The Rishonim offer various reasons why even though normally when two sets of witnesses contradict each other the result is a draw, when it comes to eidim zomimim we believe the second set of witnesses and discard the testimony of the zomimim. Ramban and others suggest that we are only left with a standoff in a case where Witness Group A says Reuvain stole $100 and Witness Group B says Reuvain did not steal $100, challenging the veracity of their testimony and. However, if Witness Group A says, “We were in the store at 2:00 on Tuesday when Reuvain stole $100,” and Witness Group B says, “You were with us on Tuesday and not in that store,” Witness Group B is not saying anything about the veracity of Witness Group A’s testimony regarding Reuvain. Since there is no direct contradiction, the Torah accepts their testimony as accurate.
The Derashos haRan gives another interesting reason. If Witness Group A wanted to lie, they could in theory pick any day of the week and any time of day and claim that is when they saw Reuvain steal. Witness Group B does not have the same luxury. They have to testify about the time and place set by Witness Group A. There is no wiggle room for them to concoct a story about that precise date/time in advance and hope no one can prove them wrong.
So the law of eidim zomimim makes perfect sense, right?
Yet in Bava Kama 71 the gemara says according to Rava that eid zomem is a chiddush, i.e. something unexpected, outside the norm. Given the explanations given by the Rishonim, what makes believing the second witnesses unexpected? Isn't it the logical thing to do? True, Abayei disagrees with Rava, but it seems far-fetched to say that Abayei and Rava were arguing about whether the reasons given in the Rishonim are compelling and make sense or not.
This question is asked by my wife’s grandfather, but in truth the Lechem Mishneh (Hil Eidus ch 18) beat him to it (as he notes himself). I think we can answer the question by clarifying what this whole concept of a chiddush is. My thinking on this was driven by the discussion in ch 3 of R' Moshe Avigdor Amiel's introduction to his Midos l'Cheiker HaHalacha. Here's his reduction ad absurdum argument: if you define chiddush as something that defies logic or common sense, then you've just about obliterated the term because every pasuk in chumash is a chiddush. As the gemara itself says, “lamah li k’ra – sevara hu?” – if there is a pasuk that is needed to derive a din, it means by definition you would not know it based on sevara or common sense alone. So what do Chazal mean when they label only certain dinim as a chiddush? R' Amiel suggests that a chiddush is not measured against outside barometers of what makes sense, but is measured minei u'bei against the halacha itself. The reason eid zomein is a chiddush is because it flies in the face of the halachic rule of trei u'trei that says contradictory testimony of pairs of witnesses result in a draw. The halacha has to carve out an exception to its own *internal* set of rules and invent this new category called hazamah to avoid that conclusion. The machlokes Abayei and Rava boils down to a debate over to what degree hazamah is really just another flavor of trei u'trei (in which case it is a chiddush) and to what degree it is not. That machlokes has nothing to do with the "ta'amah d'kra" (if you will) explanation of how we can make sense of this parsha of hazamah relative to external sets of rules (our own sense of justice), which is the issue the Rishonim are addressing.
This is a thumbnail sketch of a complicated sugya and I've greatly oversimplified the machlokes Abayei and Rava (Abayei may in fact agree that eid zomeim is a chiddush, but simply disagree with the ramifications Rava draws from that in the sugya). That's a shiur for another time.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
a question on Rashi
The Ba'al haTurim takes up the question of why the Torah juxtaposes the parsha of shoftim with the previous parsha that speaks of the moadim. Sefas Emes explains that once we've discussed the shalosh regalim at the end of last parsha, the Torah moves to the remaining holidays, the yamim noraim. Shoftim = justice and judgment, the theme of the upcoming days of Rosh haShana and Yom Kippur. Hard to believe we are almost there.
I have one and the same question on two separate comments of Rashi:
1) Rashi identifies "reishis degancha" (18:4) as terumah and then adds that m'doraysa there is no shiur for terumah, however Chazal instituted different shiurim, one of the generous person, one for the average guy, and one for the less generous. Rashi goes yet a step further and gives us the asmachta source for this din.
2) In the same pasuk Rashi identifies "resihis geiz tzoncha" as the first shearing from one's sheep, and Rashi again adds that m'doraysa there is no shiur, but Chazal instituted a shiur and Rashi explains what it is and the source.
Why does Rashi need to discuss the issue of shiur in this context? What is lacking in understanding the peshuto shel mikra if one does not have that information? Furthermore, even if Rashi needs to tell us something about the shiur, does he need to go into detail about the source, the asmachta?
I don't have an answer. The question just occurred to me when I was reviewing the parsha and I can't think of anything (yet : )
I have one and the same question on two separate comments of Rashi:
1) Rashi identifies "reishis degancha" (18:4) as terumah and then adds that m'doraysa there is no shiur for terumah, however Chazal instituted different shiurim, one of the generous person, one for the average guy, and one for the less generous. Rashi goes yet a step further and gives us the asmachta source for this din.
2) In the same pasuk Rashi identifies "resihis geiz tzoncha" as the first shearing from one's sheep, and Rashi again adds that m'doraysa there is no shiur, but Chazal instituted a shiur and Rashi explains what it is and the source.
Why does Rashi need to discuss the issue of shiur in this context? What is lacking in understanding the peshuto shel mikra if one does not have that information? Furthermore, even if Rashi needs to tell us something about the shiur, does he need to go into detail about the source, the asmachta?
I don't have an answer. The question just occurred to me when I was reviewing the parsha and I can't think of anything (yet : )
Sunday, August 16, 2015
Ishbitzer on the dialogue between Michal and David haMelech
At the beginning of Re’eh when we first read about making a mishkan/mikdash, the Torah tells us, “…U’smachten b’chol mishlach yedchem atem u’bateichem,” (12:7) that you and your household will rejoice. The parsha then continues and relates that when you cross into Eretz Yisrael and establish a secure country you will build another mikdash, and there, “…U’smachtem lifnei Hashem Elokeichem atem u’bneichek u’bnoseichem v’avdeichem v’amhoseichem…” (12:12) you and your children and servants and maids will all rejoice. Here the Torah emphasizes that the simcha will not just be for you and your household, but will spread to the servants as well. Why the difference?
The Ishbitzer (Mei haShiloach vol 2) explains that the first pasuk is discussing the mishkan, “menucha”; the second pasuk is describing the Mikdash, “nachalah”. There was simcha in the avodah of the mishkan, but it had limits. You had to be on a certain madreiga to appreciate what was going on. The achievement of David haMelech, which culminated in his bringing the aron to Yerushalayim and expressing the desire to build the Mikdash that Shlomo would eventually construct, was to break those limits. The simcha of avodas Hashem would, through David, not only reach every individual, not only reach the sons and daughters of Klal Yisrael, but would even trickle down to the lowliest servant and maid as well.
With this background in mind we have a much deeper understanding of the dialogue between David and his wife Michal in Shmuel II ch 6. Michal saw the procession bringing the aron to Yerushalayim, and there was David, in the front, dancing and rejoicing like it was Simchas Torah and Purim all rolled into one. She scathingly chastised David, “Mah nichbad ha’yom melech yisrael asher niglah ha’yom l’einei amhos avadav…” What a day it is when the king of all of Israel exposes himself [like a fool] before the servants and maids! This is a simcha shel mitzvah – look at how you are acting and who you are sharing the experience with. To which David responds, “…V’im ha’amahos asher amart, imam ikabda,” I will in fact be honored by those very maidservants that you dismiss. David was telling Michal that it from the “amahos,” from the words “avdeicheim v’amhoseichem” that are written in our parsha in connection with Yerushalayim, his city, and not earlier, that he gets the most kavod. Spreading simcha even to the people on the bottom rungs of the ladder and helping them rejoice in the experience of avodas Hashem is not an embarrassment – it’s a tremendous accomplishment, one which the Torah singles out for praise. This was the hallmark of Yerushalayim, the Mikdash, of David haMelech.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
the two meanings of lo tisgodedu
In addition to the peshuto shel mikra meaning of the pasuk, "Banim atem la’Hashem Elokeichem lo tisgodedu v’lo tasimu korcha bein eineichem la’meis," (14:1) which prohibits a person from cutting his/her flesh as a mourning rite, Chazal (Yevamos 14) learn from this pasuk that there is a prohibition of making "agudos agudos." (Insert pun about not joining a certain organization here.) You can’t have a city where half the beis din says X and the other half says Y (or according to the other view in the sugya, you can’t have two batei din in the same city each of which presents a different view). We are supposed to be united, not divided into splinter groups each following its own path and doing its own thing.
It seems that these two halachos have absolutely nothing to do with each other, yet both somehow are rooted in the same words of the pasuk. While some (Mizrachi, Minchas Chinuch) learn that the issur of dividing into agudos is just an asmachta, the simple reading of the Rambam (Hil Aku"m ch 12) seems to indicate that both are d’oraysa, as he describes the issur of making agudos as "bichlal azhara zu…" How then, asks the Maharal, can the Torah lump together apples and oranges in the same words of the pasuk?
(This is one of many places that the Maharal makes an assumption worth taking a moment to spell out: the difference between pshat and derash is *not* that the former is rooted in the text while the latter is not. Both are intimately tied to the text; they simply relate to it on different levels. Therefore, derash cannot completely diverge from the plain meaning of the words and fly off in an opposite or completely different direction. There must be some relationship between the plain meaning of the words and the derash meaning latent in them.)
The Maharal answers by digging into the root reason behind both issurim. Rashi writes that the issur of cutting onself is because the Torah wants us to look nice. "Banim atem la’Hashem Elokeichem," and for G-d’s children to walk around with slashes in our skin is an embarrassment. (Parenthetically, I know in my son’s yeshiva the Rosh Yeshiva insisted that boys always have their shirts tucked in, but that is the exception. How many times do you see yeshiva bachurim in the street walking around like total shlumps? It may not violate the letter of this law, but it surely violates its spirit.) Ramban takes issue with Rashi. If the issur is a matter of appearance, then why does the issur only apply to cutting done as a response to death? Why not any dishevelment in response to any sorrow or tragedy? Rashi might not have been bothered by this problem because perhaps he viewed ta’amei hamitzvos as abstract philosophical ideas not meant to explain the details and parameters of dinim, or it could be that Rashi held that someone who would disfigure him/herself at something other than death is so outside the pale that batlah da'ato and that's why there is no issur. In any case, Maharal proposes something different. "Banim atem l’Hashem Elokeichem" means our relationship with Hashem is so close and special that something essential about him is reflected in us. One of the most fundamental things we can say about G-d is that he is one. The idea of cutting oneself into pieces when faced with tragedy and the idea of dividing the community into pieces are both antithetical to this idea of oneness. We have to reflect wholeness and unity within ourselves and within the community because this is G-d’s characteristic.
