Yom ha'Kippurim 5775: What is Kaparah?

Originally posted in March of 2012. Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Yom ha'Kippurim 5775: What is Kaparah?

Introduction

Every year - usually around Rosh ha'Shanah and Yom ha'Kippurim - I find myself bothered by the question: "What is kaparah?" According to the Radak, the word "kaparah" in this context refers to the removal of sin (see the Sefer ha'Shorashim, כ.פ.ר.). But what, exactly, does this mean? Does it refer to some mystical notion of "erasing our sins" from Hashem's "record"? Does kaparah pertain to the state of our souls in Olam ha'Ba? Is kaparah a type of hashgachah that somehow aids us in Olam ha'Zeh? We have an obligation and responsibility to engage in certain actions which are said to effectuate kaparah, and yet, we often speak of kaparah as though it must be "granted" to us - as though our role in obtaining kaparah is passive. How does that work? And what is the relationship between kaparah and teshuvah? If a person does complete teshuvah, why does he still require kaparah? What more is there left for him to do?

Needless to say, this is a massive topic, and it would be unrealistic to expect any theory to answer all questions and to remove all doubts. That being said, our objective in this post will be to propose one theory of kaparah based on several sources in the Ralbag and the Rambam. If this theory makes sense here then perhaps we will be able to apply it to other instances of the term kaparah throughout the Torah system.

Semichah al ha'Korban

Our journey begins with the first instance of the term kaparah in Sefer Vayikra, which occurs within the first several pesukim:

He called to Moshe, and Hashem spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting, saying: Speak to the Children of Israel and say to them: When a man among you brings a sacrifice to Hashem: from animals - from the cattle or from the flock shall you bring your sacrifice. If one's offering is a burnt-sacrifice from the cattle, he shall sacrifice an unblemished male; he shall bring it to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, voluntarily, before Hashem. He shall lean his hands upon the head of the burnt-sacrifice; and he shall attain favor through it, to provide kaparah (atonement) for him. He shall slaughter the bull before Hashem; the sons of Aharon, the Kohanim, shall bring the blood and throw the blood on the Altar, all around - which is at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting (Vayikra 1:1-5).

The pesukim imply that the act of semichah is a component of the kaparah that is attained through the korban. This implication is confirmed by Torah she'baal Peh. The Rambam writes in Hilchos Maaseh ha'Korbanos 3:12 (based on a Gemara in Yoma 5a):

We slaughter the animal in the same location as the semichah, and the shechitah (slaughtering) takes place immediately after the semichah. If one did semichah in another location or delayed [between the semichah and the shechitah], his shechitah is still valid. Semichah is an incremental aspect of the mitzvah. Therefore, if one did not do semichah, his korban still effectuates kaparah, and does not jeopardize his fulfillment of the mitzvah. Nevertheless, it is considered as if his korban did not effectuate kaparah.

This is a strange halacha. Apparently, if a person does not do semichah, his korban still fulfills the halachic requirements of kaparah - and yet, his kaparah is considered to be lacking in another sense (see Ritva on Yoma 5a). In what sense is it considered as if he did not achieve kaparah? And why not? What makes semichah such an integral part of the kaparah process?

Ralbag's Explanation

The Ralbag answers this question. In doing so, he provides a fundamental insight into the purpose of korbanos and lays the groundwork for a theory of kaparah. In his commentary on the parashah the Ralbag writes:

"He shall lean his hands upon the head of the burnt-sacrifice" (1:4) Since this semichah is a sort of kaparah-device in the same manner as the burnt-sacrifice itself provides kaparah, the sinner therefore confesses his avonos (iniquities) at the time of semichah. We learn this from what was said in Parshas Acharei Mos: “Aharon shall lean his two hands upon the head of the living he-goat and confess upon it all the avonos of the Children of Israel, [and all their rebellious sins among all their sins, and place them upon the head of the he-goat, and send it with a designated man to the desert]” (Vayikra 16:21). The semichah was for this very reason: to demonstrate [that it is] as if he removed those avonos from himself and transferred them to the head of that animal, in order to reassure him in his heart that his avonos have already been removed. This provides a tremendous benefit, for if a person does not think that his sins are removed when he does teshuvah to Hashem (exalted is He), then a person who committed terrible sins will think that he is utterly doomed, and he will continue to sin even more, for he thinks that there is no benefit in doing teshuvah to Hashem, since he is already doomed by his sins [in his own mind]. This is the general benefit in all of the korbanos which are brought for sins; they will not bring kaparah without teshuvah.

Ralbag elaborates on this in the toeles section of his commentary:

[This parashah] guides men towards perfection by teaching that when they sin, they should return in teshuvah to Hashem (exalted is He) and He will provide kaparah of their avonos for them. The reason for this is that “there is no righteous person on earth who does only good and does not sin” (Koheles 7:20). If those who committed certain sins believed that their avon would be a permanent stain before Hashem (exalted is He), they would continue to sin, since they would believe that they are already doomed on account of their sin, and they would miss out on the benefits of guarding against sinning in the future. If, however, they know that by doing teshuvah from their evil path and returning to the paths of Hashem (exalted is He) that He will remove their avonos for them, then they will be careful not to sin in the future, and they will do teshuvah to Hashem so that He will have mercy on them and provide kaparah for their sin. Hashem wanted teshuvah to be accompanied by the bringing of a korban in order to reassure the sinner that his sin has already received kaparah. The reason for this is that to the masses it is inconceivable that a man can be wicked and subsequently be cleansed of his wickedness through doing teshuvah in his heart, without any action whatsoever. It is for this reason that Hashem (exalted is He) commanded us to do these korbanos in the revered sanctuary, which houses His shechinah, through the kohen who is set aside for avodas Hashem – in order to complete the kaparah for the sinner along with teshuvah. For this reason there is a mitzvah [for the sinner] to lean with his two hands on the head of his korban and to confess all of his iniquities upon it, in order that his heart may be reassured that it is as if those sins have been removed from him and placed onto the head of that animal. By doing the korbanos in this manner in the order specified in the Torah, man is guided along the path of perfection to avodas Hashem and is distanced from following his yetzer ha’ra (bad inclination).

Ralbag's explanation can be summarized as follows. Kaparah cannot occur without teshuvah. However, even teshuvah is insufficient, for the sinner will still feel that his avon is "a permanent stain before God," and that he is forever tainted by his avonos. This line of thinking is dangerous, for unless a person believes that teshuvah can completely eradicate his avonos, he is prone to give up on teshuvah altogether and to persist in, or increase, his avonos. 

To overcome this psychological roadblock, Hashem commands the sinner to complete his teshuvah process by engaging in symbolic actions - actions which appeal to the imagination and speak to the psyche in its own terms - in order to "reassure his heart" that his avonos have been completely removed, and that no trace of them remains. These symbolic actions include the bringing of a korban in the Beis ha'Mikdash, performing semichah on that korban, and verbalizing a vidui (confession) on that korban - as if one is transferring one's avonos to the head of the animal - whereupon the animal will immediately undergo shechitah (slaughtering) and hakravah (being offered) on the mizbach kaparah (altar of atonement).

This is the manner in which teshuvah, combined with the bringing of a korban - complete with semichah, vidui, and shechitah - effectuates full kaparah (i.e. complete removal of the avon). Full kaparah cannot occur until one has completely abandoned the avon, not only in one's actions, but even from one's psyche. This psychological dimension of the kaparah is difficult to achieve through teshuvah alone. Man requires an symbolic action to impress upon his psyche that his slate is clean and his sin has been erased.

