At the end of this week’s parasha, Vayeshev, we read that it was “Pharaoh’s birthday” (Genesis 40:20). This is the only place in the Torah that explicitly mentions a birthday, which leads to the question: are birthday celebrations kosher? Where did birthday parties come from, and what is so special about the day of birth anyway?
At the beginning of this week’s parasha, Tetzave, the Torah describes the special garments worn by the Kohanim. Making these garments requires the use of three unique dyed fabrics: tekhelet, argaman, v’tola’at shani, “blue, purple, and crimson wool”. Last year, we discussed tola’at shani and the practice of wearing a red string on the wrist. This year we will explore the other two ingredients: tekhelet and argaman. What are they and where do they come from?
Argaman is more commonly known as “Tyrian purple” or “royal purple”, a famous and prized dye in ancient times. Historical records and archaeological findings show that as early as 3500 years ago, trade in Tyrian purple was widespread across the Mediterranean and the Middle East. It was the Phoenicians who were experts in its production, and carried it around the region. (In fact, the root of the term Phoenician means “purple” in Greek. Similarly, some scholars have found evidence that Canaan means “dye merchant”.) Tyrian purple was worth at least as much as silver, and in some points in history, more than gold.
By the Roman Era, it was so expensive and prized that it was essentially only worn by royalty, hence “royal purple”. An average Roman, or even a Roman senator, would wear a toga pura, plain white, while magistrates and priests wore a toga praetexta, with a purple stripe or hem. Only the emperor would wear a toga picta, one that was entirely dyed purple, with gold embroidery. (Such a toga might also be worn by high ranking generals during their victory processions, as well as by the consuls.)
How did the Phoenicians produce argaman? It was extracted from the glands of shellfish on the Phoenician shores of the Eastern Mediterranean. These Murex snails make the dye as a defense mechanism, spraying it on potential predators (just as squids and octopuses, their mollusc relatives, famously do). Research shows that the snails also use the dye for their own predatory behaviour when catching prey, and also as an antimicrobial to protect their eggs. To extract the dye, the snails are either “milked”, which takes a very long time, or more commonly, pierced through their shells to have the glands removed. It would take over 10,000 snails to produce just a few grams of dye!
Tekhelet was made the same way. Though not nearly as popular in ancient times, it was known as “royal blue”. The Phoenicians made it the same way, extracted from a snail. Some say it was derived from a different species of snail, while others point out that the same Tyrian purple, when exposed to large amounts of UV radiation (sunlight), becomes blue.
The Talmud (Menachot 44a) states that the dye was made from chilazon, a snail “whose body resembles the sea, and its form resembles a fish, and it comes up once in seventy years, and with its blood one dyes tekhelet, and therefore its blood is expensive.” It’s not quite the blood of the snail that makes the dye, of course, nor do the snails emerge only once in seventy years. This bit probably entered the Talmud because by that point in history, tekhelet production among Jews had long ended, and knowledge of its exact extraction forgotten. It was probably difficult, if not entirely impossible, for Jews to get their hands on it.
Dr. Baruch Sterman, in a paper for B’Or HaTorah (vol. 11, pg. 185), points out that by the 4th century CE it was actually a crime for a commoner to wear tekhelet across the Roman world. It is highly likely that it was then, for this reason, that most Jews stopped using tekhelet in their tzitzit. Dr. Sterman brings proof from the Talmud (Sanhedrin 12a), where we read how two rabbis were arrested by the Romans for possessing tekhelet. Wealthy Jews living in the Persian Empire continued to pay exorbitant rates to import and use it, until sometime in the middle of the 7th century. It was then, likely due to the rise of Islam and the rapid Arab conquest of the region, that use of tekhelet among all Jews essentially ceased. This is why until today the majority of Jews do not use tekhelet in their tzitzit (as the Torah commands). However, in recent decades, the Murex snails have been rediscovered, and tekhelet is once again available.
Having said all that, Karaite Jews—a small group that rejects the Talmud—believe that tekhelet (and argaman) could not have been derived from snails. And they actually have a couple of seemingly valid points.
The Problem of Karaite Tekhelet
The Karaites believe that tekhelet cannot come from a snail because the Torah would not command something so important to come from a non-kosher animal. They also argue that royal blue tekhelet from snails would have been far too expensive for the average Israelite. Finally, they point out that God commanded this to the Israelites in the Wilderness—so where would they find sea snails in the middle of the desert? Instead, Karaite scholars proposed that tekhelet came from an indigo plant, such as the Indian Indigofera tinctoria (incidentally, this is the indigo once used to dye jeans blue).
