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David Paid Fifty Shekels Per Tribe for the Temple Mount

Araunah offered the threshing floor for nothing. David would not put a free gift on the altar. He went to the tribes with an empty bag.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Angel Over the Floor
  2. Take It, the King Said No
  3. Fifty Shekels Per Tribe
  4. The Mount Belongs to Israel
  5. He Would Not Sleep Until He Found It

The angel stood between heaven and earth with a sword drawn over a threshing floor at the edge of Jerusalem. David looked up, then looked at the ground. Grain. Chaff. A Jebusite's work-floor. He understood what the location meant. He went to buy it.

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The Angel Over the Floor

The plague had already eaten through Israel. David had counted the people and the count had cost them. Now the destroyer paused over this patch of stone and straw, and David wanted the killing to stop here, on an altar he would pay for.

The man who owned the floor was Araunah the Jebusite, called Ornan by some of his own household. He saw the king coming with servants and came down off the threshing sledges. He bowed. He had eyes. He knew a king does not arrive at a threshing floor for grain.

Take It, the King Said No

Araunah offered the whole place as a gift. Take the oxen for the offering. Take the threshing boards for the wood. Take the wheat for the meal. "My lord the king, take what seems good to you."

David said no. "I will not offer to the Lord my God burnt offerings that cost me nothing."

A sacrifice that cost nothing was not a sacrifice. An offering that came from another man's generosity was the other man's offering. The altar required something of the person standing in front of it. Araunah's kindness would have given the floor to David. David would not build God's house on a gift.

Fifty Shekels Per Tribe

David did not open the royal treasury and close the matter. He sent to Judah first, then to the others, fifty shekels per tribe, the same weight in every bag. A smaller tribe might have claimed poverty. David did not ask. The Temple Mount would sit on equal silver or it would not sit at all.

Messengers went out from Jerusalem with empty bags and came back with fifty shekels in each. Twelve tribes, fifty shekels each. Six hundred shekels in all. The purchase price was not the king's money. It was the nation's money, handed over tribe by tribe, each one giving an equal share of the place where heaven would rest on earth.

The Mount Belongs to Israel

He paid. Araunah took the silver. The oxen went up. The boards burned. The plague stopped over the floor that now belonged to all Israel.

No tribe could say later that the House of David had bought the mount and lent it to the rest. Each family had paid. Each tribe held a piece of the deed. Araunah's gift would have made the ground a king's. The twelve bags made it Israel's.

Fifty shekels could buy a floor and oxen. Six hundred shekels could buy a mountain for twelve tribes. David paid both, because he had been to twelve tents with the same request.

He Would Not Sleep Until He Found It

David had not chosen the site the way a king chooses a fortress. He had found it. The location had been waiting before Jerusalem was a city, before the Jebusite had his threshing floor there, before the angel appeared with a drawn sword over that specific patch of ground.

He had sworn he would not give sleep to his eyes until he found the dwelling place of the Mighty One of Jacob (Psalm 132:4-5). He was looking for something that already existed. The angel's sword was the sign. The fifty shekels were the price of not stealing it.

The tribes went home lighter by fifty each. The floor was no longer Araunah's. It was not David's either. It was the ground a whole people had bought together, and the king who paid for it slept at last.

ConversionTribesMidrash AggadahSifreiGamliel
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From the tradition

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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Sifrei Devarim 352:13Sifrei Devarim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Sifrei by Rabbi Shraga Silverstein · CC-BY

Promises to ourselves, to others, maybe even to the Divine. But following through? That's the real test.

The Sifrei Devarim, a legal midrash on the Book of Deuteronomy, shares a fascinating story about this very idea. It involves someone whose intentions were certainly…ambitious.

Rabbi Shimon tells us of a person who declared, "I will go to my land and to my kindred, and I will convert the people of my land and of my family." Quite a proclamation! But did he actually do it? Did his actions match his words?

You might be skeptical. Did he just say the words, or did he follow through? The text offers evidence that, he did. We find support in I (Chronicles 2:55): "And the families of scribes who dwelt at Ya'abetz… These were the Kenites who descended from Chammath, the father of the house of Rechav." And further, (Judges 1:16) tells us, "And the children of the Kenite, the father-in-law of Moses, ascended from the city of date palms" (Jericho).

Think about this for a moment. These Kenites willingly left a place of abundance – a literal oasis flowing with fruit, food, and drink – to journey to the arid south of Arad, to the desert. Why? To learn Torah with Ya'abetz. Now, who was Ya'abetz, you ask? None other than Othniel ben Kenaz! Giving up comfort for spiritual growth, choosing Torah over earthly delights. It speaks volumes about the power of conversion, of inspiring others to seek wisdom.

But the Sifrei Devarim doesn't stop there. It pivots to another intriguing point, concerning King David's purchase of the future site of the Temple. This is where things get a bit… numerically challenging.

We encounter a seeming contradiction. II (Samuel 24:24) states, "And David bought the threshing floor and the cattle for fifty silver shekels." Yet, I (Chronicles 21:25) says, "And David gave Ornan for the place golden shekels, six hundred."

Wait a minute. Fifty silver shekels… or six hundred golden shekels? How do we reconcile these differing accounts? The Sifrei Devarim proposes a clever solution. It can't literally mean golden shekels, because of the verse that says silver. And it can't literally mean silver shekels, because of the verse that says gold. The answer? He weighed the purchase in gold, but bought it in silver.

