The One-Page Article: a Summer 2021 Experiment

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Artwork: Revitalize, by Justin and Alexis Hernandez

The One-Page Article: a Summer 2021 Experiment

In his discussion of silence and the ideal of minimizing speech, the Rambam (Hilchos Deios 2:4) writes:

Likewise, in matters of Torah and matters of wisdom, the words of a chacham (wise man) should be few, but their ideational content abundant. This is what the Sages commanded, saying: a person should always teach his student in a concise manner. But if the words are many and the ideational content is sparse, this is foolishness. Regarding this it is stated: "for a dream comes in an abundance of concern, and the voice of a fool in an abundance of words" (Koheles 5:2).

This summer I intend to conduct an experiment in short-form writing. Specifically, I am going to see what happens if I limit each article to a single page. There are four reasons for this experiment:

(1) Mental Health: Those who have followed me on social media are aware that last year was fulfilling but stressful. Although my usual practice has been to publish one blog post every weekday during the summer, I no longer think this is a realistic plan. I need to scale back my prolificacy during the summer so that I can return to my demanding teaching job rejuvenated and healthy in the fall. At the same time, I do want to write. One of the reasons why I stuck to the “one article each day” format in previous summers was because it prompted me to produce but also set up a cut-off mechanism. No matter what happened, I knew I had to finish a blog post by day’s end. My theory is that the one-page format will set up a similar cut-off. I will be impelled to produce a daily page of Torah, but without the pressure generated by the potential for “infinite” writing.

(2) Sustainability: This past year I taught an average of 30 shiurim each week. This left zero time for writing. This coming year my teaching schedule has been reduced by a third. Theoretically, this will give me time to write (unless I need to use that time for tutoring to pay the bills – a factor which remains to be seen). If I can afford to write this year, the one-page format is likely to be far more sustainable than the “write as long of an article as necessary until it’s perfect” format.

(3) To See What Happens: Mark Rosewater, the head designer of Magic: the Gathering, is fond of saying: “Restrictions breed creativity!” Believe it or not, I’ve rejected many ideas for blog posts in past years because I feel like they’re too minimal to warrant an entire article. This experiment will reverse the trend, forcing me to write about ideas which would NOT fill an entire article.

(4) To Practice Brevity: The last and least important reason is what the Rambam wrote above. I’ve honed my writing craft mostly through practice, but occasionally I’ll try to consciously work on a specific quality, and in this case, it’s brevity. I’ve been told that my writing is clear. The question is: Can I achieve the same level of clarity, but in fewer words? It’s time to attempt to practice what Bruce Lee taught: “It’s not the daily increase but daily decrease. Hack away at the unessential!”

To those who fear that my “feature-length” articles will become a thing of the past – fear not! I do intend to allow myself to write my normal-length articles when the content or the mood dictates, and when time allows, but I’d like to make these short-form articles the bread and butter of my blog for the summer. I’ve already written a few of these, just to see how it went, and I loved how they turned out! I’m excited to see where this summer's writing leads. Here’s to the adventure of experimentation!

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The Limits of she'Lo Lishmah

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

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

The Limits of she'Lo Lishmah

The Question

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Indolent Women of Machoza

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Possible Answer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

Parashas Mattos/Masei: Who is to Blame?

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Artwork: Memorial to Folly, by Sung Choi

Parashas Mattos/Masei: Who is to Blame?

This week we conclude our reading of Sefer Bamidbar. I taught Sefer Bamidbar for seven years, and there is one sentiment I encountered among my high school students every time: anger at Bnei Yisrael. Whenever we’d learn an episode of Bamidbar in which Bnei Yisrael sinned and were punished, my students would grow frustrated and exclaim: “How could Bnei Yisrael be so stupid?!” “They’re so childish and immature!” “Why do we have to suffer for their sins?” 

As tempting as it is to place the blame entirely on Bnei Yisrael for their sins, that is not the approach that Moshe Rabbeinu takes in our parashah, nor is it the approach that Yirmiyahu takes in our haftarah. 

Parashas Mattos begins with Hashem commanding Bnei Yisrael to wage war with the Midianites. The Jewish men lead the battle, killing the Midianite kings and male soldiers, and taking the women, children, livestock, and wealth as spoils. 

