Tag Archives: Idolatry

Should You Wear a Red String on Your Wrist?

Vestments of the kohen and kohen gadol

This week’s parasha, Tetzave, continues to outline the items necessary for the Mishkan, or Tabernacle, starting with the Menorah and going into a detailed description of the priestly vestments. One of the materials necessary for the holy garments is tola’at shani, commonly translated as “crimson wool”. This was a deep red fabric apparently derived from some kind of insect or worm (which is what the Hebrew “tola’at” means). The Torah speaks of this material in multiple places and in multiple contexts. Today, wearing a “tola’at shani”-like red string on the wrist has become very popular among those calling themselves “Kabbalists” and even by secular Jews and non-Jews. What is the significance of the red fibre, and is there any real spiritual meaning to the red string bracelet?

The First Red String

The earliest mention of a red string is in Genesis 38:27-30, where Tamar gives birth to her twin sons Peretz and Zerach:

And it came to pass in the time of her labour that, behold, twins were in her womb. And in her labour, one hand emerged, and the midwife took a red string [shani] and tied it to his hand saying, “This one came out first.” And he drew back his hand, and behold, his brother came out, and she said: “With what strength have you breached [paratz] yourself?” so his name was called Peretz. And afterward came out his brother that had the red string upon his hand, and his name was called Zerach.

Here, the red string is simply used to designate the firstborn. It didn’t work out as planned, for the other twin ended up coming first. The strong Peretz would go on to be the forefather of King David, and therefore Mashiach, who is sometimes called Ben Partzi. Clearly, wearing the red string wasn’t much of an effective charm for Zerach.

Temple Rituals

In addition to being used in the garments of the priests and various Temple vessels, tola’at shani was employed in a number of sacrificial rituals. In Leviticus 14 we read how someone who had healed from tzara’at, loosely translated as “leprosy”, would bring an offering of two birds which were dipped in a mixture containing the red dye. From this we see that tola’at shani (or shni tola’at, as it appears here) is not necessarily the string itself, but simply the red dye extracted from the insect. Similarly, the red dye was used in the preparation of the parah adumah, “Red Cow”, mixture (Numbers 19) which was used to purify the nation from the impurity of death.

The Talmud (Yoma 67a) describes how a red string was tied to the scapegoat on Yom Kippur. Recall that on Yom Kippur two goats were selected, one being slaughtered and the other being sent off into the wilderness, “to Azazel”. This “scapegoat” had a red string attached to it, and if the string turned white the people would know that their sins had been forgiven, as Isaiah 1:18 states: “…though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” Here, then, the red string represents the sin of the people, bound to the scapegoat going to Azazel. If it turned white, it was a good sign, whereas if the string remained red it meant God was unhappy with the nation. Indeed, the Talmud (Yoma 39b) states that in the last forty years before the Second Temple was destroyed, the red string never once turned white.

Red in Kabbalah

In mystical texts, red is typically the colour of Gevurah or Din, severity and judgement. It was therefore generally discouraged to wear red. The Kabbalists often wore garments of all white, and this is still the custom during the High Holidays, a time of particularly great judgement. It was only centuries later that the Chassidic rebbe known as Minchat Eliezer (Rabbi Chaim Elazar Spira of Munkacz, 1868-1937) wrote how having a red cloth may serve to ward off judgement and severity. Another Chassidic rebbe, the Be’er Moshe (Rabbi Moshe Stern of Debreczin, 1890-1971) wrote that he remembered seeing people wear red strings as a child, but did not know why. Still, this does not appear to have been a very popular practice then, nor is it much of a custom among Chassidim now.

1880 Illustration of Rachel’s Tomb

Rather, the red string today has been popularized by The Kabbalah Centre and similar “neo-Kabbalah” movements that cater as much to non-Jews as to secular Jews. The Kabbalah Centre explains that the bracelets are made by taking a long red thread and winding it around Rachel’s Tomb seven times. The thread is then cut into wrist-size lengths, and if worn on the “left wrist, we can receive a vital connection to the protective energies surrounding the tomb of Rachel.” It is not clear where The Kabbalah Centre took this practice from. They claim that the red string wards off the evil eye. While they cite certain passages from the Zohar regarding the evil eye, there doesn’t seem to be any connection to a red string specifically.

