The Episode of the Blasphemer

 

                              

In Parashat Emor Vayikra (Leviticus), 21:1-24:23, we are told about a son of an “Yisraelite woman” and “Egyptian man” who quarrelled with an Yisraelite man (24:10). Torah continues and shares with us that “The son of the Yisraelite woman pronounced the name of G-d, cursing Him... His mother’s name was Shelomit bat Divri of the tribe of Dan” (24:11-12).

The sinner is detained and upon G-d’s directive, he is put to death by stoning

Following the event, G-d speaks to Moshe and orders him, “You must speak to Bnei Yisrael, saying: ‘Any man who curses his G-d must bear his sin. One who pronounces the proper name of G-d while cursing it must be put to death. The entire community will stone him to death. Whether he is a convert or a native Yisraelite, if he pronounces the Divine Name as part of his curse, he must be put to death” (24:15-16).

Who is this “blasphemer” whose name is not mentioned other than his being the son of an “Yisraelite woman and the son of an Egyptian man?” What was the dispute about? Why did he curse G-d?

This story, as it seems, is one case where Jewish sages diverged on how “dramatically” they read the account.

Rash”i, for instance, brings a Midrashic explanation with a few key ideas. He draws his interpretation from Midrash Tanchuma and Vayikra Rabbah. Using these sources, Rash”i focuses on why the Torah emphasizes the man’s mixed parentage. Midrash Vayikra Rabbah (32:3), offers that the “Egyptian father” is the same Egyptian who was killed by Moshe in Shemot (Exodus) 2:12, after the latter witnessed him beating a Hebrew man. According to Midrash Tanchuma (Emor 24), that Egyptian disguised himself as Datan, the husband of Shelomit bat Divri, entered her room when Datan was absent and assaulted her. The child born from that union is the blasphemer in our Parashah.

Rash”i further explains that this man tried to “pitch his tent” among the tribe of Dan, his mother’s tribe. Unfortunately for him, tribal identity followed the father’s line. The court, therefore, ruled against him. Out of frustration, anger and humiliation, Rash”i asserts, he escalated from a personal dispute to blasphemy.

Unlike Rash”i, Ramba”n and Ibn Ezra do not lean on the Midrashic approach. Rather, they read the story in a straightforward manner. For them the key issue is legal identity and do not see any need for a backstory drama or link the event to a morally tainted origin story that happened in Egypt. Like Rash”i, they believe that the blasphemy is the result of social dislocation and legal rejection.

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks reads the episode quite differently from the classical commentators mentioned above. Though like Rash”i and Ramba”n, Sacks notes that the Torah’s detailing of the man’s parentage is unusual. Unlike Rashi, he doesn’t focus on who his father was and unlike Ramba”n, he doesn’t center on the legal technicality of tribal placement. Rather, Sacks dwells on what the story says about identity, belonging and speech. For Sacks, the episode reflects human and social tension.

Rabbi Sacks takes it further, psychologically. In his view, the sinner lived with a fractured and unresolved identity, torn between two worlds. On the one hand, he was inside the camp yet not fully accepted. In a way, Sacks uses the Midrashic backstory to frame a modern psychological and social lesson about the dangers of exclusion and humiliation and how the anger and frustration they create can lead to desecration of the most sacred, in this case, the Divine Name.

Sacks believes that “One law shall be for you, for the stranger as for the native” (24:22) tells us about the kind of society the Torah is trying to build. He points to this verse, as the Torah’s own concluding lesson on the event, one that demands equal justice even for those whose origins make them social outcasts.

Sin and Sin-Offering - The Duality of "Chatat"

 

"God created the possibility of repentance before He created the human capacity to sin." – Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks

 

Parashat Vayikra (Leviticus 1:1–5:26) introduces the sacrificial system known as korbanot, which means "bringing close." The Parashah lays the foundation for how humans relate to G-d through ritual, responsibility, and moral awareness.

The chatat (sin-offering) in Parashat Vayikra is one of the most conceptually rich korbanot because it deals not with deliberate rebellion, but with the quieter, more complex realm of unintentional wrongdoing.

Chatat first appears in Bresheet (Genesis 4:7). There, G-d says to Cain "lapetach chatat rovetz - sin crouches at the door; its desire is toward you, but you can rule over it."

In his most striking commentary on this verse, Rash”i explains that chatat has a dual meaning which can be understood in two interconnected ways. One is sin. The other, sin-offering.

On the simple level (peshat), chatat, in this verse means, "sin." Its portrayal, in a personified manner, suggests the image of a lurking, predatory animal, ready to pounce. It is an active, persistent force, always nearby, lying in wait, which, according to our sages reflects the human evil inclination.