Moshe becomes enraged. [1] However, his anger is not directed at the soldiers who engaged in the looting, but at the commanding officers who were appointed over them. Rashi, [2] citing Sifre, [3] explains why: 

and Moshe became enraged at the appointed of the soldiers – [namely,] those who were appointed over the soldiers; [the pasuk says this] in order to teach you that every deterioration of the generation is contingent on the gedolim (leaders), since they have the ability to protest. 

The Rambam codifies this principle in two places in the Mishneh Torah. The first is in Hilchos Deos,[4] in his exposition of the mitzvah of hocheach tochiach (“you shall surely rebuke a member of your people”): 

One who sees his friend who sinning or following a path that is not good is commanded to return him to the good, and to inform him that he is sinning against himself with his bad decisions, as it is stated: "You shall surely rebuke [the member of] your people" (Vayikra 19:17) … and one who has the ability to rebuke but refrains from rebuking is included in the sin of those [sinners], so long as he had the ability to rebuke them. 

The second instance is in Hilchos Teshuvah, [5] in his list of sins which impede teshuvah: 

There are four sins which are so severe that if a person does one of them, Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu will not provide him with the ability to do teshuvah, due to the magnitude of the sin. They are:  

1. one who causes the masses to sin; included in this is one who prevents the masses from doing a mitzvah  

2. one who turns his friend from a good path to a bad path, such as a meisis (one who leads a person to worship avodah zarah) or a mediach (one who leads a city to worship avodah zarah)  

3. one who sees his son with a bad crowd and doesn’t protest: since his son is under his dominion, then he is like a person who causes him to sin; included in this is anyone who has the ability to protest against others – whether a multitude or a few individuals – and doesn’t protest, but leaves them with their stumbling block  

4. one who says, “I will sin and then I will do teshuvah”; included in this is one who says, “I will sin and Yom ha’Kippurim will atone.” 

This does not mean that such sins are entirely the fault of the leaders, and that the sinners themselves are free from blame. The foundational principle of Torah is that that every human being has free will, and is the cause of his or her own actions. At the same time, the Torah recognizes that leaders hold a great sway over the parameters of their followers’ free will. Thus, if a leader fails to use his position of influence to save or prevent his followers from sinning, then he is considered to be partially at fault, and shares in the culpability of the sinners. 

For example, every Nazi in Hitler’s Germany had free will, and could have chosen not to align himself with the forces of evil. Yet, it is clear that a Nazi soldier raised by a Nazi family, educated in a Nazi school, and surrounded by Nazi ideas, Nazi patriotism, and Nazi ascendancy – such an individual has far more impediments to exercising his free will for the good than his American counterpart among the Allies. There are many paths of choosing the good which are clear and unobstructed for the American, but blocked or obscured in darkness for the Nazi. However, if Hitler and the upper echelon of Nazi leaders radically changed their view of their “enemies” – just as Japan and its citizens changed their view of Americans after World War II – then it would be far easier for the individual Nazi to exercise his free will and choose good over evil. Freedom of choice is universal, but it is not equal in mankind, nor does it exist in a vacuum. It is a tenuous thing, subject to external disturbances – like a flickering candle on a blustery night, in need of protective hands to shield it and prevent it from being extinguished. 

Yirmiyahu follows Moshe’s approach in his rebuke of Bnei Yisrael, but is even more explicit in ascribing blame to the leaders of the nation. He begins with a general message to the nation: 

Hear the word of Hashem, O House of Jacob, and all families of the House of Israel: Thus said Hashem: "What wrong did your fathers find in Me that they distanced themselves from Me, and they went after nothingness and they became nothingness? And they did not say, ‘Where is Hashem Who brought us up from the Land of Egypt, Who led us in the Wilderness, in a land of desert and pit, in a land of waste and the shadow of death, in a land through which no man passed and no person settled there?’ I brought you to a fruitful land to eat its fruit and its goodness; but you came and you contaminated My land, and My inheritance you made into an abomination.” (Yirmiyahu 2:4-7) 

But then he turns his rebuke to the leaders, specifying how each group of leaders is culpable: 

