Is it Permissible to Enjoy Learning on Tishah b'Av?

The Torah content for these two weeks has been sponsored by Ariel Rachmanov, a friend and Mishlei talmid of mine. Ariel works for Keller Williams Real Estate and has generously offered to donate to the Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund a percentage of any business that comes his way as a result of this sponsorship, resulting in a Mishleic "win, win, win" scenario for all parties involved. Ariel is based in New York but will be happy to help you meet your real estate needs in all 50 states.

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Artwork: Silence, by Wayne Reynolds

Is it Permissible to Enjoy Learning on Tishah b'Av?

When my rebbi Rabbi Morton Moskowitz zt”l passed away a few months ago, I wrote an article entitled Rabbi Moskowitz Memory #05: Tishah b’Av – the Most Enjoyable Day of the Year, which I began with the following paragraph:

If I had to associate Rabbi Moskowitz with a particular day of the year, that day would be Tishah b'Av: the most enjoyable day of every summer. No, I'm not being facetious. For me, and for those of us who were in Seattle at that time of year, Tishah b'Av was the day we looked forward to the most each summer because we knew we were in for some of the most enjoyable learning of the entire year.

I’m sure some people read this article and wondered, “Isn’t it assur to enjoy learning on Tishah b’Av?” On the surface, it would seem that the answer is a resounding: “Yes!” The Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chayim 554:1-3) writes:

On Tishah b’Av … it is prohibited to read Tanach, to learn Mishnah, midrash, Gemara, halachos, and aggados, because it is stated: “The ordinances of Hashem are upright, bringing joy to the heart” (Tehilim 19:9); school children shouldn't learn [on Tishah b'Av], but one may read Iyov and the bad parts of Yirmiyah, and if there are verses of consolation, he must skip them. It is permitted to learn Midrash Eichah and the chapter Eilu Megalchin, and it is likewise permitted to learn the commentaries on Eichah and Iyov. There are those who prohibit learning via thinking (i.e. even without speaking).

The Magen Avraham (ibid. 5) explains the rationale behind that last stringency: “Even though thinking is not equivalent to speaking … this is different, since the essential reason [for this prohibition] is because of joy, and in thinking [about Torah] there is joy.” He goes on to explain that for this same reason, it is prohibited to learn anything in depth: “It seems to me that for this reason, it is prohibited to learn any explanation or question or answer even about the ‘bad things’ because this brings a person joy.” Suffice it to say, the Magen Avraham would not approve of the hours of enjoyable in-depth learning and thinking that characterized my Tishah b’Av experiences with Rabbi Moskowitz. 

Thankfully, my posek follows a different view: that of his rebbi, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (a.k.a. the Rav). In a lengthier analysis than I can summarize in a 1-page article (see Sefer Shiurei ha’Rav al Inyanei Aveilus v’Tishah b’Av, by R’ Eliakim Koenigsberg, pp.44-46), the Rav demonstrated that the prohibition is NOT to experience joy through learning. Rather, Torah study has the legal status of “a joyous activity,” due to its very nature, and it is prohibited to involve oneself in that activity on Tishah b’Av, even if one’s personal learning experience doesn’t bring them any joy whatsoever.

What about the areas of Torah which we are permitted to learn on Tishah b’Av? Why don’t they fall under this prohibition? The Rav answered that even though each of these texts constitutes an entity of Torah and learning it would be a fulfillment of the mitzvah of Torah study, nevertheless, these subjects relate to the essential theme of Tishah b’Av. As such, not only is it permissible to learn them, but learning them constitutes an essential involvement in the aveilus ha’yom (mourning of the day). For this reason, they were never included in the prohibition against Torah study on Tishah b’Av in the first place. 

Based on this theory, the Rav – unlike the Magen Avraham – permitted in-depth study and analysis of these texts, since this constitutes an even greater involvement in the aveilus ha’yom. The Rav’s grandfather, R’ Chaim Soloveitchik, cited as a proof of this the fact that it is permissible to study the commentaries on Eichah and Iyov, even though such learning would, by definition, constitute an in-depth study.

According to the Rav’s explanation and halachic position, there is no halachic violation involved in deriving enjoyment from one’s learning of the permissible texts on Tishah b’Av. But is it philosophically appropriate to experience such joy on a day of mourning? And even if it is, does that mean we should avoid it or suppress it? The answer to that question will have to wait for another time. But as always, if you have any thoughts, I’d love to hear them!

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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. 

Minhag Mythbusters: Does a Husband Sing Eishes Chayil for His Wife?

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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Photo: Mishlei 31:10-14, Aleppo Codex 32-292-r

Minhag Mythbusters: Does a Husband Sing Eishes Chayil for His Wife?

There is a widespread minhag to sing Eishes Chayil on Friday night before kiddush. Many are under the impression that a husband sings this to (or for) his wife, as the English book Rite and Reason: 1050 Jewish Customs and Their Sources (1995) states: “[Eishes Chayil] contains praise for one’s wife who exerted herself and prepared the Shabbos delicacies.” But is this the actual reason why we sing Eishes Chayil? Specifically, is this the basis of the original minhag or is this a post-facto explanation? And if the latter, when and how did things change, and what are the implications for how we relate to the practice? These questions were posed to me, and I’d like to summarize my findings here.

Let us start with the text of Eishes Chayil itself, i.e. the final 22 pesukim of Sefer Mishlei. Could these pesukim apply to one’s wife? Certainly. But is that likely? No, it is highly unlikely. Says who? Says Shlomo ha’Melech in the opening pasuk of Eishes Chayil: “An accomplished woman, who can find? Her value is far beyond pearls” (Mishlei 31:10). In other words, a true eishes chayil is a rarity of rarities, and it would be extremely unlikely that every Jewish husband who sings this song was able to find and marry one. What if the husband who sings this to his wife is not doing so because she is an eishes chayil but because she aspires to be? That would be great! However, I doubt that most women hear Eishes Chayil and think to themselves, “My husband is telling me that these are the expectations I should live up to.” And if we take the allegorical reading – that Eishes Chayil is about Torah, or the psyche, or the soul – then it certainly wouldn’t be relevant to sing to one’s wife. And either way, what does Eishes Chayil have to do with Shabbos evening?