I believe that this is meaning of the halacha that if one fails to do semichah, his korban still effectuates halachic kaparah, but "it is considered as if his korban did not effectuate kaparah." In other words, the korban itself received the requisite "processing" in Mikdash to satisfy the requirements for kaparah, but the gavra - the individual who sinned - will not receive full kaparah since his psyche did not undergo the catharsis which the semichah was designed to facilitate.

Rambam's Explanation

The Rambam seems to agree with this idea as well. In the taamei ha'mitzvos section of the Moreh ha'Nevuchim, the Rambam divides all 613 mitzvos into fourteen categories and attempts to identify the reasons and/or benefits for each and every mitzvah. The first category is that of yesodei ha'Torah: mitzvos which are designed to teach and strengthen our conviction in the foundational principles of Torah. The Rambam (3:36) concludes his exposition on this category by discussing the mitzvah of teshuvah:

It is obvious that teshuvah is likewise included in this category; that is to say, it is one of the doctrines which are indispensable in maintaining the existence of Torah adherents, for it is impossible for any man not to err and sin – either because he mistakenly adopts a wrongful doctrine or character trait, or else he is overcome by desire or anger – and if man were convinced that he could never make his crooked ways straight, he would forever continue in his errors, and maybe even increase his disobedience if he believed there was no alternative. But with the belief in teshuvah, he will come back to the good and will return to an even more perfected state – even more perfected than he was before he sinned. For this reason, [the Torah commands us] in many actions which strengthen our belief in this very beneficial principle [of teshuvah]: for example, the confessions, and the korbanos for sins committed unknowingly – and in some cases even for sins committed intentionally – and the fasts. The general principle behind teshuvah from any sin is the complete removal of sin, and this is the purpose of this doctrine. 

The Rambam is clearly talking about the same phenomenon as the Ralbag, namely, the sinner's feeling that he is "doomed by his sins." Like the Ralbag, the Rambam maintains that the institutions of vidui and the korbanos are designed to strengthen one's conviction in the efficacy of teshuvah. Moreover, the Rambam implies that the sinner is prone to fall into this type of despair both before and after he engages in teshuvah. We see this from the fact that taaniyos (fast days) and chatzotzros (the sounding of the trumpets, which accompany every taanis) are designed to stimulate and initiate teshuvah whereas vidui and korban occur at the very end of the teshuvah process - and yet, the Rambam states that the purpose of all of these mitzvos is "to strengthen our belief" in the efficacy of teshuvah.

Does the Rambam agree with the Ralbag's idea that the Torah commands us in symbolic actions which are designed to speak to the psyche in its own language? It seems so. In his explanation of the reasons behind the korbanos, the Rambam (3:46) writes:

But the intent behind the burning of these chataos (sin-offerings) is that the memory of the sin [for which the offering is brought] has already been erased and no longer exists, just as the body that is being burnt no longer exists, and no trace will be left of that [sinful] action, just as no trace is left of this chatas, which is utterly destroyed by fire ... And since the seir ha’mishtaleach (the goat that is "cast off" of the Azazel cliff on Yom ha’Kippurim) served as the ultimate kaparah for all major transgressions, more than any other communal-chatas, therefore we do not slaughter it or burn it or bringing it to the altar at all; rather, we remove it as far as possible and cast it off to a desolate, uninhabited land. There is no man who will doubt the fact that sins are not actually an entity that can be transferred from the back of one being onto another. Rather, these are all symbolic actions which impart an impression to the soul in order to arouse it to teshuvah – as if to say, “We have cleansed ourselves from all of our previous deeds, and we have cast them behind our backs and rejected them with the utmost degree of rejection.”

Here the Rambam explicitly acknowledges the symbolic character of these korbanos which are intended to produce a psychological affect (התפעלות - in both the Qafih and Ibn Tibbon translations) on the sinner to spur him to do teshuvah and to strengthen his belief in its efficacy. Although the Rambam does not discuss the specific reason for semichah on korbanos, it is reasonable to interpret it in the same vein as the other aspects of the korban-chatas which he spelled out in the excerpts cited here.

Conclusion

As we stated at the outset, there still remain numerous questions that have yet to be answered. For instance, the Rambam devotes the bulk of Hilchos Teshuvah, Perek 1 to explaining how and when kaparah is attained for various types of transgressions. This hierarchy begs for an explanation. Likewise, our tefilos are filled with requests for Hashem to grant us kaparah. What do all of these requests mean? And what does it mean to ask Hashem for kaparah anyway?

With Hashem's help, we will take up these questions in the future. In the meantime, I hope this explanation provides a true and beneficial insight into the phenomenon of kaparah.

Rambam's Three Groups

Originally Posted in August, 2008

I've been meaning to post the Rambam's discussion of the "three groups" (from his introduction to Chelek) for quite some time. I guess I've refrained, because I didn't want to post the text without offering some insight into it. I recently realized, however, that this is irrational, and that I should definitely post the text even if I have nothing to say about it at the moment.

Rambam: Introduction to Perek Chelek

People can be divided into three groups, based on the way they relate to the words of Chazal (i.e. the Wise Men of the Talmud).

The First Group

The first group includes the majority of people I have met and whose books I have seen and about whom I have heard. These people understand the words of Chazal according to their literal meanings without explaining them at all. To them, all impossible things are believed to be necessary. This is due to their stupidity in matters of science and their inexperience with other branches of knowledge. They lack sufficient perfection to be awakened to such wisdom on their own and they have found no one to awaken them. Consequently, they think that the only meaning in the wise words of Chazal is what they, themselves, understand – namely, the literal meaning. They think this, even though the literal meanings contain statements so bizarre that if you were to tell them to an average person, and certainly to an intelligent individual, he would be astounded and exclaim, “How is it possible that there should be anyone in the world who would imagine such things and think that they are true, much less find value in them?”

The unfortunate people in this group (may God have mercy on their stupidity) exalt Chazal in their own minds, but in reality, they degrade them to the utmost extent without realizing it. As God Lives, this group destroys the beauty of Torah and darkens its brilliance. These people render the Torah of Hashem the opposite of its intended purpose, for Hashem said about the wisdom of His Torah, “[for it is your wisdom and discernment in the eyes of the nations, who shall hear all these decrees and who shall say,] ‘Surely a wise and discerning people is this great nation!’” (Devarim 4:6). But this group expound from the literal meanings of the words of Chazal notions which, if heard by the gentiles, would cause them to say, “Surely a stupid and disgraceful people is this pathetic nation!”

Many of the men who do this are public speakers who attempt to convey ideas to the people which they, themselves, do not understand. If only they would shut up, since they do not understand – “If only you would be utterly silent, that would be your wisdom” (Iyov 13:5). Or if only they had it in them to say, “We do not know what Chazal intended with these words, nor do we know how to interpret them.” Instead, they think they understand, and they set themselves up as authorities to convey to the people their own understanding - not what Chazal actually said; and they expound to the masses the midrashim in Berachos and Perek Chelek and the like, word for word according to their literal meanings.

The Second Group

The second group is also numerous. It consists of individuals who, having read or heard the words of Chazal, understand them according to their simple literal sense and believe that Chazal intended nothing more than what may be learned from their literal interpretation. Consequently, they will degrade them, disparage them, and consider things to be ridiculous which are not actually ridiculous, and they will inevitably mock the words of Chazal. They imagine that their own intelligence is of a higher order than that of Chazal, and that Chazal were simpletons who suffered from inferior intelligence were incapable of attaining genuine wisdom. Most of those who have stumbled into this error are involved with medicine or astrology. They regard themselves as cultivated men, scientists, critics, and philosophers. They are more foolish than the first group and more naïve.

This is an accursed group which attempts to tarnish men of established greatness whose wisdom has been demonstrated to those who are competent in wisdom. If these fools had worked at wisdom hard enough to know how to write accurately about theology and similar subjects both for the masses and for the educated, and if they understood the practical aspects of philosophy, then they would be in a position to understand whether the Sages were in fact wise or not, and the real meaning of their teachings would be clear to them.

