A New Strategy for Tefilah (Prayer)

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Artwork: Call to Mind, by Terese Nielsen

A New Strategy for Tefilah (Prayer)

Flashes of insight can come from the most unexpected of places. A couple of weeks ago I randomly decided to watch a YouTube montage of every movie that has won the Academy Award for "Best Picture" from 1927-2018. The video featured a 5-10 second clip from each movie. 

I wasn't even really watching this video. I just had it on for background noise while I prepared for the upcoming school year. Suddenly, my ears perked up upon hearing what immediately struck me as a profound truth. I paused the video and rewound it so I could listen again with full attention. 

The movie was the 1941 winner of "Best Picture," and was called How Green Was My Valley. I know nothing about the plot of the movie or the broader context of this line, other than the fact that the main character's name is "Huw." Here's the quotation from the movie in its immediate context (thanks to a copy of the script I found online):

“For so God has given you a chance to make spirit within yourself. And as your father cleans his lamp to have good light, so keep clean your spirit, Huw.” 

“How, sir?" 

“By prayer, Huw. And by prayer, I don't mean shouting, mumbling, and wallowing like a hog in religious sentiment. Prayer is only another name for good, clean, direct thinking. When you pray, think. Think well what you're saying. Make your thoughts into things that are solid. In that way, your prayer will have strength, and that strength will become a part of you: body, mind, and spirit.”

When I heard this, I couldn't help but note how closely this idea of prayer resembles Judaism's definition of tefilah (prayer). I wrote about this in a very short post entitled Jewish Prayer (and Jury Duty). Here is the relevant excerpt in which I presented my understanding of what tefilah is:

The English word "pray" comes from the Latin "precari" which (according to Google) means "to ask earnestly" or "to beg." In stark contrast, the root of tefilah (תפילה) is P.L.L. (פ.ל.ל.) which means "to judge" or "to evaluate." When we speak of prayer as a verb, in Judaism we use the reflexive form "le'hitpalel" (להתפלל) which means "to self-judge" or "self-evaluate." [Note: from this point on I will use the Yiddish verb "daven" in reference to tefilah in order to avoid confusing it with the non-Jewish concept of prayer.]

On the surface, it would seem to be a contradiction to say "le'hitpalel to God." How can we use a reflexive verb to describe an action directed to a subject which is not the self (i.e. God)?

The answer to this question cuts to the core of what tefilah is. According to my understanding, is that le'hitpalel means "to judge oneself in God's framework" - that is to say, to evaluate who we are, what we need, and what we have been given, all in the framework of objective reality (i.e. through "the eyes" of God).

Tefilah can be thought of as the ultimate "reality check," in which we attempt to bring our subjective wants in line with our objective needs, and in line with the objective reality of God's will. In assessing our needs and thinking about how to obtain them, we are forced to confront our own limitations - which factors are in our control, and which are not, and how dependent we are on God's righteousness, justice, and mercy. From this position of humble recognition, we ask God to assist us in those areas which are outside of our control.

This last point brings us to another significant difference between tefilah and prayer. We ask for Divine assistance because we believe in the possibility of Divine intervention. However, getting our tefilos answered is not the main reason why we daven. The essential value of davening lies in the personal growth and understanding we gain from the act of self-reflection in the framework of objective reality. 

To be clear: the definition of prayer in How Green Was My Valley is not synonymous with Judaism's definition of tefilah. We certainly do not hold that tefilah "is only another name for good, clean, direct thinking." There is much more to tefilah than that, both in terms of our involvement and God's involvement. Moreover, in the era after the Anshei Knesses ha'Gedolah (Men of the Great Assembly), our activity of "self-reflection/self-judgment in God's framework" is aided by the nusach ha'tefilah - the set text of Jewish liturgy. In other words, the thinking we do in our tefilah is "aided" or "guided" by the text that was established by the Anshei Knesses ha'Gedolah.

Nevertheless, we do maintain that tefilah, at its core, is "good, clean, direct thinking." We acknowledge this at the end of every tefilah by saying: "yihiyu l'ratzon imrei fi v'hegyon libi lefanecha, Hashem, Tzuri v'Goali - May the words of my mouth and the thoughts of my mind find favor before You, Hashem, my Rock and my Redeemer" (Tehilim 19:15) - thereby characterizing tefilah as an activity of articulated thinking before God. 

This is also reflected in the Rambam's psak that although one is obligated to verbally enunciate his tefilah, he nevertheless fulfills his obligation if he didn't verbalize anything, but merely went over the words in his mind. This shows that even from a halachic standpoint, tefilah is essentially a cognitive act - not an act of recitation. 

And yet, how many of us actually relate to the activity of tefilah as an activity of thinking? When we stand up to daven shacharis, minchah, and maariv, do we frame what we are about to do by telling ourselves: "Okay - time for five minutes of good, clean, direct thinking"? Or do we frame tefilah as an activity of "reading from a sidur" or "reciting a text" or "fulfilling an obligation" or some other type of thing? 

Compare our tefilah mentality to our talmud Torah (Torah study) mentality. When we sit down to learn Torah, we definitely frame it as an activity of "good, clean, direct thinking," and we mentally prepare ourselves to engage in concentrated thinking. Our approach to tefilah should feel the same way. Indeed, this is why Chazal classify both tefilah and talmud Torah as "avodah she'ba'lev" (service of the mind), in contrast to "avodah she'ba'guf" (service of the body) - but how many of us really feel that we are doing the same type of thing when davening as we do when learning? 

There is, however, an important distinction between these two acts of avodah she'ba'lev. It is this distinction which is the basis of the "new strategy for tefilah" that I am about to propose. The distinction is expressed in the second half of the quotation from How Green Was My Valley: 

“And by prayer, I don't mean shouting, mumbling, and wallowing like a hog in religious sentiment. Prayer is only another name for good, clean, direct thinking. When you pray, think. Think well what you're saying. Make your thoughts into things that are solid. In that way, your prayer will have strength, and that strength will become a part of you: body, mind, and spirit.”

Although the ultimate goal of talmud Torah is to put into practice what we learn, this isn't part of the act itself. Learning, as an activity, is pure thinking. In contrast, tefilah is a specific method of guided thinking which culminates in self-transformation and self-actualization. Our tefilah is successful insofar as it "makes our thoughts into things that are solid" and "becomes part of ourselves in body, mind, and spirit." 

In this sense, tefilah can be thought of as a form of metaphysically grounded self-guided psychotherapy. And just as psychotherapy cannot be deemed a success unless it produces real change in the way we live, so too, tefilah (textually aided self-reflection/self-judgment in God's framework) cannot be deemed successful unless it leads to a real transformation of the self. The Radak on the phrase "hegyon libi - thoughts of my mind" (Tehilim 19:15) explains that "hegyon" refers specifically to "machshavah," which the Rambam defines as "actionable thought." 

Of course, this requires that we actually understand what we are saying when we daven - not only the words and the ideas, but how to internalize these ideas in an actionable manner. This is no simple feat. It requires a lot of thinking and learning outside of tefilah. 

The prospect of devoting time and effort to learning the meaning of the liturgy might be daunting for some, but if you really want to get the most out of your tefilah, then you've gotta start somewhere. My suggestion is to begin with the English translation. Approach it like you would approach anything else you learn (e.g. Mishlei or Tehilim). Ask questions. Raise problems. Try to think of answers. Focus on getting the main idea rather than getting bogged down in the details. Take it one line or one paragraph at a time. Your goal should be to get to the point at which, when you encounter these words in tefilah, you can think them rather than merely recite them. 

Let us conclude by summarizing this new strategy for tefilah - which, truth be told, is really more of a new perspective on tefilah than a specific method:

"Prayer is only another name for good, clean, direct thinking." Recognize what tefilah is: it is an activity of thinking (i.e. self-reflection/self-judgment in God's framework, guided by the text established by the Anshei Knesses ha'Gedolah). 

"When you pray, think. Think well what you're saying." It's not enough to merely recognize that tefilah is thinking. You actually have to think your tefilah! In order to do this, you will need at least a minimal level of comprehension of the words. To the extent that you understand the ideas behind those words, you will find it more natural to think them when you say them.

"Make your thoughts into things that are solid. In that way, your prayer will have strength, and that strength will become a part of you: body, mind, and spirit." Lastly, remember that tefilah is not theoretical thinking, but practical thinking. Carry through with those thoughts into considering how you will think, feel, and act differently as a result of your tefilah than you previously did. 

