Parashas Shemos: Seventy Souls and Seventy Perspectives

Originally written as a "newsletter dvar Torah" for the general populace, and posted in January 2012.

Seventy Souls and Seventy Perspectives

The second chapter of Sefer Shemos begins with the birth of Moshe Rabbeinu: “A man went from the house of Levi and he took a daughter of Levi. The woman conceived and gave birth to a son.” [1] This woman is subsequently identified as Yocheved. [2] 

The birth of Yocheved poses a difficulty in light of an earlier pasuk: “All the people of Yaakov’s household who came to Egypt were seventy.” [3] The Gemara notes the difficulty that the Chumash only lists 69 individuals. The Gemara answers by identifying the 70th individual as Yocheved, explaining that her name was omitted from the list because she “came to Egypt” in her mother’s womb and was “born between the walls” as Bnei Yisrael entered Egypt. [4] 

This Gemara leads us to an astounding conclusion. Based on the timeline in the Chumash, it turns out that Yocheved was 130 years old when she gave birth to Moshe! [5]

Rashi and Ramban take this Gemara at face value, as literal fact. [6] They maintain that the birth of Moshe to the 130-year-old Yocheved was a miracle. Indeed, the Gemara itself refers to her birth as a miracle. [7] Ibn Ezra and Ralbag disagree. They argue that that if the Torah went out of its way to mention the miraculous birth of Yitzchak to the 90-year-old Sarah, then it certainly would have mentioned the miraculous birth of Moshe to a 130-year-old Yocheved. [8] Ralbag adds that the Torah’s makes it a point to publicize miracles by mentioning them explicitly, since miracles are a cornerstone of our belief in God. [9]

How, then, do Ibn Ezra and Ralbag explain the aforementioned Gemara, which openly states that Moshe’s birth was a miracle? Their answer is simple: they interpret this Gemara as a non-literal midrash. Ralbag theorizes that the midrash was written “for the benefit of the masses, to establish in their hearts the power of Hashem’s ability to do miracles.” How do they explain the fact that the Chumash asserts that 70 souls went down to Egypt, but the pesukim only list 69 names? – Their answer is simple: by including Yaakov himself in the total of 70. And what about Yocheved’s Age? – Ralbag explains that if we assume Yocheved was born at the end of Levi’s life, then she would have only been 58 years old when she gave birth to Moshe; while this might be a late age to have a child, it would not require us to posit a miracle.

This machlokes provides us with the opportunity for a valuable methodology lesson. People often invoke the principle of “shivim panim l’Torah” ("there are seventy faces/perspectives to the Torah") [10] when confronted by divergent views. Unfortunately, the application of this principle is often misunderstood. Some people use “shivim panim l’Torah” as a way of saying, “All views are equally valid.” In my opinion, this represents an incorrect understanding of the principle. Rather, “shivim panim l’Torah” means that it is possible to have multiple valid theories to explain a certain set of facts. In some subjects – such as halacha, and certain areas of ethics and politics – conflicting theories can be equally true. But in other subjects – such as science, philosophy, metaphysics, and history – there is only one truth, since there is only one reality.

Our machlokes serves as an example of the latter. Does “shivim panim l’Torah” mean that the opposing views of these Rishonim are both true? No. That would be impossible. Either Yocheved was 130 years old when she gave birth to Moshe, or she 58. Both cannot be true. Rather, “shivim panim l’Torah” means that both views are based on sound theories. Both theories are logical, both are supported by solid evidence and reasoning, and both offer valuable insights into Torah. It is in that sense that we can invoke “shivim panim la’Torah.” 

[1] Sefer Shemos 2:1-2
[2] ibid. 6:20; Bamidbar 26:59
[3] Sefer Bereishis 46:27
[4] Talmud Bavli: Maseches Bava Basra 123b
[5] Given that the Jews lived in Egypt for 210 years, and Moshe was 80 years old when he spoke to Paroh, he must have been born 130 after the arrival of Bnei Yisrael in Egypt. Thus, if Yocheved was born “between the walls” as Bnei Yisrael entered Egypt, she must have been 130 years old when she gave birth to Moshe.
[6] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Shemos 2:1; Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 46:15, 26
[7] Talmud Bavli: Maseches Bava Basra 119b-120a
[8] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra, Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 46:27
[9] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Shemos 1:7

Plans for Winter 2016

Dear readers, 

January 2016 is right around the corner. While I still do not have time to fully commit to regular blogging, I would like to at least make an effort to resume my endeavor to edit and transfer blog posts from the old blog to the new one. I'm going to start with the realistic goal of transferring the weekly divrei Torah posts, and establish that as my new routine for 2016. If that should happen to lead me to edit and transfer other old posts - great! And if my renewed involvement in the blog should happen to lead me to actually write an occasional new post - even better! 

No promises. But if you're a fan, then keep your eye on the blog.

- Kol ha'Seridim

Artwork: Enduring Renewal, by Harold McNeill

Yom ha'Kippurim 5776: Fasting as "Literal" Self-sacrifice

Here is a hastily written blog post which - thank God - I have been able to finish shortly before Yom ha'Kippurim. Pardon any typos and errors. I didn't have time edit this. Enjoy!

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Artwork: Gaze of Justice, by John Avon

Yom ha'Kippurim 5776: Fasting as "Literal" Self-sacrifice

The Question

The Abravanel offers an interesting explanation of the taanis (fast) on Yom ha'Kippurim. He writes: 

The benefit of fasting and abstaining from melachah on this Sanctified Day [of Yom ha'Kippurim] is clear, for through this, the soul withdraws [its energy from attachment to the physical] to cling to Hashem (exalted is He). The physical component of a person is drawn to transient things, and when it becomes weakened, the part of him which desires permanent things - namely, the intellect - prevails. 

The Kabbalists mention that there are metaphysical forces above which consume the korban when the [miraculous] fire descends upon the mizbeach (altar). Corresponding to these forces, below, are the limbs of man which consume his fat and blood, by means of the vital heat within him. Therefore, they commanded that on a day of taanis, a person should focus his spirit and his soul as if he were a mizbach kaparah (altar of atonement) on which his own fat and blood are burned from his own [vital] heat within him, in service of his Creator. 

They instituted [a practice] that a person should say during his fast: "[Master of worlds, it is revealed and known before You that during the time when the Beis ha'Mikdash stood, a man would sin and bring a korban, and he would only offer its fat and blood, and it would atone for him. And now I have sat in my taanis, and my own fat and blood have been diminished.] May it be Your will that the diminution of my fat and blood be [as if I offered it before You on the mizbeach, and You favored me."]

And in the Midrash Rus they said that Rebbi Nechunya ben ha'Kaneh said to the Sages: "My sons! [I swear by] your lives that there is no korban which finds favor before God more than the heart of man which is burned on his taanis."  

There's quite a bit to work with here, but this year I'd like to focus on just one question: What is the idea behind diminishing one's own fat and blood through taanis as a sort of quasi-literal "self-sacrifice" comparable to a korban? Sure, the idea has a nice religio-poetic ring to it, but I would like to understand the idea behind it, if possible.

Ramban on Korbanos

When I first started working on this question with my chavrusas, the first idea that came to mind was the Ramban's explanation of korbanos (I don't have time to look up the original source right now). Ramban writes:

Because human deeds are carried to completion by thought, speech, and action, Hashem (blessed is He) commanded that when a person sins, he is to bring an offering and rest his hands upon it – which constitutes action; he is to confess [his sin] with his mouth – which constitutes speech; and he is to burn in the fire [of the altar] the entrails and the kidneys, which are the vessels of thought and desire, and the legs, which correspond to a man’s hands and feet, that do all his work. The blood is to be sprinkled on the altar, corresponding to his blood, which gives him life – so that a man will consider, as he does all these [acts], that he sinned toward God with his body and his spirit, and he deserves that his blood should be spilled and his body burned – if not for the kindness of the Creator, that He has taken from him the offering as exchange and substitute, that its blood should be instead of his blood, one life in place of another.