Another, more likely, possibility is the woad plant, Isatis tinctoria, which contains the same indigo dye. This plant actually grows in Israel, and was once known as “Asp of Jerusalem”. Interestingly, the Mishnah (Megillah 4:7) states how Kohanim are forbidden from blessing the congregation if their hands are stained with “istis”, ie. the Isatis tinctoria dye. The Bartenura (Rabbi Ovadiah of Bartenura, c. 1445-1515) confirms that istis is a dye “whose colour resembles tekhelet”. This makes it clear that Kohanim in the ancient Holy Temple did use woad as a blue dye, though for what purpose is unclear.
Karaite Jews today continue to make tekhelet from indigo or woad to dye their tzitzit. Since Karaites hold strictly to the Written Torah, they maintain that tzitzit must be blue (and cannot be entirely white like most current “Rabbinic” tzitzit). They hold that any blue dye is fine, since the Torah does not explicitly say that other blue dyes are forbidden. The Talmud, meanwhile, states that a person who uses plant-derived blue dyes instead of authentic tekhelet is sinning, and God declares that He will “exact retribution” from such a person (Bava Metzia 61b, see also Tosefta on Menachot 9:6). And here the Karaites should take heed, for when it comes to tekhelet they are absolutely mistaken.
The big problem for the Karaites is basically everyone else. Aristotle (384-322 BCE) wrote in his History of Animals about the production of blue and purple dyes from snails, as did the Roman philosopher and historian Pliny the Elder (23-79 CE) in his Natural History. These were the choicest and best dyes for clothes and fabrics. While tekhelet and argaman were expensive for the distant Greeks and Romans to procure, they would not have been expensive for the ancient Israelites. After all, these dyes were only expensive to purchase; there is no indication that they were expensive to produce. And the Israelites, like the Phoenicians and Canaanites, were the producers. They made the dyes cheaply, and exported them far and wide, for a healthy profit.
It was only in later centuries, when Israel was no longer an independent entity and was subject to a series of foreign empires, that Jews lost control of the means of tekhelet production. Tekhelet became rarer, and more expensive, and eventually forbidden. This development only occurred in the late Second Temple era, and possibly later. Still, when chemists in the 1990s analyzed blue fabrics uncovered at the Masada archaeological site, they discovered that the fabrics were indeed dyed with Murex snail tekhelet. Even in the late Second Temple era, tekhelet was available and used widely. Besides, the average Israelite in those days would have needed only a minute amount to dye a handful of strings to fulfil the mitzvah of tzitzit.
Another bit of evidence for the fact that snail dye was the real tekhelet comes from the Tanakh itself. While we’ve already seen how historical and archaeological records make it clear that the ancient Phoenicians were experts in snail dyes (not any plant-based blue dyes), we mustn’t forget that these same Phoenicians were heavily involved in the production of Israelite holy items, too! We read in the haftarah for last week’s parasha (I Kings 5:26-6:13) how King Solomon made an agreement with the Phoenician King Hiram, and the latter’s workers played an instrumental role in the construction of the Holy Temple. Granted, this was not the Mishkan of the Wilderness, but the later Temple was based on the earlier Mishkan, and the items were fashioned to the same specifications.
Where was Hiram’s capital city? The Tanakh always refers to him as melekh tzor, “King of Tyre”. This is the selfsame Tyre as the Tyre of Tyrian purple and Tyrian royal blue. We read how “Hiram, king of Tyre, sent his servants to Solomon…” (I Kings 5:15) It is hard to believe that it’s only a coincidence that the Tyrians renowned around the ancient world for their snail dyes are the same ones that the Tanakh tells us worked in Jerusalem! The evidence is therefore quite strong that tekhelet and argaman are the same as the snail-derived Tyrian dyes.
Tekhelet in the Wilderness
The nail on the coffin comes from an even more ancient historical text. Long before Pliny, Aristotle, and even Hiram, the ancient Egyptian Papyrus Anastasi I—dated back to the Nineteenth Dynasty (c. 1292-1189 BCE)—mentions how a royal blue dye is made from sea creatures and smells like putrid fish. This is particularly important because the Nineteenth Dynasty was the time of Pharaoh Ramses II, who is the one most associated with the Exodus. Ramses II built a new capital city which, of course, he named after himself, and which archaeologists have uncovered and refer to as Pi-Ramesses. This is the same city that the Torah mentions the Israelite slaves built (Exodus 1:11). Putting the pieces together, we now have an answer to the question posed by the Karaites: how did the Israelites find tekhelet and argaman in the Wilderness?
