Machor Chodesh

Whenever Rosh Chodesh falls on a Sunday, as it does this month, Chazal were Misaken that we Lein a special Haftorah on the preceding Shabbos. The Haftorah, called “Machor Chodesh”, is taken from Sefer Shmuel and discusses an episode within the story of Shaul and Dovid Hamelech. The selection begins with a Passuk in which Yonosan, the son of Shaul, reminds Dovid that the next day was Rosh Chodesh, hence the name of the Haftorah and its apparent relevance to the calendar.

There is a common question which is posed with regard to this Haftorah: why did Chazal deem it necessary to replace the regular weekly Haftorah just because Rosh Chodesh falls out on Sunday, and why did they choose these particular Pessukim, which seem rather loosely connected to the time at which they are read? While we cannot definitively explain a Takanas Chachamim in all its depth, it is clear that Chazal saw an important message within these Pessukim and took the opportunity, so to speak, to ensure that it is read at least once a year. Perhaps a closer look at the Haftorah will reveal one such message for us to take advantage of.

In the Pessukim preceding those of the Haftorah, Yonason attempts to convince Dovid that he is not under the threat of death by Shaul. As Dovid himself is unsure, the two come up with a plan to make a determination: Dovid will hide for three days, during which Shaul will hold the usual Rosh Chodesh feasts. Because it would be unusual for Dovid, who was so close to Shaul, to miss the Seudah, the reaction of the king to his absence would indicate his feelings for Dovid. As the Haftorah tells us, Shaul does not inquire into Dovid’s whereabouts until the second day of Rosh Chodesh, at which time Yonasan explains that he had given Dovid permission to join his family in Bais Lechem for a celebration.

Shaul’s response is telling. He becomes furious, and refers to his own son as “Ben Navas Hamardus”, the child of a perverse and rebellious woman, and tells him that he sees through the charade: “Halo Yodati Ki Bocher Atta L’Ben Yishai”, I know, says Shaul, that you have chosen Ben Yishai over your own familial ties. When Yonasan tries to defend Dovid, however, Shaul throws a spear at him, and the Passuk tells us that Yonasan understood all to well “Ki Chala Hi Me’Im Aviv L’Hamis Es Dovid”, that his father was determined to kill his friend Dovid.

The next day, in accordance with their plan, Yonasan goes into the field utilizing his arrows and one of his assistants in a ruse to pass a coded message on to Dovid: “run for your life”. Once the boy is sent back to the city, and Dovid are reunited briefly, for the last time. The Navi tells us that Dovid bowed htree times and then describes the emotional encounter: “VaYishku Ish Es Re’ehu Vayibchu Ish Es Re’ehu”. The two friends kissed each other and wept together, and then Yonasan bade Dovid farewell: “Lech L’Shalom”, and bid him to remember the pact they had made earlier, that the animosity between Shaul and Dovid would extend neither to the two of them nor their offspring.

This is certainly a moving passage, which describes the final moments shared by two close friends, but we must always understand the implication of each word in the Navi and there are three words in the Passuk that beg explanation. The Navi tells us that Dovid and Yonason wept together “Ad Dovid Higdil”, which, Rashi tells us means “Hirbeh Libchos”, meaning that the cries of Dovid were in some way greater than those of Yonason. What is not clear is how this was true: did Dovid cry for longer than Yonason, or were his cries louder or more bitter? In what way were the cries of Dovid Hameleh bigger or greater? In addition, we must understand why the Navi chose to tell us that this was the case—in what way does this contribute to our understanding of the story and its lessons?

The terminology used by some of the other Meforshim in explaining these words is a little more direct. Radak and Metzodus both write that Dovid cried “Yoser M’Yehonasan”, that Dovid cried more than his friend. This would seem to indicate that his cries extended longer that Yonasan’s but, again, we must understand why this was the case and why the Navi saw fit to tell us this.

