Lishmah and l'Kanter

This can be read as a standalone post, provided that you're familiar with the basic terminology of learning lishmah (for its own sake) and she'lo lishmah (not for its own sake), as explained by the Rambam in his Introduction to Perek Chelek. 

I'll also state a disclaimer here. The subject of lishmah and she'lo lishmah is both deep and broad. The topic is multifaceted, and there are many views within the Mesorah on each facet. The purpose of this post is to analyze one answer to one question - not to serve as a comprehensive overview of the entire subject.

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Artwork: Calculated Dismissal, by Karl Kopinski

Lishmah and l'Kanter

The Question

The Gemara in Pesachim 50b states:

Rava brought up a contradiction: "It is written: 'for Your mercy is great unto the heavens' (Tehilim 57:11) and it is [also] written: 'for Your mercy is great above the heavens' (ibid. 108:5). 

How [can this contradiction be resolved]? [The pasuk which describes His mercy as above the heavens] refers to those who act lishmah, [whereas the pasuk which describes His mercy as merely reaching the heavens] refers to those who act she'lo lishmah."  

[This teaching of Rava] accords with what Rav Yehuda said in the name of Rav: "a person should always engage in Torah and mitzvos even she'lo lishmah, because mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah (from she'lo lishmah one will come to lishmah)."

According to the statement of Rav Yehuda in the name of Rav, learning she'lo lishmah is praiseworthy, insofar as it brings a person to lishmah. The Gemara also implies that those who engage in Torah and mitzvos she'lo lishmah merit a high level of Divine mercy, albeit not quite as high as that attained by those who act lishmah.

Elsewhere, however, Chazal make other statements which imply that learning she'lo lishmah is undesirable. For example, the Gemara in Berachos 17a states:

Rava was wont to say: "The objective of wisdom is teshuvah and good deeds, that a person shouldn't read and learn yet spurn his father, and his mother, and his teacher, and one who is greater than he in wisdom and in number, as it is stated, 'the beginning of wisdom is fear of Hashem, a good intellect to all who do them' (Tehilim 111:10) - it is not stated 'to those who do' but rather it is stated 'to those who do them' - [that is,] to those who act lishmah, but not to those who act she'lo lishmah. And anyone who acts she'lo lishmah - it would be better if he hadn't been created.

Another statement which deprecates she'lo lishmah can be found in Taanis 7a:

It was taught in a braisa that R' Benaah would say: "Anyone who engages in Torah lishmah, it becomes an elixir of life for him, as it is stated: 'it is a tree of life to those who grasp it' (Mishlei 3:18), and it says: 'it shall be health to your navel' (ibid. 3:8), and it says: 'for whoever finds me finds life" (ibid. 8:35). And anyone who engages in Torah she'lo lishmah, it will be an elixir of death for him, as it is stated: 'My teaching shall drop [yaarof] like rain' (Devarim 32:2) and arifah means nothing other than killing, as it is stated: 'they shall break the heifer's neck (arefu) there in the valley' (Devarim 21:4)."

Perhaps the most shocking anti-she'lo lishmah statement can be found in Kallah Rabbasi 5:1:

Rebbi Akiva says: "Whoever studies she'lo lishmah, he would have been better off if he had been smothered by his afterbirth."

Broadly stated, the central question that emerges from these and similar sources is: How can Chazal's anti- she'lo lishmah statements be reconciled with their pro- she'lo lishmah statements? If those who learn she'lo lishmah are better off if they were never created, or if their Torah is an elixir of death, or if they should have been smothered by their afterbirth, then how can Chazal encourage us to engage in Torah and mitzvos she'lo lishmah and say that we will be the recipients of Hashem's mercy "unto the heavens"?

[Note: While it's true that aggadic (non-legal) statements were authored by different sages, and don't necessarily have to be reconciled, the commentators by and large seem to assume that these statements about lishmah and she'lo lishmah ought to be. Perhaps this is the assumption here because it would be strange for there to be a genuine disagreement on a topic that is so fundamental as this.]

Tosafos's Answer

Tosafos state their resolution to this difficulty in several places. Although there are nuanced differences between their different formulations of their answer, they mostly boil down to the same thing. I'll cite the most straightforward formulation, which can be found on Taanis 7a:

"and anyone who engages in Torah she'lo lishmah, it will be an elixir of death for him" - This is difficult, for don't we say that "a person should always be involved in Torah even though it's not lishmah because from she'lo lishmah one will come to lishmah"? 

The answer is that there are two types of she'lo lishmah. When we say "a person should always be involved in Torah even she'lo lishmah," this is referring to a case in which [he learns] in order to be called "rabbi" or so that people will honor him, but that which is stated here, [that] "anyone who is involved in Torah she'lo lishmah it becomes an elixir of death for him" - this refers to someone who learns l'kanter.

The term "l'kanter" is a bit tricky to translate. I usually translate it as "to counter" or "to be contrarian." Jastrow translates it as "to chide." I've also seen it translated as "to antagonize," "to provoke," "to break down," "to rebut," "to vanquish," and other similar terms. In their other statements of this answer, the Baalei Tosafos provide some additional clues. On Berachos 17a they use the phrase "l'kanter chaveirav" which implies that l'kanter is an act committed against someone else. On Pesachim 50b they say: "le'hisyaher (to be haughty), l'kanter (to counter), and le'kapeach (to overpower) his fellows in halacha."

Regardless of which translation we use, the general answer provided by Tosafos is clear: there are two types of she'lo lishmah. When Chazal endorse she'lo lishmah learning, they are referring to motives such as seeking honor and wanting to be called "rabbi," and when they speak against she'lo lishmah, they are referring to l'kanter.

Understanding Tosafos's Answer: Approach #1

The main question on Tosafos's answer is: What is the basis of this subdivision within she'lo lishmah? What makes l'kanter different from other she'lo lishmah motives?

The most common answer I've heard to this question is based on the reasoning Chazal used in their endorsement of learning she'lo lishmah. They said: "a person should always engage in Torah and mitzvos even she'lo lishmah, because from she'lo lishmah one will come to lishmah." If l'kanter doesn't fall into this category, then it must be because l'kanter does not bring a person to lishmah.

I have two problems with this approach. The first is that I don't understand why l'kanter cannot bring a person to lishmah. At the end of the day, learning l'kanter doesn't seem to be fundamentally different than learning l'kavod. Some people want the kavod of being called "rabbi," some want the kavod of being knowledgeable in every area of Torah, and the person who learns l'kanter wants the kavod of winning arguments. It's all kavod, and just as the child in the Rambam's parable will eventually "grow out of" his kavod motive and become attached to the learning itself, the same is true for the person who learns l'kanter. 

My second problem with this approach is that it's empirically false. I know a number of people whose initial attachment to learning was as a tool to break other people down - usually parents, teachers,  or community rabbis with whom they disagreed - and many of these individuals eventually came around to learning lishmah. Yes, it's possible to take any of my examples and argue that the individual in question wasn't really learning l'kanter, or that this person had other legitimate she'lo lishmah motives as well, but this type of apologetic navel-gazing quickly strays into the fallacious "no true Scotsman" territory. 

The only basis on which I might be open to accepting this understanding of Tosafos's answer is if l'kanter referred specifically to someone who engages in sophistry, fabrication of sources, intellectual dishonesty, or anything which involves a distortion of truth. The Sefer Chasidim (#294) seems to characterize l'kanter this way, speaking of "[one who learns] l'kanter and to provoke and looks to bring false proofs to undermine your words." If that is what l'kanter means, then I can see how it wouldn't lead to lishmah.

The problem is that I don't see any basis for positing that this is Tosafos's definition of l'kanter. I haven't seen any indications in Tosafos that their concept of l'kanter involves any form of intellectual malfeasance. If this were the essence of their definition of l'kanter, one would expect them to mention it, or at least hint at it. 