So, where did the minhag originate, if not from the pshat of the pesukim? Professor Yael Levin answers:

Contrary to popular opinion, the minhag to recite [Eishes Chayil] did not originate with [a husband] showing honor to his Jewish wife who toiled and worked to prepare Shabbos – which is an implication that developed over the years. Rather, the foundation [of this minhag] is a Kabbalistic ritual which developed in Safed (Tzfat) in the middle of the 15th century. Its recitation constituted a component of a symbolic wedding ceremony which began with the Kabbalists going out to the fields outside of the city several hours before the onset of Shabbos; there they would greet the [Sabbath] bride with the recitation of poems and chapters of Psalms – the most well-known of which is the poem "Lecha Dodi." At a much later stage, they stopped going out to the fields, and the minhag transitioned to the courtyard of the synagogue. Upon arriving at home, they would announce in a loud voice with great joy, "Shabbat shalom!" like a bridegroom greeting the bride with great joy and a smiling countenance. At an even later date, their minhag was to circle the table clockwise two times: first they would circle it in silence, and once they finished, they would take two myrtle branches - one in the right hand and one in the left - join them together, make a blessing on them, smell their fragrance, and immediately afterwards they would circle the table a second time. Nowadays they sing Shalom Aleichem and, in a beautiful melody while sitting, they sing the song of Eishes Chayil corresponding to the shechinah, "which contains 22 pesukim corresponding to the 22 heavenly pipes which are open at that time and empty out a flow of blessing from the heavenly wellspring from the head of all the crowns."

In other words, the minhag to recite Eishes Chayil had nothing to do with husbands and wives! The “eishes chayil” in the text was taken to be an allegorical reference to “the Sabbath bride,” and it wasn’t even recited in the home or on Shabbos itself! Only when the original significance of the minhag was forgotten did people take this to be about actual wives. Moreover, Eishes Chayil was only recited but wasn’t sung until the melody was composed by Benzion Shenker in 1946!

What are the implications of such findings? Do we embrace the current “folk explanation” as a “legitimate” post-facto reason for the minhag? Do we strive to raise awareness of the minhag’s true origins? Regardless of the answer, one thing is clear: it is better to know where a minhag came from than to not know.

One of the many aspects of Judaism I appreciate is the ability to conduct “halachic archaeology.” In other religions and cultures, asking, “Why do we do XYZ?” will often be met with a shrug – or worse, with the non-answer of “TRADITION!” In Judaism, there are always answers, and it is always possible to conduct research to find them.

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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.

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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. 

Does Hashem Actually Care What We Call Shemini Atzeres?

This week's Torah content has been sponsored by an anonymous donor, in memory of her grandmother, Golda Henya bat Devora a"h.

Disclaimer: I usually try to make my articles as accessible as possible by translating Hebrew and Aramic terms and providing background information. However, due to the halachic nature of this topic and the fact that it is a one-page article, I've decided not to provide such explanations. 

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Does Hashem Actually Care What We Call Shemini Atzeres?

I would describe myself as somewhat of a “nusach ha’tefilah geek.” I enjoy researching variations in different nuschaos and attempting to understand their causes and implications. For this reason, my chavrusa and I spent an inordinate amount of time this past Shemini Atzeres delving into the question of how one is supposed to refer to the name of the holiday when mentioning it in tefilah, birkas ha’mazon, and kiddush. Do we say “Yom Shemini Chag ha’Atzeres” (Tur / Shulchan Aruch), “Yom Shemini Atzeres” (Minhagim / Rama), “Yom Shemini Atzeres ha’Chag” (Rashal / Taz), “Yom Chag Shemini Atzeres” (Rambam), or something else?

Our learning prompted us to probe deeply into the very nature of Shemini Atzeres and its relationship to the Chag ha’Sukkos. We emerged with a clearer grasp of the multifaceted halachic character of this unique holiday than we previously had. From the standpoint of enhancing our Yom Tov, this was definitely a worthwhile sugya to take up. And yet, a little over an hour into our learning, I found myself bothered by what some might consider to be an irreverent question: Does Hashem actually care what I call Shemini Atzeres in my tefilah and berachos?

Let me be very clear about what I am asking and what I am not asking. I am not asking, “What's the point of davening at all? What does Hashem get out of our tefilos?” Hashem doesn’t get anything out of our tefilos. Nothing we do affects Him. Tefilah, like all mitzvos, is entirely for our own benefit. I am also not asking, “Why do variants in the nusach ha’tefilah matter?” The Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah included the greatest chachamim and neviim of their era; it would be both halachically irresponsible and intellectually foolish to deviate from the carefully crafted nusach they established in their unparalleled wisdom. Furthermore, I am not bothered by nusach variants which reflect different ideas, different interpretations, different sources, different emphases, or different minhagim.

My question here is far narrower and is based on an assumption. My assumption is that the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah did NOT dictate a specific wording for how we refer to Shemini Atzeres. Rather, they established the halacha of me’ein ha’meora (i.e. the requirement to mention the name of the Yom Tov on the day itself) and they also instructed us to single out Shemini Atzeres as separate from the Chag ha’Sukkos, but they didn’t formulate the precise manner in which we ought to identify the Yom Tov when implementing these halachos. If this assumption is true, then do all these hairsplitting arguments mentioned by the poskim actually matter? Why should we care which version we say if the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah didn’t care enough to tell us?

An answer to my question came from a pasuk we read on Shabbos Chol ha’Moed: “Do not be rash with your mouth, and do not let your heart be hasty to utter a word before God; for God is in heaven and you are on earth; therefore, let your words be few” (Koheles 5:1). The Ibn Ezra uses this as a springboard for a lengthy polemic against certain paytanim and the use of piyutim in davening. He opens with the following:

[Utter words before God] only if you understand their meaning … Know that God stands over you. He sees you and hears your words … Therefore, a person who prays is obligated to guard the openings of his mouth; he should contemplate in his heart that he is standing before the King of kings, Who holds the power to kill and to grant life.