The Third Group

There is a third group. Its members are so few in number that it is hardly appropriate to call them a group, except in the sense in which one speaks of the Sun as a group, of which it is the only member. This group consists of men to whom the greatness of Chazal is clear. They recognize the superiority of Chazal's intelligence from their words, which point to exceedingly profound truths. Even though this third group is few and scattered, their books teach the perfection which was achieved by their authors and the high level of truth which they had attained. The members of this group understand that Chazal clearly knew impossibility of that which is impossible and the necessity of that which is necessarily true. They know that Chazal did not speak nonsense, and it is clear to them that the words of Chazal contain both a surface-meaning and a hidden meaning. Thus, whenever Chazal spoke of things that seem impossible, they were employing the style of riddle and parable which is the method of truly great thinkers. For example, the greatest of our wise men (Solomon) began his book by saying: “To understand an analogy and a metaphor, the words of the wise and their riddles” (Mishlei 1:6).

All students of rhetoric know the real purpose of a riddle is its hidden meaning and not its surface-meaning, as in: “Let me now put forth a riddle to you” (Shoftim 14:12). Since the words of the Sages all deal with metaphysical matters which are the ultimate objective, they must be expressed in riddles and analogies. How can we complain if they formulate their wisdom in analogies and employ such figures of speech as used by the masses, especially when we note that the wisest of all men did precisely that, under the guidance of the Prophetic Spirit? I am referring to Solomon in Proverbs, the Song of Songs, and parts of Ecclesiastes.

It is often difficult for us to interpret words and to educe their true meaning from the form in which they are contained so that their real inner meaning conforms to reason and is in line with truth. This is the case even with the Holy Scriptures. Chazal, themselves, interpreted Scriptural passages in such a way as to educe their inner meaning from literal sense, correctly considering these passages to be figures of speech, just as we do. Examples are their explanations of the following passages: “he smote the two alter-hearths of Moab; he went down also and slew a lion in the midst of a pit” (Shmuel II 23:20); “Oh, that one would give me water to drink of the well of Bethlehem” (ibid. 23:15). The entire narrative of which these passages are a part was interpreted metaphorically. Similarly, the whole Book of Job was considered by many of Chazal to be properly understood only in metaphorical terms. The dead bones of Ezekiel (Chapter 37) were also considered by one of the rabbis to make sense only in metaphoric terms. Similar treatment was given to other passages of this sort.

Advice to the Reader

Now if you, reader, belong to either of the first two groups, pay no attention to my words nor to anything else in this section. You will not like it. On the contrary, it will irritate you, and you will hate it. How could a person who is accustomed to eating large amounts of harmful food find simple food in small quantities appealing, even though the latter is good for him? On the contrary, he will actually find them irritating, and he will hate them. Do you not recall the reaction of the people who were accustomed to eating onions garlic, fish, and the like? They said: “Now our soul is dried away; there is nothing at all; we have naught save this manna to look to” (Bamidbar 11:6).

But if you belong to the third group, when you encounter a statement of Chazal which seems to conflict with reason, you will pause, consider it, and realize that this utterance must be a riddle or a parable. You will sleep on it, trying anxiously to grasp its logic and its expression, so that you may find its genuine intellectual intention and lay hold of a genuine concept, as Scripture says: “To find out words of delight, and that which was written uprightly, even words of truth” (Koheles 12:10).

If you consider my book in this spirit, with the help of God, it may be useful to you.

Parashas Re'eh: Hashem's Kindness Toward Misguided Piety

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Artwork: Painting of a Ewe and Her Lamb, by Niki Sawyer

Parashas Re'eh: Hashem's Kindness Toward Misguided Piety

Moshe Rabbeinu instructs Bnei Yisrael regarding the korbanos (sacrifices) they will begin to bring after conquering Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel) and building the Beis ha'Mikdash (Holy Temple). He informs them that once the Beis ha'Mikdash is built, it will become prohibited to bring korbanos in any other location:

Beware for yourself lest you bring up your burnt-sacrifices in any place that you see. Rather, only in the place that Hashem will choose, among one of your tribes, there shall you bring up your burnt-sacrifices, and there shall you do all that I command you. (Devarim 12:15-16)

Moshe Rabbeinu then goes on to qualify this statement:

However, in your soul's desire you may slaughter and eat meat, according to the blessing that Hashem, your God, will have given you in all your cities; the [ritually] impure one and the pure one may eat it, like the deer and the hart. (ibid. 12:17)

Rashi (ad loc.) notes that at first glance it would seem that this pasuk is talking about basar taavah (lit. "meat of desire") - that is, the meat of non-sanctified, non-sacrificed, everyday animals which we are permitted to eat outside of the Beis ha'Mikdash. In other words, it would seem that the pasuk is teaching us a categorical exception to the aforementioned rule that we may only slaughter animals in the Beis ha'Mikdash. In general we may only slaughter animals as part of the avodah (divine service) in the Beis ha'Mikdash; however, we may also slaughter animals outside of the context of avodah in order to satisfy our desire for meat. 

The problem with this interpretation is that the Torah's discussion of basar taavah doesn't occur until four pesukim later. There the Torah spells out the full heter (license) to slaughter animals for the purposes of basar taavah. Thus, if our pasuk is actually talking about basar taavah, then it would have been grouped with the other pesukim on the subject instead of being appended to a discussion about kodshim (animals that have been designated as sanctified for sacrificial purposes) in the Beis ha'Mikdash. 

What, then, is our pasuk talking about? Rashi explains:

So what is this pasuk speaking about? It is referring to kodshim that subsequently become blemished [and unfit for use as a korban]. [This teaches us] that they are to be redeemed (i.e. replaced by their equivalent value in money) and that they may then be eaten anywhere.

For instance, if I designate a sheep as a korban, it becomes kodesh, and is henceforth subject to me'ilah (the prohibition against deriving any personal benefit from the animal, e.g. eating its meat for one's own personal pleasure). If that sheep subsequently becomes blemished (e.g. it's eye gets poked out), then it is no longer fit to be brought as a korban. One might think that it would still be subject to the prohibition of meilah. Our pasuk comes to teach us that we are permitted to eat the animal's meat after we redeem the korban by paying its monetary value. 

The Sefer ha'Chinuch (Mitzvah #441) provides an interesting explanation for this mitzvah:

It was an act of chesed (kindness) for God to permit us to derive benefit from a sacrificial animal after it becomes blemished. Even though it was already set aside as kodesh, and the force of the shem shamayim (name of heaven) became attached to it, Hashem is righteous, and He acted righteously with His creatures; He lightens the scepter of His Kingship and His Exaltedness and is not exceedingly strict with them, saying, "Do not touch the kodesh, since it was Mine, if even for a moment!" 

Not only that, but He extended His kindness even further by obligating us [in the consumption of blemished korbanos] with a positive commandment. For if He had left this matter up to our own choice alone, perhaps someone might be reluctant, mi'derech chasidus (by way of piety), to touch them. However, since there is a fulfillment of a mitzvah in the matter, the person will not experience any worry. It is for this reason that the pasuk gave a broad elucidation, saying, "he [ritually] impure one and the pure one may eat it, like the deer and the hart" - in other words, the status of kedushah can never take effect on them; in other words, you should eat it without any worry.

The Sefer ha'Chinuch makes three points:

1. In a midas ha'din (strict justice) framework, even a blemished korban would be subject to the prohibition of me'ilah.
2. Hashem, as an act of chesed and tzedek, permitted us to eat this meat.
3. As an additional dimension of this chesed, Hashem made it a mitzvah to eat such meat, so that people wouldn't refrain from eating it, out of chasidus. 

