Sukkos in the Beis Hamikdash - Rabbi Yaron Yitzchok Lederman shlita

00:02 Speaker 1 You’re listening to “Lema’an Yishme’u,” a podcast from Machon Halacha Chabad.

00:09 Speaker 2 Shalom aleichem. We’re talking now about Sukkos. Sukkos. What did the Beis Hamikdash look like on Sukkos? We already know that on Pesach there was an ongoing, wondrous miracle. What happened in the Beis Hamikdash on Sukkos? We’re now after [unclear], after the Kohen Gadol’s service on Yom Kippur. Everyone was filled with excitement, and everyone had already built their sukkahs. It’s now the eve of Sukkos. Everyone sat in the sukkah and ate a kezayis, and in the morning everyone got up at sunrise to shake the lulav. Where did they shake the lulav? Where did the service take place? What happened in the Beis Hamikdash? What was the order of things? So we’ll try to understand a little of it, as best we can, from what we have available to us now. We haven’t seen it yet. Sukkos is a pilgrimage festival like all the others. What happens on a pilgrimage festival? It says that all the watches had equal standing during the festival. As we know, the division of the kohanim’s service began in the time of Moshe Rabbeinu and was continued afterward by Shmuel the Prophet and King David. They kept dividing it further until they established twenty-four watches of kohanim, with twenty-four watches of Levi’im corresponding to them, and twenty-four groups of Yisraelim called ma’amados. What did these watches do? Each watch consisted of several family groups. In other words, several families of kohanim belonged to that watch. The Gemara tells us that the watch serving when the Beis Hamikdash was destroyed was Yehoyariv. That was the last watch, and in its time the Beis Hamikdash will be rebuilt. In other words, Yehoyariv was the watch in whose time the Beis Hamikdash was destroyed. On Sukkos, all the watches—that is, all twenty-four watches—came to serve in the Beis Hamikdash, including all the family groups within them. Why? Because during a pilgrimage festival, the kohanim have a tremendous amount of work. Let’s explain. On a pilgrimage festival, every Jew, every head of a Jewish household, has an offering called the offering of

02:23 Speaker 2 re’iyah. Yes. “They shall not appear before Me empty-handed,” so he has to come with an offering. This offering is an olah, a burnt offering. It can come from the flock or the herd, but it must be male. It can be a bull, a calf, a goat or a lamb, but it must be male. It is an olah and is burned entirely. That is one obligatory offering. A second obligatory offering is the chagigah, which is a shelamim offering. Its owners eat it over two days and one night, and we bring this shelamim offering on Yom Tov as well. Now, our Sages tell us that someone who does not bring his re’iyah offering on Yom Tov brings it afterward; there are seven days on which to make it up. He isn’t considered particularly diligent. Various descriptions were given, so everyone tried to bring their offering on the first day, the first day of Yom Tov, and that created a tremendous rush. But because the rush was so great and not everyone could manage it, the millions of Jewish households of that time, throughout the eras of the Beis Hamikdash, brought their re’iyah offerings and chagigah shelamim offerings over the seven days of the festival. Shavuos is also a pilgrimage festival, and on Shavuos too they brought the re’iyah olah and the chagigah shelamim for up to seven days after the festival. So there were very, very many offerings from the people. In addition, there were the offerings of Sukkos itself: seventy bulls. What does seventy bulls mean? It means that for each bull we need twenty-four kohanim. Three carry the head, three carry the neck. There are details in halacha about what each one carries, but to handle so

04:17 Speaker 2 many bulls, we need an enormous workforce. We also have fourteen lambs and another two rams. Let’s do a quick calculation: twenty-four per bull is 312 kohanim—twenty-four times twelve, times thirteen, sorry, on the first day. So on the first day alone, we had 312 kohanim working on the bulls of the festival’s first day of Yom Tov. Think of the enormous number of kohanim faithfully doing their work, waiting to place everything on the ramp. It was practically an entire operation. The supervision of it all was something to behold. So many kohanim slaughtering there, and of course there were supervisors going around, checking that not a drop of blood had dripped onto a kohen’s garment, which would disqualify it because the garment would be stained; that the kohanim were performing the service properly; that they had slaughtered correctly, collected all the blood, and sprinkled it on two corners, which count as four. All these acts were performed there in the Beis Hamikdash for each of the thirteen bulls. Boruch Hashem, on the last day there were only seven bulls, but that was still a lot. Then there were two rams as communal offerings. Those also required eleven kohanim each, twenty-two in all. And there were another fourteen lambs, with six kohanim for each lamb—that’s another eighty-four—eighty-six. Altogether, we have 416 kohanim just for the first communal offering of the first day of Sukkos. That’s apart from all the millions who needed to bring their own olah offerings, which, as we said, could also be bulls. A person might want to bring something impressive. As the Mishnah says, someone with considerable means brings many olah offerings. Someone with limited

05:57 Speaker 2 means brings fewer olah offerings, or simpler olah offerings, and more shelamim offerings, so his family has something to eat in Jerusalem. That was the order in which they brought offerings. So everyone brought his offering, and these offerings also had to be brought and skinned. That is why there was a tremendous crush in the courtyard, and there were extraordinary miracles, as described in the Midrashim and by our Sages. Of course, Pesach was a special case, because everyone really had to bring their Pesach offerings. That was unique: all the Pesach offerings had to be sacrificed. You couldn’t spread them over seven days. They were all brought on a single afternoon, which is truly extraordinary. But there was a very heavy workload on the other pilgrimage festivals too, when everyone brought their offerings. And since a person was already making the trip to the Beis Hamikdash—there was no Highway 6 back then—once he arrived, he also had vows and voluntary offerings to bring. If someone had vowed to bring an offering or wanted to bring a voluntary offering to Hashem, all those offerings accumulated and were brought during the festival as well. When else would he bring them, if not when he came to the Beis Hamikdash? Then the meat of the offerings was eaten, and the kohanim were at their posts. That is why all the watches had to come to the Beis Hamikdash—all those hundreds and thousands of kohanim. Today, perhaps there are tens of thousands of kohanim. How did someone get chosen? How was the work divided? There is a difficult story told in Tractate Yoma. Two people wanted to win the right to perform the service, so they raced up the ramp, and one pushed the other. They were racing because whoever reached the top first would supposedly win the service. So one pushed his fellow. This teaches us something in our service of Hashem: even if you want to serve Hashem, to draw closer and become holy, you must not do it at your fellow’s expense.

