The Enigmatic Man of Time
The first section of Acharei Mot deals with the physical rituals of the Yom Kippur observance. The seriousness of the subject is clearly signaled by a reminder of what happened to the eldest sons of Aaron, Nadav and Avihu, who were killed for improperly offering alien fire before the Lord (Lev 10:1).
Aaron is told to take two he-goats to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting and to choose, by lot, one to be designated as a sin offering, and the other to be designated for Azazel. The sin offering will be sacrificed in accordance with previously detailed instructions. But the one designated for Azazel, is to be sent off—or, perhaps more accurately, led off or taken off—into the wilderness. The text describing that process is in Lev 16:21—22. It reads:
Aaron shall lay both his hands upon the head of the live goat and confess over it all the iniquities and transgressions of the Israelites, whatever their sins, putting them on the head of the goat; and it shall be sent off to the wilderness through a designated man. Thus, the goat shall carry on it all their iniquities to an inaccessible region; and the goat shall be set free in the wilderness. (New Jewish Publication Society, NJPS)
The issue I want to address is the “designated man” whom, it seems, is charged with taking the goat into the wilderness. The Hebrew describes the action as sending, but the process is understood to be more active than that.
The “designated man” language used by the NJPS translates the Hebrew איש עתי, ish itti which is a textual anomaly—a hapax legomenon in technical terms. This is the only place it is found in the Hebrew bible, so its meaning is unclear. The decision by the NJPS translators to use “designated” is unfortunate because it fails to capture the essential nature of the word.
The Hebrew עת, or et means time. According to the Brown-Driver-Briggs standard dictionary, it can mean the time of an event, or a usual time, an appointed time, and occurrence or occasion. But the word “designated” does not convey that critical element. The New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) text does not help. It has “someone designated for the task.”
The early halachic midrash on Leviticus, Sifra, approaches the phrase quite literally. The use of the word “man,” it suggests, allows any man to perform the task, as opposed to requiring a priest. Further, any man must also be understood to allow one who is not ritually pure. It interprets the element of time to mean the person has been appointed and made ready on the day prior to Yom Kippur.
The 11th century commentator, Rashi, draws on the Torat Kohanim (4-8) and the Talmud (Yoma 66b) to reach the same conclusion about prior selection—specifically selection on the prior day—and the prior instruction of the man to be ready at a specific time. In the 12th century, Ibn Ezra suggests that the word itti might refer to an individual whose custom was to always lead the goat on the Day of Atonement. His contemporary, the Rashbam, thought that this must be a person familiar with all the paths and the desert region and always available for such an assignment.
In the 13th century, the commentator, Chizkuni, said that he was aware of a midrash, whose source he did not know, that suggested that itti could be understood as referring to a man “whose time had come,” meaning someone destined to die before the year was out. This would explain why it seemed (in the midrash, apparently) that the man to whom the task was entrusted never lived out the year.
Some modern writers have been drawn to Chizkuni’s unsourced midrash and explored its implications, choosing to understand itti as meaning time bound. That is, the man chosen for this assignment was at the end of his life. Either he would die before the end of the year, or he, like the goat, would die in the desert.
The midrash that Chizkuni knew is clearly not within the mainstream of Torah commentary, but it opens an interesting avenue of discussion. What if it were true that the job of escorting the goat into the wilderness was given to a person known to be at the end of his life; still able to perform the task, but knowing it might be his last?
The goat dedicated for Azazel was to bear the sins of the community into the wilderness as a key element of the ritual of atonement. The ability to periodically wipe the slate clean was critical to the maintenance of the covenant between God and the people Israel.
I found myself, as I studied the text, thinking how one might approach the decision to take on such a role. And that led me to thoughts about the value of time. If I knew I was at the end of my life, whether I had a year, a month, or the time required to take a goat to the wilderness, how would that change my thinking about time? I don’t want to go into the question of options and choices. My question is about the value I would place on time itself.
We are all “time-bound” or “timely” as some translate itti. That is the essential constant of life. Judaism teaches respect for life. The saving of a life takes precedence over any other action we might be commanded or engaged in. We are taught the value of time, not in itself, but in relation to the performance of commanded acts. The Jewish person’s day, week, month, year, and life are increments of potential, within which commanded acts are performed.
Time is valued because it allows observance. And it is observance that produces the fruits that time allows—love, joy, growth, peace, and holiness. Those can be experienced in time only because of right-action, which is just another way of expressing observance.
That is an essentially universal religious understanding. Time has value to the extent that it is used well. And what is life, but time.
If we think of the ish itti as one who is at or very near the end of life, how does that affect our understanding of his selection? Of his decision to accept the role?
The task required of him by the community was an element of ritual crucial to its cleansing, critical to the repair of the relationship between the people Israel and God. The expiation of sin was necessary to the continuation of the covenant promise.
Could it be that the task was entrusted to one whose attention was no longer distracted by the minor matters of everyday life? Could it be that the ish itti was a person whose devotion was so one-pointed that there was no risk it would be diverted from his crucial task, his last opportunity at proper observance, at right action?
All we know about the ish itti is from the lone reference in Lev 16:21. Like so many other elements of our text, it raises questions rather than offering answers. It is for us to wrestle with as others have throughout history before us. The tradition of commentary informs us and deserves our respect. But the product of our own engagement with such a text takes its place in the line of tradition and creates merit as the proper fruit of observance.
Wrestling with the text is a proper use of time; an expression of the value we place on life. We are all timely, time-bound, and designated.