In other words, the Ramban views the korban as a substitute for the sinner. In truth, when a person sins, he should be the one who forfeits his life on the altar. Thankfully, Hashem - in His abundant kindness - allows him to sacrifice a korban in his place. By recognizing the nature of this substitution, the korban may serve as a vehicle of kaparah. 

If we take this as our model for how korbanos work, then it isn't too difficult to see the connection to the Abravanel's explanation of taanis. In contrast to korbanos, which are a substitute for sacrificing our own flesh and blood on the altar, a taanis is an actual act of sacrificing our own flesh and blood on "the altar" of the body. 

The Problematic Assumption

Something has always bothered me about this Ramban. Specifically, I am bothered by what this implies about Hashem's justice. To put it bluntly: I am troubled by the implication that unintentional* sins are inherently chayav misah (liable for death), and that Hashem is just "waiting" to take the life of anyone who makes a mistake.

Why do I find this to be problematic? Because this does not sound like the God we worship. The God we worship is Av ha'Rachamim. The God we worship is "a merciful and gracious God, slow to anger, and abundant in kindness and truth, preserver of kindness for thousands of generations, forgiver of iniquity, willful sin, and error, etc." (Shemos 34:6-7). The God we worship is not eager to kill those who err. To the contrary, Hashem says, "Why should you die, O House of Israel? For I do not desire the death of the one who should die - the word of Hashem-Elokim. Do teshuvah and live!" (Yechezkel 18:32). These messages of mercy are repeated throughout the Tanach, and are frequently referenced in the tefilos and piyutim of the Yomim Noraim. 

When I have brought up this objection to my chavrusas in the past, the response is usually something along the lines of: "Of course Hashem doesn't actually hold a person liable for death for doing an unintentional cheit! The Ramban is speaking within the framework of 'absolute middas ha'din.' But Hashem also relates to us with the middas ha'rachamim, and that is why He doesn't kill us!" 

To my mind, such explanations sidestep the real problem, namely, the notion that Hashem's middas ha'din dictates that those who err should be killed. It's very nice to say that the middas ha'rachamim overrides this "absolute middas ha'din," but I'm still bothered by the notion that the middas ha'din demands death in the first place. 

Hashem created us with free will, and it is within the nature of a free-will being to make mistakes and bad decisions, as Shlomo ha'Melech said, "For there is no righteous man on earth who does [only] good and does not sin" (Koheles 7:20). Even within a strictly middas ha'din framework (i.e. "Bereishis bara Elokim es ha'shamayim ve'es ha'aretz, etc."), man will sin, and if such sins are chayav misah, then the middas ha'din framework is built to fail! 

One might counter by saying/repeating, "But that's why Hashem relates to us with middas ha'rachamim!" And then we'd run in circles. At the end of the day, you are either intellectually comfortable with the notion of a "zero tolerance" absolute middas ha'din which is mitigated by middas ha'rachamim, or you are not, and I am not. Hence, my trouble with this reading of the Ramban.

* I say "unintentional" because one can only bring a korban to atone for unintentional transgressions - not intentional or rebellious ones.

An Alternative Understanding of the Ramban

I would like to propose an alternative understanding of this Ramban which, to my mind, is more metaphysically sound than the superficial reading of his view cited above, and which might also help us to understand the Abravanel's explanation of taanis. 

In order to understand the Ramban, let us turn to the opening words of the Rambam's Hilchos Yesodei ha'Torah:

The foundation of foundations and the pillar of all science is to know that there is a Primary Existence, Who brought all of existence into existence, and all of the existences from heaven and earth and everything in between only exist from the Reality of His Existence. And if, theoretically, He did not Exist, nothing else would be able to exist. And if, theoretically, all of the other existences besides Him didn’t exist, He alone would Exist, and He would not be negated by their negation, for all the existences need Him, but He (blessed is He) does not need them, nor any one of them.

Hashem is the One and Only Independent Existence. He does not need any other existence in order to Exist. We, on the other hand, are contingent existences, and are absolutely dependent on the True Existence for our existence. Where it not for His will for us to exist, our existence would cease.

This is the meaning of "olam chesed yibaneh - the world is built on kindness" (Tehilim 99:3). In other words, Hashem didn't need to create the universe, and the universe has no claim on Him. Rather, His creation of the universe is purely an act of chesed. The same is true of His continual maintenance of the universe and everything in it - including us. In other words, we have no inherent "right" to exist. Our existence is granted to us, by His chesed. 

Everything in the universe exists by virtue of His will, and in accordance with His will. There is only one exception: human beings. As the only creatures who have free will, we can choose to go against His will, thereby undermining the basis of our own existence.

With this yesod, we can make a critical move to modify our understanding of the Ramban's idea. Ready for it? Replace the Ramban's references to "death" with "non-existence." In other words, when we violate Hashem's will through cheit, it's not that "we deserve to die" in the sense of "Hashem wants to kill us." Rather, since we only exist by virtue of Hashem's will, when we go against His will, we are undercutting the means by which we exist.

In truth, it is unbelievable that we should continue to exist after contravening His will. Can physical matter continue exist in violation of the laws of physics? Of course not! Then how can we contingent existences continue to exist when we subvert that contingency by violating His laws? That is where the middas ha'rachamim comes in. Hashem allows us to exist even though we inherently have no right to exist, and even though we have deviated from His will. As Chazal teach: Hashem's mercy is before the cheit, and Hashem's mercy is after the cheit.

According to the Ramban, korbanos are designed to remind us of this idea. It's not that Hashem would like to slaughter us on the altar when we make a mistake. Rather, when we are forced to recognize the contingency of the animal's existence when we watch it being slaughtered and offered on the mizbeach, we are compelled - by virtue of the similarities between ourselves and the animal - to recognize the contingency of our own existence, and to realize that we only exist through Hashem's chesed.

Back to the Abravanel

Now perhaps we can understand the Abravanel's idea of taanis as a "sacrifice" of one's own fat and blood. On a simple level, a taanis forces us to recognize our own dependency on Hashem's systems of sustenance within nature, in the sense of, "Poseach es yadecha u'masbia l'chol chai ratzon - You open  Your hand and fulfill the desire of every living thing" (Tehilim 145:16). The experience of fasting forces us to face the fact that we are unable to live without Hashem's provisions - that our very biological lives are dependent on His will, as expressed in His systems in nature.

But within this lies a reminder of a deeper truth: the fact that we, and the entire physical universe we inhabit, are contingent existences. In other words, not only is it true that within the physical world, we are dependent on Hashem's systems to survive - but rather, the entire physical world itself, with all of its systems, is dependent on Hashem's will for its existence.

When we refrain from eating and drinking, and our own physical matter begins to diminish (read: to fade away into non-existence), this brings to mind our own nature - that we are beings whose existence is not intrinsic, which is utterly dependent on the will of our Creator. When we fast, and we reflect on the fact that our physical matter is vanishing - passing from existence into non-existence - this alerts us to the realization that our lives are bordering that tenuous line between existence and non-existence. As much as we would like to imagine that we have an inherent right to exist, and that we are a "Primary Existence" which is independent and secure, we know that this is not true.** This recognition facilitates our teshuvah, and brings us to kaparah.

Lehavdil, this reminds me of the scene at the end of Back to the Future, where Marty watches in horror as his own hand begins to fade away into non-existence. He realizes that his interference with the space-time continuum has jeopardized his own existence - that his existence is not something he can take for granted, but is something which is highly contingent. His sudden awareness of his own contingency fills him with a powerful sense of urgency - the need to do something to restore and stabilize his own existence.

