Devarim: Deserving Israel is Not Enough

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Disclaimer: this article is not intended to reflect any particular political stance on Israeli policy. 

Devarim: Deserving Israel is Not Enough 

Many Jews feel that we are entitled to take possession of the Land of Israel because it was promised to the Avos (i.e. Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov) as an inheritance to their offspring (i.e. us). While this is true, it is only half of the truth. The mere fact that the Land of Israel was promised to the Avos is not, in and of itself, a sufficient reason to justify our conquest of it. There is another consideration which is explicitly stated in the contract made by Hashem when He promised Avraham the Land. 

But let us start with our parashah. Much of Parashas Devarim is a recap of Bnei Yisrael’s journey through the Wilderness. Chapter 1 recounts the first part of the journey, from Sinai until the Sin of the Spies. Chapter 2 skips ahead 39 years to the events that were detailed at end of Sefer Bamidbar, as Bnei Yisrael began their conquest of the nations that lived in and around Israel. Moshe Rabbeinu recalls Hashem’s instructions regarding our interactions with these nations, beginning with the children of Eisav who occupied the land of Seir: 

Hashem said to me, saying … “You shall command the people, saying: ‘You are passing through the boundary of your brothers, the children of Eisav, who dwell in Seir; they will fear you, but you should be very careful. You shall not provoke them, for I shall not give you of their land even the right to set foot, for I have given Mount Seir as an inheritance to the children of Eisav.” (Devarim 2:2-5) 

Next, Moshe recounts a similar set of instructions regarding the Moabites and their land: 

Hashem said to me: “You shall not distress Moav and you shall not provoke war with them, for I shall not give you an inheritance from their land, for the children of Lote have I given Ar as an inheritance.” (ibid. 2:9) 

Likewise, regarding the Ammonites and their land: 

Hashem spoke to me, saying: “This day you shall cross the border of Moav, at Ar, and you shall approach opposite the children of Ammon; you shall not distress them and you shall not provoke them, for I shall not give any of the land of the children of Ammon to you as an inheritance, for to the children of Lote have I given it as an inheritance.” (ibid. 2:17-19) 

Finally Bnei Yisrael reach a people and a land that they are commanded to conquer: 

“Rise up and cross Amon Brook; see! Into your hand have I delivered Sichon, king of Cheshbone, the Amorite, and his land; begin to possess it, and provoke war with him. This day I shall begin to place dread and fear of you on the peoples under the entire heaven, when they hear of your reputation, and they will tremble and be anxious before you.” (ibid. 2:24-25) 

At first glance one might think that Bnei Yisrael were enjoined to conquer Sichon’s land because, unlike the lands of Eisav, Moav, and Ammon, the land of the Amorites had not been apportioned to them as an inheritance, and was therefore “free” for the taking. The Ralbag [1] dispels this notion: 

Our inheritance of the Land [of Israel] requires two conditions: one is the merit of the Jews, and the second is the wickedness of those nations, that their iniquity must be “full,” as we explained regarding the statement: “for the iniquity [2] of the Amorite is not full” (Bereishis 15:16).

The Ralbag is referring to the condition explicitly stated by Hashem in the Bris Bein ha’Besarim (The Covenant Between the Parts) when He promised to Avraham that his descendants would return to inherit the Land of Israel four generations after their sojourn in Egypt: 

And He said to Avram: “Know with certainty that your offspring shall be strangers in a land not their own, and they will serve them, and they will oppress them for four hundred years. But also the nation that they will serve I shall judge, and afterwards they will leave with great wealth. As for you: you shall come to your ancestors in peace; you shall be buried in a good old age. And the fourth generation shall return here, for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full until then.”

The Chazkuni [3] understands this last clause to be an answer to a question that Avraham might have asked: “Why will my offspring need to wait for four generations to inherit the Land? Why can’t they inherit the Land immediately?” The answer is “for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full until then.” Rashi [4] explains the meaning of this stipulation: 

for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full [enough] to cast them out of their land until that time, because Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu does not punish a nation until its measure is full, as it is said, “according to her measure He contends with her” (Yeshayahu 27:8).

The Radak [5] elaborates: 

for the iniquity of the Amorite shall not yet be full until then – [this means that] the time for the punishment for the iniquity of the Amorite will not yet have arrived, for Hashem (blessed is He) prolongs His anger for the wicked, and there is a set time for everyone: there are some whom He punishes immediately, and others for whom He delays [punishment] for a long time – all in accordance with His wisdom. [In this pasuk] He tells [Avram]: “for the time of the Amorite’s [6] punishment has not yet been completed.”

Indeed, the Ramban [7] goes so far as to posit that this was one of Avraham’s concerns which prompted the Bris bein ha’Besarim in the first place. After initially being told by Hashem: “I am Hashem Who brought you out of Ur-Kasdim to give you this land to inherit it” (Bereishis 15:7), Avram asks: “My Lord, Hashem-Elokim, whereby shall I know that I am to inherit it?” (ibid. 15:8). It is impossible to say that Avram’s question stemmed from a lack of trust in Hashem, since we were told two pesukim earlier: “And he trust in Hashem, and He reckoned it to him as righteousness” (ibid. 15:6). What, then, was the basis of Avram’s question? Ramban answers: 

But Avraham wanted to know with a true knowledge that he would inherit it, and that his sin or the sin of his offspring wouldn’t cause [the promise to not be fulfilled], or perhaps the Canaanites would do teshuvah and [that which was written] would be fulfilled in them: “One moment I may speak concerning a nation or a kingdom, to destroy, demolish, or annihilate [it], but if that nation repents of its evil deed of which I had spoken, then I relent of the harm that I had planned to carry out against it” (Yirmiyahu 18:7).

In other words, Avram asked Hashem, “whereby shall I know that I am to inherit it?” because he was worried about three things: (1) his own sins would cause him to lose the merit by which Hashem’s promise would be fulfilled, (2) the sins of his offspring would cause them to lose the merit by which they would inherit the land, or (3) the Seven Canaanite nations currently occupying the land would do teshuvah, thereby making it impossible for Hashem to give the land to Avraham’s descendants, since it would be unjust to kick a righteous nation out of their land, even in order to give it to someone as deserving as Avraham! Ultimately, Hashem made the Bris Bein ha’Besarim to allay Avraham’s fears [8], but we see from the Ramban’s interpretation of Avraham’s concerns how powerful this principle of Divine justice is! 

The Ralbag invokes this Divine justice to explain why Bnei Yisrael were warned not to wage war with the children of Eisav, Moav, and Amon: 

For this reason you will find that the Torah warned [Bnei Yisrael] not to provoke war with the Children of Eisav, nor with the Children of Ammon and Moav, since He didn’t give them their land as an inheritance, because even though the members of these nations were wicked, their iniquity was not yet “full” [such that they deserved to be driven out of their land and deprived of their inheritance]. However, the iniquity of the Amorite was full, and it is for this reason that they dispossessed Sichon and Og [from their land].

In other words, although the pesukim made it seem that Hashem absolutely forbade Bnei Yisrael to take the lands of Eisav, Moav, and Ammon, the Ralbag learns that this was only because “their iniquity was not yet full.” The implication is that if their iniquity had been full, they would have suffered the same fate as the Amorites, despite having been given their land as an inheritance. 

All of this may seem like ancient history, but I believe that the principle of Divine justice reflected in these pesukim has a significant bearing on our present situation, if not in how we relate to the current non-Jewish occupants of the Land of Israel, than at least in how we view our God-given right to dispossess them. 