“The Kohanim didn’t say, ‘Where is Hashem?’ and those who grasp the Torah (tofsei ha’Torah) didn’t know Me, and the shepherds rebelled against Me, and the [false] prophets prophesied by the Baal, and went after that which has no benefit. Therefore, I will continue to quarrel with you,” the word of Hashem, "and with your grandchildren I will quarrel." (ibid 2:8-9) 

The Radak [6] explains how each of these groups was at fault for the sins of the nation: 

the kohanim [didn’t say,] “Where is Hashem?” – we have explained this [as follows:] the Kohanim who are before Hashem (i.e. in the Beis ha’Mikdash) all day, bringing sacrifices before Him, should have said to the nation that worships Baal, “Where is Hashem, such that you worship someone other than Him?” 

those who grasp the Torah – these are the wise men who learn Torah; they “did not know Me” in that they didn’t learn Torah for its own sake, to fulfill what is written in it, but learned only with their mouths and a divided heart; this is what it means by “they did not know Me,” because good thought with good actions is [real] “knowledge [of God]” – not [mere] learning.

the shepherds – these are the kings who shepherd the nation, just like shepherds shepherd sheep.

and the prophets – these are the false prophets. 

If these religious and political leaders had stepped up to the plate, they could have halted the downward spiral of Bnei Yisrael, thereby preventing the destruction of the Beis ha’Mikdash (Holy Temple) and the galus (exile), or at least diminishing the severity of the catastrophe and suffering.[7] The people of the nation, themselves, are – as the navi said – like a flock of sheep. Each sheep has its own agency, but that agency is contingent on the decisions of the shepherd. If the shepherd leads his sheep to lush meadows, they will freely roam and graze; if he leads them within proximity of the wolves, they will have little choice but to flee for survival. 

I believe that this perspective on the sins of our ancestors has a bearing on the way we view the faults in our fellow Jews today. The Jewish world is split into so many different factions, religiously, politically, culturally, racially, socio-economically. Each faction has its own problems, errors, and transgressions. Some of these flaws are recognized by all; others fester, unnoticed. 

It would be easy to blame each of these groups of Jews for their own problems, but it would also be wrong. The bulk of the blame lies with the leaders – those in the remote past, the recent past, and the present. It is the leaders who have the power to protest and to put a stop to the problems which plague their people. It is the leaders who can articulate a vision of the good and formulate a plan to bring it about in action. The blame lies with them. 

But here’s the catch: by “leaders” I’m not just referring to those at the top of their respective spheres of influence; I’m talking about “anyone who has the ability to protest against others – whether a multitude or a few individuals – and doesn’t protest, but leaves them with their stumbling block.” By this definition, “leaders” include kings and fathers, roshei yeshiva and school-teachers, statesmen and neighbors, elders and older brothers, those who are respected for their wealth or for their wisdom. And yes, “leaders” include ourselves. 

Today is Rosh Chodesh Av. Nine days from now we will observe Tishah b’Av, one of the public fast days. These days have a common mission, as the Rambam articulates in Hilchos Taaniyos: [8] 

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

Our national teshuvah has to start somewhere, but it is hard to begin if we don’t know where or with whom to place the blame. It is, after all, human nature to assign blame whenever something goes wrong. 

According to the implications of what we’ve written about today, the blame lies with ourselves, to the extent that each of us is a leader with a sphere of influence, however large or small that sphere may be. 

Perhaps, by recognizing the interconnectivity of Klal Yisrael, and by appreciating the weight of the power we have to shape the paths of the people within our daled amos (four cubits), we will, as a nation, begin anew the long process of returning to the good. 

[1] It’s unclear from the pesukim why Moshe got angry; see Ramban on Bamidbar 31:6 for an explanation. 

[2] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 31:14 

[3] Sifre 42 

[4] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Deos 6:7 

[5] ibid. Hilchos Teshuvah 4:1 

[6] Rabbeinu David Kimchi (Radak), Commentary on Sefer Yirmiyahu 2:8 

[7] Truthfully, according to my understanding, by the time Yirmiyahu’s prophetic career began, Bnei Yisrael had reached the point of no return. If they responded positively to his message and did teshuvah, the Beis ha’Mikdash would still be destroyed, and the exile still would have happened, but it wouldn’t have been as severe. 