I realize that this is easier said than done, but I hope that by saying it, the doing part will become more within reach. 

Parashas Shoftim: The Eleven Nations of America and the Seven Nations of Canaan

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Woodard's map of the 11 Nations of America

Parashas Shoftim: The Eleven Nations of America and the Seven Nations of Canaan

Woodard's Theory of Eleven American Nations

I've been hooked on a book called American Nations: A History of the Eleven Rival Regional Cultures of North America (2011), by Colin Woodard. The author states his thesis in his introduction:

America's most essential and abiding divisions are not between red states and blue states, conservatives and liberals, capital and labor, blacks and whites, the faithful and the secular. Rather, our divisions stem from this fact: the United States is a federation comprised of the whole or part of eleven regional nations, some of which truly do not see eye to eye with one another. These nations respect neither state nor international boundaries, bleeding over the U.S. frontiers with Canada and Mexico as readily as they divide California, Texas, Illinois, or Pennsylvania. Six joined together to liberate themselves from British rule. Four were conquered but not vanquished by English-speaking rivals. Two more were founded in the West by a mix of American frontiersmen in the second half of the nineteenth century. Some are defined by cultural pluralism, others by their French, Spanish, or "Anglo-Saxon" heritage. Few have shown any indication that they are melting into some sort of unified American culture. On the contrary, since 1960 the fault lines between these nations have been growing wider, fueling culture wars, constitutional struggles, and ever more frequent pleas for unity.

Woodard then clarifies what he means by "nation":

I have very consciously used the term nations to describe these regional cultures, for by the time they agreed to share a federated state, each had long exhibited the characteristics of nationhood. Americans - because of this particular historical circumstance - often confuse the terms state and nation, and are the only people in the world who use statehood and nationhood interchangeably. A state is a sovereign political entity like the United Kingdom, Kenya, Panama, or New Zealand, eligible for membership in the United Nations and inclusion on the maps produced by Rand McNally or the National Geographic Society. A nation is a group of people who share - or believe they share - a common culture, ethnic origin, language, historical experience, artifacts, and symbols. Some nations are presently stateless - the Kurdish, Palestinian, or Quebecois nations, for instance. Some control and dominate their own nation-state, which they typically name for themselves, as in France, Germany, Japan, or Turkey. Conversely, there are plenty of states - some of them federated - that aren't dominated by a single nation, like Belgium, Switzerland, Malaysia, Canada and, indeed, the United States. North America's eleven nations are all stateless, though at least two currently aspire to change that, and most of the others have tried to at one time or another.

In order to appreciate the author's thesis on even a basic level (which, I should mention, is essential for understanding this blog post) read or skim this article, which the author recommends as an overview of his theory. At the very least, scroll down through the descriptions of the eleven nations provided there to get a sense of what he means by "nation" and how these nations continue to persist and shape the cultural and political landscape of our country today.

The quality and quantity of evidence the author provides in his book is staggering. I will never view American history or American politics the same way again. Although the particular claims he makes are subject to disagreement, Woodard's paradigm is compelling to the point where I wonder how people can think otherwise.

I'm not even finished with the book yet and it's already having far-reaching implications for my Torah learning. I'd like to share one example from this week's parashah. 

Annihilating the Seven Nations of Canaan

One of the most controversial mitzvos is the commandment to annihilate the seven nations indigenous to the Land of Canaan. This is actually a pair of mitzvos: the mitzvas aseh (positive mitzvah) to exterminate the seven nations is from Vaeschanan, and the mitzvas lo taaseh (negative mitzvah) to not allow them to live is from Shoftim. Here is the Sefer ha'Chinuch's summary of the mitzvas aseh:

Vaeschanan: Mitzvah #425 - the Mitzvah of Annihilating the Seven Nations 

[We are commanded] to put to death the seven nations that held our land before we captured it from them - these being the Canaanite, Amorite, Hittite, Hivite, Perizzite, and Jebusite [and the Girgashite] - and to eliminate them from wherever we may find them, for it is stated about them: "you shall utterly destroy them" (Devarim 7:2); and the mitzvah was reiterated in Sidrah Shoftim, as it is stated there: "for you shall utterly destroy them - the Hittite and the Amorite, etc." (ibid. 20:17). 

At the root of this mitzvah lies the reason that these seven nations are the ones that started to perform all kinds of avodah zarah (idolatry), and every abomination of Hashem, which He detests. Therefore, since they were a principal root of avodah zarah and its first foundation, we were commanded about them to extirpate and eliminate them from under the heavens, that they may not be remembered or recalled in the land of the living. And in this mitzvah of ours about them, to destroy them, a benefit will result for us: we will eliminate their remembrance from the world, and [thus] we will not learn from their actions. It is, moreover, for us to learn a moral lesson from this - that we should not turn towards avodah zarah, for when we pursue every man in this evil family [of nations] to kill him, because they occupied themselves with idolatry, the thought will not arise in the heart of any man to do acts like theirs under any circumstances. [1]

Before we move on, let me be clear about the scope of this post. Our aim here is not to analyze how it is morally justifiable to eradicate another nation. That is a far more difficult question, which requires its own analysis. Likewise, we will not address the question of the status of these nations in the present day, nor the question of whether we would or wouldn't implement this mitzvah in the present time.

Having said that, working on the premise that the extermination of the seven nations is morally justifiable, my question is: Why was it necessary to eradicate every member of the Seven Nations? In other milchamos (wars), whether a milchemes mitzvah (obligatory war) or a milchemes ha'reshus (optional war), if the opposing nation refuses to make peace with us, we only kill the adult males, but we spare the women and children. Only in the cases of the Seven Nations and Amalek do we kill every individual - that is, in the event that these nations don't accept our overtures to peace [2] - as it says in Shoftim: "do not allow any soul to live" (Devarim 20:16). Why can't we allow women and children of the Seven Nations to live, as we do with other enemy nations?

The Sefer ha'Chinuch cited above addressed this question, saying: "a benefit will result for us: we will eliminate their remembrance from the world, and [thus] we will not learn from their actions." This answer wasn't innovated by him, but is openly stated in the pesukim:

But from the cities of these peoples that Hashem, your God, gives you as an inheritance, you shall not allow any soul to live. Rather you shall utterly destroy them - the Hittite, the Amorite, the Canaanite, the Perizzite, the Hivvite, and the Jebusite - as Hashem, your God, has commanded you, so that they will not teach you to act according to all their abominations that they performed for their gods, so that you will sin to Hashem, your God. (ibid. 20:16-18)

I've known that this is the Torah's reasoning for quite a while, but it hasn't sat well with me. Is it really necessary to exterminate every person in order to achieve this goal? Even the women and children?

Woodard's Answer

It wasn't until I read Woodard's American Nations that I found the answer stated in the pesukim to be satisfying. Woodard raises an objection to his own theory, and his answer to that objection also answers our question:

Any argument that claims to identify a series of discrete nations on the North American continent must address the obvious objection: can nations founded centuries ago really have maintained their distinct identities to the present day? We’re a continent of immigrants and internal migrants, after all, and those tens of millions of newcomers representing every possible culture, race, and creed surely must have diluted and dissipated those old cultures. Is it not the height of fancy to suggest New York City’s distinctive culture is a heritage of having been founded by the Dutch, given that people of Dutch ancestry now account for just 0.2 percent of its population? In Massachusetts and Connecticut – those most Yankee of states – the largest ethnic groups are the Irish and Italians respectively. One might naturally assume that the continent’s nations must have long since melted into one another, creating a rich, pluralistic stew. But, as we shall see, the expected course of events isn’t what actually happened. North American life has been immeasurably enriched by the myriad cultures and peoples who settled there. I personally celebrate our continent’s diversity, but I also know that my great-great grandfather’s people in western Iowa – Lutheran farmers from the island of Funen in Denmark – assimilated into the dominant culture of the Midland Midwest, even as they contributed to its evolution. My Irish Catholic great-grandparents worked the iron and copper mines of the interior West, but their children grew up to be Far Westerners. My great-great-great-grandmother's family fled from the same part of Ireland as their future cousins-in-law, but the mines they found work in happened to be in Quebec, so their descendants grew up speaking French and traveling on aboriginal snowshoes. All of them undoubtedly altered the places to which they emigrated - for the better, I hope - but over the generations they assimilated into the culture around them, not the other way around. They may have embraced or rejected the dominant culture, but they didn't replace it. And it wasn't an "American" or "Canadian" culture they confronted and negotiated with or against; it was one of the respective "national" cultures identified earlier.

