Nechemia - Chapter 8 The Teshuva Revolution - R. Tzvi Sinensky

RTS: Summary
Having completed the resettlement of the population, Nechemia turns to matters of spirituality.
Between Sefer Ezra and Sefer Nechemia
Before jumping into the ceremony proper, a few introductory comments to our chapter are in order. Ezra chapter 2 and Nechemia chapter 7 both recount Ezra’s census of the original olim. Confusingly, both chapters close by describing the Jews as having resettled in their ancestral homes by the beginning of the seventh month. With that introduction, the third chapter of Sefer Ezra describes the rebuilding of the altar, whereas our chapter recounts the Torah reading ceremony. Is it possible that both generations, those who had arrived with Zerubavel and those who came with Nechemia, had both coincidentally settled in their homes at the beginning of Tishrei?
Pointing to this apparent contradiction, and also noting that our chapter is the only context in which Ezra and Nechemia operate side-by-side, some scholars suggest that the narrative in Nechemia is a later addition to our book. We will argue, however, that this “emendation” is unnecessary.
Malbim (7:73 [Note - our numbering is different than Malbim's], s.v. Va-yeshvu) summarizes two alternative explanations. First, he proposes that in fact Ezra came twice to Israel, once in the time of Zerubavel and again under the leadership of Nechemia. Both events took place precisely as described, both under the leadership of Ezra.
This explanation is quite difficult, as Malbim himself notes. First, given that there is no hard evidence that Ezra came twice to Israel, such a hypothesis seems unlikely. Second, although the thesis might be more credible according to the rabbinic chronology, it seems extremely far-fetched from the perspective of the conventional chronology, as the two stories took place some sixty years apart.
Malbim’s preferred approach is more convincing. There were indeed significant similarities between the two events. In both the time of Zerubavel/Yeshua and Ezra/Nechemia, the Jews had achieved a sense of physical stability around the time of Rosh Hashana. In seeking to highlight these parallels and having just completed his account of his usage of the census documentation, Nechemia underscores this similarity by using similar language to Ezra in describing the background to the Torah reading ceremony.
This reading dovetails beautifully with an observation we made as we concluded our study of Sefer Ezra’s first six chapters: the events of Shivat Tzion are cyclical. Although three different sets of events are recorded in our sefer, each mirrors the others. The similarity dramatizes the striking parallel between the events of the early chapters of Ezra, in which the Jews are restored to their homes and engage in a religious revival by rebuilding the altar, and Nechemia’s repopulation and inspiring Torah reading. The details differ and some sixty years separate the two events, but the fundamental challenges of Shivat Tzion remain the same.
Ezra and Nechemia Together
As noted, our chapter is the only one in which Ezra and Nechemia appear together, leading some scholars to speculate that the event is ahistorical. This argument is unconvincing. It is evident throughout Ezra-Nechemia that whereas Ezra was highly esteemed as a scholar and role model, his political acumen was no match for that of Nechemia. Throughout the events of Nechemia, which until this point had emphasized matters of security, Ezra stood outside the limelight. Now that things have settled down considerably and Nechemia is finally ready to turn to religious matters, Ezra once again steps forward and plays a prominent role alongside his colleague.
Ezra’s influence is felt throughout the chapter, especially in its emphasis on learning. The root bina, intellectual study, appears six times in our chapter (8:2,3,7,8,9,12). It is almost as if Ezra’s entire raison d’etre for having traveled to Judea has finally been achieved.

Hakhel
As we make our way through the ceremony, it becomes increasingly clear that Ezra’s ritual is intended to recreate the Hakhel ceremony: a Jewish leader reads from the Torah before the nation during the month of Tishrei; as the Torah requires, men, women, and children be present; Ezra reads the Torah “in the ears” of the people (8:3), in the same way that the Torah was to be read “before all the Jews in their ears” during Hakhel (Devarim 31:11).