As I mentioned at the outset of this post, it is easy to feel that we, as the descendants of the Avos, have an absolute right to take our Land back from those who dwell there. But as we have seen, even after Hashem promised the Land to Avraham, He was still not willing to drive out Amorites and the other Canaanite nations immediately. Only when “their iniquity was full” would they deserve to be kicked out. Only at that point would we be right to claim what He gave us. To displace these nations before their iniquity is full would be unjust. 

Tishah b’Av is next week. We are deep within the period of time when we, as Jews, reflect on the fact that we were exiled from our Land by our enemies. Even today, when the State of Israel exists, we bemoan the fact that we are still in exile, insofar as our Land is occupied by the nations of the world, and Israel is not under Jewish sovereignty. It is easy for us to look at the current occupants of our home and feel that we’re just entitled to kick them out and reclaim what is ours, without considering our own merit or the injustice of driving out another nation. 

When we think about the complicated situation in Israel today, let us remember the two criteria required to take back our land: we must become righteous enough to deserve it, and those we dispossess from their homes must be wicked enough to deserve their fate. 

End Notes

[1] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Devarim, Chapter 2: Toeles #13 

[2] In his actual commentary on Bereishis 15:16 the Ralbag translates “avon” as “punishment” rather than “iniquity,” but I’ve translated it as “iniquity” here to keep the terms consistent with the other meforshim I’ll be citing. 

[3] Rabbeinu Chezkia ben Manoach (Chazkuni), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 

[4] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 

[5] Rabbeinu David Kimchi (Radak), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 15:16 

[6] Many of the meforshim, including the Radak, explain that what is said of the Amorite applies to the other six Canaanite Nations as well, and that the Amorite is singled out because they were the most powerful. 

[7] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 

[8] How, exactly, the Bris Bein ha’Besarim accomplished this is the subject of another article yet to be written.

Parashas Chukas: Divine Justice for Those Under Duress

Technically speaking, this is a sequel to my July 2015 post Parashas Chukas: Overlooking Sacrilegious Speech, but there's no real necessity to read that post before this one. I'll recap the essential points. I gotchu!

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Artwork: Stasis, by Seb McKinnon

Parashas Chukas: Divine Justice for Those Under Duress

A few years ago I wrote a post about the following pesukim in our parashah:

The Children of Israel, the whole assembly, arrived at the Wilderness of Tzin in the first month and the people settled in Kadesh. Miriam died there and she was buried there. There was no water for the assembly, and they gathered against Moshe and Aharon. The people quarreled with Moshe and spoke up, saying, "If only we had perished as our brethren perished before Hashem! Why have you brought the congregation of Hashem to this wilderness to die there, we and our animals? And why did you bring us up from Egypt to bring us to this evil place? - not a place of seed, or fig, or grape, or pomegranate; and there is no water to drink!" (Bamidbar 20:1-5)

I cited the Ralbag, who derives a lesson in middos (ethics) from the fact that Hashem doesn't punish Bnei Yisrael for these sacrilegious statements:

The first lesson we learn [in this section is] in middos, namely, that it is not proper to excessively denigrate a person who makes inappropriate statements at a time of suffering and lack of strength. We see that when Israel suffered greatly because of thirst, and they were afraid they would die because of the severity of their thirst, they said harsh words against Moshe - and yet, we do not find that they were punished for this. Indeed, Hashem (exalted is He) gave them water.

In that post I focused on the Ralbag's categorization of this idea as a lesson in middos. I wrote:

It is important to note that the Ralbag categorizes this lesson as a lesson in middos (character traits) rather than a lesson in deos (knowledge of how Hashem operates). In other words, Hashem's willingness to overlook Bnei Yisrael's inappropriate speech should not be regarded "merely" as some abstract principle of metaphysics. Rather, it should be looked upon as one of Hashem's middos ha'rachamim (merciful modes of behavior), which we are commanded to emulate. 

I went on to explain the implications of this lesson in how we relate to our fellow human beings, with a focus on how I intended to apply this lesson to the complaints of my own students. 

This year, when reviewing the Ralbag, I thought to myself, "What if we did derive a lesson in deos from this incident?" In other words, even though the Ralbag wants us to derive a lesson in middos from Hashem's response to Bnei Yisrael, he's not claiming that Hashem responded this way in order to teach us this lesson in middos. Presumably, Hashem did not consider Bnei Yisrael's improper statements to be a sin worthy of punishment, due to the fact that these statements were made when they were in a state of extreme suffering and weakness. There is a "principle of metaphysics" to be learned here, regarding how Hashem relates to those who deviate from the correct path on account of their state of emotional duress. 

This reminds me of another statement made by the Ralbag, which I wrote about in a post on Parashas Pinchas. The Ralbag explains that even though the Midianites and the Moabites both attempted to entice, harm, and eventually kill Bnei Yisrael, there was a fundamental difference in their motives: the Midianites were motivated by "their evil mentality," whereas the Moabites were only acting in self-defense, out of their fear that Bnei Yisrael would destroy them. The Ralbag derives a similar lesson in Divine judgment from this:

[We learn from here that] if one person is afraid of another, then there is nothing contemptible in him searching for any means by which to save himself. For this reason we find that the Moabites were not punished for enticing the Jews to sin, since the reason for their actions was their fear that the Jews would destroy them, for they were already afraid of Israel, as it is stated, “Moab became very frightened of the people, because it was numerous” (Bamidbar 22:3). For this reason, the Moabites' enticement of Israel to sin was but one of their weapons [of self-defense]. The Midianites, however, were not as afraid, and their intention in following the advice of Bilam was to rebel against Hashem; for this reason, Hashem desired that the Jews take vengeance against them.

Here, too, we have a situation in which a nation (Moav) engages in what would ordinarily be a punishable crime (seducing Bnei Yisrael and trying to destroy them) - yet, Hashem doesn't punish them because their actions stemmed from a state of extreme fear. 

This leads me to wonder: What are the parameters of this principle of Divine mercy for those who act wrongfully due to emotional distress? 

When it comes to halacha, the parameters are clear: "anoos Rachmana patrei" - "those who are in a situation of duress are halachically exempt from punishment." For example, if a woman is raped, then only the rapist is punished - not the victim. If a person is order to commit murder or be killed, then even though the halacha requires that person to give up his life rather than transgress, he is nevertheless not held accountable for committing this capital offense, since he did it under duress. If a person has a mental illness which causes him to violate halacha, then he is not held accountable for those actions that were done under the duress of his mental illness. 

My question is about how Divine mercy relates to people outside of the realm of halacha, in terms of Divine reward and punishment, or the state of the person's soul in Olam ha'ba (the World to Come), or a person's judgment on Rosh ha'Shanah and Yom ha'Kippurim, and other matters such as that. If a human being is in a terrible situation of suffering or fear, and this leads them to say blasphemous things or believe heretical thoughts, it would seem from the Ralbag that they would not be subject to Divine punishment. But how far does this extend? What if this person abandons Judaism altogether? Even worse, what if this emotional distress leads them to convert to a radical sect of Islam, and  commit murder in the name of Allah? How would Divine justice relate to such a person in these cases?

On the one hand, it seems from the Ralbag's cases that such a person would be exempt from Divine punishment. On the other hand, it is difficult to say that the state of this person's soul is on par with the soul of a person who didn't commit these acts. But isn't reward and punishment based, to at least some extent, on the state of a person's soul? This is what makes it a difficult question. 

