The Role of Episodic Memory in the Three Weeks and Tishah b'Av

The Torah content for these two weeks has been sponsored by Judah and Naomi Dardik in loving memory of Rabbi Moskowitz zt''l, who taught his students to pursue truth by asking questions, who modeled love of Torah and learning, and who exemplified living a life of the mind.

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Artwork: Memory Leak, by Karl Kopinski

The Role of Episodic Memory in the Three Weeks and Tishah b'Av

Although this is technically 1-page long, I reference a bunch of other articles I’ve written. Ordinarily I wouldn’t rely on the reader’s familiarity with my previous content, nor would I expect them to read it. However, the goal of this article is to capture where my mind is at going into the Three Weeks. Since I find myself picking up where I left off, I have no choice but to reference these past ideas.

We have commenced the three weeks of mourning during which we reflect on the national flaws that led to the destruction of the two Temples and our present exile. Last summer I wrote a 1-page article about how the Three Weeks, the Nine Days, and Tishah b’Av are designed to induce “metaphysical trauma” on a national level. I wrote another 1-page article about how such trauma is necessary for national teshuvah. I wrote a third 1-page article explaining how the Tishah b’Av liturgy is designed to facilitate this type of teshuvah-from-trauma. I concluded by stressing the importance of allowing ourselves to really feel the unpleasant emotions awakened by our reading of Eichah and the kinnos in order to tap into the trauma which will “awaken our hearts and open the paths of teshuvah” (Rambam, Laws of Fasts 5:1).

This year I believe I have found a new way to induce the aforementioned trauma. This past week I wrote an overview of EFT (Episodic Future Thinking) and a follow-up article on how this technique can be integrated with halacha. Towards the end of Chapter 2 of Imaginable (pp.37-38), McGonigal introduces the following thought-experiment:

I want you to try one more time travel experiment with me. Imagination works both ways in time. So let’s take a ten-year trip in the opposite direction … I want you to picture in your mind’s eye a day more or less ten years ago today. Where would you have been on a typical day? What would you have been doing? Can you picture what you might have been wearing? Who were you with? What were you excited about ten years ago? What were you worried about? What life goal were you working toward, or what life problem were you trying to solve?

It might not be easy to recall all these details at first. Keep working at it. Like episodic future thinking, episodic memory also requires you to stretch your imagination – if only because you’re retrieving memories and reactivating thought patterns you haven’t used in a while … At the Institute for the Future, we call this technique “looking back to look forward.” It’s another excellent strategy for unsticking your mind. As the historian and activist Rebecca Solnit has written, “When you don’t know how much things have changed, you don’t see that they are changing or that they can change.”

As is true of all McGonigal’s exercises, the goal here is not to achieve factual accuracy, but to “learn to control your imagination” (p.33). By practicing episodic memory with your actual past, using your imagination to recall those lived experiences in rich detail, you will become proficient in simulating future experiences with a higher degree of realism.

Halacha obligates us to practice episodic memory on at least one occasion: Pesach night. “In each and every generation a person is obligated to see themselves as though they, themselves, left Egypt” (Hagadah). As a source for this injunction, Rambam (Laws of Chametz and Matzah 7:6) cites: “you shall remember that you were a slave” (Devarim 5:14). In other words, we are commanded to remember events that didn’t actually happen to us as if we lived through them. The intellectual objectives of the Pesach seder cannot be achieved without this use of the imagination.

Likewise, the vividly horrific descriptions of the tragic events depicted in Eichah and the kinnos are also designed to facilitate episodic memory – provided we are willing to take that extra step. For instance, instead of merely reading Kinnah #17 and reacting to the depiction of Jewish women being forced to cannibalize their own children, we should use our imagination to simulate what it might be like for us to live through a time of such starvation and desperation that we are forced to engage in the unthinkable. Will this exercise be traumatic? Yes. And that is precisely the point.

The final chapter of Eichah begins with a plea: “Remember, Hashem, what happened to us; look and see our disgrace” (Eichah 5:1). We know that Hashem sees everything and never forgets anything. Thus, when we beseech Him to remember and see, He expects us to do the same. And unless we do so on a visceral level, then we will not be moved to national teshuvah.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

17th of Tammuz Reflections on Waikiki

The Torah content for these two weeks has been sponsored by Judah and Naomi Dardik in loving memory of Rabbi Moskowitz zt''l, who taught his students to pursue truth by asking questions, who modeled love of Torah and learning, and who exemplified living a life of the mind.

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this article, and click here for an audio version.

This is a photo I took of the sunset at Waikiki on the 17th of Tammuz last year.

17th of Tammuz Reflections on Waikiki

I wrote this as a Facebook post during the summer of 2021 (Tammuz 5781) but didn’t post it on my blog until now. I’ve made some changes and additions here and there, but most of the article remains the same.

The 17th of Tammuz is a commemorative day of fasting on which we don't eat or drink anything from dawn until nightfall. This fast kicks off the period of The Three Weeks, during which we mourn the greatest tragedies that have befallen our people. All of these events are centered around the destruction of the two Temples in Jerusalem: the First Temple by the Babylonians in 586 B.C.E., which was followed by the 70 year exile in Babylon, and the Second Temple by the Romans in 70 C.E., which was followed by the present exile, which has lasted for 1,951 years and counting (and now 1,952 years).

