The Bible is considered the number one bestseller in the world. For decades, indeed for centuries, it has not slipped from this ranking, and it remains the bestseller of all time. It has been translated into more languages than any other book, and there is almost no one in the world who does not know it: apart from a few bushmen in the primeval forests of Africa, everyone knows the Bible, everyone has heard of it, everyone at some point has studied Bible. And yet, when we look at our reality here in the Land, we are the people of the Tanach, we live in the land of the Tanach, we ostensibly speak (and I stress: ostensibly, because we will soon see that this is not quite accurate) the language of the Tanach, and specifically here Tanach is considered the least popular subject. How can this be?
The first reason: someone who does not believe in the product cannot market it
One answer that was given here hit the mark exactly: they teach it like history. And I will add to it: would you appoint a person who loves meat and is a regular patron of a steakhouse to be a lecturer on veganism? After all, what do you care? He will explain it excellently, he has studied the material, he knows how to convey it, he is a superb lecturer, the audience takes it in. And nevertheless: he does not have it. Someone who did not learn the material by applying it and living according to it lacks the thing itself. We would not take a person to market a product that he does not believe in, because when you do not believe in the product you do not put spirit into the marketing. You will say: yes, this is a fine product, it is excellent. You will not tell the customer that you failed with it several times and that in your own home you do not keep it because it is problematic, but the customer will pick up on it. He will sense that you do not live the product, that it is not in your blood.
This is one of the reasons. I stress: not everyone. There are many teachers who love Tanach, teach Tanach and believe in Tanach. But many teach Tanach without believing in it, and consequently, when they convey the texts, they are essentially reporting: this is what they say the prophet said; this is what they say such a prophecy was; we do not know whether it was fulfilled or not, but there was such a prophecy.
And statements of this kind do not hold up to the test of our generation, which is a very goal-oriented generation. I am sure there are students here who can testify that most of the subjects studied are practical, goal-oriented subjects. In the past people studied a great deal of literature, they studied the humanities, subjects that were central in terms of their philosophical essence; today these have been turned into fluff. Today the question is: bottom line, what do I do with this? I studied philosophy, so now what? Let me study law, give me a profession that will advance me in life, give me medicine. Why do we have a flood of lawyers? For that very same reason: people are looking for something practical. And when a teacher comes and teaches Tanach, and for him the Tanach is not a book to be applied but a collection of stories that once happened, the student asks himself: what is the point? Why sit here? After all, in any case these are stories that people composed over the generations, and maybe it is true and maybe it is not, and from the way it is presented you already understand that the 'not' is stronger in him than the 'yes.' And so a person finds no interest in it.
The second reason: the manner of conveying the message
The additional reason, in my view, is the manner of teaching. What did they focus on with us in school? Memorize the Song of Devorah, memorize the Song of Chana, start learning texts by heart. The focus was on the language of the author of the book: why here he used one expression and there another, what he sought to express through his wording. The focus is linguistic, and that is indeed how one studies literature. But that is not how one studies Tanach. Tanach must be studied through the spirit of the matter and the spirit of the era: what did the prophet come to express, what did the author of the book come to tell us. Did he come merely to tell us stories?
The holy Zohar says: if we had come to write a book of stories, there are far more successful books than the Torah. There are far better storybooks. Rather, says the Zohar, the Torah came to teach a message. And so too the Tanach: it comes to convey a message. When the prophet wrote and told us a story, he did not come to say to me, "Know that this is what happened." What difference does that make to me? For this is not history.
Tanach is not a book of history
Who can prove to me with a clear, simple and decisive proof that Tanach is not a book of history? In Tanach no dates are mentioned. A history book without dates is not a history book. How can one write history without noting how many years ago it was, in exactly which year, when. And more than that: there is no chronological order in the Torah (ein mukdam u'meuchar baTorah). That is, a particular passage may come earlier in the order of writing while chronologically it occurred later. That is not how one writes history.
Tanach is a book that comes to give instructions on how a person should conduct himself. And for that reason it does not record events in their chronological order, it sometimes omits things that elsewhere would be considered central, and it focuses on things that seem to us marginal, and this too we will need to understand: why and for what reason. But it is clear to us that it does not come to describe "this is how the history of the Jewish people unfolded," but rather to describe what the way of life is that the author of the book believed in and wished to pass on to the coming generations.
Ben Gurion's kushan
It is well known that Ben Gurion was a devoted lover of Tanach, very well versed in it, and always carried a Tanach with him. When he was at the UN and they asked him what right you have to the Land of Israel, what is your deed of ownership to it, he grabbed the Tanach and said: this is our deed to the Land of Israel. "To your descendants I have given this land." Here, we are promised that the land is ours. And so the story goes (I have not verified it), that there was a very clever senator there, who asked him: Is this deed binding? He said: Certainly. He said to him: It also says there to keep Shabbat. And Ben Gurion was left speechless.