The Zohar (II, 139a) does state in one place that the blue tekhelet represents God’s Throne, as is well-known, which means judgement, whereas the red shani is what emerges from the Throne and overpowers the judgement, thus bringing protection upon Israel. The Zohar relates shani to Michael, the guardian angel of Israel, and uses the metaphor of a worm eating through everything to explain the tola’at shani as eating up negative judgement. This is why the famous song Eshet Chayil (Proverbs 31) states that a “woman of valour” has her whole house dressed in shanim (v. 21). She guards her household in this way. (It should be noted that in this passage the Zohar states it is gold which represents Gevurah, and silver represents Chessed. White and red, meanwhile, appear to be aspects within the sefirah of Yesod.)

So, perhaps there is something to wearing a red string.

Bringing Back Shani

The Zohar does not speak of any red string at all, and instead explains the mystical power of the red dye called shani. It is the dye itself that has power, as we see from the Temple rituals noted above. It is well-known that the blue tekhelet dye comes from a certain mollusc or sea snail called chilazon. From where does shani come?

A female and male cochineal bug.

Professor Zohar Amar of Bar Ilan University researched the subject in depth and concluded that tola’at shani is similar to the cochineal insect, famous for producing the red dye carmine (E120) which is extensively used in the food industry. After a round-the-world search, it turned out that a cochineal-like insect is found in Israel as well, and grows on oak trees.

While the cochineal insect is native to South America (where most of the carmine is still produced), its Mediterranean cousin is the oak-dwelling kermes insect. Indeed, kermes was used across the Mediterranean world for millennia, being particularly prized in Greek, Roman, and medieval society. It is best known for its ability to dye wool extremely well. Jerusalem’s Temple Institute was convinced of the professor’s findings, and has begun harvesting the bugs and their red dye in order to produce authentic priestly vestments, as outlined in the Torah.

In light of this, a genuine red string “kabbalah” bracelet—with the protective powers mentioned in the Zohar—would undoubtedly have to be made of wool dyed with kermes red. And according to the Zohar, it probably shouldn’t be worn on the left wrist at all, but instead on the right leg, the body part which the Zohar (II, 148a) states that shani corresponds to.

Imitating Pagans

Judaism is very sensitive about not imitating the ways of the pagans, or darkei Emori. One example of this, as we wrote in the past, is kapparot, which the Ramban (among others) called an idolatrous practice. The Tosefta (Shabbat, ch. 7) has a list of practices that are considered darkei Emori, and one of them is “tying a red string on one’s finger”. So, already two millennia ago it seems there were Jews tying red strings on their body, and the Tosefta (which is essentially equivalent to the Mishnah) forbids it.

The Hindu kalava looks suspiciously similar to the “kabbalah” red string.

In fact, Hinduism has a custom to wear a red string called kalava around one’s wrist in order to ward off evil. This is precisely what The Kabbalah Centre claims their red string accomplishes. Based on this alone it would be best to avoid wearing such a red string. The Lubavitcher Rebbe was one of the recent authorities who stated that the red string should not be worn due to darkei Emori. Factoring in that the red string has no basis in the Zohar or any traditional Jewish mystical text is all the more reason to stay away from this practice.

Has the Erev Rav Infiltrated Orthodox Judaism, Too?

Last week we opened with a discussion of the Erev Rav, a small group within the Jewish people whose souls stir nothing but trouble for the nation. Their origins are not Israelite, and although halachically Jewish—and possibly even well-meaning people who are not consciously aware of their inner nature—they aim to destroy God’s original Torah. We cited the Arizal in explaining how the weapon of the Erev Rav is da’at: logic, reason, and knowledge, which they twist in the wrong ways to lead people astray.

The Zohar continues to speak of the Erev Rav in its commentary on this week’s parasha, Beshalach, most famous for the account of the Splitting of the Sea. The Zohar starts with an examination of the first verses in the portion, which state that God did not lead the nation directly to Israel, but round-about through the wilderness surrounding the Red Sea. The Torah says God did this so that the nation would not march near the mighty Philistines and fearfully want to return to Egypt.

The Zohar asks: why does God say “the people” (ha’am), and not “My people” (‘ami), as He had always said previously? The Zohar answers that this is because the Erev Rav was among the people, and goes on to prove that whenever the Torah says ha’am (such as in the Golden Calf episode), it refers specifically to the wicked Erev Rav. It was they who would fear the Philistines and might wish to return to Egypt, for certainly no true Israelite would ever wish to return to the slavery and brutality from which they had finally escaped.