In Marty's case, his fate rested in the hands of someone else, and he was helpless. That is not true in our case. Although we may have undermined the basis of our own existence by going against the will of our Creator, we have been granted a remedy: teshuvah. So long as we are alive, we can change our ways, and realign ourselves with His will.

The time for Yom ha'Kippurim is approaching fast, and I'm afraid I must end the blog post here. I hope that this afforded at least some insight into the themes and mitzvos of the day. Have a gmar chasimah tovah, and a good new year! 

** Indeed, the entire day of Yom ha'Kippurim revolves around the Shem Havaya - the name of God which refers to His Existence. It is imperative that we recognize the stark difference between His Existence and our existence, and the relationship between the two. I wanted to write more about this, but I didn't have time. Maybe next year - if I am granted existence for that long!

Yom ha'Din and Yom ha'Teruah

This is my attempt to write up a burgeoning insight about Rosh ha'Shanah - one which I feel is quite big, but which I haven't yet gone over with all of my chavrusas yet. I thought it would be best to write it up now, so that I can gain some clarity before Rosh ha'Shanah, and so that those who read it can think about it over the Yom Tov, and maybe provide feedback during the Aseres Ymei Teshuvah. Enjoy!

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Artwork: Time Sieve, by Franz Vohwinkel

Yom ha'Din and Yom ha'Teruah

Rosh ha'Shanah in the Written Torah

One cannot read through the Torah's presentation of the moadim (holidays) in Parashas Emor without noticing the sparseness of the Torah's treatment of Rosh ha'Shanah. When discussing the other moadim the pesukim (verses) go into detail about the laws and themes of the day, but when it comes to Rosh ha'Shanah, the pesukim have barely anything to say about the nature of the day:

In the seventh month, on the first of the month, there shall be a rest day for you, a zichron teruah (remembrance of a shofar-cry), a holy convocation. You shall not do any laborious work, and you shall offer a fire-offering to Hashem.

The holiday is not given a name, nor is its character mentioned, nor are any laws explicitly spelled out. Even the central mitzvah - hearing the sound of the shofar - is barely alluded to. All we have to work with are two words: zichron teruah.

Perhaps the most shocking omission is the fact that nowhere does the Written Torah identify Rosh ha'Shanah as the Yom ha'Din (Judgment Day). In fact, there is no reference anywhere in the Written Torah to a "judgment day" of any kind. This fact is mentioned only in the Oral Torah, but one would not even be aware of it by reading the pesukim. 

What are we to make of all this? How are we meant to view Rosh ha'Shanah based on its presentation in the Written Torah, and how should we go about reconciling this view with the additional - and seemingly essential - information provided by the Oral Torah? 

We will leave these questions aside for the time being and focus on a more important question: What is the Yom ha'Din? Every Jew who grows up going to Rosh ha'Shanah services has some notion of judgment day. The liturgy is rife with imagery: the True Judge sitting on His throne of judgment, the Book of Life and the Book of Death open before Him, a judgment being pronounced which determines the course of events for the rest of the year, the final verdict being sealed on Yom ha'Kippurim, and so on. To what extent do these images reflect the reality of what happens on Rosh ha'Shanah, and to what extent are they merely byproducts of our own imagination? 

This year I stumbled upon an explanation which radically changed my view of the Yom ha'Din. That explanation was provided by the Abravanel, in his commentary on the Torah. I will do my best to convey that view to you now, and I will do so in my usual style of translating the text and commenting on it step by step.

Rosh ha'Shanah as Yom ha'Din

The Abravanel begins by explaining the nature of the din (judgment) that happens on Rosh ha'Shanah. You will quickly notice that the Abravanel is working with certain premises that are rooted in Aristotelian physics, which we now know to be false. In my treatment of the Abravanel's explanation I will do my best to adapt his worldview to one which is consistent with our current scientific model: 

I have already explained in Parashas Bo, in the Parashas ha'Chodesh, that Rosh Chodesh Tishrei is the beginning of the year and its true starting-point, based on the nature of the physical universe, based on the motion of the sun, the moon, and the celestial sphere of the constellations. 

The starting-point of any phenomenon provides us with indications about the [future] occurrences which pertain to that phenomenon, based on the celestial circumstances at that initial time. For example, just as the celestial circumstances at the time of a person's birth will indicate all of the future occurrences of his life, so too, the celestial circumstances at the starting-point of Rosh ha'Shanah will indicate all of the occurrences of that year.

This is true with regards to the occurrences which pertain to the world as a whole, including satiety and famine, health and sickness, death and life, war and peace, and similarly for all other things which pertain to the world as a whole. This is also true with regards to each and every country within the inhabited world ... and with regards to the particulars of each and every person, in accordance with the circumstances of his birth, i.e. this one will die, this one will live, this one will profit, this one will lose, and likewise with all similar circumstances. 

Let's stop here for a second and examine the Abravanel's premises:

1. Premise #1: Rosh ha'Shanah (i.e. Rosh Chodesh Tishrei) is the "beginning" of the year in an objective, physical, astronomical sense. In other words, the Abravanel maintains that Rosh ha'Shanah isn't merely the beginning of the year from a "halachic perspective," or even a "Jewish perspective," but from a scientific perspective. According to his understanding, this "onset of the year," which happens at Rosh Chodesh Tishrei, is accompanied by actual physical effects, due to the earth's alignment with the "celestial forces" (read: laws of nature) and these physical causes affect the inhabitants of earth.
   
   To the best of my knowledge, there is no corollary in modern science for this concept of an "objective beginning" to astronomical cycles. Although this would seem to deal an early deathblow to the Abravanel's theory, I believe that we can salvage his view in spite of the fact that one of its major premises is false. I have decided to address this point in an addendum, which should be read after familiarizing yourself with the Abravanel's full theory. 
   
   
2. Premise #2: The beginning stage of any phenomenon indicates and determines all future occurrences associated with that phenomenon. This premise is based on a highly deterministic view of nature which still holds true today - at least, for all practical, everyday purposes (i.e. ignoring quantum). 
   
   
   I will illustrate this view with a mashal. Imagine an elaborate Rube Goldberg machine. If you have complete knowledge of how every part of the machine is initially set up, then you will be able to predict exactly what will happen when the chain-reaction is set in motion. The same is true for more complex reactions. For example, if you were to fill a room with mouse traps set with ping pong balls, and if you had a supercomputer that could measure the exact weight, position, and subtle variations among all the mouse traps and ping pong balls, then you would be able to determine exactly where each ping pong ball would end up once the chain reaction was set off. The only difference between the determinability of the Rube Goldberg outcome and that of the ping pong balls is in their relative quantitative complexity; from an objective standpoint, the outcome is determinable in both cases, even though the latter is too complex for us to be able to figure out.
   
   What is true of the Rube Goldberg device and the ping pong scenario is true of every physical thing: if you know the initial circumstances of something, and you know the laws which govern that thing, then you will be able to predict, from the outset, everything that will happen in the future.
   
   
3. Premise #3: The circumstances at the beginning of the year indicate and determine all future occurrences of that year - globally, regionally, and individualistically. In other words, the Abravanel views the entire terrestrial realm - with its multitude of complex systems and their countless moving parts - as one big Rube Goldberg device. If you were to take a snapshot at how things are at the onset of the year, on Rosh Chodesh Tishrei, that snapshot would indicate everything that will happen throughout the course of that year. Thus, Rosh Chodesh Tishrei is not only a Rosh ha'Shanah calendrically, but deterministically as well.