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

Parashas Chukas: Overlooking Sacrilegious Speech

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Artwork: Curse of Thirst, by Christopher Moeller

Parashas Chukas: Overlooking Sacrilegious Speech

To anyone who has read through Sefer Shemos and Sefer Bamidbar, it is apparent that Bnei Yisrael complain. A lot. On the surface, their complaints in this week's parashah seem to be harsh - not harsher than usual, but harsh nonetheless: 

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)

Sounds pretty bad, right? Not only do these statements reflect Bnei Yisrael's lack of bitachon (trust) and lack of hakaras ha'tov (gratitude), but they actually go so far as to accuse Moshe Rabbeinu of redeeming them from Egypt in order to kill them in the desert! 

One would expect Hashem to respond with a harsh punishment, as He has in many other cases, and to chastise them for speaking disparagingly about His greatest servant. After all, we saw what happened to Miriam when she said even the most slightly wrong thing about Moshe.

The astounding thing is that Bnei Yisrael aren't punished. In fact, they are given exactly what they ask for, without any indication of Divine wrath:

Hashem spoke to Moshe, saying, "Take the staff and gather together the assembly, you and Aharon your brother, and speak to the rock before their eyes that it shall give its waters. You shall bring forth for them water from the rock and give drink to the assembly and to their animals" (ibid. 20:7-8).

The question is: Why didn't Hashem punish them? What makes this instance of complaining different from the other cases in which Bnei Yisrael were punished? 

The Ralbag [1] answers in his summary of the toalos (lessons) we learn from the parashah:

The first lesson we learn [in this section is] in middos (character traits), 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.

According to the Ralbag, Hashem didn't punish Bnei Yisrael for their otherwise inappropriate statements because they were in a state of extreme suffering. In contrast, Bnei Yisrael's other complaints were not out of genuine distress. For example, the first time Bnei Yisrael complained about water, the pesukim make it clear that they were doing so in a quarrelsome manner, in order to test Hashem:

"The entire assembly of the Children of Israel journeyed from the Wilderness of Sin to their journeys, according to the word of Hashem. They encamped in Rephidim and there was no water for the people to drink. The people quarreled with Moshe and they said, 'Give us water that we may drink!' Moshe said to them, 'Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test Hashem?'" (Shemos 17:1-3). 

Another example is the first time Bnei Yisrael complain in Sefer Bamidbar the Torah says: "The people acted as complainers; it was evil in the ears of Hashem" (Bamidbar 11:1). The meforshim (commentators) explain that they weren't genuinely complaining out of any real need; rather, they were "acting like complainers" in order to test Hashem, or to rebel against Him. [2] 

Similarly, in the very next episode: "The mixed multitude that was among them cultivated a craving, and the Children of Israel also wept once more, and said, "Who will feed us meat?" The meforshim explain that the people initially didn't feel the need for meat. It was only when the mixed multitude awakened their desire that they complained to Hashem. 

In all three of these cases, Hashem did not tolerate their inappropriate speech. Punishment was swift and unequivocal. Why? Because in none of these cases did Bnei Yisrael's complaining stem from any genuine need or state of distress. 

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. [3] 

Whenever one comes across a lesson in middos, it is useful to think about specific ways in which it can be implemented in one's own life. As a high school teacher, I am often confronted by complaining teenagers. They complain about everything under the sun: homework, tests, school rules, teachers, administrators, field trips, student activities, parents, the weather, the temperature, Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton, Judaism, Jews, non-Jews ... the list goes on. Sometimes their negative remarks cross the border into the "inappropriate" or even the "prohibited" category. 

As was the case with Bnei Yisrael, most of my students' complaints are out of line. However, after reading this Ralbag, I realize that sometimes - on rare occasion - my students' negative remarks do come from a place of genuine pain, distress, or unjust treatment. When this happens, I am sometimes quick to lump these complaints into the general category of unwarranted teenage complaining. But I now realize that if I am to emulate the middos ha'Kadosh Baruch Hu, I should really take the care to discern the nature of their complaint. I must at least make the effort to see past the words they are saying and try to understand where these words are coming from. And if they are coming from a state of real suffering, then it might be correct to respond with merciful tolerance, as Hashem did with Bnei Yisrael. 