I'd have to check past calendars to be sure, but I'm fairly certain that we've spent every 17th of Tammuz for the past 12+ years in Honolulu, with the obvious exception of 2020 (and now, in 2022).

Spending this fast day in Honolulu is always strange. It's strange because I am so far away from any major Jewish community, and it's even stranger because the majority of people I see walking around are in "vacation mode." Yet, here I am, spending most of the day indoors, not eating or drinking, reflecting on the national flaws of myself and my people and the catastrophes that resulted from these flaws throughout the ages. And there, on the beach and in the streets, are the non-Jews: going about their vacation, dining and drinking, dancing and partying. The feeling of being in exile is real.

This year my experience of the 17th of Tammuz was greatly enhanced by my reading of Radical Hope: Ethics in the Face of Cultural Devastation (2006), by Jonathan Lear. The book is about Plenty Coups, the last chief of the Crow Nation, who witnessed the end of his people's way of life, but who was able to lead them to adapt and preserve their culture – something that no other Indian nation was able to do with such great success. I’d like to share just one small insight from this book that was on my mind as I took a walk along Waikiki just now, with a few hours remaining in the fast.

First, some background. The Sun Dance was a religious ritual that was integral to the Crow Nation's warrior culture. It was "a prayer-filled ritual asking for God's help in winning military victory." Lear uses it as an example of the dilemma faced by a people when its way of life suddenly comes to an end. In this case, intertribal fighting had been outlawed. He writes:

What is one to do with the Sun Dance when it is no longer possible to fight? Roughly speaking, a culture faced with this kind of devastation has three choices:

1. Keep dancing even though the point of the dance has been lost. The ritual continues, though no one can any longer say what the dance is for.

2. Invent a new aim for the dance. The dance continues, but now its purpose is, for example, to facilitate good negotiations with whites, usher good weather for farming, or restore health to a sick relative.

3. Give up the dance. This is an implicit recognition that there is no longer any point in dancing the Sun Dance.

I'm currently rereading Hawaii (1959), which is one of James Michener's epic novels. Last night I finished the section entitled "From the Farm of Bitterness," which follows the story of a group of missionaries who settled in Maui in the first half of the 19th century. Already by that time, the native Hawaiians had begun to suffer the destruction of their people and their culture, through death, through assimilation, and through the many abuses and encroachments of settlers, traders, and colonizers.

So much of the Hawaiian tourism industry thrives on tenuous, artificial, and (to be frank) piteous attempts at #1 and #2. For all intents and purposes, there is no actual living Ancient Hawaiian culture left to speak of. The historical Hawaiian culture - which lasted for centuries, if not longer - fell prey to option #3. The pale vestiges of Hawaiian culture I see when I walk down Waikiki are shadows of what was once a vibrant way of life, but are now merely a source of artificial nostalgia for a Hawaii that was never experienced by anyone living. It is sustained only by popular imagination, and funded by commercialism.

But when I step back and look at Waikiki tourism itself – which, in many ways, has become Hawaii's modern culture – I realize that "this, too, shall pass." Ironically, Lear uses something like this as an analogy to illustrate what it means for a way of life to disappear:

Everything in tribal life was organized around hunting and war – but hunting and war have become impossible. There is a crucial ambiguity in this claim that is easily overlooked. When we say "It is no longer possible to go to war" or "It is no longer possible to hunt buffalo" we might mean either:

"Circumstances are such that there is no practical possibility of our performing those acts"

or

"The very acts themselves have ceased to make sense."

By way of analogy, consider a person who goes into her favorite restaurant and says to the waiter, "I'll have my regular, a buffalo burger medium rare." The waiter says, "I'm sorry madam, it is no longer possible to order buffalo; last week you ate the last one. There are no more buffalo. I'm afraid a buffalo burger is out of the question." Now consider a situation in which the social institution of restaurants goes out of existence. For a while there was this historical institution of restaurants – people went to special places and paid to have meals made and served to them – but for a variety of reasons people stopped organizing themselves in this way. Now there is a new meaning to "it is no longer possible to order buffalo": no act could any longer count as ordering. In general these two senses of impossibility are not clearly distinguished because they often go together. In the particular case we are considering, it is in considerable part because the buffalo herds were destroyed – and thus hunting them became impossible in one sense – that the Crow agreed to move onto a reservation and abandon their traditional way of life – and thus hunting them became impossible in this other sense.

When I see the throngs of tourists on Waikiki going to bars, dining in restaurants, luxuriating on vacation, etc. etc. I am struck with the recognition that even this way of life will, one day, fade from existence – along with America as a whole, and possibly even what we call "Western Civilization," provided that the timeline continues for long enough.

And yet, here I am: a Jew in exile, fasting and mourning and reflecting on events that happened thousands of years ago, following laws that have were meticulously observed for many centuries before the first Hawaiians ever set foot on these islands, thinking about myself, my people, and my future through concepts that have been kept alive in generation after generation through constant study and thought. My culture – the culture of Torah – has outlasted Ancient and Modern Waikiki, and will continue to do so for as long as we observe these laws and anchor our existence in these truths and values.