If you knew you were going to make an appearance before a king who had the power over life and death, you would certainly make sure you spoke with the highest level of precision and understanding you could muster. To neglect to do so would indicate a lack of reverence, no matter how trifling the content of your speech. Thus, even if the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah didn’t establish a particular nusach for how we refer to Shemini Atzeres in our davening, this doesn’t exempt us from doing our due diligence to choose our words with as much understanding and precision as we can, thereby reinforcing our recognition that we are standing in awe and fear before the King of kings. It's not what we call Shemini Atzeres that matters. It's the fact that we care how we speak before God.

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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 an article, shiur, or podcast episode, 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"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here. 

Parashas Pinchas: Overcoming Psychological Obstacles to Asking Your Rabbi

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Artwork: Azor's Elocutors, by Johannes Voss

Parashas Pinchas: Overcoming Psychological Obstacles to Asking Your Rabbi

Introduction

I will preface and contextualize this blog post with a rather vague claim supported by anecdotal evidence. My vague claim is that some women refrain from asking shailos (halachic questions) to their rabbis due to a variety of social, practical, and/or psychological hurdles. 

My anecdotal evidence is drawn from ten years of teaching high school girls, and encountering numerous instances in which my suggestion to "just ask your posek (halachic decisor)" is met with reluctance, anxiety, and even fear. 

Further evidence is drawn from an informal poll I took on various social media platforms in which I asked Orthodox women whether they think it's more difficult for women than men to ask their rabbi halachic questions due to various social, practical, and/or psychological obstacles. The overwhelming majority of women who responded concurred. 

It is in this specific context that I would like to examine the story of the Daughters of Tzelofchad. Let's review the relevant pesukim: 

The daughters of Tzelofchad, son of Chefer, son of Gilad, son of Machir, son of Menashe, of the families of Menasheh son of Yaakov drew near - and these were the names of his daughters: Machlah, Noah, Choglah, Milcah, and Tirzah - and they stood before Moshe, before Elazar ha'Kohen, and before the Leaders and the entire assembly at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, saying: "Our father died in the Wilderness, but he was not among the assembly that was gathered against Hashem in the assembly of Korach, but he died of his own sin, and he had no sons. Why should the name of our father be omitted from among his family because he had no son? Give us a possession among our father's brothers." And Moshe brought their claim before Hashem.

Hashem said to Moshe, saying: "The daughters of Tzelofchad speak properly. You shall surely give them a possession of inheritance among the brothers of their father, and you shall cause the inheritance of their father to pass over to them." 

I believe that there are several lessons we can learn from the fact that the Daughters of Tzelofchad asked this question, and from the manner in which they asked it. These lessons may not help remove the social and practical barriers which Jewish women face, but my  hope is that they provide some chizuk (encouragement) for overcoming some of these psychological difficulties. 

I will examine four psychological obstacles to shailah-asking. The first one applies specifically to women, and the others apply women and men alike. These certainly aren't the only such obstacles, but they are the only ones I managed to identify with corresponding insights from this parashah. 

Psychological Obstacle #1: Gender

When learning Torah it is often instructive to take note of what the Torah doesn't say, in addition to what it actually says. It is easy to overlook the simple fact that the Daughters of Tzelofchad did not hesitate to approach Moshe, Elazar, and the Leaders of the nation on account of their gender. They didn't say, "we're women, and it wouldn't be appropriate for us to appear before these distinguished men" or "we're women, so these men wouldn't listen to us" or "we're women - of what value is our opinion?" or anything having to do with their gender. 

Likewise, they weren't criticized by these men or by the Torah in any way for asking their question. They received an answer just the same as anyone else, without any fanfare - positive or negative - as the asking of a shailah should be.

There has been an uproar in recent years about certain ultra-religious communities which refuse to feature pictures of women - even modestly dressed women - in magazines or illustrations of women in children's books in order to avoid any form of "gazing at women." In stark contrast, the Daughters of Tzelofchad took center stage, "before Moshe, before Elazar, before the Leaders and the entire assembly at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting." They didn't send their message through an intermediary, nor did they stand behind a mechitzah (partition), nor did they opt to appoint only one of their party to present their case. They all stood there and spoke in public in front of all these men. 

There is something compelling about the stark contrast between the way that these ultra-religious communities would react to the prospect of women appearing in front of their rabbinic council, and the matter-of-fact way that the Torah recounts the case of the Daughters of Tzelofchad. 

But the essential point is simple: when it comes to asking shailos, the Torah is egalitarian, even though the real world (unfortunately) isn't. 

Psychological Obstacle #2: Embarrassment 

The Ralbag derives a lesson for all Jews from the fact that the Daughters of Tzelofchad asked their question. He writes:

[This story] informs us that it is not proper for a person to refrain from bringing his case in front of the authorities on account of boshes (shame); rather it is proper for him to strive to do this (i.e. to present his case) with enthusiasm and diligence in order to get what he deserves. We see that the daughters of Tzelofchad were not embarrassed to bring their case before Moshe and before Elazar ha'Kohen and before the leaders and the entire assembly in order to attain what they sought in regards to the matter of inheritance, which they asked about correctly, as we explained. 

There is no indication from the Ralbag that this "shame" and "embarrassment" - or rather, the lack thereof - had anything to do with gender. It is reasonable to assume that he was talking about the general feeling of self-consciousness which prevents both men and women from asking their rabbi questions. 

Chazal identify this problematic type of boshes in the famous statement in Avos 2:5: "lo ha'bayshan lomeid" ("one who is ashamed / embarrassed will not learn"). Although that mishnah is about learning Torah in general rather than asking shailos, the nature of the boshes is often the same in any case. The intrepid student worries: "What if my question is dumb?" "What if they laugh at me?" "What if they get angry at me for asking it?" The rationalizations generated by such boshes are innumerable. 

The fact that the Daughters of Tzelofchad didn't succumb to this boshes is noteworthy enough for the Ralbag to point it out as a lesson for the rest of us. 

Psychological Obstacle #3: "Never mind. It's Not Worth It"

It is interesting how the Ralbag formulates his praise of the Daughters of Tzelofchad. He says that they "were not embarrassed to bring their case before Moshe and before Elazar ha'Kohen and before the leaders and the entire assembly in order to attain what they sought in regards to the matter of inheritance." He doesn't laud their chochmah (wisdom), or their legal reasoning, or even their devotion to the proper observance of halacha. He praises them for the fact that they went this far in order to get what they wanted. 

