A.
This first parasha of the third book of the written Torah opens with Ha-Shem calling Moshe back to the newly erected Mishkan to instruct him in the sacrificial service which would be conducted there. He begins Moshe’s instruction with אדם כי יקריב מכם קרבן לד' מן הבהמה מן הבקר ומן הצאן תקריבו את קרבנכם (“A person [adam], that he should offer a sacrifice [qorban] from you to Ha-Shem; from the beast[s], from the cattle and ovicaprid[s] shall you offer your qorban”; I, 2).
The translation is deliberately awkward, in order to emphasize the rather odd word order of the first clause, adam ki yaqriv mikkem qorban.... Ordinarily, we would expect the particle ki, usually translated “that,” “for,” “because,” and so forth, to introduce the clause, yet here it is the subject of the verb yaqriv which starts it. This odd, idiomatic usage, whilst not exactly rare, is nonetheless distinctive, and serves especially to emphasize the subject of the sentence for one or another reason, and indeed a variety of suggestions may be found in the sëfarim ha-qëdoshim for its use here (עיי' ביחוד רש"י על אתר וגם ירושלמי שקלים פ"א ה"ד).
After running through the various possibilities for voluntary animal sacrifices (as opposed to those mandated for the atonement of sin), we arrive at ונפש כי תקריב קרבן מנחה לד' סלת יהי' קרבנו ויצק עלי' שמן ונתן עלי' לבנה: (“And a soul [nefesh], that it will offer a qorban minha to Ha-Shem; fine flour will be his qorban, and he will pour oil on it, and place frankincense upon it”; II, 1). Here we have a considerably more modest qorban than one composed of any of the preceding animals (even with the “luxurious” flourish of the frankincense).
It would seem just as likely that a nefesh, a “soul” will bring a qorban as an adam, so the alternation of terms comes presumably to teach us something; what might it be?
B.
In our first passage, Rashi comments on the word bëhéma (“beast”) יכול אף חי' בכלל ת"ל "בקר וצאן" (“A wild animal [hayya] could also fit the rule; the teaching is to say, ‘cattle and ovicaprids’”). There are wild animals which are perfectly kosher (such as the deer or gazelle), and if they can be trapped and properly slaughtered, they are completely permissible as food. Yet, no sacrifice is mandated from any of these creatures, only from cattle, sheep and goats.
Rashi does not identify his source in this case, but it is not hard to find a ma’amar Hazal which could inform Rashi’s comment. For instance, there is the following midrash: אמר הקדוש ברוך הוא עשר בהמות טהורות מסרתי לך שלש ברשותך שבע שאין ברשותך כו' שמא הטרחתי עליך שתהא מחזר בהרים ובגבעות שתביא לפני קרבן מאלו שאינן ברשותך? לא אמרתי לך אלא ממה שיש ברשותך מן הגדלים על אבוסיך וגו' (“Said the Holy One, Blessed is He, 'Ten kosher species did I give to you, three under your control and seven which are not under your control.... Did I burden you, that you should roam the mountains and hills in order to bring before Me a qorban of those which are not under your control? I told you only [to bring] from what is under your control, from those being raised at your mangers....”; מדרש תנחומא פר' פנחס סי' י"ב וע"ע תורת כהנים פרשתנו דאמרינן שם כעין זה כדוגמת ענותנותו של הקב"ה).
The principle being enunciated here is stated very explicitly later in the written Torah: כי המצוה הזאת אשר אנכי מצוך היום לא נפלאת היא ממך ולא רחקה היא: לא בשמים היא לאמר מי יעלה לנו השמימה ויקחה וישמיענו אתה ונעשנה: ולא מעבר לים היא לאמר מי יעבר לנו אל עבר הים ותקחה לנו וישמיענו אתה ונעשנה: כי קרוב אליך הדבר מאד בפיך ובלבבך לעשתו: (“For this mitzva which I am commanding you today is not too wonderful for you, and not too far away. It is not in the heavens, to say, 'Who will go up for us to the heavens and take it and make it heard to us and we shall do it.' And it is not across the sea, to say, 'Who will cross for us to the other side of the sea and take it for us and make it heard to us and we shall do it.' For the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to do”; Deuteronomy XXX, 11-14).
The Holy One, Blessed is He, does not demand from us what we cannot give, or even what is exceptionally difficult to give, whether we are talking about qorbanoth or about observing any other mitzvoth in the Torah; indeed the very concept expressed in our passage above, that observing mitzvoth is qarov, “close” to us, is inherent in the word qorban, derived from the same root. The purpose of a qorban is to bring us closer to G-d, and the very word which ere now has been translated “offer,” hiqriv, is a verb in the causative conjugation built on that root, with the sense of “causing closeness,” “bringing one close.” With this sense, then, that the mitzvoth are “close” to us, i.e. within our grasp to perform, and that we should yearn to be closer to the Mëtzavve, the Divine “Commander” of the mitzvoth, we turn to our second passage, that of the qorban minha.