Building on these comparisons, the Rabbis appear to have drawn a number of laws governing Hakhel from our story. The mishna (Sota 7:8) records that during the Hakhel ceremony, the king read the Torah from a wooden platform. This appears to be derived from Ezra, who is described as having read from a “wooden tower.” The Rabbis also link the location of Hakhel with our ritual. While we are told that the ceremony took place in the street adjoining the Water Gate, the precise location of the street is not entirely clear. Perhaps picking up in this ambiguity, there is a dispute among the Tanna’im (Yoma 69b, Sota 40b) as to whether Hakhel must be performed on the Temple Mount or in the Women’s Courtyard. The argument centers on the proper reading of the verses in our chapter in Nechemia. Both views among the Tanna’im apparently maintain that the laws of Hakhel may be deduced from Ezra’s ceremony; they only dispute the particulars of the derivation.
What is the significance of Ezra’s decision to model his ceremony after Hakhel? An additional insight into Hakhel sheds light on this question. There is a substantial body of evidence indicating that Hakhel is a septennial recreation of the Revelation at Sinai. All the Jews must be present, whether or not they understand the exact words being spoken. The ceremony is led by a prominent national leader, and the Torah is read in a powerful, inspiring fashion.
As Rambam puts it:
And converts who do not recognize that they are obligated to direct their hearts and to attune their ears to hear with fear and reverence and joy trembling like the day on which [Torah] was given at Sinai. Even great sages who know the Torah completely are obligated to listen with exceptionally great concentration. And one who is unable to listen should direct his heart to the reading, that Scripture is established to strengthen true faith. And he should see himself as if now he is commanded and from God he heard it, that the king is an agent to cause the words of God to be heard. (Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Chagiga 3:6)
It is on the basis of the comparison between our chapter and the Sinaitic Revelation that the Rabbis drew extensive comparisons between Ezra and Moshe Rabbeinu, assigning Ezra an equal role in the transmission of the tradition. The gemara (Sanhedrin 21b) teaches that the Torah was originally given in Ketav Ivri (an ancient script) and Hebrew, and subsequently given again during Ezra’s generation in Ketav Ashuri (another script) and in Aramaic. The same passage goes on to assert that had Moshe not preceded him, Ezra would have been fit to give the Torah to the Jewish People. Elsewhere, the Talmud (Sukka 20a) credits Ezra, Hillel, and R. Chiya for ensuring that the Torah was not forgotten. Arukh La-Ner (s.v. chazra) explains that Ezra ensured that the written Torah (the Torah of Moshe) would be preserved.
Drawing on our chapter in particular, the gemara in Bava Kama (82a) credits the institution of Torah reading to edicts of Moshe and Ezra.
The gemara in Menachot (45a) comments that inaugural sacrifices were offered during Ezra’s generation, just as they were in the days of Moshe. All these comparisons are grounded in our chapter’s implicit identification of Ezra as reenacting the theophany at Sinai through a celebration of Hakhel.
By comparing our story to Hakhel and, by extension, to Matan Torah, our chapter suggests that we should view the Torah reading ceremony as a transformative event of Shivat Tzion, and even Jewish history. Indeed, the historical context bears this out. It is evident that there was mass ignorance on the part of the remnant in Judea. As we will see in the remainder of our chapter, basic laws concerning the construction of sukkot were entirely unfamiliar to the people. It would appear from the need for translators that the people did not understand Hebrew (hence the Talmud’s assertion that Moshe gave the Torah in Hebrew and Ezra in Aramaic). Had Ezra not ascended from Babylonia, it is not at all self-evident that the Judean community would have ever learned the basics and recommitted themselves to a Torah-based lifestyle. The comparison to Sinai is thus certainly not an exaggeration.
The Ethiopian Jewish holiday Sigd, celebrated on 29 Cheshvan each year and adopted by the Knesset as a national Israeli holiday in 2008, is further evidence of the nexus of the events in Nechemia and the Revelation at Sinai. Most likely rooted in 15^th century deliverance from Christian oppressors, Sigd is taken from the Aramaic root meaning to prostrate oneself. On the holiday, celebrated 50 days after Yom Kippur, Ethiopians fast, prostrate on the floor as in Nechemia, and read sections from the Torah, including the revelation at Sinai and Nechemia’s Torah reading. In Ethiopia, it was traditional for the event to take place on a tall mountain and for community elders to fence off sections of the mountain. It is, in other words, a reenactment of the events of both Biblical events.