Cultural geographers came to similar conclusions decades ago. Wilbur Zelinsky of Pennsylvania State University formulated the key theory in 1973, which he called the Doctrine of First Effective Settlement. “Whenever an empty territory undergoes settlement, or an earlier population is dislodged by invaders, the specific characteristics of the first group able to effect a viable, self-perpetuating society are of crucial significance for the later social and cultural geography of the area, no matter how tiny the initial band of settlers may have been," Zelinsky wrote. "Thus, in terms of lasting impact, the activities of a few hundred, or even a few score, initial colonizers can mean much more for the cultural geography of a place than the contributions of tens of thousands of new immigrants a few generations later." The colonial Atlantic seaboard, he noted, was a prime example. The Dutch may be all but extinct in the lower Hudson Valley - and landed aristocracy may have lost control of the Chesapeake country - but their influence carries on all the same.

The Seven Nations had inhabited the Land of Canaan for hundreds of years prior to the conquest of the land by Israel. The Torah repeatedly emphasizes the depraved culture of Canaan: "do not act in accordance with the actions of the Land of Canaan to which I bring you, and do not follow their practices" (Vayikra 18:3). This corrupt culture started long ago, with the progenitor of Canaan:

Noach, the man of the earth, debased himself and planted a vineyard. He drank of the wine and became drunk, and he uncovered himself within his tent. Cham, the father of Canaan, saw his father's nakedness [which, according to Midrash Tanchuma, is a euphemistic way of saying that he either sodomized his father or castrated him] ... Noach awoke from his wine and realized what his small son had done to him. And he said: "Cursed is Canaan; a slave of slaves he shall be to his brothers. (Bereishis 7:20-25)

By the time the Avos arrived on the scene, Canaan had already become a nation with a reputation of degeneracy. Avraham made Eliezer swear "that you not take a wife for my son from the daughters of the Canaanites, among whom I dwell" (ibid. 24:3). Before Yitzchak bid Yaakov farewell, he warned him: "Do not take a wife from the Canaanite women" (ibid. 28:1). Even the wicked Eisav recognized how his father regarded the culture of Canaan, as the Torah states: "then Eisav perceived that the daughters of Canaan were evil in the eyes of Yitzchak, his father" (ibid. 28:8) - though that didn't stop him from marrying Canaanite women, as the Torah later recounts (ibid. 36:2)

According to Zelinksy's "Doctrine of First Effective Settlement," it was necessary to annihilate every member of the Seven Nations in order to ensure the complete eradication of of their culture from the Land of Israel, in order to be able to establish a new "First Effective Settlement" on Torah ideas and values. Anything short of complete eradication would have left open the possibility that the Canaanite culture and its abominations would persist, and infect the new Jewish society.

Of course, this doesn't mean we regard every single Canaanite as a cultural cancer cell, which would grow out of control if left unchecked. Rather, the halacha must be formulated categorically, and in the laws of waging war, there are only two options: either the women and children civilian population is spared, or it is annihilated. It would be ineffective and impossible to independently assess each and every Canaanite to determine who poses a threat to the new nation. 

Woodard's numerous examples of this dynamic are what sold me on this answer, especially his example about the Dutch settlers of New Amsterdam, and the present-day culture of New York City. As Woodard observed, "people of Dutch ancestry now account for just 0.2 percent of its population" - and yet, the Dutch values of diversity, tolerance, and mercantile ambition continue to set New York City apart from much of the rest of the state. But seriously - read the book and you'll find hundreds of examples.

This is yet another example of how the Divine perspective has a much longer-term range than the limited perspective of man.

[1] I'm going to quote the rest of the Sefer ha'Chinuch's explanation down here in a footnote because it's not really relevant to the question at hand, but is still important enough to cite:

Now, it should not be asked at all: Why were these evil nations created, since ultimately they were to be completely removed from the world? For we have previously known [learned] that free choice is given to man to be good or evil, and Hashem will not impel a man toward either one of them. And since it is so, we have to say that these seven peoples corrupted their ways of action and turned wicked, until they all incurred the fate of elimination and death, although at the beginning of Creation they were fit also for goodness. Now, to this reason we would [also] ascribe the mitzvah of extirpating Amalek in Sidrah Ki Teitzei, the last of the mitzvos aseh in the sidrah (#604).  

If we like, we could further say that perhaps they had at some certain time a brief period of worthiness, and because of that brief period they merited to be created. Or perhaps we could say that from among them all, one worthy person emerged; and for his sake they all merited to be created - in keeping with what we find that the Sages of blessed memory said, that there was one man among the descendants of Amalek, namely Antoninus. It is not out of the question for the Creator to produce any number of persons for the sake of one: for He (blessed is He) experiences no wearisome effort in whatever He desires to do. As His desire is established, whatever He wishes is done; and He (blessed is He), Who comprehends all our actions, knows what need there is for others because of the one particular person, so that all should be created for his sake.

[2] Whenever I teach these topics in school, I make sure to emphasize this point: we always offer peace to every nation - even to the Seven Nations and Amalek - and if they accept peace under the halachically specified conditions, then we do not annihilate them. See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer Shoftim, Hilchos Melachim u'Milchamos Chapter 6 for details. Likewise, I emphasize that we accept converts even from the Seven Nations and Amalek. See Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi) on Devarim 20:18, and Rambam, Mishneh Torah: Sefer Kedushah, Hilchos Issurei Biah Chapter 12.

Announcement: Dialing Back the Daily Blogging

Dear Readers and Friends, 

For the past couple of summers I've kept up my blogging schedule until mid/late-August. Unfortunately, it looks like I'm going to need to get an early start on my school prep for the upcoming year. If I could do preparation while keeping up my blogging schedule, I'd do it, but each blog post takes anywhere from 6 to 20 hours to write, and I simply don't have enough time and mental energy to juggle both. 

I still plan on writing an occasional post about Mishlei and Tehilim, and I hope I'm able to continue with the Friday dvar Torah. I just can't keep up the daily grind. 

I hope you've enjoyed what you've read this summer, and that you'll periodically check back (or follow Facebook updates) to read whatever I end up writing for the rest of the summer!

Thank you for your support!

- Kol ha'Seridim

Parashas Vaeschanan: Methodology Battle - Ibn Ezra vs. Malbim

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Artwork: Battle of Wits, by Edward Beard Jr.
Also, depiction of Ibn Ezra vs. the Malbim

Parashas Vaeschanan: Methodology Battle - Ibn Ezra vs. Malbim

The Battleground

In Parashas Vaeschanan, Moshe Rabbeinu reviews the Aseres ha'Devarim (Decalogue) for the generation that will enter the Land after his passing. The Ibn Ezra, in his introduction to the Torah's original presentation of the Aseres ha'Devarim in Parashas Yisro, acknowledges the glaring problem which confronts any student who carefully reads both parshiyos: the two versions of the Aseres ha'Devarim contain differences in wording! Some of these differences are major, such as:

Shemos 20:8-11 (Yisro): Remember the Shabbos day to sanctify it. Six days shall you work and accomplish all of your work; but the seventh day is Shabbos to Hashem, your God; you shall not do any work - you, your son, your daughter, your slave, your maidservant, your animal, and your convert within your gates - for in six days Hashem made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them, and He rested on the seventh day. Therefore, Hashem blessed the Shabbos day and sanctified it. 

Devarim 5:12-15 (Vaeschanan): Safeguard the Shabbos day to sanctify it, as Hashem, your God, has commanded you. Six days shall you do labor and do all of your work; but the seventh day is Shabbos to Hashem, your God; you shall not do any work - you, your son, your daughter, your slave, your maidservant, your ox, your donkey, and your every animal, and your convert within your gates, in order that your slave and your maidservant may rest like you. And you shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and Hashem, your God, has taken you out from there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm; therefore, Hashem, your God, has commanded you to make the Shabbos day.

In other cases, the differences are more subtle, such as:

Shemos 20:13: You shall not murder; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness against your fellow. 