One might point out the case of tinok she'nishbah bein ha'goyim (a baby that was kidnapped and raised by non-Jews) as a possible source of insight into this matter. The Rambam writes in Hilchos Mamrim 3:3:

But the children of those [Jews] who erred, and their grandchildren whose parents led them astray, and who were born and raised in heresy - they are like a baby that was captured and raised by non-Jews, in their religion, and are considered to be anoos (under duress). And even though [such an individual] heard afterwards that he was Jewish, and he saw Jews and their religion, he is still like an anoos, for he was raised in their error. The same is true of those who cling to the ways of their forefathers who strayed. Therefore, it is proper to bring them back in teshuvah, and to draw them [close] with ways of peace until they return to the strength of Torah, and one should not be quick to slay them [as one would do in the case of the founder of a heretical sect].

Although the Rambam clearly states that a tinok she'nishbah is considered to be anoos, and someone who is raised with heretical beliefs is considered to be "like an anoos," he only talks about how we should relate to such individuals - not how God relates to them, which is what I'm asking about.

I don't have an answer to this question, but I figured I'd raise it here. As the saying goes, "a good question is half of the answer." 

Mishlei 22:22-23 - Stealing from the Poor

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I didn't take this particular picture, but it wouldn't be difficult to do so with all of the opportunities.

Mishlei 22:22-23 - Stealing from the Poor

משלי כב:כב-כג

אַל תִּגְזָל דָּל כִּי דַל הוּא וְאַל תְּדַכֵּא עָנִי בַשָּׁעַר: כִּי ה' יָרִיב רִיבָם וְקָבַע אֶת קֹבְעֵיהֶם נָפֶשׁ:

Mishlei 22:22-23

Do not rob a destitute person because he is destitute, and do not oppress a poor person in the public square, for Hashem will take up their grievance and He will steal the soul of those who steal from them.

The major questions on these pesukim are:

(1) How do we read the "because" in the first clause? There are two ways to read this phrase: "Don't rob a poor person. Why not? Because he is poor." Alternatively: "Are you considering robbing a poor person because he is poor? Don't." In other words, is the "because" introducing an explanation, or is it part of the definition of the case?

(2) Why not? According to our first reading we must translate this into two questions: "How is 'because he is poor' a reason for not stealing from the poor?" and "How does the explanation 'because he is poor' relate to the subsequent explanation 'for Hashem will take up etc.'?" According to our second reading we can ask: "Why would a person think he can/should steal from the poor, and how does 'for Hashem will take up etc.' address this person's mistaken line of reasoning?" 

(3) How will Hashem "take up their grievance" and "steal their souls"? As I've written about before, acts of Hashem in Mishlei are either references to principles of hashgachah pratis (individual divine providence) or to descriptions of hashgachah klalis (natural consequences). In this case, which is it, and how does it work? 

[Time to think! You'll get way more out of this blog post if you work on the pasuk yourself before reading what I have to say. Read on when ready.]

Ordinarily this would be where I present to you my four-sentence summary of the main idea. In this case, I pretty much got my idea straight out of Rabbeinu Yonah, [1] so I'm going to start by presenting a translation of most of his commentary on our pesukim:

Do not rob a destitute person because he is poor - [this means, do not rob a destitute person] on account of his poverty, because you aren't afraid that he'll save the stolen item from your hand.  

and do not oppress a poor person in the shaar - "shaar" is a place where the public gathers ... The explanation of the matter is as follows: even though you have the ability to oppress him in the public square, in plain sight, and he won't [attempt] to save [the stolen item] from your hand, do not oppress him.  

for Hashem will take up their grievance - since they lack the ability to save themselves from their exploiters and oppressors, Hashem will take up their grievance, as it is stated: "He saves the poor person from the one who is stronger than him" (Tehilim 35:10).  

and He will steal the soul of those who steal from them - He will take the soul from the taker who robbed the money, for He will decree the penalty of misah bi'ydei shamayim (death at the hands of heaven) for stealing from a poor person, in contrast to stealing money from other people, because one who steals from the poor - it is as if he stole his life. 

Secondly, because this man [who steals from the poor] has breached [his] fear [of Hashem]: "the scoundrel says in his heart 'there is no god'" (ibid. 14:1; 53:2), and since there are no people to help the poor person, [the thief] has no fear of God before his eyes, imagining in his soul that there is no law and no Judge. Chazal similarly say about the ganav (thief) that he is punished more than the galzan (robber) because he fears people but doesn't fear God. 

My understanding of our pesukim focuses more on Rabbeinu Yonah's second point than his first. Here is my four-sentence summary of the main idea:

There are several reasons why one might be tempted to target a poor person for theft or oppression, even though one wouldn’t target other victims: (1) it is unlikely that the perpetrator will get caught, since people tend not to care or take notice of criminal acts against the poor; (2) it is unlikely that the poor person will retaliate, due to the limitations of his circumstances; (3) it is much easier to bypass the guilt of the crime, due to the relative lack of identification with the victim and the feeling that “he’s not a real person, like I am.” 

However, once a person starts rationalizing acts of theft against the poor, he will be increasingly prone to rationalizing all theft against any victim – beginning with those who share the aforementioned criteria in any measure, and ultimately neglecting these criteria altogether. 

The more one gives in to such rationalizations, the more ambitious and less cautious he will be in his crimes, and eventually, he will target the wrong person – a person who will retaliate, and who will bring him down. 

It is possible that the pasuk uses the broad term “dal” to extend this principle to acts of injustice against any disadvantaged second-class citizen within a given system, such as employers against employees, teachers against students, those who are high up on the social hierarchy against those who are low, adults against non-adults, etc. 

According to this interpretation, there is no need to explain the acts of Hashem in our pesukim as a reference to any sort of miraculous divine intervention on behalf of the poor. Rather, our pesukim are to be understood as Mishleic middah kneged middah (measure for measure), similar to the teaching of Hillel in Avos 2:6: “He also saw a skull floating upon the water and said to it: Because you drowned others, you were drowned; and those who drowned you, will themselves be drowned.”

My decision to write about this pasuk today was occasioned by a real-life crime I witnessed a few days ago. I am currently in Hawaii. Whenever we're here for Shabbos we usually stay in our condo until an hour or two before Shabbos ends, and then we trek down the many flights of stairs to the street level and take a long walk until Shabbos is over. This past Shabbos we finished our walk with some time to spare and decided to sit on a public bench on the Waikiki strip and people-watch until Shabbos was over. This was a very crowded area crawling with tourists, mind you, and most definitely fit Rabbeinu Yonah's description of "shaar" in our pesukim.

Background info: Honolulu has a major homelessness problem. The streets in the city are covered with tents, and even in the more touristy areas of Waikiki - like the place where we are currently situated - there are tons of homeless people walking around, digging through the trash, and lying down on the street. I say "lying down" because sometimes they're asleep and sometimes they're drunk or stoned. (You can tell it's the latter when the police have to come and evict them from these public locations.)

Anyway, we were sitting on this bench near the public walkway and noticed a homeless person lying down (i.e. sleeping/drunk/stoned) on the grass around 30 feet away. We almost missed him because  the green sleeping bag he was covered with blended in with the grass. Right next to his head he had a plastic shopping bag filled with his belongings. Usually the poor people in Honolulu use bags filled with their belongings as a pillow, which is a more effective strategy for protecting valuables, but this guy just had it next to his head.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw what appeared to be a local Hawaiian guy, walking at a fast pace along the public path from West to East, in the direction of all the other pedestrians. He didn't look poor or anything. He had on a pair of board shorts and his bare arms and chest were covered with fancy tattoos. He wasn't carrying any belongings with him (as he would if he were poor). His hair wasn't matted, and his face wasn't dirty. Judging by appearances, he was just a regular local Hawaiian surfer-dude.