Got it? Even if you object to what the Abravanel is saying, or you don't buy my attempt to reframe the Abravanel's explanation in a manner that is palatable to the modern mind, then at least try to suspend your disbelief for long enough to hear his full explanation of the Yom ha'Din. This is where things get interesting:

Since Rosh Chodesh Tishrei is the [true] beginning of the year, which actually indicates and determines all of the occurrences of the [upcoming year], for this reason it is called Yom ha'Din and [Yom] ha'Mishpat, for it indicates what will be, and [indicates] the decree that is decreed from heaven for all occurrences of that year, good and bad - for the world as a whole, and for each and every country and people, and for each and every person. 

For this reason they established in the tefilah of the Yom Teruah these three types of mishpat (judgment). Regarding the mishpat of the world as a whole they established to say [in the berachah of Zichronos]: "You remember the deeds done in the universe and You recall all the creatures fashioned since the early times, etc." Regarding the mishpat of every country they established: "Regarding countries, it is said on this day which is destined for the sword and which for peace, which for hunger and which for abundance." Regarding the particular mishpat of every individual they established to say: "and creatures are recalled on it to remember them for life or death. Who is not recalled on this day? [For when the remembrance of everything fashioned comes before You: everyone's deed and appointment, the accomplishments of man's activity,] man's thoughts and schemes, and the motives behind man's deeds."

In other words, according to the Abravanel, the din on Rosh ha'Shanah is an entirely naturalistic phenomenon, having nothing to do with hashgachah pratis (individual providence). The terms "din" and "mishpat" of Rosh ha'Shanah refer to the natural outcomes which are determined by the laws of nature at the beginning of the new year. The "decrees" which are pronounced on Rosh ha'Shanah refer to the causes which are in place at the onset of the new year, and which are deterministically responsible for all effects and occurrences which happen that year.

Lest you suspect that I am reading some sort of Maimonidean view of hashgachah into the Abravanel's framework, the Abravanel goes on to state this point in the most explicit terms possible:

This din [of Rosh ha'Shanah] is NOT in accordance with the hashgachah pratis which comes specially from Him (blessed is He) to His loved ones and those who keep His commandments; rather, it is in accordance with hashgachah klalis (general providence) that is ordered by the celestial causes which relates to all creations in general manner.

Regarding this din and mishpat [Chazal] say in the mishnah: "all inhabitants of the world pass before Him like sheep, as it is stated, 'He fashions their hearts together'" (Rosh ha'Shanah 8a). In order to explain that this din is not in accordance with the hashgachah which relates to the entire nation [of Israel], the perfected one - R' Yochanan - said about this statement: "and all of them are examined [by God] in one glance." By "in one glance" he was referring to that celestial circumstance at the onset of Tishrei which determines all of the affairs of the inhabitants of the world ... This is the din of Rosh ha'Shanah, which pertains to every member of the human race. It is a natural phenomenon (davar tiv'i) in existence, in accordance with the effects of the celestial world on the terrestrial world.

There you have it: the din of Rosh ha'Shanah refers to the innumerable chains of cause-and-effect that are in place on Rosh Chodesh Tishrei and unfold throughout the year, and which determine all of the events that happen in the physical world. 

Now, you might be wondering, "If that's the din of Rosh ha'Shanah, what about the weighing of our zechuyos (merits) and avonos (iniquities), which Chazal discuss throughout their writings? What about the whole business of being inscribed in the Book of Life or the Book of Death? What about doing tefilah, teshuvah, and tzedakah to tear up the bad decree? If everything is set and determined from Rosh Chodesh Tishrei, then what are we doing during the Aseres Ymei Teshuvah (the Ten Days of Repentance)?" 

This brings us to the second part of this blog post ...

Rosh ha'Shanah as Yom Teruah

The Abravanel continues:

However, there is an additional dimension to this day, which is unique to the Jewish nation alone ... [In the case of the other nations and terrestrial entities,] everything which is determined by the celestial causes will necessarily come to be - no more and no less. But with the Jewish nation, this is not the case. Even though the celestial bodies create a potentiality and a predisposition for certain occurrences to befall them, these potentialities are not brought into actuality via the celestial causes ... but directly by Hashem (blessed is He), the Cause of causes ... The affairs and occurrences [of the Jewish people], both the good and the bad, are brought about jointly with hashgachah pratis, which negates the celestial causes on many occasions.

When the Jews do God's will, the celestial causes which indicate that harm [would befall them] are either completely negated by His hashgachah, or are transferred from one subject to another, as it is stated, "all of the bad maladies of Egypt that you know - He will not put them upon you, but will put them upon all your foes" (Devarim 7:15). But when the Jewish people are bad and sin, then even though the celestial causes may indicate that good [will befall them], they will not merit it, for He will negate it.

In other words, Klal Yisrael (the Jewish nation) is not exclusively under the governance of the natural law. Even though the din is set on Rosh ha'Shanah for the entire world - insofar as all natural chains of cause-and-effect are set into motion on that day - the fate of Klal Yisrael is not determined exclusively by that din. To the extent that we align ourselves with God's will, we will be saved via hashgachah pratis from the fate that would have naturally befallen us in accordance with hashgachah klalis. Conversely, even if we are predisposed to receive certain goods in accordance with hashgachah klalis, this good can be negated via hashgachah pratis if we fail to live in accordance with His will. 

And this is where shofar and the Yom Tov of Rosh ha'Shanah comes into the picture:

Since Rosh Chodesh Tishrei is the rosh ha'shanah, and the Yom ha'Din for the entire world - in which the celestial circumstances dictate everything that will happen for the entire year - for this reason, since Hashem desired to make Yisrael meritorious, He revealed to them that this is the day on which everything is determined, and on which the creatures are remembered for life or for death, and He commanded them to stand up for their lives and strive to save themselves and to escape from these celestial decrees, and that the only way to do this is to go out to greet God and to supplicate before Him and to cling to Him to ask Him not to abandon us to these celestial forces, but to take shelter in the concealment of His wings, since they are "the flock He pastures" (Tehilim 95:7) and "the measure of His inheritance" (Devarim 32:9).

This is the character of the mitzvah of yom teruah, He commanded us to sound tekiah and teruah on the shofar, which points to the idea of release and freedom - as if to say that [Bnei Yisrael] are free from the indications of the celestial causes, and in this sense He is our God, and there is none other, for He taught this to us as a reliable remedy to escape from the calamities which come about from the [celestial] arrangements. Therefore, He said, "It shall be a yom teruah for you" - in other words, this is a special chesed which He did for His nation; or [it means to say] that in spite of the fact that the din of Rosh ha'Shanah encompasses all human beings, nevertheless, the remedy of shofar and teshuvah which saves us from this celestial decree was uniquely given to Yisrael, as it is stated, "He relates His words to Yaakov, His statutes and His judgments to Yisrael. He did not do so for any other nation; such judgments - they know them not, halleluyah!" (Tehilim 147:19-20).

According to the Abravanel, Hashem - in His abundant kindness and mercy - revealed to His nation the nature of Rosh Chodesh Tishrei and gave Israel the tool of teruah b'shofar. The shofar, which signifies freedom and release (see Vayikra 25:8-10), is sounded on Rosh ha'Shanah to remind us that even though the fate of the world and its inhabitants may be determined by the celestial forces which are set into motion on the Yom ha'Din, we - the members of Klal Yisrael - can rise above these forces and forge our own destiny, by the decisions we make with our free will. By doing teshuvah and aligning ourselves with God's will, we can be saved from our predetermined natural fate through hashgachah pratis and avoid the harm that was set to befall us. By making the Rosh Chodesh Tishrei into a Yom Tov with mitzvos centered around the most fundamental ideas, Hashem has provided us with the best possible chances of circumventing the harm of the natural decrees. 

That is where the weighing of our zechuyos and avonos comes into the picture, as well as the Books of Life and Death, the Aseres Ymei Teshuvah, and all of the other Yomim Noraim elements which are expanded upon in Torah she'baal Peh. All of these things pertain not to the Yom ha'Din itself - which is entirely naturalistic - but to the hashgachic aids which Hashem gave us to escape from the harm that would befall us from that universal, naturalistic din. 