Because if you relate to the Tanach as a deed that is only partially binding, why should I accept it, if you yourself say that it does not bind you in other respects? Historically he is right: we took from the Tanach what was convenient for us, and what was inconvenient we preferred to set aside. And this itself caused others not to take our intentions too seriously either, for you cannot take what you want and omit what you want.
The Paradox of Language
There is an additional problem: the Tanach is written in an archaic language. And note the paradox: on the one hand it is an archaic language that many of us do not speak, and on the other hand it is a language that all of us supposedly understand, and this itself is one of the reasons that we do not understand the Tanach. Let me explain this puzzling statement. Ostensibly, if the Tanach is written in our language, that is a reason we should understand it. But there is a small problem: the words we express ourselves with are not always the words the Tanach expresses itself with. There is a word that we understand in a certain way, but that is not the language of the Tanach and not what it meant to say. In slang you are right, that is how people speak today, but the Tanach did not mean to say that.
Lashon HaKodesh Is Not a Language of Convention
Lashon HaKodesh is entirely different from all other languages. All the languages we know in the world are languages of convention: a few people sat down and decided that a certain object would be called this, and from then on it is called that. No one can give me a reason why a shulchan is called a table. There is no logical reason. And a kisei is called a chair, and a chalon a window, and so on. The only reason is that we all agreed this would be its name.
By contrast, the Tanach is written in a language defined as a Divine language. What does this mean? A language that did not develop over the years, but came down from Above as a perfect unit. And since this is so, every expression and every noun has a source, whether from its conjugation, its verb, or the original name of that thing.
Let me give examples from the animal world. The aryeh (lion) is called aryeh because it instills fear, and the letters of aryeh are the same as yirah (fear). The gamal (camel) is called gamal because it is the animal capable of weaning itself off water for the longest time. The chamor (donkey) is called chamor because it expresses the peak of materiality; when people want to say something unpleasant to a person they call him a "chamor," and not because of the long ears, but because the donkey represents a material, physical animal, the lowest and most base. The of (bird) is called of because that is its main occupation: it flies (af). The devorah (bee) is constantly talking (medaberet); we do not have many animals that talk while flying, and the bee buzzes as it flies. The sus (horse) is called sus because its entire manner and its whole essence is joyful and exultant (sas). It is the only animal that neighs, and its whole gait is regal. The donkey walks with its head down, well, a donkey; the horse prances all the time, a joyful gait. The remes is called remes, Rashi says, because it treads (romes) upon the ground, its body treads on the earth, and therefore the cockroaches and other such creatures, which homemakers flee from at a great distance, are called remasim.
And another example: behemah (animal). Why is it called behemah? Because "bah mah": nothing can be added to it. A person can rise higher, and adam is from the phrase "edameh la'Elyon," that he can resemble his Creator. But the animal, what is in it is what there is, nothing can be added to it, and it will remain exactly the same. Even if you train it, it will remain an animal.
Training and Education: Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschutz and the Cats
They tell of Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschutz that he had a debate with the maskilim of his generation. They claimed that it is possible to educate animals and change their nature, and he said to them: To educate you certainly cannot, perhaps to train. And what is the difference between training and education? Training is conditioning, giving the animal habits without it understanding why it does so. Our children we educate and in no way train. Why do we not train? Because to train a child means that when I am next to him he does it, and when I am not next to him he will not do it on his own. An elephant too, when you are next to it, it dances. When I am next to him he will speak nicely, but I did not educate him, I trained him. To educate means that he will internalize, that he will internalize that speaking in a disrespectful language is not good, and consequently even when I am not next to him he will not speak that way. That is the difference between educating and training. An animal cannot be educated, an animal can be trained. And they insisted that it is possible to educate animals.
They decided to hold a large symposium with many scientists, in order to show him how they had succeeded in educating animals. What did they do? They brought cats that they had trained over a long period to carry trays in their paws and to walk on two legs. I do not know whether a cat is capable of this, but they succeeded. They tied bow ties on them, dressed them in vests, and led them out this way with trays and clinking cups.
Earlier, it had happened that Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschutz was sitting and learning, and a mouse was running around and disturbing him, dashing and jumping, dashing and jumping. He had a snuff box, so he put the mouse inside it, closed it, placed it in his pocket, and the mouse stopped bothering him. Some time later they came to summon him: Does the Rav remember that the performance is today? He remembered and went there. He sees the cats, and suddenly he begins to feel a vibration in his pocket. No, he had not taken his cellphone, this was two hundred and fifty years ago; he remembered the mouse. He pulled it out of his pocket and let it run. You can imagine the embarrassment and commotion: noise, chaos, all the glasses fell, everyone chasing after the mouse. And then he said to them: Here, you see how one can train animals; but to educate them can never be done.
And this is a lesson for us as well: when you merely train someone, a small test comes along and he fails it. If he does the thing because he understands, because he overcomes himself, because he believes that what you said is correct and important and he accepts it on his own account, that is education. But if I only trained him to do a certain thing, the slightest deviation and he is out.
