What's in a Name?
- Mizbach Hachitzona (outer altar)
- Mizbach Adamah
(earthen altar)
- Mizbach Hagedola (large altar)
- Mizbach Ha'olah (burnt
offering altar)
These are the names used to describe the Mizbe'ach (altar) in the main courtyard.
But let us not forget that there was another
Mizbe'ach inside the Heichal. Its name was...
- Mizbach Hazahav (golden altar)
- Mizbach Hap'nimi (inner altar)
- Mizbach Haketoros (incense altar).
There were only two altars in the Temple,
but the variety of names attached to each could lead to confusion.
So now you know.
The Ramps
The main ramp to the top of the Mizbe'ach
(altar) was as long as the Mizbe'ach itself (thirty-two Amos). Since the
height to which it rose was ten Amos, the ratio of elevation must have
been about one to three. Not such a steep climb.
It couldn't have taken much time to walk
up either (let's say, thirty seconds). Nevertheless, to the west
of the main ramp, was a smaller ramp leading down to the south west corner
of the Mizbe'ach.
Why? For no other reason than to speed
up a priest's trip from the top. If, while carrying a vessel of blood
in his hands, he could walk more directly to the bottom corner, he would
save about thirty seconds.
Why should we care? Because the blood
he was carrying had to be poured over the corner of the Mizbe'ach before
it
coagulated (dried). Apparently, blood, when exposed to air, will
coagulate quite quickly. Hence, the concern for speed.
Besides the main ramp and its small companion,
there were two others leading from the top of the Sovev (ledge) to mid-way
down the main ramp on either side of the Mizbe'ach. Why? So
that a priest who had to walk around the ledge to place blood on the required
Keranos (corners) wouldn't have to turn around and retrace his steps in
such a narrow space; he could keep going and descend on the other side.
Just think of it these priests had
to walk at considerable heights (six to ten Amos) along ledges less than
two feet wide -all while balancing vessels filled with blood. It
must have taken some skill - and nerve.
As you might have noticed from the picture,
there was a wide gap at the point where the main ramp met the top of the Mizbe'ach. The gap (according to some opinions) was eight Amos long
(from north to south), more than one Amah wide (east to west) and quite
deep. What a place to stick a trench!
Its real purpose, we are told, was to allow
a priest to throw sacrificial limbs from the ramp onto the (top) of the
Mizbe'ach. "Throwing" requires empty space above which to throw.
The empty space had to fall all the way to the Yesod. If the gap was any
narrower, the ledge of the Sovev would get in the way.
According to Tosafos (Pesachim 77a) the gap
was not actually needed to fulfill the Mitzva of "throwing" the sacrifices,
but as a reminder to throw...
The Roof
Even though the Yesod (base) of the Mizbe'ach
was thirty-two by thirty-two Amos, the actual distance from one side of
the roof to the other was twenty-eight by twenty-eight Amos. This was because the
Sovev was one Amah smaller in every direction, and the top portion - Ma'aracha
- another Amah again.
The outer two Amos on each side were taken
up by a slightly depressed walkway for the priests and one-Amah cubes at
each corner (the Keranos). That left twenty-four
by twenty-four Amos for real business. In that space
were (under normal circumstances) three wood piles. One, the biggest,
was for the actual burning of sacrifices. Coals from the second Ma'aracha
were used for the incense and the third was an eternal flame.
In the center of the Ma'aracha, rising above
the woodpiles, was the huge Tapuach - a smooth hemisphere of ash.
The ashes from burnt offerings were packed into this round shape after
a day's service. The size of the pile gave witness to the willingness
of the Jewish people to give of themselves and their possessions for their
G-d.
It was from this Tapuach, that the Kohen would
take a small shovel-full of ash every morning as part of the Mitzva of
"Trumos Hadeshen." He would dig into the pile, choosing ash from
its center, then take his now-full shovel to deposit its contents on the
floor next to the main ramp.
This Mitzva, in all its detail, is the will
of G-d. As to its reasons, we can only guess, but the fact remains that
our Creator wants us to do it. How fortunate we are that we can serve
G-d for no reason other than that He wills it!
On Hashana Rabba (the last day of the festival
of Succos), giant Aravos (willow branches like you never saw!) were brought
into the courtyard and placed on the ground next to the Mizbe'ach, their
heads draped over the top of the Ma'aracha. These branches (after just
a little math...) had to have measured close to thirty feet long!
Our custom of buying (for inflated prices),
and later carrying, bunches of Aravos on Hoshana Rabba is a reflection of
this most ancient Temple custom.
Fire-Proof Plaster
We are told that the altar was given two coats
of white lime yearly. Once before Passover and once before Succos.
Thus, the Ma'arachos (wood piles) must have been sitting on a roof of stone,
covered by a thin layer of plaster.
The woodpiles were burning pretty much constantly
for years (as long as four hundred years, in fact). The temperature
of the fires must have been quite high - as at least one of them was called
upon to incinerate whole animals...and you need more than a pair of Shabbos
candles to do that!