A Speculative Answer to Our Original Question

Before I encountered the Abravanel's explanation, I conceived of the Yom ha'Din and the weighing of zechuyos and avonos as the same thing. I was under the impression that Rosh ha'Shanah was a day of judgment, and that this judgment was a hashgachah pratis phenomenon which resulted in a "good" or a "bad" din depending on our zechuyos and avonos, as mitigated by our teshuvah, tefilah, and tzedakah during the Aseres Ymei Teshuvah. 

According to the Abravanel (or, at least, my understanding of the Abravanel), this picture is not accurate. According to him, there are two separate phenomena: on the one hand, there is the Yom ha'Din, which is a natural event that determines the course of natural cause-and-effect for the duration of the year; on the other hand, there is the Yom Tov of Rosh ha'Shanah, which was commanded by Hashem to provide us with an opportunity to rise above the aforementioned din (with the help of hashgachah pratis), thereby reshaping our own destiny. 

This, I believe, is why the Written Torah says nothing about the Yom ha'Din aspect of Rosh ha'Shanah. The Yom ha'Din is a reality, and although it is necessary to understand that reality - hence its inclusion in the Oral Torah - it is merely an astronomical phenomenon that happens, which is not directly tied to our observance of Torah and mitzvos. In contrast, what is tied to our observance of mitzvos is the Yom Teruah aspect of Rosh ha'Shanah - the means by which we can improve our ways, and the quality of life we experience. That is something worth mentioning. 

Perhaps a mashal will help. If you were to write a manual on How to Survive a Hurricane, you would not need to include a detailed meteorological explanation of how hurricanes form, how many types or hurricanes there are, what the natural conditions must be, etc. Why not? Because this is a practical handbook on How to Survive a Hurricane. The very premise of the book is that hurricanes can and will happen, and from a practical survival standpoint, it is irrelevant how, why, or even when hurricanes come about. These topics would only be touched upon insofar as they have a practical dimension, and can aid the reader in achieving the goal promised by the manual. The main focus of the manual would be the strategies and techniques which must be learned and implemented in order to survive. The meteorological background knowledge can be left for the students of science. In fact, when the hurricane sirens go off, and people find themselves needing to consult the manual, the inclusion of the meteorological information would distract the reader from focusing on the practical task at hand.  

The same is true here. The Yom ha'Din is something we have no control over, and will happen every year on Rosh Chodesh Tishrei, no matter what. If you want to understand the Yom ha'Din, consult your rebbi who teaches you the Oral Torah. The focus of the Written Torah is on what we can do to "survive" the Yom ha'Din, and all of that knowledge resides in the Yom Teruah aspect of the day, which is the only characteristic of the day that the Torah does mention. If the Written Torah explicitly raised the topic of the Yom ha'Din, that would pose a distraction from the practical task at hand. The mitzvah of the day demands that we involve ourselves in getting the most we can out of our teruah - not involving ourselves in the metaphysical or scientific study of the Yom ha'Din. That latter topic is certainly an important one, but is something that warrants its own investigation, separate from the objectives of the day itself. 

Concluding Thoughts

In my opinion, any insight into Torah which helps us develop from an immature view to a more mature understanding is worthy of celebration and gratitude to the Chonein l'adam daas. I am still working through this Abravanel and all of its implications, but already I feel that his view has enabled me to "level up" my understanding of the Yom ha'Din and its relationship to the Yom Teruah. 

I plan on spending this Rosh ha'Shanah thinking more into these ideas and furthering my understanding of the Abravanel, by myself and with my chavrusas (and rabbeim). For the time being, I hope this blog post has led you to new insights as well, which will result in "leveling up" from wherever you are currently holding.

May the insights we gain on this Rosh ha'Shanah indicate and determine the insights we will have in the year to come, God-willing. Shanah Tovah, and may you be inscribed in the Book of Life - whatever that means! 

Addendum: Resolving the Difficulty with the Abravanel's First Premise

Now, you might be wondering about the question we raised earlier when discussing the Abravanel's first premise: "How does this idea of a deterministic 'objective beginning of the yearly cycle' still valid in light of our current scientific model, in which is no 'objective beginning' of the year which occurs in Tishrei?" 

I don't know what the Abravanel would say, but I can tell you what I think. Whereas the Abravanel believed that a new "wave" of natural cause-and-effect is set into motion every Rosh Chodesh Tishrei, we maintain that this happened only once: during the Six Days of creation. We are still "riding that wave" of natural cause-and-effect, from the Big Bang until now. 

On Rosh ha'Shanah we reflect on the creation of the world (or the creation of man, if you prefer). We say, "Today is the birth[day] of the world. Today all creatures of the world stand in judgment." Perhaps we can modify the Abravanel's explanation like this: Rosh Chodesh Tishrei may not be a day on which new natural causes are set in motion, but it is certainly a day when we reflect on Maaseh Bereishis, which is when all natural causes were initially set in motion. 

With this small modification, the rest of the Abravanel's model of Yom ha'Din and Yom Teruah are rendered viable - the only difference being that the annual Rosh ha'Shanah in Tishrei is no longer an objective, physical, astronomical "starting point," but merely a halachically mandated time to reflect on the true "starting point." From a hashgachah pratis standpoint, nothing changes: we can still assume that there is some weighing of zechuyos and avonos which takes place on Rosh ha'Shanah, and that the effects of this weighing can save us from the din which was decreed from the true starting point of Maaseh Bereishis, for which our Rosh ha'Shanah is an annual reminder.

Of course, if we discover that there is a problem with positing that Rosh ha'Shanah does not correspond to an objective hashgachah klalis phenomenon in the physical universe, then we'll have to find some other solution. As of now, I don't see any way that the Abravanel's premise - as he understood it - can be accepted as true. Please feel free to try and change my mind.

Enjoy Yourself This Rosh ha'Shanah (an Aruch ha'Shulchan PSA)

Originally posted in September 2013. Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Enjoy Yourself on Rosh ha'Shanah (an Aruch ha'Shulchan PSA)

It seems to me that there are many Jews who relate to Rosh ha'Shanah as a day of utter solemnity and gravity to the point where they forget that it's a Yom Tov with a mitzvah of simchah (rejoicing). The following is a translation of the Aruch ha'Shulchan, Orach Chayim 597:2, which addresses that mentality:

The Beis Yosef wrote: "[On Rosh ha'Shanah] we should eat, drink, and rejoice; and we shouldn't fast, neither on Rosh ha'Shanah nor on Shabbos Shuvah. However, we shouldn't eat to the point of complete satiation, nor should we behave frivolously; the fear of Hashem should be on our faces" (Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim 597:1). 

The Maharshal wouldn't eat fish on Rosh ha'Shanah because he really liked them, but he wanted to diminish his physical desires in a specific way. They also don't wear chashuv clothing on Rosh ha'Shanah like they do on every other Yom Tov; instead, they wear white (Bach and Magen Avraham). 

We, on the other hand, are not accustomed to wear white on Rosh ha'Shanah, but only on Yom ha'Kippurim. Furthermore, we eat and drink [on Rosh ha'Shanah] just like on every other Yom Tov, as it is written: "He said to them [on Rosh ha'Shanah], 'Go, eat rich foods and drink sweet beverages, and send portions to those who have nothing prepared, for today is sacred to our Lord. Do not be sad; the enjoyment of Hashem is your strength!'" (Nechemiah 8:10). 

Only in one regard is Rosh ha'Shanah different from other Yomim Tovim: we extend our tefilah until after midday. 

Also, there are those who are accustomed not to sleep on the first day of Rosh ha'Shanah, based on a Yerushalmi which says, "One who sleeps on Rosh ha'Shanah - his mazal will sleep." We don't know where this Yerushalmi is. The Arizal wasn't worried about this and said that after the shofar blasts and after midday, the judgments have already been settled.