I'd like to focus on the statement "perhaps someone might be reluctant, mi'derech chasidus, to touch them." This is the only place in his entire work where the Sefer ha'Chinuch uses the phrase "derech chasidus." The most straightforward interpretation is that he is referring to actual chasidus - pious behavior in which the individual goes beyond the letter of the law in order to achieve a higher degree of perfection. An example of this type of derech chasidus is spelled out by the Rambam at the end of Hilchos Tumas Ochlin (Laws of the Ritual Impurity of Foods 15:12): 

Even though it is permitted to eat foods and drink beverages which are tamei (ritually impure), the pious men of the early generations would partake of their ordinary food in a state of ritual purity and would avoid all of the sources of tumah throughout their lives. They are called perushim (lit. “those who separate themselves”). This is an extra measure of holiness and a derech chasidus (path of piety), to be separate from the rest of the nation, to hold oneself apart from them, not to touch them, nor eat and drink with them. For setting oneself apart leads to the purification of the body from wicked actions. Purifying one's body leads to sanctifying one's soul from wicked character traits. And the holiness of the soul causes one to resemble the shechinah, as it is stated: "And you shall make yourselves holy; and you shall be holy, because I, God, Who makes you holy, am holy" (Vayikra 11:44).

According to the Rambam, abstaining from foods and beverages which are tamei is a good type of derech chasidus behavior - at least, for those who use this conduct as a vehicle for perfection. Apparently, though, refraining from eating blemished kodshim is not a vehicle for perfection, as evidenced by the fact that Hashem commanded us to eat this meat. 

Thus, we can infer that when the Sefer ha'Chinuch speaks of derech chasidus in this context, he is referring to a misplaced feeling of piety - one which may be behaviorally described as a derech chasidus, but will not actually bring a person to a higher level of perfection.

If this is true, then chesed Hashem that is manifest in this mitzvah is remarkable, indeed. Not only does this mitzvah display Hashem's chesed in providing us with an opportunity to partake of meat which would otherwise go to waste, but even more than that, it displays His chesed in guiding aspiring chasidim away from a misguided act of chasidus.

In one mitzvah, Hashem addresses both extremes of human behavior: those who would feel deprived if such meat were prohibited, and those who would feel reluctant to partake of such meat even if it were permitted - all while guiding our minds to recognize His Kingship, His Exaltedness, and His kindness. This is an excellent example of how mitzvos are designed to benefit different groups of people in different ways.

I originally intended to include an attempt to explain why refraining from eating this meat would be an erroneous derech chasidus, but I ran out of time before Shabbos. I guess we'll have to continue this discussion in the comments next week!

Preface to Sefer Koheles (According to the Metzudos)

I will soon be embarking on my second year of Sefer Koheles, with a year's break in between. As part of my preparation, I've been reviewing the posts I wrote during my first go-around. Since those posts are not on this blog, I decided to repost them here. 

This post was originally published in April of 2012, as the kickoff of "Project Koheles" - my first attempt at "unlocking" Sefer Koheles. My chavrusa and I settled on the Metzudas David / Metzudas Tzion as our commentary of choice. Here was our plan:

My chavrusa and I plan on learning the sefer one section at a time. These "sections" will be determined by the actual paragraph break, or by wherever we see a new theme or natural division. I will begin each blog post with the Hebrew text and an English translation based on the Metzudos. I will then follow this up with a pasuk-by-pasuk elucidation in which I summarize the pshat according to our understanding of the Metzudos. At the end, I might include some additional insights, observations, or questions that arose over the course of our learning.

Even in retrospect, I am pleased with this first post. I still agree with the ideas, and am happy that our approach succeeded with these first eleven pesukim. 

Ultimately, the approach did not succeed. Thank God, it was replaced by a new one, which I wrote about then, and will repost tomorrow.

Artwork: All is Vanity (1892), by Charles Allan Gilbert

קהלת פרק א:א-יא

(א) דִּבְרֵי קֹהֶלֶת בֶּן דָּוִד מֶלֶךְ בִּירוּשָׁלִָם:

(ב) הֲבֵל הֲבָלִים אָמַר קֹהֶלֶת הֲבֵל הֲבָלִים הַכֹּל הָבֶל:

(ג) מַה יִּתְרוֹן לָאָדָם בְּכָל עֲמָלוֹ שֶׁיַּעֲמֹל תַּחַת הַשָּׁמֶשׁ:

(ד) דּוֹר הֹלֵךְ וְדוֹר בָּא וְהָאָרֶץ לְעוֹלָם עֹמָדֶת:

(ה) וְזָרַח הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ וּבָא הַשָּׁמֶשׁ וְאֶל מְקוֹמוֹ שׁוֹאֵף זוֹרֵחַ הוּא שָׁם:

(ו) הוֹלֵךְ אֶל דָּרוֹם וְסוֹבֵב אֶל צָפוֹן סוֹבֵב סֹבֵב הוֹלֵךְ הָרוּחַ וְעַל סְבִיבֹתָיו שָׁב הָרוּחַ:

(ז) כָּל הַנְּחָלִים הֹלְכִים אֶל הַיָּם וְהַיָּם אֵינֶנּוּ מָלֵא אֶל מְקוֹם שֶׁהַנְּחָלִים הֹלְכִים שָׁם הֵם שָׁבִים לָלָכֶת:

(ח) כָּל הַדְּבָרִים יְגֵעִים לֹא יוּכַל אִישׁ לְדַבֵּר לֹא תִשְׂבַּע עַיִן לִרְאוֹת וְלֹא תִמָּלֵא אֹזֶן מִשְּׁמֹעַ:

(ט) מַה שֶּׁהָיָה הוּא שֶׁיִּהְיֶה וּמַה שֶּׁנַּעֲשָׂה הוּא שֶׁיֵּעָשֶׂה וְאֵין כָּל חָדָשׁ תַּחַת הַשָּׁמֶשׁ:

(י) יֵשׁ דָּבָר שֶׁיֹּאמַר רְאֵה זֶה חָדָשׁ הוּא כְּבָר הָיָה לְעֹלָמִים אֲשֶׁר הָיָה מִלְּפָנֵנוּ:

(יא) אֵין זִכְרוֹן לָרִאשֹׁנִים וְגַם לָאַחֲרֹנִים שֶׁיִּהְיוּ לֹא יִהְיֶה לָהֶם זִכָּרוֹן עִם שֶׁיִּהְיוּ לָאַחֲרֹנָה: 

Koheles 1:1-11 (translation based on the commentary of Metzudos)

(1) The words of Koheles, son of David, king in Yerushalayim:

(2) "Recognize the futility of that which is futile!" says Koheles, "Recognize the futility of that which is entirely futile.

(3) What is gained by man in all of his labor in which he toils under the sun?

(4) A generation goes and a generation comes - but does the earth endure forever?

(5) And the sun rises and the sun sets - then to its place it rushes; there it rises again.

(6) It goes toward the south and veers toward the north; [its] desire goes round and round, and on its rounds the desire returns.

(7) All the rivers flow into the sea, yet the sea is not full; to the place where the rivers flow, there they flow once more.

(8) All matters are wearying, [too many] for man to be able to recount; the eye is never sated with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.

(9) Whatever has been is what will be, and whatever has been done is what will be done. There is nothing new under the sun.

(10) Sometimes there is something of which one says: "Look, this is new!" - this has already existed in the ages before us.

(11) As there is no recollection of the former ones, so too, of the latter ones that are yet to be, there will be no recollection among those of a still later time.

