Religious Roles: Where Sharing Really is Caring

Parshat Naso

 by Rabbi Avi Billet

 The very last verse in our parsha comes after the concluding and summarizing statement of the sacrifices of the princes. And it seems totally out of place.

“When Moses came into the Communion Tent (Ohel Moed) to speak with [God], he would hear the Voice speaking to him from between the two cherubs on the ark cover over the Ark of Testimony. [God] thus spoke to him.” (7:29) 

 There has been no discussion of Moshe and the Ohel Moed. There was no indication of God’s presence communicating from the near the Ark. This little anecdote is coming out of left field.

 The Alshikh notes the odd placement, how this verse is not connected to what came before it nor to what follows it. “The Rabbis noted (in Tanchuma Behaalotkha 5) the connection between the next parsha and the dedication of the Mizbe’ach (altar). They said that Aharon was thinking and was hurt because all of the tribes had representatives bringing sacrifices and he hadn’t brought anything as a representative of Levi. And God told him, ‘Your portion is greater than theirs because B’haalotkha Et HaNerot (8:2) – when you light the candles – you are doing something none of them can do.’”

 With this background tale, the Alshikh notes, the verse about Moshe communicating with God in the Ohel Moed seems to only serves as an unnecessary interruption! God has to give an answer to Aharon based on what has just happened! Not based on Moshe’s ill-placed communication with the Divine!

 Rashi notes the strange format of the verb which describes God’s speech from between the cherubs. The word in the verse is “Mee-daber” (with the ‘chirik’ vowel) instead of “M’daber” (with the double-dotted shva na vowel) which indicates that God was speaking to Himself, and Moshe was allowed to listen in. 

Alshikh finds this problematic. Because it makes it seem as if Moshe does not belong there. Moreover, the verse says “Va’y’daber Eilav” (And He spoke to him), which indicates that God did speak to Moshe and wasn’t just ‘conversing’ with His own entity. The verse is also proof positive to Moshe’s humility. When he came to engage the Almighty in conversation, he was filled with trepidation and was unable to express anything without permission. That God spoke first indicated that God wanted to speak with Moshe as well. 

Now we can begin to understand why the verse about Moshe appears in between Aharon’s pain and Aharon’s vindication. Because Moshe was also a fine representative of the tribe of Levi. And Moshe had similar thoughts as his brother's, over the lack of Levite representation in the dedication of the Mizbe’ach. 

But Moshe did not complain! Before Moshe could even say anything, God would speak to him to show Moshe the special place he had, the special role he played. And that in life, there are other ways to fill what some may consider a lack in the fulfillment of their religious experiences.

 The verse comes to show us that Moshe and Aharon were in a similar boat in their wanting to be as close to God as the tribal leaders. And they just needed a reminder that what they had was pretty good. What they had was unique, a connection to God that no other individuals had.

 What Moshe and Aharon went through was not on the same level as the Korach tale. Moshe and Aharon always wanted to get closer and closer to God. But the tale of the princes was a very human lesson to Moshe and Aharon, that you don’t need to do it all.

 And, to their credit, Moshe and Aharon did not pull their “I’m the leader” card and bring sacrifices anyway. They didn’t inveigle themselves into a role that was not theirs by nature or by God-appointment.

 In shuls, these kinds of challenges come up all the time. Some shuls have a beautiful system in place in which gabbai roles are shared and rotated and the opportunities to lein and to lead the davening are rotated systematically in order to include as many people as possible (of course assuming that those who assume these roles are qualified and capable to fulfill these responsibilities admirably to the standards of the synagogue).

 And there are places where the same gabbai is gabbai for life (and will never give it up!), and where the same individual rushes to lead the davening or won’t give others the chance to lein at Shabbos mincha. Or where the Maftir Yonah is “owned” by a significant contributor, or certain specialty davenings are “always” led by the same person, or where the otherwise democratic nature of the synagogue is thrown away to satisfy the whims of a selfish individual. Former presidents keep all the keys they had in order not to relinquish an element of “power” held during those years of service. [These examples are culled from years of listening to tales from shul-goers I've met, from all around the country.]

 Moshe and Aharon teach us that people who are capable of leading and of taking on these roles should be able to be “sam’e’ach b’chelkam” (happy with their portion) and should find the strength to be “mevatrim” – people who give up the honors so others can have them. Because there is nothing more honorable or gracious than being able to say, “While I enjoy doing this, the right thing to do is to give someone else a chance. I don’t have to do everything.”

