Moshe Rabbeinu interacts with God three times in Parshah Beha’alotecha. First, he poses a legal question (chap 9) to God; in the second instance, he prays to Hashem on behalf of the Israelites (11:2) to end a wildfire, and in the third instance, he laments his lot as appointed leader of such an unruly people and notes his preference for death over the current situation (11:11-15). The correspondence that seems most incongruent with Moshe’s character, to me, is the first. Does Moshe need to pose legal questions to God? Rabbinic tradition records that during the mourning week for Moshe 3000 halachot were forgotten (BT Temurah 16a). The significance of this dictum lies in the assumption that the Torah and its laws were perfectly known during Moshe’s lifetime and lacunas of Jewish law only took place after his demise. Indeed, usually we perceive the burden that Moshe carried as an issue of quantity. Indeed, in Parshah Yisro, his father-in-law’s advice was to establish courts to assist Moshe in the volume of cases (Shemos, chap 18). Yet Moshe never needed assistance in actually ruling on matters: not from other leaders and not from God. So why couldn’t Moshe easily dispose of this halachic question? Moreover, even if one wants to posit that Moshe did not yet know the answer to certain questions – such as, when Moshe asks God for the mekoshesh’s (collecting sticks on Shabbat) sentence – the question of an impure group bringing a sacrifice is one of the most-clear laws in Judaism, with hundreds of verses noting the impermissibility of it. Thus, the nature of this impure group’s question must be investigated, to unearth the intricacies of Moshe’s unique response.
At the beginning of Chapter 9, a small group of Israelites pose a legal question to Moshe over whether they can partake of the paschal offering on the 14th of Nissan along with the rest of the Israelites, even though the group was impure. The Torah (9:6) states:
(6) But some of them (the impure people) could not celebrate the Passover on that day (14th of Nissan) because they were impure on account of a dead body. So they came to Moshe and Aharon that same day (7) and said to Moshe, “We have become impure because of a dead body, but why should we be kept from presenting God’s offering with the other Israelites at the appointed time?”
At first glance, it appears that the cabal answered their own question: Why should they be excluded from offering the paschal lamb with the rest of the Israelites on the 14th? Because they were impure. There is really no reason to think that the paschal offering should be the one exception to the sacrificial cult that permits impure participants. Clearly, the small group knew the law well enough to seek out an exception the explicit law. Indeed, the Mishnah (Chagigah 1:6) teaches that if a festival passes without the pilgrim offering the karban chagigah, the obligation to make that offering falls away. The Mishnah cites Kohelet (1:5): “A twisted thing cannot be made straight…” meaning that if you missed an opportunity to carry out a mitzvah, the opportunity is lost. The Mishnah does not condemn the failure to offer the sacrifice (even though that is obviously a problem too), but rather simply notes there is no way to fix the issue. The moment has passed. One would think this teaching – that sometimes one misses the chance to carry out a mitzvah and there is no way to fix that – would be a lesson that should apply to people that happen to be tamei met. After all, no one would consider seeking an exception, and try to being a karban re-iyah or karban chagigah during Sukkot if he accidentally became tamei. Reather, the person would obviously just accept his lot, and commit to bringing those karbanot at some future opportunity. So why would the small group think that they are exceptional?
The Sages and the Sifrei both provide extra-biblical information that strengthens the plausibility of the small group’s request. The Sages – who never miss a chance to identify an anonymous person or group in the Torah – suggest multiple possibilities for the identity of a group that could have been tamei met during the period of Sinaitic desert encampments, ranging from an Israelite party charged with transporting Yoseif HaTzadik’s bones, to Nadav and Avihu’s pallbearers, to a group that interred a meit mitzvah. Indeed, the example of someone missing the opportunity to partake of a paschal lamb because of a meit mitzvah is literally the example proffered by the Sifrei (piska26) noting that even a Kohen Gadol on the way to sacrifice the Karban Pesach should impurify himself while tending to the needs of the nameless corpse. What all three of the aforementioned possibilities have in common is that they are laudable, exemplary deeds, involving doing a chesed shel emet, an altruistic act for a corpse. And we can note that the case could have been that the inquirers were all murders and that is why they are tamei met, but Chazal only chose meritorious scenarios for how they became impure. Obviously, Chazal want us to think positively of the questioners.
Second, the Sifrei (piska 65) cited by Rashi, also strengthens their question, as the Karban Pesach is exceptional in that if 51% of the Jewish people are impure, the karban still may be offered, eaten, etc. by the impure nation. So, one could argue that the small group did not in fact know the answer to the question, and asked not for an exception, but rather in order to learn if their case with in fact exceptional, if there was a second case when someone can be impure and still partake of the paschal lamb.
When we look more closely at the Torah’s description of the narrative, a specific theme emerges which is likely to be the primary issue at hand. The Torah stresses, thrice in two verses in fact, that the cabal were posing this question to Moshe on the 14th of Nissan itself, on the Biblical day of Pesach. Twice in verse 6 it is noted that their question was ‘ba-yom hahu’ (on that day), and in the subsequent verse, they question why the offering cannot ’be-mo’ado’ (in its correct time). Why are these such key factors? Had the Torah not included these three temporal markers, we would surely have assumed the questions were taking place in an expedient fashion nonetheless.