The Torah tells us that when the Israelites left Egypt, God commanded them to ask the Egyptians to give them precious materials: “And the children of Israel did according to the word of Moses, and they asked of the Egyptians jewels of silver, and jewels of gold, and raiment.” (Exodus 12:35) The Israelites got tekhelet and argaman from the same place they got their gold and silver (also used in constructing the Mishkan): from the Egyptians. The Papyrus of Anastasi proves that the ancient Egyptians, too, produced blue and purple dyes from Mediterranean snails. They made “raiment”, garments and fabrics dyed with these colours. The Torah informs us that the Israelites took these fabrics with them. And this is how they had them available for the Mishkan in the Wilderness!
Despite all that’s been said, the Orthodox world today has been very slow in readapting the use of tekhelet. Some rabbis maintain that these Murex snails are not the right ones. The Radziner Rebbe (Rabbi Gershon Henoch Leiner, 1839–1891) didn’t know about the snails at all and instead consulted chemists to produce a blue dye from the common cuttlefish, Sepia officinalis. The problem is that the cuttlefish only produces black ink, and turning it blue was a long chemical process that required adding iron filings. When later analyzed by experts, it was found that the Radziner Rebbe’s dye was basically synthetic, and the blue was simply a result of the added iron. (For more, see Dr. Sterman’s article in B’Or haTorah, cited above.) Meanwhile, Rabbi Isaac Herzog (1888-1959, Israel’s first Chief Rabbi) was an early proponent of snail-derived dyes.
In recent decades, more and more researchers have explored the subject, and today everything points to tekhelet being the blue dye of the Murex trunculus snail. The scientists at Masada confirmed it chemically, and although some state that there is no chemical difference between woad, indigo, and Murex blue, there are small differences in their molecular structure. One with a chemistry background will agree that the addition of even a single atom can dramatically change the nature of a substance. Still, many rabbis are reluctant to adopt tekhelet, and have decided it is best to wait until Mashiach comes just to be sure.
And as for the Karaite argument that the Torah wouldn’t command something derived from a non-kosher animal, this argument falls apart when considering the third ingredient that always goes along with tekhelet and argaman: tola’at shani. The word is literally translated as a “crimson worm” or, more accurately, “red insect”. Tola’at definitely refers to a bug of some sort, as we read in Exodus 16:20 how leftover manna was infested with tola’im.
Tola’at shani is undoubtedly referring to the common carmine dye used around the world, and known commercially in food as E120. This dye is derived from a variety of scale insects, most commonly the cochineal family of bugs. Professor Zohar Amar of Bar Ilan University spent many years researching tola’at shani and concluded that it is unquestionably a red insect, which nests in the common Israeli oak tree. In fact, the Temple Institute has already begun harvesting these insects to produce an authentic avnet, the priestly belt that requires the red dye, in preparation for Mashiach’s coming and the return of priestly service in the forthcoming Third Temple.
In this week’s parasha, Vayetze, we read how Jacob journeys to his relatives in Charan and the details of his twenty-year sojourn there. He falls in love with Rachel at first sight, then works tirelessly for seven years for the privilege of marrying her. When that fateful day comes, his father-in-law Lavan tricks him into marrying Rachel’s sister, Leah. Jacob is then forced to work another seven gruelling years. We read how Jacob didn’t care very much for Leah, as he only truly wanted to marry Rachel, and Leah felt entirely unloved. One question to ask is why Jacob didn’t simply divorce her? He had no intention of marrying Leah in the first place. One can argue that the marriage was null and void from the beginning, since a person must be aware of whom they are marrying. Why did Jacob stay with her? A number of explanations have been given for this:
The simplest is that Jacob pitied her. Lavan tricked Jacob into marrying Leah because she had no suitors. She would have grown old, all alone, and Jacob did not want to abandon her once they had been “married”. Another take on this is that Rachel was the one that deeply pitied her sister, and herself asked Jacob to stay married to Leah. One version of this story has it that Rachel even instructed Leah in how to play the part of Rachel so that Jacob wouldn’t be able to distinguish between them (see Bava Batra 123a).