 May we find the strength (and create systems) to share responsibilities with others, and create wholesome shul environments in which jealousy and envy have no place because everyone is willing and ready to let another person have a chance to represent the congregation.

Seven Complete Weeks - A Lesson in Quality Time

Shavuot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 In Parshat Emor, the Torah tells us, “You shall then count for yourselves seven complete weeks after the day following the [Passover] holiday when you brought the omer as a wave offering.” (Vayikra 23:15)

 The term “seven complete weeks” is used by the Ta”z (R David HeLevi) and others as proof that Maariv (the evening prayer) on the eve of Shavuot is not to begin until after the stars have appeared. This delay is meant to assure that the Sefirat HaOmer period is over (the weeks are “completed”), so that the holiday of Shavuot can now commence.

 Is this a proper argument? Could the Torah’s terminology in this case be used to prevent the holiday from starting earlier? Shabbat often begins early. Sukkot begins early. Even Pesach may begin early, as the Shulchan Arukh states in 472:1: “One’s table should be set when it is still daytime, to be able to eat immediately when it gets dark… However, he should not say Kiddush until it is dark.” The Mishnah Berurah notes there, that one is not obligated to begin eating at nightfall, but if it helps the children stay up, the earlier one starts, post nightfall, the better. Obviously, if the meal can begin immediately at nightfall, Maariv will have been prayed a little earlier.

 While synagogues should certainly follow their customs, it is worthy to note that the Magen Avraham (R Avraham Gombiner) uses the same verse from Vayikra to teach us that just like at Pesach, “We do not say Kiddush until the stars have come out.” (Shulchan Arukh 494, Introduction)

 The debate is clear – either Maariv or Kiddush must wait until the stars have come out.

 But maybe the premise of the argument is based on an error. Or, to say it a little nicer, maybe the reading of the word “complete” is inaccurate.

 The Ktav V’hakabalah (Rabbi Yaakov Zvi Mecklenburg) notes that the word used in Vayikra 23:15 to describe the 7 weeks is “Temimot,” which more often means perfect or wholesome. The word the Torah does not use is “Shleimot,” which would more precisely mean “complete” or “full.” He defines “Temimot” as a qualitative form of completion, while “Shleimot” would be the proper term to be utilized for a quantitative assessment of completion. In other words, the way the Torah depicts the completeness of the 7 weeks, using the word “Temimot,” would more accurately be defined as an instruction to make the 7 weeks qualitatively whole.

 Quoting a Midrash (Vayikra Rabba Emor 28), the Ktav V’hakabalah suggests that what makes the 7 weeks perfect or wholesome has nothing to do with a timeclock that says the 7 weeks are full or complete only when the stars have come out at the end of the 49th day. The “Temimot” weeks are achieved when the Children of Israel use the time of Sefirat Ha’Omer to fulfill God’s will.

 While I personally think it is OK to rely on the Magen Avraham to have Maariv a little earlier as long as Kiddush is after nightfall, it is understood that others will follow the Ta”z and Mishnah Berurah and wait for Maariv to start that late. Certainly this year, with Shavuot starting at the end of Shabbat, it is likely most people would wait anyway.

 But let us not lose sight of the the very important lesson the Ktav ve’Hakabalah is teaching us. Our Sefirat Ha’Omer period was meant to be a time of introspection, of qualitative preparation for the celebration of Matan Torah, of reliving the experience of being given the gift of the Torah.

 Are we worthy? Did we do our jobs? Did we make the 7 weeks “Temimot,” wholesome and perfect? Do we live our lives yearning and aiming for this kind of completion – a qualitative one?

 Or are we living our Jewish lives trying to be “Shleimot?” Do we merely tick off checks and fill in boxes in the proverbial achievement chart of our lives?

 Do we measure our Jewish achievements in quantity, or in quality?

 Let us let the qualitative interpretation of Temimus be a charge to all of us to make every day count on a much higher level than “another day gone.”

 Quantity is easily measured. But quality is the hallmark of a meaningful life.

The Blessing of God's Presence

Parshat Bechukotai 

 by Rabbi Avi Billet 

 The beginning of Parshat Bechukotai paints an image of the kind of blessing we hope to receive from God. There are three conditions for Israelites to fulfill before they can enjoy the blessing of God’s bounty: a. walk in God’s decrees, which means to labor in Torah, b. observe the commandments – to guard them in one’s heart, through remembering what we learn, and c. the actual fulfillment of mitzvos.

