Chazal derive from the pasuk in parshas Eikev, "Mah Hashem... shoel m'imach ki im l'yirah," that everything is in the hands of heaven except yiras shamayim (Kesubos 30). This is the one area where we are free to exercise our bechira chofshis, our free will. By coincidence the daf hayomi for this past Shabbos touched on this topicas well. The gemara (Brachos 10a) relates that there were some evil troublemakers who lived in R' Meir's neighborhood so he davened that they should die. When Bruria, his wife, heard what he was doing, she stopped him. Instead of praying for their death, she said to her husband, he should daven that they do teshuvah. The Maharasha asks how R' Meir could ask Hashem to cause people to do teshuvah -- isn't the choice of whether to do teshuvah, whether to have yiras shamayim, the one area where Hashem does not interfere with people's free will? The simple answer (Maharasha just says "yesh l'yasheiv" but doesn't offer an answer) is that R' Meir meant that Hashem should put these bad guys in a situation where it would be easier for them to make the right choices. In other words, Bruria was making a typical liberal argument: If only these rebellious youths were given a support structure and the proper environment, they would not be such bad guys. It's an easy answer, but I don't think it fits the language of the gemara very well. See Michtav m'Eliyahu vol 3 for another approach.
There are a range of views as to the scope of what is included in, "hakol b'ydei shamayim," except yirah. The Rambam in Shmoneh Perakim takes an expansive view of free will and includes under the heading of yirah any decision that has moral or religious implications. Who you should marry, how you make your money, etc. all impact on mitzvos in some way (there is a mitzvah to get married, there is an issur of gezel) and therefore fall under the heading of yirah and are subject to free will. At the other extreme is the position of the Ishbitzer, who writes in a number of places that in truth even yirah itself is dictated by G-d and the gemara simply is telling us what we can tell is controlled by Hashem given our limited human frame of reference. Between these extremes are other positions, such as R' Dessler in Michtav who limits bechira to a single focal point that rises and falls with man's level of religious committment.
The Rambam (Hil Teshuvah ch 5) asks how we can reconcile G-d's foreknowledge of future events with our free will. If G-d knows what is going to happen, doesn't that mean our choices are already determined? The Rambam answers by quoting the words of the Navi, "Lo machshivosei machshivoseichem," G-d's knowledge is not like human knowledge. The clash between foreknowledge and free will is only a problem within our limited human frame of reference, but not from G-d's transcendent perspective.
Ra'avad sharply critiques both the Rambam's question and his answer. He charges that the Rambam's answer is no answer at all -- it just avoids the question by saying it is outside the boundaries of our comprehension. If the Rambam did not have an answer, says the Ra'avad, he should not have raised the issue in the first place. The Ra'avad then offers his own answer, that Hashem, "hei'sir zu ha'memshala m'yado u'mesarah b'yad ha'adam atzmo," He circumscribed his own power and turned this area of free will over to man. Hashem's knowledge is no different than an astrologer who may know the future, but whose knowledge does not have an impact on events themselves.
R' Ahron Soloveitchik (in Perach Mateh Aharon) teases an interesting lomdus out of the language of the Rambam and Ra'avad. The Ra'avad understands free will to be a function of, "hei'sir zu ha'memshala," of Hashem withdrawing his control. Not so the Rambam, who is unwilling to set any limits on Hashem's authority and is therefore forced into trying to come to grips with the head-on collision of free will vs. Hashem's knowledge.
It's not relevant to Parshas Eikev, but while on this topic I can't resist posting an amazing vort of the Oheiv Yisrael, R' Avraham Yehoshua Heschel, on Parshas Toldos. Rikva felt kicking in her womb when she passed houses of avodah zarah worship; she felt kicking in her womb when she passed the beis medrash. She says, "Lamah zeh anochi?" and goes to seek the advice of a Navi. What troubled Rikva so much? The Oheiv Yisrael writes that Rikva thought she had one child in her womb. Every person, even a child, has to make certain choices. One person may choose to follow his heart to a house of avodah zarah; another person may choose to follow his heart into the beis medrash -- but we each must choose. Bechira chofshis is not just about how we behave -- it's about how we define ourselves, our sense of identity, our sense of self. Bechira is not about what you do -- it's about who you are. When Rivka felt what she thought was the same child kicking for both the beis medrash and the beis avodah zarah, she thought this child could not choose a path; she though this baby had no identity, no sense of self. "Lamah zeh Anochi?" -- "Where is the sense of 'I' that defines who this child is?"
The gift of bechira means that we are afforded the opportunity to define just who the "I" inside each of us is. Let's hope we choose wisely.
Showing posts with label machshava. Show all posts
Showing posts with label machshava. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Wednesday, November 09, 2011
do ethics and law always coincide?
You and a friend are trapped in the desert and you only with one jug of water between you. Do you split the water, in which case neither one of you will have enough to make it out of the desert, or do you keep the jug for yourself and leave your friend to perish? The gemara (B"M 62) has a machlokes: Ben Petura holds that loving your neighbor as yourself means splitting the water. R' Akiva, however, holds that "chayecha kodmin", a person's own life takes precedence.
Superficially understood, the central point under dispute is what the ethical solution to this dilemma is. However, and I'm not sure who he is quoting, Rav Moshe Kasher in his Perakim b'Toras haChassidus (p. 5-6) learns otherwise. In his interpretation, everyone agrees that the ethical ideal is to split the water -- the sevara of ben Petura is accepted as valid. R' Akiva's argument is that in spite of the ethical ideal, there is a gezeiras hakasuv of chayecha kodmin that determines how to act.
I thought this was a fascinating approach to the sugya in that it puts the din, the legal solution, at odds with (and in fact superior to) the moral ideal. I'm not sure what to make of seperating the two -- food for thought.
Superficially understood, the central point under dispute is what the ethical solution to this dilemma is. However, and I'm not sure who he is quoting, Rav Moshe Kasher in his Perakim b'Toras haChassidus (p. 5-6) learns otherwise. In his interpretation, everyone agrees that the ethical ideal is to split the water -- the sevara of ben Petura is accepted as valid. R' Akiva's argument is that in spite of the ethical ideal, there is a gezeiras hakasuv of chayecha kodmin that determines how to act.
I thought this was a fascinating approach to the sugya in that it puts the din, the legal solution, at odds with (and in fact superior to) the moral ideal. I'm not sure what to make of seperating the two -- food for thought.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Gam Zu l'Tova
Adapted from a shiur by R' Shlomo Farhi, sent to me as a guest post by Nosson Gestetner of http://gtorah.com:
The Gemara relates a story about a gentleman called Nachum. He was a man who had a a difficult life, but whenever something bad happened, he would say "Gam Zu L'Tovah - this also is for the good", and this is what he later became known as - Nachum Ish Gam Zu. But why does the Gemara call him Nachum Ish Gam Zu, literally, “Nachum Also”? He was famous for saying "Gam Zu L’Tovah" yet he is not called "Nachum Ish Gam Zu L’Tovah"! One would think that "L’Tovah" would be the key part of what he is remembered as, as opposed to the seemingly extraneous ‘also’.
To understand the answer, we must be aware that there is a fundamental misunderstanding with regard to what he did, and consequently what he is remembered for until today. He wouldn't pass a car crash and point and say it was “l’Tova” - one cannot label an inherently bad thing as "good". "Good" is clearly not an applicable adjective. The depth behind his words is as follows: What he did was recognise the masterplan of Hashem, and the web in which events in our lives unfold. He attempted to see the bigger picture, the greater good which is hidden from our direct sight. That web, that bigger picture, is l'tova. Parts of it may not be, or may not obviously be but in recognising that bad events are part of a good web, we should be able to say "Gam Zu L’Tovah!" So in fact ‘Gam Zu’ – his ability to see that this is "also (one more event)" is the key part of what Nachum said - it is the mechanism by which he could label bad as "also" being good. Not just "L’Tovah".
It take a great inner strength to truly be able to say, in the face of a bad event ‘this too shall pass’ and to really believe in the bigger picture and the greater good. But by working on that strength, we will be able to get to the stage where we can say, as Nachum did, Gam Zu L’Tovah – This too is for the good. The word ‘also’ is the very mechanism that allowed him (and resultantly us) to state something was ‘L’Tovah’.
The Gemara relates a story about a gentleman called Nachum. He was a man who had a a difficult life, but whenever something bad happened, he would say "Gam Zu L'Tovah - this also is for the good", and this is what he later became known as - Nachum Ish Gam Zu. But why does the Gemara call him Nachum Ish Gam Zu, literally, “Nachum Also”? He was famous for saying "Gam Zu L’Tovah" yet he is not called "Nachum Ish Gam Zu L’Tovah"! One would think that "L’Tovah" would be the key part of what he is remembered as, as opposed to the seemingly extraneous ‘also’.
To understand the answer, we must be aware that there is a fundamental misunderstanding with regard to what he did, and consequently what he is remembered for until today. He wouldn't pass a car crash and point and say it was “l’Tova” - one cannot label an inherently bad thing as "good". "Good" is clearly not an applicable adjective. The depth behind his words is as follows: What he did was recognise the masterplan of Hashem, and the web in which events in our lives unfold. He attempted to see the bigger picture, the greater good which is hidden from our direct sight. That web, that bigger picture, is l'tova. Parts of it may not be, or may not obviously be but in recognising that bad events are part of a good web, we should be able to say "Gam Zu L’Tovah!" So in fact ‘Gam Zu’ – his ability to see that this is "also (one more event)" is the key part of what Nachum said - it is the mechanism by which he could label bad as "also" being good. Not just "L’Tovah".
It take a great inner strength to truly be able to say, in the face of a bad event ‘this too shall pass’ and to really believe in the bigger picture and the greater good. But by working on that strength, we will be able to get to the stage where we can say, as Nachum did, Gam Zu L’Tovah – This too is for the good. The word ‘also’ is the very mechanism that allowed him (and resultantly us) to state something was ‘L’Tovah’.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Rav Kook vs. R' Soloveitchik: toras hatzibur vs. toras hayachid
From the blog of R' Aviner (link):
Despite this idea, the authorities mention the issue of deciding based on "the majority of wisdom" (i.e. greater knowledge and expertise in a particular area of Halachah), and there are even those who say that we follow a "majority of wisdom" over a "majority of number" (Likutei Ha-Ramban, Sanhedrin chap. 4 in the name of the Rahag). One must distinguish between "the majority of wisdom" for each authority based on his area of expertise: there are Rabbis whose expertise is monetary laws, and there are Rabbis whose expertise is in Kashrut, etc... Maran Ha-Rav Avraham Yitzhak Ha-Cohain Kook's expertise was in the area of the workings of Klal Yisrael relating the rebuilding of our Nation and our Land, the beginning of the Redemption and in understanding the Master of the Universe’s direction of our history. He investigated, clarified, arranged, and constructed a complete method of understanding, whose scope and depth is far above all of the Sages of the generation of Acharonim (later authorities).
For example, Ha-Rav Joseph Soloveitchik, with all of his brilliance, did not construct an all-compassing method of understanding, and all of his teachings were, in essence, about the phenomenon of the religious individual. He did not present a philosophy of communal faith: The Rav only discussed the religious experience of the individual as opposed to the communal religious experience which includes understanding Hashem's role is guiding the history of the Nation of Israel.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
the wisdom of Chazal (II)
(Continued from part I.) A human being can harvest the wheat, make the four, knead the dough, but once the bread is in the oven it is no longer in his hands. At that point something else takes over, or more specifically, someone else -- Hashem.
Rav Ashi knew that, and he knew that the evidence of Hashem's taking over (so to speak) is in the crust of the bread that forms because of the baking process. So why didn't he point to that spot as the focus of his bracha, the point over which the "hamotzi" is recited? Why did he not answer King Menashe's question? Here Rav Tzadok says something incredible:
והיה אפשר לרב אשי לסבור סברא זו מהיכן דקדים בישולא מעצמו גם כן דזה שכל פשוט דמהיכן שמקדים לאפות כבר קדם להיות מוכן למאכל אדם. רק כל הלכות של חכמי התלמוד לא היה אלא מדברים המושגים בהתגלות לבם ולא מן השכל לבד שזה אין נקרא חכמה כלל באמת. וכל זמן שלא היה בהתגלות לבבו הכרה זו שהיכי דקדים בישולא השם יתברך מקדים להכין לו המזון אז לא היה יכול להורות דמברך המוציא שם דאין דברי חז"ל והלכות שלהם כמנהגים הקבועים באיזה ספר מוסר מצד השערת שכל. דאם כן מה היה ההבדל בין התלמוד המקודש לספרים אחרים מחכמי ישראל. אבל כל הלכות שלהם הוא רק מהתגלות הלב עד שנפתח הפה בהכרח לומר הלכה זו שאי אפשר כלל בענין אחר. והיינו על ידי הרגשת הנוכח דהשם יתברך בפרט כל דבר עד שירגיש באמת בלבבו איך השם יתברך ברגע זו שליט בכל והוא אופה פיתו ומכין מזונו ולולי הוא לא היה לו לאכול עד שממילא נפתח פיו לברך המוציא בדוכתי דקדים בישולא על ידי הרגשה ברורה ומפורשת בלב כזו אפשר לחדש אותה הלכה להיות הלכה קבועה אחר כך בתלמוד. כידוע דכל דבר שכבר היה אחד שהרגיש בירור אור זה על בוריו כבר נפתח שער אותו האור בעולם. והוא פתוח אחר כך לכל דזה כל ענין עסק הדורות שקבע השם יתברך אף על פי שהם מתקטנים והולכים. לפי שכל האורות שנפתחים בכל דור ודור על ידי אנשי סגולה מחכמי ישראל אין נסתמים עוד והם פתוחים לעולם ונעשים הלכות קבועות לכל ישראל:
Because knowing the answer is not enough! So long as Rav Ashi did not feel in the depths of his soul that this was the truth, the fact that he mentally understood it was insufficient. R' Tzadok talks epistomology: Torah is not what Chazal understood, not some body of facts or knowledge which Chazal figured out or derived. Were that the case, the Torah of Chazal would be no different than any other collection of wisdom or body of knowledge. Torah requires "hisgalus halev" -- a revelation that springs not from the mind, but from the depths of the neshoma.