Devarim 5:17: You shall not murder; and you shall not commit adultery; and you shall not steal; and you shall not bear vain witness against your fellow.

Also subtle:

Shemos 20:14: You shall not covet your fellow's house; you shall not covet your fellow's wife, his manservant, his maidservant, his ox, his donkey, nor anything that belongs to your fellow. 

Devarim 5:18: And you shall not covet your fellow's wife; you shall not desire your fellow's house, his field, his manservant, his maidservant, his ox, his donkey, nor anything that belongs to your fellow.

The Ibn Ezra notes the difficulties raised by these changes and addresses them. If you are interested in his answers, see his lengthy treatise at the beginning of Shemos Chapter 20. 

I'm not going to present any answers of any meforshim (commentators) to these difficulties in this post. Instead, I'd like to focus on a major methodological divide between the meforshim. I've wanted to write about this for a while, and since the Ibn Ezra states his shitah (position) in his introduction to the Aseres ha'Devarim, I decided to use this blog post as a springboard for the discussion.

Ibn Ezra's View: Meanings Matter Most

The Ibn Ezra [1] introduces his shitah prior to explaining the discrepancies between the Aseres ha'Devarim in Yisro and Vaeschanan:

As a general rule, the masters of the Holy Language will sometimes explain their words very clearly, and other times they will say what is necessary in a few concise words from which the listener can derive their meaning. Know that words are like bodies and meanings are like souls, and the body is like a vessel for the soul. Therefore, the general rule of all chachamim (wise men) in any language is to preserve the meanings without any concern about a change of words, so long as the meanings remain the same. 

In other words (ha! get it?), the words are merely the vessels for conveying meaning, and as long as the meaning is preserved, it doesn't matter if the words change. Therefore, when learning Tanach - even the text of the Torah itself - one need not obsess over the nuanced variations in wording which occur when the Torah repeats material. Instead, just focus on getting the main idea, and don't worry be nitpicky about the words.   

The Ibn Ezra then provides some examples:

Hashem said to Kayin: "You are cursed from the ground ... When you will work the ground, it will no longer give forth its strength to you. You shall become a vagrant and a wanderer upon the earth" (Bereishis 4:11-12). Kayin replied: "Behold! You have driven me out this day from upon the face of the ground!" (ibid. 4:14). Now who is so mindless as to think that the meaning [of these two descriptions of Kayin's punishment] isn't the same on account of the change in words! 

Behold! Eliezer said: "Let me sip, if you please, [a little water from your jug]" (ibid. 24:17). However, he [subsequently] quoted himself as saying: "Please give me a drink" (ibid. 24:45). 

Moshe said: "the firstborn of the captive that was in the dungeon" (Shemos 12:29). However, it is written earlier: "the firstborn of the maidservant that is behind the mill" (ibid. 11:5).  

In Devarim, Moshe quoted the prayer which he offered on behalf of Israel because of the Golden Calf (Devarim 9:26-29). Now to the person who lacks a mind capable of understanding, this prayer appears totally different from the one recorded in the Torah portion Ki Sisa (Shemos 32:11-14). 

The general rule is: any change in the wording - such as in the dreams of Paroh (Bereishis 41:1-17, 17-24) and Nevuchadnetzar (Daniel 4), and many other things - you will find the meaning to be the same, even if the words are different. 

The Ibn Ezra goes on to mention other types of cases which fall into this category. Sometimes a word will be lengthened or shortened, or a prefix will be added or taken away, or the spelling of the word will change - all without changing the meaning. 

On the basis of this approach, the Ibn Ezra explains - or brushes away - the differences between the two versions of the Aseres ha'Devarim. According to him, even Moshe Rabbeinu didn't care about changing Hashem's wording in the original Aseres ha'Devarim, so long as he successfully conveyed the Divine intent. (The Ibn Ezra does, however, admit that the radically different presentations of Shabbos requires an actual explanation.)

This approach may seem radical to a student who was raised hearing the standard premise that "there are no extra words in the Torah" and "every letter has a meaning." The Ramban takes the Ibn Ezra to task for his answer here. Apparently, the Maharal devoted an entire chapter of his book, Tiferes Yisrael (chapter 43), to challenging the Ibn Ezra's view. 

On the surface it might seem that Ibn Ezra lacks the reverence for the Torah's use of hebrew. However, one must remember that the Ibn Ezra is considered to be one of the leading authorities in the Hebrew language among the Rishonim, and was an ardent defender of a strictly textual approach to Biblical exegesis. In his introduction to his Torah commentary, [2] he characterizes his approach to Scriptural interpretation as "the grammatical approach," which focuses on the rules of the Hebrew language and the definitions of its words:

The fifth method [of Torah interpretation] is the one upon which I will base my commentary. It appears to me to be correct in the presence of God whom alone I fear. I will not show favoritism to anyone when it comes to interpreting the Torah. I will, to the utmost of my ability, try to understand grammatically every word and then to do my best to explain it. Every word whose meaning the reader desires to know will be found explained the first time the word is encountered. For example, the meaning of "shamayim" will be given in the first verse of Bereishis. This will apply to all terms.

When Ibn Ezra made the statement about "masters of the language" playing fast and loose with their wording, he was speaking as a "master of the language." 

We'll return to the Ibn Ezra's shitah in a moment. For now, let's look at his strongest opposition.

Malbim's View: Words Matter Most

It is safe to say that the Malbim was one of the most creative meforshim in recent times. Like the Ibn Ezra, the Malbim wrote a commentary on almost all of Nach which is grounded in a thorough understanding of the Hebrew language. Unlike the Ibn Ezra, the Malbim is not keen on the idea of glossing over any linguistic nuances in the Torah's repetition of material. Indeed, he holds that the Torah contains no repetitions or synonyms or anything extra whatsoever. 

The clearest summary of the Malbim's approach that I know of can be found in the introduction to his commentary on Sefer Yeshayahu. The Malbim introduces his own method by articulating its three foundational principles:

My commentary rests upon three central pillars: 

(1) Nowhere in the eloquent speech [4] of the neviim is there to be found any repetition of the same idea in different words, nor is there a repetition of ideas, statements, or allegories, nor are there two sentences with the same content, nor are there two mashalim (metaphors) with the same nimshal (interpretation), nor are there even two repeated words.

(2) Nowhere in the eloquent speech of the neviim – neither in their simple nor compound sentences – is there to be found words or verbs which are placed by chance without a specific intent, to the extent that all words, nouns, and verbs which constitute every sentence – not only is it necessary that they occur in that sentence, but it would not have been possible for a divine messenger to use another word in its place, for all of the words in the divine eloquent speech have been weighed on the scales of wisdom and knowledge, evaluated, preserved, counted, and recounted by the metric of Supreme Wisdom which alone is sublime enough to utter it.

(3) Nowhere in the eloquent speech of the neviim is there to be found a husk without content, a body without a soul, a garment without a wearer, a statement devoid of sublime thought, a statement in which understanding doesn’t dwell – for the living God resides in all statements of the living God, with the breath of life in their nostrils, the spirit of the Dreaded, Mighty, Glorious, and Awesome One.

In short, the Malbim maintains that every sentence, every word, and every nuance in the text of Tanach was chosen to convey a specific meaning. There is no repetition, there are no textual features which are there for purely stylistic reasons, and there is no room for multiple possibilities of what the pesukim could have said. According to the Malbim, every single pasuk had to say exactly what it said, in exactly the manner it said it - otherwise, the meaning would be lost. 

Perhaps the most salient feature of the Malbim's approach is his firm instance that there are no true synonyms in Hebrew. Every word means something different. Any two terms which appear to have the same meaning will, upon careful study of their usage throughout Tanach, reveal that they have different definitions. The Malbim's commentary on Tanach is comprised of two parts. One part of his commentary is a "beur ha'devarim" (commentary on the meaning of the pesukim, in context), and the other part is a "beur ha'milos" (glossary of terms). Even a casual glance through the Malbim's beur ha'milos will reveal that his favorite phrase is: "yesh hevdel bein ____ u'bein ____" (there is a difference between [this word] and [this synonym]), which he uses hundreds of times throughout his commentary to elucidate the definitions of these so-called "synonyms."