At the end of the day, the two aforementioned problems prevent me from accepting this approach to understanding Tosafos: (1) I haven't yet heard a convincing explanation of why l'kanter precludes lishmah, and (2) this distinction clashes with my experience. 

Understanding Tosafos's Answer: Approach #2

I asked our question to my Mishlei rebbi and he had a much more elegant - and, in my opinion, truer - answer. He explained that according to Tosafos, all she'lo lishmah learning leads to lishmah, but despite that, Chazal discouraged learning l'kanter because of its destructive effects. In other words, there is no difference between l'kanter and any other she'lo lishmah motive insofar as "mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah" is concerned. The only reason why Chazal singled out l'kanter (according to Tosafos) is because they wanted to voice their disapproval of forms of learning which lead to bad middos (personality traits) and cause strife in the Beis Midrash or in Klal Yisrael.

To clarify the difference between these two approaches, consider the following analogy. A music teacher makes two statements about the practicing piano: (1) "practice makes perfect" and (2) "don't practice all day - remember to go out and play!" It would be possible to reconcile these two statements in the manner of Approach #1 by saying that in general, "practice makes perfect," but practicing all day without going outside to play will not "make perfect." (They say that Chopin forbade his students to practice more than 3-4 hours a day, believing that excess practice is detrimental to musicality.) Alternatively, one can reconcile these two statements by saying that indeed, all practice makes perfect; however, those who only practice but don't go outside to play will suffer additional harm, outside of their musicality, and for that reason it is not advisable to practice all day.

My Mishlei rebbi's approach addresses both of the problems I had with Approach #1. According to this approach, we don't need to grope in the dark for reasons why l'kanter can't lead to lishmah; all we need to do is acknowledge that the harmful effects of l'kanter warranted harsh condemnation by Chazal. Secondly, this approach explains the real-world cases I was referring to earlier: there have been many students who have learned l'kanter and who have arrived at lishmah, even as they wreaked havoc in their middos and communities in the process.

Support from the Rambam

I believe that my Mishlei rebbi's approach to understanding Tosafos is supported by a letter from the Rambam (Sheilat edition p.160). R' Pinchas ha'Dayan had asked the Rambam about the contradictory implications of Chazal's statements about she'lo lishmah. The Rambam answered as follows:

Those two statements regarding one who engages in Torah lishmah and she'lo lishmah do not contradict each other. From both of them we learn that it is only proper to be involved in Torah lishmah, and lishmah is the essence, and we were only commanded to be involved [in Torah] lishmah, and one who is involved [in Torah] she'lo lishmah is better off having never been created. 

Nevertheless, it is better to be involved [in Torah] she'lo lishmah than to not be involved in it at all, because this person who is involved in it inappropriately will, because of his involvement she'lo lishmah, come to lishmah. 

Unlike the Baalei Tosafos, who resolve the contradiction by subdividing she'lo lishmah into two categories, the Rambam doesn't differentiate between l'kanter and other she'lo lishmah motives. He regards all she'lo lishmah motivations as being equally inferior and equally capable of leading to lishmah.

The proponents of Approach #1 are free to maintain that there is a machlokess (disagreement) between Tosafos and the Rambam on whether l'kanter precludes lishmah, but according to Approach #2, there's no need to posit this. One can simply say that the Rambam and Tosafos are in complete agreement that all she'lo lishmah learning can potentially lead to lishmah, but whereas the Rambam held that these statements of Chazal were intended to convey their views about she'lo lishmah in general, the Baalei Tosafos maintained that they were intended to single out a specific she'lo lishmah motive for condemnation.

Concluding Thoughts

I am curious as to your thoughts on Tosafos's distinction between l'kanter and other she'lo lishmah motives. If you agree with Approach #1 and would like to explain to me why, contrary to the real-world cases I've observed, l'kanter cannot lead to lishmah, then I'm all ears! Alternatively, if you think there's a problem with Approach #2 or if you have a third approach, I'd like to hear that as well. Lastly, if there are other interesting sources, ideas, or questions you'd like to share on the topic of lishmah and she'lo lishmah, please do share!

Mishlei 21:12 - When to Help a Rasha Succeed

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Artwork: Kambal, Consul of Allocation - by Vincent Proce

Mishlei 21:12 - When to Help a Rasha Succeed

משלי כא:יב

מַשְׂכִּיל צַדִּיק לְבֵית רָשָׁע מְסַלֵּף רְשָׁעִים לָרָע:

Mishlei 21:12

A tzadik brings success to the house of a rasha, corrupting resha’im towards evil.

For an expanded definition of "tzadik" and "rasha," see my post The Mishleic Spectrum: A Glossary of Mishleic Personalities.

The root of the word "maskil" (ש.כ.ל.) can be translated as either "comprehend" or "success." Consequently, the meforshim (commentators) are divided as to how this word should be translated here, in the phrase "maskil tzadik l'beis rasha." Most meforshim maintain that the proper translation is: "a tzadik comprehends the house of a rasha" (see Meiri, Rabbeinu Yonah, Rid, Ri Nachmias, and others), but a minority of meforshim translate it as "a tzadik brings success to the house of a rasha" (Ralbag and Metzudas Tzion). 

My Mishlei rebbi always taught me that when faced with the choice between two translations, go for the more difficult one. Why? Because it's more fun that way! 

Based on the translation of "maskil tzadik l'beis rasha" as "a tzadik brings success to the house of a rasha," there are three questions:

(1) Why would a tzadik bring success to the house of a rasha? Isn't it a bad thing if the rasha succeeds? Why would a tzadik facilitate that? 

(2) Under what circumstances does a tzadik do this? Even if we can find a reason why a tzadik would bring success to the house of a rasha, it doesn't seem likely that the tzadik would always do this, but would only do so in specific situations. What are those situations?

(3) What is meant by "corrupting resha'im towards evil"? The phrase is ambiguous. (Whenever I teach this in my Mishlei class, there's always a student who asks, "Does it mean corrupting a rasha towards what he considers to be evil, which is actually good? Maybe it means that the tzadik helps the rasha to do teshuvah?" I don't think this is a plausible reading of the pasuk, but the fact that this question comes up shows the extent of the pasuk's ambiguity.) 

[Time to think! Read on when ready.]

Here's my four-sentence summary of the main idea of this pasuk:

According to Mishlei, a rasha is someone who one who seeks to impose his own “system” onto reality in order to achieve power and greatness, often at the expense of the other members of the system, whom he will use, abuse, and trample underfoot without any compunction. The tzadik recognizes that "the path of the wicked [leads to] destruction" (Tehilim 1:6) and knows that rasha is destined to fail, since his ambitions will continue to grow more and more fantastical and unrealistic either his artificial system self-destructs because reality itself can’t sustain it, or the people he oppresses rise up and put an end to his reign. For this reason, the tzadik will sometimes facilitate the rasha’s success by corrupting him further towards evil in order to hasten his inevitable downfall. Of course, the tzadik will only do this after weighing the consequences of playing the role of enabler and determining whether this route is the lesser of two evils. 

My favorite example of this in Tanach involves Esther the tzadekes and Haman the rasha. Chazal (Megilah 15b) ask why Esther invited Haman to a series of parties with herself and Achashveirosh instead of immediately informing her husband of Haman's plot and asking for his assistance. One of the Amoraim answers that she intended to make the king and the other nobles jealous of Haman by showering him with attention. Another Amora answers by citing the pasuk: "Pride goes before the fall, and haughtiness comes before stumbling" (Mishlei 16:18). Both answers exemplify the strategy in our pasuk. Haman sought power and greatness. Esther knew that Haman's pursuit of this goal would eventually result in his destruction, but because her people were in danger, she couldn't afford to wait. Instead, she acted as a catalyst by inviting him to her parties, thereby feeding his ego fueling his success. Her plan worked. After the first party, Haman went home and bragged to his wife, sons, and friends about his recent ascendancy. In Haman's eyes, Esther was helping him to succeed, but in actuality, she was "corrupting him towards evil," in order to bring about his destruction. 