Suddenly, surfer-dude veered off the path, walked right up to the poor person, and snatched the bag from behind his head! Without breaking his pace, he rejoined the pedestrian flow, and quickly vanished into the crowd.

Here's a crude map I drew to help you visualize the events.

It took us a few seconds to process what we had seen. I looked at my brother and said, "Did we just witness a theft?" If the poor person had been awake and aware of what was going on, I would have just assumed it was a drug deal - but he clearly wasn't in on this deal. Around ten seconds after the theft, the poor person - either hearing or sensing the disturbance - woke up and started looking around for his bag.

Shortly after witnessing this theft, I had a glimmer of Mishleic intuition, but I didn't remember these pesukim until the next morning. Let's apply our pesukim to this case.

Like I said, surfer-dude appeared to be local, and appeared not to be homeless. If we, as annual visitors to Honolulu, are familiar with certain dynamics of the homeless population, then he, as a local, would be even more so, and it's pretty clear that his act was premeditated. Who knows whether this was his first such theft or his tenth? Either way, his theft was likely motivated and rationalized by the aforementioned criteria: (1) it is unlikely that he'd get caught, since nobody - neither the police, the locals, nor the tourists - would going to stop him from stealing a plastic bag from a homeless guy; (2) it's unlikely that the victim would retaliate, since, in this case, he was sleeping, and wouldn't be aware of the theft until long after the thief fled the scene; (3) and it is easy to bypass the guilt of the crime, since "he's just a bum."

Will the thief feel that "he got away with it"? Yes, especially because he committed this crime in plain view of the public. Will this strengthen his feeling that "there is no law and no Judge"? Yes, regardless of what his conscious morals and ethics are. Will his greed and ambition for "free loot" grow? Yes, regardless of whether this guy's bag was filled with valuables or not. Will all of these feelings embolden him to commit similar acts of theft in the future? Yes, because why should he stop? Will he become less vigilant and more daring with each subsequent act of theft? Yes - it's just human nature. Will he become increasingly willing to rationalize acts of theft beyond the limited parameters of the crime we witnessed? Yes, as Chazal (Shabbos 105b) so aptly said:

For thus is the craft of the yetzer ha'ra (evil inclination): today it tells you, "do this," and tomorrow it tells you, "do that," until [eventually] it tells you "worship avodah zarah (idolatry)." 

It is not too difficult to imagine this guy in the not-so-distant future attempting to steal another bag from a homeless person, or the belongings stored under a beach towel by a beach-going tourist, or an item from a local shop while the owner momentarily looks away. And on that unlucky day, surfer-dude is caught red-handed, and the homeless person stabs him with a knife, or the tourist calls the local police, or the shop-owner's clandestine shop-guard out front grabs him, puts him into a headlock, and then gets him thrown in jail.

This is Mishleic midah kneged midah in action. We live in a world of lawful cause-and-effect, and our own psyche operates by lawful cause-and-effect. Attempt to ignore, neglect, or bypass these divinely authored laws, and it'll only be a matter of time before the consequences catch up to you.

How to Learn Tehilim (Psalms)

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Artwork: Urza's Tome, by Aaron Miller

How to Learn Tehilim (Psalms)

Introduction/Disclaimer

There are books of Tanach (the Bible) with which I am familiar. I know how to learn and teach Sefer Mishlei (The Book of Proverbs). I've had ample experience learning and teaching Sefer Koheles (The Book of Ecclesiastes) and Sefer Iyov (The Book of Job). I have attained a measure of proficiency in parts of Chumash (the Five Books of Moses).

The purpose of this disclaimer is to make it clear that I do NOT claim any expertise in Sefer Tehilim (The Book of Psalms).

Tehilim is the longest book in Tanach. It contains over 2,500 pesukim (verses) in 150 perakim (chapters). Of those 150 perakim, I have only learned a handful in depth. Unlike Mishlei, which I've learned on a weekly basis for the past 17 years, I've only occasionally dabbled in Tehilim. Unlike books such as Koheles, Iyov, and Bereishis (Genesis), which I've taught annually for 5-7 years, I've only really taught Tehilim for one semester. 

So how am I qualified to write a post entitled "How to Learn Tehilim"? Because even though I'm not an expert, and even though I don't necessarily know what I'm doing, I do have an approach. 

My goal in this post is to provide a basic foundation for someone who wishes to begin learning Tehilim. I will present all of tools, strategies, and tips that I, myself, have used in my own learning and teaching of Tehilim. In the next couple of posts I will walk you through two perakim using these methods. 

What Tehilim is About

Tehilim is about Hashem and His relationship with His creation, including - and especially - His relationship with man.

By "man" I mean human beings in general, Bnei Yisrael (the Jewish People) in particular, and the yachid (individual) as well - whether David ha'Melech (King David) in specific, or those who aspire to follow in David's path.

By "relationship between God and His creation" I am referring to both hashgachah pratis (individual divine providence) and hashgachah klalis (the laws of nature). By "His relationship with man" I am referring to how He relates to man, and how man ought to relate to Him - in his thoughts, his emotions, and his actions.

How Tehilim Works

But when I say that Tehilim is "about" God's relationship to His creation etc., I do not mean that it should be treated as a textbook of philosophy, metaphysics, or science. Although Tehilim does contain deep concepts and profound insights about Hashem and His ways, the purpose of the sefer is not merely to convey knowledge to the mind, but to affect the emotions as well. This, in turn, will change the way a person experiences and lives his life, and will ultimately change the manner in which Hashem relates to him. 

I wrote another post entitled How to Say Tehilim for the Sick Without Violating Halacha, in which I cited the Sefer ha'Chinuch's [1] explanation of how the recitation of Tehilim can protect a person from harm. His view reflects the approach described above:

... these psalms contain words that inspire the soul that knows them to shelter in Hashem, to take security in Him, to establish a reverent fear of Him firmly in his heart, and to rely on His kindness and goodness; as a result of this inspiration, he will be protected from every harm, without a doubt. 

The phrase "inspires the soul that knows them" perfectly encapsulates how Tehilim is supposed to work. But isn't just any inspiration, but "this inspiration" - the inspiration of "the soul that knows [the meaning of the psalms]." Inspiration divorced from knowledge is insufficient, and knowledge devoid of inspiration also falls short of the mark. The goal of Tehilim is to inspire the soul by means of knowledge, which will strengthen our relationship with Hashem, and bring us under the purview of His providence.

Practically speaking, this means that it is not enough for a person to stop learning after reaching the point where he can say "I understand what this perek (chapter) of Tehilim is teaching." One must go further than that and ask: "How is this supposed to affect me?" "How is this intended to alter my view of reality?" "How can I make these ideas real to my mind and my emotions?"

In this sense, learning Tehilim is less like the study of Gemara or mathematics, and is more like psychotherapy, in which one seeks knowledge that has an impact on the entire psyche, rather than purely theoretical knowledge whose effect is confined to the intellect alone.

The Three Modes of Tehilim

According to the traditional meforshim (commentators), it would seem that there are three possible "modes" (or "interpretive frameworks") for every perek of Tehilim:

1. Biographical: some chapters of Tehilim were written at specific points in David's life, and reflect his thoughts and prayers at these times, such as Chapter 34 ("By David, When he disguised his sanity before Avimelech, who drove him out and he left"), Chapter 51 ("For the conductor, a song by David, when Noson the Prophet came to him, when he came to Bas-sheva"), and Chapter 56 ("For the conductor ... by David, a michtam, when the Philistines seized him in Gath"). 
2. National: other chapters are about the nation of Israel as a whole - in the past, the present or the future - such as Chapter 78 (which summarizes Bnei Yisrael's journey from Egypt through the Wilderness and into Israel), Chapter 114 ("When Israel went out of Egypt, Jacob's household from a people of foreign tongue"), and Chapter 137 ("By the rivers of Bavel, there we sat and also wept when we remembered Tzion").
3. Universal: other chapters deal with universal topics, without reference to specific people, times, or events, such as Chapter 1 (about the persona of the tzadik), Chapter 119 (about the Torah and its practitioners), and Chapter 150 (about praising God with music). 

