BH
Recap of the Creation of the Sun and the Moon
Parshat Shemini follows Pesach and brings with it a deep and practical teaching. To understand this week’s insight, we need to recap the story at the beginning of the Torah in Parshat Bereshit. The Torah teaches that Hashem created the “two great lights,” meaning the sun and the moon were originally equal in size and brightness. Yet, shortly after, the Torah says that Hashem made the “greater light” to rule the day and the “lesser light” to rule the night. What happened?
Rashi, based on the sages, explains that the moon complained to Hashem: “It is impossible for two kings to use one crown.” In response, Hashem said, “You’re right. Diminish yourself.” The Midrash describes a back-and-forth—Hashem attempts to appease the moon by giving it the stars, by linking Jewish holidays to the lunar calendar, by associating the names of tzaddikim with humility and smallness. Yet the moon is still unsatisfied. Finally, Hashem says, “The Jews will bring a sacrifice in the future to atone for My ‘sin’ of diminishing the moon.” This is the famous Rosh Chodesh offering—the “Chatat Lashem,” a sin offering for Hashem.
Reb Noson’s Explanation: Growth Through Setbacks
Reb Noson, based on Likutey Moharan lesson 24, explores the meaning behind this story. He explains that the ultimate secret of spiritual growth—receiving the “infinite light” of Hashem—depends on a process of “reaching and not reaching,” or “running and returning.” If a person only advances without any pushback or delay, the light and inspiration are overwhelming; there is no space to internalize and make them his own. Instead, a person would lose his own existence in the intensity of divine revelation.
So Hashem created the world with an inbuilt mechanism: after every advance comes a setback. This “bounce back” or delay is not a punishment or a flaw, but a necessary part of creating vessels for the light. The moon’s diminishing represents this retreat—a necessary step so the light can be received properly. The sun symbolizes advancing, shining light and inspiration; the moon, by diminishing, represents the humility and patience to accept setbacks and integrate the light.
The Paradox of the Sin Offering for Hashem
But if this system of advance and retreat is necessary for healthy spiritual growth, why does Hashem refer to it as a “sin” that needs atonement? Why create the sun and the moon as equals, only to then diminish the moon and require a sin offering every Rosh Chodesh? If setbacks are so essential, why the sense of regret?
The fundamental answer to the paradox of the moon’s diminishment is that it’s not something fully logical. If everything made sense, there wouldn’t be any diminishment. The whole secret here is that there are aspects of reality and God’s ways that remain unanswered, hidden, and impossible for human logic to fully grasp. This is the essence of diminished perception itself: not everything can or should be explained.
Rebbe Nachman, in Likutey Moharan II:1, calls Rosh Chodesh an incredible gift. This is especially significant because Rosh Hashanah, the Day of Judgment, is also Rosh Chodesh. On that day, when the world stands before Hashem’s judgment, we know our chances are slim—especially in a generation so confused and dark, as Rebbe Nachman describes it, “our faces darker than the bottom of a pot.” How can anyone stand in judgment? The answer is: through Rosh Chodesh.
The Opening of Rosh Chodesh—A Sin Offering for Hashem
On Rosh Chodesh, the Jewish people offer a sin offering not for themselves, but for Hashem—“Chatat Lashem”—to atone for Hashem’s “sin” in diminishing the moon. What does this have to do with us? Rebbe Nachman, quoting the Zohar, explains that the cycle of the moon—waxing and waning—reflects our own spiritual journey. When the moon is full, there is clarity and light; as it diminishes, so does our perception and understanding. The Jewish people, tied to the moon, are meant to illuminate the world with Hashem’s light. But when the moon is diminished, so is our ability to perceive, to know, and to serve Hashem without falling.
Here comes a bold teaching: Rebbe Nachman, and Reb Noson in his prayers (Likutey Moharan and Likutey Tefilot II:1), write that on Rosh Hashanah, our one opening, our one plea, is that since Rosh Hashanah is also Rosh Chodesh, we offer a sin offering for Hashem—for diminishing the moon. And since all the darkness and stumbling comes from this diminishment, it’s as if we say to Hashem, “You are responsible for my falling, for my sins. You diminished the moon; You created the darkness and confusion that allows for mistakes and frustration and failure.” This is the opening—the point of appeal on the Day of Judgment.
Setbacks as Part of the Divine Plan—Nadav and Avihu
Despite the pain and confusion, this system of “running and returning”—of going forward and then back—is the way Hashem designed the world. Reb Noson connects this concept to the tragedy of Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron, who died at the dedication of the Mishkan. Moshe tells Aaron, quoting Hashem’s words, “I will be sanctified through those who are closest to Me.” Rashi explains that Moshe thought the sanctification would come through either himself or Aaron, but in the end, it was Nadav and Avihu.
Nadav and Avihu: The Dangers of Pure Ascent Without Restraint
The key distinction between Nadav and Avihu and Moshe and Aaron is their approach to divine service. Nadav and Avihu embodied the sun—unceasing light and unrestrained ascent. Their spiritual drive was all “running,” never “returning.” As a result, they acted without restraint — offering the Ketoret in the Holy of Holies at the wrong time, entering a domain reserved only for the Kohen Gadol on Yom Kippur. The Torah emphasizes their lack of balance: they were not married, they ruled halacha in front of Moshe—signs of lacking the quality of the moon, the power of diminishment, humility, and restraint. Their souls, consumed by divine fire, were removed from their bodies, which remained intact—burnt not by physical fire but by their inability to integrate the lesson of setback and limitation.