 The message is a very logical one. The Torah makes it clear here that when the Jewish people fulfill their end of the deal, life in the land will be incredibly blessed.

 The blessing we ask of from God is for rain, crops, and produce, in overabundance.

 We ask for peace, for no dangerous animals to threaten, and for the sword to not even pass through the land.

We pray that enemies will be easily chased away, and large numbers of them will be defeated by very small numbers of us.

We embrace the blessing of people being fertile and numerous in the land.

 We accept the blessing that the Mishkan will last in the land and not grow tired of us.

All of this culminates with the most amazing promise of, “I will make My presence felt among you. Thus I will be a God to you, and you will be a nation dedicated to Me.” (26:12)

 Some of the commentaries describe these last blessings as referring to the World to Come. Others say it is a reference to what will happen in the Land of Israel when all of the Jewish people are fulfilling their missive as Jews who observe and keep the Torah and try to do as many mitzvot as they can.

Ramban talks about God’s presence here as the introduction to the concept of the “Shechinah.” He explains that the complete presence of God will only be felt when the heavens and earth can be complete, in the way they are meant to be. He cautions that these blessings were never achieved in their entirety – not by the masses nor by an individual, because their merits never added up.

Ramban concludes his commentary on this verse with a Midrashic quote that was expanded upon by Rashi who describes the image of God “making His presence felt amongst you” as “God strolling with us in the Garden of Eden like one of us.”

Imagine such a vision. Imagine taking a stroll with God. What to say? What to do? Shoot the breeze? Ask the deepest philosophical questions? Or just bask in the glow of that moment and cherish it forever because what more do we really need?

This is the ultimate blessing.

 There are many ways for blessings to manifest themselves. They can be given from humans to humans. They can be given from God to humans. People can feel blessed – by God or by the good turns their lives take. 

We can also be blessed to acknowledge God at all times, to be the ones to give blessings to others (as well as receive from others) and we can aim to see the blessing that Avraham received fulfilled in us – when he was first told to branch out on his own and make his way to the land that God will show him that he should BE a blessing to all who encounter him.

What an amazing life we would be living if we could only merit to be a blessing to all we encounter. And who knows? Perhaps if we lived life in such a way, we could merit to not have to wait for the Garden of Eden experience for God to be so closely among us. Perhaps we can achieve the “completeness” Ramban referred to, and thereby merit all the blessings of Parshat Bechukotai.

The Desecration of the Tell-All Essay

Parshat Emor

by Rabbi Avi Billet

According to Rambam (Maimonides) in his Sefer Hamitzvot (book of Commandments), there are two mitzvot to be gleaned from the verse: “Do not desecrate My holy name. I must be sanctified among the Israelites. I am God [and] I am making you holy.” (Vayikra 22:32 )

 The first is a negative commandment not to do anything to give God or His Torah a bad name (Negative Commandments #63), and the second is the mitzvah of Kiddush Hashem, to enhance the reputation of God and His Torah (Positive Commandment #9).

 In his depiction of the positive commandment, Rambam brings examples from history that the ideal way to sanctify God’s name is to be willing and ready to die for the sake of His Name. Utilizing a lesson taught by the prophet Isaiah, Rambam writes, while referring to a period when enemies have dominance over the Jewish people and are murdering men, women and children that “[even] children should not fear death and should give up their lives, and publicize and strengthen their faith, and sanctify The Name before the masses.” I'll add that to get to such a level requires a very high level of education and connection to our faith that must be modeled for our children and lived by example day in and day out. Perhaps what we might call "living al Kiddush Hashem."

The commandment to avoid desecrating God’s name is what Rambam calls “the opposite of sanctifying God’s Name.” And it carries three possible forms of violation. First, that whoever is put into a position, under duress of an enemy nation, to violate any mitzvah in the Torah, or in times of peace to violate either the laws of murder, immorality and idolatry, must not succumb to the pressure to violate the law (this is the reverse of Positive Command #9).

 This kind of violation (meaning if one does the sin anyway), however, is the most lenient, as it involves coercion or force. The person is not sinning out of desire to sin, but out of desire to stay alive.

