The Talmud Yerushalmi (Yoma 39a) tells of Shimon HaTzaddik, the noted Kohen Gadol in the period of the Second Temple, who served in that capacity for forty years. In his final year, the Yerushalmi relates, Shimon informed people that he would not live until the next Yom Kippur. He explained that each year, on Yom Kippur, when he entered the Kodesh HaKodashim, the inner chamber of the Beis HaMikdash, to perform the special Yom Kippur service, there was an elderly man who escorted him into and then out of the chamber. That year, however, the man joined him inside the Kodesh HaKodashim, but did not walk out with him. This indicated to Shimon HaTzaddik that this would be his final Yom Kippur, which it indeed was.
The Yerushalmi raises the question of how it was possible for this to happen. The Torah (Vayikra 16:17) explicitly states that it is forbidden for any person to join the Kohen Gadol in the Beis HaMikdash as he performs the Yom Kippur service. And, the Yerushalmi adds, this prohibition applies not only to human beings, but even to angels. They, too, are not permitted to be present in the Beis HaMikdash during the Yom Kippur service. How, then, was this mysterious man allowed to escort Shimon HaTzaddik into and out of the sanctuary? The Yerushalmi answers that this figure was, in truth, not a man at all, but rather a representation of the Almighty Himself, who personally escorted Shimon HaTzaddik.
Why is it forbidden for anybody — including angels — to be present in the Beis HaMikdash at this time?
Rav Moshe Twersky, hy”d, explained that when the Kohen Gadol entered the Kodesh HaKodashim on Yom Kippur, this was a precious moment of love and intimacy between Hashem and Am Yisrael. It was a private meeting comparable to the yichud room at a wedding, where the bride and groom spend some time together alone for the very first time. No one would think to enter the yichud room and disrupt these special moments of intimacy. By the same token, Rav Twersky said, the Torah forbids even the angels from disrupting the special moments of intimacy when the Kohen Gadol enters the inner chamber of the Beis HaMikdash on Yom Kippur.
As we’ve mentioned previously, Shabbos is, at least in some sense, more sacred than Yom Kippur. This is reflected in the number of aliyos called to the Torah on these days: on Yom Kippur we call up six aliyos, whereas on Shabbos we call up seven. The number of aliyos signifies the day’s level of sanctity, as evidenced by the fact that on ordinary weekdays when the Torah is read (Monday and Thursday), we call up just three aliyos, and on Rosh Chodesh and Chol HaMoed, which have a level of kedushah, we call up four aliyos. The next level is Yom Tov, when we have five aliyos, and then Yom Kippur and Shabbos, as mentioned. Thus, Shabbos is a moment of special closeness and affection between us and Hashem, no less than Yom Kippur. Shabbos, too, is a time when we enter the “yichud room,” as it were, with the Almighty, to enjoy a time of special closeness when we are singularly focused on one another, just like a newlywed bride and groom.
On this basis Rav Twersky answered the question that many have asked concerning the Shalom Aleichem zemer that is traditionally sung on Friday night. In this song, we welcome the angels that accompany us home from the synagogue on Friday night, and we then ask them to bless us. This request is based upon the Gemara’s comment that when the angels see that our homes are properly prepared in honor of Shabbos, they grant us their blessing. Surprisingly, however, immediately after we ask the angels for their blessing, we bid them farewell — tzeischem l’shalom. Although some people omit this final stanza, and others change the text to b’tzeischem, the prevalent custom is to recite tzeischem, as though we right away ask the angels to leave. Is it not discourteous to ask the angels to leave immediately after we have welcomed them and asked for their blessing?
Rav Twersky answered that Friday night, like Yom Kippur, is a time of special closeness with Hashem, when we are together with Him in the “yichud room,” so to speak. Just as in the Beis HaMikdash on Yom Kippur, no one — not even the angels — may be present and disrupt this intimate moment. Indeed, the Midrash (Shemos Rabbah 25:11) comments that non-Jews are forbidden from observing Shabbos, because Shabbos is the Jewish people’s private meeting with G-d. The Midrash explicitly compares the Shabbos experience to a private meeting between a king and his queen. Just as no one would dare come between them during their private moment, similarly, other nations are not allowed to disrupt the Jewish nation’s moment of intimacy with the Almighty.