The Shem m’Shmuel quotes a similar idea from his father, the Sochotchover. The reason a person would beat himself up and go to pieces (literally) when confronted with death is because that individual sees the physical body as everything. Once the physical person is gone, there is nothing left -- the loss is total and unbearable. This emphasis on the tangible and physical to the exclusion of matters of the soul is the same underlying error that causes division in the community. If we were all focused on ruchniyus, on what matters, then there wouldn’t be "agudos agudos," factions fighting with each other. The issur redirects our values -- there is something that endures even after death; there are values greater than physical needs and wants that unite our community.
The Shem m’Shmuel asks what I think is a tremendous question against his father. Is "agudos agudos" really only because we are not focused on the spiritual? Beis Shamai vs. Beis Hillel – is that split into factions caused by these giants attuned to the "guf" instead of the "nefesh"? Impossible to believe. There can be deep and important disagreements even when both parties are only interested in "l’shem shamayim." I don't think this is any less true of disagreements between contemporary Rabbonim than it is of machlokes between Tanaim and Amoraim. I think that lesson is even more important to walk away with than the answer he gives, which you can look up inside : )
I want to offer one final suggestion to try to explain the common theme of these two halachos. Ibn Ezra writes that the reason one should not be overcome with grief and harm oneself in mourning is because "banim atem," we are like like little children who cannot understand what or why a parent does what he/she does. G-d's ways are unfathomable, and death is the ultimate mystery. There is a reason for loss, even if we cannot understand it, and that should at least give us some comfort. The takeaway lesson according to Ibn Ezra is that we never have full knowledge. How then can each camp of the agudos agudos dig their heels in and argue with such certainty that they alone are right and there can be no compromise with the other side? "Banim atem," it would be like little children arguing on the playground. The Torah expects us to rise above such pettiness. When each side recognizes that their position as well as that of the other side is of necessity borne of incomplete knowledge and understanding, then dogmatic certainty and inflexibility have no place, and two agudos can merge into one.
It seems that these two halachos have absolutely nothing to do with each other, yet both somehow are rooted in the same words of the pasuk. While some (Mizrachi, Minchas Chinuch) learn that the issur of dividing into agudos is just an asmachta, the simple reading of the Rambam (Hil Aku"m ch 12) seems to indicate that both are d’oraysa, as he describes the issur of making agudos as "bichlal azhara zu…" How then, asks the Maharal, can the Torah lump together apples and oranges in the same words of the pasuk?
(This is one of many places that the Maharal makes an assumption worth taking a moment to spell out: the difference between pshat and derash is *not* that the former is rooted in the text while the latter is not. Both are intimately tied to the text; they simply relate to it on different levels. Therefore, derash cannot completely diverge from the plain meaning of the words and fly off in an opposite or completely different direction. There must be some relationship between the plain meaning of the words and the derash meaning latent in them.)
The Maharal answers by digging into the root reason behind both issurim. Rashi writes that the issur of cutting onself is because the Torah wants us to look nice. "Banim atem la’Hashem Elokeichem," and for G-d’s children to walk around with slashes in our skin is an embarrassment. (Parenthetically, I know in my son’s yeshiva the Rosh Yeshiva insisted that boys always have their shirts tucked in, but that is the exception. How many times do you see yeshiva bachurim in the street walking around like total shlumps? It may not violate the letter of this law, but it surely violates its spirit.) Ramban takes issue with Rashi. If the issur is a matter of appearance, then why does the issur only apply to cutting done as a response to death? Why not any dishevelment in response to any sorrow or tragedy? Rashi might not have been bothered by this problem because perhaps he viewed ta’amei hamitzvos as abstract philosophical ideas not meant to explain the details and parameters of dinim, or it could be that Rashi held that someone who would disfigure him/herself at something other than death is so outside the pale that batlah da'ato and that's why there is no issur. In any case, Maharal proposes something different. "Banim atem l’Hashem Elokeichem" means our relationship with Hashem is so close and special that something essential about him is reflected in us. One of the most fundamental things we can say about G-d is that he is one. The idea of cutting oneself into pieces when faced with tragedy and the idea of dividing the community into pieces are both antithetical to this idea of oneness. We have to reflect wholeness and unity within ourselves and within the community because this is G-d’s characteristic.
The Shem m’Shmuel quotes a similar idea from his father, the Sochotchover. The reason a person would beat himself up and go to pieces (literally) when confronted with death is because that individual sees the physical body as everything. Once the physical person is gone, there is nothing left -- the loss is total and unbearable. This emphasis on the tangible and physical to the exclusion of matters of the soul is the same underlying error that causes division in the community. If we were all focused on ruchniyus, on what matters, then there wouldn’t be "agudos agudos," factions fighting with each other. The issur redirects our values -- there is something that endures even after death; there are values greater than physical needs and wants that unite our community.
The Shem m’Shmuel asks what I think is a tremendous question against his father. Is "agudos agudos" really only because we are not focused on the spiritual? Beis Shamai vs. Beis Hillel – is that split into factions caused by these giants attuned to the "guf" instead of the "nefesh"? Impossible to believe. There can be deep and important disagreements even when both parties are only interested in "l’shem shamayim." I don't think this is any less true of disagreements between contemporary Rabbonim than it is of machlokes between Tanaim and Amoraim. I think that lesson is even more important to walk away with than the answer he gives, which you can look up inside : )
I want to offer one final suggestion to try to explain the common theme of these two halachos. Ibn Ezra writes that the reason one should not be overcome with grief and harm oneself in mourning is because "banim atem," we are like like little children who cannot understand what or why a parent does what he/she does. G-d's ways are unfathomable, and death is the ultimate mystery. There is a reason for loss, even if we cannot understand it, and that should at least give us some comfort. The takeaway lesson according to Ibn Ezra is that we never have full knowledge. How then can each camp of the agudos agudos dig their heels in and argue with such certainty that they alone are right and there can be no compromise with the other side? "Banim atem," it would be like little children arguing on the playground. The Torah expects us to rise above such pettiness. When each side recognizes that their position as well as that of the other side is of necessity borne of incomplete knowledge and understanding, then dogmatic certainty and inflexibility have no place, and two agudos can merge into one.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
rules or guidelines?
1) The Torah writes that if you have a large amount of ma’aser sheni produce to bring to Yerushalayim you can convert it to cash and bring money instead. “Ki yirbeh mimcha ha’derech ki lo sochal se’eiso ki yirchak mimcha hamakom… ki y’varechicha Hashem Elokecha.” (14:24). Rashi comments on ki y’varachicha – “she’t’hey hatevu’ah merubah la’seis.” The words of the pasuk itself tell us that we are speaking of a case where the farmer is blessed with too much to carry -- what is Rashi adding?
Maybe there is a better answer, but what came to my mind is the machlokes between the Rashbam (Baba Basra 122) and the Chasam Sofer (Shu”T Y.D. 234, see here point II) whether having a portion of land closer to Yerushalayim is better, since Yerushalayim is the holiest place, or whether having a portion further away is better because then one gets more schar for travel. Rashi is perhaps emphasizing that the bracha the pasuk is speaking of is davka having so much fruits, but the fact that you live far from Yerushalayim, “ki yirbeh mimcha ha’derech,” and have to shlep everything to get there and maybe earn extra schar for the journey, is not itself a bracha.
2) “Al kein ani metzavcha leimor, ‘Paso’ach tiftach es yadcha…’” (15:11). Rashi: “eitzah l’tovascha anu masi’acha.” True, there is a seemingly unnecessary “leimor” (see Gur Aryeh), but nonetheless, how can “metzavecha” be interpreted to mean good advice? Doesn't the word “tzivuy” mean a rule, not a guideline?
Sunday, August 09, 2015
don't forget the rest of the story
In discussing the choice before Senator Schumer as to whether to support Obama y'mach shemo's Iran deal or not, I've seen many people make reference to Mordechai's statement to Esther that whether or not she chooses to plead for her people or not, the Jews will be saved -- the only question is whether she will be the instrument of their deliverance and be recorded for posterity as their savior or whether she will fail to seize the opportunity and be forgotten. I have yet to see anyone make reference to continuation of the story. Esther agrees to intercede, but she asks something of Mordechai and the Jewish people. She requests that people fast for three days, a massive expression of teshuvah to Hashem that would bolster her odds of success. Senator Schumer has made his choice. The ball is in our court to do our part. Hishtadlus, attending rallies, calling Senators and Congressmen and Congresswomen -- all great things. But teshuvah, tefillah, tzedaka are also needed. You can ask for anything you want in shema koleinu three times a day in davening. I would be afraid to do a poll in shul and ask how many people have added into their tefilos a request for Hashem to help avert this danger. What is everyone waiting for?
I read a lot of what some would call right-wing blogs and news sites (I call them sane or common sense). So many comments I have read online and heard on the radio reiterate the same theme: 75% of Jews supported Obama. We elect the Schumers of the world, the Gillibrands. We constantly support the Democrat party. We made this bed, not it's ours to enjoy sleeping in. What can you say to that argument? On the one hand, good for Dershowitz for coming to speak at the rally in Time Square; on the other hand, how many times have I written what a fool he (and others like him) is for criticizing Obama, but then supporting him and other Democrats every election cycle, without fail. I can't remember the last time I voted for anyone with a D next to his/her name running in a national election. But I am in the extreme minority. Our community needs to wake up.
Last point: Who doesn't recognize the code words when President Y'mach Shemo talks about money and lobbyists who control Congress? I'm glad at least Tablet Magazine is not afraid to it what it is: outright anti-Semitism. Too bad no one else has the guts and courage to stand up and say that talk like this is not acceptable from anyone, even the President of the United States.
I read a lot of what some would call right-wing blogs and news sites (I call them sane or common sense). So many comments I have read online and heard on the radio reiterate the same theme: 75% of Jews supported Obama. We elect the Schumers of the world, the Gillibrands. We constantly support the Democrat party. We made this bed, not it's ours to enjoy sleeping in. What can you say to that argument? On the one hand, good for Dershowitz for coming to speak at the rally in Time Square; on the other hand, how many times have I written what a fool he (and others like him) is for criticizing Obama, but then supporting him and other Democrats every election cycle, without fail. I can't remember the last time I voted for anyone with a D next to his/her name running in a national election. But I am in the extreme minority. Our community needs to wake up.