More on the names of the animals
We see that the Holy Tongue is a designed language. The dog is called kelev because it is entirely heart (kulo lev). The dog is the only animal that gives its entire self over to its master. There are stories of dogs who reached the point of self sacrifice to save their master, entering a place of fire and danger and even being burned in order to save him. This does not mean that the dog understands the duty of the mission and the goal, but that the Creator of the world made it to be entirely heart toward its master. The cat is the only animal that covers its excrement, wrapping itself up (mechatel), just as we place a diaper (chitul) on a child. And the elephant: everyone who sees it is filled with wonder. Where have you seen an animal with a nose a meter and a half long? We have grown accustomed to it, but the Gemara says that one who sees an elephant in a dream, wonders (pelaot) were done for him. The elephant is the wondrous (pil, pele) animal.
There are no synonyms
The Holy Tongue is not a language of convention but a designed language. And since it is designed, when I read a particular word in Tanach I must try to understand it: from which root it springs, what it comes to say, what principle the author of Tanach wished to express specifically through this word. And if you see that here he wrote one word and there another word, it is a sign that the two words are different and he did not mean to say the same thing. If it says "to shatter and to smash," it is not the same thing.
If I say gila, rina, ditza, simcha, chedva, sason, tzahala, what would you call all of this? Joy. But each of them expresses a different level of joy: there is inner joy that bursts forth, there is joy a person feels following good news, there are different kinds. This is not repetition of language, but each word expresses a different type of joy. And likewise if I say dach, and mach, and rash, and ani, and evyon, and dal, each expresses a different essence of poverty: there is poverty of understanding, there is poverty of money, and there is a poor person who craves everything, and from this comes evyon. Each word comes to express a different essence. When we possess a dictionary of this sort, we look at Tanach in an entirely different way: we do not read the words superficially and say "more or less this is the meaning," but rather we understand the depth that the prophet came to express in the story he tells.
Depth versus superficiality: the Rav of Brisk and bribery
Just how different the light revealed to one who delves deeply is from that of one who reads superficially can be learned from an incident that occurred. A Russian judge came to the Rav of Brisk and said to him: Your Torah encourages bribery. The Rav asked him: Why? He said to him: Here, according to Russian law, one who gives a bribe and one who takes a bribe are both punished, both go to prison. But according to Jewish halacha, nowhere is it written "you shall not give a bribe," only "you shall not take a bribe." The Torah warns only against taking. It turns out that you encourage bribery, for what does a person care? I will try to give, if he did not accept, he did not accept, and I will not be punished. What is your answer to such a question? Seemingly he had raised a strong difficulty: the Russian law is more logical and just.
The Rav of Brisk said to him: Know that it is exactly the opposite. Russian law encourages bribery, and the Torah prevents it, and I will describe to you how. How does it happen that a person wants to pay a bribe? He comes to court, hears the accusations, understands that his situation is serious, and decides to go into the judge for a private conversation and leave a package with him, and the matter will stay between us and no one will know. Now understand: the judge says to himself, after all I am taking a risk. I could be fired, lose a salary of thirty or forty thousand shekels, lose my good name, lose everything. But he takes into account: why would this become known? Is there a chance it will get out of this room? For according to Russian law, if they learn that you gave a bribe they will hang you, and if they learn that I took it they will hang me. There is a bond of silence between us: I will not tell and you will not tell, and both of us have an interest in not revealing. So the judge says: let us take it, we have nothing to lose.
Whereas according to the Torah, the Rav continued, the judge makes a different calculation. A person comes to him wishing to give him a bribe, and the judge says to himself: wait, after all there is nothing to stop you from going and telling that you paid a bribe and thereby perverted justice. You are dangerous to me. The one who will fall from this affair is me. You will pay me money, pervert the judgment in your favor, and then run to tell your friends: Mr. Cohen takes bribes, do you have a case? Give him a little money and he will arrange it. After all, no one prevents you from telling, and no one will punish you for giving the bribe. And since this is so, the judge does not take from the outset, for why would I put my head on the line for a person who tomorrow will go and tell everyone? There is no bond of silence here, because only I am punished and not he. On the contrary, the Torah wanted the giver of the bribe not to be punished, precisely so that this would frighten the judge from taking, since there is someone who will reveal his deeds. Here you see: something that at a superficial glance appears as though Russian law is just, and through contemplation and deep thought is revealed that the Torah is what prevents bribery and Russian law is what encourages it.