Towards the end of his book, Lear writes:

Plenty Coups had to acknowledge the destruction of a telos – that the old ways of living a good life were gone. And that acknowledgment involved the stark recognition that the traditional ways of structuring significance – of recognizing something as a happening – had been devastated. For Plenty Coups, this recognition was not an expression of despair; it was the only way to avoid it. One needs to recognize the destruction that has occurred if one is to move beyond it. In the abstract, there is no answer to the question: Is the Sun Dance the maintenance of a sacred tradition or is it a nostalgic evasion – a step or two away from a Disneyland imitation of "the Indian"? What is valuable about Plenty Coups's declaration is that it lays down a crucial fact that needs to be acknowledged if a genuinely vibrant tradition is to be maintained or reintroduced. It is one thing to dance as though nothing has happened; it is another to acknowledge that something singularly awful has happened – the collapse of happenings – and then decide to dance.

The mourning practices of the Three Weeks are our way of acknowledging the destruction of our past way of life which centered around the Temple and its service in the Land of Israel over which we were sovereign – not so that we can "move beyond it," but so that we can maintain it until such a time that it can be reintroduced. Unlike Plenty Coups, who had to try to figure out how he was going to save his people and help them to survive and thrive in the world-after-the-destruction-of-the-world, we are not on our own. Hashem has given us the tools, in the Written and Oral Torah, to preserve our way of life despite the horrific catastrophes suffered by our people. He has given us the promise of a future redemption – one which is rooted in the certainty of the mind, rather than the unreliable forces of the psyche and the imagination. And He has protected us in each and every generation against those who seek to annihilate us - a fact to which all of Jewish history bears witness. I cannot help but recall the conclusion of Mark Twain's famous essay, Concerning the Jews:

To conclude. - If the statistics are right, the Jews constitute but one per cent. of the human race. It suggests a nebulous dim puff of star-dust lost in the blaze of the Milky Way. Properly the Jew ought hardly to be heard of; but he is heard of, has always been heard of. He is as prominent on the planet as any other people, and his commercial importance is extravagantly out of proportion to the smallness of his bulk. His contributions to the world's list of great names in literature, science, art, music, finance, medicine, and abstruse learning are also away out of proportion to the weakness of his numbers.

He has made a marvellous fight in this world, in all the ages; and has done it with his hands tied behind him. He could be vain of himself, and be excused for it. The Egyptian, the Babylonian, and the Persian rose, filled the planet with sound and splendor, then faded to dream-stuff and passed away; the Greek and the Roman followed, and made a vast noise, and they are gone; other peoples have sprung up and held their torch high for a time, but it burned out, and they sit in twilight now, or have vanished.

The Jew saw them all, beat them all, and is now what he always was, exhibiting no decadence, no infirmities of age, no weakening of his parts, no slowing of his energies, no dulling of his alert and aggressive mind. All things are mortal but the Jew; all other forces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?

Mark Twain didn't have an answer to this question, but we do. The secret of our immortality is observing the fast of the 17th of Tammuz in Waikiki. The secret of our immortality is "sacrificing" a day of vacation in Hawaii to keep Shabbos. The secret of our immortality is to forego the hundreds of popular restaurants in Honolulu to eat only kosher food. The secret of our immortality is to live by the eternal Torah, to adapt its laws and ideas to the modern world instead of withdrawing from it or assimilating into it.

Lear wrote that "It is one thing to dance as though nothing has happened; it is another to acknowledge that something singularly awful has happened – the collapse of happenings – and then decide to dance." Paradoxically, although it was a day of mourning, my reflections today have filled me with gratitude. I have acknowledged that something singularly awful has happened – yet, I have decided to dance.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

Pinchas / 17th of Tammuz: The Korban Tamid and its Cessation

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Artwork: Through the Breach, by Randy Vargas

Pinchas / 17th of Tammuz: The Korban Tamid and its Cessation 

Introduction 

Yesterday was the 17th of Tammuz. This Shabbos we read Parashas Pinchas. There is one topic which is common to both: the korban tamid (continual daily offering). The Rambam [1] writes: 

On the 17th of Tammuz five things happened: (1) the tablets were broken, (2) the korban tamid ceased from the First Temple, (3) [the walled city of] Yerushalayim (Jerusalem) was breached in the destruction of the Second [Temple], (4) the wicked Apostomos burned a Torah scroll, and (5) he set up an idol in the Sanctuary. 

Of these five, the one which tends to resonate the least is the cessation of the korban tamid. The breaking of the tablets was a dramatic event, signaling the violation of our covenant with Hashem through the worship of the Golden Calf - one of our worst national transgressions of all time. The breach of Yerushalayim is easy to relate to as as tragedy, since it was the step which directly led to the destruction of the Beis ha’Mikdsah (Holy Temple). The evil deeds of Apostomos may not register on the same scale of national catastrophe as the preceding two events, but the act of burning a sefer Torah and setting up an idol in Mikdash evoke visceral reactions. Compared to these four tragic events, the cessation of the korban tamid seems relatively tame. What, exactly, was so bad about this event? 

The appearance of the korban tamid in Parashas Pinchas is rather jolting. Hashem shows Moshe the Land of Israel and informs him of his own impending death. Moshe pleads with Hashem to choose a successor to lead the people. Hashem instructs him to appoint Yehoshua. The passing of the mantle of leadership takes place in a dramatic public assembly featuring a pageantry rich in the symbolism of transition. And then, without warning, Hashem tells Moshe to command the Children of Israel in the mitzvah of the korban tamid. It is quite the non sequitur. 