Last point: Who doesn't recognize the code words when President Y'mach Shemo talks about money and lobbyists who control Congress? I'm glad at least Tablet Magazine is not afraid to it what it is: outright anti-Semitism. Too bad no one else has the guts and courage to stand up and say that talk like this is not acceptable from anyone, even the President of the United States.
Thursday, August 06, 2015
the first parsha of shema vs. the second
There are two differences between the first parsha of shema and the second that stand out: 1) “b’chol m’odecha” appears only in the first parsha but not the second; 2) the second parsha mentions rewards for serving G-d and punishments for disobeying, but the first parsha doesn’t.
The Meshech Chochma (based on a Chazal) explains that these two parshiyos are speaking to two different groups of people. Klal Yisrael is blessed with people who can devote themselves to the ideal (and we should recognize that it is an ideal) of complete immersion in Torah study 24x7. Klal Yisrael is also blessed with people who do mitzvos and live k’halacha, but who are not so immersed in talmud Torah. The first parsha of shema speaks to the Torah-only ideal. Here, the Torah demands, “b’chol m’odecha,” 110%. All a person’s wealth, all a person’s abilities, need to be dedicated to G-d. The same demand cannot be made on the masses who follow the second route. Similarly, the promise/threat of reward/punishment appears only in the second parsha and not the first is because it is the masses, not the Torah-only dedicated scholar, who need these extra incentives. If one is devoted to full time Torah study, there is the promise of “ohr she’bah machziran l’mutav,” that even if one goes astray, Torah study itself has the power to draw a person back. No other incentive in needed.
The gemara (Brachos 35) quotes a machlokes between R’ Shimon bar Yochai and R’ Yishmael as to how to deal with the conflict between the need to study Torah and the need for parnasa. R’ Yishmael holds that a person needs to strike a balance – to learn when it’s time to learn, and to plant and harvest (or practice law, medicine, accounting, etc.), “v’asafta deganecha,” when it’s necessary to do other things. RSHb”Y disagrees and holds that a person should aim for Torah-only. What does RSHb”Y do with the pasuk of “v’asafta deganecha?” He answers that this pasuk is speaking about those who fail to follow “retzono shel Makom.”
Tosfos on the spot asks: how does this answer make sense? That pasuk appears in our parsha in the context of the reward for those who follow mitzvos!
Based on the Meshech Chochma’s approach, the explanation is clear. It is precisely the fact that the pasuk appears in our parsha, the second parsha of shema, and not the first, which indicates that it is speaking to the less than ideal state. Relative to the high standard of Torah-only that the first parsha speaks to, this second parsha is not the “retzono shel Makom.”
The gemara (Shabbos 10) tells us that RShb”Y would not interrupt his learning to daven, but the gemara concludes that this practice should be followed only for those like himself who were completely dedicated to learning. The rule of “osek b’mitzvah patur min ha’mitzvah” normally doesn’t apply to talmud Torah – you wouldn’t say someone immersed in learning does not have to stop to take a lulav, hear shofar, etc. (Parenthetical question: why?) Why then should it apply to tefillah? Why did RShb”Y not stop learning to daven? The answer might be that the mitzvah of tefilah stems from the words “l’avdo b’chol l’vavchem” that appear in the second parsha of shema. RShb”Y held that this parsha is speaking only to those who are not dedicated full time to talmud Torah, who are not living the ideal of Torah-only. For those like himself who are, there is no mitzvah.
Why do Chazal describe the first parsha of shema as kabbalas ol malchus shamayim and the second parsha as kabbalas mitzvos? The second parsha mentions the mitzvah of ahavas Hashem, but so does the first. It mentions the mitzvah of tefillin, but so does the first. Same for mezuzah. What’s the difference? The Shem m’Shmuel answers that the difference is this mitzvah of “l’avdo…” that only appears in the second parsha. If you recognize what malchus shamayim is all about, then it’s not “avodah” and you don’t feel like an “eved.” That’s a notch down, it’s kabbala sol mitzvos, but it is not the full kabbalas ol of the first parsha.
The Torah promises that in Eretz Yisrael, “lo b’miskanus tocahl bah lechem,” (8:9) you won’t be eating bread like a poor person. Ksav Sofer writes that the point is not that we will be eating prime ribs. The point is that we will be eating bread, but not out of poverty – we will be eating bread because “pas b’melach tochal,” the way to succeed in learning is to be happy with less and not indulge in luxury. A person can do without by choice, not only by necessity. Making the choice to do so is part of the commitment to the Torah-only ideal. The Torah continues and promises that even if you are eating just plain bread, “v’achalta v’savata,” you will be just as satisfied as if you had the prime ribs, “u’barachta es Hashem Elokecha,” you will thank Hashem.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
what does the word "leimor" mean?
“Va’eschanan el Hashem b’eis ha’hi leimor.” What does the word “leimor” mean in this context? Ramban writes in Shmos 6:20 that the word “leimor” means to articulate clearly, as opposed to “amira m’supekes.” “Vayidaber Hashem el Moshe leimor” means (according to Ramban) that Hashem gave Moshe some message and charged him with the task of articulating it clearly to Bnei Yisrael. That makes sense in the context of a communication from A to B, but here we are not talking about a command that Hashem told Moshe to transmit or a nevuah to relate. Moshe is praying, which is exactly what the word “va’eschanan” on means on its own, without the additional “leimor.” Rashi already tackles this question and writes that the extra word signals that Moshe wanted Hashem to say something in response, but there is another approach as well.
There is another instance of “leimor” in the parsha that the meforshim struggle with: “Anochi omeid bein Hashem u’beineichem ba’eis ha’hi l’hagid lachem es dvar Hashem ki y’yreisem mipnei ha’eish v’lo avisem ba’har leimor.” (6:5) Rashi and Ibn Ezra write that “leimor” is a continuation of “l'hagid lachem es dvar Hashem,” even though there are intervening phrases (Ramban has a different approach). Aside from the problem of the word “leimor” dangling at the end of the sentence, divorced from the preceding phrase, the more fundamental question is why is the word is needed at all. We are dealing with the aseres hadibors, which Hashem communicated directly to Bnei Yisrael. Hashem here doesn’t need to speak to Moshe and impress upon him to articulate the message clearly – Hashem is the one himself who is articulating the message! Rashi again is already bothered by this issue in Parshas Yisro, the first time the aseres hadibros appear and we read, “Vayidaber Elokim… leimor,” and Rashi again explains that the “leimor” indicates a response; Bnei Yisrael responded verbally to each dibra.
My wife’s grandfather, R’ Dov Yehudah Shochet, heard from his rebbe muvhak, R’ Yosef Bloch a different explanation of “leimor” (which the Ohr haChaim anticipates) that is easier for me to try explain using an illustration than by trying to offer a definition. It’s 90+ degrees today, humid, and uncomfortable. Let’s pretend that c”v the air conditioning in your home breaks down. Your wife asks you, “Did you see the ad in the newspaper for air conditioners that are on sale?” The correct answer, even if you saw the ad, is not, “Yes,” full stop. The correct answer is to get in the car and go to the store and buy an air conditioner. But, asks the foolish husband, “She didn’t tell me to buy an air conditioner – she only asked if I saw the ad?” The question indicates that you heard only half the message. The question about the ad was the “vayidaber.” The “leimor” was to go buy the air conditioner. This is similar to what the Ohr haChaim on our parsha (see also O.C. to Shmos 6:12) calls “kollel hamechuvan b’lashon achier.”
“Vatizchak Sarah b’kirbah leimor….” and then she denies it. If she laughed, how could she deny doing it, asks Ramban? If she didn’t, then why is she held accountable?
The answer is (as my wife's grandfather explained) that of course Sarah did not break out in mocking laughter and would never dream of openly questioning the possibility of her having a child. There was no dibur -- she never said it. But “b’kirbah,” inside, she felt something. The Torah translates those emotions into words for us,“leimor,” so that we know what was going on.
When we talk about G-d’s speech, there is no resemblance to what we call speech. “Zachor v’shamor b’dibur echad” – we can’t even imagine what that means. When that experience described by the anthropomorphism “vayidaber Elokim” is translated into speech, “leimor,” the content is the words of aseres hadibros.
Coming back to the first pasuk in our parsha: tefilah has to come from within, otherwise the words have no meaning and don't carry any weight. “Va’eschanan el Hashem,” was a personal meditation. If we translate, "leimor", those thoughts and emotions into speech, the words that followed are the result. (This last point is from the Ohr haChaim)
There is another instance of “leimor” in the parsha that the meforshim struggle with: “Anochi omeid bein Hashem u’beineichem ba’eis ha’hi l’hagid lachem es dvar Hashem ki y’yreisem mipnei ha’eish v’lo avisem ba’har leimor.” (6:5) Rashi and Ibn Ezra write that “leimor” is a continuation of “l'hagid lachem es dvar Hashem,” even though there are intervening phrases (Ramban has a different approach). Aside from the problem of the word “leimor” dangling at the end of the sentence, divorced from the preceding phrase, the more fundamental question is why is the word is needed at all. We are dealing with the aseres hadibors, which Hashem communicated directly to Bnei Yisrael. Hashem here doesn’t need to speak to Moshe and impress upon him to articulate the message clearly – Hashem is the one himself who is articulating the message! Rashi again is already bothered by this issue in Parshas Yisro, the first time the aseres hadibros appear and we read, “Vayidaber Elokim… leimor,” and Rashi again explains that the “leimor” indicates a response; Bnei Yisrael responded verbally to each dibra.
My wife’s grandfather, R’ Dov Yehudah Shochet, heard from his rebbe muvhak, R’ Yosef Bloch a different explanation of “leimor” (which the Ohr haChaim anticipates) that is easier for me to try explain using an illustration than by trying to offer a definition. It’s 90+ degrees today, humid, and uncomfortable. Let’s pretend that c”v the air conditioning in your home breaks down. Your wife asks you, “Did you see the ad in the newspaper for air conditioners that are on sale?” The correct answer, even if you saw the ad, is not, “Yes,” full stop. The correct answer is to get in the car and go to the store and buy an air conditioner. But, asks the foolish husband, “She didn’t tell me to buy an air conditioner – she only asked if I saw the ad?” The question indicates that you heard only half the message. The question about the ad was the “vayidaber.” The “leimor” was to go buy the air conditioner. This is similar to what the Ohr haChaim on our parsha (see also O.C. to Shmos 6:12) calls “kollel hamechuvan b’lashon achier.”
“Vatizchak Sarah b’kirbah leimor….” and then she denies it. If she laughed, how could she deny doing it, asks Ramban? If she didn’t, then why is she held accountable?
