Private vows and sacred cows: self expression and individualism in the Torah

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Mattot explores the delicate balance which must be struck between the pursuit of unified halachic practice on the one hand and the recognition of the individual’s need for self-fulfilment and meaning on the other.

Our discussion is built upon the parashah’s detailing of nedarim, personal vows, which provide a person with the means to prohibit what the Torah has permitted. In his Shemonah Perakim, Rambam takes an overwhelmingly negative approach to nedarim and those who utter them, explaining that the Torah’s laws are carefully designed to lead a person to the perfection of his or her character traits. In choosing to take a neder, a person is essentially rejecting the notion that God’s mitzvot provide an adequate means of regulating his life and implying that he knows better than God how to achieve religious perfection. Rambam posits that nedarim should be employed only as a last resort, when there is no other way to control excessive or inappropriate desires.

Rambam’s strong criticism of those who make nedarim is consistent with a statement of the Gemara that one who makes a neder is like one who constructed a bamah [forbidden altar], and one who fulfills it is like one who offered a sacrifice on it [the bamah]. What exactly is behind the Gemara’s cryptic comparison between the taking of a neder and offering a sacrifice outside the Beit Hamikdash? Several similarities become apparent.

First, just like nedarim, bamot are not always prohibited. In the absence of a Beit Hamikdash, an offering on a private altar to God is considered a great mitzvah. Even so, a person who offers such a private offering in an era in which it is prohibited is liable to receive the punishment of karet. Similarly, nedarim are generally viewed as a rejection of the Torah’s formulation for perfection. In a situation in which a person feels he is likely to be overcome by sin, however, the making of a neder is considered a praiseworthy act.

Ran’s commentary to the Gemara hints at a further connection between these two halachot based on the fact that the Beit Hamikdash was built centuries after the Jewish People had conquered and settled the land of Israel. With the construction of the Mikdash, the use of private altars, which had been deeply ingrained into the national psyche as a valid and meritorious method of serving God, became irreversibly prohibited. Perhaps most significantly, these private altars had served for many years as a way for a non-priestly Israelite, to make a personal offering, literally in his own backyard.

Following the ban on bamot, the ordinary Jew was being asked to forgo a treasured act of personal involvement through which he was likely to have felt great spiritual fulfilment. Henceforth it would be the Kohen who performed all of the sacrificial tasks, leaving with the Yisrael a distant and uninvolved spectator. This deep popular connection to private altars – particularly in the context of the ever-present allure of idolatrous shrines – may explain why enforcement of the ban against bamot was so lax in the earlier years of the Judean kingdom. It was only during the later era of Chizkiyah that bamot were uprooted with any degree of success.

In the presence of a fully functional Beit Hamikdash, bamot represented the suggestion that an individual’s feelings of fulfilment could override the national religious interest. Bamot were therefore considered a rejection of God’s instruction for a unified national place of worship. In a similar vein, nedarim also represent a rejection by an individual of the Divine formula which was transmitted to the nation to guide people towards moral and spiritual perfection, with that individual instead attempting to draw close to God on the basis of his or her own subjective ideas.

Both the rejection of nedarim and the prohibition of bamot, however, are ideals for which God has provided exceptions. For someone who feels that there is no other way to restrain his sinful desires, nedarim are endorsed as a method of strengthening self-control. Similarly, the prohibition on bamot, which is a by-product of a strong, centralized Mishkan or Mikdash, only applies when the Jewish nation is relatively settled or has been unified under a king or strong leader. Against this backdrop of unified purpose and worship, the Jewish People can then complete its transition from being a collection of individuals worshipping God to a true nation of God.

First posted to Facebook 15 July 2020, here.

Banishing Bamot: the struggle to outlaw alternative altars

The opening section of yesterday’s Torah reading presents a series of laws regarding the need to centralise Israelite worship at the “place where God will choose for His name to dwell”. The passage envisions that at some future point, the twelve tribes would be united into a kingdom which would collectively focus its worship around a single place.

What this produces is a fascinating and highly unusual example of a biblical law which the Torah itself appears to forecast will change at a future point. The books of the prophets recount, however, that this future change to prohibit private altars (bamot) was one that the nation struggled to obey – even during periods in which it was worshipping God rather than idols. Judaism Reclaimed dedicates a chapter to analysing the unusual nature of this law and why the nation struggled so much to comply with its demands.

As explained in the Mishna, bamot were not always prohibited. In the absence of a Beit Hamikdash or established Mishkan at Shilo, offering a sacrifice to God on a private altar was considered a great mitzvah. Even so, a person who offers such a private offering at the wrong time is liable to receive the severe punishment of karet.

The Ran (Nedarim 22a) explains that the Beit Hamikdash was built a full 400 years after the Jewish people had conquered and settled the land of Israel. With the construction of the Mikdash, the use of private altars, which had been deeply ingrained into the national psyche as a valid and meritorious method of serving God became totally prohibited. In explaining the significance of bamot sacrifices in the national perception, the Radak goes so far as to say that such bamot had become synonymous with the idea of religious expression, and the term ‘bamah’ was thus used to describe even the public altar at Givah (Yechezekel 20:29). Perhaps most significantly, these private altars had served for many years as a way for a ‘Yisrael’, the regular (non-priestly) Israelite Jew, to make a personal offering literally in his own back garden.

Following the ban on bamot, the ordinary Jew was being asked to forgo a treasured act of personal involvement through which he felt great spiritual fulfilment, and to renounce it in favour of the Kohanim. He now had to be satisfied with nothing more intimate than the bringing of his offering to the Beit Hamikdash. Henceforth it was the Kohen who performed all of the avodah, leaving this Yisrael a distant and uninvolved spectator.

As well as the nation’s attachment to private offerings, a further reason as to why bamot prevailed for so long – even during the reigns of reputedly righteous kings – is proposed by Rabbi Yehudah Hechasid. He explains that righteous kings did not remove bamot because the Judean people were influenced by their counterparts from the Israelite kingdom who offered sacrifices throughout the land. Thus even though bamot had only been permitted in Judea for a relatively short time, the enforcement of this prohibition was lax.

Viewed from Rambam’s approach to the phenomenon of korbanot, the Torah’s future restriction of bamot in favour of more detached and limited centralised sacrifices was a manifestation of his overarching explanation that korbanot were primarily a non-ideal form of worship intended to withdraw the Israelites from pagan practice and beliefs. The plan was that, as the nation would become more religiously and theologically mature, korbanot would largely be limited to a more symbolic centralised ritual while everyday connection to God could focus increasingly on prayer and meditation.

If we follow Rambam’s reasoning to its logical conclusion, it may not be surprising that the ban on bamot was so weakly regulated. Even with the Beit Hamikdash built, competition from the surrounding pagan cultures – including, significantly, the Northern Israelite kingdom – meant that it may have been considered a perilous time to remove the private bamot from Judean back-gardens. Rather than guiding them towards a more refined manner of divine worship, restricting korbanot at this time may have reinforced the attraction of pagan competition. It is little wonder therefore that very few of even the righteous kings of Judah were able to uproot the common practice of bamot.

Ultimately, it was only during the era of Chizkiyahu, who reigned after the fall of the idolatrous Israelite kingdom, that the righteous kings of Judah were able to turn their attention to uprooting the practice of bamot from their kingdom.

First posted to Facebook 13 August 2023, here.