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Outline of Koheles 1:1-11

• Authorship and qualifications (1:1)
• Thesis and statement of purpose (1:2)
• Inquiry #1: Material possessions (1:3-11)
• Proposition: Pursuit of material possessions is hevel (1:3)
• Problem #1: Impermanence of possessors (1:4)
• Problem #2: Extrinsic obstacles (1:5-6)
• Problem #3: Intrinsic obstacles - insatiability of desire (1:6-7)
• Consequence: Perpetual frustration (1:8)
• Argument: Innovations can eliminate these obstacles (1:9-10)
• Counter-argument: There are no real innovations (1:10)
• Cause of error: Ignorance of the past (1:11)

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Elucidation: based on the commentary of Metzudos

(1) The words of Koheles, son of David, king in Yerushalayim:

In order to conduct a thorough investigation, one must approach the area of inquiry from three angles: (1) he should conduct a survey and an analysis of all possible theories to determine which are valid, (2) he should take into account the wisdom and knowledge of the experts in the field, and (3) he should rely on as much direct observation, experimentation, and firsthand experience as possible in order to have the largest and most reliable pool of data on which to base his conclusions.

For this reason, the copyist who transcribed Sefer Koheles began by stating that this work satisfies all three criteria: (1) the book contains "the words of Koheles" - literally, "the gatherer [of opinions]" - who surveyed and analyzed all of the various opinions to distinguish the true from the false; (2) in addition to relying on his own wisdom, he took into account the wisdom he received from David ha'Melech, his father, who was preeminent in wisdom and fear of God, and who taught him and raised him to be a man of truth; (3) Koheles based his conclusions on the vast amount of firsthand observations he gleaned in his capacity as king of Yerushalayim - the city that was the capital of the world, whose residents were renowned for their wisdom and intelligence.

For these three reasons, one can be assured that the conclusions of this book were arrived at through the most complete and comprehensive investigation possible.

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(2) "Recognize the futility of that which is futile!" says Koheles, "Recognize the futility of that which is entirely futile.

Metzudos translates the term "hevel" as "davar sh'ein bo mamash" meaning "that which has no substance" or "that which has no reality." Accordingly, we would be inclined to translate the term hevel as "nothingness," but we have found that this leads to some awkward phraseology. Therefore, we will stick with the traditional translation of hevel as "futile" or "futility," and only use the phrase "nothingness" when appropriate.

The phrase "havel havalim" is translated by most commentators as a noun qualified by an adjective: "vanity of vanities" or "futility of futilities." Consequently, Koheles is understood to be condemning the entirety of existence (or at least, "everything under the sun") as vain and futile.

The Metzudos, on the other hand, understands "havel havalim" as a command. He writes:

In this book, Koheles declares to mankind and warns them to recognize and to despise the futility of that which is futile (לההביל ולהמאיס את ההבלים); he then goes back and qualifies his statement, saying, "Recognize the futility of that which is entirely futile, in which you cannot find any worthy or valuable purpose; but as for the other futilities which ultimately have a beneficial purpose - it is not proper to view them as futile or to despise them, since they contain that which is good and beneficial." 

On the surface it seems that this will lead to a significantly different reading of the sefer than one might get from the other commentators. According to them, Koheles is claiming that everything under the sun is utterly futile, but according to the Metzudos, Koheles is acknowledging that some things are entirely futile and ought to be recognized and despised as such, whereas other things are only partially futile and should be valued for what they are.

After stating his thesis and statement of purpose, Koheles commences with his arguments.

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(3) What is gained by man in all of his labor in which he toils under the sun?

Koheles begins his investigation by examining amel tachas ha'shemes - man's pursuit of material possessions. He declares that no matter how much we toil in an attempt to achieve some real yisron (gain, profit, or advantage), our endeavors will only end in yegiah (weariness) and reus ruach (frustration). Koheles then proceeds with his analysis:

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(4) A generation goes and a generation comes - but does the earth endure forever?

Ultimately, there is one reason why the pursuit of material possessions is futile: human mortality. Even if you were to amass all of the money in the world, you will eventually die and you will not be able to take anything with you. What good is there in accumulation if nothing can be kept? What good is there in acquisition if one's ownership is only temporary?

The same holds true for all humans in every generation: no matter what degree of material success our generation achieves, and no matter how much splendor and glory it attains, its members will soon die out and be replaced by the individuals of the next generation. We all feel special during the show, but when the curtains close and the performance ends, we will be ushered out and a new audience will take our place. In a short time, we will be forgotten - just like the countless audiences that preceded us. Death is a cruel usher.

Some might try to console themselves by saying, "I know that I will one day die, but at least the fruits of my labor will be enjoyed by my children." Upon closer examination, this line of thinking is faulty for exactly the same reason. Are your children immortal? Aren't they, like you, destined to perish? And if your own mortality prevents your material success from being a real gain, then shouldn't the mortality of your offspring pose the same problem? Can you really derive a sense of accomplishment and consolation at the thought that all of the wealth you spent your life accumulating will ultimately be bequeathed to future generations who will neither recognize your name nor have any gratitude for you labor? How would you feel if your wealth were seized and distributed to thousands of strangers in a foreign country, and why do you think you will feel different about the prospect of your wealth being inherited by the legions of your faceless progeny in only a few generations down the line? 

Even "the earth" - the inhabitants of the civilized world - will not last forever. Societies and empires come and go, and whatever mark they make on the face of the planet will disappear, like sand castles on the shores of the sea. "The Egyptian, the Babylonian, and the Persian rose, filled the planet with sound and splendor, then faded to dream-stuff and passed away; the Greek and the Roman followed, and made a vast noise, and they are gone; other peoples have sprung up and held their torch high for a time, but it burned out, and they sit in twilight now, or have vanished" (Mark Twain).

So too, "the earth" itself which you inhabit "will become worn out, like a garment" (Yeshayahu 51:6) and cease to exist. Why, then, do you toil? You gather up the earth with your hands and hold it until death pries it from your clenched fists. Is there any real accomplishment in that? "What is gained by man in all of his labor in which he toils under the sun?"

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(5) And the sun rises and the sun sets - then to its place it rushes; there it rises again; (6) it goes toward the south and veers toward the north; [its] desire goes round and round, and on its rounds the desire returns. (7) All the rivers flow into the sea, yet the sea is not full; to the place where the rivers flow, there they flow once more.

Let us disregard, for the time being, the problem of man's mortality and the futility of chasing wealth on the way to the grave. Aside from that, the pursuit of material possessions is fraught with two types of obstacles: extrinsic and intrinsic.

The first category of obstacles to the pursuit of material success (i.e. the category of extrinsic obstacles) is allegorically represented by the orbit of the earth around the sun. The earth "desires" to fall into the sun; that is to say, it is attracted towards the sun by the gravitational force. However, due to the delicate balance between the speed of the earth and the strength of the sun's gravitational force, the earth ends up orbiting the sun in a state of perpetual "falling." Thus, its "desire" to fall is thwarted by the sun's gravitational force - an extrinsic obstacle, as it were.

The same is true of those who pursue material wealth. You can have the greatest ambitions for material success and be endowed with all of the skills needed to achieve it, but you will be faced with thousands of obstacles that stand in your way. Statistically speaking, the odds are against those who aspire to reach the pinnacle of financial success. Try as you might, you cannot control these external factors, and they will always threaten to prevent your success or to deprive you of success after you've worked so hard to achieve it.

The second category of obstacles to the pursuit of material success (i.e. the category of intrinsic obstacles) is allegorically represented by the water cycle. All rivers "desire" to fill up the larger bodies of water into which they flow; in other words, the rivers are are attracted towards the seas, oceans, and lakes by the gravitational force. However, due to various processes in the water cycle (e.g. infiltration, evaporation, subsurface flow, etc.), these bodies of water are never filled. Instead, the very same water that flows into them eventually makes its way back into the rivers themselves. Thus, the rivers are engaged a "self-defeating" attempt to fill the larger bodies of water which are the source of their own flow.