This special time of intimacy that we enjoy with Hashem each week reflects our special stature, which exceeds even that of the angels. The Gemara (Shabbos 88b) tells that when Moshe ascended to the heavens to receive the Torah, the angels protested, and they turned to G-d and said, “What is a mortal doing among us?” They insisted that the holy Torah belonged in the heavens, and not among flawed human beings. Moshe, however, argued that to the contrary, the Torah belongs on earth, not in the heavens. Unlike the angels, human beings experience sinful tendencies and temptations. When we resist our yetzer hara, our evil inclination, and observe the mitzvos, we become even greater than the angels. And thus specifically we deserve the Torah, and specifically we deserve Shabbos, the period of special closeness with Hashem. We, who overcome our challenges and remain steadfastly committed to G-d’s laws despite the difficulty this entails, deserve the experience of Shabbos.
This point was, in fact, at the center of the argument between Moshe and the angels. The Binah L’Ittim notes that the angels asked G-d when they saw Moshe in the heavens, “What is a mortal doing among us?” They claimed that Moshe had no right to disrupt their closeness with G-d. Moshe responded that to the contrary — it is Bnei Yisrael, and not the angels, who earn this special closeness by having to struggle with our innate imperfections and negative tendencies to follow G-d’s laws.
This explains why the angels visit us specifically in our homes, and not in the synagogue. Our superiority over the angels is expressed in the home, when we eat and drink and engage in ordinary, mundane affairs on an elevated plane, in the manner prescribed by the Torah. When we pray and withdraw from physical life, we resemble the angels, but when we engage in physical activities in a refined, spiritual manner, we earn a stature that exceeds that of the angels. This is another reason why the sanctity of Shabbos is greater than the sanctity of Yom Kippur. Whereas on Yom Kippur we become angelic, withdrawing from mundane, physical activities, on Shabbos we achieve something even loftier: elevating our physical activities to a higher plane. And thus the angels come to our homes every Shabbos and marvel at the way we are able to conduct ordinary, human life on a lofty, spiritual plane. They are then forced to concede that we are superior to them, and so they grant us their blessing. We then feel justified in sending them out of our homes so we can enjoy the privacy and intimacy with Hashem that we, and only we, rightly deserve.
Moreover, the Gemara states that after Moshe defeated the angels with his argument, the angels conceded defeat and gave Moshe gifts. On Shabbos, too, when the angels visit our homes and see that we elevate the physical realm, something that they are incapable of doing, they concede defeat, so to speak, and grant us their special blessing as a gift. As the Torah was given on Shabbos, each Shabbos we receive these gifts anew, as we reaffirm our superiority over the angels by elevating our physical lives and infusing them with kedushah.
Interestingly, there was one other occasion when the angels voiced a complaint to G-d — when He decided to create man. Tradition teaches that the angels protested this decision, arguing that human beings, who are dishonest, selfish, and fickle, do not deserve to exist. Every year, on Rosh Hashanah, the anniversary of the creation of man, we defeat the angels anew, by being allowed to continue existing; and every Shavuos, when we receive the Torah, we again defeat the angels’ objection to Moshe at Sinai. Shabbos combines these two triumphs. Shabbos is the commemoration and testimony of the world’s creation, and is also the day of Matan Torah. Hence, we might say that Shabbos marks a weekly celebration of our triumph over the angels. G-d sends them down to see how we elevate our earthly existence, and they must then concede that they were wrong, and that it was worthwhile for Hashem to create mankind and to give Bnei Yisrael the Torah. And thus Shabbos is the mekor haberachah, the source of all blessing, because it is the day when the angels, who opposed our creation and then opposed our receiving the Torah, have no choice but to recognize our superiority and grant us their blessing.
This insight should enhance our appreciation for the special quality of Shabbos and for the extraordinary opportunity it provides. It is a period in which we spend time in the “yichud room” with the Almighty, when we are to focus our attention solely on Hashem. When a bride and groom enter the yichud room, nothing would be more inappropriate than for them to pull out their phones and start checking their emails and text messages. Similarly, it would be wholly inappropriate to spend Shabbos, our “yichud room,” speaking about business or about insignificant, trivial matters. This is a time that should be spent focusing on Hashem, on learning Torah and singing songs of praise to G-d, so we can cultivate our unique relationship with Him and elevate our lives to the highest spiritual level possible.
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Reprinted from Embrace Shabbos by Rabbi David Sutton with permission from ArtScroll Mesorah.
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