This sounds like a trivial point, but I think it's worth mentioning. I've had many students who have wanted to do some enjoyable activity or partake in a pleasure or even obtain a real benefit which they think might assur (prohibited). I tell them to ask their rabbi, in case there's a heter (reason to permit) or a kula (leniency) which they're unaware of. When I check in with them a few days later and ask, "So, what did your rav say?" they answer: "Oh, I decided not to ask him." When I hear this, I want to exclaim: "What? Why! This is something you looked forward to doing! The worst he can say is, 'No,' in which case you'd be right where you are now, but the best case scenario is that he says, 'Yes' and you'll get to enjoy yourself!" And yet, I sympathize with how easy it is to just say, "It's not worth it," and give up on the matter without asking. It's easy to give up long-term pleasure on account of immediate anxiety. 

When I think of the Ralbag's emphasis on the Bnos Tzelofchad asking a shailah to obtain what they want, I am reminded of my Rosh Yeshiva's explanation of an obscure midrash on the pasuk: "When you eat the labor of your hands, you are praiseworthy, and it is good for you" (Tehilim 128:2). The midrash applies our pasuk to a talmid chacham (Torah scholar) who is confronted with the meat of an animal which is a safek treifah (i.e. the carcass of properly slaughtered kosher animal which might nevertheless turn out to be prohibited, depending on whether it exhibits certain physical defects). Rather than just throw out the meat, this talmid chacham applies his halachic knowledge to it an attempt to find a basis for permitting it:

Mar Zutra expounded in the name of Rav Chisda: any talmid chacham who reads [Written Torah], learns [Oral Torah], and is meshamesh talmidei chachamim (i.e. is skilled in the methods of abstract halachic analysis) and assesses a treifah on his own, the pasuk says about him: "you are praiseworthy, and it is good for you."

My Rosh Yeshiva pointed out that this is diametrically opposed to the "frum" (religious) mentality. The frum person would "play it safe" and discard the treifah rather than rely on his own halachic knowledge and run the risk of possibly violating a prohibition. This midrash advocates the opposite approach: as long as a person makes recourse to the halachic system in a responsible and objective manner - in this case, relying on his expert application of halachic analysis and psak (halachic adjudication) - then there is nothing wrong with trying to maximize personal enjoyment from Olam ha'Zeh (This World), even when a halachic doubt is involved. To the contrary, not only is "it good" for him, since he gets to enjoy the meat, but he is even considered to be "praiseworthy" by the Torah. 

Although the Daughters of Tzelofchad were not relying on their own halachic analysis in this case - which would have been an exceedingly arrogant move, given the fact that Moshe Rabbeinu was still alive - the "moral of the midrash" as explained by my Rosh Yeshiva applies. They could have been frum and said, "never mind, I don't need to ask; everyone else is probably right about their application of the halacha anyway" and forfeiting their inheritance, they strove "to attain what they sought," and believed to be rightfully theirs. 

One might object to this line of reasoning, saying: "Of course the Daughters of Tzelofchad asked their shailah! It's their inheritance! Do you really think they ever considered not asking Moshe?" My answer is: you'd be surprised by the cases I've heard in which people have refrained from asking their posek potentially life-changing shailos based on the types of excuses we've been talking about. I don't want to go into detail about these examples (out of respect for privacy), but it's not that hard for me to imagine a person refusing to ask a shailah even when there's a lot at stake. A person's anxiety doesn't care whether or not she's being rational. 

The willingness to strive to obtain what we want doesn't seem like it should be noteworthy, but the fact that many people don't means that those who do should be recognized for their success in overcoming their inner impediments. 

Psychological Obstacle #4: Bureaucratic Barriers

The last obstacle I'd like to discuss is based on the Abravanel's interpretation. He writes:

The statement "and they stood before Moshe, before Elazar ha'Kohen, and before the Leaders and the entire assembly" indicates that these Daughters first went before Moshe and said to him: "Our master, we have come for judgment." He responded: "Did I not give Israel officers of thousands, officers of hundreds, officers of fifties, and officers of tens? Go before them! Why are you asking me about a matter of law?" And they went before Elazar ha'Kohen, for Aharon had died, and he responded similarly. And they went before the leaders and the officers of the people and told them their argument. They responded: "This matters in included in 'a difficult matter [of judgment]' and we have not heard its law. Go to Moshe, for it is written: 'the difficult matter they would bring to Moshe [and the minor thing they themselves would judge]' (Shemos 18:26). 

Once the Daughters saw that no one would listen to them, this one saying go to the officers, and [the officers] saying to go to Moshe, they acted strategically and waited until all of them - namely, Moshe, Elazar, the leaders, and the officers of the assembly - were gathered together at the entrance of the Tent of meeting: "and they stood before Moshe, before Elazar ha'Kohen, and before the Leaders" and they stated their argument in front of all of them, saying, "Look, now! Whoever is fit to judge this, come and judge it!" 

I find it somewhat odd that the Abravanel explains this pasuk in a manner which paints such a negative picture of the ordeal experienced by the Daughters of Tzelofchad, but if we accept his interpretation, then we see another quality that these women had: fortitude and cunning when dealing with bureaucracy. 

Nobody likes to deal with bureaucracy. It is easy to give up, especially when sent in circles, as the Abravanel described. But not only did the Daughters of Tzelofchad not give up. They cut right through the bureaucratic red tape and set up a situation in which the authorities were forced to respond, on their terms. 

This might not always be possible in real life. Sometimes there's just no way. But we see from the Daughters of Tzelofchad that even when it seems like there's no way, you have to at least try to make a way. 

Conclusion

My heart goes out to everyone - both women and men - who face these psychological obstacles which make it difficult for them to ask their shailos. I hope that these lessons from the Daughters of Tzelofchad can provide some inspiration and encouragement for those who struggle. 

Parashas Korach: Judaism's Take on Egalitarianism

Originally published in June 2015 under the title: "Parashas Korach: Divinely Chosen - Nothing Personal." 

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Commander's Authority, by Johanes Voss

Parashas Korach: Judaism's Take on Egalitarianism

Korach spearheaded his movement by preaching a grandiose populist ideology: "It is too much for you! For the entire assembly - all of them - are holy and Hashem is among them; why do you exalt yourselves over the congregation of Hashem?" (Bamidbar 16:3). 