 The second kind of violation also does not come from desire to do the sin or the forbidden act. Rather it is an act of rebelliousness and the removal of the Heavenly yoke of responsibility. It’s not the sin itself which is the intent, but the motivation for the sin, such as perhaps to “spite God,” is a key factor.

 The third type of violation is on a personal level, when an individual who has a stellar reputation does even a single act which is viewed by the masses as an “Aveirah” (sin), as an act which is not worthy of being respected. Even if the act turns out to be permissible, God’s Name could still be disgraced through the deed in question. An example cited by the Talmud is of a rabbi who takes a nice piece of meat from the butcher, but does not pay for it right away (this would not apply in a credit-card society). Another example: Cutting a line might not be illegal or a Torah prohibition, but it could very well be a chillul Hashem.

 While we can all write essays about those that fall into the third category, it is the second category that is becoming more and more apparent in our “I have a blog world,” where every week (if not every day) another person comes out with an essay or a book on “why I left Orthodoxy.” Inevitably the person will write about certain things s/he loves about Orthodox Judaism, but how “I still can’t get over the contradictions.” The loudest ones are often ex-Hassidim who could not find another option under the tent of Orthodoxy (maybe they were always told that Modern Orthodoxy is not Jewish).

 Most humorously, a person will make a claim such as “I went through 12 years of day school education, so I know all I need to know.” Or “For a long time I enjoyed the davening in our shul because it’s spiritual. But now it’s empty to me.”

 With all respect to our yeshiva and day school system, products of it do not “know everything they need to know.” And davening in shul is not meant to be “spiritual because there is singing.”

 We can all name Torah giants who passed away in the last few years. Rabbis Yosef S. Elyashiv, Ovadia Yosef, and more recently Shmuel Wozner and Aharon Lichtenstein. These leaders knew all there is to know, and they never stopped learning.

 Prayer is not supposed to be spiritual because there is singing. It is the individual’s responsibility to tap into the words one is saying, have them enter the heart, and impact one’s soul.

 More importantly, as Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein was famous for saying, it is OK to live with questions. We don’t have all the answers, and maybe we never will have all the answers. But just because a couple of things bother someone does not mean it is OK to air your personal dirty laundry on the Huffington Post.

 “My story must be heard!” Actually, it need not be heard. Your story and your personal “crisis of faith” (which is not really a crisis, but is just your own baggage) is only a chillul Hashem, a desecration of God’s name.

 Let us all become more knowledgable and more in touch with our faith so we can always be a source of Kiddush Hashem, of sanctifying God’s Holy Name. And then, we will happily read your tale of triumph over adversity in the Huffington Post.

Israel in Nepal: Understanding What "I Am God" Means

Parshat Acharei Mot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 Vayikra 18 introduces the Torah’s list of forbidden relationships with the instruction to Moshe to tell the Israelites:

“I am God. Do not follow the ways of Egypt where you lived, and as to the deeds of the land of Canaan to where I am bringing you, do not do [as well]. Do not follow their customs. Follow My laws, and be careful to keep My decrees, for I am God. Keep My decrees and laws, since it is only by keeping them that a person can [truly] live. I am God.” 

 There are many interpretations as to what the “ways of Egypt” and the “ways of Canaan” were, and what moral lesson the Israelites were supposed to take from these instructions. The implication of what it means to “truly live” is perhaps a reference to how the Torah’s guidance is supposed to inform our existence and inject depth and meaning into our lives.

 Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch distinguishes between the references to Egypt and Canaan and the general “do not follow their customs,” as he defines the former as “patterns of social behavior” and the generalization of “their customs” to be instructive regarding “private conduct in the lives of individuals and families.”

 To cite one example in his lengthy exposition, he writes that “only a family life of moral purity can produce a people that will champion justice and righteousness; and only a people that practices loving kindness and justice can produce people who are morally pure.”

 There is no question that he was preaching to the choir. But I don’t believe the Jewish people who live by the Torah’s precepts can claim moral superiority to non-Jews who follow the Noahide laws. The same morality laws apply to all of humanity. People who follow the rules are to be admired; those who do not follow basic moral standards of society are not good role models. 

Some of the commentaries point out that the people who were living in the land merited to have Hevron settled for as long as it was (based on Bamidbar 13:22) because they were so respectful to Abraham and the forefathers in allowing their burial in the Land that was not-yet-theirs. Surely not only the people of Israel are capable of contributing positively to the world.

