Kee Teesah 20 Adar 5767 / March 10, 2007

Hapax Legomenon is the Greek term for “said only once.” It is a term that one occasionally encounters in Biblical studies to describe words that appear only one time in the Bible. Such words often pose problems in terms of translation, especially if they were not terms that were used in later Hebrew. Technically, the word MASVEH is not such a word; for it appears three times in the Bible. But all three times are in the same context, namely in the concluding passage of the portion of Kee Teesah and is used to speak of what Moses puts on his face after encountering God. It is translated as “veil.” The passage suggests that Moses’ face required this veiling after every encounter with the Almighty. I guess one is to assume that Moses had the equivalent of the hijab, of the veil that some Muslim women use when in public.

The passage is disturbing on a couple of levels. First, as passages go it is the equivalent of a prose hapax legomenon. This is the sole reference to the fact that Moses is ever veiled. Nowhere in the Torah, not in Leviticus nor Numbers, which continue the story of Moses in the wilderness, nor in Deuteronomy, which in measure is a recapitulation of those events, is there ever mention that Moses covered his face. Frankly it is puzzling that if Moses spoke through a veil to the people that there is not even passing mention of this phenomenon elsewhere. For example, one has to wonder why after his first stay on Sinai he doesn’t require this veiling. Our text may represent an isolated tradition included here after his receiving the second set of tablets. That is the best I can offer in the way of solution.

More importantly, why does Moses have to cover his face with this MASVEH? The Hebrew is somewhat obscure Ke Karan Or Panav. One tradition, represented by the famous statue of Moses by Michelangelo is that he grew horns; horns grew on his head. Except that the text doesn’t quite say that. It doesn’t say horns grew on his head or forehead; rather it associates horns with the skin of his face. This is not quite the same thing. And furthermore, what good would a veil do in terms of covering horns growing out of one’s head? They don’t fulfill the function of covering them over—one of my cowboy hats might do--, but not a veil.

Second possibility: his face was filled with light. His face literally was beaming with light. He was, as it were, radioactive. Seeing God left Moses with a radioactive residue and he literally glowed; beams of light came forth from his face. Intriguing. This view is already found over 2,000 years ago in the Septuagint, in the classic translation into the Greek. However, this translation has a slight problem, for it appears to be based on a homonym of the Hebrew word “Or.” There are two ways to spell “Or” in Hebrew: one is with an Aleph and one with an Ayin. (Our text is spelled with an Ayin.) In contemporary Hebrew there is no distinction in sound, though in ancient Hebrew they might have sounded slightly different. With an Aleph it means Light, as in Genesis chapter 1, “Vayehee Or, let there be light.” With an Ayin it means skin. The tradition that understands Moses having beams of light has in effect used the homonym of Or and understood it as light rather than skin. It certainly makes the text a bit easier to understand: rays of light emenated from his face.

In his newly released commentary on the second half of Exodus, Professor William Propp rejects this interpretation, though offering a fascinating bit of speculation regarding this interpretation. He points to our shiver-response to fear and suggests that our ancestors possessed the ability to puff their hair like cats, creating crests on their heads in order to appear larger. “This ability may have been used in male competitive display. My hunch is that we also retain a vestigial ability to perceive the crest, to respond submissively to humans surrounded by a (now invisible) fuzzy aura. Hence the hallucination of the halo.” He goes on to say that the averted gaze is part of this evolution; to look someone in the face is to challenge them. For example, people were forbidden to gaze at the countenance of the King of Assyria. Likewise, in Exodus it is forbidden to look at God.

It is certainly a bit of speculation by this distinguished scholar. But in the end, he rejects this reading of the text which understands that the face of Moses glowed. Hence he proposes, as he did some years ago in a popular article that appeared in Bible Review, that the passage means that Moses’ face became horned; that being in God ‘s radiant presence damaged his face and his face was so damaged that he had to cover it before he could deliver God’s message to the people of Israel. This is a frightening picture of Moses: getting close to God destroyed his face. His face is marred by Divine radiation. As to why such an idea is advanced, my fellow Great Neck native proposes that the Priestly author behind this tale wanted to undermine competition to the priesthood represented by Aaron and his sons. If he could not deny Moses’ pivotal role, “he could at least describe him as of hideous aspect.”

I am persuaded by his exegesis, his understanding of the text, though I find his venture into the para-normal a bit unnerving.

I would suggest to you that we, too, are veiled. But unlike Moses, we are veiled not in our encounters with our fellow human beings, rather in our dealings with the Divine. Some of this veiling is an act of reverence. We cloak our Torah scrolls in mantles or in the Sephardic tradition in a teek, in a specially constructed cases, be it or wood or precious metal overlaid on the wood. We house them in arks, often with curtains, further veiling them; further distancing the word of God from contact with us. Some traditional Jews wrap their Tallesim around heads during the Amidah, the silent devotion, veiling themselves from outside distractions. But have we taken this reverential veiling too far? Have we sheltered God in synagogues; safely locked God away from us and our daily lives? And if we don’t go to services often, we don’t have to look on the afterglow of the Almighty; and therefore we can lead our lives unaffected by the demands of God. Consigning God to the synagogue diminishes our Jewish lives.

Moses was severely affected by his encounters with the Divine. His very face was altered by the Divine Presence. He had to shield himself from the People of Israel after seeing God. Our challenge is the opposite. We need to open ourselves to God’s presence in our lives. Encountering God will not damage our faces, rather the words of the priestly benediction will be our lot: Yah’air Hashem Panav Aylechah V’yahsaym L’chah Shalom, May God shine His face on us and grant us peace. Amen.