Rav Tzadok speaks in so many places of the gemara in Baba Basra (12, Ch. Ramban there) which tells us that although open prophecy has been lost, there is still an echo of nevuah which remains to the Chachamim. "Ari yish'ag mi lo yinabei" -- when prophecy overwhelmes a person with its roar, it is an inescapable message that must be delivered and spoken. When a talmid chacham is inspired by this "hidden" level of prophecy, he cannot but help teach the Torah revealed to him to others, who in turn are inspired and drawn to the message, their hearts opened. Knowledge, facts, wisdom, lack this quality, and are not Torah.
Chazal were not greater than us just in degree; it's not that their IQ was higher, they did better on their SAT, that they were all Mensa members. Chazal's understanding was different in kind. The wisdom of Chazal, the wisdom that comes from the clarity of "hisgalus halev", is a different type of intelligence than even the smartest of us have. That type of knowledge is not acquired by doing lateral thinking problems or brain exercises -- it's acquired by tzidkus and yiras shamayim and learning lots of Torah.
ולפיכך אף על פי שדורות אחרונים קטנים מכל מקום יש להם מעלה זו דננס על גבי ענק. כי כבר פתוחים לפניהם כל שערים שפתחו קדמונים והם מחדשים והולכים לפתוח שערים אחרים. אף על פי שהם קטנים מאד מכל מקום הם במעמקים יותר. כי הם כבר עברו שער בנפשם שנפתח לראשונים:
What does it mean that our generation "stands on the shoulders of giants"? If Einstein was a genius and I lived after Einstein, am I any smarter? Makes no sense. But again, we are not speaking of the mind, we are speaking of the neshoma. When Chazal revealed a Torah teaching, it was not just another fact to pass on to the next generation, but it was a transformation of the neshomos of klal yisrael. Chazal did not just make the unknown known, they made the unfelt into a hisgalus halev.
Rav Ashi knew the right answer, but he recognized that in his mind it was just wisdom, it was not Torah, and his teaching it in shiur would not open the hearts and neshomos of his listeners. That revelation could only come from Menashe, who not only understood the right answer, he felt it.
Given this framework, does it make any sense in the world for a person to sit back in his armchair and think that since Chazal lived in a patriarchical society, therefore they instituted patriarchical system of law, a system which we need to do our best to circumvent now that we are more enlightened? Does it make any sense to say that since Chazal lived in a society that had certain pagan ritual practices, they therefore adopted certain rules regarding nidah or other laws? Is "hidden" nevuah that comes from hisgalus halev subject to bias, subjectivity, a product only of the spirit of its time, or is it an eternal truth?
There is so much more to this particular R' Tzadok. See it inside (Resisei Layla #13) if you can!
Rav Ashi knew that, and he knew that the evidence of Hashem's taking over (so to speak) is in the crust of the bread that forms because of the baking process. So why didn't he point to that spot as the focus of his bracha, the point over which the "hamotzi" is recited? Why did he not answer King Menashe's question? Here Rav Tzadok says something incredible:
והיה אפשר לרב אשי לסבור סברא זו מהיכן דקדים בישולא מעצמו גם כן דזה שכל פשוט דמהיכן שמקדים לאפות כבר קדם להיות מוכן למאכל אדם. רק כל הלכות של חכמי התלמוד לא היה אלא מדברים המושגים בהתגלות לבם ולא מן השכל לבד שזה אין נקרא חכמה כלל באמת. וכל זמן שלא היה בהתגלות לבבו הכרה זו שהיכי דקדים בישולא השם יתברך מקדים להכין לו המזון אז לא היה יכול להורות דמברך המוציא שם דאין דברי חז"ל והלכות שלהם כמנהגים הקבועים באיזה ספר מוסר מצד השערת שכל. דאם כן מה היה ההבדל בין התלמוד המקודש לספרים אחרים מחכמי ישראל. אבל כל הלכות שלהם הוא רק מהתגלות הלב עד שנפתח הפה בהכרח לומר הלכה זו שאי אפשר כלל בענין אחר. והיינו על ידי הרגשת הנוכח דהשם יתברך בפרט כל דבר עד שירגיש באמת בלבבו איך השם יתברך ברגע זו שליט בכל והוא אופה פיתו ומכין מזונו ולולי הוא לא היה לו לאכול עד שממילא נפתח פיו לברך המוציא בדוכתי דקדים בישולא על ידי הרגשה ברורה ומפורשת בלב כזו אפשר לחדש אותה הלכה להיות הלכה קבועה אחר כך בתלמוד. כידוע דכל דבר שכבר היה אחד שהרגיש בירור אור זה על בוריו כבר נפתח שער אותו האור בעולם. והוא פתוח אחר כך לכל דזה כל ענין עסק הדורות שקבע השם יתברך אף על פי שהם מתקטנים והולכים. לפי שכל האורות שנפתחים בכל דור ודור על ידי אנשי סגולה מחכמי ישראל אין נסתמים עוד והם פתוחים לעולם ונעשים הלכות קבועות לכל ישראל:
Because knowing the answer is not enough! So long as Rav Ashi did not feel in the depths of his soul that this was the truth, the fact that he mentally understood it was insufficient. R' Tzadok talks epistomology: Torah is not what Chazal understood, not some body of facts or knowledge which Chazal figured out or derived. Were that the case, the Torah of Chazal would be no different than any other collection of wisdom or body of knowledge. Torah requires "hisgalus halev" -- a revelation that springs not from the mind, but from the depths of the neshoma.
Rav Tzadok speaks in so many places of the gemara in Baba Basra (12, Ch. Ramban there) which tells us that although open prophecy has been lost, there is still an echo of nevuah which remains to the Chachamim. "Ari yish'ag mi lo yinabei" -- when prophecy overwhelmes a person with its roar, it is an inescapable message that must be delivered and spoken. When a talmid chacham is inspired by this "hidden" level of prophecy, he cannot but help teach the Torah revealed to him to others, who in turn are inspired and drawn to the message, their hearts opened. Knowledge, facts, wisdom, lack this quality, and are not Torah.
Chazal were not greater than us just in degree; it's not that their IQ was higher, they did better on their SAT, that they were all Mensa members. Chazal's understanding was different in kind. The wisdom of Chazal, the wisdom that comes from the clarity of "hisgalus halev", is a different type of intelligence than even the smartest of us have. That type of knowledge is not acquired by doing lateral thinking problems or brain exercises -- it's acquired by tzidkus and yiras shamayim and learning lots of Torah.
ולפיכך אף על פי שדורות אחרונים קטנים מכל מקום יש להם מעלה זו דננס על גבי ענק. כי כבר פתוחים לפניהם כל שערים שפתחו קדמונים והם מחדשים והולכים לפתוח שערים אחרים. אף על פי שהם קטנים מאד מכל מקום הם במעמקים יותר. כי הם כבר עברו שער בנפשם שנפתח לראשונים:
What does it mean that our generation "stands on the shoulders of giants"? If Einstein was a genius and I lived after Einstein, am I any smarter? Makes no sense. But again, we are not speaking of the mind, we are speaking of the neshoma. When Chazal revealed a Torah teaching, it was not just another fact to pass on to the next generation, but it was a transformation of the neshomos of klal yisrael. Chazal did not just make the unknown known, they made the unfelt into a hisgalus halev.
Rav Ashi knew the right answer, but he recognized that in his mind it was just wisdom, it was not Torah, and his teaching it in shiur would not open the hearts and neshomos of his listeners. That revelation could only come from Menashe, who not only understood the right answer, he felt it.
Given this framework, does it make any sense in the world for a person to sit back in his armchair and think that since Chazal lived in a patriarchical society, therefore they instituted patriarchical system of law, a system which we need to do our best to circumvent now that we are more enlightened? Does it make any sense to say that since Chazal lived in a society that had certain pagan ritual practices, they therefore adopted certain rules regarding nidah or other laws? Is "hidden" nevuah that comes from hisgalus halev subject to bias, subjectivity, a product only of the spirit of its time, or is it an eternal truth?
There is so much more to this particular R' Tzadok. See it inside (Resisei Layla #13) if you can!
the wisdom of Chazal (I)
There is an amazing R' Tzadok in Resisei Layla (#13) that is worth seeing in its entirety inside, but I just want to discuss a little piece that I quoted elsewhere in a comment. A difficult gemara (Sanhedrin 102b): Rav Ashi was saying shiur and remarked that tomorrow he will discuss "our buddy" Menashe. That night King Menashe appeared to Rav Ashi in a dream and asked how he dared refer to Menashe as his buddy. "Do you even know where to slice bread when you say the bracha of haMotzi?" demanded Menashe. Rav Ashi replied that he did not, and he offered to say over that halacha in the name of Menashe in the shiur if he would teach it to him. Menashe answered that the bread is broken where it first forms a crust, but he then chastised Rav Ashi, "You don't even know where to slice bread and you call me your 'buddy'?!"
The gemara continues with Rav Ashi asking Menashe why he worshipped avodah zarah if he was such a talmid chacham and Menashe replying, but we'll leave that for another time. What's going on in this section of the story? If Menashe wanted to show up Rav Ashi, teaching him that he was not as smart as he thought he was, you would expect him to stump him with some difficult sugya in taharos, maybe a shverr Rambam ; ) -- why ask him davka this halacha of where to slice the bread for hamotzi? Even more perplexing: I can't imagine that Rav Ashi had not said "hamotzi" hundreds of times before -- how did he not know this halacha?
ואמרו בסנהדרין (קב ב) חברא קרית לי מהיכי קשרו המוציא וכו' פירוש כי הברכה שתיקנו חכמים הוא הכרת הנוכח שהשם יתברך זן ומפרנס ונותן דבר מאכל והנאה זו ועל זה מברכין ברוך אתה ה' בנוכח אלא דמכל מקום הסיום בלשון נסתר המוציא וכו' וכן כל הברכות כי הכרת הנוכח הוא בדרך כלל מה שהוא מורשה מאבות. אבל בדרך פרט שיכיר בכל ענין הנוכח מהשם יתברך המורה לו באצבע לומר זה הדרך לכו וגו' כענין שהיה בימות הנביאים זה נסתלק. וזהו ששאל מהיכי קשרו וכו' פירוש אם אתה מכיר בפרט נתינת השם יתברך לחם לכל בשר ולדעת מהיכן הוא ההתחלה שהתחיל השם יתברך להכין לך לחם ומזון שעל זה תברך לו בפרט:
I once wrote an article for my wife's magazine contrasting the mitzvah of challah with the mitzvah of bikurim. All a farmer has to do for bikurim is to go out to his tree and grab one of the fruits that Hashem made the tree produce. However, to fulfill the mitzvah of challah involves harvesting wheat, going through the whole process of turning it into flour, mixing that flour into dough to make bread, and finally seperating off a portion. After all that human effort involved in making the bread, the mitzvah of challah reminds us that it's still food which Hashem provides and not our own handiwork alone.
We all know in a general sense that Hashem provides our sustenance, our parnasa, whatever we need, but it is very hard for to identify with that when it comes down to the specifics, e.g. to feel that Hashem provided me with this computer, this desk, today's job, this minute's task. We start our brachos speaking directly to Hashem -- "Baruch atah..." -- but we end the bracha in a third person generality, "HaMotzi..." When we look at the loaf before us, we recognize in some vague way that Hashem had something to do with it, but we can't really put our finger on and we don't sense Hashem's direct involvement in this specific loaf.
This was Menashe's challenge to Rav Ashi. A bracha is a recognition of Hashem; "Tell me, Rav Ashi, what specific spot in this loaf can you identify as Hashem's gift to you? What specific step in the process of producing this edible loaf causes you to say, "'Aha! That's Hashem's gift?'" The Nevi'im who lived in the generation of Menashe were privy to recognition of Hashem in that way, but Rav Ashi was no Navi.
