Benjamins Necks “ In Genesis 45:14, after the emotionally charged scene in which Joseph reveals his true identity to his brothers, it is related: And Joseph fell upon the neck [Â¥isis of Benjamin his brother and he wept. And Benjamin wept upon his neck [Â¥lNls]. In a number of talmudic works we find attached to this verse a dic- tum explaining that Joseph was weeping for the two Temples that would be destroyed; and Benjamin was weeping over the destruction of the sanctuary at Shiloh . Underlying these comments are the widespread midrashic assumptions that the biblical protagonists function as transhistorical archetypes repre- senting eternal themes and values,S and that central personages of the Israel- ite past were endowed with varying degrees of prophetic inspiration, able to discern the future in their present experiences. More fundamental to our understanding of this passage is a technical point of Hebrew grammatical style. The Hebrew word that we translate as neck, savvar, is often treated as a plural form. The use of singular and plural is, like everything else in a divinely written text, believed to be not accidental. The midrash is also alluding to some basic historical facts: the Temples in Jerusalem were housed in the tribal territory of Benjamin, while the sanctuary at Shiloh was situated in the region of Josephs son Ephraim. If we bear in mind all the above factors, it is not difficult to understand how the homilist, inspired by the plural usage of Joseph weeping on (or, as the Hebrew permits, over) Benjamins necks, discerned in this episode a prophetic insight into the future destiny of Benjamins children. Now all this works very neatly for the first part of the text, wherein Joseph laments over the two necks/temples of Benjamin. The second part, however, is more problematic. Benjamin is weeping over a single destroyed sanctuary. This would fit nicely if the word for neck appeared there in the singular form. Unfortunately, though, it does not. The symmetry of the homily, and its exegetical logic, are hence marred. Commentators over the ages have tried their hands at solving the problem. Several have drawn the conclusion that underlying the midrashic interpretations was a biblical text which did actually switch from the plural to the singular form, thereby sup- plying the basis for the homily. Unfortunately, no such text is known to have e x is t e d . Thus we find Rashi, in his explanation of the version of the passage in the Babylonian Talmud Megillah 16b, doctoring the talmudic text, which began with the rhetorical objection How many necks did Benjamin have?! Rashi insists that the question be deleted, since the plural usage of neck is the rule rather than an exception. Ignoring for the moment the fact that the objectionable question is attested in all known manuscripts of the Talmud except for those which consistently accept Rashis emendations, it is clear (as some of the traditional commentators have observed) that in solving the one difficulty, Rashi has created another: i.e., without the emphasis on the singulars and plurals, there is no longer any visible textual basis for the h o m i l y ! We might add a further objection. Allowing that the usage of singular and plural forms is of significance here, can we say the same of the homileti- cal equation between necks and sanctuaries? While midrashic associations can be built at times on the flimsiest of pretexts, a more substantial semantic similarity would have been preferable. The passages before us lack such semantic connection, a fact which constitutes a serious flaw in their aesthetic symmetry. Enter the Zohar. In its discourse on the relevant passage in Genesis (Vayyigash 209b), we find the following: R. Isaac proceeded to discourse on the verse: Thy neck is like the tower of David builded with turrets, whereon there hang a thousand shields, all the armor of the mighty men [Cant. 4:4]. The tower of David, he said, signifies the heavenly Jerusalem, of which it is written: The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runneth into it, and is set up on high [Prov. 18:10]; the phrase on high pointing to the tower above. Thy neck signifies the Temple below, which stands as the perfection of beauty like the neck in the human body. Just as the neck constitutes the beauty of the body, so does the Temple contain the beauty of the whole world. Builded with turrets [Heb. talpiyyot, which suggests: mound of mouths], that is, a mound toward which all men turn their gaze when they open their mouths to offer prayer and praise . Whereupon there hang a thousand shields, alluding to the thousand cosmic together of appropriate biblical and rabbinic quotations to make its point, that we might easily overlook the authors solution to the technical problem that flawed the midrashic homily upon which his own is based: the problem of the two necks, How does Rabbi Moses de Leon explain his sources failure to supply an appropriate exegetical basis for Benjamins weeping over the destruction of the sanctuary at Shiloh? His solution to