The answer is (as my wife's grandfather explained) that of course Sarah did not break out in mocking laughter and would never dream of openly questioning the possibility of her having a child. There was no dibur -- she never said it. But “b’kirbah,” inside, she felt something. The Torah translates those emotions into words for us,“leimor,” so that we know what was going on.
When we talk about G-d’s speech, there is no resemblance to what we call speech. “Zachor v’shamor b’dibur echad” – we can’t even imagine what that means. When that experience described by the anthropomorphism “vayidaber Elokim” is translated into speech, “leimor,” the content is the words of aseres hadibros.
Coming back to the first pasuk in our parsha: tefilah has to come from within, otherwise the words have no meaning and don't carry any weight. “Va’eschanan el Hashem,” was a personal meditation. If we translate, "leimor", those thoughts and emotions into speech, the words that followed are the result. (This last point is from the Ohr haChaim)
Sunday, July 26, 2015
failed opportunity
The Sefas Emes asks a tremendous question. Chazal tell us that if the Beis haMikdash is not built in someone's lifetime it is as if he destroyed it. Our not having a Mikdash makes us as guilty as the dor of churban habayis. But how can that be? Surely it takes less zechuyos to maintain the status quo of having a Mikdash than it does to earn the Mikdash being rebuilt when you are starting from nothing!? We are starting in the hole, so to speak, with the deck stacked against us. Just because we haven't earned back the Mikdash doesn't mean we are as bad as they were!
Rashi interprets the list of places in the first pasuk of Devarim as tochacha -- these are all the things Klal Yisrael did wrong in the desert. One of the places mentioned is Paran, where the spies were sent from. One of the places is Chatzeiros, which Rashi (second pshat) explains refers to episode of Miriam's speaking lashon ha'ara, which the spies witnessed and did not learn from. Maharal in Gur Aryeh asks: doesn't this amount to the same tochacha two times? The word Paran is a hint that the spies spoke lashan ha'ra about Eretz Yisrael; the word Chatzeiros is a hint that the spies did not learn from Miriam and therefore spoke lashon ha'ra -- same thing?
Mahral answers that the failure to learn a lesson when given the opportunity to do so is itself a sin, apart from whatever wrongdoing that comes out from not having learned the lesson. The fact that the lesson that should have been learned from what happened to Miriam was not absorbed is itself a failure, irrespective of whatever happened later.
One of the big problems Yirmiyahu haNavi had is that no one took him seriously. Galus? Churban? Who is this guy kidding? I wonder if the generation that had the privilige of hearing the dvar Hashem from prophets and witnessing a functioning Mikdash even understood what this concept of galus. I wonder if the full horror of what Yirmiyahu was telling them could even register on their consciousness.
For better or worse, we now know what galus means and what Yirmiyahu was talking about. There are people alive still today, though fewer and fewer of them left, who saw firsthand what churban is all about. The dor that Yirmiyahu was speaking of could only relate to these ideas in the abstract, as some theoretical possible punishment -- we have seen the reality. For us not to learn from it, for us to not absorb the lessons of galus, would be a tragedy. We are not starting in the hole with the deck stacked against us. Aderaba, we are starting with the advantage of having been smacked with reality and taught a lesson that should inspire us to increased yearing for Eretz Yisrael, increaed tzipisa l'yeshu'a, and increased desire for geulah.
If that doesn't motivate us, if 9 Av doesn't inspire us, then indeed, we are as culpable as the generation of the churban. If it does motivate and inspire us, then this can hopefully be our last 9 Av in mourning.
Rashi interprets the list of places in the first pasuk of Devarim as tochacha -- these are all the things Klal Yisrael did wrong in the desert. One of the places mentioned is Paran, where the spies were sent from. One of the places is Chatzeiros, which Rashi (second pshat) explains refers to episode of Miriam's speaking lashon ha'ara, which the spies witnessed and did not learn from. Maharal in Gur Aryeh asks: doesn't this amount to the same tochacha two times? The word Paran is a hint that the spies spoke lashan ha'ra about Eretz Yisrael; the word Chatzeiros is a hint that the spies did not learn from Miriam and therefore spoke lashon ha'ra -- same thing?
Mahral answers that the failure to learn a lesson when given the opportunity to do so is itself a sin, apart from whatever wrongdoing that comes out from not having learned the lesson. The fact that the lesson that should have been learned from what happened to Miriam was not absorbed is itself a failure, irrespective of whatever happened later.
One of the big problems Yirmiyahu haNavi had is that no one took him seriously. Galus? Churban? Who is this guy kidding? I wonder if the generation that had the privilige of hearing the dvar Hashem from prophets and witnessing a functioning Mikdash even understood what this concept of galus. I wonder if the full horror of what Yirmiyahu was telling them could even register on their consciousness.
For better or worse, we now know what galus means and what Yirmiyahu was talking about. There are people alive still today, though fewer and fewer of them left, who saw firsthand what churban is all about. The dor that Yirmiyahu was speaking of could only relate to these ideas in the abstract, as some theoretical possible punishment -- we have seen the reality. For us not to learn from it, for us to not absorb the lessons of galus, would be a tragedy. We are not starting in the hole with the deck stacked against us. Aderaba, we are starting with the advantage of having been smacked with reality and taught a lesson that should inspire us to increased yearing for Eretz Yisrael, increaed tzipisa l'yeshu'a, and increased desire for geulah.
If that doesn't motivate us, if 9 Av doesn't inspire us, then indeed, we are as culpable as the generation of the churban. If it does motivate and inspire us, then this can hopefully be our last 9 Av in mourning.
Eichah: chiyuv of kri'ah and/or chiyuv of kinah?
Masechet Sofrim 18:4 writes that the reading of Eichah was accompanied by targum so that everyone would understand what was being read, even women and children, as women are obligated in reading the megillah just as men are. In the new Dirshu Mishna Berura I saw they quote a number of Achronim who struggle to understand why women are obligated in kri'as Eichah. B'shlama by Purim we have a special chiddush of "af heim ha'yu b'oso ha'nes," that since women we the cause of the miracle or involved in the miracle (machlokes Rishonim) they are obligated in the megillah, but nowhere do we find such a chiddush by other megillos. Furthermore, I would ask why the Mes Sofrim couples this din with the idea of reading the targum along with the text. Is there a din that if you don't understand kri'as haTorah, for example, that you are not yotzei? Why here does the Mes Sofrim make special mention of the need for targum?
A few years ago I suggested (based on a question raised by R' Joshua Maroof) that reciting Eichah is not only a mitzvah of kri'ah, like we find by Esther and kri'as haTorah, but the reading is also a kiyum of kinah as well. This is why the ba'al koreh sits on the floor while reading, even though kri'ah is normally done standing, as the sugyos in Megillah tell us, and this is why the main reading of Eichah is at night, when mourning is at its most intense, unlike other mitzvos of kri'ah which all take place during the day (see Ran in Megillah regarding Meg Esther). I would like to suggest that the chiyuv of women to hear Eichah is not a din in kri'ah per se, but stems from their chiyuv to mourn for Yerushalayim and is part of the kiyum of kinah. This explains why targum, understanding what you are saying, is integral to the mitzvah. It may not be necessary to understand kri'as haTorah to be yotzei, but if the reading is a kiyum is aveilus and kinah, one can only mourn if one understands what one is mourning for. Simply reciting empty words does not accomplish anything. (The MG"A generalizes from this Mes. Sofrim and uses it as a basis to suggest women have an obligation to hear kri'as haTorah on Shabbos. According to the approach I am suggesting the two mitzvos are not related. The poskim do not generally accept that view of the MG"A.)
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Va’yitav b’eini ha’davar -- praise or criticism?
We learn Mesilas Yeshorim and Chovos haLevavos as mussar seforim; R’ Bunim m’Peshischa used to learn Sefer Devarim. Devarim is Moshe Rabeinu’s tochacha, his rebuke and criticism of Bnei Yisrael for their failings. It’s odd therefore that smack in the middle of his mussar shmooz Moshe Rabeinu pays Klal Yisrael what seems to be a compliment. He recounts that they asked him to send spies to scout out Eretz Yisrael and, “Va’yitav b’eini ha’davar,” (1:23) Moshe thought it was a great idea. Imagine someone giving you tochacha and in the middle saying, “Remember the time you came to R’ Chaim Kanievski with that suggestion and he told you ‘Great idea!’?” That’s tochacha? That’s a praise to be proud of!
Two approaches (both based on Sefas Emes) to what is going on:
1) There is a quote quite popular these days that says “People get the government they deserve and they deserve the government they get.” Our leaders reflect who we are. That is undoubtedly true in a democracy, where leaders can be freely chosen, but it is also true (perhaps to a lesser degree) for leadership in Klal Yisrael as well. The gemara in Sanhedrin lists Tanaim and Amaoraim who themselves were worthy of ruach hakodesh, but the gemara says it was not given to them because their generation was unworthy. We are all products of our environment and affected by our environment.
Sending the spies was an awful mistake, as evident from the tragic consequences. When Moshe Rabeinu said he thought it was a good idea, he was in fact chastising Klal Yisrael. Moshe was telling them that they had descended to such a low level that even he was dragged down with them, throwing off his judgment and leading to error.
Why we don’t have leaders today of the caliber which we had in previous generations? The question that we maybe should be asking instead is why we are not people of the same caliber as in previous generations. We get what we deserve, and we can pull down the greatest of greats with us.
2) A few pesukim earlier in the parsha Moshe describes how, overwhelmed by the burdens placed upon him by the people, he setup a whole system of judges and officers. There were people who oversaw groups of 10, groups of 100, groups of 1000 – a whole bureaucracy. While before every Ploni, Almoni, Berel and Shmerel had to wait for hours on line until he could speak to Moshe Rabeinu about his problems, now help was available just around the corner at a local beis din, with smaller lines, a shorter wait, and faster service (sounds like a commercial).
“VaYitav b’eini ha’davar” is the results of that system. For all the benefits that were gained, there was one major downside to the new system: Moshe Rabeinu was insulated from the people. Had he been more in touch with the pulse of the crowd, perhaps he would not have consented so easily, or at least not thought sending the scouts was such a good idea.
We need to be close to our leaders and our leaders need to be close to us. The gemara (Brachos 27) relates that when Rabban Gamliel went to make up with Rabbi Yehoshua after expelling him from the beis medrash, he was astounded to see Rabbi Yehoshua living in such poverty that the walls of his home were black from his work as a smith. Rabban Gamliel couldn’t believe it. R’ Yehoshua replied by saying woe to a generation whose leaders are so out of touch with reality. In a biography of a certain gadol there is a story of how this individual was asked a shayla about whether or how (I forget the details) to do tevilah on a mixer, or some other appliance, and this individual had no idea what they were talking about -- he didn't know what a common appliance was. The book was relating this as an illustration of the gadlus of that individual. My reaction exactly the opposite. Woe to a generation whose leaders are so out of touch with day to day reality. How can they relate to the struggles and issues which we all face? How can they properly gauge the pulse of the people?