The Zohar goes on to confirm that it was the Erev Rav who was responsible for the Golden Calf, and the resultant exile of the Jewish people, as well as “the deaths of thousands among Israel, the submission to foreign kingdoms, and the breaking of the Tablets”. It is the Erev Rav that leads Israel astray, and keeps them in exile. They seek to “break the Tablets”—to twist the Torah in a false direction. And the result is the many horrible catastrophes that befall the nation.

We wrote last week how the Shabbateans, Frankists, and even the leaders of Reform Judaism fit the mold of a modern Erev Rav very well. But what about the Orthodox Jewish world? Has the Erev Rav infiltrated traditional Orthodox communities?

A Battle of Rabbinic Giants

Rav Yonatan Eybeschutz

In the first half of the 18th century, in the decades that immediately followed the Shabbatean heresy, two of the great Ashkenazi rabbis were Yonatan Eybeschutz (1690-1764) and Yakov Emden (1697-1776). Rav Eybeschutz was born in Poland and was quickly recognized as a saintly prodigy, even as a child. He eventually settled in Prague, and would become the head of the city’s yeshiva and its top judge. In 1750 he was elected as the chief rabbi of the “Three Communities” of Altona, Hamburg, and Wandsbek. Altona was the birthplace of Rav Emden, who presided over one of its main synagogues and the city’s printing press.

As we mentioned last week, Prague was one of the strongholds of the Shabbateans. It seems that a young Eybeschutz may have dabbled in some Shabbateanism early on, but rejected it as he grew older and wiser. A text called V’Avo HaYom el Ha‘Ayin originated in Prague in 1724 and was clearly trying to infuse Shabbatean ideas among traditional Jews. Some, including Rav Emden, pointed a finger at Rav Eybeschutz. The latter defended his innocence, and in 1725 spoke out publicly and passionately against Shabbateanism.

The controversy died down, only to be reignited in 1751 by Emden shortly after Eybeschutz was elected as chief rabbi (beating out Emden, who was also a candidate for the position). Apparently, a number of amulets authored by Rav Eybeschutz had Shabbatean symbolism. Eybeschutz again pleaded his innocence, but the attacks grew stronger. Rabbi Yakov Yehoshua Falk (the Pnei Yehoshua, 1680-1756) weighed in, writing of Eybeschutz that “All of his deeds, from the earliest times, are characterized by deceit.”

Rabbi Eliyahu Kramer, the Vilna Gaon

Rav Eybeschutz went on a campaign to prove his innocence, collecting 50 letters with 300 signatures of various rabbis that attested to his fine character and virtue. Interestingly, one of the people he asked was a young Rabbi Eliyahu ben Shlomo, the Vilna Gaon (1720-1797). At this time, the Gaon was virtually unknown outside of Vilnius. He began his response with a long, flattering address to “the leader of the nation… the true gaon, the famous, the profound, the erudite lamp of Israel… our teacher and rabbi, Rabbi Yonatan…” yet went on to imply that he could not really take a stance on the matter, for “I come from a distant land, I am young, I hold no office.” He goes on to ask Rav Yonatan for forgiveness, and “that you judge me favourably.” He did seem to suggest that the amulets in question were not inappropriate.

Rav Emden went on to publish his own response to Rav Eybeschutz, and called the Vilna Gaon’s light defence “the testimony of a boor from Vilna, an ignorant youth…” Although Emden later regretted this remark—when he realized how saintly and wise that “ignorant youth” really was—he was known to lash out at others with such fiery language. He accused many more of being closet Shabbateans, even the great Ramchal (Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, 1707-1746)! And he scuffled with those who weren’t Shabbateans, too. Emden got into trouble with Rav Moshe Hagiz (1671-1750), the chief Sephardic rabbi of Altona, as well as with Rav Ezekiel Katzenellenbogen (1670-1749), the chief Ashkenazi rabbi of Altona. Some credit Emden with squashing Shabbateanism, while others critique that it was Emden who first made it fashionable to criticize rabbis and speak derogatorily about them—now unfortunately a common practise.