However, according to Rashi (Bamidbar 16:1), Korach's entire rebellion was fueled by a personal vendetta against Moshe Rabbeinu: 

What made Korach decide to quarrel with Moshe? He envied the chieftainship of Elitzaphan the son of Uziel whom Moshe appointed as chieftain over the sons of Kehas by the [Divine] word. Korach claimed, “My father and his brothers were four [in number]” as it says, “The sons of Kohath were [Amram, Yitzhar, Chevron, and Uziel]” (Shemos 6:18). Amram was the first, and his two sons received greatness - one a king and one a kohen gadol. Who is entitled to receive the second [position]? Is it not I, who am the son of Yitzhar, who is the second brother to Amram? And yet, he [Moses] appointed to the chieftainship the son of his youngest brother! I hereby oppose him and will invalidate his word (based on Tanchuma Korach 1, and Bamidbar Rabbah 18:2).

Korach felt cheated out of the position to which he believed he was entitled, but he masked his personal jealousy by espousing a democratic ideology. Moshe Rabbeinu (being Moshe Rabbeinu) saw right through Korach's ruse, and called him out on his true motives: 

"Is it not enough for you that the God of Israel has separated you from the assembly of Israel to draw you near to Himself, to perform the service of the Tabernacle of Hashem, and to stand before the assembly to minister to them? And He drew you near and all your brethren, the offspring of Levi, with you - yet you seek priesthood as well?" (Bamidbar 16:9-10).

We know how the story ends: Hashem makes it abundantly clear whom He has chosen, and the interlopers are punished harshly. Aharon's divine designation as the Kohen is further solidified by the miracle of the blossoming staff, which is memorialized in the Kodesh ha'Kodashim (Holy of Holies) for all time. The take-away lesson is loud and clear: Hashem is the One who assigns and regulates roles in Judaism, and those who challenge these divinely ordained assignments are opposing His will.

Later on in the parashah, several mitzvos are given which reinforce this message. One of these mitzvos is the mitzvas lo taaseh (Biblical prohibition) against a non-Kohen doing the avodah (service) in the Beis ha'Mikdash (Holy Temple). The Sefer ha'Chinuch (Mitzvah #394) explains the reason for this prohibition as follows:

At the root of this mitzvah lies the reason that it is to the glory of the [Divine] King and the place that there should be a certain people there from the certain, known tribe, permanently appointed to minister, and an outsider should not enter among them for the service - in keeping with [the practice of] royalty on earth: they appoint known honorable men, that all the work of the palace should be done by them. For it is not fitting for a king that he should change the ministering servants before him every day, and that all should thus make use of the crown of ministry to the king. This is something quite clear. 

The parashah also teaches a separate mitzvas lo taaseh which prohibits the Leviim from doing the tasks of the Kohanim (i.e. the avodah), and against the Kohanim doing the tasks of the Leviim (i.e. guarding the Mikdash and providing the musical accompaniment for the avodah of the korbanos). This prohibition extends even to the division of labor within the Leviim: a designated Levi singer is not permitted to guard the Mikdash, nor is a Levi who guards the Mikdash permitted to sing. The Sefer ha'Chinuch (Mitzvah #389) provides a different kind of rationale for this prohibition:

At the root of this mitzvah lies the reason that the service of these two groups is precious, consecrated service; therefore, this work must be strongly guarded from abdication, laziness, and forgetfulness. Now, there is no doubt that with any work imposed on two people or more, forgetfulness happens more frequently than with a task imposed on one alone. For in many cases, the two of them will rely on each other, and the work will be left undone between them. This is something which is obvious to every person. 

In other words, if people were allowed to do each other's tasks, this permission would lead to laxity, forgetfulness, and neglect - which, in turn, would result in diminishing the kavod (glory) of the Mikdash, and the King Whom we honor therein. 

According to the Sefer ha'Chinuch, there is a common denominator which underlies these two prohibitions: neither of them bar people from these roles because they are unqualified; both prohibitions stem from systemic considerations. In other words, the Torah doesn't regard a Kohen to be inherently superior or more capable of doing the avodah than a non-Kohen; rather, by limiting the avodah to one specific tribe, the kavod of the Mikdash and the Melech is preserved and enhanced. Likewise, Kohanim are certainly capable of doing the tasks of the Leviim (and vice versa), but the Torah wants to take measures against diffusion of responsibility which would result in neglect of the all-important duties of the Mikdash. 

The juxtaposition of Korach's rebellion and these mitzvos teaches a lesson which is relevant at all times, but is especially relevant for those of us who live in a democratic culture which continues to move towards universal egalitarianism. That lesson may be summed up as follows: when God assigns you a certain role in life, do not take it personally. Judaism's role assignments are determined by what is best for the system - not by what is best for you. 

Korach made this mistake. He was so caught up in his own delusions of entitlement that he denied Hashem's role in designating Aharon and his descendants as Kohanim, and accused Moshe of flagrant nepotism - a move which ultimately proved to be his own undoing. 

Bnei Yisrael - or at least, a portion of Bnei Yisrael - made this mistake insofar as they believed in Korach's rallying cry of "the entire assembly - all of them - are holy and Hashem is among them." This may be true, but it doesn't mean that Judaism is an equal-opportunity enterprise. 

Many Jews today make this mistake when they criticize Judaism for assigning different roles to men and women. They take these role-assignments personally because they assume that they stem from misogyny or other forms of prejudice. They are often so entrenched in these assumptions that they don't even bother to investigate the halachic and philosophical reasons for these restrictions. 

Now, this isn't to say that there aren't divinely ordained roles which are merit-based. For example, one must be a great talmid chachamim to serve as a dayan (judge) on a Sanhedrin, and no matter how much an am ha'aretz (ignoramus) wants that position, he is simply unqualified. 

Judaism is not egalitarian. There are hierarchies of roles and positions, and many of them are inflexible. Non-kohanim can't do avodah. Kohanim can't be musicians in the Mikdash. Kohanim with physical blemishes can't participate in the public avodah. Women and geirim are barred from certain positions of authority. No one but the descendants of David ha'Melech are permitted to be anointed as king. And the list goes on.