the difficulty is to be found in the following paragraph of the Zohar: Scripture thus tells us, And he kissed all his brethren, and wept upon them [Gen. 45:15], that is to say, for them. He wept for all of them, for the twofold de- struction of the Temple and for his brethren the ten tribes that went into exile and were scattered among the nations. The implied answer, of course, is that he chooses not to salvage the problematic midrash at all, but rather to supply one of his own. Instead of focusing on the inconsistencies in the use of the singular and plural forms of Benjamins necks, for which (following Rashis critique) there is no convinc- ing grammatical or textual justification, Rabbi Moses de Leon elects to build his homily on a comparison between the two different weepings by Joseph. In verse 14 he weeps over Benjamins necks; i.e., over the destruc- tion of the two Temples; while in verse 15, and he kissed all his brethren, and wept upon them, over the exile of the entire nation. The midrashic exposition of Benjamins lament on Josephs neck is exegetically unwarrant- ed, and therefore best ignored. The Zohars own reference to the twofold destruction is now simply a historical fact, rather than the product of dubious exegesis. By choosing this option, Rabbi Moses de Leon is able to broaden the thematic range of his discourse. Rather than dwelling upon the single motif of the loss of the Temple, he can direct his derashah to a highly effective analysis of the Exile, a topic which may have been of more imme- diate relevance to his target audience, and one which is central to the sym- bolism of the Zohar as a whole. But there is a further dimension to the Zohars aptitude for creative midrash. Rabbi Moses de Leons agility at pulling together relevant scrip- tural texts inspired him to produce yet another original homiletical variation on our passage, one which adds a further set of insights to the theme. Elsewhere in Genesis is found another description of brothers falling in tears upon each others necks: in the encounter between Esau and Jacob, following the latters long sojourn away from home (Gen. 33:4). Here, however, we find that the unvocalized word for neck is actually in the singular, though the traditional pronunciation, the qere, instructs us to read it as plural, precisely like the wording of the Joseph-Benjamin episode. The similarity of style is not lost on Rabbi Moses de Leon. It is here, according to the Zohar, that we should look for significance. Esau-who according to the venerable Jewish typology is identified with the wicked Roman Empire,I2 responsible for the destruction of the Second Temple-is provid- ing a prophetic foreshadowing of the fact that one (and only one) Temple is destined to be destroyed by Rome. The text (Vayyishlah 17 1 b) may be sug- gesting that this tragedy came as a punishment for Jacobs excessive readiness to submit and humble himself before his evil brother.I3 And Esau ran to meet him. and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him; and they wept. The shorter form $avvaro [singular] is written here instead of [the plural] savvarav . Said Rabbi Isaac: . . . One neck” this is Jerusalem, which is the neck of the universe. He fell on his neck rather than on his necks. For the Temple was destroyed twice, once by Babylonia and once by the seed of Esau, who fell upon it one time and destroyed it. Hence: And he fell on his neck-a single one. The Zohars exegetical achievement here is impressive. Rabbi Moses de Leons obvious familiarity with the full biblical corpus allows him to move beyond the confines of the particular chapter which he is expounding. By looking earlier in Genesis, and ahead to the Song of Songs, Proverbs, and elsewhere, he is able to disclose patterns that were not readily visible to other exegetes, and he succeeds in creating an aesthetically appealing and thematically integrated homily. And, I venture to suggest, it is not unlikely that he may in fact have, in some of the instances,I4 correctly reconstructed the original intentions of the midrashic homilists . In true midrashic fashion, he has presented the reader with two alternative homilies, distribut- ed in two different places in the Zohar. Since Rabbi Moses de Leon is presenting his work not as a commentary, but as a talmudic midrash in its own right, he need not confine himself to explaining the words of his predecessors. He is free to compose his own midrashim, ones that are from various perspectives superior to the ones that appear in our talmudic and midrashic texts. By comparing Josephs weeping over Benjamin to Jacobs weeping over Esau, rather than to Benjamins over Joseph, he has again produced a homily that is at least as poignant as the original, and yet free from the difficulties that encumbered the talmudic interpretations. Note that the Zohar is not unique in citing the Song of Songs in a similar context. According to a tradition brought in Canticles Rabbah 7:5 and allud- ed to in Genesis Rabbah 3:9, Song of Songs 7:5, Thy neck is as a tower of ivory, is