Moses Mendelssohn

Emden was himself a controversial figure, known for a number of questionable stances. He wanted to reinstate polygamy (to be fair, so did the Vilna Gaon, but for other reasons), or at least permit concubines. He spoke negatively of philosophy and science, but positively of alchemy and Christianity; wrote that the Rambam’s Moreh Nevuchim (“Guide for the Perplexed”) was written by an imposter, and that major chunks of the Zohar are false. More disturbingly, he had a great relationship with Moses Mendelssohn, the founder of the Haskalah movement and one of the early fathers of reform—whom we had linked with the modern Erev Rav.

It is therefore quite difficult to determine who was right in the Emden-Eybeschutz controversy. Many scholars believe that Eybeschutz may have been a Shabbatean in his youth until 1724, but certainly was not after this. After all, he himself decreed a herem (excommunication) upon the Shabbateans. Yet, he also spoke positively of Mendelssohn and of Christianity, and even hired a former student who had converted to Christianity. In 1760, a group of students from Eybeschutz’s yeshiva revealed themselves to be Shabbateans, resulting in the closure of the yeshiva. At the same time, his son Wolf Eybeschutz joined the Frankists and claimed to be a Shabbatean prophet!

It appears this was enough proof for Emden, who declared himself the winner of the controversy. In fact, he changed his name from Yakov to Israel (or added “Israel” to his name), just as the Biblical Jacob’s name was changed to Israel because he had “fought with great men and prevailed” (Genesis 32:29). The two rabbis died within a couple of years of each other (both were buried in Altona’s Jewish cemetery within a stone’s throw of one another), and the controversy was soon forgotten, replaced by a new one: Chassidim vs. Mitnagdim.

The Battle to Save Judaism

We wrote last week how the Baal Shem Tov, founder of the Chassidic movement, worked tirelessly to defeat the Frankists and Shabbateans. His Chassidism arguably saved Judaism by providing a kosher alternative to Shabbatean mysticism. At the same time, the early Chassidim appear to have themselves been influenced by Shabbateans, particularly in Poland. The Baal Shem Tov, too, was known to study and speak highly of a book called Sefer HaTzoref. This massive work was written by Yehoshua Heschel Zoref (1633-1700) of Vilna, who had declared himself Mashiach ben Yosef to Shabbatai Tzvi’s Mashiach ben David. Some argue the Baal Shem Tov was unaware of the book’s origins. Nonetheless, Zoref would start a “Chassidic” movement of his own in Lithuania and Cracow. This is one reason why the Vilna Gaon (in Lithuania) was so antagonistic towards the wider Chassidic movement, among whom there could be lurking secret Shabbateans.

In all likelihood, genuine Shabbateanism died out among the Chassidim, and the movement as a whole would prove itself to be legitimate. But various Shabbatean-like tendencies remained, including both occasional antinomianism and frequent messianism. Others “proved” their innocence by being scrupulously pious, as many secret Frankists had done. This kind of piety would become a staple of Chassidism, so much so that “Ultra-Orthodoxy” and “Chassidism” are often used interchangeably by the public. Whether through senseless additional rules that have no origin in Torah, or through blind worship of their rebbes bordering on idolatry, many Chassidic groups have twisted the Torah in a false direction.

Meanwhile, there are those that are vehemently opposed to the State of Israel, as if yearning to stay in exile forever. Yes, the State of Israel is far from ideal, and is not religious as it needs to be, but instead of crusading against it so passionately, why not work to make it the way it should be? Why not put the same effort into infusing Israel with more spirituality and influencing its leaders in a positive direction instead of causing divisions and hillul Hashem? There are even those who have, in a show of support, brazenly met with genocidal Arab and Iranian leaders—do they not realize these people want to “drive the Jews into the sea”? Regardless of one’s stance on the State, there are innocent Jewish families living in the Holy Land, as God commanded them to. Amazingly, the Zohar on this week’s parasha explicitly says that it is the Erev Rav which strives to bring catastrophes upon the Jewish people and keep Jews forever in exile. These “chassidim” do exactly that.

The most famous (and most vehement) of the anti-Israel Chassidic sects, ‘Neturei Karta’ (clockwise from top left) meeting with Hamas Prime Minister Ismail Haniyeh, joining an anti-Israel protest in Berlin (under the eye of the Ayatollah), and meeting with former Iranian president Ahmadinejad.

