to note that one of the differences between the way Rashi quotes Seder Olam Rabbah and the way our version reads relates directly to whether the 19 years in Kadeish occurred right after the decree or 19 years after the decree; Rashi has the 38 years as “19 of them in Kadeish and 19 years traveling and being harried,” while our version has the 19 years traveling and being harried first. Rather than ascribing each version to the two opinions cited above, however, both versions are problematic. Our version of Seder Olam Rabbah is problematic because the 19 years were spent at “Kadeish Barneya,” not at “Kadeish;” if the 19 years of staying in one place occurred after the 19 years of “wandering,” they had to have been at “Kadeish, “ not at “Kadeish Barneya.” Rashi’s version adds one additional thought, “and they returned to Kadeish,” strongly implying that they returned to the same place they had stayed for 19 years after their 19 years of wandering. Yet, Rashi had told us (Bamidbar 32:8) that there were two different places called “Kadeish,” so how could he say that “Kadeish Barneya” and “Kadeish” were the same place?

Sefer Eileh Masay (pgs. 94-96; published in 2000 by Dun Schwartz) suggests that the two words that add this thought (“v’chuzru l’Kadeish”) must be a mistake (even though he cites a manuscript that includes them, and acknowledges that the Raavad had this version of Seder Olam Rabbah). Midrash Esfa (Batei Midrashos I, pg. 213, quoted by Torah Shelaimah, Bamidbar 20:9) says that the nation was thrilled to return to Kadeish, the same place they had dwelled peacefully for 19 years, after having wandered for 19 years. Therefore, no matter how we address the contradiction in Rashi (and it’s clear from his commentary on Bamidbar 34:4 that he had in inaccurate map of the area, with “Kadeish” being south of Edom rather than on the eastern side close to the north), we have to address a third opinion, that “Kadeish Barneya” and “Kadeish” are really one and the same (see Mizrachi on Beraishis 14:7, also see Or Hachayim on Bamidbar 13:26).

Although there are numerous “deserts” that the Children of Israel traveled through (or near), such as the Paran Desert (from where the spies were sent), the Tzin Desert (where the southern border of Israel passes through, and where “Kadeish” is) and the Sinai Desert, the Talmud (Shabbos 89a) indicates that they are all one desert. Tosfos (ibid) explains that it is one very large desert that encompasses the Sinai Peninsula (although, like Rashi, Tosfos didn’t realize it was a peninsula, which is why they said that the nation didn’t “cross” the split sea leaving Egypt, but came out on the same side they came in) and goes all the way up north (on the eastern side of the peninsula) until just below the Dead Sea. A similar thought is put forth by the Maharal (Gur Aryeh on Bereishis 14:7). It is therefore not problematic if “Kadeish Barneya” is described as being in the Paran Desert while “Kadeish” is in the Tzin Desert, as they are really the same (large) desert. (Atlas Daas Mikre, in its map on pg. 101, has the two deserts overlapping, with the two names criss-crossing each other!) Although from the maps I’ve seen “Kadesh Barneya” and “Kadeish” are over 100km apart from each other, it should be noted that the nation never (or probably never) camped at either location. Kadeish Barneya is mentioned when the southern border of Israel is described (Bamidbar 34:4), but the border is south of it, meaning that Kadeish Barneya is inside the Land of Israel. Since Moshe never stepped foot into Israel (nor did the rest of the nation, except the spies), they must not have camped at Kadeish Barneya, but near it (see Sefornu on Bamidbar 13:26). Similarly, Kadeish, if it was a “city,” was within the borders of Edom (which is how most maps have it); how could Moshe have asked permission to pass through Edom if they were already there? The Israelite camp was quite large, and likely couldn’t fit in any already inhabited city; it is much more likely that they camped near Kadeish, not in Kadeish, and that Moshe was telling Edom that we are near one of your northern-most cities, and won’t need to pass through much of your land. (See Gittin 6a, where Rekem, the Aramaic translation of Kadeish, is considered the border of Israel but not part of Israel.) It is therefore possible that both times, before sending out the spies and before asking Edom permission to pass through to Moav (if they wanted to go into Israel from there, Edom is in the wrong direction), they camped in the same area, southeast of Kadeish Barneya and southwest of Kadeish. When they were planning to enter Israel from the south, the nearby location of Kadeish Barneya is mentioned; when asking permission from Edom, the nearby city of Kadeish is mentioned. They are two different locations, but the nation returned to the same basic area 19 years after having left it. There would therefore be no problem if Moshe called it “Kadeish,” not “Kadeish Barneya” even when discussing events that occurred right after the spies were sent.

Rabbi Dov Kramer on the Parsha

Taking a Closer Look (Rabbi Dov Kramer)

Besides the 12,000 soldiers sent to enact revenge against Midyan for trying to corrupt the Children of Israel, both spiritually (“for the matter of Pe’or,” i.e. causing them to worship Pe’or) and morally (“and for the matter of Kuzbi,” Bamidbar 25:18), Moshe also sent Pinachas (31:11) as the Kohain Gadol anointed for wartime. Rashi quotes three reasons why Pinachas went rather than Elazar (his father), with the second being “that he went to enact the vengeance of his grandfather (meaning a grandparent on his mother’s side), Yosef.” Yosef had been sold as a slave to Egypt by Midyanite merchants (Beraishis 37:36), and his great-grandson Pinachas was going to “even the score” by leading the war against Midyan.