The aim of this article is to address both issues: to understand what it is about the cessation of the korban tamid which warrants a national mourning on par with the other four tragedies, and to explain the Torah’s abrupt transition from the narrative of Yehoshua’s succession to the laws of the korban tamid. Lastly, we will take a first step in defining a theme which unites all five of the occurrences we commemorate on the 17th of Tammuz and suggest on that basis a possible avenue for national teshuvah we can engage in this year.

The Maimonidean Function of the Korban Tamid 

The Rambam [2] famously (or infamously) held that the purpose of all korbanos (sacrifices) is to counteract the yetzer ha’ra (evil inclination) for avodah zarah (idolatry). His theory is quite polarizing, to say the least. Some meforshim (commentators) vehemently oppose his view, such as the Ramban [3], who denounces the Rambam’s explanation as “foolish words" which "make the altar of Hashem disgusting.” Others embrace the Rambam’s view in a manner which “is even more Maimonidean than Maimonides,” [4] such as Ibn Kaspi [5], who boldly asserts that “Moshe Rabbeinu was forced and compelled against his will to write [the detailed laws of korbanos in Sefer Vayikra] … but the customs of the non-Jews at that time brought them to this.” 

While the Rambam’s view of korbanos as a whole is a subject of controversy, there is a distinctly Maimonidean dimension to the korban tamid which is undeniable. The Torah’s exposition of the laws of the korban tamid begins as follows: “Command the Children of Israel and say to them: My offering, My food for My fires, My satisfying aroma, you shall safeguard it to offer to Me in its appointed time” (Bamidbar 28:2). From here the Sages derive a universal halacha in korbanos known as muktzeh (lit. “set aside”). If an animal is used in a ceremony of avodah zarah, that animal becomes prohibited to be offered as a korban to Hashem. The Gemara (Temurah 29a) spells out how this halacha is derived from the pasuk: 

“You shall safeguard it to offer to Me in its appointed time” [implies] “to Me” but not to another master. And who is this other [master] to whom one might offer? This is avodah zarah.” 

This Gemara explicitly ties the korban tamid to the rejection of avodah zarah. Some argue that the derivation of the universal law of muktzeh from the korban tamid supports the Rambam’s contention that all korbanos are designed to counteract avodah zarah. This point is debatable, but everyone would agree that the tamid itself embodies this theme – even the Ramban. 

The thematic connection to the rejection of avodah zarah is reinforced by a cryptic Sifri (142): 

“Hashem spoke to Moshe, saying: Command the Children of Israel … My offering, My food …” Why was this said? Because it said: “[May Hashem … appoint a man over the assembly] who shall go out before them and come in before them” (Bamidbar 27:16-17). To what may this be compared? To a king whose wife, before she passed away, charged him regarding her children, saying: “Please take care of my children,” to which the king replied, “Before you charge me regarding my children, charge my children regarding me, so that they do not rebel against me, and so that they do not treat me disgracefully.” So too, Hashem told [Moshe]: “Before you charge Me regarding My children, charge them regarding Me, so that they not treat me disgracefully by exchanging My Glory for foreign gods.” Thus it is said: “For I shall bring them to the Land [… and they shall turn to the foreign gods of the land and serve them etc.”] (Devarim 31:20). Before you charge Me regarding My children, charge them regarding Me. Thus, it is stated: “Command the Children of Israel [in the mitzvah of the korban tamid].” 

What is clear from this Sifri is that the Sages characterized the korban tamid as a safeguard against the pitfall of avodah zarah that would threaten the nation upon entry into the Land of Israel under the leadership of Yehoshua. What is quite unclear is: How? How is the korban tamid a safeguard against avodah zarah? And what does this have to do with Yehoshua?

The answer to this question, and our question about the non sequitur in Parashas Pinchas, is given by the Torah Temimah [6], citing the explanation of the Sifri given by the Malbim [7]: 

The purpose [8] of the tamid is to counteract sun-worship. The idolaters would bow down and worship [the sun] twice each day, upon its rising and its setting. Its morning service would [take place] facing the east, and its afternoon service would [take place facing] the west. [Therefore,] Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu commanded us to offer before Him two daily sacrifices: the slaughtering of the morning [tamid] at the northwest corner [of the altar] and the [slaughtering of] the afternoon [tamid] at the northeast corner, in direct opposition to sun-worship. 

The Sages said that if Moshe had entered the Land [of Israel,] he would have nullified the yetzer for avodah zarah, and the service of the tamid would have been unnecessary. Since he requested, “May Hashem appoint a man over the assembly,” and Yehoshua was appointed to wage wars, and he lacked the power to nullify the yetzer for avodah zarah, therefore Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu instructed Moshe to charge His children to not exchange His Glory for foreign gods and to not worship the sun, as the gentile nations did. And it is for this purpose that the section of the tamid was commanded, namely, as a polemic against avodah zarah. 

According to Sifri, as interpreted by the Torah Temimah and the Malbim, identity of the korban tamid is so essentially tied to the repudiation of avodah zarah that its very structure is designed to be the antithesis of sun-worship, which was popular among the Canaanite nations. When the sun rises in the east, and the sun-worshippers bow eastward, we turn our backs on the sun and offer the morning tamid to Hashem, facing west. When the sun begins to set in the west and the sun-worshippers turn with it, we demonstrate our rejection of their cult and their god by offering the afternoon tamid in the east. 

