As for the point we made above that the elders could not possibly have washed their hands in a stream that lacked flowing water, it is worth paying attention to the division of the verse indicated by the Masoretic cantillation marks and by the diacritical marks. Specifically, in the phrase “they shall wash their hands over the heifer,” the cantillation marks indicate a pause at the word ha-egla (“the heifer”), while the final section of the verse – ha-arufa va-nachal (“whose neck was broken in the wadi”) – stands as an independent segment.
In light of this, the word va-nachal is not an object or an adverbial adjunct of the word yirchatzu (“they shall wash”), but of the word ha-arufa (“whose neck was broken”). The elders do not wash their hands in the water of the stream; rather, they bring a bottle of water with them and then use that water to wash their hands over the heifer whose neck was broken in the wadi. An internal analysis of the passage supports this interpretation as well; the words ha-arufa va-nachal allude to the earlier verse: ve-arefu sham et ha-egla va-nachal (“there, in the wadi, they shall break the heifer’s neck”).
According to this interpretation, the whole essence of the mitzva takes on a new meaning. This is not an act of reconciliation, but quite the opposite: It is an act that expresses the intent to see justice done. It is an act in the vein of “She set her blood upon the bare rock, so that it was not covered” (Ezekiel 24:8) and “the land can have no expiation for blood that is shed on it, except by the blood of him who shed it” (Numbers 35:33). It is a stern message to the populace that they must continue to search for the murderer and bring him to justice (see Luzzatto).
Another point to consider: In light of all that we have seen here, it seems that we can compare the atonement of the heifer to the atonement of the “scapegoat” of Yom Kippur. Regarding the goat, which is sent off “to Azazel,” the ritual’s designated location is the wilderness, and eretz gezeira – an inaccessible region. In other words, it is a harsh, rocky land.
Why the Commentators Suddenly Changed Their Tune
There is one more piece of the puzzle that remains to be explained. How could such an extreme reversal in the approach of the commentators have occurred? How could it be that all the translators and early commentators interpreted nachal eitan to mean “rocky ravine,” while almost all the later commentators – both Jewish and non-Jewish – understood the phrase to mean “flowing stream”?
Perhaps the key to answering this question lies in the fact that the early authors and sages were more familiar with the land of Israel and its landscapes. Many of them actually lived in the land itself, and others – especially Rashi, whom Luzzatto describes as having a “palate for tasting the taste of the Holy Tongue” – seemed to have had a unique sense for preserving the spirit of the land of Israel. These earlier authors interpreted nachal eitan in accordance with the landscape and atmosphere of the land of Israel. By contrast, the later writers generally lived in completely different landscapes. Many lived near the rivers of Europe, or on the banks of the Nile in Egypt, in the case of Rambam, and it may be that their interpretation was subconsciously influenced by the landscape in their own vicinity.
For further study:
S. R. Driver, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Deuteronomy (ICC), Edinburgh 1901, 241-242.
Yoel Elitzur, “Geographical Terminology in the Bible: nhr, nḥl, and nḥl ‘ytn,” Iggud: Selected Essays in Jewish Studies 1 (2008),
S.D. Luzzatto, Torah Commentary, trans. E. Munk, Jerusalem 2012.
This division of the verse also explains why the first letter of the word va-nachal (“in the wadi”) loses its dagesh, changing from the plosive bet to the fricative vet: It is connected to the preceding word ha-arufa, which ends with a vowel.
See Rashi’s commentary on Leviticus 16:8; compare to Toras Kohanim, Acharei Mot 2: “From where do we know that it must be on a cliff? We learn this from the verse ‘to an inaccessible region.’”