cited in order to prove a very different point. [Esau] wished t o bite [Jacob], but our father Jacobs neck was transformed into marble, and the teeth of that wicked man were blunted and softened like wax. Why is it written and they wept? Rather, one [Jacob] was weeping for his neck, while the other [Esau] was weeping for his teeth. R . Abahu in the name of R. Eleazar proved it from here: Thy neck is as a tower of ivory.h The contrast between the respective uses of the verse in the midrash and in the Zohar could hardly be clearer. Both employ a similar method of asso- ciation, searching for texts that juxtapose necks and towers. The midrash uses it to build an amusing, but not terribly edifying, slapstick that may have served to satisfy some of its audiences frustrated rage against Roman oppression. In the Zohar, it becomes a profound and sensitive statement that emphasizes the sanctity of the Jerusalem Temple, the tragedy of its de- struction, and the inexorable fatalism that determined Esau/Romes role in that greatest of Jewish national (and, for the Zohar, cosmic) catastrophes. Counting the Omer As our next example, let us look at the Zohars treatment of another pentateuchal passage, this time the law in Leviticus 23:9-22 which pre- scribes the ritual of the omer. The biblical text, elaborated in rabbinic tradi- tion, speaks of a complex structure of precepts and symbols: the harvesting of an omer of barley; its being brought and waved before the Lord by the priest on the morrow of the sabbath of Passover to the accompaniment of specified sacrifices; the permitting of the new grain-crop, which has hitherto been forbidden; the counting of seven weeks from the day of the bringing of the omer, and the offering of the two loaves of bread (shtei ha-lehem) made of leavened wheat-flour on the fiftieth day, along with the accompanying sacrifices. An ancient halakhic tradition identifies the feast of Shavuot with the day of the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai, a fact which influenced the interpretations which were subsequently given to the law of the ower and which defined the festival in the liturgy as the time of the giving of our Torah. Given the rabbinic emphasis on the connection between Pentecost and the Sinaitic revelation, one would expect that the rituals of the omer would be interpreted in the same context. It therefore comes as something of a sur- prise that the omer, as far as I have been able to discern, is not interpreted as anything other than a purely agricultural ritual of thanksgiving. In the standard works of the talmudic period we d o not find any statements which link the rationale for the counting of the omer to the revelation at Mount Sinai.I8 This theme, as we shall observe below, was to assume importance at a later date, and would be cited by some medieval authors in the name of the Midrash. The connection between the counting of the omer and the receiving of the Torah was expounded by Maimonides in the Guide o f the Perplexed 111:49. Shavuot is the day of the receiving of the Torah, and because of the greatness and exaltedness of the day, we count the days from the first of the festivals until this occasion, just as one who is expecting his most intimate friend on a certain day counts the days and even the hours. It is for this reason that we count the days that pass following the offering of the omer, between the anni- versary of our departure from Egypt and the anniversary of the Lawgiving. The latter was the aim and object of the Exodus from Egypt, and thus did God say, / brought you unto myself [Exod. 19:4]. Maimonides interpretation is founded on a straightforward psychological observation about the connection between anticipation and counting days. The Z o h a r presents a very similar interpretation of the relationship between the counting of the o m e r and the receiving of the Torah, but with its own distinctive approach.I9 And you shall count from the morrow of the sabbath. . . . Come and see: When Israel were in Egypt they were in the power of the Other Side [i.e., the forces of evil], and they were held in a state of uncleanness like a woman when she sits during her days of uncleanness. After being circumcised they entered the domain of holiness which is called Covenant [berit], and when they united with it the impurity ceased from them, even as a woman when the blood of her impurity ceases from her. After it has ceased what is written? And she shall count seven days [Lev. 15:28]-so also here, when they had entered the holy domain, their uncleanness ceased from them and the Holy One said: From now on there is a counting for purity. And you shall count for yoursel1~e.t- precisely for yourselves, as it is written, and she shall count for herself seven days-for herself, for her own sake; so also in our instance: for your- selves, for your own sakesz0 And why? In order to be cleansed by the sacred It is probably safe to assume that Rabbi Moses de Leons point of departure was the exposition of Maimonides. It will therefore be instructive