Emor | The Holiday Cycle

Introduction

 

Following a pattern already familiar to us, Parashat Emor begins with a series of injunctions directed towards the Cohanim.  The Torah goes on to describe a number of laws pertaining to sacrifice, and then directs its attention to the Holiday Cycle.  The holidays are delineated one at a time, but in keeping with the primary thrust of Sefer Vayikra, the particular sacrifices associated with each of them are respectively spelled out.  In this week's lesson, we shall explore this holiday cycle in greater depth, focussing especially on two of the three so-called 'Pilgrim Festivals' of Pesach, Shavuot, and Succot, as they are described in this week's Parasha.  Before doing so, however, we must first turn our attention to the introductory verses of the passage, for they shed light on an important but often misunderstood ritual feature of these days.

 

Curiously, the section that discusses the holidays begins with mention of the Shabbat:  "God spoke to Moshe saying: Speak to Bnei Yisrael and say to them: the designated times of God, that you shall observe as sacred convocations, are the following.  For six days you shall do work, but on the seventh day it shall be a Sabbath of Sabbaths, a holy convocation.  You may not do all manner of work ('kol melakha') on it, for it is a Sabbath unto God in all of your habitations"  (Vayikra 23:1-3).  By commencing the section of the holidays with a reference to the Shabbat, the Torah emphasizes the primacy of the latter, for the framework of observances associated with all of the other holidays draws its inspiration directly from the model of the Shabbat.  Nevertheless, although in terms of formal external practices, the holidays are practically indistinguishable from the Shabbat, there is one critical distinction. 

 

 

Shabbat and the Other Holidays

 

Reading the text carefully, we notice that with respect to the Shabbat, the Torah employs a phrase that is not used concerning any other holiday – "you may not do 'kol melakha,' any manner of work."  In almost all of the other holiday references in our Parasha, the Torah prohibits "kol melekhet avoda" but not "kol melakha."  Thus, concerning Pesach, "on the first day shall be a holy convocation for you, 'kol melekhet avoda' you shall not do" (23:7).  With respect to Shavuot, "you shall declare on that very day a holy convocation, 'kol melekhet avoda' you shall not do..." (23:21).  Concerning Rosh HaShana, "you shall not do 'kol melekhet avoda...'" (23:25).  Finally, concerning the first day of Succot as well as the special eighth day convocation associated with that festival, the Torah again prohibits 'kol melekhet avoda' (23:35-36).  While a precise definition of "melekhet avoda" is not provided in the text, clearly it is some form of labor involving effort, for as we have seen in other contexts, 'avoda' is often employed by the Torah to signify 'toil or exertion.'  Thus, although on Shabbat the Torah rules out all manner of melakha, on the holidays only particular types of melakha, namely those involving "effort" are curtailed.  Or, to phrase the matter differently, it follows that on the holidays, certain forms of 'melakha' must therefore be permitted.  But which ones?

 

Although our section is silent on the matter, an earlier text from the Book of Shemot provides the answer.  As the last of the Plagues is about to strike, God bids Moshe to tell the people to observe the Passover.  This first and most commemorative of the holidays is to be celebrated after the liberation from Egypt "for all generations as an everlasting decree" (Shemot 12:14).  "On the first and seventh days shall be holy convocations, all manner of work ('kol melakha') is not to be done on them, ONLY EXCEPTING that which is necessary so that people may eat, which may be done by you" (Shemot 12:16).  Thus, the Torah prohibits the execution of work on the holiday, save that which is needed for the preparation of food.

 

Returning to our text, the subtlety of the passage is now clear.  On Shabbat, no melakha may be done, including that necessary for food preparation.  Provisions for Shabbat must therefore be carried out or commenced ahead of time, for no exemption at all is indicated by the text.  On the other holidays, however, although all other forms of melakha are forbidden, food preparation may be done, for as the Ramban (13^th century, Spain) points out "work executed for the sake of food preparation is beneficial, rather than onerous" (see lengthy commentary to Vayikra 23:7).  "Melekhet avoda" or "toilsome labor" is therefore prohibited on the holidays, but not "okhel nefesh," food for consumption.

