They're not mistakes. They're breadcrumbs, little hints that something deeper is going on beneath the surface of the text. And they invite us to pause, to question, to delve into the rich tapestry of interpretation that makes Jewish tradition so vibrant.
We find a fascinating exploration of these dots in Bamidbar Rabbah, a Midrashic collection focusing on the Book of Numbers. It all starts with a seemingly straightforward census of the Levites: "All those counted of the Levites, whom Moses and Aaron counted by the directive of the Lord, by their families, all males from one month old and above, were twenty-two thousand" (Numbers 3:39). But wait! There's something peculiar. The Hebrew word for "and Aaron," ve’aharon, has a dot over the vav.
Why? Bamidbar Rabbah tells us it's because Aaron wasn't actually part of this census. He wasn't counted, nor did he participate with Moses in the census. It's a subtle visual cue that prompts us to ask why Aaron was excluded. What might that exclusion signify?
The text then offers a series of other examples where these mysterious dots appear. It's like a game of textual detective work!
For instance, in Genesis 16:5, Sarah says, "May the Lord judge between me and you [uveinekha]." Here, the yod in uveinekha is dotted. The Midrash suggests this indicates that Sarah wasn't demanding divine punishment for Abraham himself, but perhaps referring to Hagar alone, or even to those who create discord between them.
Another example: Genesis 18:9, "They said to him [elav]: Where is Sarah?" The alef in elav is dotted. The Midrash explains that the visitors already knew where she was; they were simply inquiring about her for a specific purpose. Perhaps to gently draw her into the conversation, setting the stage for the miraculous announcement to come?
Then there's the curious case of Lot's daughters in Genesis 19:33: "He did not know when she lay down and when she arose [uvkuma]." The vav in uvkuma, referring to the elder daughter, is dotted. The Midrash observes that he didn't know when she lay down, but he did know when she arose. A chilling detail suggesting a nuanced awareness, even in his drunken stupor.
And who could forget the famous kiss between Esau and Jacob in Genesis 33:4: "he kissed him [vayishakehu]." The word is dotted, a visual red flag! Why? Because, as the Midrash bluntly puts it, Esau "did not kiss him with all his heart." The dot hints at insincerity, a lingering resentment masked by a superficial gesture.
The dots continue. In Genesis 37:12, "his brothers went to herd et." The word et is dotted, implying that their true intention wasn't herding, but rather "to eat, drink, and be seduced." Not a flattering portrait of brotherly love!
Numbers 9:10 speaks of being "on a distant [reḥoka] journey." Here, the ḥet of reḥoka (though some sources, like Mishna Pesaḥim 93b, say it's the heh, and that’s how it appears in our Torah scrolls) is dotted. This suggests that even a journey just outside the Temple courtyard, or even a near journey on an impure path, would disqualify one from participating in the Paschal offering.
In Numbers 21:30, "we laid waste until Nofaḥ that [asher]," the reish in asher is dotted, hinting that the destruction extended even beyond that point. Or, according to another interpretation, that they didn't destroy the entire country, only the major cities.
The dots even appear in the sacrificial laws! Numbers 29:15 mentions "You shall offer one-tenth [isaron isaron] for each." The first isaron is dotted, implying that only a single tenth was required, and for sacrifices needing more, each tenth had to be measured separately.
Finally, there's the powerful verse in Deuteronomy 29:28: "The concealed are for the Lord our God, but the revealed are for us and for our children [lanu ulvaneinu] forever [ad olam]." Here, lanu ulvaneinu and the ayin of ad are dotted. The Midrash offers a profound interpretation: if you observe the revealed laws, God will reveal the hidden mysteries.
But there's more! Another interpretation attributes this to Ezra. It suggests that if Elijah were to question why these words were written, Ezra would respond that he had dotted them, marking them as potentially subject to further scrutiny. If Elijah approved, the dots could simply be erased.
What does it all mean? These dots, seemingly insignificant, invite us into a world of textual interpretation, a world where every letter, every mark, holds potential meaning. They remind us that the Torah isn't a static text, but a living document, constantly being reinterpreted and re-engaged with by each generation. They’re not errors, but invitations. Invitations to look closer, to question deeper, and to find new layers of meaning in the ancient words. And perhaps, in doing so, to find new layers of meaning within ourselves.