to discern how his treatment of the subject differs from the Maimonidean explanation of the commandment. As in our previous example, the novelty of Rabbi Moses de Leons approach is fueled initially by his creative use of stylistic associations, which leads him to ponder similar phraseology elsewhere in the Bible. In this case, he is building upon the fact that one of the few other instances in the Torah of a command to count days occurs with regard to the woman who has become unclean and must count seven clean days before she is permitted to resume relations with her husband. The male-female relationship fits well into the standard mythology of the Zohar, which repeatedly compared the Shekhinah, the mystical representation of the divine presence among the Jewish people, to a woman who has been separated from her husband the King (the main body of the sefirot structure, especially the sefirah Tiferet). The mission of restoring unity in the divine realm is, of course, the central theme of kabbalistic religiosity, and this blends well with the perception of the Sinaitic theophany as a unique marriage between G o d and His people. This kind of erotic imagery is typical of the Zohar.2 The association with matters of purity and defilement also leads naturally to the identifica- tion of Egypt as an embodiment of uncleanness, a motif which has firm roots in early rabbinic tradition,22 and which is elaborated elsewhere in the Zohar. 2 3 The author of the Zohar, it must be observed, was not the only medieval exegete to note the stylistic parallels between Lev. 23:15 and 15:28. Nah- manides commentary to Lev. 23: 1524 contains a detailed discussion of the various types of counting that are commanded by the Torah. And you shall count lakhem [unto you]-The meaning thereof is similar to the expression And you shall take lakhem [Lev. 23:40], thus establishing that the counting [of the forty-nine days of the omer] and the taking [of the lulav, etrog, etc., on the festival of Tabernacles] be done by each and every person. Thus the counting must be done by word of mouth, and he should mention the number, just as our rabbis25 have received it by tradition. This is unlike the expressions and he shall count to himself seven days for his cleansing [Lev. 25: 131; then she shall number to herselfseven days, because if they so wish, they may remain in their impurity; they must only beware not t o forget their impurity. Nahmanides, while noting the similarity of wording, is careful to empha- size the vital difference between the counting of the omer and the enumera- tion of days of impurity. In the latter case, the counting does not constitute an obligation per se. It is prescribed only if the individual wishes to became ritually pure, or if he or she plans to perform an activity that requires leviti- cal fitness. By contrast, the verbal counting of the omer is an absolute duty in its own right. As regards the strictly halakhic concepts involved. Nahmanides analysis appears to be correct. It nonetheless leaves itself open to a serious objection. If the legal status of the two precepts is really so different, then how are we to account for a similarity of phraseology-for yourselves/herself -that seems to suggest misleadingly that the counting of the omer is also an optional practice proposed for the convenience of the i n d i vi d u a l ? Nah- manides offers no clear justification for the phenomenon. Undoubtedly, the Zohar is responding to the difficulties that were impli- cit in Nahmanides exegesis. On a strictly halakhic level, the two laws may indeed function differently; on an aggadic plane, however, there exists a pro- found parallelism. Just as the procedures for menstrual purification were set down for the convenience of the woman, in order to permit the resumption of conjugal relationships, so was the counting of the omer established in consideration for the spiritual yearning of the Israelites for intimate knowl- edge of G o d as manifested in the revelation of the Torah. The advantages of the pseudepigraphic presentation are again evident. Instead of merely composing a supercommentary or critical gloss to Nah- manides, Rabbi Moses de Leon has produced an alternative midrash which takes off from the same stylistic observations as his predecessor, but suc- ceeds in organizing the material in such a manner that he is able not only to sidestep the weakness of Nahmanides explanation, but actually to turn them to his advantage, integrating them with other thematic elements in order to produce a homily that is fully consistent with the Zohars distinctive religious symbolism. A significant difference between the Zohar and Maimonides lies in their respective treatments of the historical dimension of the ritual.27 Maimonides is careful to note that it is we who do the counting from Passover to Pentecost, as distinct from the original Israelites at the time of the Exodus, who were presumably unaware then of the precise date on which the Torah was scheduled to be revealed. By explaining the precept in this manner, he