The stages of a person's life in the Holy Tongue
Let me give another example that the Jewish language is not a language of convention. Let us look at a child from the moment of his birth, and even before that. In his mother's womb we call him an ubar (fetus), because he is in a world that is beyond (me'ever). Afterward he is called yeled (child), since he has already been born (nolad). We call him tinok because that is his main occupation, he nurses (yonek). When he grows a little older we call him na'ar, and everyone knows what a na'ar is: he wants to shake off (lehitna'er) every obligation. Do not tell me what to do, do not manage me, do not set rules for me. Later he is called bachur, because he is in the choicest years of his life (mivchar), his most select years, before the back pains and problems begin. And he is also called bachur because this is the age at which he is supposed to choose (livchor) and decide what the rest of his path will look like, and usually what a person chooses while he is a bachur will accompany him; making changes at age forty is already much more complicated. He is also called elem, from the language of concealment (he'elem), for his traits and nature and character have not yet come to expression, since he is still young. Afterward he is called ish, meaning he already has a personality (ishiyut), his personality is more developed. And then he is called zaken, and Chazal say: this one has acquired (zeh kanah). Acquired what? There is one who acquired a Ferrari and there is one who acquired wisdom. A zaken is a person with acquisitions, who has already acquired something in this world, a positive or negative acquisition, but he acquired. And finally he is called sav, because he turns (sav) on his heels and begins to retreat backward. Do you know the difference between a child and an elderly person? A child walks on all fours and an elderly person walks on three. With him too a regression begins, until the stage where he must be taken in a stroller, just as one takes a child in a stroller. Here we see that in Lashon HaKodesh every word and every expression is planned, and this is exactly how we approach understanding the Tanach and the texts we will study, and with God's help our understanding will be deeper.
The expositions of Chazal are not an invention
One of the things missing from Tanach classes was the words of Chazal. And even if they were brought, they were usually treated as something peripheral: this is what Chazal saw fit to say, this is how Chazal expounded, they tried to add an extra dimension to the verses, it is not written here but this is what Chazal say. The impression was created that the expositions of Chazal are a kind of invention: Chazal took the Scripture and invented, told us a story that is not written. As if this is the folklore of the Jewish people: the Chinese have folk legends and we have Chazal, a kind of folk tale and addition to Scripture. Ask him: is this written in the verses? He will tell you: no, in the verse it says this, and Chazal came and added color and descriptions that are far from reality.
In truth, whoever learns this way has no appreciation at all for the words of Chazal, for in his view these are things that are not written but an addition to the text. But if a person learns Lashon HaKodesh as I said, he learns to see that every word Chazal expounded is not an invention but is written within the verses themselves. And then he asks: how did I not see this before? Because I did not have the dictionary for how to read the verses correctly. When I have this dictionary, I can understand the matters, even though according to their plain sense they are seemingly not written. I will bring an example, and I will give a little background to refresh the memory.
An example: the dialogue between the Holy One and Bilam
In the passage of Bilam we find an enormous wonder, even for one who reads the verses according to their plain meaning, in the very dialogue that takes place between the Creator of the world and Bilam. Balak fears the people of Israel: they are drawing near, already touching his border, and he fears that within a short time they will come and fight him and dispossess him from his land. He has a secret weapon, and its name is Bilam. Bilam is a sorcerer and magician, and he is the secret weapon against Israel, for Israel too has a secret weapon and its name is Moshe Rabbeinu. Moshe is not a conventional weapon, and therefore Balak understands that he must recruit an unconventional weapon, someone like Moshe, a man with supernatural powers. And Bilam indeed has supernatural powers, this is no illusion. The Torah defines him as a prophet, and Chazal say: no prophet arose in Israel like Moshe, but among the nations of the world one did arise. Only in Israel is there no prophet like Moshe, and among the nations there was Bilam, who had the level of a prophet, at least at his beginning.
And now let us look at the dialogue, which is completely wondrous, and if anyone can give it an explanation I will accept it gladly. Balak's messengers come to him, and he says to them:
ויאמר אליהם לינו פה הלילה, והשיבותי אתכם דבר כאשר ידבר ה' אליי, וישבו שרי מואב עם בלעם. - And he said to them: Lodge here tonight, and I will bring you back word as the Lord will speak to me. And the officers of Moav stayed with Bilam.
They came to make him an offer he could not refuse: come and curse the people of Israel, there is a lot of money here, it is worthwhile. And the verse continues:
ויבוא אלוקים אל בלעם ויאמר: מי האנשים האלה עמך? ויאמר בלעם אל האלוקים: בלק בן ציפור מלך מואב שלח אליי, הנה העם היוצא ממצרים ויכס את עין הארץ, עתה לכה קבה לי אותו, אולי אוכל להילחם בו וגרשתיו. - And God came to Bilam and said: Who are these men with you? And Bilam said to God: Balak son of Tzipor, king of Moav, has sent to me, saying: Behold, the people that came out of Egypt has covered the face of the land; now come, curse them for me, perhaps I will be able to fight against them and drive them out.
And note the first answer:
ויאמר אלוקים אל בלעם: לא תלך עמהם, לא תאור את העם כי ברוך הוא. - And God said to Bilam: You shall not go with them, you shall not curse the people, for they are blessed.