 There is no question that the moral standards of ancient Egypt and ancient Canaan were very low. The simple interpretation of the verse is to not learn from their corrupt ways. But what about their good ways? Was there no contribution to the world or society that the Jewish people could learn from, and apply to their experience?

 Tosafos (Avodah Zarah 11a) forbids two kinds of non-Jewish influence: 1. Customs and practices connected with non-Jewish, idolatrous, or immoral purposes and beliefs. 2. Non-Jewish customs and practices for which there is no known reasonable and permissible basis.

 Building, giving charity, providing aid, practicing medicine, living a life of loving kindness – if we copy the ways of non-Jews in any of these disciplines, we are blessed for it. And if we live out our creed to be a light unto the nations in these arenas, modeling how to be the best at each of these, how incredible is our lot. 

Watching the lead that Israel is taking in the wake of the devastating earthquake in Nepal, it is shameful that there might be Jews in the world who do not recognize the moral clarity that the State of Israel demonstrates - especially when citizens of the world are suffering and in need of the humanitarian help Israel is at the forefront of providing.

 We saw similar reactions in the wake of the tsunami of 2004, the earthquake in Haiti in 2010, and even near Syria and Gaza alongside military conflicts in the last year alone. Israel sets up field hospitals. At its own expense. And Jews around the world collect money and send humanitarian aid. This is the opposite of the ways of Ancient Egypt and Ancient Canaan, who at most cared only about their own people, and certainly did not celebrate diversity or other cultures.

 I saw a disturbing post on Facebook by a rabbi who is involved in outreach, who often says outlandish things when he makes claims of understanding cause and effect in this world, particularly as to why tragic events unfold. He has claimed to know the reasons for why people suffer horrible illness, why the tragic fire in Brooklyn took 7 lives, why the Holocaust happened, etc. claiming some kind of divine inspiration. He posted before and after photos of a now destroyed Temple in Nepal, saying “All the idols worshiping places in nepal are now destroyed. [sic]” A few hours later he removed it from his Facebook page. [I took a screenshot of it]

 This is not who we are. Maimonides (Laws of Idolatry 7:1) indicates that places of worship outside of Israel are not our business.

 And even in Israel, absent the arrival of the Messiah, places of worship are respected.

 Perhaps if we reread the verses in our parsha, we can understand why this rabbi is wrong, and why the example of the State of Israel is spot-on.

 “I am God. Do not follow the ways of Egypt where you lived,” who did not respect your right to live as Jews, and who did not honor your right to worship your God as you see fit. “And as to the deeds of the land of Canaan to where I am bringing you, do not do [as well].” After all, they do not respect your Divine-given rights to this Land, and will attack you despite your peace efforts.

 “Do not follow their customs.” They can’t see past the bridge of their nose in recognizing that it’s a big world filled with God’s children, and that whatever can be done to advance the brotherhood of humanity is good.

 “Follow My laws, and be careful to keep My decrees, for I am God. Keep My decrees and laws, since it is only by keeping them that a person can [truly] live. I am God.” True Divine Inspiration comes from living a moral existence that embraces that all of humanity are created in the image of God. Some people practice religion in ways that are foreign to us, and their religious practices are not to influence us in any way. 

However, if we can make a Kiddush Hashem, sanctifying God’s name through showing our care for God’s children because we follow the teachings of the One who declared “I am God,” then we are fulfilling our creed that exhorts us to “truly live” – to demonstrate what it means to live a life of meaning, of giving, and of embracing the real world.

Partners in Creation (and Infertility)

For those who struggle with infertility, the battle is one which is often waged in private, with very little support from family or friends, unless a choice is made to share the information. I don't think it is anyone's place to impose their advice or opinions (or to say such insensitive things like "So when are you guys going to have a baby?"), unless said advice or opinions are sought by those who struggle. While I certainly don't have answers beyond doing research, preparing the body with the proper nutrition and vitamins, and seeking out the best medical help possible, here is a religious approach that suggests there is more to what meets the eye than medical charts. 

Parshat Tazria

by Rabbi Avi Billet

 Last week I quoted the Midrash Aggadah on “Yom HaShmini” who raised the possibility that one of the interpretations of Kohelet 11:2 which speaks of seven becoming eight, is that of Rabbi Yehuda bar Simone who said that "Seven" refers to the days of the Niddah period. If the laws of Niddah are followed (7), the Midrash suggests in the name of God, a child will be born who will be circumcised on the 8th day.