is establishing a distance between the one-time events of the Exodus and the permanent rituals that have been established to commemorate these events. The anticipation of the Sinaitic revelation on Shavuot did not form part of the consciousness of the liberated Israelites; it is a feeling that is inspired only by the hindsight of subsequent generations, who are conscious of the significance of the respective festivals. Thus, the commemoration here (as distinct from rituals like the Passover seder) is not intended to be a full re- enactment of the feelings of the generation of the Exodus. Such fine distinctions of historical perspective may be suitable for a rationalist scholar like M a i m o n i d e, but they are probably too subtle to serve the more immediate homiletical ends of supplying inspiration and motivation for the religious observances of ordinary Jews. It was probably a similar consideration that prompted the following variation on Maimon- ides interpretation, cited in the Italian halakhic compendium Shibbolei ha-Leqet by Rabbi Zedekiah ben R. Abraham ha-Rofeh, a work roughly contemporary with the Zohar. And it states in an aggadic midrash: Why did Scripture connect the day of Shavuot t o counting, something it did with no other festival? This is because when Israel were told that they would be leaving Egypt, it was announced that they would be receiving the Torah a t the end of fifty days after the Exodus, as it says: When you take the people out of Egypt you shall worship God upon this mountain [Exod. 3:12]. Now the nun of taabdun seems superfluous. Rather, it comes t o teach you that a t the end of fifty days [fifty is the numerical value of the letter nun] you shall worship G o d , that you shall receive the Torah. And Israel, out of its love, would count each day, saying: Behold, one day has passed, and the second day, and so throughout; because t o them it seemed like a long time, owing to their great yearning. For this reason the counting was established for subsequent generations. Through the use of a simple gimatria, the author of this midrash is able to demonstrate that the date of the Lawgiving had already been revealed to Moses at the outset of his career. Accordingly, the children of Israel spent the period leading to that event impatiently counting the days, an experience which later generations of Jews would reenact annually in the ritual of the counting of the omer. For the Zohar, the connections between past and present are so per- vasive as not to require any explanation. The Israelites were aware not only that they would be receiving the Torah in fifty days, but also of the process of mystical sanctification which they would have to undergo in preparation for that event. It is this point which accounts for what is perhaps the most significant change which Rabbi Moses de Leon has introduced into his explanation vis-a-vis Maimonides. This concerns the very function of the counting. For Maimonides, the counting is an expression of longing for the coming of the revelation. Other than giving utterance to the peoples religious devotion to the Torah, the ritual is perceived as essentially a static one that leaves the individuals unchanged. By contrast, the Zohar envisages the counting as part of a powerful and dynamic cleansing process, by means of which the Jew is elevated from the depths of defilement to the heights of holiness. This is the process through which the ancient Israelites prepared themselves to stand before Mount Sinai, and (by implication) the path which can bring every Jew to the level of revelation. What Rabbi Moses de Leon has done, at the most fundamental level, is to transform Maimonides theoretical historical explanation of the omer law into a true homily, one that succeeds, in an aesthetically constructed literary unit, in conveying the full relevance of the topic to his contemporary audience. The Zohar is not only interpreting the past, but also inspiring and motivating the future religious behavior of its readers. To this extent, Rabbi Moses de Leon is replicating a normal function of classical midrash, as emu- lated by several other medieval sermonizers. Where he seems to excel is in the imaginative palette of techniques that he brings to bear on the task: an immense store of verbal and thematic associations (the counting for men- strual purification, the defilement of Egypt, etc.) and a knack for tying them all together in such a way that the rhetorical techniques effectively serve the purposes of the central theme. The true measure of his success lies in the dimension of inevitability that is evoked by the homily. Everything fits together so neatly that even a critical historical scholar remains haunted by the possibility that these allusions might, after all, have been intended by the biblical author. In spite of these homiletical aims, we should not lose sight of the fact that what transpired at Mount Sinai was for Rabbi Moses de Leon, just as it was for Maimonides, an actual historical event that culminated in the reve- lation of the