The aforementioned examples fall squarely into one of these three modes. The tricky thing about Tehilim is how ambiguous most of the other perakim are. In the majority of cases, the meforshim debate which mode a given perek is in, and it will not always be clear how the meforshim arrived at their conclusions. Some will insist that a perek is about Klal Yisrael (the Jewish People) at the Messianic era, even though it contains no mention of the nation and is written from the perspective of an individual. Others will say that a perek which appears to be universal is really about David at a particular time in his life. There are certain meforshim (e.g. Radak, Meiri, Rashi) who will even interpret a perek in multiple modes, giving a dual or triple commentary on each pasuk. 

Since it is unclear which mode most perakim are in, the important thing is to take a firm stance and follow through with it in your analysis. If you're going to treat the perek as being about David, do so for the entire thing; if it's about Klal Yisrael, then it's entirely about Klal Yisrael. And if you're going to use meforshim, make sure you identify which mode they're learning in, since not all of them make this clear.

Personally, I prefer to default to the universal mode, unless I'm forced into one of the other two. I find the universal mode to be the most accessible, since it allows me to learn ideas from the pesukim and apply them directly to my life. The perakim in the biographical or national modes are more difficult, since they often necessitate the circuitous route of researching those episodes in David's life or in the life of the nation, then analyzing the pesukim in light of that background information, and only afterwards applying those insights to one's own life.

I also prefer the universal mode as a default because I believe that it is the ultimate goal of the other two modes. In other words, even if a perek is written from the perspective of David at a specific juncture in his life, or even if it's written about the condition of the Jewish People in the future, the goal of learning these ideas should be to arrive at universal truths which apply to every Jew in every generation.

How to Learn Tehilim 

My methodology for learning Tehilim is based on a technique taken straight out of Mortimer J. Adler's How to Read a Book. [2] He refers to it as "The Four Basic Questions a Reader Asks." Here is the technique in his words:

The Four Basic Questions a Reader Asks 

(1) What is the book about as a whole? You must try to discover the leading theme of the book, and how the author develops this theme in an orderly way by subdividing it into its essential subordinate themes or topics.

(2) What is being said in detail and how? You must try to discover the main ideas, assertions, and arguments that constitute the author’s particular message.

(3) Is the book true, in whole or part? You cannot answer this question until you have answered the first two. You have to know what is being said before you can decide whether it is true or not. When you understand a book, however, you are obligated, if you are reading seriously, to make up your own mind. Knowing the author’s mind is not enough.

(4) What of it? If the book has given you information, you must ask about its significance. Why does the author think it is important to know about these things? Is it important to you to know them? And if the book has not only informed you, but also enlightened you, it is necessary to seek further enlightenment by asking what else follows, what is further implied or suggested. 

Here is my adaptation Adler's "The Four Questions a Reader Asks" to Sefer Tehilim:

The Four Basic Questions to Ask When Learning Tehilim 

(1) What is the perek about as a whole? You must try to discover the main idea of the perek. What major insight is this teaching us about Hashem, about man, or about the relationship between them? I say "main idea" rather than "main theme" because a "theme" can be stated in a word or a phrase, whereas your goal in this is step should be to clearly articulate the main idea in 1-4 complete sentences. 

(2) What is being said in detail and how? You must try to understand what each pasuk is saying and how it contributes to or develops the main idea. This is not an all or nothing deal. The more complete your understanding, the better, but if there are specific words, phrases, or even entire pesukim that you don't understand, then it doesn't mean your answer to Question #1 is invalid - unless, of course, these pesukim contradict or undermine your main idea.

(3) Is the perek true, in whole or in part? Even though we accept Tehilim as true insofar as it is part of Torah she'bi'Chsav (the Written Torah), this doesn't mean that we will automatically be convinced that what David says is actually true. As Adler would say: "Knowing David's mind is not enough. You must make up your own mind." 

(4) What of it? What "inspiration via knowledge" is this perek written to bring about? How is the main idea in this perek supposed to affect your life, your view of reality, and your relationship with God? What else follows - what is further implied or suggested by the insights? What else can you do to internalize and be moved by these ideas? 

I feel obliged to point out a rookie mistake: starting with Question #2. All of my first attempts at learning Tehilim failed because I got bogged down in the particulars. I thought it made sense to approach Tehilim using the same method I use to approach Mishlei. I started by raising ALL of the questions and difficulties on ALL of the pesukim, and then I turned to the meforshim for answers. Since I had so many questions, I would feel obligated to read the entire commentary of multiple meforshim, for fear of missing out on an important detail. Typically this would result in me being overwhelmed by the sheer number of questions and problems, which would be compounded by reading the meforshim. The web of complexity would be too difficult to navigate, and I'd give up. 

Eventually I tried going to the opposite extreme: ignoring all of the particulars and attempting to grasp the whole - and it worked! I found that starting with Question #1 would naturally lead to a sort of back-and-forth "dance" between Questions #1 and 2: I'd come up with an approach for the main idea, and then I'd "test" it by seeing how this idea was developed through each of the pesukim. Whenever I'd encounter a question or a difficulty, then I would turn to the meforshim for assistance. This "macro" approach was far more manageable, and guided my "micro" analysis of the individual pesukim. 

I would even go so far as to recommend intentionally not attempting to do a comprehensive job in answering Question #2. Focus on Questions #1 and 4, and only address Questions #2 and 3 as your analysis and interest dictate. As long as you walk away with a clear grasp of the main idea and the intended purpose of the perek, then your learning of Tehilim was a success, even if you haven't explained every pasuk or verified every idea.

And it's as simple as that! Just work on these questions one at a time, putting the most emphasis on Question #1, and Tehilim will soon become more approachable than ever before. But there is one more critical tool you'll want to add to your Tehilim-learning arsenal before you get started.

The Pivot Point 

Over a decade ago, when my chavrusa (learning partner) and I first started trying to learn Tehilim, we observed a common structural phenomenon that appeared throughout the sefer. We noticed that in many cases, the perek of Tehilim will be moving along with a discernible thematic, structural, or stylistic flow, and then suddenly - seemingly out of nowhere - there will be a dramatic shift to a different theme, structure, or style. My chavrusa dubbed this "The Pivot Point." 

The best way to illustrate this is to point out some clear examples. As you read through each example, see if you can spot the pivot point before reading my answer:

Tehilim 92 

(1) A psalm, a song for the Sabbath day. (2) It is good to thank Hashem and to sing to Your Name, O Exalted One; (3) to recount Your kindness in the morning, and Your faithfulness in the nights. (4) Upon a ten-stringed instrument and upon lyre, with singing [accompanied] by harp. (5) For You have gladdened me, Hashem, with Your actions; about Your handiwork I will sing joyously. (6) How great are Your works, Hashem; [how] very deep are Your thoughts - (7) a boorish man doesn’t know, and a fool doesn’t understand this - (8) when the wicked bloom like grass, and all the doers of iniquity blossom, it is to destroy them forever and ever. (9) But You [remain] exalted forever, Hashem. (10) For behold Your enemies, Hashem, for behold – Your enemies shall perish; dispersed shall be all doers of iniquity. (11) You raised like a re’eim my pride; I was saturated with fresh oil. (12) My eyes have seen my foes; when those who would harm me rise up my ears have heard. (13) A righteous person will flourish like a date palm, and like a cedar in the Lebanon he will grow tall. (14) Planted in the house of Hashem, in the courtyards of our God they will flourish. (15) They will still be fruitful in old age, vigorous and fresh they will be, (16) to tell that Hashem is upright, my Rock in Whom there is no injustice.