07:42 Speaker 2 Certainly not; that wouldn’t be possible. So one of them pushed the other. The Gemara actually tells an even more shocking story: one stabbed the other, and he even died from it. So yes, there was competition. When the outgoing watch of kohanim finished its week—because the watch changed every week—they would bless one another that Hashem should bring peace among them. After all, you came here to serve Hashem, not for anything else; there should be brotherhood and friendship among you. So there was competition among the kohanim, and to regulate it, they first established the system of watches and family groups. When a watch came, several family groups within it would serve on a given day, and the watch itself was fixed. So there was a particular watch whose turn happened to fall on Sukkos. That was its lot. It received a share in these offerings, the regular offerings, and that is why the whole family group—the whole watch, really, whose week it was—had to serve on Sukkos for the regular offerings. What did they receive from those offerings? From the burnt offerings they received the hides, so they had an interest in the work. A hide was quite valuable in those days, so serving in the Beis Hamikdash and receiving the hides was worthwhile. With the individual offerings we discussed, the olas re’iyah and the shalmei chagigah, the owners gave portions to the kohanim. For every olas re’iyah, the serving kohen received the hide of that offering, and with a peace offering he received not only the hide but also the breast and the thigh. So serving in the Beis Hamikdash was really worthwhile. That is why all the kohanim and all the watches would come and want to do the work. How, then, did they divide up the regular work? Each day in the Beis Hamikdash—

09:43 Speaker 2 On an ordinary day there were four lotteries. For a lottery, they would stand in a circle. Someone would remove a kohen’s turban for a moment and immediately put it back—after all, what does it mean to be without a turban in the Beis Hamikdash? Then they would start counting from him, using a number larger than the number of participants. Each person would hold out a finger, and wherever the count ended—four hundred and fifty-six, say—that’s it, it’s yours. Then whoever was to your left—sorry, to your right—would receive the next task. Since you couldn’t do this with thousands of kohanim, bringing them all into a circle to count them, this is what the official in charge of the lotteries did: according to one approach, he assembled the heads of all twenty-four watches and held the lotteries among them. They then held an internal lottery among their own kohanim to determine who would do each task each day. That was one way of dividing the work among the watches. Another approach says that on the first day they chose thirteen watches, corresponding to the thirteen kohanim who received tasks in the Beis Hamikdash each day. So thirteen watches stood in the circle on the first day, and eleven on the second. This way they divided and rotated the work, and each had a chance to perform the public offerings, because every watch wanted to perform those offerings and receive their hides. Of course, there were also righteous kohanim. They weren’t looking only at the financial side; they wanted to serve Hashem in the Beis Hamikdash. There they saw the fire descend. Imagine seeing a two-ton bull disappear in the fire within five minutes. What an extraordinary sight.

11:26 Speaker 2 So there were righteous people who wanted to see the real thing: serving Hashem there in the Beis Hamikdash. That was how the public offerings were divided. What did they bring? We said that on the first day of Sukkos they brought thirteen bulls, two rams, seven lambs, and one he-goat. There are two approaches as to when the he-goat was brought. Usually, a sin offering takes precedence over all the other offerings, so it should be brought first. That is indeed how the Chofetz Chaim’s son-in-law rules in his book Avodas Hakorbanos. Others, both earlier and later authorities, rule based on the phrase “according to their prescribed order.” They say that since “according to their prescribed order” is a Torah requirement, and the sin offering is written last in the verse, that is its prescribed place. So the he-goat brought as a sin offering was indeed offered at the end.

12:15 Speaker 2 At the end of the public offerings. So the public offering consisted of burnt offerings—thirteen bulls, two rams, and seven lambs—and one sin offering, the he-goat. All of that was the public offering. The kohanim divided its service among themselves, and each kohen received the portion due to him. The Gemara in Sukkah describes how the work was divided among the kohanim of all the watches. It lays out, almost mathematically—not almost, entirely mathematically—the order that would give each watch the maximum number of bulls. They distributed the bulls as their number decreased from thirteen to seven, along with the fourteen lambs, so that all the watches would be occupied with their service and each would have the opportunity, on these holy and wonderful days, [unclear], to witness the service in the Beis Hamikdash. On Sukkos there is also a requirement to eat an offering, and we must eat it at least within Jerusalem. Some offerings must be eaten in the Temple courtyard. Offerings of the highest sanctity may not be taken out. If something of the highest sanctity, such as the showbread—or the peace offerings; there are no communal peace offerings, but if someone brought another offering, a sin offering or something like that, or even a guilt offering—those must be eaten inside the courtyard. And we know that there is a rule concerning bread in particular: our Sages decreed that one may not eat an olive-sized portion of bread outside a sukkah. So what’s the problem? Eat it in a sukkah. But then another problem arises. It says, “You shall not plant an asherah beside the altar of Hashem your G-d,” and “beside” means anywhere in the Temple courtyard. So you may not build sukkahs in the courtyard of the Beis Hamikdash. What do you do? Later authorities wrestled with this a great deal. We find no record of how it was done. Really, for this alone it is worth praying for the Beis Hamikdash, so that we can understand how the offerings were eaten in sukkahs.