As has already been intimated, the minha, composed primarily of flour and oil, is a much more modest affair than any of the animal qorbanoth discussed earlier. Obviously, only someone quite well off could afford to bring an ox as a voluntary ‘ola, whilst for someone in the middle rankings, a sheep or a goat is not beyond his means. The birds mentioned later are within the means of those with even more slender resources.
But the minha, says the gëmara: אמר הקדוש ברוך הוא מי דרכו להביא מנחה עני מעלה אני עליו כאילו הקריב נפשו לפני (“Said the Holy One, Blessed is He: 'Whose way is to bring a minha? A poor man; I consider it for him as though he has sacrificed himself [nafsho] before Me”: מנחות ק"ד:).' For those whose means can support animal qorbanoth, the humble minha is beneath them; for the poor man, who may have nothing more than a bit of flour and oil, donating a minha represents a real sacrifice, a genuine achievement.
But this implies that a qorban should, in fact, be something of a sacrifice, in the sense that we should be prepared to stretch our resources, what have ready at hand, to achieve it. The poor man does not see himself exempt, unable to offer any sort of qorban; he brings what is within his means to bring, albeit barely.
The question shows up very starkly if we juxtapose another ma’amar Hazal to the midrash cited above, this one again based on a verse incorporating our emphatic little idiom: מניין אשין דברי תורה מתקיימין אלא במי שממית עצמו עלי' שנאמר "זאת התורה אדם כי ימות באהל" (“Whence [do we learn] that words of Torah do not endure save in one who kills himself over it? As it is said: ‘This is the Torah: an adam, that he should die in a tent’ [Numbers XIX, 14; “tent’ here has the connotation of a yëshiva, a place of Torah study; cf. Genesis XXV, 27, Rashi ad loc.]; ברכות מ"ג:).
So what happened to “the matter is very close to you”?
C.
A bit later in our parasha we read: וכל קרבן מנחתך במלח תמלח ולא תשבית מלח ברית אלקיך מעל מנחתך על כל קרבנך תקריב מלח: (“And each qorban minha of yours shall you season with salt; and you will not abate the salt of your G-d’s covenant from upon your minha; upon every qorban of yours shall you offer salt”; II, 13).
Rashi, follows the midrash to write in explanation of this “covenant of your G-d”: שהברית כרותה למלח מששת ימי בראשית שהובטחו המים התחתונים ליקרב במזבח במלח ובניסוך המין בחג (“that the covenant was cut for salt since the six days of Creation, for the lower waters were promised to be offered on the altar through salt and the libation of water on Sukkoth”).
When G-d made the distinction between the “lower” waters of the ocean and the “upper” atmospheric water (Genesis I, 7), the midrash tells us, the lower waters (more properly, the sar or angelic being responsible for them) complained that they would thus be permanently alienated from G-d, more so than the upper waters. The covenant of salt mentioned in our verse was meant to be a consolation to them.
Rabbi Ya‘aqov Kaminetsky זצ"ל notes that several commentators (עיי' למשל שפתי חכמים וגור ארי') ask why this Divine pact was made with salt? Would the consolation not have been clearer if a libation of water with each and every qorban had been decreed?
In answer, he refers to a comment of Rashi on the Talmud (כתובות ע"ט: דה"מ המלח כו') in which he describes the commercial production of salt by evaporating sea water, and then goes on: והיינו שחלקי המים הקלים מתעלין על ידי החמה והנשארים נעשים מלח ובזה הוכיח הש"י דבאמת בוחר הוא בתחתונים שאפילו במים התחתונים עצמם בוחר בחלק התחתון שבהם ודו"ק כי כאן נמצא עיקר גדול בהשקפת ישראל על הרוחניות שאינה דוקא בעלמים העליונים וגו' (“that is, that the the lighter parts of the water [the liquid of the solution liable to evaporation] are elevated by the sun, and what remains becomes salt, and through this Ha-Shem proved that He truly chooses the lower realms, for even in the lower waters themselves he chooses the lowest part of them; study and receive this, for here is found a great principle of Israel’s view of spiritu-ality, that it is not solely in the supernal realms..”; אמת ליעקב עה"פ).
D.
Israel’s purpose in the material realm is to elevate the cosmos in sanctity and spirituality by using it to perform mitzvoth. Torah study, therefore, is vital and is a mitzva in itself, not merely the preparation for a mitzva by learning what to do. As a mitzva, it serves to elevate the nefesh, the vital principle which animates the body in this world.
But the capacity to learn varies with every individual. Some are great geniuses, capable of absorbing immense amounts of material and synthesizing it to find fresh insights, whilst others are simple people for whom each verse in the Torah is a hurdle and major accomplishment.
When the Torah asserts that it is קרוב אליך מאד בפיך ובלבבך, “very close to you in your mouth and in your heart,” the closeness must take into account this difference in capacity. One must dig very deeply and, stretch one’s resources, “killing oneself” over the books (to use the Talmud’s metaphor) to be all that one can be.
G-d does not demand of us what we do not have ready to hand, but He does demand of us what we do have; it is in that way that one can truly be maqriv eth nafsho.
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