This was very long, so I decided to treat Rav Ashi's response as a new post
The gemara continues with Rav Ashi asking Menashe why he worshipped avodah zarah if he was such a talmid chacham and Menashe replying, but we'll leave that for another time. What's going on in this section of the story? If Menashe wanted to show up Rav Ashi, teaching him that he was not as smart as he thought he was, you would expect him to stump him with some difficult sugya in taharos, maybe a shverr Rambam ; ) -- why ask him davka this halacha of where to slice the bread for hamotzi? Even more perplexing: I can't imagine that Rav Ashi had not said "hamotzi" hundreds of times before -- how did he not know this halacha?
ואמרו בסנהדרין (קב ב) חברא קרית לי מהיכי קשרו המוציא וכו' פירוש כי הברכה שתיקנו חכמים הוא הכרת הנוכח שהשם יתברך זן ומפרנס ונותן דבר מאכל והנאה זו ועל זה מברכין ברוך אתה ה' בנוכח אלא דמכל מקום הסיום בלשון נסתר המוציא וכו' וכן כל הברכות כי הכרת הנוכח הוא בדרך כלל מה שהוא מורשה מאבות. אבל בדרך פרט שיכיר בכל ענין הנוכח מהשם יתברך המורה לו באצבע לומר זה הדרך לכו וגו' כענין שהיה בימות הנביאים זה נסתלק. וזהו ששאל מהיכי קשרו וכו' פירוש אם אתה מכיר בפרט נתינת השם יתברך לחם לכל בשר ולדעת מהיכן הוא ההתחלה שהתחיל השם יתברך להכין לך לחם ומזון שעל זה תברך לו בפרט:
I once wrote an article for my wife's magazine contrasting the mitzvah of challah with the mitzvah of bikurim. All a farmer has to do for bikurim is to go out to his tree and grab one of the fruits that Hashem made the tree produce. However, to fulfill the mitzvah of challah involves harvesting wheat, going through the whole process of turning it into flour, mixing that flour into dough to make bread, and finally seperating off a portion. After all that human effort involved in making the bread, the mitzvah of challah reminds us that it's still food which Hashem provides and not our own handiwork alone.
We all know in a general sense that Hashem provides our sustenance, our parnasa, whatever we need, but it is very hard for to identify with that when it comes down to the specifics, e.g. to feel that Hashem provided me with this computer, this desk, today's job, this minute's task. We start our brachos speaking directly to Hashem -- "Baruch atah..." -- but we end the bracha in a third person generality, "HaMotzi..." When we look at the loaf before us, we recognize in some vague way that Hashem had something to do with it, but we can't really put our finger on and we don't sense Hashem's direct involvement in this specific loaf.
This was Menashe's challenge to Rav Ashi. A bracha is a recognition of Hashem; "Tell me, Rav Ashi, what specific spot in this loaf can you identify as Hashem's gift to you? What specific step in the process of producing this edible loaf causes you to say, "'Aha! That's Hashem's gift?'" The Nevi'im who lived in the generation of Menashe were privy to recognition of Hashem in that way, but Rav Ashi was no Navi.
This was very long, so I decided to treat Rav Ashi's response as a new post
Thursday, January 14, 2010
ta'amah ki tov sachara
Daughter #2 actually wanted to give a dvar torah at our little siyum (as opposed to myself and my son who do not look forward to speaking publicly even in front of extended family), so since she is dabbling in learning Mishlei in addition to her schoolwork she spoke about the pasuk of “ta’amah ki tov sachara lo yichbeh balayla neirah.” Meforshim read eishes chayil as a mashal for Torah, and explain this pasuk to mean that when the eishes chayil sees that business is good = when you recognize the beauty of Torah, you burn the midnight oil to try to accomplish more.
My daughter explained the pasuk (OK, she had a little help) as applicable to a siyum. Where does a person get the energy to keep learning day in and day out as part of a daf yomi or some other cycle? The gemara (Shabbos 118) tells us that Abayei would make a Yom Tov when a masechta was completed by the talmidim. In that light perhaps the pasuk can perhaps be read as follows: “Ta’ama ki tov sachara” – when a person has experiences the tov = the Yom tov celebrating the making of a siyum, then “lo yichbeh ba’layla neira,” then he/she is inspired to continue from one project to the next. Indeed, so many people got chizuk and were inspired to start their own sedorim from events like the siyum hashas of daf yomi that it makes one think that if only MSG was reserved for siyumim on Mishnayos, halacha, Nach, Yerushalmi, etc. how much more would be accomplished : )
My daughter explained the pasuk (OK, she had a little help) as applicable to a siyum. Where does a person get the energy to keep learning day in and day out as part of a daf yomi or some other cycle? The gemara (Shabbos 118) tells us that Abayei would make a Yom Tov when a masechta was completed by the talmidim. In that light perhaps the pasuk can perhaps be read as follows: “Ta’ama ki tov sachara” – when a person has experiences the tov = the Yom tov celebrating the making of a siyum, then “lo yichbeh ba’layla neira,” then he/she is inspired to continue from one project to the next. Indeed, so many people got chizuk and were inspired to start their own sedorim from events like the siyum hashas of daf yomi that it makes one think that if only MSG was reserved for siyumim on Mishnayos, halacha, Nach, Yerushalmi, etc. how much more would be accomplished : )
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
toras eretz yisrael vs. toras galus
There is an amazing Zohar on Parshas Shmos which darshens as follows:
Vayemareru es chayeihem b’avodah kasha
B’chomer – zu kal v’chomer
U’belveinim – zu libun halacha
U’b’chol avodas ha’sadeh – zu braysa.
R’ Nevenzal in his sichos on the parsha asks the obvious question: were the Egyptians throwing difficult gemaras and Rambam’s at the Jewish people? Is this the meaning of galus Mitzrayim?
In making the siyum on Yerushalmi I discussed some of the differences between the Bavli and Yerushalmi: 1) Differences in language: the Bavli refers to the language of the Yerushalmi as “lishna kelila” (B”K 6); 2) Corruption of the text: Rashba attributes the lack of study of Yerushalmi to the corrupt girsa and nusach; 3) Most importantly, there are differences in logic and methodology. The gemara (Sanhedrin 22) darshens “B’machshakim hoshivani” to refer to the Bavli; the gemara refers to the style of learning is Bavel as “makas chovlim” as opposed to the peaceful ways of the Yerushalmi. Many sugyos in the Yerushalmi leave off with unresolved questions; the gemara sometimes lets an Amora get off without explaining how his chidush fits with a Mishna or Braysa -- there is not the same sense of intellectual warfare in the Yerushalmi as there is in the Bavli. My brother-in-law commented in the same vein that we see the “darchei noam” of the Yerushalmi in one of the last halachos in the Yerushalmi, the case of a corpse which is rotten yet is still metamei (on a d’oraysa level!) because, explains the Yerushalmi, of kavod ha’adam. The entirety of the three Bava’s in Yerushalmi is barely equal in quantity of material to perek Chezkas haBatim in Baba Basra. The Bavli is concerned with sevara, intellectual debate and development of the halacha, while the Yerushalmi is far more concerned with derashos and mesorah, kabbalah of Torah in the sense of received knowledge. In contrast to Nezikin, Masechet Nazir with all its complex derashos and halachos that are not "sichli" is even longer in the Yerushalmi than it is in the Bavli.
Rav Kook in his Orot haTorah writes that the Yerushalmi is related more in its methodology to toras hanistar than the Bavli; he sees its roots in tefilah, direct engagement with G-d, rather than intellectual speculation. The Yerushalmi could develop only in Eretz Yisrael where the soil is blessed with the possibility of ruach ha’kodesh and nevuah. The Bavli, writes Rav Kook, is “torah hamishtameres”, which keeps us hanging in there in galus, but the Yerushalmi is “torah hamisbareches”.
Perhaps it is this distinction between the derech of learning unique to Eretz Yisrael and the derech of learning which developed as a result of our galus which the Zohar is trying to convey. The shakla v’terya, the layer upon layer of hava amina and maskana, the intellectual battles (and it’s interesting that the Zohar mentions kal v’chomer specifically, as this is the only one of the 13 midos that can be darshened based on logic alone without a mesorah) of the Bavli are all a result of the ohr of Torah being masked because of galus. Of course shibud Mitzrayim was all about physical hard work, but part of galus is also this intellectual shift, the demand for mental ameilus of a different kind to simply understand Torah.
The gemara relates that R’ Zeira fasted 100 fasts to forget what he learned in Bavel when he made aliya. (My son pointed out R' Zeira is highlighted in the last sugya in Horiyos as the exemplar of exceptional ability to be maksheh u'mefareik, so his transformation from a Bavli-Amora to a Yerushalmi thinker must have been a dramatic change.) The Talmud Yerushalmi is not simply another layer of learning, like starting to learn Tosfos on top of Rashi, or the Ran or Rashba in addition to Tosfos, otherwise why struggle to forget everything else? Talmud Yerushalmi in its ideal sense demands a different mindset, one that is fundamentally at odds with the galus-mentality thinking in learning that we are so familiar with.
v'Zhav ha’aretz ha’hi tov – zu toras Eretz Yisrael. Tzion b’misphat tipadeh = Talmud Yerushalmi in gematriya. The renewal of interest in the study of Yerushalmi, the Talmud of Eretz Yisrael, is a harbinger of geulah, as our intellectual kelim shift gears to once again absorb “torah hamisbareches” in a manner and form that can only be appreciated in Eretz Yisrael.
My brother-in-law noted that the first letter of the gemara and last letter in Yerushalmi (aleph and daled) spell aid – v’aid ya’aleh min ha’aretz. We know that Eretz Yisrael is blessed first with the rains that then nourish the entire world, and so too, the bracha in learning comes first through Yerushalmi, the first layer of explication ever done on Mishnayos.
Nu, so today is the start of a new cycle, Brachos daf aleph (first thing to forget from the Bavli: all those vortlach you’ve heard about why the Talmud begins with daf beis) – dig in!
Vayemareru es chayeihem b’avodah kasha
B’chomer – zu kal v’chomer
U’belveinim – zu libun halacha
U’b’chol avodas ha’sadeh – zu braysa.
R’ Nevenzal in his sichos on the parsha asks the obvious question: were the Egyptians throwing difficult gemaras and Rambam’s at the Jewish people? Is this the meaning of galus Mitzrayim?
In making the siyum on Yerushalmi I discussed some of the differences between the Bavli and Yerushalmi: 1) Differences in language: the Bavli refers to the language of the Yerushalmi as “lishna kelila” (B”K 6); 2) Corruption of the text: Rashba attributes the lack of study of Yerushalmi to the corrupt girsa and nusach; 3) Most importantly, there are differences in logic and methodology. The gemara (Sanhedrin 22) darshens “B’machshakim hoshivani” to refer to the Bavli; the gemara refers to the style of learning is Bavel as “makas chovlim” as opposed to the peaceful ways of the Yerushalmi. Many sugyos in the Yerushalmi leave off with unresolved questions; the gemara sometimes lets an Amora get off without explaining how his chidush fits with a Mishna or Braysa -- there is not the same sense of intellectual warfare in the Yerushalmi as there is in the Bavli. My brother-in-law commented in the same vein that we see the “darchei noam” of the Yerushalmi in one of the last halachos in the Yerushalmi, the case of a corpse which is rotten yet is still metamei (on a d’oraysa level!) because, explains the Yerushalmi, of kavod ha’adam. The entirety of the three Bava’s in Yerushalmi is barely equal in quantity of material to perek Chezkas haBatim in Baba Basra. The Bavli is concerned with sevara, intellectual debate and development of the halacha, while the Yerushalmi is far more concerned with derashos and mesorah, kabbalah of Torah in the sense of received knowledge. In contrast to Nezikin, Masechet Nazir with all its complex derashos and halachos that are not "sichli" is even longer in the Yerushalmi than it is in the Bavli.
Rav Kook in his Orot haTorah writes that the Yerushalmi is related more in its methodology to toras hanistar than the Bavli; he sees its roots in tefilah, direct engagement with G-d, rather than intellectual speculation. The Yerushalmi could develop only in Eretz Yisrael where the soil is blessed with the possibility of ruach ha’kodesh and nevuah. The Bavli, writes Rav Kook, is “torah hamishtameres”, which keeps us hanging in there in galus, but the Yerushalmi is “torah hamisbareches”.
Perhaps it is this distinction between the derech of learning unique to Eretz Yisrael and the derech of learning which developed as a result of our galus which the Zohar is trying to convey. The shakla v’terya, the layer upon layer of hava amina and maskana, the intellectual battles (and it’s interesting that the Zohar mentions kal v’chomer specifically, as this is the only one of the 13 midos that can be darshened based on logic alone without a mesorah) of the Bavli are all a result of the ohr of Torah being masked because of galus. Of course shibud Mitzrayim was all about physical hard work, but part of galus is also this intellectual shift, the demand for mental ameilus of a different kind to simply understand Torah.