Although some may find this concept to be basic, it is often the most basic concepts which bear repetition. 

Picking and Choosing in Halacha

Artwork: Fact or Fiction, by Matt Cavotta

Picking and Choosing in Halacha

Many of us have been raised with the notion that one cannot, or should not, "pick and choose" when it comes to halacha l'maaseh (practical halachic rulings). When I first converted to Judaism, I thought that this was an actual law. I thought that a person was halachically obligated to choose one exclusive posek (rabbinic authority who issues practical halachic rulings), and that this posek's rulings were eternally binding, and that it was not permissible to consult other rabbis for piskei halacha (halachic rulings). I have encountered many observant Jews who hold a similar belief. 

But the more I learned about how halacha works, the more I began to question my understanding of this "principle." I learned about the difference between horaah and psak din, and how the verb "paskin" can mean different things in different contexts. I learned about the difference between authentic "Mosaic semichah," which died out sometime around the 4th or 5th century, and the type of "modern day semichah" that is granted today. I learned about the principle of eilu v'eilu divrei Elokim Chayim ("Both these and these are the words of the Living God"), which means that any halachically sound view is considered to be "true" in the eyes of Hashem, even if that view runs contrary to the halacha that was given at Sinai. 

This last point raised the biggest question in my mind. If, in Hashem's eyes (so to speak), the opinions of Rashi and Tosafos are both valid, then why can't I pick and choose? If I choose to follow Tosafos over Rashi or Rashi over Tosafos, are you really going to tell me that I am wrong, or that what I am doing is assur? That seems to fly in the face of eilu v'eilu. 

Eventually it dawned on me that this injunction against "picking and choosing in halacha" cannot, itself, be a halachic principle. At most this must be a meta-halachic principle which governs the way we relate to halacha. I assumed that this principle was legitimate, due to its ubiquity, and because I had never really heard any learned person say that you can just pick and choose whichever shitah (opinion) you want to follow. 

Still, I was bothered by the vague and amorphous nature of this "no picking and choosing" rule, and I wanted to understand its basis and its scope. I gradually began to form my own understanding of this principle, but had never seen it explicitly discussed in the classical sources. 

All of that changed this weekend when I stumbled upon the commentary of the Sforno on a mishnah in Pirkei Avos. I was pleased to see that the Sforno's explanation for why we shouldn't "pick and choose" in halacha corresponds to the conclusions I had arrived at on the matter. 

The mishnah in Avos 1:16 states: 

Rabban Gamliel says: "Make a rav for yourself, and remove yourself from doubt, and do not accustom yourself to tithe by estimation."

The Sforno treats the two clauses of "make a rav for yourself" and "remove yourself from doubt" as two halves of the same dictum. He writes:

Even though [Chazal] said, "One who wishes to act in accordance with the words of Beis Shammai may do so, [and one who wishes to act] in accordance with the words of Beis Hillel may do so" (Eiruvin 6b), on account of eilu v'eilu divrei Elokim Chayim ("these and these are the words of the Living God"), nevertheless, it is fitting for you to make (i.e. appoint) for yourself a designated rav, whose opinion you will always follow, and whose halachic instruction will direct you. Through this, you will remove yourself from the doubt of machlokess such that your heart will not incline you to sometimes act in accordance with one authority and other times in accordance with another, for Chazal say about this: "regarding someone like this the pasuk says, 'the fool walks in darkness' (Koheles 2:14)."

The Sforno directly addresses the question that I had found to be the most problematic: If, in matters of halacha, we say, "eilu v'eilu divrei Elokim Chayim" - namely, that every halachically sound view is considered to be valid - then why can't we pick and choose in halacha? 

The Sforno's answer is clear. From a strictly halachic standpoint, a person is allowed to pick and choose, since eilu v'eilu divrei Elokim Chayim. However, from a meta-halachic standpoint, this is not an advisable practice. Why not? Because picking and choosing leads to the habit of determining halacha based on personal preference. 

Halacha is beneficial on many levels, but if you strip away all of its layers - all of the taamei ha'mitzvos (the reasons for the commandments), all of the philosophy, and all of its other ideational content - you will find, at the core, an objective system of rational law which operates based on principles which are scientific in their conceptual character. Take an uneducated Jew who knows nothing about halacha except for what to do and what not to do. At the very minimum, his life will be a continual exercise in subordinating himself - his desires, his actions, and his will - to an objective legal framework, commanded by the Author of the universe. By keeping his own desires in check and subduing them to the chochmah of halacha, the observant Jew elevates himself above his animal nature, and lives as a tzelem Elokim - albeit on a minimal level. 

But the more a person allows his subjective preferences to dictate his practice of halacha, the more he dilutes this fundamental character of the halachic system. Even if he is choosing between two halachically valid opinions (e.g. Rashi vs. Tosafos), and is acting still within the scope of halachically acceptable views, he has ipso facto undermined the objective quality of the halachic system and subordinated it to his personal whims and desires.

This is why the Sforno says "Nevertheless, it is fitting for you (ראוי לך) to appoint for yourself a designated rav, whose opinion you will always follow, and whose halachic instruction will direct you." There is no halachic obligation to "choose a posek." But by doing so, one ensures that one's subjective emotions will never interfere with the determination of halachic practice. The yetzer ha'ra knows how to operate as a subtle arbiter, and can infiltrate without being detected.

This sheds a new light on the necessity of having a posek. Not only does the posek function to determine correct halachic practice, but he also serves as way to anchor oneself to the underlying objective character of the halachic system, thereby enabling one to reap the maximum benefits of following halacha.

In retrospect, I can see why people treat this "no picking and choosing" principle as an actual halacha. It is so fundamental to the integrity of the halachic system that to neglect it would mean putting all of halacha at risk.

While the Internet has contributed to the development of wonderful tools for advancing and spreading Torah knowledge, it has also given rise to a culture in which people feel more at ease "conducting their own research" and making independent halachic decisions, without consulting an actual posek, and with little or no training in the science of halacha. For this reason, I feel even more compelled, as a teacher, to urge my students to choose a posek and to consult him with any and all of their halachic questions. Thankfully, I can now direct them to Pirkei Avos and to the Sforno as a support for this practice. 