Now think about this. The tremendous
heat of the fires never caused a crack in the stone (nor, presumably, in
the plaster with which it was coated). It couldn't have, because
a crack would have flawed the whole structure - making it unfit for use.
Some commentators point out that this must have
been one of the greatest miracles of the Temple!
Deadly Esrogim
The altar (Mizbe'ach - described by the sages
as G-d's instrument for prolonging men's lives) was once the scene of a
bizarre execution...
In the last years of the Second Temple, the
position of high priest was a political appointment rather than the office
of the most capable and G-d fearing man available. The priest with the
best connections in Rome was the one who could beg, bribe, and steal his way into the job. More often than
not, in those chaotic final years, the high priest was a member of the
heretical (and doomed) sect called the Tzaddukim
(Sadduces).
The Tzaddukim had their own twisted way of
performing many of the Temple practices. They denied some of the Mitzvos
altogether. Among the more famous Mitzvos that they denied was the Mitzva of Nissuch Hamayim
(water libation - performed during the festival of Succos).
To show his contempt for this Mitzva, one
particular high priest poured the water over his feet, rather than into
the drains located at the south-west corner of the altar's top.
To show their contempt for a Saduducee high
priest, the people pelted him with their Esrogim (citrons), killing him.
It was a great idea. There was only one
problem: the thousands of Esrogim (and perhaps stones as well) that rained
down on the altar actually wore down the sharpness of the corner - making the whole
structure Halachically unfit for use. (see Yoma 48b)
The Tzaddukim
Like the Karaites of a thousand years ago, the
Tzaddukim (Sadduces) ionly claimed a belief in the written half of the Torah
(the Tanach). They rejected the inseparable explanation of the Oral
Torah, now known as the Talmud; the Mishna and its commentary,
the Gemara. The Tzaddukim strove to draw a body of religious law from
the sparse words of Pentateuch alone.
This brought them to such curious practices
as literal "justice" - one who had poked out another's eye would lose his
in "exchange."
But it was neither dogma nor faith that drove
the Tzaddukim. While one might argue that the movement's founders
(students of Tzaddok - see Rashi on the Mishna, Avos 1, 3) had some sort
of ideological agenda, the group's rank and file were of a different sort.
Before the death of the Hellenist movement
(coinciding, as it did, with the Maccabees' victory over the Greeks), Tzaddukim
could claim neither influence, power, nor any great following. Suddenly,
seemingly out of nowhere, sprang a powerful class of committed, card-carrying
Tzaddukim. Where on earth did they come from?
Let's ask another question: What happened
to the masses of Hellenized (Greek loving) Jews when the Greek empire fell
before the miraculous Maccabee army? The odds are that your average Hellenist
on the street would have had to reassess his lifestyle and beliefs (much
like the Russian Communists in recent years).
"Maybe there's something false about a man-centered
universe," he might think. "Maybe the Torah is true..."
But this would-be repentant had two strikes
against him:
- He had no real knowledge of Judaism. As a third-generation Hellenist, he probably couldn't even read Hebrew.
There was no one to teach him - as Torah Jews had long since learned
to stay away from these dangerous and unpredictable people. It literally
wasn't even safe for a "Pharasee" to live in the same neighborhood as a
Hellenist.
- He didn't really want to become more religious.
Deep down inside, he probably still liked the Greek lifestyle. He
knew he had to make some change in his religious life, but he also
had a need to keep the religion "within bounds;" so that it wouldn't interfere
so much with "the real world."
So along come the Tzaddukim like knights in
shining armor. With them, you could be outwardly religious (even
annoyingly so, in a whining, missionary sort of way) yet still enjoy all
the pleasures of this world.
It is very possible that out of the masses
of Jewish Hellenists, many attached themselves to the Tzaddukim after the
demise of Greece.
The Oral Law
So why can't you take the written text of the
Bible literally - after all, wasn't the Torah meant to be understood?
Would G-d have given us a book that misleads the casual reader?
The answer to both questions is - "yes".
Yes, the Torah was meant to be understood
- but not by the casual reader.
The casual reader will read, for example,
the story of Shimshon (Samson - see Shoftim, ch. 13) and form a picture
of a headstrong, lustful fool who can't keep himself out of trouble.
By luck, he manages to bring down a whole crowd of the bad guys as his
last act...
The casual reader will read about "an eye
for an eye" and draw some obvious conclusions.
The Oral Torah (Torah Sheba'al Peh) however,
portrays Shimshon as a careful, calculating (though perhaps imperfect)
Torah scholar who did just what he had to in order to save his people -
both physically and spiritually (for much more on the subject, see Rabbi
G. Weiss' "Samson's Struggle").
The Oral Torah shows us how the Torah could
not possibly have wanted us to take "an eye for an eye."
But it's not only that the Oral Law sometimes
provides deeper understanding the truth is that many parts of Pentateuch
and the Prophets are inexplicable without it.