From a spiritual perspective, this whole thing can be seen as one big middah k’neged middah—“measure for measure”—consequence: since Jacob had tricked his father into taking his brother’s blessing, he was now, in turn, tricked by his father-in-law. On a deeper level, we have written before how, when Jacob took his brother’s birthright and blessing, he essentially took on his brother’s mission in life. In the original conception of things, Jacob and Esau should have been twin holy warriors, with Jacob fighting the spiritual battles and Esau fighting the physical battles for God. When Esau failed, Jacob took over that mission. This is symbolized by the new name he was given: Israel, one who “fights with [or, alongside] God”. Jacob is unique in that the Torah continues to shift between his new and old name (whereas, for example, once Abram became “Abraham”, he is never again referred to as “Abram”). This is because Jacob and Israel are not old and new names, but rather dual names, for his dual personalities, representing his dual missions.
In the original plan, Jacob was meant to marry Rachel, and Esau was meant to marry Leah. (According to at least one opinion, Rachel and Leah were also fraternal twins, like Jacob and Esau; see Seder Olam Rabbah, ch. 2.) Once Jacob took over Esau’s mission and birthright, he also took on his wife. This is why he had to marry her! And he knew it all along. The Midrash states that Jacob initially feared marrying Leah because Esau would come after him for it! (Midrash Tanchuma, Vayetze 12 in Buber edition.) Meanwhile, another Midrash says that Jacob did love Leah, but turned away from her when she pointed out that her father tricked Jacob in the same way Jacob had tricked his own father, measure for measure (Lekach Tov on Genesis 27).
Whatever the case, their marriage was an unhappy one. Leah always felt unloved, and named all of her kids in relation to her hope that her husband would finally cherish her. He didn’t. Meanwhile, the wife he did love—Rachel—was barren for many years, and this strained their relationship tremendously (Genesis 30:1-2). It is little wonder that when Jacob meets Pharaoh decades later, he tells him that his whole life has been miserable (Genesis 47:9).
Jacob made many mistakes in his life, and such mistakes, of course, need rectification. This is where the Arizal (Rabbi Isaac Luria, 1534-1572) comes in, explaining how Jacob’s life was rectified in the life of King David.
David and Abigail
In Sha’ar HaGilgulim, “Gate of Reincarnations”, Rabbi Chaim Vital (1543-1620, the Arizal’s primary disciple) details Lavan’s various incarnations. Lavan’s soul was originally rooted in Abel, the son of Adam. The holy part of Abel (הבל), symbolized by the letter hei, was reincarnated in Moses (משה, whose other two letters come from Shem, שם, who was also incarnated in him), while his evil part, symbolized by bet-lamed, reincarnated in Lavan (לבן). Lavan was unable to rectify this part of Abel, and descended into sorcery and evil. Unrepaired, he had to reincarnate once more, as Bilaam (בלעם), the “non-Jewish version” of Moses. Thus, when Moses and Bilaam go head-to-head later in the Torah, they are actually two ancient halves of Abel!
As we know, Bilaam also descended into sorcery and evil, so he had to reincarnate again. This time around, he comes back as Naval (נבל). Recall that Naval was a very wealthy man, “with three thousand sheep and a thousand goats” (I Samuel 25:2). At the time, David and his loyal soldiers were encamped in Carmel, and protected Naval’s shepherds. This was before David had consolidated his monarchy, when King Saul had refused to give up the throne and sought to get rid of David.
David eventually reached out to Naval and asked for his help. He reminded Naval that his soldiers had watched over Naval’s flocks and shepherds, and ensured no harm came upon them. Instead of showing his gratitude, Naval rebuffed David’s messengers. This was wrong for a number of reasons, including the fact that David was already the rightfully-anointed king of Israel, and refusing a king in such a way carries a capital punishment. David armed four hundred of his men and headed towards Naval.
Naval’s wife Abigail got word of what was going on, and went out to greet David and pacify him. She took with her “two hundred loaves, and two bottles of wine, and five sheep ready dressed, and five measures of parched corn, and a hundred clusters of raisins, and two hundred cakes of figs” as a gift (25:18). While David was angrily racing towards Naval and thinking “he has returned me evil for good” and intending to exterminate his entire household (25:21-22), Abigail suddenly appeared. She placates him with a beautiful soliloquy (25:24-31), to which David responds:
Blessed be Hashem, the God of Israel, who sent you this day to meet me; and blessed be your discretion, and blessed you be, that you have kept me this day from bloodshed, and from finding redress for myself with my own hand.
David spares Naval, and sends Abigail back home in peace. Although David was merciful, God was not, and He struck Naval with what appears to be a heart attack: “his heart died within him, and he became as a stone” (25:37). In the aftermath of the narrative, David ends up marrying the widowed Abigail, and she becomes one of his most important and beloved wives.