In case I don't get to write anything about 9 Av, have any easy fast!
Two approaches (both based on Sefas Emes) to what is going on:
1) There is a quote quite popular these days that says “People get the government they deserve and they deserve the government they get.” Our leaders reflect who we are. That is undoubtedly true in a democracy, where leaders can be freely chosen, but it is also true (perhaps to a lesser degree) for leadership in Klal Yisrael as well. The gemara in Sanhedrin lists Tanaim and Amaoraim who themselves were worthy of ruach hakodesh, but the gemara says it was not given to them because their generation was unworthy. We are all products of our environment and affected by our environment.
Sending the spies was an awful mistake, as evident from the tragic consequences. When Moshe Rabeinu said he thought it was a good idea, he was in fact chastising Klal Yisrael. Moshe was telling them that they had descended to such a low level that even he was dragged down with them, throwing off his judgment and leading to error.
Why we don’t have leaders today of the caliber which we had in previous generations? The question that we maybe should be asking instead is why we are not people of the same caliber as in previous generations. We get what we deserve, and we can pull down the greatest of greats with us.
2) A few pesukim earlier in the parsha Moshe describes how, overwhelmed by the burdens placed upon him by the people, he setup a whole system of judges and officers. There were people who oversaw groups of 10, groups of 100, groups of 1000 – a whole bureaucracy. While before every Ploni, Almoni, Berel and Shmerel had to wait for hours on line until he could speak to Moshe Rabeinu about his problems, now help was available just around the corner at a local beis din, with smaller lines, a shorter wait, and faster service (sounds like a commercial).
“VaYitav b’eini ha’davar” is the results of that system. For all the benefits that were gained, there was one major downside to the new system: Moshe Rabeinu was insulated from the people. Had he been more in touch with the pulse of the crowd, perhaps he would not have consented so easily, or at least not thought sending the scouts was such a good idea.
We need to be close to our leaders and our leaders need to be close to us. The gemara (Brachos 27) relates that when Rabban Gamliel went to make up with Rabbi Yehoshua after expelling him from the beis medrash, he was astounded to see Rabbi Yehoshua living in such poverty that the walls of his home were black from his work as a smith. Rabban Gamliel couldn’t believe it. R’ Yehoshua replied by saying woe to a generation whose leaders are so out of touch with reality. In a biography of a certain gadol there is a story of how this individual was asked a shayla about whether or how (I forget the details) to do tevilah on a mixer, or some other appliance, and this individual had no idea what they were talking about -- he didn't know what a common appliance was. The book was relating this as an illustration of the gadlus of that individual. My reaction exactly the opposite. Woe to a generation whose leaders are so out of touch with day to day reality. How can they relate to the struggles and issues which we all face? How can they properly gauge the pulse of the people?
In case I don't get to write anything about 9 Av, have any easy fast!
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
a climate of hatred
I cannot help but be depressed, angry, frustrated when I think of the events going on in the world. It does not put one in the mood to write. There is going to be a (hopefully) massive rally tomorrow in NY at Times Square at 5:30-7:30, see here. What saddens me is that, while I hope I am wrong, I am willing to go out on a limb and predict in advance that segments of our community will not show up. There are organizations that have yet to come out and publicly urge their members to attend. I cannot fathom or understand their hashkafa. Why? What are they waiting for? We live in a world where pictures matter, where sound bites matter. The press and public at large are not interested in hairsplitting Talmudic explanations of why you can't attend but still support Israel -- if you can't show up and be counted, then the world takes that to mean that you don't care. It's just that simple. I don't want to turn this into a rant to beat up on certain organizations , and maybe I've said too much already (I keep cutting sections out of this post until soon there will be nothing left of it : ) Forget about them -- our job is to focus on ourselves, our love for Eretz Yisrael, our hishtadlus, or efforts to make things better.
It's only once we get a few pesukim into Parshas Balak that we are told that "u'Balak ben Tzipor melech Moav b'eis ha'hi." Why withhold that detail? Why not tell us in the first pasuk in the parsha, when his name is first mentioned, that Balak was the king of Moav? Chasam Sofer answers that the Torah holds off because it's only once we start speaking of Bilam's deliberations whether to go and take the job of cursing Bnei Yisrael that this detail takes on import and significance. "Lev melachim b'yad Hashem." Rulers have no free choice -- the fate of countries and governments, the decisions of its rulers, is guided by G-d. Bilam thought to himself that if Balak the king was calling upon him to curse the Jewish people, then that must be G-d's will. And indeed it was G-d's will -- but only for the ultimate purpose of forcing Bilam to speak bracha instead of what he planned to say.
I would like to suggest a slightly different approach. Bilam had his own agenda and desire to curse Klal Yisrael. Had the world had strong moral leadership, he might never have dared to do so. However, when Bilam saw that "u'Balak ben Tzipor melech Moav," a Jew hater like himself, was now in charge, there was nothing to stop him. There was now a climate that not only tolerated, but encouraged his hatred.
We currently have a President y'mach shemo that is unequaled in American history in his hatred of Israel and the Jewish people. The word looks and says, "u'Balak ben Tzipor melech Moav," there is someone like us in charge, and therefore we have license to curse and attack and degrade Jews. There is now a climate of Israel hatred and Jew hatred as never before, and if it took Michael Oren's book to wake you up to that, shame on you.
The punchline, however, is that it was all a setup. Hashem deliberately led Balak and Bilam on, and we know how the story ended. The navi tells us that we have to remember the lessons of that episode where we saw Hashem's mercy, "from Shittim to Gilgal (Michah 6:7) What does the navi mean "until Gilgal?" Did Hashem's mercy somehow come to a stop there c"v? The Chasam Sofer (again, and also see Rashi on that pasuk) explains that Gilgal was our first stop in Eretz Yisrael after we entered the land. When in chutz la'aretz, we are entirely dependent on "tzidkos Hashem" because the challenges are so great and our zechuyos so meager. It's a free handout that Hashem gives us. But in Eretz Yisrael we have the home court advantage. There it's not "tzidkos Hashem" alone, but Hashem's mercy is something we can earn and something that, if we play our cards right, we will deserve.
It's only once we get a few pesukim into Parshas Balak that we are told that "u'Balak ben Tzipor melech Moav b'eis ha'hi." Why withhold that detail? Why not tell us in the first pasuk in the parsha, when his name is first mentioned, that Balak was the king of Moav? Chasam Sofer answers that the Torah holds off because it's only once we start speaking of Bilam's deliberations whether to go and take the job of cursing Bnei Yisrael that this detail takes on import and significance. "Lev melachim b'yad Hashem." Rulers have no free choice -- the fate of countries and governments, the decisions of its rulers, is guided by G-d. Bilam thought to himself that if Balak the king was calling upon him to curse the Jewish people, then that must be G-d's will. And indeed it was G-d's will -- but only for the ultimate purpose of forcing Bilam to speak bracha instead of what he planned to say.
I would like to suggest a slightly different approach. Bilam had his own agenda and desire to curse Klal Yisrael. Had the world had strong moral leadership, he might never have dared to do so. However, when Bilam saw that "u'Balak ben Tzipor melech Moav," a Jew hater like himself, was now in charge, there was nothing to stop him. There was now a climate that not only tolerated, but encouraged his hatred.
We currently have a President y'mach shemo that is unequaled in American history in his hatred of Israel and the Jewish people. The word looks and says, "u'Balak ben Tzipor melech Moav," there is someone like us in charge, and therefore we have license to curse and attack and degrade Jews. There is now a climate of Israel hatred and Jew hatred as never before, and if it took Michael Oren's book to wake you up to that, shame on you.
The punchline, however, is that it was all a setup. Hashem deliberately led Balak and Bilam on, and we know how the story ended. The navi tells us that we have to remember the lessons of that episode where we saw Hashem's mercy, "from Shittim to Gilgal (Michah 6:7) What does the navi mean "until Gilgal?" Did Hashem's mercy somehow come to a stop there c"v? The Chasam Sofer (again, and also see Rashi on that pasuk) explains that Gilgal was our first stop in Eretz Yisrael after we entered the land. When in chutz la'aretz, we are entirely dependent on "tzidkos Hashem" because the challenges are so great and our zechuyos so meager. It's a free handout that Hashem gives us. But in Eretz Yisrael we have the home court advantage. There it's not "tzidkos Hashem" alone, but Hashem's mercy is something we can earn and something that, if we play our cards right, we will deserve.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
why we mourn
The gemara (Sanhedrin 104) explains the double mention of crying in the pasuk in Eichah, “Bachoh tivkeh ba’laylah, ” as referring to Rabban Gamliel and his neighbor. Rabban Gamliel lived next door to a mother who had lost her young chuld. She would sit and cry all night, and when Rabban Gamliel would hear her crying, he would in turn start cry over the destruction of the Beis haMikdash. The gemara relates that he cried so much that his eyelashes even fell out.
Our community had the privilege of hearing from R’ Asher Weiss on Sunday night. He asked what the relationship is between this poor mother’s crying and the churban. A child can r”l die anywhere and at any time. That tragedy does not seem to have anything to do with the the loss of korbanos, the loss of the kohen gadol, etc., all the things we think of when we think of when we think about the churban habayis. Why are these mother’s tears immortalized in a pasuk in Eichah and why did they inspire Rabban Gamliel to cry over the churban?
R’ Asher Weiss answered that the nevuos that speak about geulah actually speak very little about korbanos. What they speak about is the establishment of a utopian society where goodness and peace reign supreme and G-d’s presence is felt in every area of life. That is what we are missing due to hester panim and galus, both the result of the churban. The tragedy of a child dying and the many other tragedies large and small that we experience and hear about are all due to that concealment of G-d’s presence that came about when the Beis haMikdash was destroyed. That is why when Rabban Gamliel heard that poor mother crying, he cried as well, mourning for the churban, mourning for the hester panim that is the cause of so many sorrows.
Monday, July 13, 2015
the appointment of Yehoshua
1) The most depressing thing about the affairs of the world is how little anyone cares. Whether there is an agreement signed with Iran today or no agreement signed is just a technicality. Does anyone believe that after extending “deadline” (a word, like “red line,” that has no meaning anymore) after deadline, Kerry will walk away without an agreement, even if getting one means complete capitulation to all that Iran wants?