The Malbim writes that he labored intensively to figure out the definition of each and every Hebrew word in based on exhaustive research. He criticizes other chachamim who have arrived at speculative distinctions between these apparent synonyms by inferring universal definitions from isolated cases, instead of conducting a thorough analysis of every instance of every word in all of Tanach, as he did:

Before I approached this precious work – the holy work of explaining and elucidating the books of Hashem – I first set out to investigate, to explore, and to search for the definitions of the words and verbs that occur in the holy Scriptures until their essential definitions became clear to me with a clear knowledge … 

This path has been followed by all of the later chachamim, who have expounded and clarified the synonyms, and have been satisfied with themselves if they found one distinction in the entire sentence, and thought that the other different words in the two sentences are for beautifying the poetic speech [of the navi] or came about by happenstance; consequently, even the universal principles which [these chachamim] have produced and the distinctions they have made, they are unable to substantiate with proofs, since their words are nothing but guesswork rooted in imagination. 

I, however, have set a law not to be overstepped, for no words have entered into the counsel of Hashem by way of chance, but only with intelligent choice; therefore, the labor which I have taken upon myself is great and difficult, and I have surpassed the work of all others who have endeavored in this manner …

Here the Malbim warns those who attempt to emulate his approach. Unless one is prepared to undertake a complete survey of Biblical Hebrew, one risks falling into "guesswork rooted in imagination," which will inevitably lead to error and falsehood.

The Malbim also makes it clear that he was not relying on anyone else in developing his approach:

You should also know that even though I have been preceded by many chachamim who have distinguished between synonyms – some of whose books I own, such as Sefer Gan Naul and Sefer Yerios Shelomo – despite all of this, I have not relied upon the words of any man, but I have tested everything myself, whether all pesukim can be explained based on the path that I, myself, have paved. Therefore, [my work] has nothing to do with that of another person: I have neither built nor destroyed the words of anyone other than myself, because I analyzed every rule and universal principle myself and committed my own intuition to writing. And if you find that someone else established a universal principle which accords with my own statement, this is an indicator that anyone who possess intelligence will arrive at the same path regarding any matter which is simple and upright.

Suffice it to say, the Malbim would not - and does not - accept the Ibn Ezra's assertion that "the general rule of all chachamim in any language is to preserve the meanings without any concern about a change of words, so long as the meanings remain the same." The Malbim would certainly never accept the Ibn Ezra's general approach to explaining the differences in the Torah's two statements of the Aseres ha'Devarim. If Moshe reversed "you shall not covet your neighbor's wife" and "you shall not covet your neighbor's house" in his restatement, there must be a reason. If the Torah says "eidus sheker" (false testimony) in Yisro but "eidus shav" (vain testimony) in Vaeschanan, there must be a reason. The same goes for all other changes in wording and textual nuances throughout all of Tanach.

"Team Ibn Ezra" 

I view the Ibn Ezra and Malbim as existing along a spectrum, each at one end. The other meforshim throughout the ages - both Rishonim (medieval) and Achronim (post-medieval) - tend to fall on one side of the spectrum or another in this battle of methodology. 

I would argue that most of the classical Rishonim fall closer to the Ibn Ezra's side in their commentaries. This is indicated by their decision not to take up the types of questions about textual nuances which are the focus of the Malbim's commentary. If you compare the commentary of the Malbim side by side with the traditional meforshim, you'll find that many of the linguistic questions which bother him are completely ignored by them. This suggests that they had a different approach.

Granted, I am aware that absence of evidence doesn't always equal evidence of absence. One could argue that they did hold like the Malbim, but assumed that their audience was familiar enough with Hebrew that such questions didn't need to be addressed in their commentaries. One could also argue that they held like the Malbim, but didn't prioritize this type of explanation in their commentaries for some unstated reason. Personally, I don't buy such arguments. In the Malbim's introduction to Sefer Yeshayahu, he makes it pretty clear that the approach in his commentary is unprecedented among the commentators. That, combined with the drastically different content in their commentaries, has me convinced that most classical commentators did not share the Malbim's views on Biblical interpretation.

Moreover, we see a number of mainstream meforshim take stances which directly oppose the  three pillars of the Malbim's method. For example, when confronted with synonyms or repetitions in the pesukim, many meforshim will simply say: "kafal ha'davar b'milos shonos" (the pasuk repeated the same statement in different words) or "kafal ha'inyan b'milos shonos" (the pasuk repeated the same idea in different words). One of my favorite meforshim on Nach, the Radak, uses these phrases over 200 times in his Nach commentary. Metzudas David makes recourse to "kafal ha'davar" over 400 times. The Malbim wouldn't accept this even once.

Similarly, when the classical meforshim explain obscure words in the pesukim, they'll do so by making reference to more common synonyms - and they will do so without explaining the differences, suggesting that they believe the terms to be genuinely synonymous, and not just apparently so. In contrast, the Malbim will point out a synonym, and will then go on to explain how the two terms have subtly different meanings. To me this is a clear indication of a divergence in methodology. It would be a stretch to say that these other meforshim hold that there are no synonyms or repetitions in Tanach, but simultaneously feel so comfortable saying "the pasuk is repeating the same idea" or "this word means basically the same thing as this word." If they hold that the terms are different, they should explain how. And if, like the Malbim, they held that this difference in meaning is critical for understanding the main idea of the pasuk, they would be negligent not to give a full explanation.

Another category of opposition to the Malbim's approach can be seen in the classical commentators' treatment of the numerous allegories, parables and instances of figurative speech in Nach. The Malbim explicitly criticized chachamim who explain extra words and  phrases by claiming that these words serve only "in order to beautify the poetic speech" or that "they came about by happenstance," and serve no real purpose. And yet we find many classical meforshim who take precisely this approach. The Rambam [5] goes so far as to make this into an interpretive rule:

Know that the prophetic parables are of two kinds. In some of these parables each word has a meaning, while others the parable as a whole indicates the whole of the intended meaning. In such a parable very many words are to be found, not every one of which adds to the intended meaning. They serve rather to embellish the parable and to render it more coherent or to conceal further the intended meaning; hence, the speech proceeds in such a way as to accord with everything required by the parable's external meaning.

An example of the first kind of prophetic parable is the following text: "And behold - a ladder set up on the earth etc." (Bereishis 28:12-13). In this text, the word "ladder" indicates one subject; the words "set up on the earth" indicate a second subject; the words "and the top of it reached to the heaven" indicate a third subject; the words "and behold the angels of God" indicate a fourth subject; the word "ascending" indicates a fifth subject; the words "and descending" indicate a sixth subject; and the words "and behold - Hashem stood above it" indicate a seventh subject. Thus, every word occurring in this parable refers to an additional subject in the complex of subjects represented by the parable as a whole." 

An example of the second kind of prophetic parable is the following text: For I have looked out from the window of my house through my lattice, and I saw among the fools, I discerned among the youths, a lad who lacked [an understanding] heart passing through the marketplace near her corner, and he strode toward her house, in the twilight, as daylight wanes, in the blackness of night and darkness. Then behold, a woman approached him, bedecked as a harlot and with siege in [her] heart. She coos and she entices, her feet do not dwell at home. Sometimes in the courtyard, sometimes in the streets, she lurks at every corner. She seized him and kissed him; she thrust forth her face and said to him: "I had vowed to bring peace-offerings, and today I have fulfilled my vow. That is why I went out toward you, to seek your countenance, and I have found you! I have decked my bed with spreads; carved bed poles are hung with Egyptian linen. I have perfumed my bed with myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon. Come, let us sate ourselves with love until the morning; let us rejoice with acts of love, for [my] husband is not at home; he has gone on a distant journey. He has taken the money-pouch with him; he will come home at the appointed time." She sways him with her abundant sophistication; she thrusts him with the glibness of her lips. He follows her unsuspectingly, like an ox to the slaughter; rushing like a venomous snake to discipline the foolish one, until the arrow splits his liver; he is like a bird hurrying to the trap, unaware that its life will be lost" (Mishlei 7:5-20). The outcome of all this is a warning against the pursuit of bodily pleasures and desires. Accordingly he [Shlomo] likens matter, which is the cause of all these bodily pleasures, to a harlot who is also a married woman. In fact his entire book is based on this allegory. And we shall explain in various chapters of this treatise his wisdom in likening matter to a married harlot, and we shall explain how he concluded this book with a eulogy of the woman who is not a harlot but confines herself to attending to the welfare of her household and husband. For all the hindrances keeping man from his ultimate perfection, every deficiency affecting him and every disobedience, come to him from his matter alone, as we shall explain in this treatise. This is the proposition that can be understood from this parable as a whole. I mean that man should not follow his bestial nature; I mean his matter, for the proximate matter of man is identical with the proximate matter of other living beings. And as I have explained this to you and disclosed the secret of this parable, you should not hope to find some signification corresponding to every subject occurring in this parable] so that you could say: what can be submitted for the words, "I had vowed to bring peace-offerings, and today I have fulfilled my vow"? What subject is indicated by the words, "I have decked my bed with spreads"? And what subject is added to this general proposition by the words, "for my husband is not at home"?The same holds good for the other details in this chapter. For all of them only figure in the consistent development of the parable's external meaning, the circumstances described in it being of a kind typical for adulterers. Also the spoken words and other such details are of a kind typical of words spoken among adulterers. Understand this well from what I have said, for it is a great and important principle with regard to matters that I wish to explain.