In the same way that Lavan reincarnated in Naval, Jacob returned in David. Upon closer examination, the parallels between them are striking. Jacob was the father of the Twelve Tribes, and David was the king that unified the Twelve Tribes into one cohesive kingdom (establishing the only divinely-approved dynasty). Jacob is the one that prayed in Jerusalem at Beit El, literally the “House of God”, placing twelve foundation stones there in his vision of the future Temple, and David was the one that actually acquired Jerusalem and paved the foundations for the Temple at that same Beit El site. Jacob is the only patriarch of whom it is said that he never “died”, just as it is common to sing David melekh Israel chai v’kayam, King David lives on. (The Ba’al HaTurim, on Genesis 32:12, points out many more connections between Jacob and David.)
Jacob’s first flaw was in slaving away for Lavan partly because of his physical desire for the beautiful Rachel (as we see in Genesis 29:21). This was rectified in David because he slaved away for Naval without any ulterior motive, and certainly with no desire for the beautiful Abigail (among the most beautiful women of all time, as per Megillah 15a). Just like Lavan tricked Jacob out of his rightful wages, Naval tricked David out of his rightful wage. Whereas Jacob fled from Lavan and was pursued by Lavan’s army, this time around it was David who had the military might on his side and pursued Naval.
Ultimately, David restrained himself from violence—not stooping to the level of Lavan/Naval—and God took care of the problem for him. He was rewarded with Abigail. And who was she? The Arizal reveals that she contained the spirit of Leah! (Incidentally, the gematria of אביגיל is 56, equal to כלאה, “like Leah”). The first time around, Jacob worked for Rachel and spurned Leah, making her feel “hated”. This time, David rectifies the mistake of his past life by essentially working for Leah, and marrying her willingly and lovingly.
To be clear, the Arizal does not state all of the above explicitly, though it may be extracted from his teachings, as recorded in Sha’ar HaGilgulim (particularly chapter 36). We must keep in mind that Rabbi Chaim Vital’s (together with his son Rabbi Shmuel Vital’s) transcription of his master’s teachings was not perfect, as he himself admits in many instances. He often introduces a statement, or an alternate teaching, with the words נראה לפי עניות דעתי, “it appears, from my limited knowledge…” Sometimes, he also adds פעם אחרת, that “another time” he apparently heard something different.
In the present discussion, the main teaching of the Arizal is actually of a different nature, taking the souls of Jacob and Lavan, Rachel, Leah, and David all the way back to Adam and the “Original Sin”.
Adam and the Snake
The Arizal taught that the Nachash (loosely translated as “snake” or “serpent”) caused Adam to waste two seminal drops. These two seminal drops carried the souls of Rachel and Leah. Lavan carried the essence of the Nachash who had imprisoned those souls. Jacob worked hard in order to free them from Lavan and marry them, because Jacob was a reincarnation of Adam and sought to reunite with those lost spiritual sparks of his. Jacob succeeded in fulfilling this tikkun.
Rachel and Leah were actually sparks of Adam, and parts of Jacob’s own soul. (In addition to the fact that, as Rabbi Vital reminds, a man infuses a part of his own soul into a woman when the two are intimate.) That spirit within Rachel then migrated into her son Benjamin, which is why the Torah tells us that Benjamin was born “when her soul left her” (Genesis 35:18), ie. left Rachel and entered him. The spirit within Leah, meanwhile, went into Abigail. This is why, in one place in Scripture (II Samuel 17:25), she is called Avigail bat Nachash, “Abigail, the daughter of Nachash”, as her spirit had come from those souls taken by the Serpent.
Alternatively, Avigail bat Nachash is not the wife of David, but actually the name of his sister, who was also called Abigail. Rabbi Vital points out (introducing it with those uncertain words פעם אחרת נראה לפי עניות דעתי) that the spirit within Leah split between Abigail the wife of David and Abigail the sister of David, for a completely different tikkun. This was a rectification for the fact that Jacob married two sisters—something explicitly forbidden by the Torah. (To be fair, Jacob lived before the official giving of the Torah.) To fix that error, Leah partially came back within David’s own sister whom, of course, he did not marry, and instead loved like a brother.
If all of this soul migration and rectification sounds complicated, that’s because it is! There are countless souls, each made up of thousands of sparks, all of which are dynamically moving through us, passing throughout history, jumping across space and time, and quietly weaving themselves into the tapestries of our intriguing lives.