The Battle for Each of Us

We said previously that the power of the Erev Rav is in manipulating knowledge, or da’at. We showed how Reform leaders have used it to twist Jews to the extreme left and abandon the Torah. The same can be done in the opposite direction, though, where Judaism is taken to the other extreme; to the point where the religion becomes a prison of fences, and we forget the real mitzvah that the fences are supposed to safeguard. The Talmud calls this phenomenon being a chassid shoteh, or “pious” to the point of foolishness. Sadly, the Orthodox world of today is full of this. We wrote in the past how the great Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananiah said this kind of extreme legalism will turn people away from Judaism, make it impossible for the majority to fulfil the law, and destroy the religion in the long run. He went so far as to say that the chassid shoteh “brings destruction upon the world” (Sotah 20a). In many ways, he was right.

Ironically, it is usually these same people who convince others that they are the true holders of Torah and everyone else is only a pretender. The Tanakh speaks of such hypocrites, with God proclaiming that tofsei haTorah lo yeda’uni, “the upholders of Torah do not know Me” (Jeremiah 2:8). God did not say the gentiles don’t know Him, or the idol worshippers, or the Jews that have gone astray, but specifically the Jews who think they know and uphold the Torah best are the ones who are often furthest from Hashem. And this all goes back to another famous prophecy from the Talmud (Sotah 49b):

In the footsteps of Mashiach, insolence will increase and honour dwindle… the meeting place of scholars will be used for immorality… the wisdom of the learned will degenerate, fearers of sin will be despised, and the truth will be missing…

The Talmud speaks of our days as a time when real ancient wisdom will literally “rot” away, when heresy and corruption will be rampant among scholars and leaders, the genuinely righteous and God-fearing will be rejected, and the truth will be hard to find.

It is therefore absolutely incumbent upon every single Jew today to constantly evaluate the community and congregation they are a part of, and to use their critical thinking in analyzing their leaders and their hashkafa. There are many truly virtuous, saintly rabbis, and there are also a fair share of their wayward counterparts that masquerade as such. Do your research, use your head, and listen to your gut. Do not be a sheep.

That Year When Sukkot was 14 Days Long and Everyone Ate on Yom Kippur

The Haftarah reading for the second day of Sukkot is a passage from the Book of Kings. The passage describes how the Jewish people inaugurated the Holy Temple in Jerusalem:

And all the people of Israel assembled themselves unto King Solomon at the feast, in the month of Eitanim, which is the seventh month. And all the elders of Israel came, and the priests took up the Ark. And they brought up the Ark of Hashem, and the Tent of Meeting, and all the holy vessels that were in the Tent; even these did the priests and the Levites bring up… (I Kings 8:2-4)

1896 Illustration of King Solomon Drafting Plans for the First Temple

The passage goes on to describe the offerings presented to God, and then the speech and blessings delivered by Solomon to the people. The Haftarah ends at this point, but the Tanakh continues to relate a prayer of Solomon, where he asks God to bless the Davidic dynasty, to maintain His presence in the new Temple, and to act justly with the Jewish people. Solomon requests for God to forgive the sins of Israel, to protect them, and to keep them as His treasured people. He asks God to keep the Jews on the right path, and give them strength to fulfil their mission in this world: “So that all the peoples of the Earth may know that Hashem, He is God; there is none else.” The chapter concludes with some puzzling words:

So Solomon held the feast at that time, and all Israel with him, a great congregation, from the entrance of Hamath unto the Brook of Egypt, before Hashem our God, seven days and seven days, fourteen days altogether. On the eighth day he sent the people away, and they blessed the king, and went unto their tents joyful and glad of heart for all the goodness that Hashem had shown unto David His servant, and to Israel His people. (I Kings 8:65-66)

Since we are talking about the month of Tishrei (then known as Eitanim), the seven-day festival must be Sukkot, and the eighth day that is mentioned must be Shemini Atzeret. The text says that the festival was fourteen days, an extra week in honour of the Temple inauguration. That means Sukkot started a week early, on the 8th of Tishrei. If that’s the case, what happened to Yom Kippur, on the 10th?

The Talmud (Mo’ed Katan 9a) surprisingly states that Yom Kippur was not commemorated that year, as it was superseded by the Temple’s inauguration! But how could such a thing be done? Yom Kippur is a clear commandment from the Torah! What gave Solomon and his elders the authority to negate a Torah mitzvah in order to throw a party?