The placement of this topic in Parashas Pinchas is explained based on the notion that avodah zarah would have been totally eradicated under Moshe Rabbeinu’s leadership, thereby rendering the korban tamid unnecessary. But since Moshe would not enter the Land, and Yehoshua would not be capable of eliminating the drive towards avodah zarah on his own, he would need to wage a continual war against avodah zarah – a war whose constancy was represented by the korban tamid, which also functioned as a weapon in the battle. 

The Tragedy of the Cessation of the Tamid 

In light of this explanation, we are now in a position to understand the tragedy of the cessation of the korban tamid. It is well-known that one of the primary national sins which resulted in the destruction of the first Beis ha’Mikdash was avodah zarah. The first crack in the edifice of the United Kingdom of Israel arose from the introduction of avodah zarah into the Land, chiefly through the idolatrous marriages and alliances of Shlomo ha’Melech. The destruction and exile of the Northern Kingdom of Israel came about from the avodah zarah introduced by the king Yeravam ben Navat via his Golden Calves. The decree of destruction and exile of the Southern Kingdom of Yehudah was sealed by the evil king Menashe, who spread avodah zarah so far and wide that he nearly drove Judaism to utter extinction. All of the prophets who prophesied about the destruction of the Beis ha’Mikdash, from Yeshayahu to Yirmiyahu, routinely rebuked the Jewish people for their attachment to avodah zarah. 

When viewed merely as a “ritual sacrifice,” the korban tamid is the most mundane of them all. But when viewed through the lens of the foregoing analysis, the korban tamid is emblematic of the daily national battle against the yetzer ha’ra for avoadah zarah. The specific form of avodah zarah it is designed to counteract underscores the enormity of this battle. Every morning the sun rises and sets, illuminating the earth and sustaining its life, and humanity faces the question: Will you regard the sun as an independent source of power worthy of veneration and worship, or will you recognize it as an expression of the laws of nature authored by the One Creator of the Heavens and the Earth, and submit yourself to His will by serving Him, as does the sun itself? 

Thus, the cessation of the korban tamid on the 17th of Tammuz represents the collapse of the final bulwark against avodah zarah – the dam that held back the powerful forces of avodah zarah that had been erected by Moshe at the very inception of the Israelite conquest, and had continued to lend their stalwart defenses as the nation sunk further and further into idolatry. But finally, on the 17th of Tammuz, the last vestiges of Moshe’s ward [9] gave way. The korban tamid’s metaphysical fortification was breached just like the walls of Yerushalayim, and the long battle was lost, leaving countless casualties in its wake. 

The Beginnings of a Unified Theory of the 17th of Tammuz 

I haven’t fully worked it out yet, but I do believe that this opens up a path to understanding the unity of the five events we commemorate on the 17th of Tammuz. I would like to propose that the theme of the 17th of Tammuz in the infiltration of avodah zarah into our avodas Hashem (service of God). Let us see how this theme is reflected in each of the five events. 

Why did Moshe break the tablets? Because he saw that the nation he had led out of Egypt was still attached to their avodah zarah ways. For this reason, they were not worthy of receiving the Torah, since their involvement in avodah zarah was tantamount to a rejection of the entire Torah. [10] Despite their witnessing of Hashem’s defeat of the idolatrous Egyptian empire, their redemption through miraculous signs and wonders, and their experiencing of the Divine Revelation at Har Sinai, the insidious lure of avodah zarah still managed to retain its hold, and the original covenant they made with Hashem was rendered null and void. 

The relationship of avodah zarah to the cessation of the korban tamid has been sufficiently explained: the korban tamid was designed to function as an inoculation against avodah zarah, and its cessation represented the culmination of avodah zarah’s conquest of the nation. 

The breach of the walls of Yerushalayim has also been explained: Yerushalayim and Bayis Rishon (the First Temple) were destroyed for the sin of avodah zarah. (And if you’ll object, saying: “Doesn’t the 17th of Tammuz commemorate the breach of the walls of Yerushalayim in Bayis Sheini?” then feel free to read this extensive footnote.[11]) 

Lastly, the two wicked deeds of Apostomos epitomize the infiltration of avodah zarah into our avodas Hashem: (a) he burned the Torah, a system whose essence is to uproot avodah zarah, and (b) Apostomos, who was an idolater himself, literally infiltrated the Beis ha’Mikdash, which is the makom avodas Hashem (place of Divine service) par excellence, and set up an actual idol of avodah zarah there. It is impossible to conceive of something that represents the theme of “infiltration of avodah zarah into our avodas Hashem” greater than that! 

What is the significance of this as the unified theme of the 17th of Tammuz? The answer lies in the purpose of all national fast days, as the Rambam writes: 

There are days on which all of Israel fasts because of the catastrophes that occurred on them, in order to awaken the hearts [of the people] and to open the paths of teshuvah (repentance). This will be a remembrance of our corrupt actions and the corrupt actions of our fathers that were like our actions today, which ultimately reached the point that [these corrupt actions] caused these catastrophes for them and for us. Through the remembrance of these things we will return to do good, as it stated, “they will confess their sins and the sins of their fathers” (Vayikra 26:40). 

All of our fast days revolve around the destruction of the first and second Mikdash, and a recognition that we are still in exile awaiting the ultimate redemption and the building of the third and final Mikdash. Why are we still in exile? Why don’t we have our makom avodas Hashem? Because the yetzer ha’ra for avodah zarah is alive and well. It has infiltrated our ranks and has permeated our avodas Hashem just as it did with our ancestors. The threat of the yetzer avodah zarah looms so large, and is such an obstacle to the rehabilitation necessary to be worthy of the final redemption, that the Sages instituted a day of national teshuvah devoted specifically to this theme. The first step in on the road to our national recovery is to recognize the problem which led to our downfall in the first place, and until we do that, then we shall remain in exile. 