The Aruch ha'Shulchan acknowledges the opinions of Rav Yosef Karo and the Maharshal, who maintain that our rejoicing on Rosh ha'Shanah ought to be tempered or diminished. He also acknowledges the Bach and Magen Avraham who advocate the custom of donning somber white garments on Rosh ha'Shanah, just like on Yom ha'Kippurim.

All of these opinions he rejects, citing only one source: a pasuk from Nechemiah. This pasuk serves as a beautiful reminder of a commonly overlooked aspect of Rosh ha'Shanah, namely, the fact that it is a happy day. It is easy to get so caught up in fear, shame, and guilt that we end up neglecting the mitzvah of simchas Yom Tov which applies to Rosh ha'Shanah, just like it does to every other Yom Tov. True, we are being judged and that is a cause for fear and seriousness, but not to the point where we lose sight of the nature of the day, and certainly not to the point where we neglect such an important mitzvah as simchas Yom Tov!

David ha'Melech wrote: "Serve Hashem with fear, and rejoice in trembling" (Tehilim 2:11). On the surface, it would seem that fear and trembling are antithetical to rejoicing - and yet, we are expected to experience both emotions in our avodas Hashem. One of the main reasons why we find this to be so difficult is because the yetzer ha'ra, by nature, is drawn to extremes. A person who is overcome by his or her yetzer ha'ra will either spend the entire day cowering in fear, or frolic the day away in carefree indulgence without any eimas ha'din (fear of judgment). How are we to fulfill the ideal expressed in David ha'Melech's words?

The answer can be found in the Zichronos berachah in the Mussaf of Rosh ha'Shanah, in which we say: "Let there appear before You the Akeidah when Avraham, our father, bound Yitzchak, his son, upon the altar and conquered his mercy to do Your will wholeheartedly." Avraham Avinu didn't conquer his mercy through repression, denial, or sheer willpower. He was a navi, and like every navi, "his inclination does not overpower him in any worldly matter; rather, he continually overpowers his emotions with his mind" (Hilchos Yesodei ha'Torah 7:1). In other words, Avraham Avinu didn't suppress his feelings by pitting one emotion against another. Rather, his chochmah enabled him to rise above his emotions to the point where they yielded and responded to the influence of his intellect. That is how he "conquered" his mercy: by through knowledge and comprehension.

This is the method by which we can achieve the equilibrium of fear and joy described by David ha'Melech. If we succeed in recognizing and understanding both aspects of the day of Rosh ha'Shanah - as a Yom Tov of joy and a Yom ha'Din of trembling - our emotions will respond accordingly, and will find the proper balance on their own.

Having said that, I wish you all a joyously awesome day of Rosh ha'Shanah! Go, eat rich foods and drink sweet beverages, and send portions to those who have nothing prepared, for today is sacred to our Lord. Do not be sad; the enjoyment of Hashem is your strength!

Parashas Ki Teitzei: Ramban - On Cruelty to Animals

Originally posted in August 2013, but fixed in response to Rabbi Maroof's critique.

Artwork: Reveillark, by Jim Murray

Parashas Ki Teitzei: Ramban - On Cruelty to Animals

This week’s parashah features one of the most beloved mitzvos among animal enthusiasts: shiluach ha’ken (sending away the mother bird before taking her eggs). The Torah states:

If a bird’s nest happens to be before you on the road, on any tree, or on the ground – young birds or eggs – and the mother is roosting on the young birds or on the eggs, you shall not take the mother with the young. You shall swiftly send away the mother and take the young for yourself, so that it will be good for you and will prolong your days. [1]

Contrary to popular belief, the mitzvah is not to go out of your way to find a mother bird just so that you can shoo her away and take her eggs. Rather, the mitzvah is that if you happen to find a mother bird and if you want the eggs, you are commanded to send the mother bird away before you take her eggs. [2]

All of the mitzvos have reasons. One might think that the reason Hashem commanded this mitzvah is in order to show mercy on the mother bird by sparing her the pain of seeing her young be taken away against her will. Sounds reasonable, right?

Wrong! This notion is so wrong, in fact, that Chazal instituted a halacha which is tailor-made to uproot it. The halacha states that if we ever come across a person leading the congregation in prayer who exclaims, “Have compassion on us, since You are the Compassionate One, for Your mercies reach [even] to a bird’s nest!” – we are instructed to silence him, thereby preventing his false view from spreading. [3]

The question is: Doesn’t this halacha seem a bit extreme? I mean, is it really so bad to view shiluach ha'ken as an expression of Hashem's mercy on the mother bird? After all, there are a number of mitzvos in addition to shiluach ha’ken which seem to have been commanded in order to show mercy towards animals. For example, this week’s parashah mentions the prohibition to muzzle an ox and a donkey together. [4] It is also prohibited to slaughter an animal and its offspring on the same day. [5] There are numerous prohibitions which Chazal instituted to prevent tzaar l’baalei chayim (causing animals to suffer). Moreover, there are numerous pesukim which speak of Hashem's mercy on animals, such as: “Hashem is good to all; His mercies are on all of His works,” [6] which Chazal interpret to mean that Hashem has mercy even on the lowliest of animals. [7] Considering all of this, what’s so bad about viewing shiluach ha’ken as an expression of Hashem’s mercy towards animals?

To answer this question, let us turn to the Ramban's explanation of shiluach ha'ken. The Ramban [8] explains the purpose of this mitzvah in no uncertain terms:

The reason for the prohibition [against animal cruelty] is to teach us the trait of mercy and that we should not become cruel, for cruelty spreads through the soul of man [expanding from cruelty towards animals to cruelty towards humans]. It is well-known that butchers who slaughter large oxen and deer are bloody men, "murderers of people (so to speak)" and are very cruel. And it is because of this that the Sages said: "The best of butchers is a partner of Amalek." [9] To sum it up: these commandments that deal with animals and birds are not expressions of compassion for the animals; rather, they are decrees for us, to guide us and to teach us good character traits.

The Ramban cites the Rambam [10] who extends this explanation to the other mitzvos which govern our treatment of animals. He expounds in detail upon the two mitzvos in our parashah: 

It is also prohibited to kill an animal with its young on the same day, in order that people should be restrained and prevented from killing the two together in such a manner that the young is slain in the sight of the mother; for the pain of the animals under such circumstances is very great. There is no difference in this case between the pain of a human being and the pain of other living beings, since the love and tenderness of the mother for her young ones is not produced by rationality, but by imagination, and this faculty exists not only in man but in most living beings. This law applies only to an ox and a lamb because out of all the domestic animals used as food, these alone are permitted to us, and in these cases the mother recognizes her young. 

The same reason applies to the law which commands us to shoo away the mother bird when we take the young. The eggs over which the bird sits and the young that are in need of their mother are generally unfit for food, and when the mother is sent away she does not see the taking of her young ones, and does not feel any pain. In most cases, however, this mitzvah will cause man to leave the whole nest untouched, because the young or the eggs which he is allowed to take are, generally speaking, unfit for food. If the Torah takes measures to prevent us from causing such grief to cattle or birds, how much more careful must we be that we should not cause grief to our fellow men! 

On the basis of the Ramban's explanation (and in the spirit of the Rambam cited above), we can now understand why it is such a severe mistake to characterize these mitzvos as expressions of Hashem’s mercy towards animals. It is true that Hashem acts with mercy towards all of His creatures. However, mitzvos were given as a means of perfecting human beings, morally and intellectually. If a person were to think that these mitzvos were designed for the benefit of animals, he is likely to miss out on the perfection that the mitzvos have to offer us. Thus, by halachically silencing the individual who publicly expresses this distorted notion of these mitzvos, Chazal are protecting the real reason for these mitzvos, which is to instill within us the qualities of mercy and compassion, and to remove cruelty from our midst. 