 

The Ramban's explanation also addresses the only holiday in our passage that avoids use of this critical phrase. "God spoke to Moshe saying: 'on the tenth day of the seventh month a Day of Atonement, a holy convocation, shall be observed by you on which you shall afflict your souls by fasting…all manner of work, "kol melakha" shall not be done on this very day..." (Vayikra 23:26-28).  Why does the Torah say that on Yom Kippur "kol melakha" shall be curtailed, employing language associated with the Shabbat rather than employing the phraseology associated with the other holidays?  The reason should now be obvious, for since this day is one of fasting on which no food is to be consumed, the warrant of food preparation does not exist.  Consequently, "kol melakha" is not to be done, after the manner of Shabbat.

 

 

Pesach and Succot – Festivals of the Seasons and Commemorations of Historical Events

 

Now turning our attention to the holidays, we notice that the Torah commences the discussion with the Passover.  This is eminently suitable, for the Pesach is the very first national festival of our people. 

"These are the set times of God, holy convocations that you shall declare in their proper times.  On the fourteenth day of the first month at eventide shall be Passover unto God.  On the fifteenth day of this month a holiday of Matzot shall be observed unto God, and for seven days you shall consume matzot..." (23:4-6). 

 

Thus, the justifications for the observance of the holiday are the deeply ingrained historical events surrounding the Exodus.  The Passover sacrifice that inaugurated the day of Redemption and the unleavened bread that so eloquently captured the spirit of servitude and then sudden liberation, are here presented as the central elements of the holiday.  No mention is made of the season of the Exodus, although on the morrow of that tumultuous night, Moshe had reminded the people that "today you go forth, in the month of the Spring" (Shemot 13:5).

 

In a similar vein, the Torah mandates the celebration of a seven day festival in the 'seventh month':

 

"...on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, the Festival of Succot (literally 'booths') is to be celebrated for seven days unto God... when you gather in the produce of the land... for seven days you shall dwell in booths…in order that your descendents will know that in succot I caused the people of Israel to dwell, when I took them out of the land of Egypt.  I am God your Lord" (Vayikra 23:33-44).

 

Here again, the Torah indicates a binary foundation for the holiday, for it is associated with the agricultural ingathering, as well as with the events of the journey forth from the land of Egypt to traverse the wilderness.

 

Considering the matter from a more general perspective, we notice that Pesach and Succot are celebrated at opposite poles of the year.  Pesach ushers in the season of Spring, and the earnest onset of the growing season.  Succot falls exactly six months later and marks the commencement of Fall, as the farmer gathers in the last of his crops from the field, leaves his temporary booth, and begins to look forward to the winter rains.  The Torah recognizes and emphasizes these critical agricultural aspects of these festivals, for elsewhere in Scripture they are explicitly connected to their seasonal anchors.  Thus, with respect to Pesach, the text states:

 

"observe the Festival of Matzot.  For seven days you shall eat matzot as I have commanded you, in the time of the month of Spring, for at that time you left Egypt..." (Shemot 22:15). 

 

Concerning Succot, the Torah designates it as "the Festival of the Ingathering at the end of the year, when you gather in your produce from the field" (Shemot 22:16).

 

At the same time, the Torah clearly points out that these holidays have a critical historical character as well, for Pesach celebrates the Redemption from Egypt, while Succot recalls the journey through the wilderness in the aftermath of that Exodus.  What is the significance of this duality, which is underscored in almost every mention of these holidays in the Torah?  Why do they commemorate agricultural, as well as historical episodes?

 

 

The Solar Year and the Phases of the Moon

 

Examining the issue from a further angle, we notice that the dual aspect of these festivals is suggested by the twofold system that is at work for designating their calendar date.  On the one hand, these holidays are tethered to the Spring and to the Fall, two agricultural seasons that are a function of the earth's revolution around the sun.  As the earth proceeds around the sun, with its axis of rotation lying at a slight tilt to the plane of its orbit, the length of the day increases to usher in the season of Spring and decreases to announce the onset of Fall.  In other words, the seasons are completely dependent upon the sun. 

 

At the same time, the actual dates of the holidays of Pesach and Succot are spelled out in the Torah as "the fifteenth day of the first month" and the "fifteenth day of the seventh month" respectively.  These time designations are functions not of the sun but of the moon, for the Torah introduces a lunar calendar on the eve of the departure from Egypt: "This month ('HaChodesh') shall be for you the first of months..." (Shemot 12:2).  As R. Avraham Ibn Ezra (12^th century, Spain) points out, the Torah's consistent use of the term 'chodesh' to describe 'month' points to a lunar count. The word, he explains, comes from the root 'ChaDaSh' signifying 'new,' and therefore signifies 'renewal,' "for renewal pertains to the light of the moon, for although it has no light of its own, its appearance waxes and wanes due to the light of the sun..." (beginning of commentary to Shemot 12:2).