The same is true of the desire to pursue material wealth. The desire for wealth is insatiable, as Koheles states later on in the book: "One who loves money will never be satisfied by money; a lover of abundance has no wheat. This, too, is futility!" (ibid. 5:9). The more you feed this desire, the more dissatisfied you will be. All of the energy you invest in the attempt to allay this desire will only exacerbate it. [We will elaborate on this point when we reach that pasuk, God willing.]

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(8) All matters are wearying, [too many] for man to be able to recount; the eye is never sated with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.

Due to these three factors - man's mortality, the external obstacles to his acquisition of wealth, and the inherent insatiability of his desire for wealth - all of his material pursuits are wearisome and frustrating. There are so many examples and manifestations of these three factors that it would be impossible to enumerate them all, and any attempt to do so will be overwhelming.

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(9) Whatever has been is what will be, and whatever has been done is what will be done. There is nothing new under the sun. (10) Sometimes there is something of which one says: "Look, this is new!" - this has already existed in the ages before us. (11) As there is no recollection of the former ones, so too, of the latter ones that are yet to be, there will be no recollection among those of a still later time.

Man's natural reaction to these problems is to deny their existence. The most convenient way of doing this is to try to convince themselves that these problems are a thing of the past, and we have already overcome them or are close to overcoming them. Man will point to innovations in technology, commerce, government, and society and say, "See? We've made so much progress already, and soon enough, all of these problems will be behind us."

This is a mistake. The three factors enumerated above are part of human nature. No matter how many innovations we make, we cannot change human nature. We may be able to prolong our average lifespans, but we will never be able to defeat mortality. Technology can help us to control more external factors than we did in the past, but when we surmount these difficulties, we will be greeted by yet another host of factors that elude our control. We may succeed in achieving a greater degree of material success and prosperity than our predecessors, but this will only fuel our desires and increase our dissatisfaction with what we have.

What's more, if we were to examine past generations, we would see that they entertained the same illusions about their innovations that we do about ours. For example, we see the rapid pace of technological advances in our age and we feel that it is only a matter of time before we can overcome all of the obstacles that stand in our way of our material success - and yet, we have forgotten that mankind experienced the exact same belief at the very dawn of technology, with the invention of the plow at the time of Noach:

Lamech lived one hundred and eighty-two years, and begot a son. And he called his name Noach, saying, "This one will bring us rest from our work and from the toil of our hands, from the ground which Hashem has cursed" (Bereishis 5:28-29).

We laugh at our ancestors' conviction that the invention of the plow could remove their toil and frustration, but then we immediately delude ourselves with the same fantasies about Apple and Google, NASA and the Human Genome Project, the rise of the American democracy and the motion towards a global community, and so on. We scoff at the trust that the ancients put in "ancient technology," but fail to recognize the nature of the trust we put in "modern technology." We don't think about the fact that our modern technology will one day be considered "ancient" in the eyes of our descendants, who will laugh at us in the same way that we laughed at our ancestors.

It is not the innovations themselves that "have already existed in the ages before us," but rather, it is the fantasies and ambitions we attach to those innovations. "And as there is no recollection of the former ones, so too, of the latter ones that are yet to be, there will be no recollection among those of a still later time." Those who forget the fantasies of old are doomed to repeat them.

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Thus concludes our understanding of the preface and opening inquiry of Sefer Koheles according to the Metzudos. As mentioned above, this approach did not play out as planned. Perhaps, one day, it will be revisited, and will continue to yield insight. 

Parashas Eikev: On Attributing Our Success to Hashem

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post. This week's dvar Torah is a blog post I wrote in January 2012. 

Artwork: Fistful of Force, by Ralph Horsley

Parashas Eikvev: On Attributing Our Success to Hashem

"Who is responsible for my success?" To the Torah-observant Jew, the answer to this question is obvious: "Hashem is responsible for your success." This is certainly correct. The Torah addresses this exact question in the famous "kochi v'otzem yadi" passage:

Lest you eat and be satisfied, and you build good houses and settle, and your cattle and sheep and goats increase, and you increase silver and gold for yourselves, and everything that you have will increase – and your heart will become haughty and you will forget Hashem, your God, Who took you out of the land of Egypt from the house of slavery … And you will say in your heart, ‘My ability and the might of my own hand made me all this wealth!’ Then you shall remember Hashem, your God: that it is He Who gives you the ability to make wealth. (Devarim 8:12-18)

However, if we are honest with ourselves, some of us will be bothered by a nagging question in the back of our minds: "I understand that everything is from Hashem ... but are you really telling me that my own talents and abilities had nothing to do with my success, and that Hashem is the sole cause of my success?"

Thankfully, the Ran addresses this exact issue at the beginning of his tenth drashah:

[Moshe Rabbeinu] warned Yisrael about two things: (1) that they should not ascribe their success to their own ability and to the might of their hand, and (2) that they should not ascribe their conquest of the land to their own merit. He began by saying: “Lest you eat and be satisfied, and you build good houses and settle, and your cattle and sheep and goats increase … And you will say in your heart, ‘My ability and the might of my own hand made me all this wealth!’ Then you shall remember Hashem, your God: that it is He Who gives you the ability to make wealth.” 

The meaning of this is as follows: The truth is that people have different talents in different areas. For example, certain people are predisposed to receive wisdom, whereas others are predisposed to devise strategies to gather and amass [wealth]. On account of this, the wealthy man can truthfully say, from a certain angle, “My ability and the might of my hand made me this wealth.” Nevertheless, insofar as that ability was implanted within you, be sure to remember Who gives you the ability to make wealth.

Moshe did not say, “Then you shall remember that Hashem is the One Who gives you wealth,” for if he had said that, he would be minimizing [the fact] that the ability implanted within the person is an intermediate cause in the accumulation of that wealth – but this is not the case. Therefore he said: “Although your ability is what made you this wealth, you should remember Who gives you that ability (blessed is He).”

The Ran highlights what many of us miss: the Torah does not command us to remember that Hashem is the One Who gives us our wealth, but rather, the Torah commands us to remember that Hashem is the One Who gives us the ability to make wealth. 

This subtle distinction is extremely important, for without it, the Torah's statement would be false. Chazal teach us: "ha'kol bi'ydei shamayim chutz mi'yiras shamayim" which means "Everything is in the hands of heaven except for the fear of heaven" (Berachos 33b). Everything in the universe, from the smallest particle to the largest galaxy, is governed by the Divine laws of the Creator. There is only one exception: the free will decisions of human beings. Our choices, whether for good or bad, are caused by us - not by Hashem.

It is for this reason that the Ran writes: "the wealthy man can truthfully say, from a certain angle, 'My ability and the might of my hand made me this wealth.'" When J.D. Rockefeller founded Standard Oil, and when Warren Buffet invested in Berkshire Hathaway, and when Steve Jobs created the iPod, it was their decisions which were the intermediate causes of their success. To deny this fact would be to deny the Torah's fundamental principle of free will.