14:32 Speaker 2 They offer various suggestions. One that seems more plausible, at least at first glance, is this: since the walls may be made of any material, build the sukkah’s walls out of metal, and make its covering not from trees but from twigs and branches. We know that the s’chach itself may not be metal or anything that can contract ritual impurity. So you build the walls and put very light materials on top, hoping that the s’chach will stay in place throughout Sukkos. A sukkah has to stand for all seven days. Then you set it up in the Temple courtyard—a kind of sukkah that isn’t very common today. Certainly our [unclear] would be invalid, because that would be planting an asherah, which is forbidden. Then the kohanim could eat the offering inside the courtyard. Chabad kohanim, certainly, would want to eat there—they won’t even drink outside a sukkah—so they would definitely need that metal sukkah. We would want to see how this solution works. So they ate these offerings in the courtyard, in those special sukkahs. There is discussion of whether there was one sukkah or more. It might also be possible to use a wall of the courtyard as a sukkah wall, though if it is roofed, that would invalidate the s’chach. There were all sorts of considerations in making a sukkah in the courtyard, chiefly that it not involve a tree planted there, which is forbidden because of “You shall not plant an asherah beside the altar of Hashem your G-d.” This raised many difficulties, and many of the earlier authorities—and later ones too—debated how to resolve it. In any case, one of the solutions they found, which to my mind sounds more reasonable, was to build a sukkah of metal and place over it s’chach made of twigs and branches that do not resemble

16:22 Speaker 2 Not the shape of the tree at all, but mainly its branches, and through that, we can have kosher schach. Then, in that sukkah, everyone will be able to eat the offerings. We are in Sukkos. As we know, Sukkos has the Simchas Beis Hashoeivah, which is connected with drawing water. So let’s recall a little of the order the Gemara describes. They would spend the first three hours like this, following the schedule until evening. They would eat a little and doze on one another’s shoulders. As it says, they did not sleep during those seven days; they would only nod off now and then on a friend’s shoulder—and they wanted a friend who was at least the same height. Now we have brought the afternoon tamid offering, and afterward we davened Minchah. There were prayers in the Beis Hamikdash too, as the Mishnah says. True, the Mishnah describes the end of the Second Beis Hamikdash; apparently, in the First Beis Hamikdash the prayers were much shorter. But by the Second Beis Hamikdash, there were already the blessings of Shema, Shema itself, Shemoneh Esrei, and perhaps a few verses afterward. That took place in the Beis Hamikdash too, even though we also had the tamid offering. So the whole congregation had already davened as well. That was certainly the situation in the Second Beis Hamikdash, and apparently they won’t let us skip it either. Perhaps they’ll have us go up—who knows what the future will bring? But in any case, if that was how things were at the end of the Second Beis Hamikdash, that is how we will be at first too. “Days of which you will say, ‘I have no desire for them’”—those are the days of Moshiach. May we merit to see it in those days. In any case, we have davened Minchah, and now we see that the kohanim have piles and piles of fats brought throughout this day of Sukkos,

18:11 Speaker 2 We say [unclear] that it is one of the days, and, ah, they have piles of what? Of the fats from all the chagigah offerings and the offerings of rejoicing that we brought during the day. They are being consumed on the mizbeiach. There were also some burnt offerings brought, and those are burning too. Any offerings brought for appearing before Hashem that we had not managed to bring earlier are brought now, and they continue to be consumed through the night. Corresponding to them, we daven Maariv. We daven that on the Temple Mount as well, and now the Simchas Beis Hashoeivah begins. The first Simchas Beis Hashoeivah of Sukkos in the Beis Hamikdash is on the night after the first Yom Tov. The instruments are not permitted, so we do not hold the Simchas Beis Hashoeivah on Yom Tov itself, but it begins as soon as the first Yom Tov ends. So let’s locate where it takes place. It does not take place in the courtyard, of course. There, they clean what needs cleaning and prepare the mizbeiach for the millions—or hundreds of thousands—of offerings we will bring tomorrow. But where do we celebrate? In the Women’s Courtyard. Incidentally, in the Third Beis Hamikdash the Women’s Courtyard surrounds it, so people can leave in every direction. It is not as though everyone has to squeeze through the Nikanor Gate into the Women’s Courtyard and, G-d forbid, fall down the steps there. Instead, we leave through the gates of the courtyard in the Third Beis Hamikdash and go to the Women’s Courtyard, which surrounds the building. Where are the women? The Gemara in Sukkah describes several arrangements our Sages tried for them: women inside and men outside, then men inside and women outside. Neither worked very well for modesty, until they found the solution. What was it? The women above and the men below. What was the problem? It says, “The hand of Hashem was upon me, and He gave me understanding.” You may not build anything in the Beis Hamikdash that, ah, is not needed at that time. There was a wooden platform. Where?

20:09 Speaker 2 Not inside the courtyard, of course, because then we would face the question of “You shall not plant for yourself an asheirah tree beside the mizbeiach of Hashem your G-d.” We may not put any wooden structures in the courtyard, so they moved the, ah, wooden platform. Why do we need a wooden platform in the Women’s Courtyard? Isn’t it crowded enough there? We are talking about a Hakhel year. In a Hakhel year they really brought everyone—everyone, including infants. They are standing there now, and Moshiach the King—you know who that is—stands on that platform and reads the passages from Devarim, seven passages as stated in the Mishnah. All the people stand there in tremendous awe and read along with him, if they know the words by heart. Ah, and... they are there with the wooden platform. But it was not only a wooden platform that they built there; they also built additional structures where the women could stand around it. In the time of the Second Beis Hamikdash, the Women’s Courtyard did not have a permanent structure built all year round. Preparations were in place: beams projecting from the wall and beams that—they tried to make them of metal. Or, according to one view, upright beams do not count as “you shall not plant,” so they permitted projecting wooden beams. On the night after the Yom Tov of Sukkos, they began building the structure on top of them. Why then? Because construction of the Beis Hamikdash does not override Yom Tov. And even before Yom Tov, we cannot have an unnecessary structure in the courtyard. So only when Yom Tov ended did they begin preparing this courtyard. Then the safety engineer from, ah, the welfare ministry arrives—I don’t know from whom—and checks that people can jump and do what they do there, and that it will support the women with their babies and everything. Then they build this, ah, magnificent women’s gallery, and it holds