But the discrepancy remains: fifty versus six hundred. The text suggests that when David recognized the perfect location for the Temple, he collected fifty shekalim – a unit of weight – from each tribe. Since there were twelve tribes, this totaled six hundred shekalim. So, each tribe contributed to making this holy site possible.

What are we to make of all this? The Sifrei Devarim, through these seemingly disparate stories, emphasizes the importance of intention, action, and community. The initial vow to convert one’s people, the Kenites' dedication to Torah study, and David's communal purchase of the Temple site all point to a central idea: that meaningful change, whether personal or collective, requires both individual commitment and collaborative effort. Sometimes, even seemingly contradictory accounts can reveal a deeper truth about shared purpose and collective responsibility. Isn’t that something to think about?

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Sifrei Devarim 320:6Sifrei Devarim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Sifrei by Rabbi Shraga Silverstein · CC-BY

" Ouch. But it gets even more pointed. They're labeled "sons without emun," meaning without faith.

Why such harsh words? The passage reminds us of that pivotal moment at Mount Sinai. Remember the scene? The Israelites, standing before the divine presence, proclaimed (Shemot 24:7), "All that the L-rd spoke we will do and we will hear!" A powerful commitment. So powerful, in fact, that, as the passage notes, the Divine even declared (Psalms 82:6), "You are angels."

Then… the Golden Calf. (Shemot 32:4) "These are your gods, O Israel," they cried. The ultimate betrayal. And the consequences? The Divine's response was equally dramatic (Psalms, Ibid. 7): "but like men will you die." A fall from grace, a shattering of potential.

The passage continues, highlighting the broken promise of the Temple. God brought them to the land of their forefathers, gave them the Temple, and promised they would never be exiled. But then they declared (II Samuel 20:1), "We have no part in David." And so, the Divine declared in turn (Amos 7:17), "And Israel will be exiled from its land." It’s a tit-for-tat of broken covenants, a painful cycle of promise and betrayal.

But there’s a fascinating twist. R. Dostai offers an alternative reading. Instead of "sons without emun" (faith), he reads it as "without 'Amen.'" He suggests that the Israelites failed to answer "Amen" after the prophets’ blessings. "Amen" isn’t just a word; it's an affirmation, a sealing of the covenant. It’s a way of saying, "Yes, I’m in. I believe. I accept."

The text even points to a specific example in (Jeremiah 11:5): "in order to fulfill the oath that I swore to your forefathers to give them a land flowing with milk and honey, as this very day." Yet, no one answered Amen… until Jeremiah himself stepped up. As the text says (Ibid.), "And I answered and said: 'Amen, O L-rd!'"

So, what does this all mean? Is it a condemnation of the Israelites? A lament over broken promises? Perhaps. But maybe it's also a call to action. A reminder that faith isn't just about grand declarations at Mount Sinai. It's about the small, everyday affirmations – the "Amens" – that keep us connected to something larger than ourselves. It's about choosing to believe, even when things are difficult, even when we're tempted to turn away. It's about remembering the promises we make, and striving to keep them, even when we fall short.

Because ultimately, aren't we all, in some way, "sons without Amen" at times? The question is, what will we do about it?

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Sifrei Devarim 352:1Sifrei Devarim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Sifrei by Rabbi Shraga Silverstein · CC-BY

The answer is a resounding "no." There's a fascinating story in Sifrei Devarim that illuminates this very idea.

It all begins with a question from Agnitis, a Roman general, to Rabban Gamliel. Agnitis, clearly intrigued by Jewish tradition, asks a simple yet profound question: "How many Torahs were given to Israel?" Rabban Gamliel doesn't hesitate. His answer? "Two, one written; the other oral." Two Torahs. One we can hold in our hands, the other passed down through generations by word of mouth. That oral tradition, the Oral Torah, is just as vital as the written one. It's the commentary, the explanation, the living, breathing interpretation that brings the written word to life.

Then, the text moves on, drawing our attention to the blessings bestowed upon the tribe of Levi. Remember the verse in Devarim (Deuteronomy) 33:11? "Bless, O, L-rd, his substance." Sifrei Devarim connects this to the material possessions of the Cohanim (priests), leading to the saying, "Most Cohanim are wealthy." Is this a literal promise of riches? Perhaps. But it also speaks to a deeper blessing – the blessing of being supported and provided for while dedicating oneself to spiritual service.

The text highlights two specific offerings: "They shall place incense before You": This refers to the inner incense, the sweet-smelling offering burned in the Beit Hamikdash (Temple). "and a burnt-offering upon your altar": These are the limbs of the burnt-offering. Each offering, each ritual, is a pathway to connect with the Divine.

This idea of Divine blessing extends further. Abba the exegete offers a beautiful interpretation, linking the prosperity of the Cohanim to a verse in Tehillim (Psalms) 37:25: "I have been a youth and I have also aged, but I have never seen a tzaddik (righteous person) forsaken nor his children begging for bread." He applies this verse specifically to the descendants of Aaron, the first Kohen Gadol (High Priest). This isn't just about financial security; it's about the assurance that those who dedicate themselves to righteousness, who live a life of service, will be sustained. It speaks to a profound trust in the Divine to provide for those who live according to its will.

So, what does all of this tell us? It's not just about the words on the page, but about the ongoing conversation, the interpretations, and the blessings that flow through generations. It's a story of both material and spiritual sustenance, reminding us that dedication to a life of meaning and service is never truly forsaken.

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