The gemara relates that R’ Zeira fasted 100 fasts to forget what he learned in Bavel when he made aliya. (My son pointed out R' Zeira is highlighted in the last sugya in Horiyos as the exemplar of exceptional ability to be maksheh u'mefareik, so his transformation from a Bavli-Amora to a Yerushalmi thinker must have been a dramatic change.) The Talmud Yerushalmi is not simply another layer of learning, like starting to learn Tosfos on top of Rashi, or the Ran or Rashba in addition to Tosfos, otherwise why struggle to forget everything else? Talmud Yerushalmi in its ideal sense demands a different mindset, one that is fundamentally at odds with the galus-mentality thinking in learning that we are so familiar with.
v'Zhav ha’aretz ha’hi tov – zu toras Eretz Yisrael. Tzion b’misphat tipadeh = Talmud Yerushalmi in gematriya. The renewal of interest in the study of Yerushalmi, the Talmud of Eretz Yisrael, is a harbinger of geulah, as our intellectual kelim shift gears to once again absorb “torah hamisbareches” in a manner and form that can only be appreciated in Eretz Yisrael.
My brother-in-law noted that the first letter of the gemara and last letter in Yerushalmi (aleph and daled) spell aid – v’aid ya’aleh min ha’aretz. We know that Eretz Yisrael is blessed first with the rains that then nourish the entire world, and so too, the bracha in learning comes first through Yerushalmi, the first layer of explication ever done on Mishnayos.
Nu, so today is the start of a new cycle, Brachos daf aleph (first thing to forget from the Bavli: all those vortlach you’ve heard about why the Talmud begins with daf beis) – dig in!
Friday, January 08, 2010
"mei'Az basi" to "Az Yashir": emunah and shirah
The Midrash tells us that Moshe sinned with the word “az” when he complained “U’mei’Az basi el Phraoh l’dabeir b’shemecha he’ra l’am hazeh,” and he corrected his sin with the use of the same word “az” when he sang “Az yashir Moshe.” It's not the coincidence of a common word which the Midrash is emphasizing, but rather the thematic relationship between these pesukim and events.
The Beis HaLevi’s explanation of the Midrash is one of the more famous/popular ones: At the time of redemption we will be privileged to look back and understand how all that we thought was bad and to our determent was really a bracha in disguise. Moshe sang “Az yashir” with the realization that the suffering he complained of and questioned, “m’az basi el Pharoah,” was really all for the good.
Shifting from Brisk to Telz, R’ Bloch offers a different explanation which I found amazingly deep and insightful, but at the same time I am troubled by the message. The Midrash elsewhere tells us that despite the many miracles G-d performed before the redemption from Egypt, no one ever sang shirah until Yam Suf. Why not? Why did Avraham not sing shira when he escaped from the kivshan ha’aish? Why did Yitzchak not sing shirah when spared from akeidah? Why didn’t Ya’akov sing shirah when he escaped Lavan’s home?
R’ Bloch explains that this lack of shirah is not due to some failing on the part of those tzadikim, but aderaba, precisely because of their greatness. Emunah means accepting with complete equanimity that all that occurs in the world is ultimately, whether we see it as such or not, a means to greater kvod shamayim and an expression of Hashem's perfect plan. Avraham accepted that whether he personally lived through the kivshan or not, the result will ultimately be greater kvod shamayim, so why sing shirah at being spared? Why sing shirah or be surprised at salvation when one knows that Hashem runs the world according to a plan which guarantees good for the righteous and evil for wrongdoers?
Moshe Rabeinu, however, did not accept with equanimity the suffering and pain of the Jewish people. He questioned and cried out with “az” because he could not see how kvod shamayim was enhanced by the prolonging of galus. And precisely because Moshe had the capacity to be moved and pained by Jewish suffering that gave him the capacity to be moved and rejoice in shirah when seeing the redemption of the Jewish people.
R’ Bloch contrasts Moshe’s shirah with the shirah of David haMelech. Chazal tell us a harp was suspended above David’s bed which played when the North wind blew. Unlike Moshe’s shirah which was inspired by the shift in circumstance from the “az” of galus to the “az” of geulah, David’s harp played in shirah even while he was still asleep and not conscious or aware of the comings and goings in the world; David’s shirah played as the North wind, the wind that always exists in nature, blew. David haMelech’s shirah was not inspired by the miraculous, but was a shirah that celebrated the day to day presence of Hashem in the world. This is the shirah which we will sing with the coming of Moshiach.
The interpretation is brilliant, but am uncomfortable with the upshot of the message. Who is superior – those tzadikim who accept with equanimity Hashem’s hashgacha, those tzadikim who do not suffer at the experience of pain or rejoice in redemption because it is so clear to them that all is in Hashem’s hands and the proper outcome is inevitable, or those tzadikim whose souls cry out at tragedy and soar in joy? R’ Bloch sees the former as having a superior level of emunah, while describing the latter having a emunah which is contingent (to some degree) on circumstance. Emunah which accepts all with equinimaity is superior to emunah which is diminished and challenged by the perception of evil, but which is elevated when salvation arrives.
I am uncomfortable with this idea of placing emunah is conflict with what I can only decribe as one's humanity. Need empathizing with suffering and tragedy, even questioning suffering and tragedy, be seen as indicative of a shortcoming of belief? Or might one not argue that it is precisely a deep-seated belief in hashgacha that leads one to protest suffering and question what appears to be injustice? Without belief, there is no room for questions, as an uncaring mechanistic universe does not promise either justice or sympathy.
Chazal tell us that Chizkiyahu would have been Moshiach had he only sung shirah when Sancheirev was defeated. The Ch. haRI”M explains (akin to R' Bloch) that it was the tzidkus of Chizkiyahu that led him to not sing shirah -- so confident was Chizkiyahu in his emunah that he too, like other tzadikim, accepted with equanimity the defeat of Sancheirev without shock or surprise. Yet, it seems to me that the punchline of the gemara is that singing shirah is the higher madreiga, as that would have led to the complete tikun of the world and the arrival of Moshiach. Yes, perhaps the ability to experience the joy of singing shirah comes at the price of feeling the challenge to emunah of pain and suffering, but sometimes the price is one worth paying.
The Beis HaLevi’s explanation of the Midrash is one of the more famous/popular ones: At the time of redemption we will be privileged to look back and understand how all that we thought was bad and to our determent was really a bracha in disguise. Moshe sang “Az yashir” with the realization that the suffering he complained of and questioned, “m’az basi el Pharoah,” was really all for the good.
Shifting from Brisk to Telz, R’ Bloch offers a different explanation which I found amazingly deep and insightful, but at the same time I am troubled by the message. The Midrash elsewhere tells us that despite the many miracles G-d performed before the redemption from Egypt, no one ever sang shirah until Yam Suf. Why not? Why did Avraham not sing shira when he escaped from the kivshan ha’aish? Why did Yitzchak not sing shirah when spared from akeidah? Why didn’t Ya’akov sing shirah when he escaped Lavan’s home?
R’ Bloch explains that this lack of shirah is not due to some failing on the part of those tzadikim, but aderaba, precisely because of their greatness. Emunah means accepting with complete equanimity that all that occurs in the world is ultimately, whether we see it as such or not, a means to greater kvod shamayim and an expression of Hashem's perfect plan. Avraham accepted that whether he personally lived through the kivshan or not, the result will ultimately be greater kvod shamayim, so why sing shirah at being spared? Why sing shirah or be surprised at salvation when one knows that Hashem runs the world according to a plan which guarantees good for the righteous and evil for wrongdoers?
Moshe Rabeinu, however, did not accept with equanimity the suffering and pain of the Jewish people. He questioned and cried out with “az” because he could not see how kvod shamayim was enhanced by the prolonging of galus. And precisely because Moshe had the capacity to be moved and pained by Jewish suffering that gave him the capacity to be moved and rejoice in shirah when seeing the redemption of the Jewish people.
R’ Bloch contrasts Moshe’s shirah with the shirah of David haMelech. Chazal tell us a harp was suspended above David’s bed which played when the North wind blew. Unlike Moshe’s shirah which was inspired by the shift in circumstance from the “az” of galus to the “az” of geulah, David’s harp played in shirah even while he was still asleep and not conscious or aware of the comings and goings in the world; David’s shirah played as the North wind, the wind that always exists in nature, blew. David haMelech’s shirah was not inspired by the miraculous, but was a shirah that celebrated the day to day presence of Hashem in the world. This is the shirah which we will sing with the coming of Moshiach.
The interpretation is brilliant, but am uncomfortable with the upshot of the message. Who is superior – those tzadikim who accept with equanimity Hashem’s hashgacha, those tzadikim who do not suffer at the experience of pain or rejoice in redemption because it is so clear to them that all is in Hashem’s hands and the proper outcome is inevitable, or those tzadikim whose souls cry out at tragedy and soar in joy? R’ Bloch sees the former as having a superior level of emunah, while describing the latter having a emunah which is contingent (to some degree) on circumstance. Emunah which accepts all with equinimaity is superior to emunah which is diminished and challenged by the perception of evil, but which is elevated when salvation arrives.
I am uncomfortable with this idea of placing emunah is conflict with what I can only decribe as one's humanity. Need empathizing with suffering and tragedy, even questioning suffering and tragedy, be seen as indicative of a shortcoming of belief? Or might one not argue that it is precisely a deep-seated belief in hashgacha that leads one to protest suffering and question what appears to be injustice? Without belief, there is no room for questions, as an uncaring mechanistic universe does not promise either justice or sympathy.
Chazal tell us that Chizkiyahu would have been Moshiach had he only sung shirah when Sancheirev was defeated. The Ch. haRI”M explains (akin to R' Bloch) that it was the tzidkus of Chizkiyahu that led him to not sing shirah -- so confident was Chizkiyahu in his emunah that he too, like other tzadikim, accepted with equanimity the defeat of Sancheirev without shock or surprise. Yet, it seems to me that the punchline of the gemara is that singing shirah is the higher madreiga, as that would have led to the complete tikun of the world and the arrival of Moshiach. Yes, perhaps the ability to experience the joy of singing shirah comes at the price of feeling the challenge to emunah of pain and suffering, but sometimes the price is one worth paying.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
starving at the doors of the banquet
Not Brisker Yeshivish has three back to back must-read posts (I, II, III) cataloging some of the common themes found in the thinking and writing of the the so-called rationalist/academic camp. I'm hesitant to use it as an example, but what the heck -- L'havdil, here is a passage from The Seven Storey Mountain by Thomas Merton, a book which seems to have waned in popularity but still makes some of the "100 best books of the century" lists. On p. 175 Merton writes:
And here the academic will undoubtedly object and say it is not the displacement of the passion and love of religion which is his aim, but rather his goal is simply for a different kind of passion, one that comes from understanding based on fact and reason rather than myth and folklore. Objection noted, but I don't find it to be a credible argument. In my limited experience I have not found learning or avodah outside the walls of the traditional yeshiva, where the assumptions of that world are questioned or rejected, on par with the learning and avodah within those walls -- you can be your own judge. Yes, there are interesting questions the scholar asks, articles and books that we can gain from, just like there is something to be gained by reading about the religious conversion of Merton. But I would rather stay at my own "tisch" and grab a fruit off the other table than sit at the table of the academics and sacrifice the banquet of passion and commitment on my own.
Different religion, same contrast between the world of "objective" scholarly study and passionate belief.How many there are in the same situation! They stand in the stacks of libraries and turn over the pages of St. Thomas's Summa with a kind of curious reverence. They talk in their seminars about "Thomas" and "Scotus" and "Augustine" and "Bonaventure" and they are familiar with Maritain and Gibson, and they have read all the poems of Hopkins -- and indeed they know more about what is best in the Catholic literary and philosophical tradition than most Catholics ever do on this earth. They sometimes go to Mass, and wonder at the dignity and restraint of the old liturgy. They are impressed by the organization of a Church in which everywhere the priests, even the most un-gifted, are able to preach at least something of a tremendous, profound, unified doctrine, and to dispense mysteriously efficacious help to all those who come to them with troubles and needs.
In a certain sense, these people have a better appreciation of the Church and of Catholicism than many Catholics have: an appreciation which is detached and intellectual and objective. But they never come into the Church. They stand and starve in the doors of the banquet -- the banquet to which they surely realize that they are invited -- while those more poor, more stupid, less gifted, less educated, sometimes even less virtuous than they, enter in and are filled at those tremendous tables.
And here the academic will undoubtedly object and say it is not the displacement of the passion and love of religion which is his aim, but rather his goal is simply for a different kind of passion, one that comes from understanding based on fact and reason rather than myth and folklore. Objection noted, but I don't find it to be a credible argument. In my limited experience I have not found learning or avodah outside the walls of the traditional yeshiva, where the assumptions of that world are questioned or rejected, on par with the learning and avodah within those walls -- you can be your own judge. Yes, there are interesting questions the scholar asks, articles and books that we can gain from, just like there is something to be gained by reading about the religious conversion of Merton. But I would rather stay at my own "tisch" and grab a fruit off the other table than sit at the table of the academics and sacrifice the banquet of passion and commitment on my own.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Ya'akov's tears: Questions that result from the reader's paradigm
I am a big believer in appreciating seforim on their own terms. There are multiple ways to skin a cat and answer a kashe, and a pilpul of the Chasam Sofer is no less interesting or valid than a distinction of R’ Chaim Brisker. The key to unlocking and enjoying a sefer is to accept the terms of the system being used, the boundaries of the thinker’s paradigm, and then exploring how the author maneuvers within it. Stepping outside the box and comparing and contrasting paradigms is interesting, but some people get so bogged down in defending one system over the other that they never come to any appreciation for the genius of the maneuvering and navigation and chiddushim that can come out of a system different than the one they are locked into.