Drawing on Beresheet Rabbah (22:6), Rash”i offers another, deeper, midrashic tier to the term. There, the sages interpret the words "at the door" as a sin-offering that is waiting at the threshold. In other words, G-d is telling Cain that even if he sins, he is not doomed, as an offering, an atonement is already available, accessible and is ever present. The threat of sin and the possibility of repair exist side by side.

While not directly commenting on this verse, the Talmud (tractate Yoma 86b) resonates a similar theological principle that Rash”i conjures which is, also, succinctly articulated in Rabbi Sacks’s words above, atonement is built into the structure of creation.

Rash”i’s reading of Beresheet becomes clearer when we reach the chatat offering in Parashat Vayikra. The “crouching sin,” especially the unintentional one, is defined as wrongdoing. The "chatat at the door" in Beresheet is transformed, here, into an actual sacrifice, giving humanity a structured and practical system of repair, thus enabling it to live with imperfection and still thrive.

In Beresheet, G-d says to Cain, "you can rule over it." Unfortunately for Cain, even though, as both Rash”i and Sacks assert, atonement is already in place, there is no structured path leading to it. In Cain’s world, human vulnerability and moral struggle exist, but the mechanisms of atonement are still undeveloped.  

Vayikra, as we can see, forges, for the first time, the "ruling over sin" into a concrete form. It transforms the chatat of Beresheet into a pathway for accountability, and a renewed closeness to G-d, via three stages. The first is recognition of the wrongdoing, the second is bringing chatat (sin-offering) and the final one is engaging in confession and atonement. Whereas in Beresheet, chatat is "lurking" and threatening, in Vayikra, it is institutionalized as a ritual of repair.

There remains, however, one key tension, was Cain’s sin eligible for what Vayikra defines as chatat?

In Vayikra, a chatat is brought for unintentional sin. Since Cain’s act of murder was intentional and premeditated, as Beresheet (4:8) suggests, then even within the later system, his sin would not qualify for a standard chatat. Rash”i, naturally, grapples with this dilemma. According to his framework, the answer is in a twofold message to Cain. The first which suggests that one can master his sin and hints that the path of repair is already available, is delivered to him before the act (4:7). The second focuses on what happens after the act where there is absence of repent when the Torah clearly shows that Cain is speaking to G-d (4:9) but fails to fully repent when no clear confession or transformation is evident.

Whatever interpretation one wishes to accept, one message is clear, the concept of chatat draws a poetic arc across the Torah, one that connects what is hinted in Beresheet and what becomes institutionalized in last week’s Parashah fusing the two into a beautiful symmetry. The Torah transforms sin from something that ambushes a person into something that can be confronted, processed, and corrected.

From Promise to Possession, The Birth of Jewish Title to Eretz Yisrael

 

Let him grant me the Cave of Machpelah, which belongs to him and is located at the edge of his field. Let him sell it to me for its full price, in your presence, so I can make it into a family burial ground.” - Bresheet 23:9

At the onset of this week’s Parashah, “Chayei Sarah,” (the life of Sarah), we are told about the death of Sarah, Avraham’s wife, in Hevron. Pursuent to her passing, Avraham purchases the Cave of Machpelah and the surrounding field in Hevron, from its owner, Ephron, the Hittite and buries her there.

One of the questions that is begging to be asked, upon reading these verses, is, if G-d has already promised the Land of Yisrael to Avraham and his descendents (“To your offspring I will give this land,” Bresheet 12:7), why must Avraham purchase a burial site, at Machpelah, for Sarah?

G-d’s promise to Avraham and his posterity gives the land spiritual legitimacy. Avraham’s purchase gives it political legitimacy. In order to establish sovereignty. Both are needed. The Divine Covenant establishes eternal rights. Avraham’s actions and deeds establish worldly recognition. Divine promises do not replace human action.

Furthermore, Avraham insists upon paying “full price” for the land, as the verse above points out, despite the offer to accept it as a gift. He wants an indisputable legal claim to ensure that no one could later challenge Jewish presence as illegitimate or dependent on any foreign entities. He knows that a Divine promise carries spiritual authority, but not necessarily a recognition in the human legal system. He understands that sovereignty is established through moral and lawful means. By paying “full price,” Avraham secures a deed that no one can contest. The negotiations with Ephron become the first legal translation of Jewish lawful ownership setting a precedent for the Jewish People’s historic and moral claim in the Promised Land.

Avraham’s insistence on  paying full price, refusing a gift, parallels other, later, key biblical passages. In 2 Samuel 24:24, king David explicitly purchases land with money, land that is connected to the legitimate ownership and future sanctity of the site he was about to procure. There, he says to Araunah, the Jebosite who offers it to him for free, " 'No, I will buy it from you for a price;I will not offer burnt offerings to the Lord my G-d that cost me nothing. So David bought the threshing floor and the Oxen for fifty shekels of silver.”  This site, as we later find out, becomes the future Temple Mount in Yerushalayim, “Then David said,’Here shall be the house of the Lord G-d and here the altar of burnt offering for Yisrael.’” 1Chronicles 22:1. Both these pieces of land, Sarah's burial sites and the Temple Mount were legally purchased for eternal possession, thus fulfilling the Divine promise to Avraham and his descendents. 