22:04 Speaker 2 all the women. The men get organized below; the whole people arrive, and the great sages of Israel stand there, juggling torches and singing. Of course, all the Levi’im come too. Just as all the watches of kohanim came, so did all the watches of Levi’im, and the finest musicians among them sing songs that stir us to ruach hakodesh, to enthusiasm and emotion. In the time of the Second Beis Hamikdash, there were enormous lamps there. It says in... the Gemara says that, ah, people did not need to light their homes because of the light from the lamps of the Beis Hamikdash. Perhaps it means spiritual light, but in practice there was also very powerful light there. Strong men, very strong kohanim, carried great quantities of oil up to those lamps. They lit the wicks made from the kohanim’s old garments, because for anything connected with the Beis Hamikdash, we want to use holy, consecrated things. So they made wicks from the kohanim’s worn-out trousers, very thick wicks, and lit them there in the Women’s Courtyard. In short, there was tremendous light and tremendous song, and the great sages of Israel led most of the rejoicing. We see them standing there, doing this until when? Until a few hours before dawn. The kohanim in the courtyard, who accompanied the people, sounded three blasts on trumpets—not on a shofar. Then the Nikanor Gate was opened so they could descend into the lower courtyard. The Levi’im began assembling on the steps, on the fifteen special steps of the Nikanor Gate. There are all the miracles associated with that gate. Then they reached the floor of the Women’s Courtyard and stood at the foot of the steps leading up to the Nikanor Gate—that is how it was in the Second Beis Hamikdash—and then they sounded the trumpets again.

24:06 Speaker 2 And they sound a long blast until they reach the eastern gate, which is the Lower Gate—that’s what it’s called in many places in the teachings of our Sages. There’s an Upper Gate, which is the Nikanor Gate, and the Lower Gate is the gate of the Women’s Courtyard. In the Second Beis Hamikdash it stood seven and a half meters below the Nikanor Gate. The whole Beis Hamikdash was built in ascending levels, so even the Lower Gate was six meters above the Temple Mount: twelve steps led from the Temple Mount to the Lower Gate. The Lower Gate is the entrance to the Women’s Courtyard, where the whole event we’re discussing took place. It wasn’t a very large space, and I imagine that many people also gathered around it on the Temple Mount—those who couldn’t get in, those who didn’t make it in time, or perhaps people took turns. Who knows? So there was a very large crowd in the Women’s Courtyard and around it on the Temple Mount. The kohanim continued sounding the sequence of tekiah, teruah, tekiah on the trumpets until they reached the Lower Gate. Then they opened it, and the entire crowd went out to the Shiloach. The Shiloach was a stream that flowed to the east. It still exists today, though today it’s more of a wadi than a stream; it no longer carries water. But in the time of the Beis Hamikdash, there was a permanent water system there. Water was channeled through the conduit in the courtyard, west of the altar. There was an entire water system in the Beis Hamikdash. Water was needed in many places, including the Chamber of the Hearth, and wherever running water was needed—mainly in the northern part of the courtyard—it came from the Ein Eitam spring. From there, the water was distributed through various channels and routes across the Temple Mount.

26:06 Speaker 2 There was also the water that flowed through the conduit. Between the Ulam and the altar, in the courtyard floor, there was a channel sixty centimeters wide called the water conduit. It was covered, so you could walk over it, but all the blood poured on the base of the altar flowed into it. At the end of each offering, the blood is placed on the base; the blood has to touch the base. From there it passes through openings onto the courtyard floor, then enters the water conduit, which runs down to the Kidron. The remarkable thing is that the water mixed with this blood—the blood of the offerings. Farmers lined up to get blood from the Beis Hamikdash to fertilize their fields; it made excellent fertilizer. So care was taken to make sure they paid for it, to avoid, G-d forbid, any misuse of consecrated property. Even though its mitzvah had already been performed and so on, they still wanted to leave no room for doubt. So all that blood flowed down. We’re walking there by the Kidron stream, and nearby are the waters of the Shiloach, a spring. There are several streams there to the east of the Beis Hamikdash. At the waters of the Shiloach, the entire Jewish crowd is there, together with all the musicians who had just been on the steps. They all go out together, and of course there is tremendous rejoicing. There’s a dispute about whether this happened during the water-drawing or immediately afterward, but according to the view that the drawing took place then, they began walking back toward the Beis Hamikdash. What did they draw the water with? First of all, there’s the well-known flask—a kind of vessel. How much water did they draw? At least three log. Why three log? Because that’s the minimum quantity of liquid

28:11 Speaker 2 for an offering. We have libations of three log for a lamb—wine and oil. So our Sages established that measure. By the most stringent calculation, that of the Chazon Ish, it comes to two liters at most. That’s it: no more than two liters of water. Is drawing two liters of water really such a big undertaking? Well, thank G-d. This is water that goes up onto the altar, water that descends into the shisin, the channels beneath it. It’s especially holy water, and Hayom Yom says that from this they received ruach hakodesh. So it was certainly an extraordinary event, this whole occasion. The entire holy congregation goes down to the Shiloach with great ceremony. Now, what kind of vessel do they draw the water with? Not a consecrated service vessel. Why? Because we’re still before dawn. If we drew it in a service vessel, that vessel would consecrate the water. Then dawn would arrive while the consecrated water was still in it, and according to one opinion, that would count as leaving it overnight. Things left overnight may not be used in the Beis Hamikdash. We would then have to pour out the water and repeat the entire ceremony in the middle of the day—and that won’t do. So what do they do? They take another vessel, one that isn’t a service vessel, though of course it’s a respectable one. It says that when people brought a meal offering to the Beis Hamikdash, they had to bring vessels fit to be service vessels. In other words, someone who could afford it would bring a gold vessel, but it wasn’t consecrated as a service vessel. One difference is that it hadn’t been anointed with the anointing oil. Service vessels were anointed with the anointing oil. The vessels people brought to the Beis Hamikdash weren’t, and neither was the vessel