[1] Sefer Devarim 22:6-7
[2] According to the Rambam, the Torah only prohibits taking the mother together with the eggs or the young. According to Rashi, the only prohibition is to take the mother away from the eggs or the young – not vice versa. 
[3] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah, Sefer Ahava: Hilchos Tefilah 9:7
[4] Sefer Devarim 22:10
[5] Sefer Vayikra 22:28
[6] Sefer Tehilim 145:9
[7] Talmud Bavli: Bava Betzia 85a 

[8] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Devarim 22:6
[9] Maseches Kiddushin 82a 

[10] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Guide for the Perplexed 3:48

Why I Like Teaching the Basics

Artwork: Halimar Gem, by John Avon

Why I Like Teaching the Basics

I teach a wide variety of different limudei kodesh classes, grades 9-12th, honors and non-honors, and everything in between. I am often asked, "How can you possibly enjoy teaching the weaker classes?" or "Don't you get bored teaching the same material over and over again?" 

I was recently rereading "Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman!" for the umpteenth time when I came across a passage in which Feynman responds to a similar question. Parts of his answer overlap with my own, so let's start there. Note the parts that I've underlined.

I don't believe I can really do without teaching. The reason is, I have to have something so that when I don't have any ideas and I'm not getting anywhere I can say to myself, "At least I'm living; at least I'm doing something; I'm making some contribution"-- it's just psychological.  

When I was at Princeton in the 1940s I could see what happened to those great minds at the Institute for Advanced Study, who had been specially selected for their tremendous brains and were now given this opportunity to sit in this lovely house by the woods there, with no classes to teach, with no obligations whatsoever. These poor bastards could now sit and think clearly all by themselves, OK? So they don't get any ideas for a while: They have every opportunity to do something, and they're not getting any ideas. I believe that in a situation like this a kind of guilt or depression worms inside of you, and you begin to worry about not getting any ideas. And nothing happens. Still no ideas come.  

Nothing happens because there's not enough real activity and challenge: You're not in contact with the experimental guys. You don't have to think how to answer questions from the students. Nothing!  

In any thinking process there are moments when everything is going good and you've got wonderful ideas. Teaching is an interruption, and so it's the greatest pain in the neck in the world. And then there are the longer periods of time when not much is coming to you. You're not getting any ideas, and if you're doing nothing at all, it drives you nuts! You can't even say "I'm teaching my class."  

If you're teaching a class, you can think about the elementary things that you know very well. These things are kind of fun and delightful. It doesn't do any harm to think them over again. Is there a better way to present them? Are there any new problems associated with them? Are there any new thoughts you can make about them? The elementary things are easy to think about; if you can't think of a new thought, no harm done; what you thought about it before is good enough for the class. If you do think of something new, you're rather pleased that you have a new way of looking at it.  

The questions of the students are often the source of new research. They often ask profound questions that I've thought about at times and then given up on, so to speak, for a while. It wouldn't do me any harm to think about them again and see if I can go any further now. The students may not be able to see the thing I want to answer, or the subtleties I want to think about, but they remind me of a problem by asking questions in the neighborhood of that problem. It's not so easy to remind yourself of these things.  

So I find that teaching and the students keep life going, and I would never accept any position in which somebody has invented a happy situation for me where I don't have to teach. Never.

Feynman made three points which resonate with me:

1. Teaching the basics is quite a challenge! I suspect that most of my yeshiva-educated friends don't realize how many premises they take for granted, nor do they appreciate what it takes to teach these premises to students whose Torah knowledge is so severely lacking. I enjoy this challenge, much like solving a puzzle. I have to figure out where the student is coming from, what he or she needs to know, and how - to borrow Adler's words - to help the student to pass from a state of ignorance to a state of knowledge through a deliberate process of aided discovery. This type of teaching activity isn't for everyone, but - as Feynman would say - I personally "get a kick out of it."
   
   (I'll add that part of the challenge is being aware of the high stakes. As a teacher confronted with a student who has a gap in his or her knowledge, I know that if I don't step up to the challenge and fill that gap with knowledge, there is a chance that the opportunity will pass by, and the student will remain ignorant of that point - or worse, that the student will fill that gap with falsehood and distortions. This realization keeps me going when I might have otherwise given up.)
   
2. Thinking about the basics is fun and delightful! Similarly, some people might find it boring, tedious, or useless to return to the basics time and time again, but I love it! I find that the yesodei ha'Torah (and I mean that in the broadest sense of the term) are the most enjoyable parts of Torah, and that joy is unlimited. To me, it's like listening to my favorite songs again and again. I might get tired of listening to some of them for a period of time, but there are plenty more to listen to while I take a break from the others, until I start craving the former ones once again.
   
3. Students' questions lead to new insights! You'd be surprised at how often a student will ask a new question about something which I think I understand, only to realize that the student's question opens a new vista for me. Even when they ask "old questions," they often do so in subtly new ways, and thinking about the elementary points from these new angles increases my clarity and often leads to new insight. And, like Feynman said, sometimes a student will ask his or her own question, prompting me to do some serious thinking "in that neighborhood," and ultimately leading me to discover my own questions, which lead to new discoveries, or old re-discoveries. 

In my case, there is an additional reason for why I enjoy teaching the basics. Every teacher has his or her own set of strengths, weaknesses, and passions, all of which contribute to his or her unique "calling" and personal teaching style. The more I teach, the more I have come to realize that my true calling lies in teaching the basics. That is where my talents and my passions coincide. Some people  (e.g. Richard Feynman) are cut out to be geniuses, or leaders, or pioneers. Others have a unique gift when it comes to doing outreach, or educating young children, or those with special needs. My own élan vital (or "Nindō," if you prefer) is to teach yesodei ha'Torah. If Torah is a giant building, I view myself as a custodian or groundskeeper. My job is to maintain the foundations of that building and clean up the messes that people leave behind. 

Where did my predilection for the basics come from? Who knows! But I will point out that my rebbi - my Mishlei/life rebbi - also has the same predilection, and I might just be taking after him. "Like metaphysical father, like metaphysical son," as they say. As a matter of fact, as I was writing this blog post, I got a call from him because he wanted to tell me about two new techniques he's implementing this year in going over basics with his students. I told him that I was writing about that very topic, and we both gushed over how exciting it is to try out new ways to teach the same old fundamentals. 

Anyway, I've just been thinking about this topic lately, now that the new school year is just around the corner, and seeing the Feynman post made me want to write something about it. I hope this was interesting to more people than just me!

Why was Sefer Yonah Included in Tanach? (Part 2 of 2)

Artwork: Colossal Whale, by Adam Paquette

Why was Sefer Yonah Included in Tanach (Part 2 of 2)

Review

In yesterday's post we took up the Radak's question: Why was Yonah's prophecy recorded and included in Kisvei ha'Kodesh if wasn't for the Jews or about the Jews? 

The first of Radak's three answers is that Yonah's prophecy was recorded in order to inspire us to do teshuvah like the citizens of Ninveh. The Abravanel objected to this answer on two grounds: (1) If we aren't motivated to do teshuvah by the neviim who have been sent to our own nation, how are we going to be inspired by the account of a navi who was sent to another nation? (2) Ninveh's teshuvah was incomplete, in that they still clung to their avodah zarah; what kind of teshuvah role model is that supposed to be for Bnei Yisrael? 

We attempted to defend the Radak's explanation by pointing out how incredible it was that the Nazi-like people of Ninveh did complete teshuvah from their violent ways. While the Abravanel is correct in pointing that we typically aren't motivated by our own neviim, the teshuvah of Ninveh seems to be in a category of its own - one which would certainly seem to be inspirational in a different way than our own neviim. The Abravanel suggested his own answer: Sefer Yonah was included in Kisvei ha'Kodesh to teach us about Yonah - not about Ninveh. 