Ralbag expands a bit on the word “Yoser”, offering a little more of an explanation. He writes that Dovid cried “Yoser Min HaRa’uy Lo”, more than he should have, “Min HaPachad Mipnei Shaul”, from the fear caused by Shaul. This explanation of the words “Ad Dovid Higdil” is certainly helpful in understanding in what way Dovid’s cries were “more” than Yonasan’s. It may also help us understand why the Navi chose to tell us this.

Once the Passuk establishes that Dovid was “Higdil” it immediately after tells us that Yonasan sent him on his way. The implication is that the two are connected: because Dovid’s cries exceeded his own, Yonasan sent him away. Malbim explains that this was a practical matter: Dovid’s excessive crying threatened to draw attention to them, and so Yonasaon sent him away. Ralbag himself concludes his words by saying that it was because Dovid cried “Yoser Min HaRa’uy Lo” that Yonasan sent him away. If we can understand why this was the case, why Yonasan sent Dovid away due to the fact that he was crying more than he should have, perhaps we can understand why the Navi tells us that they cried “Ad Dovid Higdil”.

In order to understand these words, it may be beneficial to understand the relationship that existed between these towering figures, Dovid and Yonasan, as described by Chazal.

The Mishna in Avos discusses two types of love: “Ahava HaTeluya B’Davar” and “Ahava She’aino Teluya B’Davar”, love which is dependent upon an outside factor, and that which is not. The Minsha states that the former is necessarily short-lived, while the latter is ever-lasting “Aina Beteila L’Olam”. The Mishna gives an example of this type of Ahava: Yonasan and Dovid. Chazal testify that these two individuals shared a love that was without bounds, and independent of any outside factors, and thus endured.

On what, then, was their relationship based? Why did Yonasan and Dovid share such a close bond? Rabbeinu Yona, in his Pirush on Avos, explains the root of this love; “Shelo Haysa Ahavasan Ela L’Shem Shamayim”, it was a relationship based totally on a desire to fulfil the Ratzon HaBorei. The Mi’iri writes that theirs was a relationship “Bli Shum Siba Ela Ahava Me’ula”, without any reason, but this is not a contradictory approach—Dovid and Yonasan shared a love for one another that was in no way due to personal gain or advantage, it was purely L’Shem Shamayim. This, explains the Mishna, is a type of love that cannot be extinguished and is never Batul.

The question arises however: how did Chazal know that this was the case? From where in the Pessukim do we know that Yonasan and Dovid shared a relationship that was based on Ahava She’aino Teluya B’Davar?

If we trace the roots of their bond, we can perhaps answer this question partially.

Dovid first encountered Shaul as a musician, playing music to soothe the king’s tormented spirit, and later volunteers to face Golias. After his successful battle, Dovid is brought before the king, presumably to be congratulated, and the king has but one question: “Ben Mi Atta?” Dovid responds in kind: “Ben Avdecha Yishai Bais Halachmi”, identifying himself as the son of Yishai from Bais Lechem.

The very next Passuk is the first that speaks about the bond between Yonasan and Dovid: “VaYehi K’Chalaso L’Daber El Shaul V’Nefesh Yonasan Nikshara B’Nefesh Dovid”. Immediately after Dovid finished speaking with Shaul, the sould of Yonasan was connected to that of Dovid Hamelech. The Passuk implies that the two are connected, this, however, is difficult to understand: Dovid didn’t say anything, he only answered Shaul’s question as to his heritage.

The answer seems clear: Yonasan’s love for Dovid was not based on any outside factor. It was not because of Dovid’s heroism or his valor, nor for any other cause other than that Yonasan sensed that he was capable of bringing further Kvod Shamayim. The Passuk tells us that this love began “K’Chalaso L’Daber El Shaul”: it was not based on Dovid’s actions prior to that moment, and nothing occurred after Dovid spoke. The love that Yonasan felt was purely Ruchani and purely L’Shem Shamayim, truly an “Ahava She’aino Teluya B’Davar”.