One last question: How is the yetzer ha'ra for avodah zarah still alive and well? Is the korban tamid even relevant anymore? Do people still worship the sun? Do people bow down to it and ascribe supernatural power to it? That is the question which must be answered by each of us when we engage in national teshuvah. There is much to say, but the best kind of teshuvah starts with individual introspection. 

I will end by mentioning one possibility. We are currently in the midst of a unprecedented pandemic. As of the writing of this article there have been 12.3 million confirmed cases and over 557,000 deaths worldwide. We have seen the structures of our society crumbled around us, and scores of individuals, communities, and nations have been pushed to the brink. Many of us have faced a greater degree of insecurity than at any other time in our lives, and the future has never been more uncertain.

We may not worship the sun as an entity of independent power - but how many people have we seen over the course of this pandemic relate to other elements of nature in a similar manner? Have we progressed beyond the primitive mentality of helplessly flailing in a storm of terrifying forces and truly acknowledged that nature and all of its elements operate in accordance with the will and wisdom of the Creator? Have we followed the implications of this realization by recognizing that this same Creator gave us His Torah, and commanded us to keep it? Have we truly accepted the fact the universe He created and the Torah He has given us are good, and that we can partake of this good by aligning ourselves with His will? 

These are the questions we must ask in order to engage in national teshuvah. As long as the worship of the sun, the stars, and the heavenly forces is still practiced among the Jewish people - whether in its original primitive form, or in its sublimated modern form - then the catastrophe of the 17th of Tammuz will continue to ripple through time. May Hashem speedily fulfill what Zechariah prophesied: 

"Thus said Hashem, Master of Legions: The fast of the fourth [month, of Tammuz], the fast of the seventh [month, of Tishrei], and the fast of the tenth [month, of Teves] will be to the House of Yehudah for joy and for gladness and for happy festivals. [Only] love truth and peace!" (Zechariah 8:19)

Footnotes

[1] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Mishneh Torah: Sefer Zmanim, Hilchos Taaniyos 5:2 

[2] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Moreh ha’Nevuchim 3:32 

[3] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides) Commentary on Sefer Vayikra 1:9 

[4] Credit for this phrase goes to my high school principal, who used it in reference to the Ralbag. 

[5] Rabbeinu Yosef ibn Kaspi, Commentary on Vayikra 1:1. The Ibn Kaspi goes even further than that, and refrains from writing commentary on all the sections of Vayikra which deal with korbanos! And yes, I realize that I’ve just committed a “Rishonic hit-and-run,” and I intend to follow this up with its own post at some point in the future. 

[6] Rav Baruch ha'Levi Epstein, Torah Temimah: Sefer Bamidbar 28:2, footnote 2 

[7] Rav Meir Leibush ben Yechiel Michel (Malbim), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 28:2; the Torah Temimah’s citation of the Malbim is near verbatim, but I’ve decided to use his instead of the Malbim’s because the language is slightly more concise. 

[8] lit. “the tamid came to counteract sun-worship.” I didn’t like this literal translation because it sounds too much like, “Don’t ride a horse on Shabbos because you might come to break off a branch!” 

[9] Get it? “Ward” means “protection” but it also refers to a minor under the care of an adult – a subtle nod to the analogy in the Sifri about charging a parent to protect their children. I felt compelled to point that out. 

[10] See my (unfinished) analysis of Rashi’s interpretation of the breaking of the tablets: https://kolhaseridim.blogspot.com/2016/07/17th-of-tammuz-breaking-of-tablets.html

[11] It is true that the 17th of Tammuz commemorates the breach of Yerushalayim during Bayis Sheini, not Bayis Rishon. In fact, we know when the when the walls of Bayis Rishon were breached because it’s stated openly in the pesukim: “On the 9th of the month [of Tammuz] the famine was strong in the city and there was no bread for the people of the land. The city was breached, and all the men of war [fled] during the night” (II Melachim 25:4; see also Yirmiyahu 52:6-7). 

Why, then, do we fast on the 17th of Tammuz instead of the 9th? Why not commemorate the breach of the walls in Bayis Rishon? The answer, according to some, is that we used to observe this fast day on the 9th of Tammuz, and it was subsequently changed to the 17th after the destruction of Bayis Sheini. The Lechem Mishneh (on Hilchos Taaniyos 5:2) explains: 

Even though the fast in the pasuk, “the fast of the fourth [month],” refers to the 9th [of Tammuz], since the city was breached on the 9th, nevertheless, we now observe it on the 17th because the destruction of Bayis Sheini was worse, and the walls of the city [then] were breached on the 17th. And if you’ll [object] saying that we observe the 10th of Teves because the King of Bavel besieged Yerushalayim during the destruction of Bayis Rishon, but we should have changed it to the day that the city was besieged during Bayis Sheini, since it was worse – the answer is that our case is different, since everything happened on one month and it’s not a big deal to change [the observance of the fast] from the 9th to the 17th, but in there [in the case of the two sieges] the times are spread apart. 