Although we weren't able to define the machlokes, we suggested that the Radak and Abravanel probably weren't arguing over the inspiration-value of Ninveh's teshuvah, but on whether such an account would be sufficient to include Yonah's nevuah in Kisvei ha'Kodesh. We left this as a tzarich iyun. Check out the comments for at least one good approach.

Answer #2: The Miracle of the Fish

The Radak offers a second explanation for why Sefer Yonah was included in Kisvei ha'Kodesh:

Furthermore, [Sefer Yonah was written] in order to make known the great miracle that God (blessed is He) did with the navi, namely, [that He enabled] him to be in the bowels of the fish for three days and three nights and live; furthermore, that He caused the fish to vomit him up.

The miracle of the fish is certainly the most well-known feature of the story. Say the name "Jonah" and most people will automatically associate to the phrase "and the whale." As far as miracles go, this was certainly an impressive one. A human being was sustained for three days and three nights in the belly of a fish, and survived even after being vomited out. 

Still, some might find this answer to be difficult to swallow. Although the Ralbag (Shemos 1:7) maintains that the derech ha'Torah is to publicize all miracles, since miracles serve as a proof of God's Existence and His role in guiding mankind, is this really enough to warrant including the entirety of Sefer Yonah in Kisvei ha'Kodesh? After all, the miracle of the fish only takes up one out of the four chapters in the sefer. 

My guess is that when the Radak introduced this answer with the word, "Furthermore ..." he did not mean to imply that the miracle of the fish would, in and of itself, be sufficient to include Sefer Yonah in Kisvei ha'Kodesh; rather, the miracle of the fish is another reason why Yonah's prophecy rises to the level of being a "Scripture-worthy" prophecy. In other words, the miracle that happened to Yonah might have been an important factor in the Anshei Kneset ha'Gedolah's decision to include Sefer Yonah. 

Answer #3: God Accepts Baalei Teshuvah

The third and final explanation offered by the Radak is my personal favorite: 

Furthermore, [Sefer Yonah was written] to teach that God (blessed is He) is compassionate to those who do teshuvah, no matter what nation they are from, and that He forgives them - especially if they are many.

There are several lessons to be gained from this explanation. First is the point which is explicitly highlighted by the Radak, namely, that God accepts all baalei teshuvah - no matter who they are, and no matter where they are from - and that He is abundant in mercy, compassion, and forgiveness. This theme is treated at length by the Rambam in Hilchos Teshuvah 7:6-7:

Teshuvah is great for it draws a man close to the shechinah, as it is stated: "Return, O Yisrael, to Hashem, your God" (Hoshea 14:2), and it is stated: "'Return to Me,' says Hashem" (Amos 4:6), and it is stated: "'If, you will return, O Yisrael,' says Hashem, 'You will return to Me'" (Yirmiyahu 4:1). In other words, if you will return in teshuvah, you will cling to Me. 

Teshuvah brings near those who were far removed [from Hashem]. Previously, this person was hated by God, disgusting, far removed, and abominable. Now, he is beloved and desirable, close, and dear … 

How exalted is the level of teshuvah! Previously, the [transgressor] was separate from God, the Lord of Israel, as it is stated: "Your sins separate between you and your God" (Yeshayahu 59:2). He would call out [to God] without being answered as it is stated: "Even if you pray many times, I will not hear" (Yeshayahu 1:15). He would fulfill mitzvot, only to have them crushed before him as states: "Who asked this from you, to trample in My courts?" (ibid. 1:12), and it is stated: "If only there were someone among you who would shut the [Temple] doors, so that you could not kindle upon My altar in vain!” (Malachi 1:10), and it is stated: "Add your burnt-offerings to your peace-offerings and eat [their] meat!" (Yirmiyahu 7:21).

But now he is clinging to the shechinah, as it is stated: "And you who cling to Hashem, your God" (Devarim 4:4). He calls out [to God] and is answered immediately as states: "Before you will call out, I will answer" (Yeshayahu 65:24). He fulfills mitzvot and they are accepted with pleasure and joy as it is stated, "God has already accepted your deeds" (Koheles 9:7), and it is stated: "Then, shall the offering of Yehudah and Yerushalayim be pleasing to God as in days of old and as in the former years" (Malachi 3:4).

This is a significant point on multiple levels. Philosophically, it is important to know that a person can completely and instantaneously change his metaphysical standing before God (whatever that means) from one extreme to the other. Psychologically, it is important for the transgressor to know that complete redemption is possible - otherwise, he might give up hope and feel "doomed" by his sins. It is also important to know how the status of a baal teshuvah is regarded from the vantage-point of Torah and mitzvos (e.g. a baal teshuvah's tefilos are answered, his mitzvos are accepted, etc.). From Ninveh in particular we see that teshuvah is so powerful that it can overturn a decree of destruction, even though the nation had descended to the utmost levels of depravity. 

Rav Hirsch, in his commentary on the haftorah, picks up on the Radak's point, but draws a different lesson from it:

We have pointed out at length elsewhere how characteristic it is of the truly broadminded universality of Judaism that it is idol-worshiping heathens whose amendment is held up to us on this day [of Yom ha'Kippurim] as a model for our own betterment.

I challenge anyone to find one other example of a religion that uses the spotlight of its holiest day to showcase "heathens" (who remained heathens) on account of their good behavior. 

But my favorite lesson to be gleaned from the Radak's third explanation may be summarized as follows: Sefer Yonah illustrates that teshuvah is not essentially a religious phenomenon, but a human phenomenon. I will attempt to illustrate this point by drawing upon my own teaching experience.

One of the biggest obstacles I face when teaching high school students about teshuvah is that they are still locked into an extremely narrow view of what teshuvah is. To many religious teenagers, "teshuvah" entails feeling guilty for speaking lashon ha'ra, klopping an al cheit for that time they ate a candy bar without a hechsher, and texting all of their friends a frantic, "Are you mochel me?" before the Aseres Ymei Teshuvah deadline is up. I have even encountered a number of freshmen who seem to think that teshuvah involves little more than regretting what you did and saying that you're sorry, whether to God or to another person.

According to my understanding, teshuvah is far broader than that. I would say that real teshuvah is a process which involves every single aspect of human development. The Rambam introduces Hilchos Teshuvah by saying "the explanation of this mitzvah, and the fundamental principles which are dragged along with it, because of it, will be explained in the following chapters" - and he is quite serious. His Hilchos Teshuvah begins with "halachic teshuvah," but goes on to describe the darchei teshuvah, how God judges the world, the criteria for entry into olam ha'ba, free will, reward and punishment, berachos and klalos, lishmah and she'lo lishmah, and many more topics. The majority of these topics are pertinent not only to Jews who observe the system of 613 commandments, but to non-Jews as well.  

What better way to illustrate this point than by focusing on a real-world instance of teshuvah which was completely "non-religious" in character, and which didn't involve any Jews? The teshuvah of Ninveh was from the transgressions of chamas (i.e. violence, theft, robbery, battery, etc.), which is bein adam l'chaveiro on the most basic societal level. By pondering their teshuvah from this sin, we will come to recognize that our teshuvah has the same fundamental objective, namely, to help us to live as human beings, which is the purpose of the entire Torah.

Conclusion

In order to fully investigate this question, we would really have to delve into the whole sugya of what makes something worthwhile to include in Kisvei ha'Kodesh. We would have to understand why the neviim that made it in, made it in, and why those who didn't, didn't. 

The purpose of these two blog posts was not to educate ourselves about the halachic criteria for "Scriptural canonization," but to gain insight into the major themes of Sefer Yonah in an attempt to understand what we should expect to gain from learning it. In that regard, I feel that our analysis was a success.