"Is shomer negiah chayav misah?!" or "How to Determine the Severity of an Aveirah"

Originally posted in June 2012. Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Cloistered Youth, by Igor Kieryluk

"Is shomer negiah chayav misah?!" or "How to Determine the Severity of an Aveirah"

Introduction

One of the most common types of questions I'm asked by my students is any variant of: "If I violate such-and-such aveirah (transgression), how is God going to punish me?" Sometimes they ask the question in its generic, panic-stricken form: "Am I going to burn in hell?" Other times, they'll ask about specific punishments they've heard for specific aveiros.

Such a question was posed to me this past Monday in my 10th grade Chumash class. Since it was our last full day of class, I decided to have a "Q&A/discussion day." As it so happened, a student was visiting from another school and her friends told her that she can feel free to ask me any question, and no question is off limits in my class. Right away, she asked - with fear and trepidation in her eyes: "One of my teachers said that I violate 'shomer negiah' then I'm chayav misah (liable for the death penalty). Is that true? Is God going to kill me?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Sure, I was aware that some teachers and parents use scare tactics in an effort to get kids to keep halacha, but would a teacher really go so far as to tell a student that "shomer negiah" is chayav misah? And even if this was a result of the student misunderstanding, I would like to know what went on in the discussion which left the student with such a gross distortion.

Ideally, I would have attempted to address all of the flawed premises. However, given the limited amount of time, I decided to answer her question in two parts: (1) by teaching her a method of determining "how bad" any aveirah is, not just "shomer negiah," and (2) by clarifying precisely what is included in the halacha that has come to be known as "shomer negiah." In this post I will focus exclusively on the first part of my response.

I answered the student by explaining that the "severity" of an aveirah can be assessed in three different frameworks - two which are accessible by us, and one which is not.

Framework #1: The Halachic System

The mishnah in Avos 2:1 says in the name of Rebbi:

You should be as careful with a mitzvah kalah (a "light" mitzvah) as with a chamurah ("severe" mitzvah), for you do not know the rewards of the mitzvos; and you should calculate the cost of a mitzvah against its reward, and the reward of an aveirah against its cost.

In order  to implement this teaching, one would need some way of calculating the "costs" and "rewards" of mitzvos and aveiros. Thankfully, the Rambam provides such a method in his commentary on this mishnah. In this blog post we will focus exclusively on his method of calculating the "costs" of aveiros, since this will help us figure out which aveiros are more "severe" than others. Here are the words of the Rambam:

Throughout the entire Torah, which includes mitzvos aseh (positive commandments) and mitzvos lo taaseh (negative commandments), Scripture explicitly states the punishments for each and every one of the mitzvos lo taaseh except for a few. Some are punishable by misah (death), others by kareis (excision of the soul), misah b'ydei shamayim (death at the hands of heaven), and malkos (whiplashes). From the punishments we can know which of the mitzvos lo taaseh are more severe and which are less so. There are eight levels: 

1. the first level, which is the most stringent of them, are those things that are liable for skilah (death by stoning). 

2. The level below it are transgressions that are liable for sreifah (death by esophageal incineration). 

3. The third level is transgressions that are liable for hereg (death by decapitation). 

4. The fourth is transgressions that are liable for chenek (death by strangulation). 

5. The fifth is transgressions that are liable for kareis. 

6. The sixth is transgressions that are liable for death at the hands of heaven. 

7. The seventh is transgressions that are liable for malkos. 

8. The eighth is transgressions for which we do not administer malkos. 

From this hierarchy the severity and "lightness" of an aveirah can be known. 

There you have it. The Rambam clearly states that the relative severity of an aveirah can be inferred from its punishment. If you want to know "how bad" any given aveirah is - that is to say, any lo taaseh - the first place to look is its penalty. 

It is important to note that there are exceptions to this general rule, which the Rambam spells out in other places. Many of these exceptions have to do with (for lack of a better term) "halachic technicalities," which remove certain aveiros from the Rambam's eight-level hierarchy. For example:

• The prohibitions of rechilus (gossiping) and lashon ha'ra (negative speech) are not punishable by a court of law because they are violated through speech, which is not halachically recognized as a physical action that is punishable by a court of law. Nevertheless, the Rambam says that rechilus "destroys the world" and lashon ha'ra is comparable to the severe transgressions of murder, idolatry, and illicit sexual relations.
• Likewise, the mitzvah of Anochi Hashem Elokechah is the most fundamental mitzvas aseh, and one who violates it is considered  to be a kofer b'ikar (denier of the fundamental principle) and has no portion in the World to Come. Nevertheless, there is no penalty for violating this mitzvah, since purely cognitive transgressions are not punishable by human courts.
• Gezel (armed robbery) is certainly a severe and violent crime. Chazal teach us that the verdict of the Dor ha'Mabul was only sealed because of gezel (Sanhedrin 108a). Nevertheless, gezel falls in at the lowest level on the Rambam's hierarchy, and isn't even chayav malkos, due to the fact that the robber must pay back what he stole. 

It is also important to consider the other factors which determine the Torah's penalties for various transgressions, which the Rambam spells out in the Moreh ha'Nevuchim 3:41:

Preface: You should know that the severity of a punishment and the difficulty of suffering it, or the lightness of the punishment and the [relative] ease of tolerating it, are dependent on four factors:

(1) The severity of the sin. Actions whose consequences are very harmful are punished severely, whereas actions whose consequences are less harmful are punished less severely.

(2) The frequency of its occurrence. A transgression that is frequently violated requires a more severe punishment as a deterrent, whereas transgressions which are relatively infrequent are sufficiently deterred by their infrequency combined with a lighter punishment.

(3) The degree of temptation in the matter. If a person is greatly tempted to do something - either because he is drawn to it by a strong desire or due to the force of habit, or due to the great pain in abstaining from it - then he will only be deterred from it by something very intimidating.

(4) The ease of doing the thing secretly and in private, so that others will not notice. We are only repelled from such acts by the fear of a harsh and severe punishment.