I hate repeating myself, but I can’t help it – so where are the protests? Where are the rallies? Did anyone’s shul have a tehillim gathering last night? Is even that too much to ask for?
It makes me sick.
2) Was Yehoshua on his own up to the task of leading Klal Yisrael? Most certainly not. Moshe was told, “V’nasata mei’hodcha alav,” that he had to give over some of the majesty and glory that enveloped himself to Yehoshua. Without this, apparently Yehoshua was lacking something.
Chazal tell us that Moshe had thought that his own children would take over for him, but Hashem revealed that Yehoshua was the preferred candidate. The Sochotchover asks (in Ne’os Desheh): if even Yehoshua needed the “hod” of Moshe, why couldn’t Moshe’s own children take over? Even if they were lacking in some way, just as Yehoshua got the gift of Moshe’s hod, they too could have been given whatever it took for them to succeed?
The Sochotchover answers that Moshe could give of himself, of his “hod,” but only if there was something to receive it in. Becoming a “kli kibbul” is something the individual has to accomplish through his own efforts; filling the kli afterwards can be done with the help of others. Yehoshua put in hours to become the vessel that could absorb what his rebbe would pour into him; Moshe’s own children did not.
(My wife suggested that even if Moshe had to give over something to the next leader for him to succeed, there are still degrees. Yehoshua may not have been another Moshe, but he was still a better choice than Moshe’s own children.)
3) We’ve touched a few times on the connection between Yehoshua’s appointment and the parshiyos that immediately follow that deal with the korbanos ha’mussafim. An idea that came to my mind (based on R’ Tzadok haKohen in Pri Tzadik) this year is that perhaps the connection is meant to speak to this transformation of Yehoshua. Just as beis din can sanctify a day that would otherwise be an ordinary weekday and transform it into a day of kedusha that requires bringing korbanos (which would otherwise be chulin b’azarah), so too, Moshe through his giving of smicha to Yehoshua was able to transform him into the new leader of Klal Yisrael.
I hate repeating myself, but I can’t help it – so where are the protests? Where are the rallies? Did anyone’s shul have a tehillim gathering last night? Is even that too much to ask for?
It makes me sick.
2) Was Yehoshua on his own up to the task of leading Klal Yisrael? Most certainly not. Moshe was told, “V’nasata mei’hodcha alav,” that he had to give over some of the majesty and glory that enveloped himself to Yehoshua. Without this, apparently Yehoshua was lacking something.
Chazal tell us that Moshe had thought that his own children would take over for him, but Hashem revealed that Yehoshua was the preferred candidate. The Sochotchover asks (in Ne’os Desheh): if even Yehoshua needed the “hod” of Moshe, why couldn’t Moshe’s own children take over? Even if they were lacking in some way, just as Yehoshua got the gift of Moshe’s hod, they too could have been given whatever it took for them to succeed?
The Sochotchover answers that Moshe could give of himself, of his “hod,” but only if there was something to receive it in. Becoming a “kli kibbul” is something the individual has to accomplish through his own efforts; filling the kli afterwards can be done with the help of others. Yehoshua put in hours to become the vessel that could absorb what his rebbe would pour into him; Moshe’s own children did not.
(My wife suggested that even if Moshe had to give over something to the next leader for him to succeed, there are still degrees. Yehoshua may not have been another Moshe, but he was still a better choice than Moshe’s own children.)
3) We’ve touched a few times on the connection between Yehoshua’s appointment and the parshiyos that immediately follow that deal with the korbanos ha’mussafim. An idea that came to my mind (based on R’ Tzadok haKohen in Pri Tzadik) this year is that perhaps the connection is meant to speak to this transformation of Yehoshua. Just as beis din can sanctify a day that would otherwise be an ordinary weekday and transform it into a day of kedusha that requires bringing korbanos (which would otherwise be chulin b’azarah), so too, Moshe through his giving of smicha to Yehoshua was able to transform him into the new leader of Klal Yisrael.
Thursday, July 09, 2015
the greatest navi and greatest manhig also has to be a great parent
The Kli Yakar makes an interesting diyuk: in our parsha Moshe is told to go up to “Har Ha’Avarim” and take a look at Eretz Yisrael before dying. In Parshas VaEschanan the same mountain is called “Har ha’Avarim Har Nevo” and in Parshas Zos haBracha the mountain is only named as “Har Nevo.” Why does our parsha refer to it only by the name Har ha’Avarim?
He answers that the name “Ha’Avarim” is deliberately used because it sounds like the word “evrah” = anger. Shortly after being given the opportunity to see Eretz Yisrael, Moshe asked Hashem to appoint a leader. The halachos of yerusha that had just been revealed through the episode of Bnos Tzelafchad must have still been ringing in Moshe’s ears and he must have had a hava amina that his own children might take over his role. The truth, however, was that Moshe’s children were not worthy to take his place. There were many hats that Moshe wore in his lifetime, all with greatness – navi, rebbe, melech. There was only one hat that Moshe wore with less than stellar results – the hat of father. Moshe did not leave behind children who reflected his own greatness or who followed in his footsteps. There was an undercurrent of anger in Hashem’s words for this one failing. Apparently you can be the greatest navi and the greatest leader in the whole history of Klal Yisrael, but Hashem will still take you to task if you fail to bring up your children in your footsteps. Is Moshe really to blame for his children not turning out like him? I wouldn't say it, but the Kli Yakar does. On some level beyond what we would detect, Hashem found a lacking. We have to take it to take to heart on our own level. Whether you are the CEO of a company, the Rav of a shul, or anything else -- and we are all so very busy these days, no matter what the profession -- you also have to make time to raise your kids to be bnei Torah and bnos Torah. Of course, there is no guarantee of success no matter how much you put into it, but one must try as hard as one can and keep trying again and again.
A second point: in a span of six pesukim we have quite a number of appellations used to describe Klal Yisrael:
1) Moshe asks Hashem to appoint “ish al ha’eidah.” (27:16)
2) He asks for Hashem to not leave “adas Hashem” like a flock with no shepherd. (27:17)
3) Hashem tells Moshe to present Yehoshua in front of Eliezer and the “eidah.” (27:19)
4) Hashem tells Moshe to give Yehoshua some of his “glory so that “kol adas Bnei Yisrael” obey him.
5) Yehoshua is supposed to lead, “hu v’kol Bnei Yisrael v’kol ha’eidah.” (27:21)
6) Moshe obeys Hashem’s command and presents Yehoshua before Elazar and “kol ha’eidah.” (27:22)
I count five different terms: 1) ha’eidah; 2) adas Hashem; 3) kol adas Bnei Yisrael; 4) kol Bnei Yisrael + kol ha’eidah; 5) kol ha’eidah alone. Why so many different words for the same thing?
Rashi comments on pasuk 21, where we have the combination of both terms “Bnei Yisrael” and “kol ha’eidah,” that “kol eidah” is the Sanhedrin, the leaders; I assume “kol Bnei Yisrael” is everyone else. Does that mean that when Moshe initially voiced his request and asked for a leader “al ha’eidah,” he meant someone who oversees the Sanhedrin, not necessarily someone who would answer to the people as a whole? Was it like the hava amina raised in the constitutional convention of 1789 that the President should be elected by Congress or the Senate and not by popular vote? Or does the word “ha’eidah” there refer to the people as a whole and only here, in pasuk 21, does it take on a more technical meaning because it is used in conjunction with “kol Bnei Yisrael?” I don’t have any answers at this point – I’m just throwing out the question.
A final thought on these two sections -- the Ba’al haTurim takes note of an interesting anomaly: the word “v’ra’isah,” to look at the land, is written with an (extra) letter hey at the end. This is the only place in the Torah where this spelling is found. The Bh”T explains al pi derash that Moshe’s vision here was enhanced and he was able to see into the caves and crevices where the nations had all their treasure buried. HaKsav v’HaKabbalah gives us some grammar to chew on. We may not have a similar spelling of “ra’isah,” but we do have other words that have an extra “hey” tacked on at the end. For example, in Parshas VaYeira, when Lot offers to turn over his own daughters to the people of Sdom, he says “otzi’ah na eschen aleichem.” (19:8) The word “otzi’ah” is also spelled with a “hey” at the end. Why not just say “otzi,” like the pasuk “otzei es Bnei Yisrael mei’Eretz Mitzrayim?” Why use the longer word with the extra letter?
HaKsav v’HaKabbalah writes that there are two forms of the future tense: 1) words like otzi, ra’isa, etc. which indicate a definitive future action that will take place; 2) ra’isah, otzi’ah, where the extra “hey” indicates not just what will take place, but the desire/request for that something to happen. Lot was not just telling the people of Sdom what he would do next; he was asking them to consent to his desire and accept his gesture. Moshe Rabeinu in our parsha was nearing the close of his life. That look across into Eretz Yisrael would bring him one giant step closer to the end. It’s human nature to want to avoid death; therefore, Hashem asked Moshe not only to look, but “v’ra’isah,” with an extra “hey” – to welcome the opportunity and want to look, even knowing that it meant the end was near.
The Ksav v'HaKabbalah gives many more examples, some of which appear right here in the next parsha section. When the Torah speaks of the appointment of Yehoshua, Moshe is told, “v’tzivisah,” with an extra “hey,” to charge Yehoshua with his duty, “v’nasatah,” with an extra “hey,” to give over some of his glory/hod to Yehoshua. It is difficult to turn over the reigns, even if one’s own beloved student is the one taking over. Moshe is told to do so willingly, to desire and consent to stepping down. It is not just something that should happen because Hashem commands it, but it's something that Moshe should want to happen as well.
He answers that the name “Ha’Avarim” is deliberately used because it sounds like the word “evrah” = anger. Shortly after being given the opportunity to see Eretz Yisrael, Moshe asked Hashem to appoint a leader. The halachos of yerusha that had just been revealed through the episode of Bnos Tzelafchad must have still been ringing in Moshe’s ears and he must have had a hava amina that his own children might take over his role. The truth, however, was that Moshe’s children were not worthy to take his place. There were many hats that Moshe wore in his lifetime, all with greatness – navi, rebbe, melech. There was only one hat that Moshe wore with less than stellar results – the hat of father. Moshe did not leave behind children who reflected his own greatness or who followed in his footsteps. There was an undercurrent of anger in Hashem’s words for this one failing. Apparently you can be the greatest navi and the greatest leader in the whole history of Klal Yisrael, but Hashem will still take you to task if you fail to bring up your children in your footsteps. Is Moshe really to blame for his children not turning out like him? I wouldn't say it, but the Kli Yakar does. On some level beyond what we would detect, Hashem found a lacking. We have to take it to take to heart on our own level. Whether you are the CEO of a company, the Rav of a shul, or anything else -- and we are all so very busy these days, no matter what the profession -- you also have to make time to raise your kids to be bnei Torah and bnos Torah. Of course, there is no guarantee of success no matter how much you put into it, but one must try as hard as one can and keep trying again and again.