literal text of the Torah. While this observation might strike us at first as absurdly obvious, it is really not so self-evident. Subsequent com- mentators, whether of rationalist3 or kabbalistic32 leanings, were often un- able to resist the temptation to allegorize the event as a spiritual process that occurs continually within the individual soul. Rabbi Moses de Leons reluc- tance to pursue such a course in this instance may be a further indication of his dependence on Maimonides exposition of the commandment. Closing Remarks The two passages that were examined in the preceding pages were select- ed virtually at random, having been encountered in connection with other topics of our research. The methods that were applied to their analysis were to a large extent the same ones that are routinely employed in the study of talmudic midrash or in the preparation of scholarly editions of medieval biblical commentaries: the identification of the authors likely sources, and the comparison of their product with similar works by their contemporaries. In the case of the Zohar, the tools of midrashic studies proved more useful than those that we apply to normal biblical commentaries. Like the mid- rashim that he strove to emulate, Rabbi Moses de Leon does not tell us directly what he is doing in his derashot; he does not cite his sources by name, nor does he usually disclose why he has opted for a particular interpretation, other than by pinning his comments onto the technical books of midrashic and kabbalistic hermeneutics. To properly appreciate his achievement, we must uncover what he has elected to conceal, comparing his explanations of the various scriptural verses with those of the rabbinic homilists and medieval parashanim with whom we can presume he would have been familiar. On the basis of only two examples, it would hardly be fair to attempt to paint a detailed portrait of Rabbi Moses de Leon the exegete. We are justi- fied, however, in indicating, as a ground for future research, the following features that seem to typify and distinguish the exegetical craft of the Zohar. The author was gifted with an uncanny facility for recalling stylistic and verbal parallels through the length and breadth of the Bible and talmudic literature. Having identified such a formal affinity, he is now able to smoothly translate it into a thematic or conceptual connection. A particular strength of the Zohars artistry is to be found in the naturalness with which he draws the connections. The interpretations, created within the frame- work of accepted midrashic hemeneutical assumptions, and utilizing the rich and variegated symbolisms of the Kabbalah, come across as persuasive and coherent. In his ability to find and synthesize scattered verses and dicta, his method demonstrates a great similarity to that of some of the later mid- rashim, such as the Tanhuma- Yelammedenu, which perform an analogous task of synthesizing individual comments from classical midrashic compi- lations into extended commentaries to the Bible. While the energies of the Zohar are channeled primarily in the directions of kabbalistic hermeneutics and literary homiletics, it also makes a contribu- tion to the textual interpretation of biblical and rabbinic literature. In the texts that we examined above, it was clear not only that the author had a passive familiarity with the relevant comments in the Talmud, Midrash, Rashi, Maimonides, and Nahmanides, but that he had pondered them in considerable depth, noting the various difficulties that arose from the respective interpretations. This important dimension of his achievement becomes apparent only after we take the trouble to identify and compare his sources, and observe how other commentators tried to cope with the same materials. These observations also furnish some insights into one of the more per- plexing problems of Zohar research, namely, the books pseudepigraphic structure. While the most obvious reason for Rabbi Moses de Leons pass- ing off his work as an ancient midrash would be to ensure its acceptance, we noted in both our examples that the literary logic of the Zohars construc- tion offered an additional justification for the disguise. His self-assured handling of the earlier traditions brought him to the conviction that he was capable of composing alternative homilies that surpassed those in the classi- cal sources that he was elaborating and were free from various difficulties to which they were subject. The standard commentary and homiletic genres as practiced in medieval Jewish literature did not offer adequate means of expressing his originality. This aim could only be achieved effectively by pre- senting the Zohar as a work of equal antiquity and authority to the rabbinic midrashim with which it was, at times, competing.” Infinite love! Christ light of love! Light commune with our DNA! Our eyes are the main entrance of light! Sunlight, Christ light of love! Lord Benyahamin! AMIN!
Posted on: Fri, 14 Mar 2014 01:46:32 +0000
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