The Rambam and the Malbim clearly disagree on this point! The Malbim would criticize the Rambam for saying that all of these details were included by Shlomo solely for the purpose of developing the external allegory, and convey no ideational content or significance. The Rambam, in turn, would criticize the Malbim for seeking an interpretation of these details and descriptions when no such interpretation exists. In fact, the Rambam goes on to voice just such a criticism:

When, therefore, you find that in some chapter of this treatise I have explained the meaning of a parable and have drawn your attention to the general proposition signified by it, you should not inquire into all the details occurring in the parable, nor should you wish to find significations corresponding to them. For doing so would lead you into one of two ways: either into turning aside from the parable's intended subject, or into assuming an obligation to interpret things not susceptible to interpretation and that have not been inserted with a view to interpretation. The assumption of such an obligation would result in extravagant fantasies such as are entertained and written about in our time by most of the sects of the world, since each of these sects desires to find certain significations for words whose author in no way had in mind the significations wished by them. Your purpose, rather, should always be to know, regarding most parables, the main idea that was intended to be known. 

Basically, the Rambam is warning us that if we follow the Malbim's approach, looking for deep significance in every detail, we'll end up missing out on major ideas and projecting our own fantasies onto the pesukim which have nothing to do with the meaning that the authors (or Author) intended to convey. 

To my mind it is clear that the Malbim's approach was not shared by many of the classical meforshim among the Rishonim and Achronim. This conclusion is supported by the lack of Malbim-esque explanations in their commentaries, and the abundant interpretations they do provide which violate the three pillars of the Malbim's approach.

"Team Malbim"

And yet, the Malbim is not alone in his methods. First and foremost, his approach - or at least, something like his approach - was shared by none other than Chazal (i.e. the Tannaim and Amoraim). In his book, Ayeles ha'Shachar, the Malbim [6] writes: 

Chazal strove to figure out the essential definitions of all borrowed terms … Similarly, they showed the relationship between homonyms … And each synonym has a unique definition on which they build their many drashos. The same is true of parallel expressions: after much study, [one can understand] when one expression is used and when another is used …

In other words, the approach that Chazal took in their drashos parallels the Malbim's own approach - so much so that the Malbim attempted to fuse the two in Ayeles ha'Shachar, and in his commentary on Torah. Anyone who has learned Gemara and the various collections of midreshei aggadah and midreshei halacha will be able to see that Chazal's approach to Tanach is far more similar to the Malbim's than the Ibn Ezra's. They clearly cared about textual nuances, apparent repetitions, and anomalous words and phrases. They clearly held that every feature of the text was there for a specific reason, to convey specific Torah content. They would never say, "The Torah repeated the same thing in different words" or "this description is just here to develop the allegory, and has no significance beyond that." (Of course, the Rambam would say that they actually held this, but just didn't say it.)

And since Chazal followed this approach, the meforshim who regularly integrate Chazal's explanations can also be included on "Team Malbim." Rashi would definitely be part of the group. So would the Torah Temimah and the Baal ha'Turim. Other commentaries accept this approach, even if they supplement it with other approaches, such as the Ramban, Rabbeinu Bachya, and even the Ralbag, in his own way 

But the Malbim's true kindred spirit was Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch, who was a contemporary of his. Like the Malbim, Rav Hirsch set out on an ambitious linguistic project to understand all the nuances of Hebrew, based on his own analysis and his own theories on etymology. Rav Hirsch would certainly agree with the Malbim that synonyms should be scrutinized for subtler shades of meaning, and he would also agree that the subtleties in the text are important. When reading Rav Hirsch's commentary one gets the feeling that he and the Malbim would make a great chavrusa (learning pair), having different ideas - owing to the differences in their creativity - but fundamentally sharing the same outlook in their interpretive methodology and linguistic framework.

Another group of people who would be in good company with the Malbim are those who are inclined to apply modern methods of literary analysis to Tanach. Like the Malbim, they strive to be in tune with the textual landscape, in all of its particularity. They also care about intertextuality, parallel phrasing, organizational schemes, and a bunch of other fancy shmancy literary devices - which I imagine the Malbim would appreciate (judging by my experience with his style).

Concluding Thoughts

Obviously I am in no position to decide which approach is “better” or “more correct.” There are advantages and disadvantages to each. 

If I had to choose, though, I would side with the Ibn Ezra. Our priority in learning must be to get the main idea, even if we don’t appreciate all of the details of how that idea is expressed in the pesukim. Furthermore, even the Malbim would admit that we cannot expect to do what he did, and that if we tried, we would be engaging in speculative guesswork. The only way to truly learn Tanach on the level of the Malbim would be to study the text with his commentary as the infallible (for all practical purposes) guide to Biblical Hebrew. The advantage of this approach is that we’d get to see all of the amazing insights that the Malbim’s approach draws out of the text. The disadvantage is that we’d be totally dependent on him for our learning. 

As a teacher, I default to the Ibn Ezra side. However, that doesn’t stop me from sharing with my students the ingenious, creative, nuanced interpretations offered by the Malbim in his monumental commentary.

[1] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra, Commentary on Sefer Shemos (Long Version) 20:1

[2] ibid. Commentary on Sefer Bereishis: end of Introduction

[3] Rav Meir ben Yechiel Michel (Malbim), Commentary on Sefer Yeshayahu: Introduction

[4] The term used here is "מליצות" which can mean "allegories," "figurative speech, "flowery speech," "poetic speech," "rhetoric," and the like. I've translated it as "eloquent speech," since I believe that the Malbim intends this to cover all the words of the prophets - not just select sections.

[5] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Moreh ha'Nevuchim: Introduction

[6] Rav Meir ben Yechiel Michel (Malbim), Ayeles ha'Shachar 30:248

Tu b'Av and the Joy of National Cognitive Dissonance

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Artwork: [Title Unknown], by Maciej Kuciara

Tu b'Av and the Joy of National Cognitive Dissonance

Tomorrow is Tu b'Av. When I first heard about Tu b'Av (the 15th day of the month of Av), I thought it was a modern innovation - like the recent incarnation of Tu bi'Shvat as a day of environmental activism, or the secularized Yom ha'Shoah which is detached from its proper place in the framework of halacha. As it so happens, the celebration of Tu b'Av does have an authoritative source in none other than the Mishnah itself. The mishnah in Taanis 4:8 states:

Rabban Simeon hen Gamliel said: "There are no days more joyous in Israel than the 15th of Av and Yom ha’Kippurim, for on them the maidens of Jerusalem used to go out dressed in white garments — borrowed ones, in order not to cause shame to those who had them not of their own, and these clothes were also to be previously immersed – and thus they went out and danced in the vineyards, saying, ‘Young men, look and observe well whom you are about to choose [as a spouse]; regard not beauty [alone], but rather look to a virtuous family, [for it is stated:] “Grace is deceitful and beauty is futile, but a woman who fears Hashem – she should be praised” (Mishlei 31:3); and it is also said: “Give her the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise her in the gates” (Mishlei 31:31).’ And thus is it said [in allusion to this custom], ‘Go out, maidens of Jerusalem, and look on King Solomon, and on the crown with which his mother has encircled [his head] on his wedding day, and on the day of the gladness of his heart’ (Shir ha’Shirim 3:11) – ‘his wedding day’ alludes to the giving of the Torah, and ‘the day of the gladness of his heart’ alludes to when the building of the Temple was completed. May it soon be rebuilt in our days. Amen!”