I remember once posting about the twists and turns the Parashas Derachim takes us through in exploring how the Avos kept the entire Torah, with every detail, and at the same time retained their status as bnei Noach. A ben Noach cannot keep Shabbos – what did the Avos do? How did Ya’akov marry two sisters if he kept the Torah? Some people were not even willing to entertain the question because they never got past insisting that the Avos had some general sense of commitment but not did not observe the details of every mitzvah d’oraysa and derabbanan. The torah and genius of the Parashas Derachim are a closed book if you reject the frame of reference needed to set up the question. Or to take another example, if you cannot accept using a mystical framework to read chumash, you have basically shut the door on hundreds of seforim whose insight might enrich your avodas Hashem.
I have noticed that the Ayeles haShachar of Rav Shteinman on chumash adopts the same paradigm or framework as the Meshech Chochma, the Netziv, Maharal Diskin, and especially the Brisker Rav and the Rogatchover, and others. These gedolim read every detail in chumash (and Rashi) as having halachic import or explainable on purely halachic terms (and I know that is a gross oversimplification and exaggeration, but in one sentence I can’t do better). For example, in the post I did earlier on why Ya’akov felt bad about sleeping where he did, the Brisker Rav comes up an explanation based on the halachos of morah mikdash rather than practical, moral, or theological reasons.
Every now and then I find a question where it seems that the boundaries of the paradigm create the real stumbling block rather than a path for a solution (similar to the way the Parashas Derachim's understanding of the Avos' shemiras hamitzvos creates a set of problems that he then resolves, but which might not exist if not for the framework he adopts) and I wonder if there is a deliberate attempt to find an answer that works within the thinker's framework or whether the whole thing operates on some unconscious level and once you are submerged in an approach it eclipses other solutions. You could ask this question in any number of contexts; I raise it here for no other reason than it hit me again when I saw this question of Rav Shteinman on VaYeitzei:
Ya’akov meets Rachel and the Torah tells us, “VaYisa es kolo vayeivk,” Ya’akov cried (29:11). Why was he crying at this moment? Why does the Torah mention his emotional reaction to meeting Rachel? Rashi explains that Ya’akov cried because he saw prophetically that Rachel would not be buried with him.
Rav Shteinman asks: So what? Why should that have upset Ya’akov? He answers that there must be a “sibah meyuchedes” for the Avos and Imahos to be buried together (see Baba Basra 58), but he offers no further explanation of what that "sibah" might be. He also cites (but does not think it is compelling) a ShLa”H who explains that Ya’akov saw that Rachel would be buried on the road as a comfort to the Jewish people headed to exile. Ya’akov cried over the destruction of the Mikdash and that future exile.
Now, call me romantic, but I don’t see the question. Ya’akov has just met the woman whom he will marry. The Torah tells us that “Vaye’ehav Ya’akov es Rachel” – Ya’akov loved Rachel. We know that Ya’akov’s relationship with Rachel was special; she was the akeres habayis. Given all that, is it really hard to understand why Ya’akov would be upset over the fact that the woman who he loves will be buried along the road and not share a grave with him?
Rashi offers another explanation and attributes Ya'akov's crying to the fact that he has come empty handed. Here it is Sifsei Chachamim who asks: So what? Why cry over a lack of money? A tzadik places no value on material wealth. Rav Shteinman answers that Ya'akov did not cry for the loss of money so much as what money represented: the loss of opportunity to do chessed. But why not cry over that loss earlier, when it occurred? Again, the romantic answer is obvious: it's not just the loss of the opportunity for any chessed which troubled Ya'akov, but specifically the loss of ability to greet his future wife with the proper gifts that would be expected of him, the specific chessed (if you want to call it that) which must be shown to one's spouse.
Does reading Rashi with Rav Shteinman's lens in this case solve a problem that the average reader would get stuck on or create a problem that the average reader would not be troubled by? I guess the answer is "It depends" -- is the average reader a romantic or a dispassionate observer? Do we understand emotionally the grief of not being buried with one's beloved, even if it has no halachic justification? Does it sit easy with us ascribing that sense of emotional grief to Ya'akov, or at least reading Rashi as doing so?
One need not pick and choose between these approaches or the many others that are possible. Every approach unlocks questions that we otherwise might not have asked and offers answers that we otherwise might not have thought of, which is what makes learning so interesting and rewarding.
I remember once posting about the twists and turns the Parashas Derachim takes us through in exploring how the Avos kept the entire Torah, with every detail, and at the same time retained their status as bnei Noach. A ben Noach cannot keep Shabbos – what did the Avos do? How did Ya’akov marry two sisters if he kept the Torah? Some people were not even willing to entertain the question because they never got past insisting that the Avos had some general sense of commitment but not did not observe the details of every mitzvah d’oraysa and derabbanan. The torah and genius of the Parashas Derachim are a closed book if you reject the frame of reference needed to set up the question. Or to take another example, if you cannot accept using a mystical framework to read chumash, you have basically shut the door on hundreds of seforim whose insight might enrich your avodas Hashem.
I have noticed that the Ayeles haShachar of Rav Shteinman on chumash adopts the same paradigm or framework as the Meshech Chochma, the Netziv, Maharal Diskin, and especially the Brisker Rav and the Rogatchover, and others. These gedolim read every detail in chumash (and Rashi) as having halachic import or explainable on purely halachic terms (and I know that is a gross oversimplification and exaggeration, but in one sentence I can’t do better). For example, in the post I did earlier on why Ya’akov felt bad about sleeping where he did, the Brisker Rav comes up an explanation based on the halachos of morah mikdash rather than practical, moral, or theological reasons.
Every now and then I find a question where it seems that the boundaries of the paradigm create the real stumbling block rather than a path for a solution (similar to the way the Parashas Derachim's understanding of the Avos' shemiras hamitzvos creates a set of problems that he then resolves, but which might not exist if not for the framework he adopts) and I wonder if there is a deliberate attempt to find an answer that works within the thinker's framework or whether the whole thing operates on some unconscious level and once you are submerged in an approach it eclipses other solutions. You could ask this question in any number of contexts; I raise it here for no other reason than it hit me again when I saw this question of Rav Shteinman on VaYeitzei:
Ya’akov meets Rachel and the Torah tells us, “VaYisa es kolo vayeivk,” Ya’akov cried (29:11). Why was he crying at this moment? Why does the Torah mention his emotional reaction to meeting Rachel? Rashi explains that Ya’akov cried because he saw prophetically that Rachel would not be buried with him.
Rav Shteinman asks: So what? Why should that have upset Ya’akov? He answers that there must be a “sibah meyuchedes” for the Avos and Imahos to be buried together (see Baba Basra 58), but he offers no further explanation of what that "sibah" might be. He also cites (but does not think it is compelling) a ShLa”H who explains that Ya’akov saw that Rachel would be buried on the road as a comfort to the Jewish people headed to exile. Ya’akov cried over the destruction of the Mikdash and that future exile.
Now, call me romantic, but I don’t see the question. Ya’akov has just met the woman whom he will marry. The Torah tells us that “Vaye’ehav Ya’akov es Rachel” – Ya’akov loved Rachel. We know that Ya’akov’s relationship with Rachel was special; she was the akeres habayis. Given all that, is it really hard to understand why Ya’akov would be upset over the fact that the woman who he loves will be buried along the road and not share a grave with him?
Rashi offers another explanation and attributes Ya'akov's crying to the fact that he has come empty handed. Here it is Sifsei Chachamim who asks: So what? Why cry over a lack of money? A tzadik places no value on material wealth. Rav Shteinman answers that Ya'akov did not cry for the loss of money so much as what money represented: the loss of opportunity to do chessed. But why not cry over that loss earlier, when it occurred? Again, the romantic answer is obvious: it's not just the loss of the opportunity for any chessed which troubled Ya'akov, but specifically the loss of ability to greet his future wife with the proper gifts that would be expected of him, the specific chessed (if you want to call it that) which must be shown to one's spouse.
Does reading Rashi with Rav Shteinman's lens in this case solve a problem that the average reader would get stuck on or create a problem that the average reader would not be troubled by? I guess the answer is "It depends" -- is the average reader a romantic or a dispassionate observer? Do we understand emotionally the grief of not being buried with one's beloved, even if it has no halachic justification? Does it sit easy with us ascribing that sense of emotional grief to Ya'akov, or at least reading Rashi as doing so?
One need not pick and choose between these approaches or the many others that are possible. Every approach unlocks questions that we otherwise might not have asked and offers answers that we otherwise might not have thought of, which is what makes learning so interesting and rewarding.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
the donkey of Rav Pinchas ben Yair
Yesterday we compared and contrasted the donkey of R’ Pinchas ben Yair, which would not eat prohibited food, with the camels of Avraham Avinu. Today I want to directly address this strange phenomenon of a donkey which does not eat ma’achalos asuros – how does this work and what can we learn from it?
The gemara (B.M. 85) tells of a fight between R’ Chanina and R’ Chiya. R’ Chanina warned R’ Chiya that he is not one to be trifled with – “If all the Torah were forgotten, I could restore it with my pilpul.” R’ Chiya was not fazed and replied that he is not one to be trifled with either – “I would ensure that Torah is never forgotten. I would first raise flax, then use the flax to weave nets; I would use the nets to catch fish, then use the fish to attract and capture deer; I would then use the hide of the deer to write books and the flesh of the deer to feed poor orphans. I would take the books I have written and go to a town and teach five children each one of the five books of chumash and then have them teach each other, and I would teach six children each an order of Mishna and then have them review with each other, and in this way the Torah would never be forgotten from the Jewish people."
Why did Rav Chiya have to plant the flax to make the nets to catch the fish to get the deer to write the books? Why not just go buy hides or paper? The Maharasha explains that we see from this gemara the importance ofnot just doing good deeds, but ensuring that the means which are used to accomplish them are pure and proper. Who knows where the paper in the store came from or why it was produced? But if you make it yourself, you know it was made l’shem shamayim. Rav Ya’akov Moshe Lesin, the former mashgiach of YU and talmid of Slabodka, adds in his Maor sheBaTorah that this goal even warrants the sacrifice of Rav Chiya’s own learning to bring it about.
The Shomer Emunim (Derush haEmunah ch. 7) quotes from early sources that there is a concept of “koach hapoel b’nifal”. A craftsman, for example, who makes an object is not divorced from the object once it is complete – something of the craftsman’s character, effort, motivation, soul remains with the object and defines its character as well. Were I to simply quote the Shomer Emunim’s advice in the name of the Ba’al Shem Tov not to read even Torah literature unless you know that the author is an upstanding individual because the identity of the author, the poel, can corrupt the book, the nifal, even if it contains only Torah thoughts, you might dismiss it as an overzealous stringency of chassidus. But the same sentiment is echoed by R’ Lesin, who writes in the name of R’ Chaim Volozhiner that a student who uses a sefer which happens to have been published by a non-G-d fearing individual will have less success in his learning. Why did davening and learning in the days of the gemara take place in a field? The GR”A suggests it is because the presence of impure motivation in building a study hall might corrupt the learning that is done later in that building.
While this idea may have you trembling a bit, there is a positive side as well. I am sure Rav Pinchas ben Yair rode his donkey for good reasons, l’shem mitzvah. And when you use something, even a donkey, chamor=chomriyus in general, for good reasons, it becomes invested with all the love and l’shem shamayim of its owner: koach hapoel b’nifal. Such a donkey is not one that can eat ma’achalos asuros. I don't think it is by accident either that Chazal highlight the donkey's behavior specifically with respect to its not eating food which did not have terumos and ma'sros taken off. What made the food in question prohibited is the mixture of that which we can eat with that which must be given to the kohen or levi. A donkey whose master does not tolerate a mixture of motives is a donkey which will not eat a mixed up jumble of issur and heter either.
And if you need a little more of a boost, remember that Hashem is “machadesh b’tuvo” all of creation every single day. Think of the koach ha’poel all of the world is invested with – if only we pay attention and tap into it.
The madreigos the Shomer Emunim is speaking of, or R’ Chaim Volozhiner is speaking of, are far above where most of us are holding. I don’t think anyone would suggest that you start making your own paper instead of buying a notebook, but we can still glean something from these ideals in terms of our behavior. I recently heard a Rosh Yeshiva thank the accountant who watched the yeshiva’s books for making sure that although they were trying to raise money for a building, everything was done on the up-and-up. This is R’ Chaiya’s principle in action. The Rosh Yeshiva could easily divorce himself from how the bricks and mortar get there and focus on the benefit of saying a shiur to a larger audience in a more spacious environment, but whether we sense it or not, somehow that shiur would be a different shiur.
The gemara (B.M. 85) tells of a fight between R’ Chanina and R’ Chiya. R’ Chanina warned R’ Chiya that he is not one to be trifled with – “If all the Torah were forgotten, I could restore it with my pilpul.” R’ Chiya was not fazed and replied that he is not one to be trifled with either – “I would ensure that Torah is never forgotten. I would first raise flax, then use the flax to weave nets; I would use the nets to catch fish, then use the fish to attract and capture deer; I would then use the hide of the deer to write books and the flesh of the deer to feed poor orphans. I would take the books I have written and go to a town and teach five children each one of the five books of chumash and then have them teach each other, and I would teach six children each an order of Mishna and then have them review with each other, and in this way the Torah would never be forgotten from the Jewish people."