 Sounds like a pretty good guarantee.

 In another passage in the Midrash Aggadah on our parsha, we are reminded of how there are three partners in the creation of a human being: the father, the mother and God. This notion comes from the Talmud (Kiddushin 30b, Niddah 31a), and many homiletical teachings emerge from it.

 But perhaps the most profound thought, certainly one that crosses the mind of God-fearing parents when their children are born, is how clearly one can understand that God is in this world when one observes a newborn.

 Of course the initial passage above is a nice thought. But there are plenty of people who observe these laws meticulously and still struggle with infertility (as well as those who don't follow them, who have no problems). If only such a guarantee came with a warranty.

 Alas, as everyone knows, it’s not always so simple.

 In his Toldot Yitzchak, Rabbi Yitzchak Caro utilized a Talmudic teaching to explain how an expectant parent must pray for the fertilization to take root in the first three days, from day 3 to day 40 pray for a male child, from day 40 to the end of the first trimester pray that it shouldn’t be a miscarriage, from 3 months to 6 months pray that it should not be a stillborn, from 6 months pray that it should be born in peace.

 If so, he concludes, it seems that the health of the child and success of the pregnancy is dependent on prayer much more than on nature.

 With regard to the praying for a “male” child – well, this passage is on the segment that says “When a woman conceives and gives birth to a male.” (For those who like “The Godfather,” think of the blessing Luca Brasi gave Don Corleone at the Godfather’s daughter’s wedding.) [Of course there are people who "want" to have a boy. There are also people who "want" to have a girl. Most people are happy to have a child and gender does not matter.]

 Otherwise, the passage speaks for itself about prayer’s role in all of this.

 When I was in his class, Rabbi Moshe Tendler would often tell us that there are so many possible genetic mutations that could take place in the development of a fetus, it is a miracle that anyone is born without some kind of problem. Baruch Hashem.

In our world of science and rationalism, we tend to aim to find explanations for why things go right, and even moreso for when things go wrong.

 But maybe, just maybe, we don’t have all the answers because some causes and cases go beyond the realm of the natural world. An unhealthy woman gives birth to a completely healthy and normal baby. A healthy woman can’t carry a baby to term. What’s wrong with this picture?

 I don’t have the answers. But the Toldot Yitzchak did offer a suggestion, which I believe is only highlighted due to Rabbi Tendler’s insight about genetics. There is a need for prayer that goes far beyond our understanding, and enters the realm of the cosmos in terms of where it sits, lies and waits, and then returns to influence the world.

 Are following the laws of Niddah and committing to prayer guarantees that a child will be born, and in good health? Of course not. But as the old Jewish joke goes: a performer in a live show has a heart attack and dies on stage. As the stage manager comes out to give mouth-to-mouth, a woman in the audience yells out “Give him an enema! Give him an enema!” She is told, “This man is dead. An enema won’t help.” “Well, it wouldn’t hurt!”

While the punchline of the joke, "It can't hurt" is more than likely true with respect to prayer and Niddah observance, the other side of it, "That maybe it can really help" is certainly not worth dropping at the wayside.

 Let those who are struggling to have that child find fulfillment in a more dedicated commitment to the laws of Niddah and to prayer. Especially praying for someone else who has similar needs . Who knows? Maybe sooner than later, prayers will be answered.

 Amen. May it only be so for all of us.

When Seven Turns Into Eight

For more on the "Eighth Day" - see here

Parshat Shmini

by Rabbi Avi Billet


This week and next week, the Torah portion begins with the phrase “Yom HaShmini” referring to an eighth day. In our parsha, the reference is to the eighth day of the “Miluim” – the time when the Tabernacle was dedicated in the wilderness.

Next week we will be reading of the process a woman goes through after giving birth, and how on the eighth day after a boy is born, he is to be circumcised. 

Is there a connection between these “eighth day”s?

The Midrash Aggadah makes the connection, quoting a verse in Kohelet (11:2), “Give a portion to seven and even to eight, for you do not know what evil will be on the earth” as a springboard to saying there are a number of things that are seven, which lead to number eight.

Moshe had a 7-day conversation with God at the burning bush before he was ready for his eighth day – to move on to be the deliverer from bondage. Rabbi Elazar (or Eliezer) said 7 refers to the days of a week, and 8 refers to Bris Milah. Rain fell in the times of Elijah the Prophet (after several years of drought), in the merit of these two mitzvot: Shabbos and Bris Milah.