In other words, the severity of the aveirah is only one determinant of the Torah's penalties. There are three others: the frequency of the violation, the degree of temptation, and the ease of transgressing in private. Nevertheless, it would appear from the Rambam's commentary on the mishnah in Avos that the severity of the aveirah is the primary determinant of the penalty - enough so that one can gauge an aveirah's severity based on the penalty alone.

But in spite of the aforementioned exceptions and limitations of the Rambam's principle, the Rambam still advocated his method of determining the severity of an aveirah based on the Torah's penalty. And if this method is good enough for the Rambam, then it is certainly good enough for me to teach my students.

Incidentally, the Rambam's principle provides a good answer for students who ask, "Why do the Torah's punishments even matter nowadays, since we don't even have a Sanhedrin?" The answer is clear from the Rambam: even when there is no court to impose these penalties, they still serve as general indicators of the severity of each aveirah.

Framework #2: Natural Consequences (a.k.a. Mishlei)

Then there is (what I refer to as) the framework of Mishlei: the natural consequences of an aveirah. For example, the Torah's penalty for adultery is chenek, which is the fourth most severe category of aveirah. But what does Shlomo ha'Melech have to say about the fate of an adulterer?

For on account of a harlot [one will lack] even a loaf of bread, and a married woman will entrap the noblest person. If a man stokes a fire in his bosom, will his clothes not burn? If a man walks on embers, will his feet not be scorched? So it is with one who sleeps with his fellow's wife; whoever touches her will not go unpunished. People do not despise a thief because he steals - it is in order to fill himself up, for he is starving. When caught, he pays sevenfold, giving up his entire household. [But] one who commits adultery with a woman lacks all sense; only one who wishes to destroy himself would do such a thing. Pestilence and degradation will befall him, and his disgrace will not be forgotten. For jealousy [awakens] a man's anger, and he (i.e. the husband of the adulteress) will show no mercy on the day of revenge. For he will not look favorably upon any ransom or be placated by your bribe, however great (Mishlei 6:26-35).

Even now, when there is no Sanhedrin to impose the penalty of chenek, the "natural punishments" described here by Shlomo ha'Melech are still in effect. The adulterer risks the wrath and vengeance of the husband, the loss of his own reputation, the numerous social complications and harms that follow, the stress that comes from the secrecy and the loss of secrecy, the shame of being discovered, and more.

This framework isn't limited to physical and psychological consequences, but extends to intellectual consequences as well. Consider, for example, the lo taaseh of "al tifnu el ha'elilim" ("do not turn [your thoughts] to false gods"), which prohibits us from pursuing our curiosity about avodah zarah beliefs and practices. Even though this aveirah falls under level 7 or 8 in the Rambam's scheme - depending on whether the violation involved an action - it clearly can lead to catastrophic intellectual/metaphysical consequences.

Needless to say, these natural consequences are not consistent, nor are they guaranteed. Sometimes the consequences are knowable and predictable, but other times they are not. Also, these consequences will differ in each and every case. In spite of all these variables, these consequences can be understood through the chochmah of Mishlei, and one can assess the severity of a given aveirah by applying that chochmah to the facts at hand.

In general, I try to initiate my students into this framework as soon as possible with the hopes that it will gradually supplant their the childish imagination-based fears they've accumulated over the years. I believe this is in line with what the Rambam wrote in Hilchos Teshuvah 10:5:

Therefore, when we teach the children, women, and general populace of laymen, we should only teach them to serve out of fear and in order to receive reward, until their minds mature and they gain additional wisdom; [then] we should reveal this secret to them little by little, and accustom them to this concept with pleasantness, until they apprehend it and know it and serve out of love. 

I find that high school students tend to have difficulty factoring in both frameworks. Either they latch onto the Halachic System Framework and downplay the natural consequences, or else they seize the Natural Consequences Framework and disregard the halachic one. I guess that's why both frameworks are necessary.

Framework #3: Divine Judgment

Lastly, there is another framework of evaluating aveiros which is unknowable to us, and is therefore worthy of consideration. This is the framework of zechus and avon, as explained in Hilchos Deos 3:2:

The weighing of zechuyos ("merits") and avonos ("iniquities") does not go according to their quantity, but according to their magnitude. One zechus might be equal to many avonos, as it is stated, "Because of the fact that he found something good in him" (Melachim I 14:13), and a single avon might be equal to many zechuyos, as it is stated, "One sinner can destroy much good" (Koheles 9:18). This weighing is only done in the "Mind" of the God of Deios; He is the One Who knows how to evaluate the zechuyos against the avonos.

In other words, even though the Torah assigns its own severity-indicator to each transgression (i.e. the halachic penalty), this is from the standpoint of the system. On an individual level, Hashem "weighs" each and every transgression differently, depending on the circumstances and the individual.

For example, if two people intentionally do melachah on Shabbos, their transgression is equal in the eyes of the system: both are chayav skilah if there are witnesses, and chayav kareis if there aren't witnesses. However, the avon of one person might carry a greater weight than the avon of the other person, and only Hashem can make that determination, since only He knows all of the factors involved in the transgression. 

Summary and Conclusion

Let's summarize what we've learned. The severity of an aveirah can be assessed in three frameworks: (1) the framework of the halachic system, according to which the severity of an aveirah can be determined by its Torah-imposed penalty; (2) the framework of natural consequences, according to which the severity of an aveirah can be discerned - with varying degrees of probability - in light of the wisdom of Mishlei; and (3) the framework of "divine judgment," which is known only to God.

After briefly explaining each of these three frameworks, I answered the student's question about "shomer negiah." I explained that what she refers to as "shomer negiah" falls under the mitzvas lo taaseh of lo tikrevu le'galos ervah (Vayikra 18:6,19) and - at worst - is chayav malkos, which ranks as #7 in the Torah's hierarchy of halachic penalties (with #1 being the most severe and #8 being the least). I then provided a basic explanation of some of the natural consequences of not abiding by this halacha. I concluded by saying that only Hashem knows how each instances of this transgression will be judged. 

In conclusion, it is my opinion that these three frameworks should be taught to high school students - especially the halachic system framework. The Torah does specify the punishments for violating halacha, and - according to the Rambam - those punishments were designed to deter us from transgression. There is no need for "scare tactics" beyond these, and there is a whole lot to gain from learning about each aveirah within these three frameworks.