My favorite historical example - or pair of examples - involves two power-hungry men whose haughty ambition directly led to their downfall in similar ways: Napoleon and Hitler. [Note: obviously, history is very complicated, but I'm going to oversimplify these events in order to use them as examples for our pasuk.] Both men amassed powerful military forces, the likes of which the world had never seen. Both men strove for absolute power and world domination. Both men foolishly attempted to invade Russia in the winter, and failed horrendously. These failures marked turning points in their respective wars, and ultimately led to their defeat. I don't know whether Napoleon or Hitler had advisors who cautioned them against these ill-fated military campaigns, but if a tzadik were to find himself in just such an advisory position, this would be a case in which he would implement the strategy in our pasuk. Such advisors would convince their rasha-leaders to go ahead with these invasions and lead them to believe they would succeed, concealing their knowledge that these plans would most certainly lead to failure and destruction.

On a more mundane level, this strategy can be implemented in situations involving non-full-fledged reshaim, but merely a person who wishes to impose a doomed-to-fail system in an otherwise stable environment. Say, for instance, a CEO has a plan to radically change how his company is run, and one of his lower-ranking employees knows that this plan will be terrible for the company's efficiency. First this employee will see if there is any way at all to persuade his boss that the plan will be ineffective. If he sees that his boss is unlikely to change his mind, then our pasuk would suggest that the employee take the opposite approach by facilitating the success of his boss's plan as much as possible. If the plan truly is doomed to fail, then it is in his best interest enable his boss's plan to "succeed" with maximum efficiency, so that its failure is quicker and more pronounced. Even though his boss refused to listen to reason, perhaps he'll recognize his error when he sees with his own eyes that his plans resulted in failure. Additionally, by actively striving to maximize the success of his boss's plan, the employee prevents his boss from being able to point at various factors in hindsight, saying, "My plan is great! The only reason it didn't work because of XYZ." If the employee had attempted to sabotage the plan or even if he dragged his feet and was lax in carrying it out, then his boss could still maintain that his plan was a good idea, and blame its failure on its implementation.

This pasuk is a great example of how a tzadik's mind works. Because he thinks systemically, he will see strategies that strike the non-tzadik as counter-intuitive, or even detrimental. Perhaps this is what the majority of meforshiim are getting at when they translate the pasuk as: "a tzadik comprehends the house of a rasha." 

Summer 2019: State of the Blog Update

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Artwork: Summer Bloom, by Nikola Leonard

Summer 2019: State of the Blog Update

The Past 

On Wednesday June 5th, 2013, I wrote a post on my old blog (of blessed memory) entitled Thorns, Nettles, and the State of This Blog. I began the post with Mishlei 24:28-34:

I passed by the field of a lazy man, and by the vineyard of a man lacking [an understanding] heart, and behold, it was all overgrown with thorns; nettles had covered its surface; and its stone wall was broken down. When I saw this, I set my heart [to understand]; I saw and I took mussar (discipline). A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to recline, and your poverty will come like a traveler, and your lacking like an armed man.

In that post I went on to explain the mussar Shlomo ha'Melech took from this experience. It had to do with witnessing the cumulative consequences of laziness. I cited the Meiri, who explained:

[These pesukim] teach us that laziness causes damage little by little until it reaches an extreme state. In the beginning the only growth was brambles, thorns, and thistles - all of which are soft and easily removable. But due to [the owner's] laziness, they continued to grow until they covered the entire surface of the field and vineyard, thereby making them difficult to remove. Still, if he had made a concerted effort, he would still be able to fix things. But due to his laziness, [these thorns continued to grow] until the stone wall was broken down, thereby exposing [his field] to be consumed by the herds of oxen and sheep [thereby leading him to the poverty mentioned at the end of the pesukim].

Then I addressed the state of my blog. I lamented that the quantity and quality of my posts waned after I started teaching full-time several years prior, and I expressed my frustration over my inability to achieve the levels of prolificacy that I had managed to attain several years prior to that, during the dawn of the Jewish Blogosphere (2007-2010). 

To remedy this laziness, I stated my intention to make three changes to my blogging habits:

1. Daily Content: Taking an inspirational cue from Grace Helbig, a vlogger I followed in the early 2010's, I committed myself to posting every single weekday during the summer months. In addition to increasing the number of posts I'd write, I also felt that this would help me "to loosen the reins on my perfectionism and be satisfied uploading posts which don't live up to my ridiculously unrealistic perfectionist standards." (In editing this post I realized that I had initially typed "reigns" instead of "reins" which shows you just how much control I still feel that I need.)
   
2. Syncing Blog and Mind: Secondly, I wanted to make my blog a place where, when someone asked me, "What do you think about such-and-such?" I could say, "I wrote a blog post on that" and that blog post would reflect my most up-to-date thoughts on that topic. My blog would serve as a repository for my views and ideas in a manner that could easily be shared with others.
   
3. More Mishlei: My blog in 2013 didn't have much Mishlei on it, mostly because I used to have another blog devoted specifically to Mishlei, which had become defunct by 2013. I wanted to find a way to incorporate ideas from my favorite sefer into the regular routine of the blog. 

Little did I know that the very next year, I'd be forced to shut down my blog. The following summer, in 2014, I started this blog - Kol ha'Seridim - from scratch. Although I was furious about the situation at the time, it ended up being a blessing in disguise. I used the relaunching of the blog to change the tone of my writing, and to edit many of my old posts to reflect my updated views and updated standards of clarity. 

With Hashem's help, I was able to follow through on all three of the goals I had set for myself. I kept up with my daily blogging schedule each summer, and was very happy with the numbers:

• 2014: 37 posts
• 2015: 55 posts
• 2016: 64 posts
• 2017: 58 posts
• 2018: 46 posts
• Total posts to date: 267 posts 

My new blog became significantly more "synced up with my mind" than my old one. And, starting a few summers ago, I incorporated weekly Mishlei posts into my blogging routine. I was happy with the way I was writing, and the blog flourished.

The Present

When the bulk of my classes ended this year in mid-May I resolved to "get ahead" with my blogging schedule. I knew that I'd be taking a two week long road trip from June 23rd to July 5th, and I wanted to make sure that I had my daily posts written and ready to go, so I wouldn't have to worry about writing while I was on the road. 

Then I got sick. Sicker than I had been in a few years. I was out of commission for nearly two weeks, and couldn't muster up the energy to write. I did not get ahead as plan.

Summer is quickly approaching. I still have tons of end-of-the-year duties to take care of before the school year ends, and I leave for my road trip in 12 days. I've been fretting over how I'm going to manage to drive 5-8 hours a day AND write decent blog posts AND enjoy my road trip. 

Soon after I arrive at my destination, we'll be going to visit my grandmother until mid-July. Although I've managed to keep up my blogging during this annual summer trip, it isn't always easy. There are definitely days that I've spent more time indoors writing than out enjoying the vacation that my grandmother helps pay for.

I've also been thinking about what I'll be doing for the rest of the summer. I plan on doing somewhat of an overhaul on several of my curricula this summer to make the upcoming academic year more efficient. I need to do this, or else I'll burn out this year, as I've been on the verge of doing at various points over the past couple of years. 

Not only that, but College Board threw me a curve ball by updating the one AP Course I teach, which means that I'll need to rework my curriculum for that class this summer as well. 

With all of these thoughts piling on top of me, I started having anxiety about how I'll get all of this done and still keep up the frequency and caliber of my blog posts.

Then it hit me: I don't have to write a blog post every day! Nobody is forcing me to do it. To be more accurate: there's only one person forcing me to do it, and that's me. 