One of the most striking and meaningful features of Parashat Chayei Sarah, (the Life of Sarah), is its paradoxical title which opens with Sarah’s death yet gives us no further details about her life. What, on the surface, seems like a contradiction preoccupied our sages. Many of them, however, view it not as a contradiction but rather as a deep truth about life's legacy and continuity.

Midrash Rabbah expands on this idea. “Why is it written, ‘After the life of Sarah?’ To teach us that the righteous are called alive even after death.” (Bresheet Rabbah 58:1). Sarah’s legacy and her spiritual influence continue beyond her physical existence. 

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch reads the name Chayei Sarah as a theological statement. The life of Sarah, he believes, is the life that Sarah set in motion. Her death sets off Avraham’s first act of acquiring land in Canaan. Until that point Avraham is a resident alien, a ger vetoshav toshav, promised the land by G-d but not yet owning even a small piece of it. Sarah’s death gives birth to the first foothold of the Jewish nation in its promised land. Her burial place becomes a national symbol and a spiritual anchor linking future generations to the patriarchs and matriarchs buried there.

Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks builds on the same concept. In his essay Chayei Sarah (Covenant and Conversation) Sacks offers a beautiful and deeply philosophical insight into the paradoxical title of Parashat Chayei Sarah. His assertion is that in order to understand a death, one has to understand a life.  In the Torah, believes Sacks, life and death are not opposites. Those who live a life of faith, whose values and influence last beyond their days, never die. Sarah’s life, as Sacks sees it, continues through the continuity of the Covenant. Her legacy gives life to the Jewish People.

To praphrase the interpretations of our sage, Sarah’s death forces the promise of DivineInheritance, the guiding principle that dictated the journey of her life, to translate into human and legal reality.

Her death, in this sense, becomes the womb of Jewish rootedness, out of which arises Jewish life and permanence.

The Rainbow in the Clouds

 

“My rainbow I have placed in the cloud, and it shall be for a sign of a covenant between Myself and the earth.”  - Genesis 9:13

“The rainbow is the symbol of a world safe for diversity - many colours, one light.” - Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks.

This week’s Parasha, “Noach,” focuses on The Flood which G-d brings upon humanity for its pernicious conduct, His decision to salvage Noach drives Him to enter a covenant with him and all living creatures culminating with the promise to never again destroy the world by water. This act, suggests Lord Rabbi Sacks, is when “morality was born.”

The sign of the Noachide Covenant, as the verse above mentions, is the “Rainbow in the Cloud." 

The rainbow, as many of us know, is not the result of any wonderous miracle but rather a natural phenomenon with a simple scientific explanation. Science tells us that a rainbow is the result of the burst of the sun rays against the raindrops.                                             

However, in this Parashah, the choice of the image of the rainbow carries a deep symbolic moral and theological meaning and has been the topic of interpretation by many of our Jewish sages.

Rash”i, for instance, explains that the rainbow is a reminder of Divine Mercy. Whenever the world’s sins might justify destruction, G-d “sees the bow” and remembers His promise not to destroy humanity.

Ramba”n (Nachmanides) notes that the bow, symbolizing G-d’s weapon, points upward, curving away from the earth.

Midrash Rabba (Beresheet Rabbah 35:3), likewise, interprets the rainbow as a bow of Peace. Just as the warrior hangs up his weapon, G-d has “hung” His bow in the sky.” It serves as a gesture of reconciliation.

The Talmud, in Chagigah 16a, proposes that seeing the rainbow is a serious spiritual moment where one is expected to recite the following blessing, “Blessed are You, Lord our G-d, King of the universe who remembers the covenant, and is faithful to His covenant, and keeps His promise.”

The covenant of the rainbow, as mentioned above, is not limited to the Jewish People but extends to “every living creature.” Its universality is what prompts Lord Rabbi Sacks to focus his beautiful interpretation on the symbolism embedded in the rainbow's many colours. 

For Sacks, the rainbow's spectrum of colours symbolizes unity in diversity. Each colour, he notes, is distinct, yet together, they form one congenial whole. Just as the colours remain distinct yet form one harmonious arc, humanity too is meant to preserve difference within unity.

May the light of the Noachide rainbow, the sign of the covenant that celebrates moral responsibility and human diversity continue to shine upon us and be a constant reminder that even after the storm and after judgement, there is Hope, Renewal and a prospect for Peace.

Shabbat Shalom, fellow Jews and every blessing to all