Nonetheless, the mistake of "kochi v'otzem yadi" is to feel as though one can take all or most of the credit for one's successes. Such a feeling would be false, foolish, and exceedingly egotistical. Consider the following categories of factors and ask yourself whether it's rational to take credit for your success:

• Abilities: Even though you made the choices that resulted in your wealth or success, Who gave you the ability to make such choices? Who gave you all of the talents and skills you needed in order to accomplish whatever it is that you accomplished? Can you really take credit for these abilities?
• Dispositions: And if you'll still try to take credit for developing these talents and skills through hard work, Who gave you the dispositions and character traits that enabled you to put in all of that hard work? How much of your personality - whether developed by nature or nurture - can you actually take credit for?
• Opportunities: Who is responsible for the opportunities you had to make those critical decisions? Likewise, Who gave you the opportunities to develop your talents and skills? Could you have made these decisions or developed your potential on your own, without these opportunities?
• Obstacles: Think of all the obstacles that could have delayed, impeded, or prevented your success. Think of all the things that could have gone wrong and led to your failure. Think of how many factors had to be in place for your plans to play out as they did. Can you really take credit for preventing these innumerable obstacles?
• Materials: Think of the materials necessary for you to achieve your success. Who created those materials with the properties they have? Who made them available for you to use? Did you create matter?
• Natural Laws: Think about the laws of nature that made your success possible. Who created those laws and keeps them running? Did you design the laws of the universe? 

I'm sure there are more categories than this, but the point is clear: it would be the utmost degree of egotism for a person to feel, "my ability and the might of my own hand made me this wealth." To relish that feeling is to forget Hashem and to set oneself up as the melech olam. This is the mentality that the Torah is coming to warn against. 

(Parenthetically, a friend of mine pointed out to me that Onkelos translates "כִּי הוּא הַנֹּתֵן לְךָ כֹּחַ לַעֲשׂוֹת חָיִל" as "ארי הוא יהיב לך עיצא למקני נכסין" which means "He is the One Who gives you counsel to acquire possessions." I am inclined to think that Onkelos is alluding to the idea expressed by the Ran - all by a subtle change in his translation of a single word.)

The Ran mentioned that Moshe warned Bnei Yisrael about two things: (1) that they should not ascribe their success to their own ability and to the might of their hand, and (2) that they should not ascribe their conquest of the land to their own merit. The second part of his warning pertains to the following pesukim:

Hear, O Israel, today you cross the Jordan, to come and drive out nations that are greater and mightier than you, cities that are great and fortified up to the heavens, a great and lofty people, children of giants, that you knew and of whom you have heard, “Who can stand up against the children of the giant?” But you know today that Hashem, your God – He crosses the border before you, a consuming fire; He will destroy them and He will subjugate them before you; you will drive them out and cause them to perish quickly, as Hashem spoke to you. Do not say in your heart, when Hashem pushes them away from before you, saying, “Because of my righteousness did Hashem bring me to possess the Land and because of the wickedness of these nations did Hashem drive them away from before you.” Not because of your righteousness and the uprightness of your heart are you coming to possess their Land, but because of the wickedness of these nations does Hashem, your God, drive them away from before you, and in order to establish the word that Hashem swore to your forefathers, to Avraham, to Yitzchak, and to Yaakov. And you should know that not because of your righteousness does Hashem, your God, give you this good Land to possess it, for you are a stiff-necked people. (Devarim 9:1-6)

The Ran notes a discrepancy in the pesukim: at first Moshe criticizes those who attribute their success to their own ability and might, but now he criticizes those who attribute their success to their righteousness and uprightness of heart. What is the relationship between these two erroneous patterns of thinking? 

The Ran explains: 

Here he did not say, “My ability and the power of my hand etc.” but he said, “Do not say in your heart, when Hashem pushes them away from before you, saying, 'Because of my righteousness did Hashem bring me to possess the Land etc.'” This is as if he is saying: “Listen to me further, O Israel, regarding that matter about which you are doubtful. For you are crossing the Jordan to come to drive out from the Land nations that are bigger and stronger than you. I am not worried that you will claim that you overpowered them with your power, for  [in truth] they are bigger and stronger than you, and you lack the ability [to defeat them]. Rather, since it is Hashem (blessed is He) Who is driving them out, and not your own power, I am worried that you will say in your heart that it is your righteousness and uprightness of heart that caused this. 

The reason for this as follows: due to his ego and haughtiness (which distorts his own practical thinking), man will ascribe his successes to himself in any way possible. In matters that are contingent on his wisdom and good planning he will think that his own wisdom is what prevailed for him. In matters that he perceives as exceeding his abilities and planning, he will ascribe [his successes] to his own merit. 

Therefore, Moshe said: “Regarding the conquest of these mighty nations which surpass you in strategic planning and power – I am afraid, lest you ascribe this matter to your righteousness. Do not do this, for you are a stiff-necked people, and you are not worthy of this on the basis of your merit, for you have sinned and rebelled excessively against the Word of Hashem (blessed is He),” as he recounts to them in great detail in the pesukim (ibid. 9:7-24), and in general by saying, “You have been rebels against Hashem from the day that I knew you!” (ibid. 9:24).

This is a much sneakier ploy of the yeter ha'ra: attributing our success to our "merit." The tricky thing about "merit" is that it can feel like we are giving credit to Hashem, since we do believe that Hashem rewards us on the basis of our merit. But as the Ran points out, this might just another expression of egotism. Even worse, one can easily slip into the mentality that Hashem owed you this success, which is another (albeit more subtle) form of "forgetting Hashem."

This egotistical sense of merit-based entitlement can manifest itself in many forms. In the case of Bnei Yisrael, their feeling of merit was attached to their sense of "righteousness and uprightness of heart." All types of merit ultimately boil down to the same basic feeling: "I deserve success because I am special." This is the second mentality the Torah comes to warn against.

To summarize: whenever we achieve success, we must guard against the egotistical tendency to take credit for that success. There are two erroneous mentalities we can fall into: (1) "kochi v'otzem yadi," - forgetting that Hashem is the cause of every aspect of our success (with the sole exception of the actual choices we make), and (2) "baavur tzidkasi" - believing that Hashem helped us succeed because we have special merit, and are entitled to our success.

Parashas Vaeschanan: ???

Dear Readers, 

Your regularly scheduled weekly dvar Torah for Parashas Vaeschanan is stuck in development. There's a big idea here that I've been trying to get down in writing. It's something of a sequel to the Krias ha'Torah for Tishah b'Av series AND the Rambam: On Becoming Acquainted with Truth series. I've worked on it for three days, and it has eluded me. 

For now, it will remain in development. If, and when, it is finished, I will publish it, even after this year's Parashas Vaeschanan passes us by. 

- Kol ha'Seridim 

P.S. Just a reminder: this coming week I will begin intensive school preparations. Don't expect many blog posts. Have a great week!

Mishlei 18:9 - Destruction Through Laxity

משלי יח:ט

גַּם מִתְרַפֶּה בִמְלַאכְתּוֹ אָח הוּא לְבַעַל מַשְׁחִית:

Mishlei 18:9
Also one who is lax in his work is a brother to the master destroyer.

Major Questions / Problems

1. Who is this "master destroyer"?
2. What does it mean to be his "brother"?
3. Why focus on "one who is lax in his work"? 
4. What does the word "also" add? 
5. General Mishlei question: What is the subject of the pasuk? 

Artwork: Structural Collapse, by Sam Burley

Four Sentence Summary of the Main Idea

If “master destroyer” is someone who actively brings about destruction, then a “brother” to the master destroyer is someone who causes the same level of destruction in a different manner – in this case, through passivity. The audience of this pasuk is the person whose laxity causes the quality of his work to suffer, thereby resulting in a type of destructiveness. Such an individual tends to rationalize his laxity by defining himself as “a worker,” which allows him to reassure himself and other people, saying, “See? I’m working!” Perhaps this is why the pasuk doesn't specify the consequences of this person’s behavior, but instead, calls him out on his rationalization, as if to say, “You may wish to define yourself as a worker, but in truth, you are a destroyer.”