When introducing the concept of Pesach Sheini, the Torah does not offer the possibility of simply delaying offering the sacrifice for one week, the duration of impurity from tamei met. The Torah also rejects the possibility of simply offering the compensatory pascal offering at the pilgrim’s convenience. We may wonder: Why wait a whole month for the compensatory offering, and why even set a specific day in the first place? Indeed, if the offering was offered seven days later, it would still be during the Festival of Matzot. It would still be a time when a pilgrim can legally offer a karban chagigah for Pesach. It is still Passover. But for some reason a specific date, one month later was chosen for Pesach Sheini. In the end, the only residue of Passover during Pesach Sheini revolves around Pesach, Matzah, and maror, namely the offering, but that is about it. The rest of the holiday festivities are omitted. For example, Chazal never considered instituting a seder on the 14th of Iyyar, or mandating a karban chagigah, or decreeing a chametz-purge from one’s abode.
In order to answer these questions and observations, let us recall that Chazal want us to know, and that it is integral to the understanding the story to know, that there was good reason for the group’s impurity: the cabal was either literally carrying out a mitzvah that takes precedence over commandments (meit mitzvah), or taking on a leadership role to support the people. Some leaders peskily assert that if they take upon themselves the mantle of communal responsibility or are doing something meritorious, then they should be allotted special consideration, and they should be able to avert any negative consequences from their original exemplary example. They reason that they should have their cake and eat it too. But that is just not how the world works. One may feel punished for a sin, but also can feel negative consequences from a praiseworthy deed as well. True martyrs and leaders understand the fact that because you sacrificed your time or effort, there are other sacrifices that are the natural consequence of that first sacrifice. A community leader may not be able to spend as much time with his/her family as wanted. Someone who helps someone at the side of the road actually also endangers himself. Etc. However, this might be the opposite of how some religious people understand how reward and punishment works. One might expect good consequences, or at least no bad consequences, when one acts on behalf of the community or sacrifices. And, this is exactly what the cabal expected. They felt that an exception must be made for them to offer the paschal lamb with the rest of the Israelites. However, the Torah wants us to understand that this is not how the world works. That is why Pesach Sheini was created. It was a punishment (or at least the consequence) for the belief that one can be impure and seek permission for a special allowance. This is a form of ‘supportive discipline,’ namely, a measure taken to assist students with self-control by helping them get back on task, and to reflect upon a situation.
What did the small group want? They wanted to celebrate Pesach with their co-religionists, and not be excluded, unfairly in their eyes. They sought out Moshe and Aharon, and wanted the answer on the spot ‘ba-yom hahu.’ Moshe couldn’t answer on the spot because it was not a question, but a request for an exception to the rules of tum’ah. In theory, there was a possibility an exception could be made, so Moshe posed the question to Hashem. The response is negative. Moshe informs them that they have to return to Jerusalem (or in this case the mishkan) one month later, at an apparently random date, which is inconvenient for them, less than three weeks before the next pilgrimage festival (Shavuos), with no fanfare, on a day when the Kohanim would simply have brought the regular karban tamids, when there are no other ostensible signs of Pesach, save the ones that they bring. What is special about Pesach sheini is that it is not special; it is not holy; work is not forbidden; Pesach Sheini’s lack of fanfare undermines the feeling that the cabal is trying to feel. They want to be part of the crowd on the 14th, and that is exactly the problem. That is why Pesach Sheini cannot be on the last day of Pesach when people are still celebrating Pesach, and could not be at a self-chosen day when the small group could impact the ambiance of the mishkan to meet their psychological need to feel part and parcel of the mob mentality.
In a parshah of eccentric punishment (a fire on the outskirts, superabundant quail, and a new holiday), this latter type of punishment may not be the most exotic, but clearly fits into the parshah’s genre of tit-for-tat punishments meant to teach the Israelites a lesson. Indeed, the idea of punishment when no sin officially took place, but because of an underlying psychological flaw is rampant in the Torah.
Just as quail is meant to teach a lesson about complaints and appreciation, so too Pesach Sheini teaches us about the sacrifice that comes with leadership and responsibility. Despite their request to celebrate together with the nation, the makeup opportunity was not exactly what they hoped for. From a halachic perspective, Pesach Sheni is the only holiday that is really not a communal holiday; tachanun is stated on Pesach Sheini, and, indeed, it is a misnomer to even call it a holiday, as it is not a holy day. It is an individual’s holiday, because the message of Pesach Sheini is that you cannot always be part of the community the way you would like to, when you take on the mantle of leadership. Ironically, Pesach Sheini, the holiday that is celebrated as a time of second chances by Hasidim, might exists specifically to teach us that second chances are never really a fix for the real opportunity. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.
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