Why did Rav Chiya have to plant the flax to make the nets to catch the fish to get the deer to write the books? Why not just go buy hides or paper? The Maharasha explains that we see from this gemara the importance ofnot just doing good deeds, but ensuring that the means which are used to accomplish them are pure and proper. Who knows where the paper in the store came from or why it was produced? But if you make it yourself, you know it was made l’shem shamayim. Rav Ya’akov Moshe Lesin, the former mashgiach of YU and talmid of Slabodka, adds in his Maor sheBaTorah that this goal even warrants the sacrifice of Rav Chiya’s own learning to bring it about.
The Shomer Emunim (Derush haEmunah ch. 7) quotes from early sources that there is a concept of “koach hapoel b’nifal”. A craftsman, for example, who makes an object is not divorced from the object once it is complete – something of the craftsman’s character, effort, motivation, soul remains with the object and defines its character as well. Were I to simply quote the Shomer Emunim’s advice in the name of the Ba’al Shem Tov not to read even Torah literature unless you know that the author is an upstanding individual because the identity of the author, the poel, can corrupt the book, the nifal, even if it contains only Torah thoughts, you might dismiss it as an overzealous stringency of chassidus. But the same sentiment is echoed by R’ Lesin, who writes in the name of R’ Chaim Volozhiner that a student who uses a sefer which happens to have been published by a non-G-d fearing individual will have less success in his learning. Why did davening and learning in the days of the gemara take place in a field? The GR”A suggests it is because the presence of impure motivation in building a study hall might corrupt the learning that is done later in that building.
While this idea may have you trembling a bit, there is a positive side as well. I am sure Rav Pinchas ben Yair rode his donkey for good reasons, l’shem mitzvah. And when you use something, even a donkey, chamor=chomriyus in general, for good reasons, it becomes invested with all the love and l’shem shamayim of its owner: koach hapoel b’nifal. Such a donkey is not one that can eat ma’achalos asuros. I don't think it is by accident either that Chazal highlight the donkey's behavior specifically with respect to its not eating food which did not have terumos and ma'sros taken off. What made the food in question prohibited is the mixture of that which we can eat with that which must be given to the kohen or levi. A donkey whose master does not tolerate a mixture of motives is a donkey which will not eat a mixed up jumble of issur and heter either.
And if you need a little more of a boost, remember that Hashem is “machadesh b’tuvo” all of creation every single day. Think of the koach ha’poel all of the world is invested with – if only we pay attention and tap into it.
The madreigos the Shomer Emunim is speaking of, or R’ Chaim Volozhiner is speaking of, are far above where most of us are holding. I don’t think anyone would suggest that you start making your own paper instead of buying a notebook, but we can still glean something from these ideals in terms of our behavior. I recently heard a Rosh Yeshiva thank the accountant who watched the yeshiva’s books for making sure that although they were trying to raise money for a building, everything was done on the up-and-up. This is R’ Chaiya’s principle in action. The Rosh Yeshiva could easily divorce himself from how the bricks and mortar get there and focus on the benefit of saying a shiur to a larger audience in a more spacious environment, but whether we sense it or not, somehow that shiur would be a different shiur.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
educational ideals and aspirations
Before we can figure out how to build an education system or assess whether an educational system meets the goals and ideals we aspire to as Torah observant Jews, we must first ask ourselves what those goals and ideals are. Note the important word in that sentence: ideals. Yes, ideals do matter, even if we often fall short of them, because of the other important word in that sentence: aspire. It is the sheifa l'gadlus, the aspiration to ideals, which tells much about what a person considers serious and important and defines the direction of his life. When a kid plays baseball, he imagines himself becoming the next Derek Jeter -- he doesn't aspire to becoming the next 40 year old overweight guy in the Sunday breakfast league. When a kid starts to learn Torah, he should similarly imagine himself becoming the next Rav Soloveitchik, the next R' Ahron Kotler, and put in hours trying to make that dream come true -- not aspire to becoming a 40 year old ba'al habayis who can barely kvetch through daf yomi with the Artsroll. At some point in life a person matures and is forced to realize he is not Derek Jeter and maybe becoming a lawyer rather than count on playing shortstop for the Yankees is not a bad idea. And at some point down the road most talmidim will realize they are not R' Ahron Kotler or the Rav and they too will need to make concessions to reality as well. But those decisions can come long after elementary school, even after high school.
So what are the big dreams we should to inspire students to think about? Should we inspire them to go figure out a cure for cancer, perform some valuable social service that can help the needy, improve the world in some other way? All those are important goals, but they are secondary and far less important than the one goal for which a Jew was created.
The Rambam asks in his introduction to Peirush haMishnayos: "Why is man here; for what was he created?" The Rambam answers that mank was created for one purpose alone -- to imbue his soul with the wisdom of G-d. All other wisdom is valuable only to the extent that it enables man to draw closer to that singular goal. The Rambam continues that even if a person lived a holy life of a nazir, perfecting his nature and character, performing mitzvos, avoiding sin and temptation, he would still be imperfect so far as he did not devote himself to attaining the knowledge of G-d.
R' Chaim Volozhiner writes in his Nefesh haChaim (4:30):
"The Torah further surpasses with its illumination and holiness all mitzvos combined. That is, even if a person were to fulfill all 613 commandments with true perfection as required, meticulous in every detail, with proper pure intention, so that every limb and fiber of that person's being becomes a chariot upon which may rest the tremendous sanctity of all those mitzvos, nonetheless, there is no comparison at all between the light and holiness of mitzvos and the light and holiness of Torah which manifests itself upon a person who studies it properly. The root of holiness [of Torah] comes from a much higher source than the root of holiness and great light of even all the mitzvos combined."
This same idea is already found in a Mishna everybody knows and says every day: "...v'Talmud Torah k'neged kulam." Our primary goal in life, the goal which is more important than even other religious achievements and certainly more important than secular studies and achievements, is the study of Torah.
If our educational philosophy is to be molded by the Rambam, certainly a thinker who many champion as their guide in other areas, or R' Chaim Volozhiner, as Volozhin is the mother of all modern yeshivos, or any of the many seforim which echo these ideas, then we obviously need to aspire to become masters of Torah wisdom and knowledge. It makes no sense to aspire to and idealize the baker who provides bread for the talmid chacham, or the carpenter who builds his house, or even the doctor who heals his ills instead of idealizing and aspiring to be the talmid chacham himself!
The education that would lead to the goal of gadlus in Torah, namely intensive immersion in learning for the majority of the day every day, is certainly not for everyone. The world will have its bakers and carpenters, its investment bankers and lawyers, and we need educational institutions that will give everyone some connection to Torah and a love of learning. Just because you can't be Derek Jeter is no reason to give up baseball, and just because you are not the Rav or R' Ahron Kotler is no reason not to learn. Aderaba, within your own limits learn and support learning. But the pragmatic concession to reality does not mean we should make a philosophical concession and idealize the investment banker or scientiest as spiritually equivalent to someone tucked away in a beis medrash pouring over the words of R' Akiva Eiger and the Ketzos. We all can't be sitting over a gemara all day, but we all can admire those who do and aspire to come closer to that goal.
So what are the big dreams we should to inspire students to think about? Should we inspire them to go figure out a cure for cancer, perform some valuable social service that can help the needy, improve the world in some other way? All those are important goals, but they are secondary and far less important than the one goal for which a Jew was created.
The Rambam asks in his introduction to Peirush haMishnayos: "Why is man here; for what was he created?" The Rambam answers that mank was created for one purpose alone -- to imbue his soul with the wisdom of G-d. All other wisdom is valuable only to the extent that it enables man to draw closer to that singular goal. The Rambam continues that even if a person lived a holy life of a nazir, perfecting his nature and character, performing mitzvos, avoiding sin and temptation, he would still be imperfect so far as he did not devote himself to attaining the knowledge of G-d.
R' Chaim Volozhiner writes in his Nefesh haChaim (4:30):
"The Torah further surpasses with its illumination and holiness all mitzvos combined. That is, even if a person were to fulfill all 613 commandments with true perfection as required, meticulous in every detail, with proper pure intention, so that every limb and fiber of that person's being becomes a chariot upon which may rest the tremendous sanctity of all those mitzvos, nonetheless, there is no comparison at all between the light and holiness of mitzvos and the light and holiness of Torah which manifests itself upon a person who studies it properly. The root of holiness [of Torah] comes from a much higher source than the root of holiness and great light of even all the mitzvos combined."
This same idea is already found in a Mishna everybody knows and says every day: "...v'Talmud Torah k'neged kulam." Our primary goal in life, the goal which is more important than even other religious achievements and certainly more important than secular studies and achievements, is the study of Torah.
If our educational philosophy is to be molded by the Rambam, certainly a thinker who many champion as their guide in other areas, or R' Chaim Volozhiner, as Volozhin is the mother of all modern yeshivos, or any of the many seforim which echo these ideas, then we obviously need to aspire to become masters of Torah wisdom and knowledge. It makes no sense to aspire to and idealize the baker who provides bread for the talmid chacham, or the carpenter who builds his house, or even the doctor who heals his ills instead of idealizing and aspiring to be the talmid chacham himself!
The education that would lead to the goal of gadlus in Torah, namely intensive immersion in learning for the majority of the day every day, is certainly not for everyone. The world will have its bakers and carpenters, its investment bankers and lawyers, and we need educational institutions that will give everyone some connection to Torah and a love of learning. Just because you can't be Derek Jeter is no reason to give up baseball, and just because you are not the Rav or R' Ahron Kotler is no reason not to learn. Aderaba, within your own limits learn and support learning. But the pragmatic concession to reality does not mean we should make a philosophical concession and idealize the investment banker or scientiest as spiritually equivalent to someone tucked away in a beis medrash pouring over the words of R' Akiva Eiger and the Ketzos. We all can't be sitting over a gemara all day, but we all can admire those who do and aspire to come closer to that goal.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
engaging in secular pursuits: "yatzo v'shov" of the raven
Would you play a game of Russian roulette with a gun that has four chambers, one of which is loaded? What if we agreed that if you survive, you get a million dollars -- would you now be willing to play? 75% chance of a million bucks vs. 25% chance of certain death... I know what you're thinking: "Do I feel lucky?"
I think most people would agree that relative to the potential fatal consequences of losing, 25% is a pretty high risk to take, no matter what the potential rewards.
A local Jewish newspaper ran an editorial last week criticizing the choice many make to attend secular college. The challenges posed by the environment of a secular college, both ideological and in terms of shmiras mitzvos, present a danger for Jewish youth, especially for those who dorm. According to some studies as many as 25% of those who attend such colleges leave the fold. This week came the predictable letters to the editor in response justifying that choice. Here are some snippits with my reaction:
"I think most people, would look at a seventy-five percent retention rate and be overjoyed."
I guess some people just always see the glass as half-full, but is 1 in 4 Jews leaving the fold really something to be "overjoyed" over?
"...That is almost certainly more a product of an inferior elementary and secondary education than the result of the permissive atmosphere that sometimes prevails during college."
First of all, who cares what the cause is -- bottom line is that a 25% attrition rate is unacceptable. But let's grant the letter writer's assumption -- Dear principals of HALB, HAFTR, HANC, etc., what does a 25% attrition rate tell us about the state of modern orthodox elementary and secondary education which encourages and condones choices that lead to these abysmal statistics?
"Then there were some famous rabbis who studied before the war at the University of Berlin — Rabbi Soloveitchik, Rav Hutner and others."
And your child is the next R' Soloveitchik? And U. of Penn is just like Berlin before the war?
Does the letter writer really think R' Hutner would condone dorming at a secular college? And might it not be a good idea to first emulate the learning of R' Soloveitchik and R' Hutner and then have a debate about secular college?
"Finally, there is a growing fundamentalism and conformity in the Jewish colleges, which does not encourage intellectual growth."
Indeed, your child may go to yeshiva and be brainwashed to learn Torah, be more shomeir mitzvos, and have lots of yiras shamayim. Better to take that 25% chance of his/her becoming an apikores than chas v'shalom risk him/her becoming a chareidi.
For some people, there is no question that secular college offers an advantage that YU or Touro do not. If your heart is set on a career in engineering or science and were accepted to MIT, you would be setting yourself up for disappointment if you turn that offer down and pursue some lesser educational option alongside yeshiva. But by the same token, one is setting oneself up for religious failure if one thinks that study at secular university can be grafted onto avodas Hashem without sacrifice and challenge. Relishing the situation and portraying it as somehow superior to full immersion in a Torah environment is naive and misguided. And truth be told, it's not just the university, but the secular workplace as well which poses challenges, and it requires constant reinforcement of Torah values to emerge spiritually unscathed from the daily grind.
The Noam Elimelech uses the image of the yonah and the raven from Parshas Noach to reflect upon two different types of personalities. The yonah emerges into the world, "v'lo matzah manoach l'kaf raglah," and it finds no resting place. These are people who simply disdain all that the physical world offers and want no part of it, but that is certainly not the path for the masses.