29:48 Speaker 2 used to draw this water anointed with the anointing oil. It wasn’t a service vessel either. After the oil was hidden away in the days of King Yoshiyahu, we no longer had it, so vessels were consecrated through the ability to consecrate vessels, which, they said, continued. In any case, they drew those two liters of water in a respectable vessel and waited until dawn had passed. Then they poured the water into the vessel they would use to go and pour it as a libation on the altar. We’ll talk in a moment about when that happened. So we’re now in the middle of the drawing: we’ve drawn two liters into this vessel. Anyone who wanted to draw more—by all means. If someone wanted water to drink during the day, to become even more sanctified, thank G-d. The Jewish people are ready. We’re still before dawn, making our way back toward the courtyard. We’re to the east, walking westward, but we approach by way of a gate called the Water Gate—since all your turns should be to the right. In the Second Beis Hamikdash there were seven or thirteen gates, depending on the commentators’ views, but in any case there were at least seven gates on the southern side of the Beis Hamikdash. The first gate, above which were the Kohen Gadol’s mikvah for Yom Kippur and the Chamber of Beis Avtinas—or perhaps they were to its right—was called the Water Gate. Why was it called the Water Gate? Because of what we’re doing: bringing water from the Shiloach through the Beis Hamikdash gates to the altar. Some commentators therefore explain that the Water Gate stood directly opposite the ramp, so there would be no delay even for a moment. When you come from performing a mitzvah, you don’t pass over another mitzvah. As soon as you reach the courtyard, they give you the vessel—the service vessel into which the water is poured—and then,

31:50 Speaker 2 Ah, they enter and go up onto the ramp, ready to perform the libation. But when does the libation take place? Together with the wine. When is the wine poured? The wine is poured after the morning tamid offering. That is the earliest time. Some opinions say it is poured after the musaf offerings. As we said earlier, on Sukkos they bring a very substantial musaf, involving hundreds of kohanim. So they bring up the wine and the water together and pour them together. One opinion says that they did indeed draw the water in a consecrated vessel, and therefore drew it after dawn, after the eastern sky had grown light. That means this whole procession waited longer and stayed there until dawn. And then something very interesting happens: while they are drawing the water, their fellow kohanim in the Beis Hamikdash are already carrying out the entire morning service, which is a tremendous amount of work. They clean the altar, put the courtyard in order, prepare the lamps, tend to the golden altar, and arrange all the daily tasks, and they offer the morning tamid. There is also an opinion that while the morning tamid is being offered, the procession is only just coming up from the Shiloach, with this whole remarkable ceremony, and entering through the Water Gate. Either way, if someone came to the Beis Hamikdash, they would need many, many news crews to document it. One photographer would not be enough; I don’t know, you would need serious teams here. So many things are happening. As someone once put it—I heard someone use this expression in [unclear]—it’s a marathon of holiness. Here too we had a marathon. I think it was a reporter for Maariv or something like that. So,

33:42 Speaker 2 in any case, there is a marathon of holiness here. So much is happening, and so much is happening at the same time. In the Wood Chamber they sort the wood and check it for worms, because a great deal of wood is needed for the festivals. So the kohanim who were disqualified from the service because of a blemish, whether temporary or permanent, an amputated leg, or things like that, work there in the Wood Chamber, preparing the wood for us. And there are others who prepare the oils and the fine flour elsewhere. A tremendous amount happens in the Beis Hamikdash. It is an enormous center of holiness where things are happening all the time. Those coming up from the Shiloach sound a teruah on the trumpets and enter the Beis Hamikdash in a great, magnificent procession, with a large crowd. Usually, two major sacred activities did not take place in the Beis Hamikdash at the same time. Why? “In the house of G-d we walked with a throng.” There was always one focal activity. For example, when the kohanim brought the tamid, they sprinkled the blood—that was the great event. After the blood was brought, the skinning and cutting up began, and something else was happening. So we saw a different activity taking place in the courtyard. Afterward they placed the limbs of the tamid halfway up the ramp. Go up a little higher—no. Then I want to fill the courtyard with excitement again, to have something happening again. That is a very, very important educational principle. So they completed the important parts of the morning tamid service and placed the portions of the offering—the limbs, the cuts of the tamid—halfway up the ramp. On the festivals, on Sukkos, they placed the musaf halfway up the ramp on the western side, and the tamid specifically on the eastern side. In other words, the ramp leading up to the altar is now adorned with the limbs of the offerings. These are a great many offerings. We are talking about more than twenty

35:38 Speaker 2 -two offerings brought on the first day of the festival, certainly, and even more than that. That is also because on the first day, if it is not Shabbos, all the pilgrimage burnt offerings and so on may be brought. So there were a great many offerings on the ramp, and now we bring all those offerings up. But as we said, we perform the libation, and we asked when the wine libation is performed. For the morning tamid, we do it immediately after the tamid; the other offerings also have accompanying offerings. Every peace offering and every burnt offering has accompanying offerings: a meal offering and a wine libation. A libation is something poured downward; that is what the word refers to, something that descends. In any event, those accompanying offerings were brought after the morning tamid, including the tamid’s own libation.

36:39 Speaker 3 The tamid.

36:39 Speaker 2 So a libation is something that goes downward, and the tamid’s accompanying offerings were brought immediately after the tamid. Yes, after they placed all the limbs of the tamid on the western side of the ramp, they poured the tamid’s libation. Of course, there is also an opinion that all the libations were grouped together. Then there were the libations for all the offerings—all twenty offerings—which is a tremendous amount, right? Three log per offering, about a liter each, means twenty separate pourings. Each offering must have its own libation, out of respect for the offering. So we essentially had a line of kohanim waiting to pour their libations into the basins. Where do they pour them? What exactly do they do? I’ll explain briefly. We have a meal offering containing one tenth of an ephah of fine flour, roughly 2.25 kilograms by the measure we use today for separating challah. That is mixed with three log of oil, about a liter of oil. This mixture is called the accompanying meal offering; that is just the meal offering. The libation itself is another three log of wine, which they pour on the altar. Where on the altar? There were two basins on the altar: one for wine and, on Sukkos, one for water. Some of the early commentators understand that they were right next to each other so they would not be confused, although that makes it difficult to understand the Gemara’s statement that both basins, the one for water and the one for wine, turned black because the contents got mixed. What was different about the two basins? The opening at the bottom of the water basin was smaller than the one in the wine basin. Why? Because water flows faster than wine. Not like our wine today, which is like water—