More broadly, our chapter serves as a model for the critical importance of Torah observance to Jewish survival, whether in Israel or the Diaspora. Moreover, the fact that the chapter opens with the people’s request to study the Torah demonstrates the critical partnership between the religious leadership and lay community in the successful dissemination of Torah. Only when the community desires to study and the religious leader is embedded within in the community can the Torah be successfully transmitted to the next generation.

Having been inspired by the Torah reading ceremony and crushed by their ignorance and sinfulness, the people beg to be permitted to fast [NOTE - Where?] . Nechemia, Ezra, and the Levites tell the people not to fast, but rather to rejoice. They encourage the people to “eat choice foods, drink sweet drinks, and send portions to whomever has nothing prepared, for the day is holy to our Lord. Do not be sad, for your rejoicing in the Lord is the source of your strength” (Nechemia 8:9). The masses act accordingly.
The next day, the second of Tishrei, the community once again gathers to hear the Torah. They learn that “the Lord had commanded Moshe that the Israelites must dwell in booths during the festival of the seventh month” (8:14). They go to the mountain and collect branches of olive trees, pine trees, myrtles, and palms to construct sukkot. The people construct sukkot throughout the city: on rooftops, in courtyards, in the Temple courtyards, and in the streets adjoining the Water Gate and Ephraim Gate. The text recounts that the celebration was greater than any since the time of Yehoshua bin Nun. The people read the Torah throughout the holiday of Sukkot, celebrating each day as is prescribed.
Celebrating Rosh Hashanah
Perhaps more than in any other context in Ezra-Nechemia, the halakhic practices described in our chapter seem to depart from those with which we are familiar not only from contemporary practice, but even the Torah itself. The celebration of Rosh Hashana is puzzling in numerous respects. There is no mention of the shofar or any other ritual practice with which we generally associate the “Jewish New Year.” Our chapter similarly omits any mention of Yom Kippur, as well as numerous central observances of sukkot, including any explicit mention of waving the four species. It is also unclear what we are to make of the Jews’ desire to fast and the leadership’s firm opposition. Was there a common custom to fast on Rosh Hashana? And are we to infer from the answer that fasting is prohibited on Rosh Hashana? In general, the emphasis on joy seems to depart from the somber tone that we generally associate with the day of judgment.
Furthermore, as part of the required celebration for Rosh Hashana, the people are instructed to send portions to those who do not have food. The language closely resembles that used in Megillat Esther to describe mishloach manot (Esther 9:19, 22). What is going on here? Have Ezra and Nechemia confused Rosh Hashana for Purim?
Regarding the omission of other practices of Rosh Hashana and Sukkot, in addition to the entirety of Yom Kippur, some scholars maintain that these holidays were not observed in the same way with which we are familiar, and that the text of Torah read by Ezra differed considerably from our own.
This conclusion, however, is unwarranted. Our chapter does not focus on the classic practices of each holiday, but only on the unique ways in which each was observed in our narrative. The emphasis on the Rosh Hashana celebration is on the question of fasting versus celebration, and Sukkot focuses on the reinvigoration of the mitzva of sukka. Moreover, consistent with the transition we have detailed from a Temple-based Judaism to a Torah-centered lifestyle, even as the people find themselves celebrating Sukkot in the Temple courtyard, the emphasis in our chapter is decidedly not on the Temple service. Many, if not all, of the practices omitted in our chapter bear significant connections to the Temple service, including shofar on Rosh Hashana (in particular when Rosh Hashana falls on Shabbat), the service of Yom Kippur, and the four species on Sukkot. Ezra’s revolution, which seeks to reimagine Jewish life in the aftermath of the destruction of the First Commonwealth, envisions an observance of the holidays that does not revolve around the sacrificial service.