A second point: in a span of six pesukim we have quite a number of appellations used to describe Klal Yisrael:
1) Moshe asks Hashem to appoint “ish al ha’eidah.” (27:16)
2) He asks for Hashem to not leave “adas Hashem” like a flock with no shepherd. (27:17)
3) Hashem tells Moshe to present Yehoshua in front of Eliezer and the “eidah.” (27:19)
4) Hashem tells Moshe to give Yehoshua some of his “glory so that “kol adas Bnei Yisrael” obey him.
5) Yehoshua is supposed to lead, “hu v’kol Bnei Yisrael v’kol ha’eidah.” (27:21)
6) Moshe obeys Hashem’s command and presents Yehoshua before Elazar and “kol ha’eidah.” (27:22)
I count five different terms: 1) ha’eidah; 2) adas Hashem; 3) kol adas Bnei Yisrael; 4) kol Bnei Yisrael + kol ha’eidah; 5) kol ha’eidah alone. Why so many different words for the same thing?
Rashi comments on pasuk 21, where we have the combination of both terms “Bnei Yisrael” and “kol ha’eidah,” that “kol eidah” is the Sanhedrin, the leaders; I assume “kol Bnei Yisrael” is everyone else. Does that mean that when Moshe initially voiced his request and asked for a leader “al ha’eidah,” he meant someone who oversees the Sanhedrin, not necessarily someone who would answer to the people as a whole? Was it like the hava amina raised in the constitutional convention of 1789 that the President should be elected by Congress or the Senate and not by popular vote? Or does the word “ha’eidah” there refer to the people as a whole and only here, in pasuk 21, does it take on a more technical meaning because it is used in conjunction with “kol Bnei Yisrael?” I don’t have any answers at this point – I’m just throwing out the question.
A final thought on these two sections -- the Ba’al haTurim takes note of an interesting anomaly: the word “v’ra’isah,” to look at the land, is written with an (extra) letter hey at the end. This is the only place in the Torah where this spelling is found. The Bh”T explains al pi derash that Moshe’s vision here was enhanced and he was able to see into the caves and crevices where the nations had all their treasure buried. HaKsav v’HaKabbalah gives us some grammar to chew on. We may not have a similar spelling of “ra’isah,” but we do have other words that have an extra “hey” tacked on at the end. For example, in Parshas VaYeira, when Lot offers to turn over his own daughters to the people of Sdom, he says “otzi’ah na eschen aleichem.” (19:8) The word “otzi’ah” is also spelled with a “hey” at the end. Why not just say “otzi,” like the pasuk “otzei es Bnei Yisrael mei’Eretz Mitzrayim?” Why use the longer word with the extra letter?
HaKsav v’HaKabbalah writes that there are two forms of the future tense: 1) words like otzi, ra’isa, etc. which indicate a definitive future action that will take place; 2) ra’isah, otzi’ah, where the extra “hey” indicates not just what will take place, but the desire/request for that something to happen. Lot was not just telling the people of Sdom what he would do next; he was asking them to consent to his desire and accept his gesture. Moshe Rabeinu in our parsha was nearing the close of his life. That look across into Eretz Yisrael would bring him one giant step closer to the end. It’s human nature to want to avoid death; therefore, Hashem asked Moshe not only to look, but “v’ra’isah,” with an extra “hey” – to welcome the opportunity and want to look, even knowing that it meant the end was near.
The Ksav v'HaKabbalah gives many more examples, some of which appear right here in the next parsha section. When the Torah speaks of the appointment of Yehoshua, Moshe is told, “v’tzivisah,” with an extra “hey,” to charge Yehoshua with his duty, “v’nasatah,” with an extra “hey,” to give over some of his glory/hod to Yehoshua. It is difficult to turn over the reigns, even if one’s own beloved student is the one taking over. Moshe is told to do so willingly, to desire and consent to stepping down. It is not just something that should happen because Hashem commands it, but it's something that Moshe should want to happen as well.
Wednesday, July 08, 2015
don't just avoid sin -- avoid having the temptation to sin
Chazal (Brachos 5) darshen the pasuk, "Rigzu v'al techet'u" (Tehillim 4:5) to mean that a person should "yargiz"=incite his yetzer tov to fight his yetzer ha'ra. If that's what the pasuk means (as opposed to "rigzu" meaning to fear G-d, as Rashi/Metzudos explain al pi peshuto), then isn't the pasuk being repetitive? "Rigzu" = fight against your yetzer ha'ra so as to not sin; "al techet'u" = don't sin. Same thing?
Chazal continue their advice in that same sugya (Brachos 5) and tell us that if you are challenged by the yetzer ha'ra, the first response should be to run to the beis medrash; if that doesn't work, read kri'as shema; finally, if all else fails, think about the day of death. (Parenthetically, the Targum Yonasan at the end of our parsha comments on the phrase "haima bochim pesach ohel mo'ed," which describes the reaction of the onlookers to Zimri's brazen challenge to Moshe, that the people were crying and reading kri'as shema. Why does the Targum stick kri'as shema into the mix here? I can't recall where I saw it (my wife's cousin in his sefer Na'ar Yonasan quotes a similar idea sefer from the Nitaei Chemed, a talmid of the Mahari"l Diskin), but I remember seeing that the Targum is based on this gemara. The yetzer ha'ra was running rampant, and so the people followed the steps Chazal prescribed to stop it. Step #1 is come to the beis medrash, which is what happened when Zimri approached Moshe. That step failed since Moshe forgot the halacha in this case. The people then moved on to step #2 and began reading shema.) If step #3, remembering the yom ha'misa, works when all else fails, why not just cut to the chase and always use that strategy? Why bother with steps #1 and #2?
Earlier this R' Zev Leff was visiting the US and he mentioned this question in a shiur. He answered that Chazal did not want a person to walk around thinking about death all the time. That's not a healthy attitude. It's a last resort when nothing else works, but not something to make into the norm. My wife's grandfather, R' Dov Yehudah Shochet, offered a different answer. Were the goal simply to stop the yetzer ha'ra in its tracks, then maybe indeed we could cut to the chase and go directly to step #3. But the Torah doesn't just want us to not act on our urges and not sin. The Torah wants us to be people who don't feel those urges to begin with. The purpose of coming to the beis medrash (step #2) or concentrating on the ideas in kri'as shema (step #2) is exactly that -- to shape out attitude and character so that we become people who not only don't do wrong, but also are not tempted to do wrong.
These are the two steps David haMelech is speaking of in Tehillim: "Rigzu" - engage in battle with the yetzer ha'ra so that you don't even have the desire to do that which is wrong or improper; if that fails and you do feel temptation, then at least, "al techet'u," don't succumb and act upon it.
Turing to out parsha, Bilam was not satisfied with Hashem's response telling him not to go to help Balak, so he asked yet again for permission to go. Chazal tell us that chutzpah works even when it comes to getting things from Heaven and "b'derech she'adam rotzeh lei'lech molichin oso," and so Hashem eventually said yes. So why was Hashem so angry at Bilam for going? He asked and got permission?!
My wife's grandfather suggested that it's not the going which Bilam was at fault for - for that he had permission. There was no violation of "al techet'u." What Bilam was at fault for was the desire to go. Even though he knew it was wrong, Bilam could not curb his desire to go and so he nagged and asked until he got the answer he wanted. It's the idea of "rigzu," shaping his attitude and desire to be in consort with ratzon Hashem, not in constant battle with it, which Bilam failed to live up to.
Chazal continue their advice in that same sugya (Brachos 5) and tell us that if you are challenged by the yetzer ha'ra, the first response should be to run to the beis medrash; if that doesn't work, read kri'as shema; finally, if all else fails, think about the day of death. (Parenthetically, the Targum Yonasan at the end of our parsha comments on the phrase "haima bochim pesach ohel mo'ed," which describes the reaction of the onlookers to Zimri's brazen challenge to Moshe, that the people were crying and reading kri'as shema. Why does the Targum stick kri'as shema into the mix here? I can't recall where I saw it (my wife's cousin in his sefer Na'ar Yonasan quotes a similar idea sefer from the Nitaei Chemed, a talmid of the Mahari"l Diskin), but I remember seeing that the Targum is based on this gemara. The yetzer ha'ra was running rampant, and so the people followed the steps Chazal prescribed to stop it. Step #1 is come to the beis medrash, which is what happened when Zimri approached Moshe. That step failed since Moshe forgot the halacha in this case. The people then moved on to step #2 and began reading shema.) If step #3, remembering the yom ha'misa, works when all else fails, why not just cut to the chase and always use that strategy? Why bother with steps #1 and #2?
Earlier this R' Zev Leff was visiting the US and he mentioned this question in a shiur. He answered that Chazal did not want a person to walk around thinking about death all the time. That's not a healthy attitude. It's a last resort when nothing else works, but not something to make into the norm. My wife's grandfather, R' Dov Yehudah Shochet, offered a different answer. Were the goal simply to stop the yetzer ha'ra in its tracks, then maybe indeed we could cut to the chase and go directly to step #3. But the Torah doesn't just want us to not act on our urges and not sin. The Torah wants us to be people who don't feel those urges to begin with. The purpose of coming to the beis medrash (step #2) or concentrating on the ideas in kri'as shema (step #2) is exactly that -- to shape out attitude and character so that we become people who not only don't do wrong, but also are not tempted to do wrong.
These are the two steps David haMelech is speaking of in Tehillim: "Rigzu" - engage in battle with the yetzer ha'ra so that you don't even have the desire to do that which is wrong or improper; if that fails and you do feel temptation, then at least, "al techet'u," don't succumb and act upon it.
Turing to out parsha, Bilam was not satisfied with Hashem's response telling him not to go to help Balak, so he asked yet again for permission to go. Chazal tell us that chutzpah works even when it comes to getting things from Heaven and "b'derech she'adam rotzeh lei'lech molichin oso," and so Hashem eventually said yes. So why was Hashem so angry at Bilam for going? He asked and got permission?!
My wife's grandfather suggested that it's not the going which Bilam was at fault for - for that he had permission. There was no violation of "al techet'u." What Bilam was at fault for was the desire to go. Even though he knew it was wrong, Bilam could not curb his desire to go and so he nagged and asked until he got the answer he wanted. It's the idea of "rigzu," shaping his attitude and desire to be in consort with ratzon Hashem, not in constant battle with it, which Bilam failed to live up to.