38:42 Speaker 2 some slightly processed water—but real wine, which is somewhat thicker. So the wine needed a slightly larger opening. It is an adornment for the altar that the water and wine descend at the same rate. Notice what a detail that is: what we pour into the basins should be seen to descend at the same rate. Who even sees it? Only the kohanim pouring the libations. Yet this, too, has to be done with the greatest precision. It shows how much attention is paid to every detail in the Beis Hamikdash. Later authorities point to evidence in the words of our Sages that they would plug the openings—put something into both openings—during the libation, so that what they poured into the basins would overflow, showing the abundance present in the Beis Hamikdash. One of the authorities who comments on this says it is not obligatory, but it certainly adds to the beauty of the altar when it can be seen. In the time of the Beis Hamikdash there was also a large heap called the tapuach, made up of what remained from the limbs consumed on the altar. It says that during the festivals there was a truly enormous heap there, and that was considered an adornment for the altar. Why was it an adornment? The Jewish people are engaged with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, serving Him. They bring processions of offerings; there is constant activity, a constant connection with the Creator. That is an adornment for the altar. The altar symbolizes the attribute of malchus and connection with the Creator, attachment to the Creator. The Creator, as it were, comes down below and seeks to engage with and bestow influence upon the worlds. The altar is the vessel that gathers all the blood and everything brought to it. We want to see that this altar is active, working for the benefit of the Jewish people. So our kohanim go up to the altar. The Mishnah says that for only three things do they turn left. All your turns should be

40:32 Speaker 2 But to the right. It says that one should turn right, so there will be blessing, except for three things. What are those three? Wine, water, and a bird brought as a burnt offering. Why? The wine would have to pass the great flame of the large fire on its way around the altar, and it would become smoky and unfit for use. The same goes for the water: if it passed there, we would have smoky water. We might have Earl Grey, but it would no longer be water fit for the libation. These have to be pure and consecrated. And the bird brought as a burnt offering simply would not survive it. It would arrive at the altar dead, and then we could not offer it. So for these three things, instead of turning right and going around the fires on the altar, we turn left. But then we pause and bring proofs, of course, from the verses, the Gemara, Tosafos, and other sources, and say: No, we do something else. We send the kohen who merited the great privilege of performing the libation around the altar. He really does make the circuit, and we wait for him on the other side and simply hand him the water there. That way, he has also fulfilled the rule that all your turns should be to the right, and he has not turned left. Yet in a sense he has turned left: what he went around for was handed to him from the left. That is one of the approaches of the Rishonim to reconcile the rule that all your turns should be to the right with the Mishnah, which says that only for these things do we turn left. In other words, we do not actually turn left; we hand them to the person who turned and made the circuit, from his left. In any case, we now have two kohanim standing at the southwestern corner, the side of the ramp according to most diagrams. We have two basins at the top of the altar. According to a very small minority of later authorities, those basins were set into the corner itself, because this

42:31 Speaker 2 really does not work. According to most opinions about how the altar was built—and there are various opinions—the altar was made like a concrete pour. An actual concrete pour. Someone who looks at a poured-concrete structure today would find that the materials and methods used to cast the altar are very reminiscent of it. They took large boards, stood them up, and filled the whole area, making something like a large sandbox. Into that they poured the first layer. That is called the foundation. On top of it they poured the surrounding ledge, and on top of that they poured the upper section. Each level was an amah smaller on every side, producing the altar we know, that complex structure of three blocks stacked one on top of another. So the basins were on the upper part. Well, with this poured structure, how did the water descend into the shittin below? While they were casting the altar, they held two rods in place. Those rods made holes in the material, and when they finished casting it, they simply pulled out the wooden rods. That left holes running all the way down to the shittin. The basins were aligned with those holes, which descend to the depths beneath the altar. And what do we do now? We have two kohanim, and as we said, the beauty of it is that we pour the wine and the water together, and the water descends at the same rate as the wine. So the official, the man with the cloths—at one period he was called Ben Arza—waves them as a signal. Once again, there is a commotion in the courtyard: something momentous is happening. And then the kohanim pour. It is a sort of double movement: they lean forward a little so nothing spills, but at the same time there is the instruction, “Raise your hand!” Once, you see, they stopped someone because he poured it at his feet, and there was an incident. After that, they instituted a rule that he must pour from above, so people could see that he was really pouring the water into the basin and not somewhere else. And then we see two streams descending into the basins. The kohanim aim them, thank G-d, and they flow down, while all the people are filled with great excitement. At that time the Levi’im are already playing the song of the day. We will talk shortly about what that song is. And the kohanim begin, immediately after the libation, to burn the limbs that were in the middle of the altar on the large fire. There, too, they arrange the limbs so that each one being burned looks, on the large fire, like a complete offering—as though it had just been cut and brought intact to the fire. There is a spiritual idea here as well: that we should ascend to Hashem whole. On a pilgrimage festival, as we said, every Jewish man brings three offerings, and these offerings have to come from non-consecrated funds. Anything we are obligated to bring has to be paid for with non-consecrated funds. That means that if I am obligated to bring an offering, it cannot be paid for with tithes or with charity someone gave me. It has to come from my own non-consecrated money, which I earned and am now putting toward that obligation. When I need to buy something for a mitzvah, I cannot use charity money; I have to use my own money, money I could also spend on other things. That is the rule for an obligatory offering: every obligatory offering has to come from non-consecrated funds. Why am I telling you this? Because we have the olas re’iyah, the burnt offering brought when appearing at the Beis Hamikdash. As we said, it can be a male from the cattle or the flock—a bull, a ram, or a lamb—and this burnt offering