The raven is called an "orev," a name which shares the same root as "ta'aroves," a mixture. Most of us lead a life where we try to balance a mixture of different interests and responsibilities, some secular, some religious. The raven emerges and travels "vayeitzei yatzo v'shov," darting away from the ark but then returning, constantly repeating the cycle again and again. For those who choose to engage in the secular, the key to spiritual survival is to emulate this process -- engaging in the secular world, be it for the sake of work or education, as required, but then immediatly returning to the safe haven of the ark.
I think most people would agree that relative to the potential fatal consequences of losing, 25% is a pretty high risk to take, no matter what the potential rewards.
A local Jewish newspaper ran an editorial last week criticizing the choice many make to attend secular college. The challenges posed by the environment of a secular college, both ideological and in terms of shmiras mitzvos, present a danger for Jewish youth, especially for those who dorm. According to some studies as many as 25% of those who attend such colleges leave the fold. This week came the predictable letters to the editor in response justifying that choice. Here are some snippits with my reaction:
"I think most people, would look at a seventy-five percent retention rate and be overjoyed."
I guess some people just always see the glass as half-full, but is 1 in 4 Jews leaving the fold really something to be "overjoyed" over?
"...That is almost certainly more a product of an inferior elementary and secondary education than the result of the permissive atmosphere that sometimes prevails during college."
First of all, who cares what the cause is -- bottom line is that a 25% attrition rate is unacceptable. But let's grant the letter writer's assumption -- Dear principals of HALB, HAFTR, HANC, etc., what does a 25% attrition rate tell us about the state of modern orthodox elementary and secondary education which encourages and condones choices that lead to these abysmal statistics?
"Then there were some famous rabbis who studied before the war at the University of Berlin — Rabbi Soloveitchik, Rav Hutner and others."
And your child is the next R' Soloveitchik? And U. of Penn is just like Berlin before the war?
Does the letter writer really think R' Hutner would condone dorming at a secular college? And might it not be a good idea to first emulate the learning of R' Soloveitchik and R' Hutner and then have a debate about secular college?
"Finally, there is a growing fundamentalism and conformity in the Jewish colleges, which does not encourage intellectual growth."
Indeed, your child may go to yeshiva and be brainwashed to learn Torah, be more shomeir mitzvos, and have lots of yiras shamayim. Better to take that 25% chance of his/her becoming an apikores than chas v'shalom risk him/her becoming a chareidi.
For some people, there is no question that secular college offers an advantage that YU or Touro do not. If your heart is set on a career in engineering or science and were accepted to MIT, you would be setting yourself up for disappointment if you turn that offer down and pursue some lesser educational option alongside yeshiva. But by the same token, one is setting oneself up for religious failure if one thinks that study at secular university can be grafted onto avodas Hashem without sacrifice and challenge. Relishing the situation and portraying it as somehow superior to full immersion in a Torah environment is naive and misguided. And truth be told, it's not just the university, but the secular workplace as well which poses challenges, and it requires constant reinforcement of Torah values to emerge spiritually unscathed from the daily grind.
The Noam Elimelech uses the image of the yonah and the raven from Parshas Noach to reflect upon two different types of personalities. The yonah emerges into the world, "v'lo matzah manoach l'kaf raglah," and it finds no resting place. These are people who simply disdain all that the physical world offers and want no part of it, but that is certainly not the path for the masses.
The raven is called an "orev," a name which shares the same root as "ta'aroves," a mixture. Most of us lead a life where we try to balance a mixture of different interests and responsibilities, some secular, some religious. The raven emerges and travels "vayeitzei yatzo v'shov," darting away from the ark but then returning, constantly repeating the cycle again and again. For those who choose to engage in the secular, the key to spiritual survival is to emulate this process -- engaging in the secular world, be it for the sake of work or education, as required, but then immediatly returning to the safe haven of the ark.
Monday, October 12, 2009
neshomos suited for Torah
Dashening the pasuk "Hashem m'Seir ba...." Chazal explain that Hashem went to Eisav and Yishmael and the other nations and offered them the Torah before giving it to the Jewish people. Each nation asked what was in the Torah before answering. When Eisav heard the Torah prohibits murder, they declined to accept it, as they could not imagine life without murder. After hearing the prohibitions of theft, of arayot, etc. nation after nation declined the Torah, each unable to fathom life without the particular slice of immorality that characterized their society. Only the Jewish people accepted Torah unconditionally, without even asking what it contained.
Of course G-d did not literally go nation to nation and consulting their Prime Minister or President as to whether they wanted the Torah. What the Midrash means, as the Maharal explains in Tiferes Yisrael, is that every nation of the world has ingrained in its neshoma some trait that is antithetical to a Torah lifestyle, be it murder, robbery, immorality. Only the Jewish people have the neshomos able to absorb the dvar Hashem in its totality.
Among the published correspondence (that I mentioned here) of my wife's grandfather, R' Dov Yehudah Shochet, is a tshuvah to him from R' Avraham Bloch, R"M of Telz, and his response regarding whether one may teach a Torah or Bible class to a non-Jewish audience. Chazal learn (Chagiga 13) from the pasuk, "Magid devarav l'Ya'akov..." that in addition to the prohibition of a non-Jew learning Torah there is a seperate prohibition against us teaching them Torah. R' Bloch interestingly suggests (without referencing this Maharal) that the reason behind this issur is this incompatibility between the neshoma of a non-Jew and words of Torah.
Interesting aside #1: R' Bloch proves from the fact (B.K. 92) that Avraham assumed the Plishtim were immoral because they first questioned him about his wife rather than offering food and lodging that there is a chiyuv even for non-Jews to learn those parts of Torah that teach midos and derech eretz. The kal v'chomer to what we should be learning and teaching is obvious.
Interesting aside #2: The teshuvah from R' Bloch opens with a mazal tov to RDYS on the birth of a girl (if I figured out the dates right, that newborn would be my MIL!) and a bracha l'gadla l'chupah u'lma'asim tovim. He then adds that perhaps he should use the nusach of the bracha l'gadla l'Torah l'chupah u'lama'asim tovim as in the climate of the times it is impossible to raise a bas Yisrael without giving her an appropriate Torah chinuch. The kal v'chomer to our times is obvious here as well.
Of course G-d did not literally go nation to nation and consulting their Prime Minister or President as to whether they wanted the Torah. What the Midrash means, as the Maharal explains in Tiferes Yisrael, is that every nation of the world has ingrained in its neshoma some trait that is antithetical to a Torah lifestyle, be it murder, robbery, immorality. Only the Jewish people have the neshomos able to absorb the dvar Hashem in its totality.
Among the published correspondence (that I mentioned here) of my wife's grandfather, R' Dov Yehudah Shochet, is a tshuvah to him from R' Avraham Bloch, R"M of Telz, and his response regarding whether one may teach a Torah or Bible class to a non-Jewish audience. Chazal learn (Chagiga 13) from the pasuk, "Magid devarav l'Ya'akov..." that in addition to the prohibition of a non-Jew learning Torah there is a seperate prohibition against us teaching them Torah. R' Bloch interestingly suggests (without referencing this Maharal) that the reason behind this issur is this incompatibility between the neshoma of a non-Jew and words of Torah.
Interesting aside #1: R' Bloch proves from the fact (B.K. 92) that Avraham assumed the Plishtim were immoral because they first questioned him about his wife rather than offering food and lodging that there is a chiyuv even for non-Jews to learn those parts of Torah that teach midos and derech eretz. The kal v'chomer to what we should be learning and teaching is obvious.
Interesting aside #2: The teshuvah from R' Bloch opens with a mazal tov to RDYS on the birth of a girl (if I figured out the dates right, that newborn would be my MIL!) and a bracha l'gadla l'chupah u'lma'asim tovim. He then adds that perhaps he should use the nusach of the bracha l'gadla l'Torah l'chupah u'lama'asim tovim as in the climate of the times it is impossible to raise a bas Yisrael without giving her an appropriate Torah chinuch. The kal v'chomer to our times is obvious here as well.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Elul and the midah of tzechok
The Steipler writes in the introduction to Chayei Olam that discussions about theology with those who do not share our beliefs usually fails. He illustrates this by pointing to the story of the angels who came to destroy Sdom. When the people of Sdom approached Lot's door to demand that he turn over their guests, the angels smote the population with blindness and they could no longer even find the entrance to Lot's home. Yet, shortly thereafter, when Lot tells his sons-in-law that these same angels have come to destroy the city, "veye'hi k'metzachek...", they thought Lot foolish. They did not have even a shred of doubt that Lot was wrong and misguided even though they had earlier witnessed these same angels exerting supernatural power. If they ignored the evidence of their own eyes, what could he possibly have said to convince them?
The Steipler does not stress this point, but it seems that the reason why Lot's sons-in-law went astray was the midah of "tzechok" - frivolity, lightheartedness, taking everything as a joke. It's not that they were philosophically disenchanted with Lot's religious beliefs (whatever they were), but rather they simply did not take things seriously enough to give religion and philosophy much thought. Had Lot spent more time trying to convince them of the seriousness of what was at stake it would have probably just given them more to mock at. The Mesilas Yesharim writes (ch 5.) that leitzanus is like a shield greased with oil that causes the arrows of hisorerus to simply fall away (see also Sichos Mussar of R' Chaim Shmuelivitz, 5731 #21).
Contrast the reaction of Lot's sons-in-law with a different tzechok later in Braishis: when Sarah finally gives birth to Yitzchak she declares, "tzechok asah li Elokim, kol ha'shomea yitzachak li." Lot's sons-in-law turned G-d's word into something to be mocked; G-d mocks the naysayers and doubters who said Sarah could not have children.
Elul is the antithesis of tzechok. The ba'alei mussar would examine every detail of life with seriousness and great introspection as the days of Rosh haShana approached. Having not had the privilege of learning in a yeshiva with an intensive mussar program, I find this a hard mindset to absorb or imagine; I cannot imagine the thoughts of a R' Yisrael Salanter or a R' Simcha Zissel as they prepared for the Yamim Noraim.
The Steipler does not stress this point, but it seems that the reason why Lot's sons-in-law went astray was the midah of "tzechok" - frivolity, lightheartedness, taking everything as a joke. It's not that they were philosophically disenchanted with Lot's religious beliefs (whatever they were), but rather they simply did not take things seriously enough to give religion and philosophy much thought. Had Lot spent more time trying to convince them of the seriousness of what was at stake it would have probably just given them more to mock at. The Mesilas Yesharim writes (ch 5.) that leitzanus is like a shield greased with oil that causes the arrows of hisorerus to simply fall away (see also Sichos Mussar of R' Chaim Shmuelivitz, 5731 #21).
Contrast the reaction of Lot's sons-in-law with a different tzechok later in Braishis: when Sarah finally gives birth to Yitzchak she declares, "tzechok asah li Elokim, kol ha'shomea yitzachak li." Lot's sons-in-law turned G-d's word into something to be mocked; G-d mocks the naysayers and doubters who said Sarah could not have children.
Elul is the antithesis of tzechok. The ba'alei mussar would examine every detail of life with seriousness and great introspection as the days of Rosh haShana approached. Having not had the privilege of learning in a yeshiva with an intensive mussar program, I find this a hard mindset to absorb or imagine; I cannot imagine the thoughts of a R' Yisrael Salanter or a R' Simcha Zissel as they prepared for the Yamim Noraim.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
seeing the whole forest
The Rambam (Sanhedrin 4:8) writes that smicha can be given to a judge for a specific purpose, e.g. a judge may be given smicha to decide torts, but not for capital punishment. However, for a judge to receive any form of smicha he must be proficient in every area of halacha. In other words, even if that judge were receiving a smicha "license" only to decide torts, he must be an expert in capital cases and capable of deciding them.
The Minchas Chinuch notes that among the distinctions listed by the Mishna (Sanhedrin 32) between the requirements for courts judging torts vs. the requirements for courts judging capital cases is that a mamzer or ba'al mum may judge a tort case but not a capital punishment case. How does this make sense according to the Rambam? In order to receive smicha to judge even torts, a judge must be capable of receiving smicha and judging every type of case, even capital punishment cases. If a mamzer cannot judge capital punishment cases, he should be incapable of receiving smicha even to judge torts. The M.C. does not resolve this issue.
Why would a judge need to know everything if he is only pakening in one limited area?
The gemara (Kiddush 10b) records the challenge made to one of the Tanaim: "Baki atah b'kol chadrei Torah v'lidrsoh b'kal v'chomer ei atah yodeia?!" - "You are an expert in all areas of Torah and do not know how to darshen a kal v'chomer?!" At first glance this is a hard point to understand -- what does being a baki in shas have to do with drawing a logical inference? R' Elchanan (Koveitz Shiurim, see post here) quotes that R' Chaim Brisker explained that while an inference may be logically compelling when seen in the narrow context of one sugya, it may prove totally erroneous when measured against the larger background of kol haTorah kulah. There is no such thing as being an expert in dinei mamonos to the exclusion of all else, or paskening issur v'heter without knowing even kodshim sugyos. Truth in Torah can be arrived at only if one has a grasp on the breadth of Torah as a whole.