In highlighting this lesson in middos the Ralbag is reminding us of a derech in learning ethics from Chumash. Whenever we find ourselves confronted with a situation in which Hashem acts differently than the way we would be inclined to act, we must investigate the situation and strive to understand the wisdom and mercy in Hashem's approach, so that we may learn lessons from His conduct which we can apply to our own lives.

[1] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar, end of Parashas Chukas

[2] see Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi) and Rabbeinu Ovadiah Sforno on Bamibdar 11:1

[3] see Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha'Mada - Hilchos Deos Chapter 1

We're ALL Sick

I must acknowledge at the outset the possibility that some will find this blog post to be offensive. To those people, I am sorry - for whatever preemptive apologies are worth. I don't know how to express these musings in a way that avoids any chance of upsetting people, and I am aware that by posting this, I might be putting my foot in my mouth. The best I can do is this offer little disclaimer. 

Artwork: Mind Bend, by Mike Dringenberg

We're ALL Sick

Over the past three weeks I have stumbled upon three different online discussions about three different "mental/psychological conditions" (for lack of a better term) - the type of condition that affects a minority percentage of the population. In each of these discussions, one party spoke of the condition as an illness, and the other party was offended and responded by saying something to the effect of, "How DARE you speak of this condition as though it were an illness! Keep your bigotry to yourself!" (I'm not going to identify which conditions were discussed, since that would likely sidetrack us with the same type of argument.)

Witnessing these online altercations led me to think about how mental illness is regarded in our present day American society. I am happy about the recent movement to destigmatize mental illness. People have become increasingly open to talking about mental illness, there is a greater awareness of how many lives are affected by it, and - most importantly - people are beginning to realize that there is no shame in seeking help when confronted by these issues. In this sense, things are moving in a good direction.

But when it comes to talking about mental illness, things become complicated.

On the one hand, insofar as terms like "illness," "sickness," and "disease" are heavily stigmatized, I can sympathize with the efforts of those who want to rid our vocabulary these words, since their usage can be harmful and hurtful. There is definitely merit in finding the most positive or neutral terms possible (e.g. "she has a developmental disability" vs. "she's mentally retarded,"  or "he is struggling with addiction" vs. "he's a junkie").

On the other hand, one must be careful not to go too far in the opposite direction. Treating terms like "illness," "sickness," and "disease" as horribly taboo can contribute to the stigma, instead of diminishing it. To react to the phrase "mental disorder" with "How DARE you!" and "Don't SAY that!" is to treat mental illness as a reprehensible thing that shouldn't even be uttered. There is a similar risk with those types of euphemisms mentioned in the preceding paragraph: when they are pushed to the point where they become contrived, phony, or see-through, they can backfire (e.g. I am sure that there are kids with Down Syndrome who do not want to be called "special," just as there are kids in wheelchairs who dislike being called "differently-abled").

Terminology is a tricky balancing act, to say the least, as is the case with most things that fall into the zone of potentially offensive speech. 

These musings led me to ponder what Judaism would have to say - not on the topic of what mental illness is, but on how to deal with the stigma of mental illness in the way we talk about it. My thoughts went to the words of the Rambam at the beginning of Hilchos Deos, Chapter 2:

Those who are physically ill taste the bitter as sweet and the sweet as bitter. Some of these sick individuals desire and crave as food things which are inedible, such as dirt and coal, and detest healthy foods, such as bread and meat – all according to the severity of the illness. 

So too, there are people whose souls are sick; they desire and love bad character traits, and they hate the good path and are lazy to follow it, and it is very burdensome upon them, based on their sickness. Thus, Yeshayahu says about such people: “Woe onto those who proclaim the bad as good and the good as bad, who treat darkness as light and light as darkness, who regard the bitter as sweet and the sweet as bitter” (Yeshayahu 5:20). Concerning these individuals it is said: “They abandon the paths of uprightness to walk in the paths of darkness” (Mishlei 2:13).