44:39 Speaker 2 must be paid for entirely with non-consecrated funds. This offering, called the olas re’iyah, which I am obligated to bring because I am a man and must appear in the courtyard, may be brought on Yom Tov. That is, if Yom Tov falls on a weekday—on a Monday, say, and not on Shabbos—the olas re’iyah may be brought on Yom Tov itself. If it falls on Shabbos, it may not be brought then; only on Yom Tov. The shalmei chagigah may also be brought on Yom Tov. Since the shalmei chagigah is also an obligatory offering, it too must be paid for entirely with non-consecrated funds. Why? Because it is an offering one is obligated to bring, and it is a shelamim offering that may be eaten for two days and one night. The exception is the chagigah of the fourteenth, brought on Pesach to be eaten before the Pesach offering so that it is eaten when one is satisfied; that has a special rule. But generally, the shalmei chagigah of all three pilgrimage festivals—including on Pesach itself—must be eaten for two days and one night, as is the rule for shelamim. There is another offering called the korban simchah. Since we have the mitzvah “You shall rejoice on your festival,” I am obligated to bring that too from non-consecrated funds. But what is distinctive about it? The first kezayis—an olive-sized portion—has to come from non-consecrated funds. Say the offering costs two hundred shekels. You have to work out how much its first kezayis costs—let us say five shekels. Those five shekels have to come from non-consecrated funds, but the rest of the cost, the other hundred and ninety-five shekels in this example, can come from tithe money. In other words, if I bring a shalmei simchah offering for myself, my wife, and every adult in my household, the first kezayis—or two olive-sized portions, an egg-sized amount—must be paid for with non-consecrated funds. The rest of its cost can be covered by tithe money. But the shalmei simchah may not be brought on Yom Tov, and certainly not on Shabbos. These are the offerings we bring on every festival.

46:24 Speaker 2 All of it must come from non-sacred funds. This korban, called the olas re’iyah, which I’m obligated to bring because I’m a man and must appear in the courtyard of the Beis Hamikdash, overrides Yom Tov. In other words, if Yom Tov falls on a weekday—say, Monday, not Shabbos—you can bring the olas re’iyah on Yom Tov itself. If it falls on Shabbos, it does not override Shabbos; it overrides only Yom Tov. The shalmei chagigah also override Yom Tov. Since the shalmei chagigah are also an obligatory korban, all of them must likewise come from non-sacred funds. Why? Because it’s a korban one is obligated to bring. It is a shelamim offering, eaten over two days and the intervening night. The exception is the chagigah of the 14th of Nissan, brought on Pesach so that the Pesach offering can be eaten when one is already satisfied; it has a special rule. But in general, the shalmei chagigah of all three festivals—even on Pesach itself—must be eaten over two days and the intervening night, as is the rule for shelamim. There is another korban called the shalmei simchah. Since we have the mitzvah “You shall rejoice on your festival,” I must bring it from non-sacred funds too. But what is distinctive about it? The first olive-sized portion must come from non-sacred funds. In other words, if the korban costs, for example, 200 shekels, you work out the cost of that first olive-sized portion—say, five shekels. Those five shekels must come from non-sacred funds, but the rest of the cost, the remaining 195 shekels in this example, can come from maaser funds. So if I bring a shalmei simchah offering, for myself, my wife, and every adult in my household, I must pay for the first olive-sized portion—or two olive-sized portions, an egg-sized amount—from non-sacred funds. The rest of its cost can come from maaser funds. But the shalmei simchah do not override Yom Tov, and certainly not Shabbos. These are the korbanos we bring on every festival.

48:12 Speaker 2 The mitzvah of lulav in the Beis Hamikdash. So in the Beis Hamikdash we have the four species. What is special there is that the four species are taken even on Shabbos. There was another special practice in the Beis Hamikdash, one that actually came before our taking the lulav there. We’ll soon understand exactly how we take it, but this is something very special. There were aravos, willow branches—the same aravah that we strike on Hoshana Rabbah. Every day they brought these branches to the altar and stood them beside it, positioned so that they extended a little above it. That means they were at least eight cubits tall, four and a half or five meters, depending on where they started, and had to rise one cubit, half a meter, above the altar. This was not in the time of Moshe Rabbeinu, of course, but they say that since the Beis Hamikdash existed in the time of the prophets, they would strike these branches every day. So what was the procedure each day? On the eve of Sukkos, agents of the beis din would go down to Motza. Some say Motza just means traffic jams, but Motza was a beautiful place with strong streams, where very large, beautiful willow branches grew, and those were the ones they brought to the altar. So on the eve of Yom Tov, the agents of the beis din would head toward Motza and cut the branches there. Cutting them is, of course, reaping, and since this is not for food preparation, it is forbidden on Yom Tov. They brought them to the Beis Hamikdash, put them down, washed them, of course, arranged them, and checked that they really rose above the altar. Then they stood the branches upright after the morning tamid offering, according to one view, of course. They took the branches and stood them on the altar’s base. According to that view, they needed to be only

50:31 Speaker 2 eight cubits tall, because from the base to the top of the altar is eight cubits, a little over four meters. Or they stood them on the floor of the courtyard. What if they could not find branches in Motza, or anywhere else, that reached that height? Then they would place them on the ledge around the altar, so the branches only needed to be two or two and a half meters tall, since they still had to extend above the altar. Or, in the worst case, they would simply take branches one cubit tall and stand them on top of the altar itself. In any case, there was a mitzvah to take an aravah. In the morning they would strike and shake it, then stand it on top of the altar. With it they would perform all the songs and the offering, to display the beauty and splendor of the altar. As we said, in all these cases they would not do two things at once. So they did not stand up the branches while something else important was happening in the Beis Hamikdash, so the moments of excitement there would not compete with one another. After they had finished standing up the branches and offering the sacrifices, through the Musaf offering, the Jewish people would take some of those branches. According to quite a few views, they would take and shake them as they did for the mitzvah of lulav. This was a separate mitzvah performed every day of Sukkos. If the seventh day—the time of Hoshana Rabbah—were to fall on Shabbos, well, we arranged our fixed calendar so that Hoshana Rabbah can never fall on Shabbos. Why? So that we can always strike the aravos. But in the Beis Hamikdash, they would prepare the aravah that was brought to the altar on the eve of Hoshana Rabbah, meaning Friday of Sukkos, and then