Did you see it? It's verse 7. The first half of the perek, up until verse 7, is about David praising the handiwork of Hashem (i.e. the laws of nature). The second half of the perek after 7 is about the destruction of the wicked and the flourishing of the righteous. 

Indeed, verse 7 itself can be read in accordance with either half. If read with the first half, David is saying: "a boorish or foolish man cannot understand the greatness of Hashem's works and the depth of His thoughts as reflected in nature." If read with the second half, David is saying: "a boorish or foolish man cannot understand that although the wicked may bloom and the doers of iniquity may blossom, they will ultimately be destroyed." 

I believe that verse 7 was deliberately written to be ambiguous (which is why I tried as best as I could to retain the ambiguity in my English translation, through my use of poor punctuation). Verse 7 can be read as part of either half of the perek, but no matter how you read it, it is clearly the pivot point - and I believe that this is the key understanding the main idea of the perek (as I will write about in the sequel to this post).

Here's another straightforward example:

Tehilim 19 

(1) For the Conductor, a psalm of David. (2) The heavens declare the glory of God, and His handiwork is declared by the firmament. (3) Day following day expresses speech, and night following night speaks knowledge. (4) There is no speaker and there are no words; their voice is unheard. (5) Throughout the earth their measuring-line goes forth, and their words reach the ends of society. For the sun He set up a tent, in their midst. (6) And it (i.e. the sun) is like a groom coming forth from his wedding canopy, rejoicing like a warrior to run the course. (7) The ends of the heavens is its source, and its circuit is to their other end, and nothing is hidden from its heat. (8) The Torah of Hashem is perfect, restoring the soul; the testimony of Hashem is trustworthy, making wise the simpleton. (9) The ordinances of Hashem are upright, causing the heart to rejoice; the commandment of Hashem is clear, illuminating the eyes. (10) Fear of Hashem is pure, enduring forever; the judgments of Hashem are true, and are universally righteous. (11) They are more desirable than gold, than even much fine gold, and they are sweeter than honey, and the drippings of honeycombs. (12) At first Your servant was warned by them, [but] when he kept them, there was reward. (13) Errors –who can discern them? Cleanse me from hidden [faults]. (14) Also from wanton ones keep back Your servant, so they do not rule over me then when I am weak; [then] I will keep myself clean from great transgression. (15) May the words of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart find favor before You, Hashem, my Rock, and my Redeemer.

The pivot point should be obvious: it's at the end of verse 7 and the beginning of verse 8. The first half of the perek (1-7) is about the perfection and precision of the heavens in their obedience of God's will, with a focus on the individual entity of the sun; the second half of the perek (8-15) is about the perfection of the Torah, with a focus on the individual person of David, who beseeches Hashem to help him to fulfill His will with complete obedience in his actions, his speech, and the thoughts of his heart.

Here's another example, which is slightly less obvious than the other two:

Tehilim 23 

(1) A psalm by David. Hashem is my Shepherd; I shall not lack. (2) In lush meadows he lays me down, beside tranquil waters He leads me. (3) He restores my soul. He leads me on level paths for His Name's sake. (4) Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no harm, for You are with me. Your rod and Your staff - they comfort me. (5) You will prepare a table before me in view of my tormentors. You anointed my head with oil, my cup overflows. (6) Only goodness and kindness will pursue me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the House of Hashem for long days.

Did you catch it? It's at the end of verse 4 and the beginning of verse 5. In the first four verses of the psalm, David is a sheep; after verse 4, he's a human. 

In the three examples mentioned above, the perek is divided neatly in half. However, there are other types of pivot points as well. See if you can figure out this one:

Tehilim 136 

(1) Give thanks to Hashem for He is good, for His kindness endures forever.(2) Give thanks to the God of the heavenly powers, for His kindness endures forever.(3) Give thanks to the Lord of the lords, for His kindness endures forever.(4) To Him Who alone performs great wonders, for His kindness endures forever.(5) To Him Who makes the heavens with understanding, for His kindness endures forever.(6) To Him Who spread out the earth upon the waters, for His kindness endures forever.(7) To Him who makes great lights, for His kindness endures forever.(8) The sun for the reign of the day, for His kindness endures forever.(9) The moon and the stars for the reign of the night, for His kindness endures forever.(10) To Him Who smote Mitzrayim through their firstborn, for His kindness endures forever.(11) And brought Israel forth from their midst, for His kindness endures forever.(12) With strong hand and outstretched arm, for His kindness endures forever.(13) To Him Who divided the Sea of Reeds into parts, for His kindness endures forever.(14) And caused Israel to pass through it, for His kindness endures forever.(15) And threw Paroh and his army into the Sea of Reeds, for His kindness endures forever.(16) To Him Who led His people through the wilderness, for His kindness endures forever.(17) To Him Who smote great kings, for His kindness endures forever.(18) And slew mighty kings, for His kindness endures forever.(19) Sichon, king of the Emorites, for His kindness endures forever.(20) And Og, king of Bashan, for His kindness endures forever.(21) And presented their land as a heritage, for His kindness endures forever.(22) A heritage for Israel, His servant, for His kindness endures forever.(23) In our lowliness He remembered us, for His kindness endures forever.(24) And released us from our tormentors, for His kindness endures forever.(25) He gives nourishment to all flesh, for His kindness endures forever.(26) Give thanks to God of the heavens, for His kindness endures forever.

Did you see what he did? That's right: this perek involves a double-pivot! Verses 1-9 are about Hashem's kindnesses in nature. In verses 10-24 David pivots to Hashem's kindnesses to the Jewish people. But at the very end, in verses 25-26, he pivots back to the original theme of Hashem's kindnesses in nature. 

And here's a short one:

Tehilim 134 

(1) A song of ascents. Behold, bless Hashem, all you servants of Hashem, who stand in the House of Hashem in the nights. (2) Lift your hands in the Sanctuary and bless Hashem. (3) May Hashem bless you from Tzion, Maker of heaven and earth.

This pivot point is at the end of verse 2, and hinges on the switch from the imperative to the subjunctive mood. In verses 1-2 the author is commanding the servants of Hashem to bless Him; in verse 3 he is expressing his hope that Hashem will bless them in return.

Sometimes you'll run into a perek where the pivot point is debatable. Take another look at Tehilim 19 above. The most obvious pivot point is between verses 7 and 8, with the first half of the perek being about the heavenly bodies following the perfect laws of nature and the second half of the perek being about human beings striving to follow the perfect laws of Torah. However, it can be argued that the pivot point is between verses 11 and 12, with the first half of the perek (1-11) being about the perfection of Hashem's creations (i.e. the universe and the Torah), and the second half of the perek (12-15) being about the imperfect human being struggling to use his free will to align himself with God's will. Depending on where you place the pivot point, you might arrive at a different understanding of what the perek is about. 

Similarly, one of my students was convinced that the pivot point in Tehilim 23 was between verses 3 and 4. In verses 1-3 David refers to Hashem in the third person voice, but in verses 4-6 he refers to Hashem in the second person, implying an increased sense of closeness. We had a lively debate about this in class, which led to some nice insights. 