An Era of New Holidays

The Midrash famously prophesies that a day will come when all the current holidays will be nullified (except for Purim, according to most opinions). Meanwhile, Zechariah prophesied that all the fast days will be transformed into feast days (Zechariah 8:19). When will this happen? When Mashiach comes, of course. And who is Mashiach?

Mashiach is a descendent of King David, who establishes a united Jewish kingdom in the Holy Land, builds a Temple in Jerusalem, and brings peace to the world. Solomon was the son of David, ruled over a united Jewish kingdom, built the first Temple, and successfully brought peace to the whole region, if not the whole world. (According to tradition, there were no wars at all during Solomon’s reign, hence his name Shlomo, which means “peace”.) Solomon fit the bill of Mashiach perfectly, and was quite literally Mashiach ben David.

And so, since there is an established tradition and prophecy that Mashiach’s coming will nullify the holidays, there was no need for Yom Kippur. If that’s the case, why celebrate Sukkot? Shouldn’t Sukkot be nullified as well? Amazingly, the Haftarah reading for the first day of Sukkot tells us:

And it shall come to pass, that every one that is left of all the nations that came against Jerusalem shall go up from year to year to worship the King, the Lord of Hosts, and to keep the feast of tabernacles.

Sukkah decoration featuring the “Sukkah of Leviathan”, in which the righteous shall feast with Mashiach during the festival of Sukkot. (Malkhut Vaxberger, www.mwaxb.co.il)

The prophet Zechariah stated that after Mashiach’s coming, the land of Israel will finally be secured for the Jewish people, and once a year—only once a year—all the nations of the world will come to celebrate together with the Jews. What will they celebrate? The feast of tabernacles, Chag haSukkot!

While all the current Jewish holidays (except Purim) may indeed become nullified, Sukkot will transform into a special international holiday for the whole world. Thus, King Solomon’s nullification of Yom Kippur and establishment of an extra-long, special Sukkot is right in line with what’s supposed to happen when Mashiach comes. (A careful reading of the verses even suggests that Solomon invited the nations for the festival: “a great congregation” from Hamath until Egypt.)

Was Solomon the Messiah?

All of the above begs the question: was King Solomon the prophesied messiah? It appears Solomon should have been the messiah, but unfortunately failed to fulfil this role. As is well-known, Solomon’s taking of one thousand wives and concubines was not for his personal pleasure, God forbid, but in order to make peace treaties with all the surrounding nations and kingdoms, and to introduce them to monotheism. Had he been successful in this, Solomon would have been Mashiach.

Instead, Solomon was unable to control those wives and concubines, and they turned him to idolatry. To be fair, it is highly unlikely that Solomon himself participated in idolatrous practices. Rather, because he was unable to reign in his wives, and his palace had become filled with idols, the Heavenly Court considered him personally responsible, and Scripture describes it as if Solomon himself fell into idolatry.

1553 Illustration of King Yehoash, or Joash

We read that Solomon’s reign lasted 40 years. This is, in fact, the prophesied length of time that Mashiach is supposed to rule (see Sanhedrin 99a, and Midrash Tehillim 15). It was also the length of David’s reign, and the righteous kings Asa and Yehoash. It appears all of these were potential messiahs. The same is true for Moses, who led the Israelites for 40 years. According to tradition, had Moses entered the land with the people, the Temple would have been built, and the World to Come would have been ushered in immediately.

Alas, it wasn’t meant to be, and we continue to await the day when (Zechariah 14:9) “Hashem shall be King over all the Earth; in that day Hashem will be One, and His Name one…”

Chag Sameach! 

Courtesy: Temple Institute

Why Immerse Dishes in a Mikveh?

This week’s parasha is the double portion of Matot-Massei. We read how the Israelites struck back against the Midianites, with a twelve-thousand strong army led by Pinchas that absolutely decimated the enemy. After the battle, Moses instructed that all the warriors must undergo purification (as they had come in contact with corpses), and so too do “all garments, leather items, goat products, and wooden vessels” (Numbers 31:20). Following this, the kohen gadol Elazar proclaimed:

This is the statute that Hashem has commanded Moses: “Only the gold, the silver, the copper, the iron, the tin, and the lead—whatever is used in fire—you shall pass through fire and then it will be pure; it must also be cleansed with sprinkling water. And whatever is not used in fire you shall pass through water. You shall wash your garments on the seventh day and become pure; afterwards, you may enter the camp.”