We will skip a few pesukim. Bilam tells the messengers: the Holy One does not agree, it is impossible. Balak sends other, more distinguished officials, and Bilam tells them: "Stay here tonight as well, and I will know what more Hashem will speak with me." In other words, wait, we will make contact again and see what the Creator thinks now. And here comes the second answer:
ויבוא אלוקים אל בלעם לילה ויאמר לו: אם לקרוא לך באו האנשים, קום לך איתם, ואך את הדבר אשר אדבר אליך אותו תעשה. - And God came to Bilam at night and said to him: If the men have come to call you, arise and go with them, but only the thing that I speak to you, that shall you do.
You just told him "do not go with them," and now suddenly "arise and go with them"? One might say that the Creator changed His mind. Let us check whether that is correct. "And Bilam arose in the morning and saddled his donkey and went with the officials of Moav." He did what Hashem told him, so how could Hashem become angry? And yet: "And the anger of God flared because he was going." And what does "because he was going" mean? That he went 'with' them and not 'together with' them.
ויתייצב מלאך ה' בדרך לשטן לו, והוא רוכב על אתונו ושני נעריו עמו. - And an angel of Hashem stationed himself in the way as an adversary to him, and he was riding on his donkey, and his two lads were with him.
There the story of the donkey unfolds, the donkey that saw the angel while Bilam did not see it, and the argument between them. And finally: "And Bilam said to the angel of Hashem: I have sinned, for I did not know that you were standing opposite me in the way, and now, if it is evil in your eyes, I will return." Is there a problem? I am ready to go back home. And here again the matter reverses:
ויאמר מלאך ה' אל בלעם: לך עם האנשים, ואפס את הדבר אשר אדבר אליך אותו תדבר. וילך בלעם עם שרי בלק. - And the angel of Hashem said to Bilam: Go with the men, but only the thing that I speak to you, that shall you speak. And Bilam went with the officials of Balak.
And "efes" here is not meant as a rebuke, but rather "and only" the thing that I speak to you, that shall you speak. But the overall picture is puzzling: do not go, do go, do not go, do go. One could say He was making a mockery of him, poking a bit of fun at him, but you will agree with me that this does not sound very logical.
The Jewish Servant: Why the Master Must Give His Servant What He Gives Himself
Let us move to another teaching of Chazal, through which we will understand both the passage of Bilam and other pesukim. There is a halachah that the master is obligated to provide for his Jewish servant exactly as he provides for himself. The Torah says: 'And it shall be, if he says to you, I will not go out from you, for he loves you and your household, for it is good for him with you,' and then one may keep the servant for a further period, to pierce his ear with an awl, and so on. And note the teaching of Chazal, which is itself astonishing: The Rabbis taught, 'for it is good for him with you' - with you in food, with you in drink. That you should not eat fine bread while he eats coarse bread (today coarse bread and barley bread are considered superior, the more natural the better; but in earlier times it was regarded as animal fodder). That you should not eat delicacies while you throw him the leftovers. You drink aged wine and he new wine - you with a bottle from 1974 and he getting one from 1986. You sleep on soft bedding and he on straw - you set up a paradise for yourself and an old mattress for the servant.
From here they said: whoever acquires a Jewish servant is like one who acquires a master for himself. You thought you bought someone to serve you? Take into account that you bought yourself a boss. Today every employer knows this feeling: the demands arrive immediately, what is coming to me, vacations, meal allowances, even before he has started working. But in the time of the Torah this was not accepted at all, and the Torah requires it. And here is the question: all of this is seemingly not written in the pasuk. From where did Chazal derive that the master must give the servant exactly as he gives himself? Where did we hear such a thing?
The Difference Between 'Im' and 'Et'
In the Holy Tongue there is an enormous difference between 'ito' and 'imo.' To go 'im' (with) means for the same intention and the same purpose, in complete equality. To go 'et' means that each one is going toward a different goal, and we are merely partners in the road but not partners in the objective. I can go with you to Jerusalem when I am going to the mall and you are going to King George; but if I went 'imcha' to a wedding, it means that both of us went for the same purpose, to gladden the groom and bride.
And now notice how the whole episode of Bilaam becomes clear. At first: "And God said to Bilaam, do not go with them, do not curse the people" - "with them," meaning with the same intent, for the purpose of cursing. Under no circumstances do I permit you to go and curse Israel. Later Bilaam asks again: "And God came to Bilaam at night and said to him, if the men have come to call you, rise and go with them." The Creator of the world did not change His mind at all. He stands by His position: "with them" (with their aim) - no. But "along with them," without sharing their purpose, that I permit. "But only the thing that I speak to you, that you shall do."