The next question is: How do we incorporate the notion of a pivot point into our methodology? The answer involves a four step process:

Step #1: Identify the pivot point. 

Step #2: Define the main idea of each "half" of the perek on its own, without thinking about the other half. Treat the two halves almost as if they are two separate chapters.

Step #3: Attempt to unify the two halves. Figure out the main idea which encompasses both. Abstract a major theme from the sub-themes and formulate the main idea.

Step #4: Ask yourself: "What purpose does this pivot point serve? How is it necessary for the main idea or for the intended purpose of the perek? Why couldn't David have just written a perek about this idea without the pivot?" Sometimes the purpose of the pivot lies in the shift of intellectual frameworks or premises. Sometimes there is a reason for the shift in mood or tone. Sometimes it's even a simple dichotomy like "before/after," "distress/salvation," "metaphor/lesson" - but even in these obvious cases, it pays to ask why the pivot point was needed in the first place.

You might wondering: "Do ALL 150 chapters of Tehilim have a pivot point?" This is where I will (conveniently) plead lack of expertise. Like I said, I haven't been through all 150 chapters. There are even some chapters I read on a daily or weekly basis, and still can't figure out whether I've identified the pivot point, or whether I'm just imagining it. For all I know, it could be that 100% of Tehilim contains pivot points, or maybe 10%, or somewhere in between.

All I can say is this: the search for the pivot point will be beneficial for your analysis in any event. Either you'll find a clear pivot point, which will help you in answering Question #1 (since defining each half and then defining the unity is easier than just trying to define the unity straightaway), or you'll find several candidates for pivot points, which will also help you in answering Question #1 (since you'll have several possible approaches based on where the pivot point is), or you won't find any pivot point, but you'll have already scrutinized the entire perek multiple times looking for unity, which will help you in answering Question #1. However it turns out, the quest for the pivot point will help you!

Other Tips

I have a few more assorted tips and decided to just list them all at the end:

When answering Question #1, begin by using an English translation if English is the language you think in - even if you know Hebrew. When analyzing the intricacies of the text there is no substitute for the original Hebrew, but when trying to get an initial birds-eye impression, I find that it's much more productive to think about the perek in the language that is most natural to your mind. After you have an approach to the main idea, and you start working on Question #2, you can delve into the Hebrew with the meforshim and sort out any translation issues.

Look for literary devices and structural anomalies. Sefer Tehilim is rife with examples of literary devices, such as parallelism, allusion, repetition, chiastic structures, and more, so be on the lookout for them. Although I have yet to find any instance in which these literary devices are essential to the main idea, I have noticed that they are helpful in answering Question #2. 

Think about it on your own first - then consult meforshim as needed. I cannot stress this point enough. If you start your analysis by jumping right into the meforshim, you will quickly become overwhelmed by the questions, problems, and answers they raise. Instead, only look into the meforshim to answer specific questions that naturally occur to you. And if this inquiry leads you to do further research, that's fine. Just don't feel obligated to do a complete survey of what the meforshim say on every pasuk.

Learn with your mind, but read with your emotions. Since Tehilim is designed to convey knowledge and inspire the emotions, it is important to allow yourself to feel what David is trying to make you feel. For example, in Chapter 23, when he describes himself as a lamb being guided through lush meadows and tranquil waters by a benevolent and protective Shepherd, use your imagination evoke those feelings from your own experience being guided by a caring and trustworthy figure. And when he describes Hashem as setting up a table for him in front of his tormentors, bring to mind your own tormentors and contemplate how you would feel if you were face to face with them, sitting at a table set with a feast, drinking wine and being anointed with oil. And if what David says doesn't resonate with your own emotions and experiences, then this is something to think about.  

Concluding Thoughts

I hope that I have succeeded in providing you with enough of a Tehilim methodology to begin learning on your own. I would like to reiterate that I am NOT an expert in Tehilim, and I am still trying to unlock the sefer for myself. My views on Tehilim methodology will continue to evolve, and when that evolution reaches a point where an update of this post is warranted, then I will update it.

In the meantime, let me know if you have any other insights or tips on how to learn Tehilim - and let me know if the guidelines provided here prove to be fruitful.

And stay tuned for my next two posts in this series, where I apply this methodology to Tehilim 92 and Tehilim 23. 

[1] Sefer ha'Chinuch: Mitzvah #512
[2] Mortimer J. Adler, How to Read a Book (1976 edition), pp.46-47

בס"ד vs. בג"ה

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

בס"ד vs. בג"ה

It is a fairly widespread practice among Orthodox Jews to write the acronym בס"ד in the upper right-hand corner of their cover pages. בס"ד stands for the Aramaic phrase בסיעתא דשמיא (b'siyata di'shmaya) meaning "with the help of heaven." Another variation is ב"ה which stands for the Hebrew phrase בעזרת השם (b'ezras Hashem) meaning "with Hashem's help."

To my knowledge, there is no halachic source for this specific practice. It's just something that people do to acknowledge Hashem's role in their endeavors (whatever they understand that to mean). Generally speaking, this seems to be a good practice. Philosophically (though probably not halachically), it is fulfillment of the what the Rambam writes in Hilchos Berachos 10:26:

The sum of the matter: a person should always cry out in prayer about the future and ask for mercy, and express gratitude for the past, and give thanks and praise according to his ability. The more a person thanks and praises Hashem continually, the more praiseworthy.

As readers of this blog are probably aware, I'm a big fan of the Ralbag's commentary on Chumash. Early on I noticed the Ralbag's use of a mysterious acronym: בג"ה. He seemed to use it in the same way that other people use בס"ד, but I couldn't figure out what the letters stood for. Finally, while using an edition of the Ralbag with expanded acronyms, I realized that בג"ה stands for בגזירת הצור (b'gezeiras ha'Tzur) meaning "with the decree of the Rock."

I'll admit right up front that I don't know why the Ralbag prefers בג"ה over בס"ד. I don't know of any explanation he offers for this practice. I'd venture to guess that his preference for this phrase can be traced back to his metaphysical premises, and I wouldn't be surprised if this decision reflects some controversial view about the relationship between God and the universe of which I am unaware. Frankly, none of that really interests me for the purpose of this post.

The reason I am writing this post is to explain why I prefer בג"ה over בס"ד. It is possible that my reasons apply only to myself, but I want to share them, for whatever value they're worth. 

Reason #1: Connotation of "Gzeirah"

My first reason has to do with the use of the term "gezeirah" (decree) as opposed to "siyata" (assistance). The metaphor of gezeirah brings to mind the idea of Malchus Hashem (God's Kingship). It also highlights the lawful, objective, and just manner of Hashem's governance of His world: "ki kol derachav mishpat" - "for all of His ways are justice" (Devarim 32:4). 

The term "siyata," on the other hand, caters to a more ego-gratifying way of viewing Hashem's role in our lives. Instead of conceptualizing Hashem as "The Melech Whose decree governs the entire universe, of which I am but a small part," the term "siyata" frames Hashem as "The One Who helps me." 

In other words, "gezeirah" emphasizes our acceptance of and submission to Hashem's universal Malchus, whereas "siyata" emphasizes His role in servicing my specific needs.

(To reiterate: this post expresses my views about why I prefer בג"ה to בס"ד. I'm not claiming that the associations I have to these terms reflect their only meaning, nor am I suggesting that everyone else thinks the same way I do. I'm just telling you what I think about when I encounter these terms. The ideas to which I am referring are objective truths, but the aim of this post is to express my subjective relation to those objective truths.)