The Inauguration and Its Unique Sacrifices
This context leads us back to the historic events described in Parshat Shemini. It was Rosh Chodesh Nisan—the day the Mishkan was inaugurated. For eight days, Moshe erected and dismantled the Tabernacle; on the eighth day (Rosh Chodesh Nisan), it remained standing, and Aaron and his sons began their avodah. But amidst the excitement and divine revelation—the descent of fire from heaven—tragedy struck with the death of Nadav and Avihu. Still, the service and festivity of the day could not stop. The Torah lists three distinct Musaf sacrifices: the Rosh Chodesh Musaf offering, the special Musaf Shlamim of the inauguration (Miluim), and the unique Musaf of Nachshon ben Aminadav, the first of the 12 tribal leaders to bring his offering.
Two of these offerings—the Miluim and Nachshon’s Musaf offering — were once-in-history events. The Rosh Chodesh Musaf, however, was to be repeated every month for all generations. Despite the tragedy, Moshe instructed Aaron and his sons to continue the service and eat from the special korbanot, since the halacha permitted (and in this unique historical moment, required) their participation, even in a state of aninut (pre-burial mourning).
The Mysterious Burning of the Rosh Chodesh Offering
Here the Torah uses an unusual phrase—darosh darash—to describe Moshe’s inquiry regarding the goat sin-offering of Rosh Chodesh. The double expression highlights Moshe’s intense investigation: Why was the sacrifice burnt instead of eaten? Normally, if the blood was applied incorrectly in the sanctuary, the sacrifice was burned. But this was not the case. So why did the sons of Aaron burn the Rosh Chodesh sin-offering and refrain from eating it?
Moshe’s double inquiry reflects his confusion and his search for clarity — he pressed for an answer both regarding the burning and the abstention from eating.
The Halachic Drama: Eating the Rosh Chodesh Offering in Mourning
After the tragedy of Nadav and Avihu, Moshe turns to Aaron’s surviving sons, Elazar and Itamar, demanding to know why they burned the Musaf sin-offering of Rosh Chodesh rather than eating it. Moshe argues that their mourning status should not prevent them from eating—since a Kohen Gadol, even in aninut (pre-burial mourning), is commanded to continue the Temple service.
Elazar and Itamar remain silent, deferring to both their father Aaron and their teacher Moshe. Aaron himself then answers: yes, the Kohen Gadol serves while mourning, but to eat the sacrifice—an act associated with joy and wholeness—seems inappropriate in his current state, having just lost two sons. This, Aaron reasons, cannot be Hashem’s will. Remarkably, Moshe concedes—vayishma Moshe, vayitav b’einav—“Moshe heard, and it was good in his eyes.” Moshe admits to never having heard this halacha, or, as the Gemara suggests, he remembers being taught but had temporarily forgotten.
Darosh Darash: The Heart of the Torah and Its Message
At the center of this episode stands a striking Torah anomaly: the double expression darosh darash (“inquired, did he inquire”). Every standard edition of Chumash notes that this phrase marks the exact midpoint in words of the entire Torah—a literary and spiritual turning point. The message? The heart of Torah is found in honest inquiry, wrestling with questions, setbacks, and unresolved dilemmas.
Moreover, this entire halacha—that a mourner may not eat the Rosh Chodesh sin-offering or any other sacrifice — is derived specifically from the unique Korban of Rosh Chodesh. Why? Because Rosh Chodesh, the renewal of the moon, symbolizes the Jewish people’s own cycles of diminishment and renewal, darkness and return.
The Power of Return: No Such Thing as Despair
The episode culminates in a radical idea, revealed only through the tradition of outstanding tzaddikim: there is no such thing as despair, no matter how low one has fallen or how many times the Torah has been transgressed. The Korban Rosh Chodesh, a sin-offering “for Hashem,” provides every Jew a way back, no matter the circumstances. It’s as if one could say, “Hashem, You caused me to sin,” and yet, through this mechanism, be welcomed back. This concept—otherwise unimaginable—becomes the heart of teshuvah and Jewish hope.
Korban Rosh Chodesh: The Doorway of Hope for Every Jew
The ultimate message of the Korban Rosh Chodesh, the special sin offering brought because Hashem diminished the moon, is profound and empowering. On one hand, diminishment is necessary for perception and spiritual growth; on the other hand, it causes confusion, darkness, and stumbling in life. In this paradox lies the secret of Jewish hope. We’re placed in a world where the setbacks are not just accidents, but part of the Divine plan—a plan that even allows us to turn to Hashem and say, “I fell because You set the stage this way. The darkness is Yours, and so is my return.”
This may sound audacious, but it’s the core teaching of Rosh Chodesh and its korban. By highlighting the episode where even Moshe Rabbeinu forgot the halacha and was angered, the Torah hints that sometimes even the greatest leaders must experience diminishment—making space for future true tzaddikim to reveal new openings for teshuvah and hope. The Torah itself marks this point with darosh darash, whose numerical value (504) hints at the spiritual light of Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai and Rebbe Nachman ben Simcha (both names equal 504 with the 3 words), two outstanding tzaddikim who promised hope and return for even the lowest souls.
The Korban Rosh Chodesh is every Jew’s invitation: “Hashem, You diminished the moon, and from there my struggles began. But that is my very opening to return.” No matter how great the darkness, no matter how many times we fall, the path back remains open through this korban and the light of the tzaddikim. Especially in this month of Iyar, Rabbi Shimon’s month, we are reminded to seek out and connect to these tzaddikim, to activate the light of renewal and return.
May we have the courage and humility to use this Divine opening, to speak honestly before Hashem, to never give up, and to embrace even the setbacks as part of our journey home.
This article also appears on the BRI breslov.org website: https://breslov.org/korban-rosh-chodesh-finding-hope-in-the-diminished-moon/
For a video presentation of this article: https://youtu.be/aI5N_eM692o
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Shabbat Shalom.
Meir Elkabas