How are we to understand the exchange regarding mourning versus celebrating? Some have suggested that the masses’ instinct to mourn was rooted in an earlier tradition that viewed Rosh Hashana as a somber day. Others have proposed similarly that Rosh Hashana had been designated as a day of mourning ever since the assassination of Gedalia, governor of Judea in the aftermath of the churban, which according to many took place on Rosh Hashana (see Yirmiyahu 41:1 and Radak ad loc., s.v. va-yehi). These suggestions, however, do not accord with the simple reading of our chapter, in which the people’s desire to mourn seems to be rooted in a spontaneous reaction to their devastating consciousness of ignorance.
It is interesting to observe in this connection that the exchange between the people and leaders spawned a substantial halakhic literature regarding the question of fasting on Rosh Hashana. Some Ge’onim maintained that it is preferable for one to fast on both days of Rosh Hashana, or at least on the second, which is only Rabbinic. The Rosh (Rosh Hashana 4:14) cites and rejects these views, arguing that it is best not to fast on either day: “For so said the early leaders of the Jewish people on Rosh Hashana: ‘Eat choice foods and drink sweet drinks, for today is holy.’” Although the accepted halakha follows the Rosh’s opinion (Shulchan Arukh, OC 597:1), one wonders how the other decisors read our verse.
A careful examination of our chapter reveals an alternative reading. Although our verses do emphasize that the reason the Jews were to fast was because “this day is holy to our master,” it is plausible that the requirement of celebration was not due to Rosh Hashana, but the joy of rediscovering the Torah. In fact, there seems to be strong support for this view from verse 12, which records that “the people went to eat and drink and send portions and make great merriment, for they understood the things they were told.” While it is possible to read the verse as suggesting that the Jews celebrated because they had come to understand that this was their obligation (Malbim, s.v. ki heivinu), the more convincing reading is that the Jews celebrated due to their excitement at having rediscovered the Torah (Metzudat David, s.v. ki heivinu). On this view, the prohibition against fasting and mourning was not due to the sanctity of Rosh Hashana, but rather the significance of a day on which there was a renewed commitment to Torah.
If so, our story provides a scriptural basis for the Rabbinic notion that Torah study is a joyous activity. The Rabbis anchored this concept in the verse in Tehillim, “Pikudei Hashem yesharim mesamechei lev,” “the precepts of God are straight, they gladden the heart” (Tehillim 19:9; see Ta’anit 30a, Arakhin 11a, and Yoma 72b). Arguably, our narrative provides an additional basis for this central Rabbinic teaching.
Mishloach Manot
Turning to the question of mishloach manot, a few notes are in order. First, scholars note that Persians customarily distributed gifts to their friends on the Persian New Year. If so, perhaps the leaders were informing the people that such a practice was not objectionable and was in fact meritorious. The fact that their pagan neighbors followed this custom was not ipso facto reason to disqualify the behavior.
Second, the practice of caring for the impoverished is fully consistent with a key component of Nechemia’s social program, which sought to level the playing field between the higher and lower classes. Integrating these concerns into the New Year practices of the community helped to reinforce these values.
Third, although the language of Nechemia clearly borrows from that of Purim and Megillat Esther, the larger motif is drawn directly from Chumash. The Torah commands, “You shall rejoice in your festival, with your son and daughter, your male and female slave, the Levite, the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow in your communities” (Devarim 16:14). While cast in contemporary language and consistent with contemporary gentile practice, Nechemia’s charge is deeply rooted in the Bible’s vision of the proper celebration of a holiday.
One final note should be made of the connection to Esther. We have already reviewed the striking resemblances between Nechemia and Esther’s approaches to the king. Similarly, it is surely no coincidence that the terminology of mishloach manot appears only in these two contexts. Putting Esther and Nechemia together, it appears that repairing the Jewish People’s social fabric was a major point of emphasis for both post-exilic communities. It is almost as if Tanakh implies that Jews of Persia and Israel sought to “undo” the sins of previous generations, in which the wealthy trampled upon the poor and there were irreparable divisions between the different classes of society. Both Esther and Nechemia worked to create greater unity by emphasizing the importance of generosity at times of communal celebration, so that no one would feel excluded.