Sunday, July 05, 2015
kana'im pogim bo
Ibn Ezra cryptically comments on Pinchas' killing of Zimri (25:7):
ויש בכאן שאלה.
"There is a question here," he says, but he doesn't tell us what it is. He does, however, give us the answer:
ויתכן להשיב שכבר נצמד זמרי בעדים
The footnotes of the Mossad haRav Kook edition of the Ibn Ezra explains that what bothered Ibn Ezra is that the text never mentions what this "ish Yisrael" did wrong -- all we know is that he brought a Midianite woman before Moshe and the people assembled in front of Ohel Moed. The answer is that the illicit act must have already taken place before Pinchas grabbed his spear, even though the text doesn't spell it out.
B'mechilas kvodam of the editor, I don't think that was the Ibn Ezra's question or the point of his answer.
Rambam writes (Issurei Bi’ah 12:4) that kan’im who kill someone who is bo’el aramis in public are deserving of praise for their zealousness, as we see from the actions of Pinchas. Ra’avad adds that this is true only if hasra’ah was given and the bo’el did not stop, otherwise this is not a praiseworthy act.
I think the Ibn Ezra held like the Ra'avad, and what bothered him is that Pinchas seems to act without pause, without taking time to give hasra'ah. Ibn Ezra therefore explains that there was witnesses present who saw what Zimri did. It is those witnesses (why else mention this detail?) who must have given the requisite hasra'ah.
What are the Rambam and Ra'avad arguing about? Magid Mishnah explains the issue at hand is whether kana’im pogim bo is a capital penalty like other misos beis din, or whether it is a unique chiddush din. According to Rambam, kana’im pogim bo is vigilante justice – it’s in a separate category from formal misas beis din. We are dealing with a unique halacha l’Moshe m’Sinai that can be carried out only at the scene and time of the crime, where guilt is clear and therefore no hasra’ah is required. Ra’avad, on the other hand, derives from Chazal (“haya lo lifrosh v’lo pireish”) that Pinchas did in fact warn Zimri; kana’im pogim bo is no different than any other chiyuv misas beis din which requires hasra’ah. It's just carried out by an individual instead of the court.
If this approach is correct, the Ra’avad severly understates his case. Failure to give hasra’ah shouldn’t just mean “lo amrinan harei eilu m’shubachin,” that the vigilante is not deserving of praise. It should mean the vigilante has in effect committed murder, because without hasra’ah there is no license to kill the bo’el!
R’ Shimon Moshe Diskin explains that even according to Ra’avad, kana’im pogim bo is a unique din, categorically different than misas beis din. The reason the Ra'avad requires hasra’ah is because kana’im pogim bo is a halacha v’ain morin kein – it’s something to be avoided, not encouraged. Killing is permissible in this case, but it should be seen as a last resort, undertaken only when all other options, including issuing a verbal warning, have failed. By way of analogy, he quotes the view of the Ramah that hasra’ah has to be given to a rodef before more violent action can be taken to stop him. It’s not because killing a rodef is like misas beis din – it’s because killing the rodef is a last resort. The gemara says if the rodef can be stopped by breaking an arm or leg, then there is no license to kill. Surely it follows that if yelling a hasra'ah warning to the rodef, "Stop or I'll shoot!" will get him to stop, killing would be an excess.
What bothers me is that if that is the case, why did Pinchas have to kill Zimri? Why couldn't he have just pushed him aside, or taken some other action to stop him?
Thursday, July 02, 2015
shalosh regalim changes attitudes
Rashi comments that the words of Bilam’s donkey’s question, “Why have you hit me three times /shalosh regalim?” alludes to the shalosh regalim that we celebrate. Bilam was being asked how he could possibly hope to curse and destroy a nation that celebrates the shalosh regalim. Much ink has already been spilled (e.g. see Maharal) trying to address the derash question of why the zechus of this mitzvah in particular stood in Bilam’s way. Why not the mitzvah of tefilah, of kri’as shema, or any other mitzvah? But aside from the derush question, there is a pshat question that needs to be addressed here. True, maybe you can’t ask kashes on a donkey, but this was no ordinary donkey. “Why are you hitting me?” seems like a pretty silly question to ask when the donkey had just banged Bilam’s leg not once, not twice, but three times, crushing it against the wall. Why Bilam was hitting the donkey is obvious! What was the donkey asking him?
The Mishna in Pirkei Avos (ch 5) tells us that one of the miracles that took place at the time of the Mikdash was that no one ever complained of being cramped for space in Yerushalayim. Chasam Sofer and others explain that the miracle the Mishna refers to has nothing to do with the physical space of Yerushalayim – the city boundaries did not magically grow bigger when crowds came. Rather, what happened is that people’s attitude changed. The same people that may have complained that their little home is too small, their kitchen is too cramped (what Jewish housewife does not long for a bigger kitchen?), having to sleep in bunk beds and share rooms is not fair, etc. forgot all that once they came to Yerushalayim. Even if the physical conditions might have been worse than at home, when you have the opportunity to come to Yerushalayim and be in the presence of the Shechina, who thinks of how big the hotel suite is? Does it really matter if your neighbor bumps into you a little if you have the opportunity to see avodah taking place? Three times a year thousands of people came to Yerushalayim for aliya la’regel and somehow, three times a year they all made space for each other and got along because they felt Hashem’s presence and therefore nothing else mattered.
Now we can understand what the donkey was asking Bilam. The malach was not out to harm Bilam, but rather was a malach of rachamim sent to stop him from doing something silly. Chazal tell us that whenever the malach Michoel (=rachamim) is present, the Shechina is right there with him, close by. So true, Bilam’s foot had been banged into the wall three times – there was no room to move. But when the Shecha is present, who thinks about how much or how little room they have? Who feels cramped and complains? The donkey asked Bilam, “How can you even feel that bump when there is so much else you should be paying attention to now?”
And now we understand as well why it is davka the shalosh regalim that are alluded to in the donkey’s question. These three times a year when all of Klal Yisrael gathered in Yerushalayim and no one complained about lack of space, no one complained about being crushed by the crowds or someone bumping into him, proved the donkey’s point – when you have the Shecina on your mind and have an awareness of what being in Hashem’s presence means, nothing else should bother you. If it does, you are at fault. (Based on Midrash Moshe)
R’ Ovadya writes in a teshuvah (Yechaveh Da’at vol 1) that there is still a kiyum mitzvah of aliya la’regel in our times. The Ran in Ta’anis (bottom of 2a in pages of the RI”F) writes that even after the churban, Jews would still gather in Yerushalayim and come to the mikdash for the regalim. (Side point: the Ran is justifying why in Eretz Yisrael the day to start asking for rain in davening, which is fixed based on the assumption of how long it would take for someone to get home after making aliya la’regel, remains the same even after the churban. Why is this a question? Once the date was fixed, shouldn’t the takanah still stand even if the reason no longer applies, so long as there is no beis din gadol b’chochma u’minyan to repeal it?) Tashbeitz echoes the same, and adds that even in his times, this nes/bracha of no one complaining of lack of space still held true. The kedusha of Yerushalayim is eternal because it is the presence of the Shechina; that presence influences the character and attitude of those who visit and those who live there (and maybe even those who aspire to live there) to our very day.
Wednesday, July 01, 2015
in a different league of bitachon
I assume everyone has seen this clip of Eliezer Rosenfeld at the funeral for his son hy"d, but in case you haven't:
My son recently told me a vort b'shem RYBS that the machlokes whether to pasken like Beis Shamai or Beis Hillel, whether to pasken like those who are sharper (Shamai) or the majority (Hillel), is an issue only if both sides are in the same league. But if those who are sharper are so sharp that they are on a different level completely, then the halacha follows that view. Halacha is like Rabbi Eliezer all over even against a rov because he was on a different level. RYBS held that it doesn't matter if there is a majority against R' Chaim on certain issues -- R' Chaim is on a different level than everyone else (see Nefesh haRav).
At least relative to where I am holding. it seems that there are people who are just on a different level and are in a different league of emunah and bitachon. When you see a clip like this, when you see the courage and strength shown, for example, by Rachel Fraenkel last summer in the face of tragedy, it really helps put things in perspective. Klal Yisrael cries with them over their loss; hopefully Klal Yisrael will take heart and chizuk and grow from their demonstration of emunah.
crime and punishment
Even
though we left parshas Shlach a few weeks ago, I want to post this anyway
rather than wait until next year. Rashi
quotes from Chazal that the meraglim had kefitzas haderech and managed to tour
the entire land of Israel in only forty days.
Hashem knew that the spies would return a bad report and Bnei Yisrael
would be punished with a wait of one year in the desert for every day they
spent on the road. Since Hashem wanted
to cap that punishment at forty years, He limited the spies’ travel time to
forty days. A talmid asked my wife’s
grandfather, R’ Dov Yehudah Shochet, a great question: why did Hashem have to
make this nes of kefitzas haderech to cap the punishment at forty years – why not
just mete out half a year for each day spent if it would take eighty days to
travel the land, or whatever the calculation would work out to in order to get the
desired result? Where and why is it
written in stone that the ratio has to be a year to a day? Why is that variable immutable, but the amount
of travel time it takes to tour the land, a fact built into the teva, can be
bent and played with derech nes?
Al
korchacha it seems that the punishment for a cheit is not like the sentence a
judge issues to a criminal; the punishment for a cheit is a natural outgrowth
of the cheit itself. To use halachic
terms as an analogy, I would say the punishment for a cheit is a psik reisha –
you can’t cut off the chicken’s head and get an outcome other than death, no
matter if you didn’t intend to kill the chicken, because by definition cutting
off a chicken’s head means killing it.
By definition, “yom la’shana,” the punishment for one day of being in
Eretz Yisrael for the sake of maligning the land results in a one year delay in
entering the land. That is immutable; it’s
an a priori rule. The amount of time it
takes to travel the land can be extended or shortened without changing the definition
of what “travel” is, but punishment and cheit are by definition one and the
same thing.
The
gemara (Chagigah 5) writes that when R’ Yochanan read the pasuk “V’haya ki
timtzena oso ra’os rabos v’tzaros” he would cry. “What hope is there for a servant who is
presented with great evils and sorrow?!”
How does a person just “find” himself – “timtzena oso” – in a world of
trouble? Aren’t those troubles the
result of a sentence in the beis din shel ma’alah that a person can appeal or
ask for mercy to temper? Again, we see
from this gemara that punishment by definition goes hand in hand with the
crime. It’s not some separate decree, but
is a natural outcome of sin itself.
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