Mashal l'mah hadavar domeh: A person can zoom in with google maps and look at one isolated few blocks and figure out within those few blocks the correct set of turns to take to get somewhere. This person will be 100% convinced that their "derech" is the correct one. However, someone else who sees the map as a whole may disagree. Looking at those isolated few blocks does not take into account the construction that lies further down the road, the detour that will be required later, the shortcut that comes up later on it you take the other fork in the road.
The reason a person should consult gedolei yisrael on questions of halacha and emunos v'deyos is because even if a person feels that he/she is an expert in a particular little 4 amos of the world of halacha, he/she is looking at no more than a single road on a much larger map. Even to decide between competing opinions and views in a limited area requires knowledge of what Torah as an organic whole means.
The Minchas Chinuch notes that among the distinctions listed by the Mishna (Sanhedrin 32) between the requirements for courts judging torts vs. the requirements for courts judging capital cases is that a mamzer or ba'al mum may judge a tort case but not a capital punishment case. How does this make sense according to the Rambam? In order to receive smicha to judge even torts, a judge must be capable of receiving smicha and judging every type of case, even capital punishment cases. If a mamzer cannot judge capital punishment cases, he should be incapable of receiving smicha even to judge torts. The M.C. does not resolve this issue.
Why would a judge need to know everything if he is only pakening in one limited area?
The gemara (Kiddush 10b) records the challenge made to one of the Tanaim: "Baki atah b'kol chadrei Torah v'lidrsoh b'kal v'chomer ei atah yodeia?!" - "You are an expert in all areas of Torah and do not know how to darshen a kal v'chomer?!" At first glance this is a hard point to understand -- what does being a baki in shas have to do with drawing a logical inference? R' Elchanan (Koveitz Shiurim, see post here) quotes that R' Chaim Brisker explained that while an inference may be logically compelling when seen in the narrow context of one sugya, it may prove totally erroneous when measured against the larger background of kol haTorah kulah. There is no such thing as being an expert in dinei mamonos to the exclusion of all else, or paskening issur v'heter without knowing even kodshim sugyos. Truth in Torah can be arrived at only if one has a grasp on the breadth of Torah as a whole.
Mashal l'mah hadavar domeh: A person can zoom in with google maps and look at one isolated few blocks and figure out within those few blocks the correct set of turns to take to get somewhere. This person will be 100% convinced that their "derech" is the correct one. However, someone else who sees the map as a whole may disagree. Looking at those isolated few blocks does not take into account the construction that lies further down the road, the detour that will be required later, the shortcut that comes up later on it you take the other fork in the road.
The reason a person should consult gedolei yisrael on questions of halacha and emunos v'deyos is because even if a person feels that he/she is an expert in a particular little 4 amos of the world of halacha, he/she is looking at no more than a single road on a much larger map. Even to decide between competing opinions and views in a limited area requires knowledge of what Torah as an organic whole means.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
the danger of ta'aroves
I don't know why, but I just have not felt in the mood to write lately. Sometimes it seems that sharing divrei Torah on a forum such as a blog is a bracha l'vatala. The anti-torah material on the internet so greatly outnumbers the torah sites that rather than encourage people to read divrei torah on the 'net it is probably better to encourage people to just stop reading any jewish sites to avoid the pitfalls. I remember someone once telling me that his mashgiach told him that if he goes to college, he should go to someplace like Notre Dame. Can you imagine walking around on a campus filled with crosses? Why would a Jew put himself in such an environment? The answer is that the odds of a ben yeshiva falling prey to what he recognizes as treif are slim (which is not to say there is no danger at all!) But when you walk around on a campus filled with yalmukas, where there may even be a beis medrash, and amidst all that there is a "Tanach" lecture by someone who happens to deny the concept of Torah min hashamayim as most of klal yisrael understands it, then the danger is far greater. The ta'aroves of tov v'ra is a much harder challenge to respond to than the challenge of ra in its pure form. "Tocho achal v'klipaso zarak" demands both the knowledge to discriminate between the two and vigilance to engage in a constant war of being boreir.
The Tiferes Shlomo gives a mashal to a king who is locked away in a dungeon somewhere, his palace taken over by despots, his throne in danger of being lost. The king's son manages to sneak into the dungeon to meet his father. So what does the son talk about -- does he have a plan to escape, does he share his father's sorrow and worry, does he offer hope and pledge to get his father out? No, he starts telling over to his father a teirutz to a difficult Rambam!
The Tiferes Shlomo was not talking about the internet, but I'll steal his mashal anyway. You have hundreds of "jewish" sites written by even "orthodox" (or maybe "orthoprax") people which create a ta'aroves and destroy the palace of the king. While the king sits languishing in prison we should sit here writing up answers to difficult Rambams?!
My wife pointed out to me that a real Litvak would not be swayed by this Tiferes Shlomo. Yes, we should davka be saying over difficult Rambams, because that gufa is what strengthens the king and will lead to his release. Point granted with respect to the king, but what of the citizens of the empire who are swayed by the leaders of the coup and lost to their false propaganda?
Some will argue that we should seize the opportunity to engage in debate and prove the truth of our perspective. The Alter of Navardohk has a brilliant insight that shows why such an approach is doomed to failure. Hashem appeared to Avimelech and told him that he will die for taking Sarah; he must return her to Avraham. Hashem was not condemning Avimelech yet -- he was threatening punishment, but Avimelech had a way out by complying with Hashem's request. So how does Avimelech's answer make any sense -- "Hagoy gam tzadik ta'harog", Hashem, will you also punish the innocent? M'mah nafshach -- if Avimelech complies, then G-d will not punish him; if he does not comply, then he is not innocent, is he? The Alter explains in Madreigas ha'Adam that Avimelech was not arguing with the terms of the threat, but he was arguing with Hashem making such a threat in the first place -- since Avraham said Sarah was his sister, she was fair game! In other words, even though G-d himself came and told Avimelech that Sarah was offlimits, Avimelech defended his position based on his own corrupt reasoning and labeled G-d as the unjust one.
What proof are you going to offer to those who have their own agenda? What R' Chaim or R' Akiva Eiger held? But a person can just say that good for them, but I hold differently and I think I am right. What the Rambam said (and we all know that the Rambam is kodesh kodashim of Rishonim)? But who says the Rambam is right and not me? What R' Akiva held, what Moshe Rabeinu held, what Hashem himself holds? But you see, when you are arguing with an Avimelech, even G-d's word itself is not proof enough.
So much for this rant. Maybe a difficult Rashba later this week if I recover the urge to write.
The Tiferes Shlomo gives a mashal to a king who is locked away in a dungeon somewhere, his palace taken over by despots, his throne in danger of being lost. The king's son manages to sneak into the dungeon to meet his father. So what does the son talk about -- does he have a plan to escape, does he share his father's sorrow and worry, does he offer hope and pledge to get his father out? No, he starts telling over to his father a teirutz to a difficult Rambam!
The Tiferes Shlomo was not talking about the internet, but I'll steal his mashal anyway. You have hundreds of "jewish" sites written by even "orthodox" (or maybe "orthoprax") people which create a ta'aroves and destroy the palace of the king. While the king sits languishing in prison we should sit here writing up answers to difficult Rambams?!
My wife pointed out to me that a real Litvak would not be swayed by this Tiferes Shlomo. Yes, we should davka be saying over difficult Rambams, because that gufa is what strengthens the king and will lead to his release. Point granted with respect to the king, but what of the citizens of the empire who are swayed by the leaders of the coup and lost to their false propaganda?
Some will argue that we should seize the opportunity to engage in debate and prove the truth of our perspective. The Alter of Navardohk has a brilliant insight that shows why such an approach is doomed to failure. Hashem appeared to Avimelech and told him that he will die for taking Sarah; he must return her to Avraham. Hashem was not condemning Avimelech yet -- he was threatening punishment, but Avimelech had a way out by complying with Hashem's request. So how does Avimelech's answer make any sense -- "Hagoy gam tzadik ta'harog", Hashem, will you also punish the innocent? M'mah nafshach -- if Avimelech complies, then G-d will not punish him; if he does not comply, then he is not innocent, is he? The Alter explains in Madreigas ha'Adam that Avimelech was not arguing with the terms of the threat, but he was arguing with Hashem making such a threat in the first place -- since Avraham said Sarah was his sister, she was fair game! In other words, even though G-d himself came and told Avimelech that Sarah was offlimits, Avimelech defended his position based on his own corrupt reasoning and labeled G-d as the unjust one.
What proof are you going to offer to those who have their own agenda? What R' Chaim or R' Akiva Eiger held? But a person can just say that good for them, but I hold differently and I think I am right. What the Rambam said (and we all know that the Rambam is kodesh kodashim of Rishonim)? But who says the Rambam is right and not me? What R' Akiva held, what Moshe Rabeinu held, what Hashem himself holds? But you see, when you are arguing with an Avimelech, even G-d's word itself is not proof enough.
So much for this rant. Maybe a difficult Rashba later this week if I recover the urge to write.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
v'halachta b'derachav -- why only through gemilus chassadim?
Why is it that v'halachta b'derachav, imitating G-d, applies only to his acts of mercy? We are told (Sota 14) that G-d visits the sick, buries the dead, acts charitably, and we are expected to do the same. But no source suggests that just as G-d smites the wicked we should do the same -- a thought that undoubtedly occurred to many who were listening to the Madoff sentencing yesterday. Why not?
The Maharal (Nesiv Gemilus Chassadim) explains that when a person faces a situation that cries out for justice, s/he is forced by circumstance to respond. The same may be said for many types of charity. Giving a quarter to the homeless guy begging for change just to get him to stop annoying you or putting a coin in a pushka to avoid feeling guilty is also just a response to a situation, an means to avoid a negative feeling rather than a desire for constructive good. Situation and circumstance, not a person's inner character, is what motivates these behaviors.
G-d "has" everything; he does not suffer needs and is not compelled by circumstance -- and still he gives. We too can only claim to imitate G-d when we act not because of personal needs or circumstance, but simply because it is the right thing to do. In a word, imitating G-d demands altruism -- a selflessness that motivates one to do good for its own sake alone.
The Maharal (Nesiv Gemilus Chassadim) explains that when a person faces a situation that cries out for justice, s/he is forced by circumstance to respond. The same may be said for many types of charity. Giving a quarter to the homeless guy begging for change just to get him to stop annoying you or putting a coin in a pushka to avoid feeling guilty is also just a response to a situation, an means to avoid a negative feeling rather than a desire for constructive good. Situation and circumstance, not a person's inner character, is what motivates these behaviors.
G-d "has" everything; he does not suffer needs and is not compelled by circumstance -- and still he gives. We too can only claim to imitate G-d when we act not because of personal needs or circumstance, but simply because it is the right thing to do. In a word, imitating G-d demands altruism -- a selflessness that motivates one to do good for its own sake alone.
Monday, June 22, 2009
difficulties and doubts
R. Johanan was sitting and teaching: The Holy One, blessed be He, will bring jewels and precious stones, each thirty cubits long, and thirty cubits high, and make an engraving in them, ten by twenty cubits, and set them up as the gates of Jerusalem, for it is written, And I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles. A certain disciple derided him saying, 'We do not find a jewel even as large as a dove's egg, yet such huge ones are to exist!' Some time later he took a sea journey and saw the ministering angels cutting precious stones and pearls. He said unto them: 'For what are these?' They replied: 'The Holy One, blessed be He, will set them up as the gates of Jerusalem.' On his return, he found R. Johanan sitting and teaching. He said to him: 'Expound, O Master, and it is indeed fitting for you to expound, for even as you did say, so did I myself see.' 'Wretch!' he exclaimed, 'had you not seen, you would not have believed! You deride the words of the Sages!' He set his eyes upon him, and he turned in to a heap of bones.
Sanhedrin 100a, Soncino translation
Many persons are very sensitive of the difficulties of religion; I am as sensitive as any one; but I have never been able to see a connection between apprehending those difficulties, however keenly, and multiplying them to any extent, and doubting the doctrines to which they are attached. Ten thousand difficulties do not make one doubt, as I understand the subject; difficulty and doubt are incommensurate. There of course may be difficulties in the evidence; but I am speaking of difficulties intrinsic to the doctrines, or to their compatibility with each other. A man may be annoyed that he cannot work out a mathematical problem, of which the answer is or is not given to him, without doubting that it admits of an answer, or that a particular answer is the true one.
John Henry Newman, Apologia Pro Vita Sua, Part VII
Sanhedrin 100a, Soncino translation
Many persons are very sensitive of the difficulties of religion; I am as sensitive as any one; but I have never been able to see a connection between apprehending those difficulties, however keenly, and multiplying them to any extent, and doubting the doctrines to which they are attached. Ten thousand difficulties do not make one doubt, as I understand the subject; difficulty and doubt are incommensurate. There of course may be difficulties in the evidence; but I am speaking of difficulties intrinsic to the doctrines, or to their compatibility with each other. A man may be annoyed that he cannot work out a mathematical problem, of which the answer is or is not given to him, without doubting that it admits of an answer, or that a particular answer is the true one.
John Henry Newman, Apologia Pro Vita Sua, Part VII
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