We now know how Chazal knew that Yonasan had this type of affinity for Dovid, but how do we know that Dovid felt the same way as Yonasan? As the Pessukim continue, we learn that Yonasan immediately showed his love for Dovid: the two entered into a Bris with one another, and Yonasan placed his own coat upon Dovid. Later, when Shaul realized that Dovid was a threat to his Melucha and began to chase the young upstart, Yonasan time and again intercedes on behalf of his friend and pledges him allegiance. This being the case, it is hard to know if the Ahava that Dovid showed for Yonasan was Teluya B’Davar or not. Were his feelings selfless, and due only to a desire for Ribuy Kvod Shamayim, or were they due to all that he owed Yonasan for his generosity?

In fact, perhaps Yonasan had the same question—maybe he too was unsure if Dovid’s love toward him was in fact Ahava She’aino Teluya B’Davar. This would not be a merely academic question for Yonason either—by the time the fateful Seudas Rosh Chodesh arrived, Yonasan knew that Dovid was destined to become Melech, and he was concerned about retribution against him or his children, as he expressed to Dovid. This being the case, the source of Dovid’s Ahava for Yonasan was quite important: if it was Ahava HaTeluya B’Davar, based on Yonasan’s favors toward Dovid, the love would cease to exist when Yonasan was no longer useful to Dovid. If, however, it was Ahava She’aino Teluya B’Davar, Yonasan had nothing to fear, for this type of love is Aina Beteila L’Olam.

And, so, when he and Dovid were about to part ways, Yonasan desperately sought the answer to this quandary, and he found it in Dovid’s tears. If we think about their relative situations, Yonasan was, in a way, worse off than Dovid. Not only was his father’s rule as Melech at risk, but Shaul had explicitly implicated Yonasan as a traitor. He therefore faced threats from within as well as the outside world. This was compacted by the need for him to take leave of his closest friend, Dovid.

One would then expect Yonasan to be crying more bitterly than Dovid, but the Passuk tells us this was not the case: “Ad Dovid Higdil”, Dovid cried “Yoser Min HaRa’uy Lo” as Ralbag explained. This made it clear that Dovid was not crying for himself, and his own lot, but for Yonasan. Such a reaction to his friend’s pain, to the point that the concerns of Yonasan overrode his own, were a sign that Dovid felt true Ahava She’aino Teluya B’Davar. When Yonasan realized this, he felt comfortable sending Dovid on his way, secure in the fact that their bond would endure, and as he told Dovid “Yihiyeh Hashem Beini B’Beinecha U’Bein Zari U’Bein Zarecha Ad OIam”, a lasting peace was ensured.

The story of Dovid and Yonasan, particularly as expressed in this Hafotrah, is then about the capacity of love that one can have for another, the boundless Ahava She’aino Teluya B’Davar that can exist between two people. What, however, are we to learn from this? Many point out that our common relationships lie somewhere on the spectrum between the two types spoken about in the Mishna: we are not really capable of true Ahava She’aino Teluya B’Davar, but we also are not doomed to shallow relationships of Ahava HaTeluya B’Davar. What then are we to take from these Pessukim?

The Lev Rachav, a Pirush on Avos, explains that there is one relationship in which we can achieve a level of real Ahava She’aino Teluya B’Davar: our connection to the Ribbono Shel Olam. We know that the love that Hashem has for us, his Am Hanivchar, is without bounds and certainly not Teluya B’Davar, for what can we possibly give or provide to the Konei HaKol? We must strive to match that in our own Ahavas Hashem. We can reach a level in which our connection to the Borei Olam is not tied to our material successes, and the Bracha that he bestows upon us, but solely upon the realization that he is Avinu Shebashamayim.

Perhaps this is why Chazal wanted us to read these Pessukim at least once a year—to remind us of the value in Ahava She’aino Teluya B’Davar so that we may reflect it in our Ahavas Hashem. In their wisdom they saw that this is indeed a worthwhile pursuit, for if we are successful in this Avoda we can be Zoche to a connection with Hashem that is Aina Beteila L’Olam.