And what happens next? "And Bilaam rose in the morning and saddled his donkey and went with the officers of Moav." Did he do what Hashem told him? And immediately: "And God's anger flared because he was going" - going with them in shared purpose, and not merely alongside them. "And an angel of Hashem stationed himself in the way as an adversary to him, and he was riding on his donkey and his two lads were with him." And finally, after Bilaam persists: "And the angel of Hashem said to Bilaam, go with the men, but only the thing that I speak to you, that you shall speak." This is precisely where Rashi comments: in the way a person wishes to go, he is led. I told you no; you persist and want to go "with" them? Go "with" them, but in the end you will see that you lose. And so indeed: "And Bilaam went with the officers of Balak."
Now let us return to the Sages' teaching about the slave and see how precise the words are. Had the Torah said "for it is good for him alongside you," I would understand it: I will look after myself as I see fit, and for him I will arrange some second hand "alte zachen" so that he has somewhere to sleep. But the Torah says "for it is good for him with you" - "with you" is complete equality. Therefore you should not drink old wine while he drinks new, you should not eat fine bread while he eats coarse bread, you should not sleep on mattresses while he sleeps on straw. The teaching rests precisely on the word.
By this same principle the Gemara also explains the Holy One, blessed be He's forgiveness of Shaul. Shaul sinned by inquiring of the necromancer (we will learn about this, with Hashem's help), and also by not wiping out Amalek and by not waiting with the offering. Rabbi Yochanan said: from where do we know that the Holy One, blessed be He, forgave him? As it is said, "Tomorrow you and your sons will be with me" - these are the words of Shmuel to Shaul through the necromancer. "With me," say the Sages, means within my partition. For "with" means absolute equality, the two of us together in the same partition.
And here is a verse that beautifully illustrates how the author of the book plays between "with" and "alongside": "And Shimi ben Gera the Benjaminite, who was from Bachurim, hurried and went down with the men of Yehuda to meet King David" - he went down "with" the men of Yehuda, for Shimi was an important man and the men of Yehuda were important as well. "And a thousand men from Binyamin were with him" - they too were important men. But "and Tziva, the servant of the house of Shaul, and his fifteen sons and his twenty slaves were alongside him" - here we are dealing with slaves, and when a slave follows his master he goes "alongside" him and not "with" him, because there is a difference in status. And afterward: "And they crossed the Jordan before the king."
Another example: "And with Avshalom went two hundred men from Jerusalem who were invited and went along." Avshalom, who rebelled against his father David, took two hundred men with him to help him, except that they had no idea they were going to rebel. The king's son said to them, come along with me, and they came along with him innocently. And since they did not come with knowledge to rebel, it says "and alongside Avshalom" and not "with Avshalom" - for "with Avshalom" would mean sharing the aim of the rebellion. Anyone who goes through the Tanach in an orderly way will see this distinction again and again. When you know the code and know the language, you understand; and when the code is not clear to you, you stand puzzled as to why the text changes its wording and why the Sages expound a teaching that seemingly is not in the text.
"Perhaps" and "lest": what did Eliezer really ask?
Another example, from the recent weekly portions. Avraham asks Eliezer to find a bride for Yitzchak, and Eliezer asks what seems an innocent question: "Perhaps the woman will not be willing to follow me to this land; shall I then bring your son back to the land from which you came?" That is: and if I try to persuade her and she says that Charan suits her better than the Land of Israel, shall I return Yitzchak there? And Avraham answers that under no circumstances.
On this the Sages expound a teaching that seemingly sounds like a blood libel: he said "perhaps she will not be willing" - and he wished to give him his own daughter. He said to him: you are accursed and my son is blessed, and the accursed cannot cleave to the blessed (Bereishit Rabbah). That is: Eliezer had an interest, he had a daughter, and he was an important and wealthy man, Eliezer of Damascus. And if she does not agree - perhaps my daughter for Yitzchak after all? And Avraham answers: you are accursed, for you come from Canaan, and of Canaan it is said "cursed be Canaan," and the accursed cannot cleave to the blessed. The question begs itself: from where did the Sages determine that Eliezer had such an intention? After all, it is not written.
Let us examine closely the difference between "perhaps" (ulai) and "lest" (pen). Here are some instances of "perhaps": "Come now to my maidservant, perhaps I will be built up through her"; "perhaps there are fifty righteous within the city"; "perhaps I can atone for your sin"; "perhaps I will be able to fight against him and drive him out"; "perhaps Hashem will happen upon me and show me something." And against them "lest," which appears in Scripture 128 times (I did not count them; today software does it easily): "lest he stretch out his hand and take from the tree of life"; "lest we be scattered over the face of the whole earth"; "lest you be swept away in the iniquity of the city"; "lest you bring my son back there"; "lest he come and strike me, mother with children." What is the common denominator of the one column versus the other?
The difference is simple: "perhaps" is something I want to happen, from the sense of "if only." "Lest" is something I do not want, God forbid that it should happen. And this is completely systematic: "perhaps I will be built up through her" - if only; "perhaps there are fifty righteous" - if only; and so with all of them. Whereas "lest he stretch out his hand and take from the tree of life and live forever" - therefore man is driven out of the Garden of Eden; "lest we be scattered"; "lest you be swept away." Always something I do not desire.