At first I justified my stance on the basis of duty. I have readers. They expect me to write. They depend on the daily dose of learning I provide. How could I let them down?

But after digging  little deeper, I came to terms with the fact that this is a rationalization. I realized that the main thing keeping me attached to this daily schedule was pride. I took pride in telling people that I write one post every weekday for the entire summer. I took pride in my disciplined writing routine - in the fact that I'd stay up late into the summer nights on the West Coast writing, editing, and tweaking my blog posts so that they'd be ready for my readers by 6:00am East Coast Time. I took pride in seeing the number of blog posts I published every year.

And I realized that there was another reason I had for sticking to the daily blogging routine: stubbornness. Whenever I thought of deviating from my routine of the past five summers, I recoiled at the thought, saying, "What are you thinking?! How can you stop now? You've done this for five whole summers!" 

But then I pictured what the first leg of this summer would look like, particularly during the road trip. That picture included a lot of guilt, a lot of hastily written posts done with the urgency of meeting the deadline regardless of quality, and a lot of frustrating and joyless writing.

That's not the writer I want to be.  

On Erev Shavuos I decided that it was time for a change. 

The Future

Here are my three new goals for this summer:

1. To NOT Post Every Day: My decision in 2013 to commit to daily posting was a good one. I set that goal and I met it, and my learning and my blog benefited from the decision. But now it's time to go to the other extreme, in order to break the neurotic pride and stubbornness that are my tag-team of taskmasters. My road trip at the end of June will really put this to the test. Will I be at peace with my decision to not write a blog post every day during the summer? Only time will tell. That'll be an interesting trip in more ways than one.
   
2. To NOT Stick to Deadlines: These past summers I've scrambled to finish posts so that they're ready in time to go up at 6:00am Eastern Time. I've rushed divrei Torah to make sure they're completed in a timely manner. I've stayed up late messing with the fonts, alignment, and margins of the PDF so that they look aesthetically pleasing. Now I'm going to be more lax when it comes to these self-imposed deadlines. Today's intentionally late post was the first time I tested this goal.
   
3. To Return to Playing with Torah: The problems I've acknowledged here are intimately related with the writing problems I've struggled with on numerous occasions. I've written about these problems in my post: Playing with Torah. If you've read this before then you'll know what I'm talking about. If you don't, then check out that post. Practically speaking, this means that I'm going to return to writing about what I want to write about, ignoring the feeling that I need to innovate or to write or not write about specific topics based on my readership. This recent interest in writing about lishmah and she'lo lishmah is a great example of this. Part of me said, "Will be readers really be interested in this topic as much as I am? Maybe I should write about what they're interested in." But NO! I need to write about what I'm interested in, since that's going to produce the best writing. If someone loses interest in my blog, then there's plenty more Torah content out there for them to consume instead.

So there you have it. Those are my three goals for Summer of 2019. I succeeded in the three goals I set for myself in the Summer of 2013, and seeing as how I'm six years older and wiser and more mature, I'm reasonably optimistic that I'll succeed in these three goals as well, with Hashem's help. 

I ask that my readers and friends be supportive of my decision, even if it doesn't align with their personal preferences. Know that any decision which helps me to be a better learner and a better writer is ultimately a good decision for all of us.

Thank you for your continued interest in my writing and teaching.

Shavuos 5779 / Bamidbar: Mishkan and Sinai

As you will soon see, this post did NOT come together in the end as I had hoped. I debated whether to share it publicly at all and decided that I might as well post it, in hopes that it might one day lead to the next step in the inquiry. I hope you find some value in it.  

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Artwork: Mountain (M10), by Nils Hamm

Shavuos 5779 / Bamidbar: Mishkan and Sinai

Ramban's Theory

In his introduction to Sefer Bamidbar the Ramban presents a theory about the relationship between the Mishkan (Tabernacle) and Har Sinai (Mt. Sinai). Here is the first paragraph of the Ramban's introduction, with my own paragraph breaks for clarity:

After explaining the system of korbanos (sacrifices) in the third book (i.e. Sefer Vayikra), He now begins, in this book, to arrange the mitzvos that were commanded in the matter of the Tent of Meeting. He has already warned for all generations against defiling the Mikdash (Sanctuary) and its sanctified objects, and now: 

He set boundaries around the Mishkan while it is in the Wilderness just as He set boundaries around Har Sinai when the kavod Hashem (Glory of Hashem) was there. 

He commanded [regarding the Mishkan]: "and any stranger who approaches shall die" (Bamidbar 3:38) just as He said there [regarding Sinai]: "[a hand shall not touch it] for he shall surely be stoned" (Shemos 19:13). 

He commanded [regarding the Mishkan]: "but they shall not come and look as the holy is inserted, lest they die" (Bamidbar 4:20) just as He warned there [regarding Sinai]: "lest they break through to Hashem to see, and a multitude of them will fall" (Shemos 19:21). 

He commanded [regarding the Mishkan]: "You shall safeguard the charge of the holy and the charge of the altar" (Bamidbar 19:21) just as He said [regarding Sinai]: "even the Kohanim who approach Hashem should be prepared ... but the Kohanim and the people - they shall not break through [to ascend]" (Shemos 19:22-24). 

Behold, He commanded further how the safeguarding of the Mishkan and its vessels shall be and how they shall encamp around [the Mishkan] and [how] "the people shall stand from afar" (cf. Shemos 20:18) and how "the Kohanim who approach Hashem" (cf. Shemos 19:22) shall conduct themselves when [the Mishkan] is at rest and being transported, and what they shall do for its safeguarding. All of this is a distinction and an honor for the Mishkan, as [Chazal] said: "a king's palace that has guards is incomparable to a palace without guards" (Sifrei Zuta, Korach 18:4).

The Ramban also introduces Sefer Vayikra with a summary of this theory:

This book is the law for the Kohanim and the Leviim. In it He clarifies the matters regarding all the sacrifices and the safeguarding of the Mishkan, for as the other book (i.e. Sefer Shemos) was concerning the [Egyptian] exile and the redemption from it and He completed it with the matter of the Tent of Meeting and the kavod Hashem that filled the Mishkan, [now] He commanded regarding the korbanos and the safeguarding of the Mishkan, so that the sacrifices should be an atonement for them so that their sins should not cause the departure of the shechinah. And He commanded regarding "the Kohanim who approach Hashem," that "they should be sanctified" (cf. Shemos 19:22) for He warned [them] against the defiling of the Mikdash and its sacrificial foods. And also that they should "not break through to ascend to Hashem" (cf. Shemos 19:24) as He said: "Speak to Aharon, your brother - [he shall not come at all times into the Sanctuary, within the Curtain, in front of the Cover that is upon the Ark, so that he should not die]" (Vayikra 16:2), which is comparable to the warning given [at Sinai]: "lest they break through to Hashem to see, and a multitude of them will fall" (Shemos 19:21). And He set boundaries around the Mishkan like the boundaries set for Har Sinai at the time that the kavod of the God of Israel was there.

The Ramban's theory is clear: the setup of the Mishkan (and the surrounding Camp) is designed to reflect and recall the setup of Har Sinai. Both the Mishkan and Sinai have boundaries. Breaching the boundaries results in death. In both scenarios the people are warned not to look at holy phenomena. The need for safeguarding applied to both the Mishkan and Sinai. The spacing in the Camp of the Kohanim and the Israelites parallels their spacing during the event at Sinai.