Take for example the Mitzva of kosher slaughter.
The written Torah tells us to slaughter animals "the way I commanded you"
(Deut. 12, 21). The problem is, that if you go through the entire
book from front to back there is absolutely no further reference to the
laws of slaughter. Where, then, did "I command you"?
Just look at the verses concerning Tefillin,
Tzitzis or Esrogim and see if it makes any sense at all without the Oral
Torah to guide you. Now you have a choice.
Either the Torah was written by some fool (G-d forbid) who couldn't remember
what he'd written just a few pages ago, or that the written Torah is simply
a table of contents to some greater, more comprehensive, work. Which
do you think is more likely?
Why, however, did G-d leave the real meat
of His Torah out of its written text? I don't claim to have the last
word on the subject (who am I to put words in the mouth of the Creator
of the universe?), but the following possibility comes to mind.
Whatever was written down eventually became
the "property" of anyone, anywhere who could read. Tanach became
the "Bible." So that the central part of the Torah should remain
solely in the hands of the Jews (our treasure), it was kept oral - in effect,
its mastery was limited to those who had contact with a teacher. (see Droshos
Bais Halevy 18).
The Stairs to the Ulam (Antechamber)
Between the western edge of the altar and the door to the Ulam (the antechamber
to the Heichal) lay a flight of stairs stretching 22 Amos from east to
west and rising six Amos from the floor. According to the Tiferes
Yisrael, these stairs covered the whole eastern face of the Heichal. (Sound
confusing? Why don't you just take a look at the picture?)
In fact, there was only one amah of level
floor to the west of the altar (the largest space
was the slaughterhouse to the north). After
that Amah, the first of the twelve stairs rose its half Amah and pushed
west a full Amah. All the stairs in the Temple, the Mishna
tells us, were one half an Amah high and half an Amah deep except for these.
Here, there were four flights of three stairs each
with a landing of either three or four Amos between each flight.
Built into one of the landings was the Kiyor .
On the top landing (which was level with the floor
of the Heichal), on each side of the huge door to the Ulam, was an eighteen-Amah
high column. One was called Yachin and the other, Boaz. Yachin,
after the Davidic dynasty which is constantly "prepared" (Muchan) to return,
and Boaz, after David's great-grandfather, Ruth's husband.
The Slaughterhouse
Stretching from the northern wall of the altar
to within a few Amos of the northern wall of the courtyard, was an open
area known as the Bais Hamitbachayaim (slaughterhouse). This was
the main (for want of a better expression) meat processing center of the
Temple.
It was here that most of the animals destined
for the altar were slaughtered (Kodshei Kedoshim - the sacrifices with
the highest level of sanctity - were required to be slaughtered only in
this area). And it was in this open space that most animals were
skinned and prepared for their actual being offered.
There were twenty-four metal rings anchored
in the floor through which the heads of live animals were drawn in order
to secure them for slaughter. Beyond the rings were eight marble
tables on which carcasses were opened and their fats and entrails removed.
Beyond these tables were eight marble pillars with cubes of wood on top.
Protruding from the cubes were nine pegs used for hanging carcasses while
working on particularly busy days (this was for the overflow from the tables).
The Mishna in Avos (5, 5) mentions one of
the miracles of the Temple Despite the raw meat getting older in
the hot, Israeli sun and the gallons of blood spilled all over the floor,
no fly was ever seen in the area of the slaughterhouse. This, we
are told, was in honor of the holy work of the altar!
The Kiyor
The Kiyor (urn) was the water vessel from which
the priests washed their hands and feet before any work. You might
remember where Rashi in Chumash (Exod. 38, 8) tells us how the Kiyor in
the tabernacle was made of the mirrors used by our holy mothers while enslaved
in Egypt.
Originally, the Kiyor in the Temple was built
with two spigots - one from the top half and one from the bottom (for use
later in the day when the water level was lower). As the demand
grew, ten more spigots were added on the bottom.
Predictably, at the end of an average day,
there would be some water left over. If it was left out in the Kiyor
overnight, this water would become unfit for its use. Therefore, it would have to be thrown out.
As that would have involved a perceived indignity,
a man named Ben Katin (Yoma 37a) invented the Muchani (water
well) into which the Kiyor was lowered nightly. Being submerged
overnight in a "living" well, the water in the Kiyor was just as fit for
use the next morning as it had been the day before.
Rabbi Boruch Clinton teaches at the Ottawa Torah Institute yeshiva high
school and Machon Sarah high school for girls (both in Ottawa, Canada).
You may reach him with comments and questions at
bclinton@torah.org.
You can now read some of Rabbi Clinton's essays on Torah life at
http://www.ncf.ca/~es625/essays
You can also buy his collection of essays on
the Book of Shmuel (Samuel) in printed form at
www.lulu.com/marbitzmedia
Copyright © 2000 by Rabbi
Boruch
Clinton and Project Genesis, Inc.