The Gemara (Talmud Bavli: Taanis 30b) asks what is so special about Tu b'Av:

It is reasonable [to make this statement] about Yom ha’Kippurim, which has forgiveness and pardon, and is the day on which the second tablets were given. But the 15th of Av – what is it?

The Gemara answers by listing six joyous events associated with Tu b'Av. Here is a summary:

1. the shvatim (twelve tribes) were permitted to intermarry with one another
2. the temporary ban against the tribe of Binyamin was lifted, thereby permitting Benjaminites to marry into the rest of Israel once again
3. the Dor ha'Midbar (Generation of the Wilderness) stopped dying on Tishah b'Av, indicating the end of the punishment for the Cheit ha'Meraglim (Sin of the Spies)
4. the sentries set up by Yeravam ben Navat blocking access to Jerusalem were removed
5. the massacred Jews of Beitar were permitted to be buried
6. the annual wood-chopping for the Mizbeach (Altar) was completed

Of these six reasons, the one that caught my attention this year was #4. The Gemara says:

Ulla said: This is the day on which Hoshea ben Elah abolished the sentries that were set up by Yeravam ben Navat on the roads [to Yerushalayim], so that [the citizens of the Northern Kingdom of] Israel couldn’t make their aliyah l'regel (festival pilgrimage); [Hoshe ben Elah] said [to the people]: "Go wherever you please." 

These sentries were set up by Yeravan ben Navat way back in 797 B.C.E. (according to the timeline on chabad.org), when Shlomo ha'Melech's unified kingdom was split and Yeravam became Melech Yisrael (king of the Northern Kingdom of Israel):

Yeravam built up Shechem in the Mountain of Ephraim and dwelled in it; then he left there and built up Penuel. Yeravam then thought, “Now the kingship may revert to the House of David. If this people will go up to bring offerings in the Temple of Hashem in Yerushalayim, the heart of this people will revert to their lord, to Rechavam, king of Yehudah, and they will kill me and return to Yeravam, king of Yehudah.” Then the king took counsel, and he made two golden calves; and he said to the people, “It is too far for you to go up to Yerushalayim. These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up from the land of Egypt!” He placed the one in Beis-El and the other one in Dan. This matter became a sin, and the people traveled all the way to Dan to worship before one of them. (I Melachim 12:25-30)

Although the pesukim do not explicitly mention the sentries set up by Yeravam to block access to Yerushalayim, these obstacles are alluded to in the pesukim about Hoshea ben Elah - the very last Melech Yisrael, who assumed power in 574 B.C.E. (according to chabad.org), over 200 years later. Unlike all of the other Malchei Yisrael, about whom it is said that they "did what was evil in the eyes of Hashem," the pesukim report about Hoshea ben Elah that "he did what was evil in the eyes of Hashem, but not like the kings of Israel who were before him" (II Melachim 17:2). The Gemara (Gittin 88a) explains this qualification:

Rav Kahana and Rav Asi said to Rav: “It is written of Hoshea ben Elah: ‘He did what was evil in the eyes of Hashem – but not like the Kings of Israel’ and it is written: ‘Shalmaneser, King of Assyria, went up against him; and Hoshea became his vassal and sent him a tribute’ (ibid. 17:3)”! [This would seem to imply a wrongdoing on his part!]

[Rav] replied to them: “Yeravam had stationed sentries on the roads so that Israel wouldn’t go up [to Yerushalayim to make pilgrimage] on the festivals, and Hoshea abolished [these sentries]. Nevertheless, Israel didn’t make pilgrimage on the festival. Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu [therefore] said: “[Corresponding to] those years during which Israel didn’t make pilgrimage, they should go into captivity.”

The reason why Ulla's explanation of Tu b'Av caught my attention is because it didn't lead to a good outcome! I'd understand if Hoshea removed the sentries and the citizens of the Northern Kingdom flocked to the Mikdash (Temple) in Yerushalayim once the sentries were removed - but as our Gemara says, that didn't happen! I'd also understand if Hoshea's decision as king was an entirely praiseworthy act - but according to Chazal, it wasn't! The Talmud Yerushalmi's (Taanis 4:6) version of the aforementioned Gemara in Gittin includes an explanation of Hoshea's misstep:

R’ Chiyya bar Ashi said in the name of Rav: “It was on that day that Hoshea ben Elah removed the sentries that Yeravam ben Navat set up on the roads.” Kahana asked Rav: “He did all this good, and yet it is written concerning him: ‘Against him came up Shalmaneser, king of Assyria; [and Hoshea became his vassal and paid him tribute]’?” 

[Rav] replied to him: “It was because he took the chain from around his own neck and put it around the neck of the community. He did not say, ‘Everyone go up [to Yerushalayim for the pilgrimage festival]!’ but rather ‘Whoever wants to go up may go up [for the pilgrimage].’”

In other words, removing the sentries was good, but it wasn't good enough. As king, he should have been more proactive in guiding his people on the proper path. Apparently, his proto-progressive "freedom of religion" policy was not enough in Hashem's eyes to spare Hoshea.

So if Hoshea's removal of Yeravam's stumbling block did not, in actuality, lead to a national teshuvah in the Northern Kingdom, why is this identified as a cause for celebration on Tu b'Av?

The simple answer is that the removal of ra (evil) is, in and of itself, a cause for celebration, even if it doesn't ultimately bear fruit. In this case, the removal of Yeravam's roadblocks was a joyous event, since it left Israel with no impediments to doing the mitzvah of aliyah l'regel.

I would like to suggest a modern day example of this type of opportunity-turned-tragedy: the recapturing and subsequent relinquishment of Har ha'Bayis (the Temple Mount) by Israel in the Six Day War of 1967. Mere hours after the victorious proclamation, "Har ha'Bayis is in our hands!" Moshe Dayan returned it to the control of the Muslim Wakf, and, in a Hoshea-esque justification, said: "We did not come to conquer the sacred sites of others or to restrict their religious rights, but rather to ensure the integrity of the city and to live in it with others in fraternity." Like the removal of Yeravam's sentries, the restoration of Har ha'Bayis to Jewish sovereignty was an occasion worthy of joyous celebration, even though the opportunity was squandered almost immediately thereafter.

I thought of a second possibility for why Hoshea's removal of Yeravam's sentries might be an occasion of joy, even though it didn't lead to any good. I will acknowledge at the outset that this explanation is a bit of a stretch. 

Perhaps the joyous occasion was not the opportunity for the nation to do the mitzvah of aliyah l'regel, but rather, the opportunity for the nation to do teshuvah by making a bechirah (free will) decision. 

My answer is based on the explanation in the Yerushalmi, that Hoshea "took the chain from around his own neck and put it around the neck of the community" by telling them, "Whoever wants to go may go!" instead of commanding them to go. The Gemara identifies this as a failing on Hoshea's part. This may be true, but at the same time, Hoshea's decision granted the people of Israel a unique opportunity for teshuvah. If he had commanded them to go to Yerushalayim, they might have done it simply because it was mandated by their king. But by giving them the choice, it forced each person to exercise his or her own bechirah by choosing whether or not to do the mitzvah. In the past, it would be easy to rationalize not making aliyah l'regel by placing the blame on Yeravam or on the regnant king, but thanks to Hoshea's "religious freedom" edict, the people could no longer blame anyone but themselves. If they didn't go to Yerushalayim, it was undeniably their choice.

This hearkens back to an earlier event in the history of Malchus Yisrael: Eliyahu ha'Navi's speech to Bnei Yisrael on Har ha'Carmel:

Achav [the evil king of Israel] sent among all the Children of Israel and he gathered the prophets [of Baal] to Mount Carmel. Eliyahu approached all the people and said, "How long will you dance between two opinions? If Hashem is the God, follow Him! And if Baal [is the god], go after him!" - but the people did not answer him at all.

By calling them out with such a direct and provocative challenge, Eliyahu was, in effect, forcing each Israelite to make a decision about what he or she believed. Had he not done this, Bnei Yisrael could have conveniently avoided confronting their cognitive dissonance. They could have gone along with the prophets of Baal when the latter were ascendant, and switched teams when Eliyahu’s side was winning – all without having to take a stand and make a decision. Eliyahu's statement forced each Jew to ask himself: "What do I believe?"