 

 

The Directive to Synchronize

 

What is singularly striking, however, is that the Torah insists that both of these time systems be employed as the foundation of its calendar.  The holidays must fall during their appropriate agricultural seasons, but are formally reckoned according to the phases of the moon.  This duality has the potential to create difficulties, for the solar year (the period of a single complete rotation of the earth around the sun) is approximately 365 ¼ days long, while a period of twelve lunar months is approximately 354 days long.  This is because each lunar month describes a complete revolution of the moon around the earth, and constitutes about 29 ½ days.  It should be emphasized that both systems are actually completely independent, for the periods of the moon have absolutely nothing to do with the rotation of the earth around the sun.  The fact that we tend to speak of 'twelve months' in a year is arbitrary, and is based upon an early recognition that over the course of a solar year approximately twelve lunar renewals would be observed.  For the sake of comparison, note that the English word 'month' is itself derived also from the Old English word for 'moon.'

 

The method of synchronizing the seasons of the sun with the months of the moon is the basis of the Jewish calendar, and explains the periodic introduction of a 'thirteenth month' to harmonize the discrepancy.  We may contrast this system with the completely solar calendar employed in all countries historically associated with Christianity (the seasons always begin on the same calendar day of the year), or the exclusively lunar calendar used in all Moslem countries (so that Moslem festivals, over the course of time, migrate across the seasons of the year).

 

To sum up thus far, we have noticed that the Torah unerringly refers to Pesach as associated with the time of Spring, and Succot as the Festival of the Fall.  These designations are seasonally dependent and relate to the sun.  At the same time, the Torah is always careful to recall the historical basis of these festivals, and to set their formal dates as a function of lunar months that, strictly speaking, are completely independent of the agricultural seasons.  What is the significance of this duality?

 

 

The Duality of the Torah Festivals – 1) Nature

 

Early on in human development, mankind recognized that survival was a function of the seasons.  The gracious rays of the sun warmed the earth, the welcome rains revived it, and it in turn brought forth its bounty.  When cultivated conscientiously, its black soil could miraculously transform seeds into sustenance.  But there were other awesome and capricious forces at work, for an unexpected period of intense heat could burn up its beneficence, and an unforeseen storm could swiftly sweep it away.  Thus, early man, seeking to relieve himself of the existential tension of his predicament, thought it prudent to seek the favor of these natural forces, whom he primitively identified with different divinities.  The forces of nature were worshipped as gods, and these were perceived as at once terrifying in their power, but also munificent in their life-giving support.

 

The Torah forcefully parted ways with this conception of the world, by proclaiming in absolute terms that a Single God had fashioned the cosmos and continued to sustain it.  The Forces of Nature were not erratic and mercurial gods at odds with each other, but rather the manifestations of an underlying structure to a universe that had been called into being by a Willful Creator.  The seasons, paradigms for these manifold powers of nature, were themselves functions of the sun, the most majestic and mighty force of them all.  But even this sun and all of its host were, the Torah exclaimed, not gods in their own right, but only the effortless work of an Absolute Being, and consequently subject to His rule.  How difficult it is for us to imagine the spiritual state of humanity three or four thousand years ago!  We take for granted that we live in a world that has already progressed to a theological conception of the universe not that far from the opening verses of Bereishit.  At that time and for many, many centuries afterwards, however, the Torah's towering message must have seemed astonishing and surreal!

 

Thus, the holidays of Spring and Fall, celebrated by humanity from time immemorial as pivotal events in the life of the gods, were henceforth to be observed as expressions of the Single Creator's omnipotence.  Pesach and Succot proclaimed God's complete mastery over Nature, His indispensable involvement in the processes of Cultivation and Harvest, Growth and Decay, Life and Death.  The Torah-enjoined festivals broadcast for the first time the revolutionary message that the contradictory forces of the cosmos, though they might seem awesome and overwhelming, were themselves entirely under the dominion of a singular non-corporeal God who transcended the inherent limitations of matter that held the lesser 'divinities' in sway.

