When the Temple was destroyed, many rituals and sacrifices ended. The offerings themselves, the blasting of horns, and the sprinkling of blood on the altar, to name a few.
At the same time, we retain them through our prayer services.
The Shacharit morning prayer service replaced the Shacharit morning offering, the Mincha offering with the Mincha service, and so on. While the prayer services are not the same as the offerings they replaced, they serve related purposes and hold a similar place in our routine.
Included in the choreography of the offerings was the ritual of the Levitical priests singing along with the offerings.
Rabbi Meir, in the Talmud, makes a specific claim about the status of song in the Temple:
The Sages taught in a baraita: The song that the Levites sing while a communal offering is being sacrificed is an indispensable component of the offering, which means that if the Levites did not sing, the offering is invalid. This is the statement of Rabbi Meir. And the Rabbis say: It is not indispensable.
In trying to decide what elements are required for an offering to be acceptable, Rabbi Meir, an authoritative voice in early rabbinic circles, argues: the singing at the offering is an essential quality of the offering. The rabbis say otherwise.
How does Rabbi Meir come to this conclusion?
…The Gemara answers: It is as the verse states: “And I have given the Levites, they are given to Aaron and to his sons from among the children of Israel, to do the service of the children of Israel in the Tent of Meeting, and to make atonement for the children of Israel” (Numbers 8:19).
The verse compares the atonement for the Jewish people, which is caused by the sprinkling of the blood of offerings on the altar, to the service of the Levites, which is their singing.
This teaches that just as the atonement caused by the sprinkling of the blood is an indispensable component of the offering, so too the song of the Levites is indispensable.
First, Rabbi Meir isn’t around anymore to argue on his own behalf, so the later rabbis, the Amoraim, argue for him. They say that this verse, from our Torah portion this week, Beha’alotcha, is the proof.
In this verse, it talks about who is responsible, that we’re talking about the offerings, and that the purpose is atonement.
There’s a lot of “reading between the lines here,” but the ultimate argument is: because atonement was enacted by the sprinkling of the blood, which is essential, so too was the singing of the Levites. The requirement for blood sprinkling can be found in a verse in Leviticus.
All of this comes to say: since one part is essential, the other part is essential too.
Unfortunately, the Talmud doesn’t come down on one particular side, and there’s no satisfying ending to this debate. For us, we need to understand the thinking and the logic at play.
Now, there is an unofficial rule in rabbinic thinking: you are allowed to use one verse to mean one thing. This means that if your hevruta, or all of the sages, in this case, disagree with you, they have to have another purpose for your proof text or understand it differently. Otherwise, ostensibly, we’d agree.
This is exactly what happens here:
The Gemara asks: And what do the Rabbis derive from the comparison in this verse?
The Gemara answers: That comparison serves to teach another halakha, which was stated by Rabbi Elazar, as Rabbi Elazar says: Just as the atonement achieved by the sprinkling of the blood must take place during the day, so too the song must be sung during the day.
So what do the rabbis use this verse to prove?
Just as the atonement and sacrifices were offered during the day, so too, any singing that happens has to be done during the day too. In our example before, the Shacharit offering happened during the day, thus, all of the accompanying things that happen, happen at that same time.
At this point, the discussion begins to veer off and ask bigger questions. They do not return to debate if Rabbi Meir or the Sages were correct. Alas, most rabbinic “story” endings are more like Tevye’s unending list of “on the other hand.”
But, for our purposes, that’s perfect. Because this happens soon after:
Rav Mattana said that the source for the requirement to accompany the Temple offerings with song is derived from here: “Because you did not serve the Lord your God with joyfulness, and with goodness of heart” (Deuteronomy 28:47).
What is this service of God that is performed with joyfulness and with goodness of heart? You must say that this is song.
The Gemara objects: But you can say that this service is studying the words of Torah, as it is written: “The precepts of the Lord are upright, rejoicing the heart” (Psalms 19:9).
The Gemara explains: Torah is indeed called a matter that rejoices the heart, but it is not called “goodness.”
Rav Mattana suggests that the source of the Levitical requirement for song at the offering comes from a verse in Deuteronomy that highlights: service, joyfulness, and goodness of heart.
And what is something that is all of this? “You must say that this is song.”
“What about Torah study?” the Gemara asks. Torah is joyful but not called goodness. The Talmud continues:
The Gemara objects: But you can say that the joyful service of bringing the first fruits, as it is written in that context: “And you shall rejoice in all the goodness that the Lord your God has given you” (Deuteronomy 26:11).
The Gemara answers: Bringing the first fruits is indeed called goodness, but it is not called something that involves goodness of heart.
What about bringing the first fruits to the Temple? Nope, goodness, but not goodness of heart.
The rabbis continue to challenge.
The Gemara asks: Is that so? But doesn’t Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥmani say that Rabbi Yonatan said: From where is it derived that songs of praise in the Temple are recited only over the wine libation accompanying the sacrifice? As it is stated: “And the vine replied: Should I leave my wine, which gladdens God and man, and go and wave above the trees” (Judges 9:13).
If it is clear that wine gladdens people, in what way does it gladden God?
Rather, derive from here that songs of praise in the Temple are recited only over the wine of libation, and it is this song that gladdens God. This is difficult, as since there is no wine libation associated with the bringing of first fruits, how can it be accompanied by song?
What about wine? Elsewhere in the Talmud, we learn that rejoicing requires wine and meat! Here we learn that wine, according to the book of Judges, gladdens God and humans.
And then we hear one of the greatest questions I’ve ever read in the Talmud: How does wine gladden God?
The answer: it doesn’t. It is the wine combined with song. It is song that brings joy to God.
So what can we learn from all of this?
Joy and song are inherent to how Judaism exists today.
From the beginning, song and joy were a part of what we did. Today, it is no different.
Many of our rituals refocus us here. Purim is about joy and song. The Passover seder is about joy and song, with a litany of traditional songs at the end of the Haggadah. And freedom, of course. Can’t forget about freedom. Rosh Hashanah is about the joy of a new year, Sukkot is known as zman simchateinu, the time of our joy, and Simchat Torah is the joy of Torah. On all of them we sing Hallel and gather together to sing other songs.
The point is, joy and song are embedded into so much of how Judaism functions.
Offerings and prayer are both called “service” or Avodah. We can learn about each when we compare them.
While the two aren’t exactly the same and function differently, there are lessons we can learn about each from the juxtaposition the rabbis set up.
We should strive to infuse joy into our personal observance of Judaism as a goal.
Prayer isn’t always joyful, and I’m guessing the sacrifices weren’t, either. They can both be hard, emotional, and physical. Taxing even.
But in both cases, we are provided an opportunity for joy. An invitation for joy.
And if we take Rabbi Meir’s position, we can realize that joy and song are indispensable to our practice of Judaism.
Song is an indispensable part of what we do, even if you are not musical.
I love to sing, but I wouldn't say I'm a particularly good singer. But the purpose of adding song to what we do is to add musicality to our practice. We can chant, hum, and recognize the rhythm when we recite the words.
When we define it this way, we all can participate.
What’s new?
I’m looking for a new home for my “Talmud from the weekly Torah Portion” class, called Talmudic Threads. If your congregation is looking for a teaching series or scholar-in-residence, let’s be in touch!