Sukkot
The celebration of Sukkot is extremely curious and demands careful consideration. As mentioned, there is no obvious reference to the four species. At the same time, at least two of the items that the Jews are commanded to collect for their huts are the same species one is required to wave: the palm branch and myrtle leaves. This is perplexing. Were these taken only for the construction of sukkot or for the waving of the species? If the former is correct, is it merely a coincidence that the text makes note of materials that were required for the lulav? And if the latter is true, and the lulav and hadasim were being collected to be waved, why are the people not commanded to collect the etrog and aravot?
The continuation of the story is equally puzzling. Is it really plausible that the Jews had not sat in sukkot since the days of Yehoshua bin Nun? In the words of the Talmud (Arakhin 32b), “Is it possible that when David came, they made no booths, [when Solomon came, they did not make booths] until Ezra came?” What are we to make of this sensational assertion?
Numerous suggestions have been offered in response to both questions. Concerning the four materials, the Rabbis make a number of points. First, the Talmud (Sukka 12a) raises an additional problem: aren’t hadas and etz avot both myrtles? Why were the Jews obligated to collect both? The Talmud (ibid.) answers that there are two types of myrtle – one that is fit for the four species and another that only externally resembles the “true” myrtle. The Jews were instructed to collect one type for building sukkot and the other for the four species. According to the Rabbis, the Jews were indeed collecting for both mitzvot, not only to construct sukkot. Rashi (Nechemia 8:15, s.v. va-alei hadas) and Metzudat David (ibid.) follow this view.
Another Talmudic passage (Sukka 36b-37a), however, seems to read our story quite differently. The Talmud cites a fascinating dispute between R. Meir and R. Yehuda. R. Meir holds the conventional view that one may build the sekhakh out of any material that does not contract impurity, while R. Yehuda maintains that the sekhakh may only consist of the four species. R. Meir cites our story as evidence for his opinion. In addition to palm branches and myrtles, the Jews were also instructed to collect olive branches and pine trees. This proves that all materials are fit for sekhakh.
R. Yehuda responds that whereas the palm branches and myrtles were collected for sekhakh, the olive branches and pine wood were for the doors. Both R. Meir and R. Yehuda appear to agree that all the materials were being collected for the sukka, and not the four species; they only dispute whether the items were being gathered for sekhakh only or for the doors as well.
Perhaps the most compelling interpretation may be offered on the basis of a combination of an interpretive insight of Ibn Ezra coupled with a perspective from ancient near eastern botany. Ibn Ezra (Nechemia 8:15, sv. va’asher) argues that the Jews were not commanded to collect all these materials; they were simply being instructed to collect any of these items. The “vav,” as elsewhere, does not denote “and,” but “or.” This resolves any question regarding the four species; the sole purpose of the mountain expedition was to collect materials for the sukka, and any of these materials sufficed for this purpose.
The one question that Ibn Ezra fails to address is the coincidence of the material generally used for the species. This is where the botanical research comes into play. Dr. Yehuda Felix argues that the reason these specific materials were designated for the four species was due to the ubiquity of these materials in Israel at the time the Jews were exiting Egypt and traveling toward Cana’an.
In his Guide to the Perplexed, Maimonides offers a similar view:
I believe that the four species are a symbolical expression of our rejoicing that the Israelites changed the wilderness, "no place of seed, or of figs, or of vines, or of pomegranates, or of water to drink" (Bamidbar 20:5), with a country full of fruit-trees and rivers. In order to remember this, we take the fruit which is the most pleasant of the fruit of the land, branches which smell best, most beautiful leaves, and also the best of herbs, i.e., the willows of the brook. These four kinds have also those three purposes. First, they were plentiful in those days in Palestine, so that everyone could easily get them. Second, they have a good appearance; they are green; some of them, viz., the citron and the myrtle, are also excellent as regards their smell, the branches of the palm-tree and the willow having neither good nor bad smell. Third, they keep fresh and green for seven days, which is not the case with peaches, pomegranates, asparagus, nuts, and the like. (3:43)
If so, we would expect overlap between materials that the Jews were obligated to take for the four species and those they would have naturally located in the area. In light of this thesis, the confusion surrounding our narrative is neatly resolved.