And now let us examine Eliezer according to the rule that you yourselves formulated: "perhaps the woman will not be willing to follow me" - meaning, if only she will not be willing. And how can this be? He is Avraham's faithful servant, "all that he had he placed in his hand," the keys to all his treasures were in his hands, Avraham trusted him with eyes closed and sent him to take a wife for his son. Is there greater faithfulness than this? To this the Sages come and say: he has a daughter, and he wants his daughter to marry Yitzchak and thereby inherit all of Avraham's wealth - and for this reason he used "perhaps."
There is yet another source for this derashah. When Eliezer recounts to Lavan and to his family the meeting and Avraham's words, it says: 'And I said to my master, ulai.' Notice the difference in spelling: here it is written in a defective form, and if we ignore the vowels we can read the word as 'elai,' meaning 'to me.' That is: perhaps the woman will not follow me, and then in the end she will come to me, for I have a daughter. Once again you see that Chazal had sources in the actual text. When you read correctly and know how to distinguish between 'ulai' (perhaps) and 'pen' (lest), you hold the key to the source of the derashah. There are two objections to this rule, and there are answers to them, but for lack of time we will not go into that now; whoever wishes, I will show him afterward.
The Principle of Minimalism: 'Asher Chai'
Let us examine two pesukim. 'And all the days of Adam that he lived were nine hundred years and thirty years, and he died' - Adam lived 930 years, whereas he was supposed to live a thousand. Seventy years were subtracted from him, and we will soon check why. 'And these are the days of the years of Avraham's life that he lived, a hundred years and seventy years and five years' - 175 years, may it be so for us, and yet Chazal will say that he was supposed to live more.
What do Chazal say about Adam? The Holy One, blessed be He, passed all the generations before him. He showed him David, whose life was allotted only three hours. Adam fell on his face and said: Master of the Universe, is there no remedy for this one? He said to him: This is how it arose in My thought. Adam said to him: How many are the days of the years of my life? That is, how much of a term do I get. He said to him: A thousand years. Adam said: Is there a gift in heaven? He said to him: Yes. Adam said: Let seventy years of my years be given to this fortunate one. And according to the Kabbalists, David is the reincarnation of Adam, and therefore Adam (Adam) is an acronym for Adam, David, Mashiach, and with the coming of Mashiach the sin of Adam will be rectified (but that is a lecture in itself, on reincarnations). The question is: where is all this written? 'He lived 930 years and died' - who says he was supposed to live a thousand and gave seventy?
And likewise with Avraham: Rabbi Yehudah in the name of Rabbi Aibo, and Rabbi Pinchas in the name of Rabbi Levi, and Rabbi Yochanan in the name of Rabbi Simon: You find that Avraham lived 175 years and Yitzchak 180. Why did Yitzchak live longer than his father? Rather, those five years the Holy One, blessed be He, withheld from his life, because Esav committed two transgressions (we will not go into the details now). The Holy One, blessed be He, said: This is how I promised Avraham a good old age; better that he depart in peace. This is what is meant by 'For Your kindness is better than life.' The conclusion: Avraham was supposed to live 180 and five years were subtracted from him so that he would not see his son go astray. This too is not written explicitly.
Let us look closely at the language of the verse. 'And all the days of Adam that he lived' - the two words 'that he lived' seem superfluous; it could have said 'And all the days of Adam were nine hundred years and thirty years, and he died.' And likewise 'And these are the days of the years of Avraham's life that he lived.' And know this principle: if Tanach can express something in two words, it will never express it in three; and if it expressed it in three, the extra word comes to teach us something. This is the principle of minimalism. The author of the book was precise and economical to the point of miserliness, and did not write a superfluous word. The fool multiplies words and babbles, while the wise man counts his words - a fence for wisdom is silence. And when it nevertheless goes on at length, I must ask what it wanted to gain by it.
And according to this: 'And all the days of Adam that he lived' - what he actually lived. That is, he was supposed to live more, and how much did he live in the end? 930 years, and he died. And likewise 'And these are the days of the years of Avraham's life that he lived' - he was supposed to live more, and this is what he actually lived, 175 years. And this joins another rule: the Holy One, blessed be He, said to Adam 'On the day you eat from it you shall surely die,' and in fact he lived 930 years. Was the command of the Creator of the world not fulfilled? Chazal say, it says 'For a thousand years in Your eyes are like yesterday when it passes, and like a watch in the night' - for the Holy One, blessed be He, a day is a thousand years, and two days two thousand. (They tell of one who approached an angel and asked: How long is a second in heaven? He said to him: A million years. And how much is a shekel in heaven? A million shekels. He said to him: Do me a favor, give me a shekel. He said to him: No problem, wait a second.) It emerges that 'on the day you eat' means a thousand years, and Adam lived 930 - seventy are missing. And when you check in the verses who is the man from whom seventy years were missing, you arrive at King David. Once again you see that in order to understand the derashah of Chazal you must learn the language of the author of Scripture and his manner of expression.