Rabbi Yehoshua said 7 refers to the (Biblical) days of Pesach, while 8 refers to the eight days of Sukkot (which include Shmini Atzeret).

Rabbi Simone said 7 refers to the 7th day of the korbanot (offerings) of the N’siim (princes) in Bamidbar 7, and 8 refers to the 8th day of the same korbanot – the offerings brought by the princes of Ephraim and Menashe.

Rabbi Yehuda said 7 refers to niddah (proper observance of the laws of family purity), which can lead to the birth of a boy who is circumcised on his eighth day of life. 

Rabbi Azarya (also attributed to Rabbi Eliezer) said the verse refers to the 7 days of Miluim (dedication of the Tabernacle), and 8 refers to the Eighth day of our parsha.

 The Midrash Rabba adds to this list:

Rabbi Azarya said Moshe supervised over the Bris Milah of the 7th generation (Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov, Levi, Kehat, Amram, Moshe), while Yehoshua supervised the Bris Milah of the 8th generation as they entered the land of Canaan.

 Rabbi Levi said there are seven days of sukkot, and eight is Shmini Atzeret.

Rabbenu Bachaye notes the Midrash Mishlei which pointed to a number of Mitzvot in the Torah themed around the number 7: Shabbos, Shmittah (7 years), and Yovel (7 cycles of Shmittah). There are 7 days of Pesach, 7 days of Sukkos. The 4 Species actually have 7 items (1 lulav, 1 esrog, 2 aravos, 3 hadasim), there are 7 days of mourning, and 7 days of rejoicing (after a wedding) – all of this alludes to the 7 days of Creation. The reason Aharon was not consecrated as the High Priest during the 7 days of Miluim is because his role is designated to serve the One and Only God. The eighth day, which is seven plus One, serves as a “one up” on the seven, as it focuses on looking back at the 7 through the prism of serving the One.

The Mishkan highlights the number 8: the number of the High Priest’s garments, the number of spices in the anointing oil (4) and k’tores (4) - combined, the number of poles (2 each for ark, table, small and large mizbeachs), an animal can’t be brought as an offering until it is eight days old, the number of instruments/styles of music the Levites used when they sang songs (based on Tehillim 90, 53, 9, 5, 45, 8, 6).

Kli Yakar illustrates how all Moshe’s glorification of God came under the rubric of the word “Az” (alef zayin) (See Shmot 5:23, 15:1). The alef (1) rides on the zayin (7), to indicate God’s kingship over the seven planets (interestingly, he mentions seven planets in the 1600s, when planet #7 – Uranus was discovered in 1781 by Sir William Herschel, and Neptune wasn’t discovered until 1846!), and over the world created in 7 days. Eight, therefore, is a reference to Godlike qualities that go beyond the base of creation and of this world. This explains why an animal is not fit to be a sacrificial offering until it is at least eight days old.

The key to understanding the significance of 7 and 8, however, rests in the verse in Kohelet. In his explanation of the teaching that 7 refers to the days of the week and 8 refers to Bris Milah, the Torah Temimah suggests that our goal during the 7 days is to be preparing for what’s coming. Every day we prepare for Shabbos. After the birth of a boy, we are preparing for his bris celebration.

Shabbos and Milah share a commonality – the merits of both saved the Jewish people in the time of Elijah the Prophet. And the need for preparation in general serves as a reminder that a person should never put off preparing for the future when the opportunity to prepare presents itself. Who knows? Maybe such a chance to prepare will never be available again. This is the meaning of the second half of the verse in Kohelet. We have no crystal ball. We do not know what the future will bring.

Indeed, all of the holidays (including Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, which are included in the Kohelet verse in the word “v’gam” – and also), are considered to be days of judgment. Perhaps the verse is teaching us, the Torah Temimah concludes, that those who observe the laws of the holidays, and of Shabbos and Bris Milah, are protected from evil, and certainly from any judgment for gehinnom.

In the end, the Eighth Day of our parsha serves as a model for what the best kind of connection to God is, and how to serve Him. We are to do our best to prepare for the eighth day, and we are to highlight the eighth day as the day that demonstrates His power on earth, and what it means to tap into the holiness that goes above and beyond the base of the seven days of Creation.