But there's more to the Ramban's theory than that. The crux of his theory was stated much earlier, in his introduction to Parashas Terumah (Shemos 25:1), where he explains the purpose of the Mishkan. He writes:

When Hashem spoke with Israel "face to face" (Devarim 5:4) [telling them] the Decalogue and commanding them through Moshe in some mitzvos as universal categories for the [rest of] the Torah's mitzvos - just as our Sages of blessed memory enacted as a practice with converts who seek to become Jewish - and Israel accepted upon themselves to do whatever He would command them through Moshe Rabbeinu, peace be upon him, He [consequently] made a covenant with them regarding all this. Now they had become a people unto Him and He had become their God, as He stipulated with them at first: "and now, if you hearken well to Me and you will observe My covenant, you shall be to Me the most beloved treasure of all peoples, for Mine is the entire world" (Shemos 19:5) and He said: "You shall be to Me a kingdom of kohanim and a holy nation" (ibid. 19:6). Thus, they were holy and worthy for there to be a Mikdash in their midst, [a place for Hashem] to rest His shechinah (indwelling) among them. Therefore, He first commanded regarding the matter of the Mishkan, so that He would have an abode among them sanctified to His Name, and there He would speak with Moshe and command Bnei Yisrael.

Behold! The main objective of the Mishkan is as a place for the resting of the shechinah, which was [atop] the Ark, as He said: "it is there that I will meet with you, and I shall speak with you from atop the cover [... on the Ark]" (ibid. 25:22) ... 

The esoteric significance of the Mishkan is that the kavod that rested upon Har Sinai [when the Torah was given] should rest upon [the Mishkan] in a concealed manner. And just as it was stated there [regarding Sinai:] "the kavod Hashem rested upon Har Sinai" (ibid. 24:16) and it is written: "Behold! Hashem, our God, has shown us His kavod and His greatness" (Devarim 5:21), and He mentioned twice regarding the Mishkan: "the kavod of Hashem filled the Mishkan" (ibid. and in 25:35), parallel to "His kavod" and "His greatness" [mentioned at Sinai]. And the kavod that was seen at Sinai remained constantly with Israel in the Mishkan, and whenever Moshe entered [the Mishkan] he would receive the same [type of] communication that was spoken to him at Sinai. 

And just as it was said regarding the Giving of the Torah: "from heaven He caused you to hear His voice in order to teach you, and on earth He showed you His great fire" (Devarim 4:36), so too regarding the Mishkan it is written: "he heard the voice speaking to him from atop the cover [that was upon the Ark of the Testimony] from between the two Keruvim (Cherubim), and He spoke to him" (Bamidbar 7:89). The words "and He spoke to him" are repeated [at the end of that pasuk] in order to convey what [the Sages] said by way of tradition that the voice would come from heaven to above the Ark-cover and speak to Moshe from there. For every communication with Moshe originated in heaven during the day and was heard from between the Keruvim in a manner similar to [the Giving of the Torah, of which it is written:] "and you heard His words from the midst of the fire" (Devarim 4:36). This is why [the Keruvim] were both made of gold. Likewise, Scripture stated: "[at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, before Hashem,] where I shall meet with you to speak to you there ... and it will be sanctified with My glory" (Shemos 29:42-43) for that was to be the meeting place for communication, and it would be "sanctified with My glory."

There are many subtle points being made here, but the main idea is clear: the purpose of the Mishkan is to house the Ark, which is a resting place for the kavod - or shechinah - that descended upon Sinai; this kavod is also the place from where Hashem would speak to Moshe in the Wilderness, as it spoke to Bnei Yisrael at Sinai.

That, in a nutshell, is the Ramban's theory. Now we need to understand it.

[My Failure in] Understanding the Meaning of the Ramban's Theory

The Ramban's theory is adequately supported by the pshat (straightforward reading) of the pesukim he cited. The question is: What does he mean? What is his understanding of the kavod Hashem that descended on Sinai and filled the Mishkan? What is the relationship between the singular Divine communication at Sinai and the day-to-day communication with Moshe at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting during the 40 years in the Wilderness? What is the purpose of this parallel setup of Sinai and the Mishkan in the Camp?

When I set out to an answer to this question, I figured that the best way to find answers would be to look up the Ramban's commentary on the pesukim he cited. Much to my dismay, the vast majority of these pesukim contain scant commentary from the Ramban. The few pesukim on which he elaborated only added to my confusion. For example, on the pasuk: "The cloud covered the Tent of Meeting, and kavod Hashem filled the Mishkan" (Shemos 40:34) the Ramban explains:

"the kavod Hashem filled the Mishkan" - because the inside of it was filled with the kavod, because the kavod dwelled inside the cloud which was inside the Mishkan, as it was stated in regards to Har Sinai: "[Moshe approached] the thick cloud, where God was" (Shemos 20:18).

Similarly, when I looked up the Ramban's comments on the first pasuk of Sefer Vayikra in hopes that he'd clarify how Hashem spoke to Moshe from the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, this is what I found:

The pasuk here says: "He called to Moshe and Hashem spoke to him" but doesn't say this in other places, because [here] "Moshe was not able to enter the Tent of Meeting" (cf. Shemos 40:35) to approach the place "where God was" (cf. Shemos 20:18) except by means of a summons that [Hashem] called out to him, for it had already been said to Moshe: "[It is there that I will meet with you,] and I shall speak with you from atop the Cover, from between the two Keruvim [that are on the Ark]" (ibid. 25:22) "where I will meet with you" (ibid. 30:6). And since he knew that God is "enthroned upon the Keruvim" (cf. I Divrei ha'Yamim 13:6), he was fearful of entering the Tent of Meeting at all, until He would call to him, just as [He had done] at Har Sinai, where it says: "He called to Moshe on the seventh day form the midst of the cloud" (ibid. 24:16). 

The Ramban's cryptic comments like these only added to my confusion, while simultaneously reinforcing the prominence of his theory. The more I looked for explanations, the more questions and problems I encountered. 

These difficulties are due in large part to obscure and esoteric nature of subject matter here. The kavod Hashem at Sinai and over the Ark, the nature of the revelation at Sinai and Moshe's prophecy, the purpose of the Mishkan and its vessels - each of these topics is a metaphysical rabbit hole unto itself, and the Ramban's theory deals with ALL of them in conjunction! 

The Success of Failing to Understand

Just as I was ready to give up on this topic, it suddenly dawned on me: "I don't understand these topics ... but that's kind of the point here, isn't it?" All of these topics have one thing in common: they all reside at the outermost boundaries of human understanding, and force us to confront the limitations of our own mind.

This point is the most obvious with regards to the kavod Hashem at Sinai. The whole point of setting boundaries around Har Sinai was to prevent people from drawing near, "lest they break through to Hashem to see" (Shemos 19:21) - that is, to intellectually apprehend Hashem's kavod. The Rambam devotes an entire chapter of the Moreh ha'Nevuchim (1:5) to lauding the virtue of restraint in man's attempt to apprehend the Divine, as exemplified by the proper conduct of Moshe Rabbeinu at the Burning Bush, and condemning the improper conduct of the Atzilei Bnei Yisrael (Nobles of the Children of Israel) at Sinai: 

When the chief of the philosophers began to investigate very obscure matters and to attempt a proof concerning them, he excused himself by making a statement of the meaning of which was as follows. A student of his books should not, because of the subject of these researches, ascribe to him effrontery, temerity, and an excess of haste to speak of matters of which he had no knowledge; but rather he should ascribe to him the desire and the endeavor to acquire and achieve true beliefs to the extent to which this is in the power of man. In the same way we say that man should not hasten too much to accede to this great and sublime matter at the first try, without having made his soul undergo training in the sciences and the different kinds of knowledge, having truly improved his character, and having extinguished the desires and cravings engendered in him by his imagination. When, however, he has achieved and acquired knowledge of true and certain premises and has achieved knowledge of the rules of logic and interference and of the various ways of preserving himself from errors of the mind, he then should engage in the investigation of this subject. When doing this he should not make categorical affirmations in favor of the first opinion that occurs to him and should not, from the outset, strain and impel his thoughts toward the apprehension of the Creator; he rather should feel awe and refrain and hold back until he gradually elevates himself.  