What of the problem of a sukkot not seen since the days of Yehoshua bin Nun? Here too the Talmud weighs in, although the suggestion seems somewhat tenuous:
Rather, he compares their arrival in the days of Ezra to their arrival in the days of Joshua. Just as at their arrival in the days of Joshua they counted the years of release and the Jubilees and consecrated cities encompassed by walls, thus also at their arrival in the days of Ezra they counted the years of release and the Jubilees and consecrated walled cities. (Arakhin 32b)
At first glance, there seems to be little connection between the celebration of Sukkot and the consecration of the land. We will offer a possible explanation of the Talmud’s intention at the end of our discussion.
Others (Da’at Mikra p. 108; see also Kuzari 3:63) propose that the purpose of the narrative is simply to exaggerate for effect, emphasizing the historic nature of the Sukkot observance. This finds support in that we find similar claims in relation to other historic religious biblical events, such as the Pesach of Yoshiyahu (II Melakhim 23:22 - “the Passover sacrifice had not been offered in that manner in the days of the Judges who ruled Israel”); the parallel in II Divrei Ha-Yamim (35:8 - “from the days of Shmuel”); and the Pesach of Chizkiyahu (II Divrei Ha-Yamim 30:26 - “from the days of Shlomo”).
Ralbag (8:17, s.v. ki) proposes that the Jews had not performed the mitzva so wholeheartedly since the time of Yehoshua. Along similar lines, Metzudat David (ibid., s.v. va-yeshvu) claims that although the Jews had sat in sukkot regularly, they had previously spent the minimal amount of time necessary in the huts. Only this year did they sit “in great permanence,” meaning for the majority of the holiday, as is appropriate.
Malbim offers a sort of compromise view. In fact, many Jews were previously unable to sit in sukkot. This was because they lacked private property, including their own private domain, which would allow them to fulfill the mitzva properly. Only now, when beit din had expropriated the public domain as belonging to the entirety of the Jewish People, were even the poorer members of the community able to fulfill their obligation. This explanation, while not as persuasive a textual reading as some others, does have the benefit of dovetailing nicely with Nechemia’s economic agenda of narrowing the gaps between the rich and the poor.
Perhaps the most compelling explanation (Zer-Kavod, Da’at Mikra, p. 108, note 20:3) picks up on the opening clause of the verse: “The entire nation that had returned from captivity fashioned sukkot” (8:17). This clearly evokes the opening phrase of chapter 8, returning us full circle: “The entire nation gathered as a single man.” If we consider the matter carefully, there is good reason to believe that this is the first time since the time of Yehoshua’s entry to the land when the entire population of Israel gathered together to celebrate sukkot. At what other time did the entire, sprawling population join together? Even in the best of scenarios, on the holidays, only the men would have been required to journey to the Temple. The scant population of Judea ironically created a national, religious opportunity that could not be achieved at times when the Jewish community was more established. Furthermore, it is possible that the passage in the Talmud (Arakhin 32b) cited above is hinting to this similarity. The fact that the entry of Yehoshua and Ezra restored the sanctity of the land of Israel, resulting in renewed calculations of the shemitta and yovel cycles, reflected the presence of the entire Jewish community in renewing that kedusha.
Whether or not this is the intent of the Talmud, this reading of the verse is quite compelling. This extraordinary moment of solidarity, coupled with the dramatic impact of the Torah reading ceremony just a few days earlier, combines to make the events of Nechemia chapter eight some of the most climactic known to biblical history.