Thus, it turns out that the fast day we observe on the 17th of Tammuz is essentially about the breach of the walls of Yerushalayim per se – not about the breach of the walls during Bayis Sheini specifically, the exclusion of Bayis Rishon. Hence, my comment in the body of the article that the theme of the day is the infiltration of avodah zarah into our avodas Hashem, which is reflected in the destruction of Bayis Rishon on account of avodah zarah. 

[12] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Mishneh Torah: Sefer Zmanim, Hilchos Taaniyos 5:1 

17th of Tammuz 5779: Sforno - On the Breaking of the Tablets

Technically speaking, this post can be thought of as the completion of 17th of Tammuz: The Breaking of the Tablets (Unfinished). As it so happens, I completely forgot about that unfinished post when I set out to write this one! That's why I decided to make this a standalone. Perhaps it would have led elsewhere if I wrote it as the completion of the unfinished one, but for now, I'm happy I got the main idea down in writing in some form. 

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Artwork: Karmic Justice, by Ray Lago

17th of Tammuz 5779: Sforno - On the Breaking of the Tablets

Commemorating the Breaking of the Luchos

The mishnah in Taanis 4:6 (Taanis 26a) lists five events which we commemorate by fasting on the 17th of Tammuz:

1. the breaking of the Luchos (i.e. the stone tablets that Moshe Rabbeinu received at Sinai) 
2. the cessation of the tamid (i.e. the daily sacrifice) in the first Mikdash (Holy Temple) 
3. the breaching of the city of Jerusalem prior to the destruction of the second Mikdash
4. the burning of a Torah scroll by Apostomos (a Greek official) during the second Mikdash era
5. the setting up of an idol in the Mikdash 

This year when I sat down to learn about the 17th of Tammuz, I found myself bothered by Event #1 the most. Events #2-5 are all related to the Churban ha'Bayis (destruction of the Temple) in some way, but the breaking of the Luchos doesn't quite seem to jive with the others. The basic question is: Why do we commemorate this particular tragedy with an annual taanis tzibur (communal fast) along with the other four events? Does it share any thematic connection with them at all, or do we commemorate it now simply because it happened on the same calendar date? [1]

Even if we can't answer that question, we at least need to answer the most basic question: What insight are we supposed to get out of commemorating this event? The purpose of these annual commemorative fasts is to promote national teshuvah (repentance), as the Rambam explains in Hilchos Taaniyos 5:1:

There are days on which all of Israel fasts because of the catastrophes that occurred on them, in order to awaken the hearts [of the people] and to open the paths of teshuvah. This will be a remembrance of our corrupt actions and the corrupt actions of our fathers that were like our actions today, which ultimately reached the point that [these corrupt actions] caused these catastrophes for them and for us. Through the remembrance of these things we will return to do good, as it stated, “they will confess their sins and the sins of their fathers” (Vayikra 26:40).

What national cheit (sin) led to the breaking of the luchos, which is still extant in our nation today? 

Why Moshe Broke the Luchos

If you ask the average Jew why Moshe broke the luchos, they'll probably say: "Because of the Cheit ha'Eigel (Sin of the Golden Calf)." Although this answer isn't false, the truth is a bit more complicated than that. Let's review the pesukim in Shemos 32 about the Cheit ha'Eigel:

Hashem spoke to Moshe: "Go, descend - for your people that you brought up from the land of Egypt has become corrupt. They have strayed quickly from the way that I have commanded them. They have made themselves a molten calf, prostrated themselves to it, and sacrificed to it, and they said, 'This is your god, O Israel, which brought you up from the land of Egypt.'" 

Hashem said to Moshe, "I have seen this people, and behold! it is a stiff-necked people. And now, desist from Me, Let My anger flare up against them, and I shall annihilate them; and I shall make you a great nation."

Moshe then davens for Klal Yisrael, and is successful: 

Hashem reconsidered regarding the harm that He declared He would do to His people.  

Moshe turned and descended from the mountain, with the two Tablets of the Testimony in his hand, Tablets inscribed on both their sides; they were inscribed on one side and the other. The Tablets were God's handiwork, and the script was the script of God, engraved on the Tablets. 

Yehoshua heard the sound of the people in its shouting, and he said to Moshe, "The sound of battle is in the camp!" [Moshe] said, "Not a sound of shouting strength nor a sound shouting weakness; a sound of distress do I hear!"  

It happened as he drew near the camp and saw the calf and the dances that Moshe's anger flared up. He threw down the Tablets from his hands and shattered them at the foot of the mountain.

Interestingly enough, it was not the Cheit ha'Egel itself which angered Moshe and moved him to shatter the Luchos. When he was first informed by Hashem of Bnei Yisrael's cheit, Moshe didn't get angry. When he and Yehoshua heard the sounds of Bnei Yisrael's shouts in the camp, Moshe still didn't get angry. It was only when "he drew near the camp and saw the calf and the dances" that Moshe became enraged and that is when he broke the Luchos. The question is: What was it about the dancing that caused him to respond in this manner?

The Sforno offers an explanation which answers our particular question on Shemos and provides insight into what we are fasting about on the 17th of Tammuz:

When [Moshe] saw that they rejoiced in their disgrace - similar to, "when you do evil then you rejoice" (Yirmiyahu 11:15) - this angered him and he despaired that he would be able to repair the crooked in a manner that they would return to their [former] perfection and be worthy [to receive] those tablets.