It is in this sense that it is said: "And Moshe hid his face, for he was afraid to look upon God" (Shemos 3:6) - this being an additional meaning of the pasuk over and above its external meaning that indicates that he hid his face because of his being afraid to look upon the light manifesting himself - and not that Hashem, Who is greatly exalted above every deficiency, can be apprehended by the eyes. [Moshe], peace be upon him, was commended for this; and God, may He be exalted, let overflow upon him so much of His bounty and goodness that it became necessary to say of him: "And the image of Hashem shall he look upon" (Bamidbar 12:8). Chazal (Berachos 7a) have stated that this is a reward for his having at first "hidden his face" so as "not to look upon God."  

The Atzilei Bnei Yisrael, on the other hand, were overly hasty, strained their thoughts, and achieved apprehension, but only an imperfect one. Hence it is said of them: "And they saw the God of Israel, and there was under His feet [the likeness of sapphire brickwork, and it was like the essence of the heaven in purity]" (Shemos 24:10) and not merely: "And they saw the God of Israel." For these words are solely intended to present a criticism of their act of seeing, not to describe the manner of their seeing. Thus they were solely blamed for the form that their apprehension took inasmuch as corporeality entered into it to some extent - this being necessitated by their overhasty rushing forward before they had reached perfection. They deserved to perish, but [Moshe], peace be upon him, interceded for them, and they were granted a reprieve until the time they were burnt at Taveirah, whereas Nadav and Avihu were burnt at the Tent of Meeting, as is stated in a correct tradition.  

This having happened to these men, it behooves us, all the more, as being inferior to them, and it behooves those who are inferior to us, to aim at and engage in perfecting our knowledge of preparatory matters and in achieving those premises that purify apprehension of its impurity, which is error. [Only] then may one approach the divine and holy station. It is accordingly said: "And also the Kohanim who approach Hashem should be prepared, lest Hashem burst forth against them" (Shemos 19:22). Accordingly, Shlomo has bidden the man who wishes to reach this rank to be most cautious, warning by way of allegory: "guard your foot when you go to the house of God" (Koheles 4:17).  

I shall now go back in order to complete what we began to explain, and I shall say: Because of the hindrances that were a stumbling block to the Nobles of the Children of Israel  in their apprehension, their actions were also troubled; because of the corruption of their apprehension, they inclined toward matters of the body. Hence it says: "And they gazed at God, and they ate and they drank" (Shemos 24:11) ...

The need for intellectual restraint applies not only to the kavod Hashem at Sinai, but to the revelation itself, which was a one-time occurrence - "a great voice, never to be repeated" (Devarim 5:19) - and which utterly overwhelmed those who heard it, causing them to exclaim:

"Behold! Hashem, our God, has shown us His glory and His greatness, and we have heard His voice from the midst of the fire; this day we saw that Hashem will speak to a person and he can live. But now, why should we die when this great fire consumes us? If we continue to hear the voice of Hashem, our God, any longer, we will die! For is there any human that has heard the voice of the living God speaking from the midst of the fire, as we have, and lived?" (ibid. 5:21-23).

Regarding the unfathomable character of that revelation, the Rambam (Moreh ha'Nevuchim 2:33) writes:

It is impossible to expound on the Gathering at Mount Sinai to a greater extent than Chazal spoke about it, for it is one of the sisrei Torah (mysteries of Torah). The true reality of that apprehension and its modality are quite hidden from us, for nothing like it happened before and [nothing like it] will happen after.  

And if, as the Ramban suggests, this voice at Sinai is the same as (or related to) the voice that spoke with Moshe at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting from between the two Keruvim on top of the Ark, then that voice is also shrouded in the same type of mystery. 

The same goes for the nature of Moshe's nevuah. Not only does the Rambam repeatedly emphasize the difference between Moshe's nevuah and that of the other neviim, but he even goes so far as to write (ibid. 2:35):

I will let you know that everything I say on [the topic of] nevuah in these chapters of this treatise refers only to the form of nevuah of all the neviim who were before Moshe and who will come after him. As for the nevuah of Moshe Rabbeinu, I shall not touch upon it in these chapters with even a single word, either in an explicit fashion or in a flash. For to my mind, the term "navi" used with reference to Moshe and to the others is equivocal. The same applies, in my opinion, to his miracles and to the miracles of others, for his miracles do not belong to the class of the miracles of the other neviim. 

And even the Mishkan itself, which is in the realm of mitzvos - and, therefore, theoretically within our understanding - is treated by the Rishonim as an esoteric topic that should be approached with extreme reticence and intellectual humility. The Sefer ha'Chinuch, who provides reasons for all of the mitzvos, prefaces his explanation of Mishkan (Mitzvah #95) with the following reverent disclaimer:

What lies at the root of this mitzvah you will see [below] after these words of mine. Indeed, I have a great fear of drawing close to the Mishkan Hashem [to provide an explanation for it], for I know that "everyone who comes near, who comes near" (Bamidbar 17:28) if he has not adequately sanctified himself, will not see the house and live (cf. Shemos 33:20 regarding knowledge of Hashem's essence: "for man cannot see Me and live"). "And also the Kohanim who approach Hashem" for service "should sanctify themselves" as they come into the holiness within; and my brethren "the Leviim purified themselves ... and Aharon raised them up in an offering" (Bamidbar 8:21) before they would raise their voices in the Temple of Hashem. Yet, I said: "Let me also speak my thought and present my apology before my elders, and I will "wash my hands in innocence" (Tehilim 73:13) before I go up to the House of Hashem.

Thus it is clear that the difficulty I faced in my investigation of this topic was to be expected. All of the topics that comprise the Ramban's theory about the Mishkan and Sinai are exceedingly recondite, and it is highly unlikely for someone of my low caliber to expect to attain a fundamental comprehension of such lofty concepts. 

Upon realizing that the roadblock I encountered was an inherent part of the investigation I embarked upon - "a feature, not a bug," as they say - my central question shifted. Rather than attempting to understand the elements of the Ramban's theory, I instead began to wonder: What is the purpose of setting up the Mishkan and the Camp to reflect the most incomprehensible phenomena known to man? 

Consider the elements of the Pesach Seder, which are set up to remind us of events and concepts related to the Yetzias Mitzrayim (Exodus from Egypt). Matzah reminds us of the redemption; Maror reminds us of the bitterness; drinking four cups reminds us that we are freemen. These readily accessible elements of the Seder connect us to readily accessible ideas which benefit us by their contemplation. Compare that to the Mishkan and Camp, which is set up to remind us of concepts that are all but incomprehensible to even the most erudite individuals in the nation! What, exactly, does this accomplish? 

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Unfortunately, it appears that I'm going to run out of time before I can finish working out an answer and finishing this post. Shavuos is almost upon us, and  I want to think about this some more because I don't yet feel that I have an adequate answer. I will share one thought that occurred to me. 

Dwelling with the Unknowable

Rabbeinu Bachya ibn Paquda (Chovos ha'Levavos 1:10) writes:

The ultimate result of your knowledge of God should be the confession and conviction that of His glorious Essence you are completely ignorant. If you form in your mind or imagination a picture or representation of the Creator, strive to investigate His Being; and then you will be convinced of His existence, and all likenesses of Him will be rejected by you, so that you will find Him through reasoning alone.

We worship a Being Who is completely incomprehensible to us. This Being manifested His incomprehensible kavod to us at Sinai, spoke to us in a meaningful manner through a type of communication whose nature is completely incomprehensible to us, gave us His Torah through His prophet through a form of nevuah which is completely incomprehensible to us, then commanded us to build for Him a Mishkan, so that His incomprehensible kavod can dwell among us, speaking in its incomprehensible manner to the navi whose nevuah is absolutely incomprehensible. 