'And the King of Egypt Died': A Metzora Is Considered as Dead
Let us see two more interesting things. 'And it came to pass in those days that the king of Egypt died, and the children of Israel groaned from the labor, and they cried out, and their cry rose up to God from the labor.' What happened to the king of Egypt? He died, so we read, because we are not familiar with the language of Tanach. And likewise 'In the year of the death of King Uzziahu I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne high and lofty, and its train filled the Heichal.' But Chazal say regarding 'and the king of Egypt died' that he became a metzora, and a metzora is considered as dead; and likewise regarding Uzziahu: and why did Scripture call him dead? Rather, that he became a metzora. And seemingly, why remove the verse from its plain meaning? It says he died, so let us explain that he died.
First, what lies at the root of the matter: a dead person is one who is cut off from life, and the metzora too is cut off. They would take him outside the camp, no one would approach him, tzaraat is contagious and dangerous, his whole body exposed - a terrible and dreadful state. Up until about fifty years ago there was in Jerusalem a hospital for metzoraim, and people would not approach there. Rav Aryeh Levin, the rabbi of the prisoners, the father-in-law of Rav Elyashiv, who was the rabbi of the underground prisoners in the British period, the rebels of the Acre prison, was among the few who would come there to encourage and strengthen. They tell that a man saw him leave in the middle of the funeral of one of the great ones of Israel to buy a flowerpot. And here an important note: it is written in Chazal that when you see a person do a puzzling thing - ask him. It is much worse to leave it with yourself, for then your own interpretation will condemn him: insensitive, everyone is mourning and he goes to buy a flowerpot. If you ask, it is quite possible that you will receive an explanation that will set your mind at ease. And indeed that man asked, and the rabbi said to him: Good that you asked. And he told him that he was caring for a man in that hospital for metzoraim in Jerusalem and putting tefillin on him, a man in a terrible and dreadful state, without hands and without feet, to whom he was very attached.
And from where indeed do we know that a metzora is considered as dead? From the verse: 'And behold the cloud had departed from over the tent, and behold Miriam was leprous as snow. And Aharon turned toward Miriam, and behold she was leprous' - and why did she become a metzora? For speaking lashon hara about Moshe. 'And Aharon said to Moshe: Please, my lord, do not place upon us the sin in which we have been foolish and in which we have sinned. Let her not be like the dead one, who when he comes out of his mother's womb, half his flesh is consumed.' We see that the metzora is regarded as dead. But you will still ask: dead could also be dead in its plain sense, and from where do we know that here specifically he became a metzora?
The answer is from a verse in Kohelet: 'No man has power over the spirit to retain the spirit, and there is no dominion over the day of death, and there is no discharge in war, and wickedness will not save its owners.' We will not go into the entire verse, but it says in it 'and there is no dominion over the day of death' - a man who dies is no longer considered a king. Rabbi Levi said: Close to fifty-two times it is written 'and King David,' and once he neared death it is written 'And the days of David drew near to die' - where is 'the king'? Because 'there is no dominion over the day of death.' And likewise 'And David slept with his fathers and was buried in the city of David,' and it does not say King David; and likewise 'And Chizkiyahu slept with his fathers,' and not King Chizkiyahu.
Now return to our pasuk: "And it came to pass in those days that the king of Egypt died." If he died in the plain sense, why is he called "king" here? It should have written "and Pharaoh died." The very fact that he is called "king of Egypt" teaches that he was still alive; and if he was alive, how can it say "and he died"? There is one situation in which a person is dead and yet alive, and that is the metzora. Behold, the derasha of Chazal is in fact written in the text itself, provided you hold the right index by which to read it. So too with Uziyahu: "In the year that King Uziyahu died" - if he died, how was he king? Rather, he did not die in the plain sense but was stricken with tzaraat. And in his case the matter is even clearer, for it is stated explicitly "and the tzaraat broke out on his forehead." There is one more slide, but perhaps for another occasion.
In summary:
From all that we have seen we have learned that understanding the pesukim is no trivial matter. This is not a text that you read and imagine you have understood; on the contrary, it is precisely our knowledge of Hebrew that creates the difficulty, for we think we understand when in fact we do not truly understand. The distinctions between "im" and "et," between "ulai" and "pen," the principle of minimalism whereby not a single superfluous word is written, and the precise reading of "met" who did not die in the plain sense - all these reveal that the derashot of Chazal are not an addition from the outside but are rooted in the very text. When you learn the language of Tanach and understand that every word comes to express something specific, you look at Tanach through different lenses: the understanding is different, the depth is different, and the fine nuances that the author of the book hints at through changes of words and meaning turn the study into an experience entirely different from anything we experienced in school. I wish for all of us that we continue, with God's help, in these lessons, and that we open Sefer Yehoshua.