We all know it's a fundamental ritual in Judaism, a sign of the covenant between God and Abraham. But what about the times when it wasn't done quite. The Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating early medieval text, dives into just that. Rabbi Ishmael raises a pointed question: Could those who were uncircumcised have truly heard God's voice at Mount Sinai? "I am the Lord thy God" (Exodus 20:2) – these are powerful words! Rabbi Ishmael clarifies that, while the Israelites were circumcised, it wasn't always performed correctly. They'd cut off the foreskin, sure, but they hadn't uncovered the corona – the head of the penis. And according to this teaching, that makes all the difference! If the corona isn't uncovered, it's "as though he had not been circumcised." Hence the verse, "Israel was not circumcised of old."
This brings us to the story of Joshua, entering the Promised Land. God speaks to him, as the Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer recounts, essentially saying, "Joshua! You know they're not properly circumcised. " (Joshua 5:2) So, what does Joshua do? He circumcises them again. The text tells us, "The Lord said unto Joshua, Make thee knives of flint, and circumcise again the children of Israel a second time." Can you imagine the scene?
And it gets even more vivid. "And Joshua made him knives of flint," (Joshua 5:3) and gathered all the foreskins until they formed a massive hill! The text says, "And he circumcised the children of Israel at the hill of the foreskins." A hill of foreskins! It's a rather graphic image, isn't it?
What happened to all that…evidence? Well, according to this tradition, the Israelites took the foreskin and the blood and covered them with the dust of the wilderness. Then, along comes Balaam, the famous (or infamous) prophet. He sees this vast wilderness filled with the discarded foreskins of the Israelites, and he's struck by the power of the blood of the covenant, even when hidden by dust. He exclaims, "Who will be able to arise by the merit of the blood of the covenant of this circumcision, which is covered by the dust? as it is said, "Who can count the dust of Jacob?" (Numbers 23:10).
So, what are we to make of all this? On the surface, it’s a story about ritual correctness and the importance of following God's commands to the letter. But perhaps it’s also about the enduring power of the covenant, even when imperfectly observed. Even hidden under the dust, the merit of that ancient agreement can still protect and uplift. It makes you wonder about the rituals in our own lives, doesn't it? Are we always performing them "correctly"? And even if we're not, is there still a spark of the sacred within them?