This is the source for the mitzvah of tevilat kelim, the immersion in a mikveh of vessels used for food. Metal dishes, cutlery, and the like that were previously owned by a non-Jew must be purified before a Jew can use them. Although the Torah mentions gold, silver, copper, iron, tin, and lead specifically, the prohibition was extended to all metals, as well as glass, since glass can also be melted and reformed like metal. Wood and earthenware do not require immersion.

What is the reason for this mitzvah?

Searching for Answers

What exactly do the non-Jewish vessels need to be purified from? The first thing that comes to mind is that non-kosher food was eaten with those vessels, so they need to be made kosher. However, this is already accomplished when the Torah says to put these vessels “through fire”. As is well known from diligent Passover cleaning, vessels are made kosher through the way they are used, so for instance, vessels used with hot food must be koshered with boiling water, etc. This does not require a mikveh. A mikveh is not for physical purification but for spiritual purification.

Some say that the non-Jewish vessels need to be cleansed of the impurity of idolatry. Perhaps they were used in idolatrous ceremonies, or made by a pagan with idolatrous intentions. This makes sense, except that the halakha states (Yoreh De’ah 120:8) that a Jew is actually allowed to borrow dishes from an idol worshipper and use them without immersing in a mikveh!

Others say the vessels need to be purified from the greatest of tumah: death. Indeed, this is the context of the original Torah verses, where Moses and Elazar command the returning warriors to be purified from their contact with corpses, and to purify all the captured belongings as well. The Torah states that the vessels must be “cleansed with sprinkling water”, referring to the sprinkling done with the waters of parah adumah, the red cow. So, immersion might make sense for vessels captured in warfare, but little sense for new dishes purchased from a store. Regardless, the tumah of death cannot be removed in our days anyway since we have no red cow waters.

Complications & Loopholes

The most common explanation for tevilat kelim today is simply that when non-Jewish dishes become Jewish, they must be spiritually purified, much like a non-Jew who converts to Judaism requires immersion. Ironically, though, some halakhic opinions state that a convert does not need to immerse their old vessels! The bigger problem here is that this type of logic can be applied to anything—why stop at dishes and cutlery? Maybe we should immerse our clothes in a mikveh as well? After all, this is precisely what Moses commanded the returning warriors when he said to purify “all garments, leather items” and so on.

And what about vessels that cannot be immersed? Toasters and hot plates, for example, touch food directly, but obviously cannot be submerged in water because they are electrical. Some state that these should be immersed as much as possible, without getting the electrical components wet. Of course, that’s not overly effective since mikveh requires total immersion. This is why others creatively state that such appliances should be “gifted” to a non-Jew and then “borrowed” back permanently!

Speaking of loopholes, anyone who “sells” their chametz dishes on Passover to a non-Jew would theoretically have to take these dishes to the mikveh again! There is even a problem of drinking a beverage from a metal or glass container. Can of pop? Bottle of Snapple? These are non-Jewish vessels! Some ingenious loopholes were created in such cases, including that one should have in mind while purchasing to only buy the contents inside, not the container! (Others maintain it is forbidden, and the liquid must be poured into a kosher cup first.)

Making Sense of the Torah

One can argue that there is no logic to tevilat kelim because it is a chok, traditionally interpreted as a law inexplicable to human reasoning. Indeed, the Torah introduces this command by stating zot chukat haTorah, a preface that only appears two other times: with the red cow, and with the Pesach offering. (In total, the term “chok” is used twenty times in the Torah.) In reality, there is no need to draw such a conclusion. The entire dilemma can be avoided by properly reading the Torah, in context.

Moses told twelve thousand warriors to purify their belongings following a battle. First of all, this was not a mitzvah directed at the entire nation, but to a contingent of soldiers and their loot. Secondly, the command was to purify all things, not just vessels for food. Elazar haKohen clarified what Moses commanded by stating that metal things should be purified with fire, while things that cannot be put through a flame—like wood and leather—should be purified with water. Today, we do not pass newly acquired vessels through fire, nor do we purify wood or leather in a mikveh. Why do we still immerse metal and glass food vessels?