It is easy and natural for us to focus on aspects of Torah that we do know or can know, but we mustn't lose sight of that which we can't know. To be a Jew is to follow a religion entirely centered around knowledge which centers around an unknowable core. The setup of the Camp was designed as a constant reminder of these unknowable foundations: Hashem, His kavod, His navi, His voice, His indwelling in the Mishkan. 

We no longer live in the Camp in the Wilderness, but we do still dwell alongside these great unknowns. This Shavuos let us reflect on the significance of such a life - one devoted to maximizing each of our potentials as a knowledge-seeking being, with full awareness of the limits of our knowledge. 

The Limits of she'Lo Lishmah

This post is predicated on a basic familiarity with the two levels of doing a mitzvah or learning Torah: lishmah (for its own sake) and she'lo lishmah (not for its own sake). The Rambam defines these two terms in his introduction to Perek Chelek. If you haven't yet read his discourse on this topic, or if you need a refresher, I advise you to check out the translation I posted here before reading this post.

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Artwork: Seedtime, by Rebecca Guay
(I used this here because it's how I picture "the pampered women of Machoza")

The Limits of she'Lo Lishmah

The Question

The highest level of learning Torah and doing mitzvos is lishmah. Nevertheless, Chazal urged us to be involved in Torah and mitzvos even she'lo lishmah. Why? Because "mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah - from she'lo lishmah, one will come to lishmah." [1]

A couple of years ago my chavrusa and I took up the question: What are the limits of she'lo lishmah? How far removed from "the ideal motives" for Torah and mitzvos would still be considered she'lo lishmah such that the aforementioned statement of Chazal would apply?

The examples of she'lo lishmah in the Rambam's parable are fairly straightforward:

• learning Torah in order to get a piece of candy or a fig
• learning Torah in order to get a fancy pair of shoes or item of clothing
• learning Torah in order to get money
• learning Torah in order to become a rabbi who receives honor from other people

In all four cases the student is learning Torah in order to obtain some good other than the learning itself. Presumably, the child is aware that he is learning Torah, and that learning Torah is a mitzvah, but he is simply not motivated by the learning itself. It's easy to see how this type of she'lo lishmah might naturally lead to lishmah, especially when it comes to learning. Doing mitzvos she'lo lishmah is bit trickier, but it's still conceivable that a mitzvah she'lo lishmah would lend itself to development towards lishmah.

But how far can this principle be extended? Compare the Rambam's examples with the following questionable cases:

• Case #1: a person is forced to do a mitzvah without any awareness at all about the nature of what he is doing. For example, imagine an immigrant from a repressive regime who is forced by a Chabad emissary to put on tefillin, and has no idea what's going on because he doesn't speak English and he's neither seen nor heard of tefillin in his life. [Note: for the purposes of this example, and this post, I am assuming we hold "mitzvos ein tzrichos kavanah" ("mitzvos do not require intention") from a halachic standpoint.]
• Case #2: a person has a completely warped notion of the nature of what he's doing. For instance, imagine a person who shakes a lulav believing that he's drawing upon spiritual earth-energy in order to "realign his chakras," or a person who avoids eating non-kosher food because he thinks it will literally kill him. These individuals definitely fulfill their halachic obligations, but will they naturally come to lishmah in the same way as the child in the Rambam's example?
• Case #3: a person does a mitzvah in an entirely incidental or accidental manner, with absolutely no intention for the mitzvah at all. For example, it would be entirely possible for someone who is allergic to gluten to neither eat nor own chametz on Pesach by default, without taking any special effort to do so for mitzvah reasons. It's even easier to observe mishpatim (i.e. mitzvos whose reasons are obvious) out of sheer common sense, without any mitzvah motives whatsoever. Building a maakeh (parapet) around one's roof so people don't fall and injure themselves, helping an elderly person cross the street, using accurate weights and measures, refraining from murder, kidnapping, and lying under oath - there are dozens of mitzvos that people keep every day without any awareness that they're observing halacha. 

Are these cases still within the scope of "mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah" or would we say that although these individuals might fulfill a technical halachic obligation, they would not fall within this category? 

The Indolent Women of Machoza

In searching for an answer to this question, my chavrusa and I stumbled upon an important Gemara which sheds a great deal of light on the topic. The Mishnah in Pesachim 4:1 (50a) states:

In a place where [the people] were accustomed to work on Erev Pesach (Passover eve) until midday, one may do so. In a place where the people were accustomed not to work, one may not do so. 

The Gemara (50b) discusses the parallel halachos (laws) which pertain to the eves and conclusions of other special days:

One who performs labor on Erev Shabbos (Sabbath eve) or Erev Yom Tov from minchah-time onward, and on Motzai Shabbos (the conclusion of the Sabbath), on Motzai Yom Tov, or Motzai Yom ha'Kippurim ... [such a person] will never see a sign of blessing [from this work].

The Gemara then classifies the types of people who receive this aforementioned blessing and those who don't:

The Sages taught [in a Tosefta]: "There is one who is diligent and rewarded; and there is one who is diligent but suffers a loss; there is one who is indolent but rewarded; and there is one who is indolent and suffers a loss. [How so?] 'Diligent and rewarded' is one who works the entire week and does not work on Erev Shabbos. 'Diligent but suffers a loss' is one who works all week and works on Erev Shabbos. 'Indolent but rewarded' is one who does not work the entire week and does not work on Erev Shabbos. 'Indolent and suffers a loss' is one who does not work the entire week and works on Erev Shabbos." 

Rava said: "With regard to those women of Machoza, even though they do not work on Erev Shabbos, it is due to excessive pampering, because they don't work on any other day [either]. Even so, we call them 'indolent but rewarded.'"

Rava brought up a contradiction: "It is written: 'for Your mercy is great unto the heavens' (Tehilim 57:11) and it is [also] written: 'for Your mercy is great above the heavens' (ibid. 108:5). How [can this contradiction be resolved]? [The pasuk which describes His mercy as above the heavens refers to a case where] one does [a mitzvah] lishmah, [whereas the pasuk which describes His mercy as merely reaching the heavens refers to a case where] one does [a mitzvah] she'lo lishmah."  

[This teaching of Rava] accords with what Rav Yehuda said in the name of Rav: "a person should always engage in Torah and mitzvos even she'lo lishmah, because from she'lo lishmah one will come to lishmah."

The salient point here is Rava's statement about the women of Machoza. These "pampered" women never work, and yet the Gemara places them in the category of "indolent but rewarded" for their abstaining from work on Erev Shabbos.

One might read Rava's remark about the women of Machoza as pertaining solely to the passage that preceded it, regarding the fourfold classification of people who are diligent, indolent, rewarded, and who suffer a loss. Rashi, however, connects the women of Machoza case to the statements that follow, regarding the virtue of learning and doing mitzvos she'lo lishmah. Rashi explains:

"indolent but rewarded" is one who didn't work all week and also [didn't work] on Erev Shabbos - and even though they didn't intend [to abstain from work] for the sake of a mitzvah, it is nevertheless a mitzvah she'lo lishmah, as they say later on: "a person should always be involved in a mitzvah even she'lo lishmah."

The Ran echoes this reading of the Gemara in his comments on Rava's explanation of the contradiction in Tehilim:

If you'll pose a challenge from Rav Yehuda himself who said in the Perek Haya Korei (Berachos 17a) about anyone who engages [in a mitzvah] she'lo lishmah that it's better if they were never created. [How can we reconcile Rav Yehuda's condemnation of she'lo lishmah with Rava's approbation of she'lo lishmah in our Gemara?] 

The answer is: there are many types of she'lo lishmah. [Rav Yehuda's statement condemning she'lo lishmah] pertains to those who engage in Torah in order to be contrarian and to provoke: since his intention is for an aveirah (transgression), then it would be better if he were never created. [2] [In contrast, Rava's statement in our Gemara] is dealing with a case in which his intention is neither for a sinful matter nor for a mitzvah, and instead is like that of the indolent person who is rewarded [and thus, like the women of Machoza]. 