The commentators raise several issues regarding this reason for sending Pinachas. For one thing, Yosef was sold as a slave 270 years before this war was fought; are we supposed to hold a grudge for hundreds of years? Secondly, it was only those merchants that sold Yosef; why is the entire nation of Midyan held accountable for something done only by one caravan of merchants? Additionally, selling things bought in one location for a higher price in a different location is how merchants make a living, and slaves were a normal commodity; why are these merchants considered to have done anything wrong if this was their profession?

The Maharal (on Chumash and on Soteh 43a) says that the point is not really Pinachas taking revenge for what had been done to his great-grandfather, but that Pinachas, his makeup and what he represented, was the appropriate foil for Midyan. They were extremely immoral, which is why they sent their daughters to seduce Israel, while Yosef, who overcame the temptation of Potifar’s wife, and Pinachas, who took a strong stand against the immoral behavior going on when he killed Zimri and Kuzbi, were completely removed from immorality. Whereas the immorality of Midyan had been victorious over Yosef when they sold him, Pinachas reversed the situation when he destroyed Midyan in this war.

Others only address how merchants can be blamed for doing what merchants normally do. The Taz says that the Midyanites realized Yosef’s potential for greatness, and in order to prevent him from ever attaining such greatness, purposely sold him to Egypt, where slaves were never allowed to leave. However, Rashi had told us (Beraishis 37:25) that G-d arranged for the caravan that brought Yosef to Egypt to be carrying pleasant-smelling perfumes and spices, rather the foul-smelling wares they usually sold, and the verse says explicitly that this caravan’s destination had been Egypt even before Yosef became part of their cargo. Even if they were happy that this was their destination because it meant Yosef would never be able to get out, Pinachas likely didn’t know that, and couldn’t blame them for not changing their itinerary once Yosef was sold to them. Besides, the brothers knew where the caravan was headed before they sold Yosef to them, which is how they knew to look for him in Egypt when they went down to buy grain during the famine (see Rashi on Beraishis 42:13); it would be the other Tribes that Pinachas should “enact vengeance upon,” not the merchants who were heading to Egypt anyway. [It should be noted that according to Sefer Hayashar the brothers planned on selling Yosef to the caravan (they knew to be) heading for Egypt, but ended up selling him to the Midyanite merchants who pulled him out of the pit. When the Midyanites regretted buying Yosef (fearing retribution from the powerful “Hebrews”), they sold him to the caravan that the brothers had first spotted, who brought Yosef to Egypt. Nevertheless, this sale was made out of fear, not to subject Yosef to Egyptian slavery. (Since the brothers knew where Yosef was, they must have found out from these merchants that they sold Yosef to the caravan heading for Egypt.) Either way, Pinachas shouldn’t have blamed the merchants for causing Yosef to be sold to Egypt.]

The Netziv (in his commentary on the Sifri, which is Rashi’s source), says that Yosef surely told them who he was, and that they would get paid even more money if they returned him to his family. Because they preferred selling him as a slave over making more money, they were not being “merchants,” and were held accountable for Yosef being sold as a slave. (Rabbi Peretz Steinberg, shlita, makes a very similar suggestion in “Pri Eitz Hachayim,” which he published in 1991.) Although Sefer Hayashar (which the Netziv references) says that the Midyanite merchants recognized that Yosef was too dignified (etc.) to be a slave, and that Shimon identified himself and his brothers as being the sons of Yaakov, they feared suffering repercussions for having Yosef, and probably did not think they could sell him back to his family for a large profit. It’s also hard to imagine that they would believe their captive slave’s claim that they could get a better deal from his family, as the captive would likely say anything to get back to his family.

Midyan was one of the sons of Keturah (Beraishis 25:2), the wife Avraham married after Sarah died. The people of Midyan were therefore relatives of the Children of Israel, but more than being related, Midyan should have been aware of who the Children of Israel were and what their status was. Lavan, the grandson of Avraham’s brother (Nachor), knew that Avraham was “blessed of G-d” (Beraishis 24:31), and they (Nachor’s family) were honored to have their daughter/sister marry into this blessed family. What perspective of Avraham’s (other) family (Yitzchok’s grandchildren) was embedded in the consciousness of the nation of Midyan? Did they respect Israel’s mission of fulfilling G-d’s word? Did they ignore it (or forget about it)? Or, did they resent it? Had Midyan taught his children about their ancestry, that they also descended from Avraham, who brought monotheism (back) to the world, they would have been in awe of Yaakov and his sons, and respected them. Even the merchants would know of them, and would never consider selling one of them as a slave. Either the special status of Israel never made an impression on Midyan (the nation), or they resented it, thus allowing these merchants to deal with Yosef as they would with any other business dealing (or worse). It wasn’t just the merchants that had “sinned” against Yosef, but the entire nation, starting from Midyan himself, for not valuing Avraham’s message or the people who were carrying it out.

When they tried corrupting Israel, getting them to worship another deity and to engage in illicit behavior, it became apparent that Midyan didn’t just ignore Israel’s special status, but resented it. In retrospect, it showed that ignoring Yosef’s pleas was more than just a result of not valuing Avraham’s message and the mission of the Children of Israel; they wanted to help thwart that mission, and selling Yosef to Egypt (they thought) would help accomplish that. Therefore, when sending an army to destroy the nation that would otherwise continue trying to thwart the mission of the Children of Israel, Moshe included Yosef’s great-grandson, who understood the danger Midyan posed, and would make sure that the war against them would end successfully.