Reason #2: Denotation of "Siyata"

My second reason for preferring בג"ה over בס"ד is that to my mind, siyata denotes hashgachah pratis specifically, whereas gezeirah includes both hashgachah pratis (individual providence) and hashgachah klalis (general providence – i.e. natural law).

In other words, the notions of "help" and "assistance" imply intervention in a natural order. From this perspective, בס"ד focuses on Hashem's role as the One Who intervenes in the natural order. "Gezeirah," on the other hand, refers equally to general decrees of hashgachah klalis - the laws of nature, which Hashem created and maintains - as well as the particular decrees of hashgachah pratis. As such, בג"ה is more all-encompassing than בס"ד. 

Is it possible to interpret "siyata" as referring to the laws of nature? Yes - but in the framework of dibra Torah ki'lshon bnei adam ("The Torah speaks in the language of man"), the term "help" typically refers to intervention, rather than an underlying system of lawfulness. 

(For the third time, I want to stress the point that I am only speaking about my own subjective thoughts which are triggered by these two acronyms. I feel the need to underscore this point because if I didn't, I know that some reader is going to jump down my throat and accuse me of projecting my own thoughts onto my fellow Jews.)

Reason #3: Use of Tzur (Creator) vs. Shmaya (Creation)

My final reason for preferring בג"ה over בס"ד is the use of Tzur (Rock) in the former over the use of shmaya (heaven) in the latter. The Rambam explains the meaning of the "Rock" mashal in the Moreh ha'Nevuchim 1:16. For the sake of brevity, I have omitted many of the proof-texts cited by the Rambam:

Tzur is an equivocal term. It is a term denoting a mountain. It is also a term denoting a hard stone like flint. It is further a term denoting the quarry from which quarry-stones are hewn. Subsequently, in derivation from the last meaning, the term was used figuratively to designate the root and principle of every thing ... On account of the last meaning, God, may He be exalted, is designated as the Rock, as He is the principle and the efficient cause of all things other than Himself ... The verse, "you may stand firmly on the Rock" (Shemos 33:21) means: rely upon, and be firm in considering, God, may He be exalted, as the first principle. This is the entryway through which you shall come to Him, as we have made clear when speaking of His saying [to Moshe], "Behold, there is a place by Me; [you may stand firmly on the Rock]" (ibid.) 

Thus, when we frame Hashem as Tzur in בג"ה, we remind ourselves that all occurrences are decrees emanating from the Cause of all causes - the Foundation of all existence. In contrast, the phrase בס"ד stops short at shamayim - a reference to Hashem's creation or governance, as opposed to Hashem, Himself. Sure, we imply that we are really referring to the Creator of shamayim - but why not go the full distance and make explicit reference to Hashem as such?

Conclusion

For these three reasons, I prefer the Ralbag's בג"ה over the conventional בס"ד. While both phrases accomplish their intended goal, בג"ה brings me closer to ahavas Hashem (love of God) and yiras Hashem (fear of God) than בס"ד.

The only catch is that nobody but the Ralbag uses בג"ה! I guess we'll have to see what we can do about changing that.

Addendum (6/2/17)

I realized that there is a fourth reason why I prefer בג"ה over בס"ד: because, according to my limited understanding of hashgachah pratis, “gezeirah” is a more accurate description than “siyata.” This especially true according to the Ralbag, as he explains in his commentary on Ki Sisa (Shemos 33:19). I have chosen not to write about this reason here, (a) because I do not currently have access to my Ralbag on Shemos, (b) I think this point deserves its own post, and (c) because even if it does deserve its own post, I don’t know whether it would be appropriate to write about, since I think it’s the type of idea that might be detrimental to those who aren’t ready to hear it.

Parashas Pinchas: Non-intuitive Mishpatim

Artwork: Path to Exile, by Rebecca Guay

Parashas Pinchas: Non-intuitive Mishpatim

The 613 mitzvos can be divided into two categories: mishpatim and chukim. 

"Mishpatim" refers those mitzvos whose reasons are obvious, which are in line with our common sense, and which we would keep (in some form) even if we hadn't been commanded by the Torah. Examples include: giving tzedakah, honoring one's parents, not stealing, not murdering, loving one's fellow as oneself, not testifying falsely in court, etc. Almost all societies have their own versions of these mishpatim, since the need for them is evident. 

"Chukim" refers to those mitzvos whose reasons are not obvious, which are non-intuitive, and which we wouldn't keep were it not for the Torah. Examples include: not eating milk and meat together, performing the sacrificial service, not wearing a mixture of wool and linen, waving the four species on Sukkot, etc. All of the chukim have reasons, and they were commanded for our benefit, but the reasons are hidden, and require study and analysis to uncover. 

This week's parashah is the source for the laws of inheritance. Although the Torah allows a person to do pretty much whatever he wants with his possessions before his death, the Torah spells out exactly what happens to his possessions if he dies without expressing his will. There is a hierarchy as to which of his family members receives priority in the inheritance, leaving no room for ambiguity.

On the surface one would think that the mitzvah of inheritance falls into the category of mishpatim. All societies have some form of inheritance laws which dictate what happens to the possessions of the deceased. The reasoning behind these laws seems obvious.

The Sefer ha'Chinuch (mitzvah #400) would beg to differ. He provides the following explanation for the purpose of these laws:

At the root of the mitzvah [lies the aim] that a man should know and consider that the world lies in the hand of a Master Who watches over all His creatures, and that by His good will and desire, each and every one in the world merits the share of property that he attains in his world. His gift (blessed is He) is blessed that it should continue forever for anyone to whom He gives it - were it not that because of the first sin, the decree of death was imposed in the world. Just because a person's body is removed does not make it just that there should be a cessation of God's blessed gift. Rather, it should extend further, of itself, to the body that developed in continuity from him, this being his son or his daughter.

According to the Sefer ha'Chinuch, the laws of inheritance remind us that all of our possessions come from Hashem, in accordance with His justice and kindness. This is true not only for human beings, but for all of His creatures, as we say in the Birkas ha'Mazon (Blessing after Meals): 

Blessed are You, Hashem, our God, King of the universe, Who nourishes the entire world, in His goodness – with grace, with kindness, and with mercy. He gives nourishment to all flesh, for His kindness is eternal. And through His great goodness, we have never lacked, and may we never lack, nourishment, for all eternity. For the sake of His Great Name, because He nourishes and sustains all, and benefits all, and He prepares food for all of His creatures which He has created. Blessed are You, Hashem, Who nourishes all.

Since His bounty is blessed, and His blessings endure, there is no reason why this bounty should cease upon the death of the individual. Rather, Hashem ensures that this blessing be passed on to the recipient's offspring, in accordance with a system of order and justice. He does this by means of these laws of inheritance. Thus, when a person engages in the system of inheritance laws, he is reminded of the greater framework of Hashem's providence, and is given a valuable opportunity for gratitude and reflection. 

This is a perfect example of how even the mishpatim - the "intuitive" mitzvos - of the Torah contain deeper dimensions, which are not intuitive. Yes, it is true that other societies have laws which govern the allotment of inheritance, but how many societies have inheritance laws which are designed to induce contemplation of metaphysical truths? What other nation uses its laws of inheritance as a vehicle for self-improvement and meditation upon one's place in the grand scheme of creation?

To the contrary - the versions of these mishpatim in other societies exist purely to serve practical, material interests, without any greater purpose. The Torah's mishpatim, on the other hand, accomplish these objectives and more. They guide us and facilitate our ethical and intellectual development, providing us with an opportunity to transcend the realm of the mundane and connect to the Source of reality.