 

 

The Duality of the Torah Festivals – 2) History

 

But that was not enough, for a God of Nature, mighty as He might be, was not necessarily a God involved, a God immediate, a God who cared.  The transcendence of an Absolute Deity could easily be mistaken for remoteness, His otherworldliness for abstraction.  The forces of creation might be breathtaking in their grandeur and awesome in their intensity, but they were also, by the very same token, impersonal in their expanse.  The seasons progress at their own pace, seemingly indifferent to any human cares and apparently unheeding of our concerns.

 

"I am God your Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt!" thundered the Deity at Sinai, articulating for the first time in the history of the world, the notion of a God that was aware, attentive, near at hand, and involved.  This was a God who was aware of oppression, attentive to the cries of those in servitude, near to their pain, and intimately involved in their liberation.  The Exodus was not in the main about a God who could overpower, but about a God who could redeem.  Human destiny was no longer to be regarded as being subject to the impersonal fates, but was rather proclaimed to be a function of human conduct and human choices.  The gods could be bought off with incantations and bribed with offerings, but the God of Israel could only be supplicated with deeds of kindness and acts of compassion.  The gods of Egypt, among whom the Pharaoh occupied an honored position, could easily countenance the injustice of a groaning humanity enslaved in cruel bondage, for they were not particularly concerned with human destiny, and, themselves subject to an irresistible Fate, were anywise powerless to affect it.

 

With the same suddenness as the Act of Creation, this new understanding burst forth on the world, carried forward by a freed people of Israel still too spiritually inchoate to fully internalize its significance.  In order to impress it upon them, they were given new observances to commemorate the great historical events that surrounded their deliverance, to recall God's intimate involvement and ongoing concern that had brought them forth from Egypt and sustained them during the course of their wanderings.  There was thus an intrinsic aspect to these events that did not relate to the seasons of the year at all, to the events of nature or the cycles of agriculture, but only to the unique relationship between God and man.  This was a facet particular to humanity and did not seek to address the larger framework of a cosmos that was by definition transcendent and impersonal.  It was an aspect that was best expressed by coupling it to the phases of the moon, for the lunar calendar (in contrast to its solar counterpart) was about man's history and life.

 

 

The Sun and the Moon – Two Types of Marking  Time

 

If the seasons of the sun are about God's mastery of nature, the phases of the moon are about man's imprint on time.  The solar seasons have their own rhythms that unfold independent of our existence, but the lunar calendar is artificial and contrived.  It is an expression of how WE mark time as human beings and gauge the progress of our lives, for according to astronomical reality there is no such thing as a 'lunar year.'  We create the artifice of a lunar year and we assign it validity, for its conventions are products of our ingenuity.  By remembering the historical and momentous events of our national birth according to a lunar reckoning, we celebrate man's role in the world, and especially his privileged status as the most precious subject of God's concern.  The solar calendar is about God's involvement with the world, but the lunar calendar is about God's involvement with man.  By dating the holidays of the Exodus and the Wilderness according to the lunar cycle, the Torah is insisting that we remain cognizant of God's other aspect of connectedness, His immediacy and intimacy, His ongoing involvement in the ebb and tide of our unfolding human lives.  There is a God of Creation, but there is also a God of History; the revolution that the Torah unleashed was the idea that these two fundamental aspects are in truth a perfect Oneness that is inseparable.

 

Thus, Pesach is the Holiday of the Spring, but also the season of our redemption from Egypt.  Succot celebrates harvest, but also recalls our traversing of the hostile wilderness.  The seasons of the sun and the phases of the moon must be synchronized, for they speak of a unified idea that alone has the power to transform us.  Most of us are probably comfortable with the notion of a Creator, even perhaps an all-powerful one, but we would prefer to keep Him at arm's length.  God may have created the cosmos, but (we surmise with relief) He has fortunately receded into the shadows of time, transcendent, absolute but irrelevant.  Conceptually, not much separates the notion of no God from the notion of an unaware, uncaring and removed God, for the impact on our lives is practically negligible in either case.  Only the idea of an omnipotent AND concerned God, who is capable but who also demands, who is strong enough to intervene but who also takes account, who nurtures but at the same time obligates us to grow, can make a difference to our lives.  This then is the true significance of Pesach and Succot, the festivals not only of the fruits of the soil but of the fruits of the soul as well.

 

Shabbat Shalom