It was at this moment that I an "aha!" moment: we are ALL sick. Well, maybe not ALL of us, but certainly most of us. How many people can say that they don't want to engage in the behaviors associated with a bad character trait, or feel some resentment towards some aspect of the good path, or experience some degree of laziness and/or burden in following the good path? I don't know about you, but I am certainly guilty of regarding "the bad as good and the good as bad" in some areas of my life. 

To be clear: I am NOT categorically equating "DSM-5 classified" mental disorders with the "sicknesses of the soul" that the Rambam is discussing in Hilchos Deos. There may be some overlap, but that is not my intention in this comparison here. 

Rather, my point is that according to the Rambam, "sickness of the soul" is part of the human condition - just as much as "sickness of the body." In fact, these sicknesses are universal and congenital. We all begin life with this kind of sickness (with the exception of the mythical "perfect child" whose value system lines up perfectly with the True Good) and we must grow out of it as we develop our minds and our ability to properly exercise our free will.

Based on this, I would like to suggest the following approach: instead of trying to pretend that mental disorders are NOT disorders and excising all pathological terminology from our vocabulary, perhaps we would be better off broadening our concept of mental disorder to include those sicknesses of the soul that plague the general populace. 

I believe that awareness of the ubiquity of these types of illness can help us to further destigmatize mental illness. By recognizing that we all suffer from some form of sickness - whether physical, mental, or moral - it makes it that much easier to have empathy for our fellow human beings, even if the particular form of sickness they suffer differs from our own.

... or maybe I'm wrong, and this is yet another instance of me calling something good when really it's bad. Let me know what you think! 

Bruce Lee: On Lefum Tzaara Agra

Originally published in July 2013.

This picture of Bruce Lee learning Pirkei Avos may or may not be Photoshopped.

Bruce Lee: On Lefum Tzaara Agra

Pirkei Avos concludes with an oft-quoted teaching of Ben Hei Hei: לפום צערא אגרא (lefum tazaara agra). Although some like to translate this as "according to the effort is the reward," a Hebrew speaker will readily note that this is a poor rendition. צערא (tzaara) is the Aramaic translation of the Hebrew word צער (tzaar) which means "pain" or "suffering." A more accurate translation of Bein Hei Hei's statement would be: "according to the pain is the reward" or "according to the suffering is the reward."

I've heard this statement thrown around quite often, usually as a way of saying, "All that matters is how hard you try!" or "No pain, no gain!" (which, funnily enough, the Wikipedia article traces back to our mishnah). While there may be some truth in these common sayings, I don't think this is what Ben Hei Hei was getting at.

My rabbeim taught me that whenever I learn anything, I should always try to arrive at my own understanding first, and only afterwards consult the meforshim (commentaries). In that spirit, I wanted to share my own pre-meforshim understanding of lefum tzaara agra. My idea was inspired by a quotation from my Jeet Kune Do rebbi: Bruce Lee.

Bruce Lee taught: 

People have to grow by skillful frustrations – otherwise, they have no incentive to develop their own means and ways of coping with the world. 

We all have habits. The Rambam would call these "deos" or "character dispositions." Collectively, we refer to these habits as "our personality." By and large, these habits dictate our decision-making. When we find ourselves in unfamiliar situations, our habits influence the direction our minds go in deciding how to act. 

In order to perfect ourselves in any area of life, we must be willing to alter these habits. In order to change our habits, we must act contrary to them. Forcing ourselves to go against our habits may be painful and frustrating, but it is absolutely necessary for the sake of our development. The Rambam writes about this at length in the first and second chapters of Hilchos Deos.

The most painful habits to break are the ones which are rooted in what we value most. The more attached we are, the more painful it is to act against our habits. For example: dieting can be torturous for those who are accustomed to eating whatever they want, whenever they want; controlling one's temper can be extremely difficult for someone who is accustomed to unrestrained "venting"; keeping halacha can feel especially oppressive for those who were brought up living a non-halachic life. 

This is where Torah and mitzvos enter the picture. There is no area of our lives about which the Torah has nothing to say, whether in the derech ha'am or the derech ha'yachid. In every area of our lives, the Torah guides us away from our default habits and develops us in accordance with its objectives. 