Similarly, Yeravam's sentries prevented Bnei Yisrael from making a real decision - and if Hoshea had commanded them to make aliyah l'regel, they still wouldn't have had to make a decision. But by "placing the chain on their neck," giving them the choice, he was providing them with a unique opportunity to do teshuvah gemurah (complete teshuvah) by confronting their own resistance to aliyah l'regel, and everything that aliyah l'regel entailed. This opportunity – the situation in which a nation is forced to confront its own cognitive dissonance – that is something to be celebrated, even if it didn't lead to teshuvah, and even if Hoshea wasn't motivated by good intentions.

Do I think that this is actually the reason why we celebrate on Tu b'Av? No. My second answer is far more speculative than the simpler explanation mentioned above. Nevertheless, even if this isn't the real reason that Chazal had in mind, I think it's still a valuable insight to think about on Tu b'Av. 

Mishlei 29:9 - The Fool's Dirty Debate Tactics

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Artwork: Browbeat, by Chris Rahn

Mishlei 29:9 - The Fool's Dirty Debate Tactics

משלי כט:ט

אִישׁ חָכָם נִשְׁפָּט אֶת אִישׁ אֱוִיל וְרָגַז וְשָׂחַק וְאֵין נָחַת:

Mishlei 29:9

Raw Translation: A wise man who nishpat with a foolish man, and he rages and he laughs, and there is no satisfaction/rest.

I chose this pasuk for today's Mishlei post because it's a good example of how ambiguity in the wording can lead to multiple directions in the analysis. When I learned this pasuk with my Mishlei group this past Shabbos, we didn't have access to my mikraos gedolos (compendium of commentaries), and we were forced to work out the translation on our own. I'll include the difficulties in my list of questions on the pasuk:

(1) What does "nishpat" mean? The root SH.F.T. (ש.פ.ט.) typically denotes "to judge," but can also mean "to dispute" or "to argue." The use of the nifal (passive) form is also very strange. "is judged" makes sense, but "is disputed" or "is argued [with]" are also valid translations.

(2) Who "rages" and "laughs"? Is the chacham (wise man) raging and laughing at the eveel (foolish man), or is the eveel raging and laughing at the chacham? 

(3) What, exactly, is this "rage" and "laughter"? Is "rage" different than mere "anger"? Is the emphasis on his feeling of anger, or on his display of anger? The laughter is even vaguer than the rage. Is this talking about "laughter" that stems from humor? Is it laughter of mockery? Is it laughter of happiness and camaraderie? And why is this person raging and laughing? What is the relationship between the situation (i.e. arguing, disputing, or being judged) and these two reactions? Is it davka (specifically) these two reactions, or are these just examples from within a larger category?

(4) Who doesn't receive satisfaction - and why not? The answer to this question is dependent on the answer to Question #2, and maybe dependent on the answer to Question #3.

[Time to stop and think about the pasuk in light of these questions. Read on when ready.]

Before we can present the main idea of the pasuk, we need to settle on a translation. Here are the approaches taken by the various meforshim:

Rashi: A wise man who argues with a foolish man may rage and laugh, but there will be no satisfaction [for the wise man].

Ralbag: When a wise man argues with a foolish man, [the fool] will rage and laugh, and there will be no rest [for the wise man].

Ibn Ezra: When a wise man is judged with a foolish man, [the fool] may rage and laugh, but there will be no satisfaction [for the wise man].

Metzudas David: A wise man who is judged with a foolish man may rage and laugh, but there will be no satisfaction [for the wise man]. 

As I mentioned, we didn't have access to meforshim when we learned this pasuk. The translation we came up with happens to be one that none of the meforshim explicitly say:

Our Translation: When a wise man is judged with a foolish man, [the fool] may rage and laugh, but he will have no satisfaction.

For those of you who appreciate charts, here are the five translations side by side:

The fact that none of the meforshim proposed this translation doesn't bother me. I am not aware of any grammatical or syntactical problems, and our translation reflects the most straightforward reading, both in terms of the use of the passive "nishpat" (which literally means "he is judged") and in the conservative reading of the ambiguous pronouns (i.e. "the fool may rage and laugh, but there will be no satisfaction for the fool"). Plus, "raging" and "laughing" seem more like the actions of an eveel than the actions of a chacham, which is why we shied away from translating the pasuk like Rashi and Metzudas David.

Here is my four-sentence summary of the main idea:

When a chacham finds himself in a situation in which he is being judged alongside an eveel (e.g. two participants in a public debate, two businessmen competing for the same customers, two candidates vying for the same position), he should prepare himself to face the dirty tactics that the eveel will use. The fool will attempt to prevail by utilizing provocatively aggressive displays of emotion – such as rage and mocking laughter – in an effort to destabilize the chacham, and to make himself appear dominant in comparison. As long as the chacham remains visibly unshaken and unperturbed by the eveel's bombastic onslaught, and doesn’t give him the satisfaction of pushing his buttons, then these tactics will backfire. The audience (i.e. whoever is in a position to pass judgment) will observe the stark contrast between the chacham’s cool, levelheaded, objective disposition and the eveel’s heated, combative, immature bullying; this side-by-side comparison will simultaneously boost the ethos of the chacham and diminish that of the eveel. Chances are that the eveel, himself, will become frustrated with the chacham’s indifference to his assaults, which will destabilize him, making him feel even more frantic and less in control of himself; this, in turn, will make him appear desperate and pathetic in the eyes of the audience, thereby giving the chacham an edge - in addition to the substance of his arguments, which will inevitably be superior to the eveel's.

After we came up with this explanation, and I gained access to my meforshim, I saw that the Ri Nachmias gives a very similar explanation of our pasuk. The only difference is that he translates "nishpat" as "argues" instead of "is judged," like Rashi and Ralbag, in contrast to Ibn Ezra and Metzudas David. Nevertheless, he also learns - like we do - that there is an audience present in the situation, which practically means that the chacham and eveel are being judged. Here is the relevant excerpt from the Ri Nachmias's (much lengthier) explanation:

If a wise man who argues with a fool, [the fool] may rage and laugh ... Since this fool doesn't have much knowledge, he'll project self-images (oseh tzuros me'atzmo) to deceive the people who are there ... These are polemical techniques (darchei nitzuach) which [the eveel uses to] trick listeners [into thinking that he] knows what he doesn't [actually know].

The Ri Niachmias quotes a pasuk from elsewhere in Shlomo ha'Melech's writings which supports our interpretation: "The words of the wise are heard calmness (b'nachas) over the shouting of a ruler among fools" (Koheles 9:17). In the Rambam's description of how talmidei chachamim (Torah scholars) speak and behave, he borrows this phrase from Koheles:

A talmid chachamim shouldn't yell or shout when he speaks, like animals and wild beasts, nor should he raise his voice; rather, his speech with people should be calm. And when he speaks calmly, he should be careful not to distance himself, to the extent that he appears haughty.

In other words, this calmness in speech shouldn't be limited to situations involving a fool. Rather, "nachas" (in the sense of "calmness" rather than "satisfaction") should be the default mode of speech for talmidei chachamim.

The Ralbag would agree with the title of this post, but according to him, our pasuk focuses on a specific tactic used by the eveel in debates: interrupting the chacham. He translates our pasuk as: "When a wise man argues with a foolish man, [the fool] will rage and laugh, and there will be no rest [for the wise man]." Here is his explanation:

When a wise man argues with a foolish man, in a verbal back-and-forth, the eveel will not allow the chacham to speak and to finish his statements. Instead, sometimes he'll react angrily to what he hears the chacham say and will not allow him to complete his statements, and sometimes he'll laugh and mock what he hears [the chacham] say, and he will not give him a pause (nachas) which would enable him to complete what he intended to clarify. This pasuk is, as it were, a warning to the chacham not to argue with an eveel.

One of the best examples of our pasuk in action is the Canadian psychologist Jordan Peterson. I found a video which exemplifies all three interpretations - that of the Ralbag, the Ri Nachmias, and ours. I wanted to find a shorter video, but this is the best I could come up with.


It will not always be possible for a chacham to avoid debating with or being judged alongside an eveel. When such a situation arises, the chacham must keep the eveel's repertoire of tricks at the forefront of his mind, and not allow him to get the upper hand.