52:41 Speaker 2 they would stand it up and have it ready at the altar. That was before Shabbos, and then on Shabbos itself they would bring it beside the altar. What would they do? They would take part of that aravah and shake it. Afterward—only afterward—they would circle the altar. What does it mean to circle the altar? There are several views. First, some of the Rishonim hold that Jews who were not kohanim certainly would not enter the kohanim’s courtyard unless it was necessary for a mitzvah, and circling the altar did not count as such a mitzvah. So they gave their four species to the kohanim, and the kohanim took each person’s four species and circled the altar. I don’t want to think about the logistics there, right? With a million Jews arriving, each one saying, “Wait, no, that’s my lulav! What are you talking about?” Anyway, I don’t know, but that is what it says. They took each person’s four species, circled the altar once—which meant passing between the Sanctuary building and the altar, an especially sacred area—and returned them there on the eastern side, in the Israelites’ courtyard, to the Jew who had given them. Another view says no, of course this is a mitzvah, and the Jews themselves circle the altar. Within that view there is a further disagreement: all right, they circle it, but do they go between the Sanctuary building and the altar? That is an exceptionally sacred place. One opinion says no, it is not too sacred for this: Jews may enter that area and circle the altar, because they are performing a mitzvah, not just entering for no reason. In the time of the Beis Hamikdash, a Jew who came to perform a mitzvah could enter any part of the courtyard where he needed to be for that purpose. Our usual place is the Israelites’ courtyard. In the Third Beis Hamikdash it is seventeen cubits—about seven and a half meters. That is not much, not really

54:31 Speaker 2 much space for us to do things in. But if, for example, we need to place our hands on our sin offering, we are permitted to approach the area called the north side of the altar, place our hands on the offering, confess over it, say, “I have sinned, I have done wrong, I have transgressed,” quietly, [unclear], and then return to the Israelites’ courtyard. That is entering for a purpose and is completely permitted; there is no question about it. So when necessary, Jews enter the courtyard and go wherever they need to be. How, then, do they circle the altar? We mentioned two views: in one, the Jew hands his four species to a kohen, who circles it for him. In the second, the Jew circles it himself. But within that second view, some say that although the Jew circles the altar, he goes only as far as the area between the Sanctuary building and the altar. There, the kohen completes that part of the circuit and returns the four species to him afterward. The Jew does not enter the western side of the altar; it is too sacred. Another view says they do not walk around it at all, but simply stand around the altar. That too is called circling, because ultimately everyone surrounds it and shakes the four species, and however it is done, they perform the mitzvah of lulav there. If Sukkos falls on Shabbos, as we said, they do circle the altar, shake the lulav in the Beis Hamikdash, and the Jews enter the Beis Hamikdash. So what do they do? The Gemara relates that they brought their lulavim to the Beis Hamikdash before Shabbos. There was a platform there, and they took care of them—but there were quarrels and pushing, to the point of danger. In any case, they brought them before Shabbos, and on Shabbos itself they shook them inside the Beis Hamikdash. And that completes this tremendous mitzvah of being in the Beis Hamikdash, of drawing the great encompassing light of the Beis Hamikdash into our inner, lower selves. May we merit to do this speedily in our days, truly. Amen. So the mitzvah of

56:32 Speaker 2 The obligation to take the lulav for seven days applied only in the Beis Hamikdash, when it stood. Today, an ordinance requires us to take the lulav on all seven days of Sukkos. In practice, only on the first day are we obligated by the Torah to take the lulav outside the Beis Hamikdash; in the Beis Hamikdash, the Torah obligated them to take it throughout the week. So only there did they have the opportunity to fulfill the Torah obligation of taking the lulav for all seven days. But here [unclear] introduces a new point: someone who reaches the area of the Temple Mount—and this has practical implications for us today, because some people do go up to the Temple Mount—must take the lulav on Sukkos. For him, it is not voluntary; he is now obligated by the Torah. More than that, if he took the lulav elsewhere and then went up to the Temple Mount, he may need to take it again, because he has entered a different category of Torah obligation, one that obligates him to take the lulav again, this time on the Temple Mount. That is something we need to remember about taking the lulav. This is also connected to what the Rebbe said in 1967: not to be in the Jerusalem area on Erev Pesach. If a person had reached the point where the obligation applied—he was already within the area from Modi’in inward—he would become obligated to bring a korban, but could not bring it because we have no altar. So the Rebbe gave people explicit instructions during the brief time, regrettably brief, when the Temple Mount was in our hands, because there was then a Torah obligation to bring the korban. In any case, someone who chooses to go up to the Temple Mount on Sukkos should know that he is placing himself under a special obligation concerning the mitzvah of

58:31 Speaker 2 lulav. One last thing: Shemini Atzeres is a continuation of Sukkos. The Gemara says that it is distinct in certain respects, while in others it is connected to the festival, so the rejoicing continues on that day. Many things continue on Shemini Atzeres. The korban of Shemini Atzeres is exactly like the korban of Rosh Hashanah: one bull, one ram, seven lambs and one goat—that is the musaf offering. So Shemini Atzeres is a special day, connected to Sukkos and bringing it to a close. “My children, stay with Me one more day.” And that developed into what we have: outside the Land of Israel, the day after Shemini Atzeres is Simchas Torah, while for us it is all one day. So here in the Land of Israel, too, a person who was in Jerusalem on Shemini Atzeres and had brought his korban could still bring the festive peace offerings. It is no longer the festival proper, so it is distinct in that respect, but he could certainly bring the offerings for the rejoicing of the festival. He is not obligated in the pilgrimage appearance offering. At that time, he would have to stay overnight for one more night. That is the rule for every korban brought to the Beis Hamikdash: whenever a person brings a korban there, he must spend the night in Jerusalem and draw all that holiness into himself. So, with Hashem’s help, may this come to pass speedily in our days, amen. May we merit to see all that great rejoicing very, very soon.