So far, we have set forth three premises: (1) we are dominated by our habits; (2) acting contrary to our habits is painful; (3) the Torah compels us to act contrary to our habits for the sake of our development. Put it all together and we arrive at the following truth: Every major breakthrough in our Torah development will necessarily be accompanied by pain and frustration.

Think about it: how would it be possible to have a real breakthrough which doesn't run contrary to our habits, emotions, and personality? If someone claims to have had a breakthrough in Torah which is so in line with his or her present way of living and thinking that it doesn't cause any conflict, then I would seriously question the authenticity of this "breakthrough." 

The Rav writes about this phenomenon in "Footnote 4" of Halakhic Man:

Religion is not, at the outset, a refuge of grace and mercy for the despondent and desperate, an enchanted stream for crushed spirits, but a raging clamorous torrent of man’s consciousness with all its crises, pangs, and torments.Yes, it is true that during the third Sabbath meal at dusk, as the day of rest declines and man’s soul yearns for its Creator and is afraid to depart from that realm of holiness whose name is Sabbath, into the dark and frightening, secular workaday week, we sing the psalm, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters” (Ps. 23), etc., etc., and we believe with our entire hearts in the ultimate destination of the religious man, not the path leading to that destination. For the path that eventually will lead to the “green pastures” and to the “still waters” is not the royal road, but a narrow, twisting footway that threads its course along the steep mountain slope, as the terrible abyss yawns at the traveler’s feet.

Let us reexamine this idea in light of the aforementioned statement of Bruce Lee, which I will reiterate here: "People have to grow by skillful frustrations – otherwise, they have no incentive to develop their own means and ways of coping with the world." To borrow his terminology: the Torah spreads a 613-part layer of "skillful frustrations" over our lives, but instead of leaving us directionless to "develop our own means and ways of coping with the world" the "skillful frustrations" of Torah guide us towards human perfection in accordance with the wisdom of the Creator. 

This, I believe, is the meaning of lefum tzaara agra. Any* time we experience pain as a result of our progress in Torah, we can rest assured that the Torah regimen is doing its job: breaking our attachment to our detrimental habits and our default, emotional, fantasy-based view of reality and instilling within us beneficial habits while guiding us to a truer view of reality. 

According to this reading of our mishnah in Avos, lefum tzaara agra is not a prescriptive statement, but a descriptive statement. Ben Hei Hei isn't telling us, "You'd better power through the pain, because the more pain you endure, the more reward you'll get!" Rather, he's providing us with a useful perspective for monitoring our own development, saying, "If you are experiencing pain and frustration in your relationship with Torah, this isn't necessarily a bad thing! To the contrary, it is indicative of progress: the more pain you are experiencing, the more progress you are (potentially) making." This perspective can provide a much-needed jolt of motivation during those "spiritual crises, pangs, and torments" of which the Rav spoke.

This is how I imagine Bruce Lee would say, "Nice pshat!"

Well, that was my pre-meforshim interpretation of lefum tzaara agra. Do any meforshim learn this way? ... Not exactly. I have yet to see any meforshim on Avos itself who take even a remotely similar approach. The only leads I have found are the Meiri and the Rambam. The Meiri interprets agra (reward) here not as "reward" (as conventionally understood). Instead, he writes that agra refers to "the outcome [of our involvement in Torah], namely, the apprehension of the truth." Check out the rest of his commentary there. It's possible he's taking a similar approach, but I'm doubtful.

I am more optimistic about the Rambam. The Rambam brings down lefum tzaara agra in the sixth chapter of the Shemoneh Perakim in the context of chasid vs. kovesh es yitzro. Frankly, I don't have enough energy tonight to summarize his views and explain why I think my idea is on the same train of thought as his. Perhaps I'll do that in another post.

For now, let me know what you think of this idea. Specifically, let me know whether you think it is a good pshat, or whether it might be more of a drash, or whether it doesn't amount to either.

* Of course, this assumes that we are keeping Torah in the correct manner. It is certainly possible for a person to experience pain, conflict, and frustration based on a misunderstanding of Torah; this tzaara would not yield agra.