The Radak, commenting on the pasuk from Yirmiyahu cited by the Sforno, explains the phrase "when you do evil then you rejoice" to mean that "you lack shame and contrition."  

According to the Sforno, Moshe did not get angry at Bnei Yisrael for the Cheit ha'Egel per se, as we noted in our reading of the pesukim. Rather, he got angry when he saw their shameless joy in their transgression, which revealed that they were beyond the point of teshuvah. That is why he broke the Luchos.

In order to appreciate Moshe's seeming change of attitude upon seeing the dancing, we need to understand why the Cheit ha'Egel itself didn't elicit an angry response from Moshe. The Rav (Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik), in his famous shiur On Leadership, provides some context for understanding Moshe's initial take on the Cheit ha'Egel:

The making of the Egel was the result of great primitive fright. The people thought that Moshe was died, they were afraid of the desert, they did not know what the future held in store for them, they were simply overwhelmed by a feeling of loneliness and terror, consequently, they violated the precept of Avodah Zarah (idolatry). There were mitigating circumstances - they wanted the golden calf to substitute for Moshe, as all the Rishonim (medieval commentators) say. 

This would explain why Moshe didn't become enraged when he first learned of the Cheit ha'Eigel. Bnei Yisrael's transgression, though egregious, was not an outright rebellion, but rather a severe lapse of judgment triggered by a national panic. The people were overwhelmed by extreme fear which caused them to temporarily revert back to the primitive religiosity that had been instilled during the Egyptian Exile. 

At least, that's what Moshe thought when Hashem informed him of their cheit. But when he witnessed the dancing, and saw that they related to the worship of the Eigel not in the manner of a scared child clutching a talisman, but in the manner of a wild reveler indulging in an unbridled pagan orgy - at that moment he knew that complete national teshuvah would be an impossible task. This wasn't a brief and temporary regression to an infantile mentality. The joyous dancing was evidence that these were people "who speak of evil as good and of good as evil" (Yeshayahu 5:20), whose obstinacy would doom the nation from the start. [2]

To illustrate this point using a loose analogy: there is a difference between a recovering drug addict who, in a moment of weakness, caves to his craving and relapses, in shame and in private, and a recovering drug addict who joyously leaps off the wagon and throws a drug-fueled house party with music and dancing. Moshe assumed that he would encounter the former, and was shocked to discover the latter.

17th of Tammuz in a New Light

Thanks to the Sforno, we now have a better understanding of the tragedy of the breaking of the Luchos. We aren't just mourning the fact that Bnei Yisrael engaged in avodah zarah so soon after Yetzias Mitzrayim, nor are we just mourning the fact that we lost the symbol of the covenant that Hashem made with us at Sinai (i.e. "the marriage contract" as it were). We are mourning the first time that we, as a nation, reached a point of no return in our degree of transgression. This was the first time that we had become so entrenched in our warped mentality and value system that we actually rejoiced in our degradation. This same phenomenon would occur twice more, in what would prove to be a far more disastrous fashion, in the long series of national iniquities which brought about the destruction of the first and second Beis ha'Mikdash. 

I don't know whether this explanation is sufficient to unify all five events commemorated by the 17th of Tammuz, but at least it gives us something new to reflect on when observing this taanis tzibur. The Jews who worshipped the Eigel crossed a critical threshold in their level of corruption, and we are just as susceptible. Are we close to that point now? Have we already reached it? These are the types of questions we must ask of ourselves as a nation on the 17th of Tammuz. 

[1] I also have a minor question. Maybe it's not even a question, but just something that bothers me. I am 99% certain that the fast of the 17th of Tammuz wasn't instituted until after the destruction of the first Beis ha'Mikdash - an event that took place over 700 years after the breaking of the Luchos. Apparently, the tragedy of the Luchos was not sufficient in and of itself to warrant its own taanis tzibur. If the Beis ha'Mikdash had never been destroyed, we wouldn't observe a commemorative day of mourning for the breaking of the Luchos at all. In this sense, it seems like commemorating the breaking of the Luchos is an afterthought to the essential tragedies associated with Churban ha'Bayis. This just strengthens the question of why we fast for the breaking of the Luchos in the first place.

[2] Rav Hirsch provides a similar explanation of Moshe breaking the Luchos, but with a different emphasis - different enough that I didn't want to include it in the main body of the post, but similar enough that I wanted to at least share it in a footnote. He writes:

As long as pagan delusions, no matter what their form, are based merely on intellectual error and remain confined to the intellect, there is always hope that error will give way to enlightenment, that delusion will give way to truth, and that those afflicted by such notions will readily change for the better. 

Not so, however, when pagan delusion goes beyond intellectual error and corrupts people's character and conduct, and licentiousness is openly worshipped upon the altar of falsehood. In that case, sensuality clings to the roots that offer it such welcome nourishment. Just as it is the character of people sunk in moral corruption, and also difficult to enlighten them.

As long as Moshe knew only of the calf and its deification, he still hoped that he would be able to establish a pure home for the Torah among the people. Hence, when he descended the mountain, he took with him the Testimony of the Torah. But when he saw the calf and the dancing, he realized that the pagan error had already borne its usual fruit - the unleashing of sensuality. He then understood that the nation would have to be re-educated, for the sake of this Torah. So, without hesitation, with both his hands - yadav, the unified plural - he threw down the Tablets and shattered them. By this act he declared in no uncertain terms that the people in its present state was unworthy of the Torah and not fit to receive it.