According to Rashi and the Ran, the "indolent but rewarded" individuals who abstain from working on Erev Shabbos have absolutely no intention whatsoever to fulfill any mitzvah, but because their laziness just "happens" to result in the observance of a mitzvah [3], then they are rewarded for their she'lo lishmah observance. In other words, the women of Machoza fit perfectly into the Case #3 scenario mentioned above: their actions incidentally align with a mitzvah, even though their motives have nothing to do with Torah whatsoever. Rashi even goes so far as to explicitly state that their she'lo lishmah observance will (or at least can) lead to lishmah.

The question is: How can this be?! Is it really true that these lazy women of Machoza will eventually come around to refraining from work on Erev Shabbos lishmah simply because they kept this mitzvah by default, due to their pampered lifestyle?

Consider, as a sort of thought experiment, two groups within the women of Machoza: those who are Jewish and those who are non-Jewish. The women in both groups are indolent and pampered. Neither group does any work during any day of the week. They just sit there, lounging around, drinking their "Machoza Mimosas" [4] and gossiping about their fancy jewelry and fancy drinking-water. And yet, the Jewish women of Machoza are rewarded for their indolence simply because their lazy behavior coincides with a halacha. How does that make any sense?

A Possible Answer

If memory serves, my chavrusa and I initially arrived at the conclusion that the Gemara must have been assuming that the women of Machoza had at least some awareness of the fact that their abstention from work qualified as a mitzvah. Otherwise, how would it be possible to say that they'd be rewarded for their behavior?

When I revisited the question this year while writing this blog post I realized that our assumption wasn't warranted. We posited this because we felt compelled to by the strength of the question, but a straightforward reading of the Gemara wouldn't naturally lead to this conclusion.

Instead, I would like to answer as follows: even the she'lo lishmah behavior of the women of Machoza can lead to lishmah insofar as it contributes to the observance of that mitzvah as a behavioral habit. Allow me to explain.

My answer was inspired by the Rambam's approach to character development, as presented in Hilchos Deos (Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha'Mada). A full treatment of the Rambam's view is beyond the scope of this blog post. Here is the particular halacha I had in mind:

1:7 - How does a person habituate himself to these character traits until they are firmly established in him? He should do the actions which correspond to these “middle character traits” again, and again, and again, and repeat them constantly until these actions become easy for him without there being any burden in them, and they become firmly established in his soul. 

For example, if a person wants to develop the trait of generosity, he should force himself to repeatedly do acts of generosity (e.g. giving tzedakah to the poor, volunteering at a soup kitchen, donating clothing to those in need) until these actions become second-nature to the point where he can do them naturally, without experiencing any emotional conflict or resistance.

Does the Rambam hold that this is the highest level of ethical development? Not at all. Someone who gives tzedakah lishmah is certainly superior to one who gives tzedakah she'lo lishmah, even though acts of generosity come "easily" for both of them. But from a strictly behavioral standpoint, both of them will be able to do acts of generosity in a manner which is "easy" for them, "without any burden."

This point is even clearer when we consider ethical development in children. Let's use the example of the virtue of gratitude. Imagine two children: one who was raised to say, "Thank you" as soon as she learns to speak, and another who wasn't. At such a young age, it is doubtful whether these children are even capable of understanding what gratitude is. And yet, when these children mature to the point where they can understand what it means to be grateful, which one will have an easier time doing actions which express gratitude? Clearly the child who has already acquired the behavioral habit of demonstrating gratitude by saying, "Thank you." The other child will have to face an uphill battle to become a grateful person even if she intellectually recognizes the value in acquiring that particular virtue.

It is on this basis that I would like to answer the question on our Gemara. The reason why even the women of Machoza's low level she'lo lishmah abstention from work can still be characterized as leading to lishmah is because it contributes to their potential for a lishmah observance. Even though their motives and intentions have nothing to do with the mitzvah, they are nevertheless practicing behavior which is in line with the mitzvah, thereby paving the way for a lishmah observance of the mitzvah by making that observance easier to keep.

Consider another thought experiment: an "indolent but rewarded" woman of Machoza who doesn't work during the week and doesn't work on Erev Shabbos, and a "diligent but suffers a loss" woman of Manhattan who works during the week and works on Erev Shabbos. Imagine that both women decide to become more religious and wish to take on the meritorious practice of not working on Erev Shabbos. Which woman will have an easier time doing so? Clearly the woman of Machoza! Her habit of not working on Erev Shabbos will be a boon for her, even though this habit was initially established out of laziness, and had nothing to do with Torah and mitzvos!

If I am correct, then we need to tweak our understanding of "mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah." This statement does not mean that doing a mitzvah she'lo lishmah will naturally develop a person towards doing that mitzvah lishmah. Rather, it can also mean that doing a mitzvah she'lo lishmah will facilitate the move to lishmah in any way - whether by contributing to a person's development in an active way, or by removing an impediment to their lishmah development.

Thus, the immigrant who is forced to put on tefillin without any knowledge of what he's doing, the lulav-shaking chakra realigner, the person who is allergic to gluten - all three types of cases fit into the category of mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah, insofar as they pave the way for lishmah by removing the behavioral impediments to a lishmah observance of the mitzvah. I like to imagine that the Ran had this in mind when he waved his hand, shook his head, and answered his own question by saying, "Don't worry: there are many types of she'lo lishmah."

Conclusion

I'm sure there is more to explore on this topic, but I think that this idea stands on its own. The take-away lesson is this: don't underestimate the impact of behavioral conditioning in the pursuit of ethical and intellectual perfection. It would be very easy to look down on the women of Machoza - or on the immigrant being wrapped in tefillin [5] without knowledge, or on the lulav-waving chakra charger, or the gluten-free chametz avoider - but according to our Gemara, even these low-level she'lo lishmah types of mitzvah observance lead to lishmah, and should be encouraged and looked upon favorably. Similarly, one should never dismiss or discourage anyone from keeping halacha even if their motives have nothing to do with halacha. Lastly, one should not view this type of she'lo lishmah observance as beneath our own standards, and use this reasoning to rationalize not keeping a particular halacha. No matter how far removed from the Torah's ideals we are, we should always involve ourselves in Torah and mitzvos even she'lo lishmah, because mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah.

When we bear these points in mind, having mercy on the human condition and recognizing how every step forward is significant, no matter how small, we are aligning our own perspective with that of Hashem, "[Whose] mercy is great unto the heavens."

[1] Sanhedrin 105b, Pesachim 50b, Nazir 23b, Sotah 22b and 47a, Horiyos 10b, Erachin 16b - and probably more
[2] An analysis of what it means to learn “lekanter” and why this is an exception to the rule is beyond the scope of this blog post. I have an explanation, but including it would distract us from the topic at hand.[3] Ordinarily I am reticent to broadly apply the term "mitzvah" to all behavior that is sanctioned or encouraged by halacha, and instead prefer to treat it as a technical term referring to a specific commandment from the Torah or the Rabbis. I've decided to make an exception in this case, since the Gemara itself uses the term "mitzvah" to describe what is actually just a meritorious custom, rather than an actual Biblical or Rabbinic commandment.
[4] Let me be the first to reveal the official "Machoza Mimosa" recipe: In a champagne flute, combine 1/3 cup chilled sparkling wine, 1/3 cup chilled orange juice, 1 tablespoon of honey and 1 tablespoon of absinthe, as a kiyum in: "For the lips of a strange woman drop honey, and her mouth is smoother than oil - but her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword" (Mishlei 5:3-4). Yeah, I know that our Gemara doesn't condemn the women of Machoza, and not even Shlomo ha'Melech would consider them to fall into the category of "the strange woman" of Mishlei, but I still think that their "end is bitter as wormwood."
[5] "force-phylacteried" would be the appropriate verb