Perhaps the answer requires an entirely different approach. The Baal Shem Tov taught that “God transforms spirituality into physicality; the Jew makes physical things spiritual.” In this light, there is certainly beauty, and meaning, in uplifting our newly-purchased physical vessels, and making spiritual what is otherwise something quite mundane.


How Moses Smashed the Two Temples

Tomorrow is the seventeenth of Tammuz, one of the six public fast days in the Jewish calendar. The Talmud (Ta’anit 26b, 28b) tells us that the Sages instituted this fast because of a number of tragedies that occurred on this date: the daily offerings ceased in the First Temple, and an idol was erected there; and a Torah scroll was burned in the Second Temple, and Jerusalem’s walls were breached by the Romans leading to that Temple’s destruction. The Jerusalem Talmud notes that the walls of Jerusalem were breached on the 17th of Tammuz in the destruction of both Temples. Perhaps most importantly, the first tragedy that occurred on the 17th of Tammuz was that Moses shattered the Two Tablets after coming down from Sinai to find the Israelites worshipping the Golden Calf. What is the connection between these events?

Ten Commandments on Two Tablets

‘Moses Breaking the Tablets of the Law’ by Gustav Doré

The Two Tablets which Moses brought down from Sinai were engraved with the Ten Commandments—five on one tablet, and five on the other. The first five commandments deal with mitzvot between God and man (bein adam l’Makom): knowing that there is one God, and not to have other gods, not to take God’s name in vain, to keep the Sabbath, and to honour one’s parents. The second five are between man and his fellow (bein adam l’havero): not to murder, commit adultery, steal, bear false witness, and be jealous. The command to honour one’s parents may seem like it should belong in the second category, but it is considered to be in the first category because the relationship between a parent and child is likened to that between God and man. If a person cannot honour their physical, earthly parents, how could they ever properly honour their Father in Heaven?

Why Were the Temples Destroyed?

The most commonly cited reason for the destruction of the First Temple is idolatry. Indeed, the Talmud cited above states that one of the tragedies of the seventeenth of Tammuz is that an idol was erected in the First Temple on that day. A second major reason for the First Temple’s destruction is Israel’s failure to observe shemittah, the seventh-year Sabbath. In fact, it is said that the reason Israel was exiled for seventy years following the First Temple’s destruction is because they failed to observe seventy sabbaticals (based on II Chronicles 36:21).

Meanwhile, it is well-known that the Second Temple was primarily destroyed because of sinat hinam, baseless hatred between Jews. Idolatry was no longer a factor in the Second Temple, since the Sages had successfully prayed to God to have the desire for idolatry removed from Israel (Sanhedrin 64a). The late Second Temple period was one of great religious fervour, and the vast majority of Jews at the time were Torah observant. However, there were multiple interpretations of the Torah, leading to endless bickering between different Jewish factions, especially the Perushim (Pharisees) and Tzdukim (Sadducees), and even deeper internal rifts within these factions. The Talmud states that it was in the Second Temple period that “the Torah was burned”, alluding to the fact that these internecine conflicts were destroying the Torah and ripping apart the Jewish people.

Shattering Stones

When looking at the reasons for the two Temples’ destruction, a clear connection to the Two Tablets emerges. We see that the First Temple was destroyed for failure to observe the five commandments on the first Tablet, while the Second Temple was destroyed for failure to observe the five on the second Tablet. Worshipping idols and failing to keep the Sabbatical year touches on pretty much every single mitzvah on the first Tablet—bein adam l’Makom—while sinat hinam represents transgressions between a person and their fellow, bein adam l’havero.

The Talmud states that on the seventeenth of Tammuz, the breaching of the walls leading to both Temples’ destruction occurred. On that very same day centuries earlier, Moses shattered the Tablets. His smashing of the two stones symbolizes the two future “smashings” of Jerusalem’s stone walls: the first Tablet to the First Temple, and the second Tablet to the Second Temple.

Ultimately, God forgave the people for their sin, and Moses later brought a new set of Tablets. These new Tablets were not smashed. They were placed in the Ark of the Covenant, which is said to have been hidden, awaiting the day when it can return to its rightful place in the final, Third Temple. And so, while the first broken Tablets represent the first two broken Temples, the final set of Tablets symbolizes the last, everlasting Temple, within which they will soon be housed.

‘Going Up To The Third Temple’ by Ofer Yom Tov