Blogging in August: Time to Scale Back

Dear Readers, 

I can't believe it, but it's already that time again: time to start preparing for the classes I'll be teaching this year. As much as I'd like to keep up a daily blogging schedule, I'm going to have to scale back my operation in order to make time for school prep. This means two changes: 

1. Instead of publishing five posts each week (once every weekday), I'll probably only post two or three each week. The Friday dvar Torah will be my top priority, followed by "whatever I'm in the mood to write" blog posts. I'm really going to try to get into the habit of doing more short Mishlei posts, since those are easy to write. But I can't make any promises.
   
2. Instead of making sure that new posts are up by the time New Yorkers get out of bed, I'm just going to post whenever I get around to it. I can't keep up with the time pressure of making sure that the next day's blog post is finished by the time I turn in for the night. I will post whenever is most convenient for me, no matter how irregularly that will be. Following me on Facebook is probably the easiest way to be notified when a new post goes up.

When the school year actually starts, I may have to return to my school-year schedule of one post each week, with the occasional miscellaneous post. We'll see. 

I think that's all I have to say for now. Thanks for reading! This blog would not be possible without you.

- Kol ha'Seridim

Ayn Rand, Art, and Avodah Zarah

This may be read as a stand-alone post AND as a continuation of yesterday's post on the kriah of Tishah b'Av. Those who have read yesterday's post will see why; those who haven't won't. 

According to the Rambam, there are three Torah prohibitions against the production of physical idols:

1. Not to make a pesel (idol), and not to have a pesel made for oneself by others - as it is stated, "Do not make for yourself a pesel, or any image" (Shemos 20:4; Devarim 5:7)
2. Not to make a pesel even for others - as it is stated, "Molten gods do not make for yourselves" (Vayikra 19:4)
3. Not to make tzuros (statues) even for aesthetic purposes, even if they are not worshiped, as it is stated, "Do not make with Me gods of silver" (Shemos 20:20). [Note: According to the Rambam, this third lo taaseh only prohibits making statues of human beings, statues which symbolize celestial bodies, and statues which represent angels; statues of non-human animals, plants, and or other earthly creatures are not prohibited by Torah law.]

It can be quite difficult to relate to these prohibitions. Avodah zarah, itself, is a hard enough concept to understand, but the notion of manufacturing and worshiping idols is especially foreign (no pun intended) to our "modern sensibilities." It is difficult to imagine a burning desire to make an idol and bow down to it. 

Unfortunately, the "unrelatability" of these prohibitions makes it is easy to regard them as largely irrelevant. We can appreciate why they were practical in ancient times, but we tend to feel that they have little or nothing to do with our present lives. This is particularly true for the prohibition against making statues for aesthetic purposes, which might seem excessive to the average Westernized person. 

My entire view of this subject changed drastically, thanks to an idea from Ayn Rand. One of her most under-appreciated books is The Romantic Manifesto (1969), which is a collection of essays on her philosophy of art and literature. In this book Ayn Rand proposes a philosophical definition of art, and it is this definition which opened my mind to understanding the Torah's prohibitions against idols. Here are her words, with her emphasis in bold: 

Metaphysics – the science that deals with the fundamental nature of reality – involves man's widest abstractions. It includes every concrete he has ever perceived, it involves such a vast sum of knowledge and such a long chain of concepts that no man could hold it all in the focus of his immediate conscious awareness. Yet he needs that sum and that awareness to guide him – he needs the power to summon them into full, conscious force.

That power is given to him by art.

Art is a selective re-creation of reality according to an artist's metaphysical value-judgments.

By a selective re-creation, art isolates and integrates those aspects of reality which represent man’s fundamental view of himself and of existence. Out of the countless number of concretes – of single, disorganized and (seemingly) contradictory attributes, actions and entities – an artist isolates the things which he regards as metaphysically essential and integrates them into a single new concrete that represents an embodied abstraction.

For instance, consider two statues of man: one as a Greek god, the other as a deformed medieval monstrosity. Both are metaphysical estimates of man; both are projections of the artist’s view of man’s nature; both are concretized representations of the philosophy of their respective cultures.

Art is a concretization of metaphysics. Art brings man’s concepts to the perceptual level of his consciousness and allows him to grasp them directly, as if they were percepts.

Although Ayn Rand was writing about all forms of art, her words ring especially true with regards to the art of sculpture. To get a better idea of what she means, take a look at the most famous statues in the world. These statues are much more than material depictions of the human form. They are concretizations of philosophical (metaphysical) abstractions and entire worldviews. The "Christ the Redeemer" statue looming over Rio de Janeiro bespeaks the majestic, redemptive love which is the chief appeal of Christianity. The "Grand Buddha" at Ling Shan conveys the sublime authority of an enlightened teacher. The "Great Sphinx of Giza" exudes the regal power of the Egyptian gods and the Egyptian Empire. The towering statues of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il embody the national prosperity and beneficence which North Koreans are expected to associate with their "beloved" leaders. The Statue of Liberty stands overlooking New York Harbor as a symbol of freedom and opportunity - a regal mother-figure welcoming those who arrive at America's shores seeking a better life. 

Ayn Rand's explanation helped me to appreciate why physical representations hold such power (yes, pun intended). The last sentence of the excerpt says it all: "Art brings man’s concepts to the perceptual level of his consciousness and allows him to grasp them directly, as if they were percepts." What makes these statues so powerful is that they convey their underlying philosophies and value systems immediately and directly to the psyche, without language and without the mediation of the analytic mind - as if the philosophies they represent were perceived by the five senses. Since we are inclined to accept as real whatever we perceive with our senses, any physical representation of avodah zarah functions to strengthen the beliefs and values of its worshipers. Moreover, it allows worshipers to feel as though they are interacting with a metaphysical reality via a physical, tangible, perceivable entity. 

"Cool idea! But does that really change anything? Aren't these prohibitions still difficult to relate to?" On a practical level, yes. We no longer have the desire to bow down to physical idols. However, we do have the same psychological need for concrete expressions of our beliefs and value systems, and capacity to have a visceral experience when that need is gratified. If you have ever been moved to joy or to tears by a piece of music which wordlessly conveys emotional content, or a still photograph charged with symbolic meaning, or a video clip which evokes feelings like awe and gratitude in something ordinarily regarded as mundane - if you have had any experience in which a selective arrangement of sensory data has evoked a feeling that you are beholding something more real than what you are perceiving with your eyes and ears, then you have tapped into the same part of the psyche from which primitive idolatry arose, and in which the present-day sublimated forms of avodah zarah still survive and thrive. I believe that this type of experience is akin to what the ancient idolaters felt in their worship of graven images. 

To be clear: I am not saying that art is avodah zarah, nor am I equating the emotions evoked by art with the emotions involved in idolatry. Rather, I am merely suggesting that Ayn Rand's theory sheds light on how the art of sculpture is regarded by the Torah as the primary medium of avodah zarah. 

Perhaps we can now understand why the Torah went so far as to prohibit making statues even for aesthetic purposes. The Rambam (Sefer ha'Mitzvos: Lo Taaseh #4) explains: "This [prohibition which] distances us from making any statues whatsoever is so that we do not think about them what the fools who worship avodah zarah think, namely, that these statues possess power." Back when primitive avodah zarah was rampant, the Torah was undoubtedly concerned that people might come to worship such statues. But perhaps the Torah also commanded us in this harchakah (precautionary safeguard) in order to prevent man from indulging, through art, the same psychological urges which give rise to full-blown idolatry. After all, the psyche is a volatile thing, and the psycho-dynamics associated with art are so powerful that they can easily be hijacked by religiosity.

With this insight, perhaps we can begin answer some of the questions we raised on the krias ha'Torah of Tishah b'Av about Moshe's repeated warnings against associating imagery with the Revelation at Sinai, and against making images to represent the celestial bodies. Stay tuned!