Halacha as a Playground of Mindfulness

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Halacha as a Playground of Mindfulness

Last week I saw a comic depicting a fishbowl floating in an ocean. The fish in the fishbowl is labeled “religion.” The fish in the water outside the fishbowl is labeled “spirituality.” The implication is that the spirituality fish is looking upon the religion fish with pity, as if to say, “You poor thing. Why do you insist on being confined to this fishbowl when you could be free in the open ocean, like me?”

The comic had been posted in a mindfulness group on Facebook. This is not the first time I’ve encountered an underlying streak of anti-religious sentiment among self-identified practitioners of mindfulness. I don’t blame the creator of the comic, nor do I blame those for whom the comic resonates. As an Orthodox Jew, I would even describe myself as “anti-religious.” (And if that sounds like a paradox, read my article, Is Judaism a Religion?) Still, it irks me when I see legitimate criticisms and complaints about other religions indiscriminately applied to Judaism, and this is a perfect example: the sentiment in this comic is the polar opposite of my own experience as an observant Jew who aspires to live a life of mindfulness.

I agree with the image and captioning of the comic, but I disagree with its implied value judgment. Orthodox Judaism is like a fishbowl in that it imposes restrictions on an otherwise unrestricted life. Those who choose not to observe halacha are like the fish in the ocean in that they aren’t confined. However, being unconfined is not the same as being free, and the boundaries of halacha constitute a path to true human freedom.

This is not a chidush (novel insight). I’ve given shiurim and written articles about my own take on the liberating qualities of halacha. My favorite of these articles is I Hate Sukkah (in a Good Way), in which I draw upon dialogue from My Dinner With Andre and the teachings of Bruce Lee to frame halacha as a system of “skillful frustrations” designed to promote our development as truth-seeking human beings.

But while I have written articles on the relationship between halacha and freedom, I haven’t addressed the relationship between halacha and mindfulness – specifically, the type of mindfulness valued by those who agree with the comic. Chapter 14 of Greg McKeown’s book, Essentialism: the Disciplined Pursuit of Less, is entitled: “Limit: the freedom of setting boundaries.” The author illustrates this counter-intuitive point with an anecdote:

This truth is demonstrated by the story of a school located next to a busy road. At first the children played only on a small swath of the playground, close to the building where the grownups could keep their eyes on them. But then someone constructed a fence around the playground. Now the children were able to play anywhere and everywhere on the playground. Their freedom, in effect, more than doubled.

Similarly, when we don’t set clear boundaries in our lives we can end up imprisoned by the limits others have set for us. When we have clear boundaries, on the other hand, we are free to select from the whole area – or the whole range of options – that we have deliberately chosen to explore.

Halacha transforms every aspect of life into an anchor for mindfulness. Our “fishbowls,” the boundaries created by our halachic obligations and restrictions, serve as our prompts. By surrounding ourselves with these manifold mindfulness prompts, we enjoy countless opportunities for awakening. And since all the mitzvos have reasons – to develop our intellects, our character traits, or to promote justice in society – these prompts not only pull us out of the trance of mindlessness, but they also develop us in specific ways. In other words, not only do they facilitate “awakening from,” but also “awakening to.” Halacha guides us towards mindfulness in everything we do.

For these reasons and more, I believe that the fish inside the bowl enjoys more freedom than the fish in the ocean.

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Naso: Twelve Identical Offerings

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Naso: Twelve Identical Offerings

The Question 

Without a doubt, the strangest section of Parashas Naso is its conclusion. Bamidbar Chapter 7 begins by establishing the narrative context: 

And it happened on the day Moshe finished setting up the Mishkan (Tabernacle) that he anointed it and consecrated it and all its furnishings, and he anointed them and consecrated them. And the leaders of Israel – the heads of their fathers’ houses, they are the leaders of the tribes, they are the ones who stand over the reckoning – brought forward and set their offering before Hashem … And the leaders brought forward the dedication offering of the altar on the day it was anointed, and the leaders brought forward their offering for the dedication of the altar. And Hashem said to Moshe: “One leader each day, one leader each day, shall offer his offerings for the dedication for the altar.” (Bamidbar 7:1-2,10-11) 

The first of these offerings is then described in detail: 

And the one who brought forward his offering on the first day was Nachshon ben Aminadav of the tribe of Yehudah. And his offering was one silver bowl, a hundred thirty shekels its weight, one silver basin, seventy shekels by the sanctuary shekel, both of them filled with fine flour mixed with oil for a grain offering. One golden ladle of ten shekels filled with incense. One bull from the herd, one ram, one yearling lamb for the burnt offering. One goat for an offense offering. And for the communion sacrifice two oxen, five rams, five he-goats, five yearling lambs. This is the offering of Nachshon ben Aminadav. (ibid. 7:12-17) 

And that’s when things start to get repetitive. The Torah goes on to describe the offering brought on the second day by the second tribal leader, Nesanel ben Tzuar. It is exactly the same offering, and its contents are spelled out in exactly the same words. The Torah continues in this manner with the third, fourth, and fifth identical offerings – all the way up to the twelfth. Each tribal leader brings exactly the same offering, which the pesukim describe in exactly the same way. It is as if Moshe Rabbeinu took these same six pesukim, with the same 66 words, and copied and pasted them eleven more times, then went back and changed the name of the tribal leader and in the ordinal designation of the day for each. 

This seemingly gratuitous repetition has astounded medieval and modern commentators alike. The Abravanel [1] raises this question explicitly: 

Why did the text here mention the offering of each leader in elaborate detail, considering that their offerings were exactly equal without any variation? It would have been enough for it to say about the first of them “this was the offering of Nachshon ben Aminadav” as an example, and afterwards for each and every day, “and likewise, so-and-so offered on the such-and-such day” – as opposed to writing the same thing twelve times, which is excessively repetitive and is a very strange thing. 

The modern translator and commentator, Robert Alter [2], notes how anomalous this section is: 

This is the one single instance in the entire Bible of extensive verbatim repetition without the slightest variation … Biblical narrative, as we have had many occasions to see, characteristically deploys significant swerves from verbatim repetition as it approximately repeats strings of phrases and whole clauses and sentences. This passage, however, is manifestly not narrative, but a kind of epic inventory. 

In simple terms the question is: Why did the Torah repeat the list of these twelve identical offerings verbatim when it only needed to list them once? 

The Simple Answer 

The most straightforward answer is given by several commentators, namely, that the Torah wanted to stress the absolute equality of the leaders and their offerings, for them and for us. The Bechor Shor [3] states that this was the reason why each leader was given his own day and why his offering was spelled out in detail, despite it being identical with the others: 

“one leader each day” – in order to give honor to the leaders, that each one would have his day; so too, a section [describing the offering] was written for each one of them, so that they would not become jealous of one another – for it could have written the first section and then said, “Thus did so-and-so, and thus so-and-so.” 

The Ramban [4] offers a similar explanation: 

The best reason for Scripture [stating each leader’s offering separately] is that Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu apportions honor to those who fear Him, as it was said: “for I honor those who honor Me” (I Shmuel 2:30). Now, all the leaders brought on the same day this offering upon which they agreed together, but it was impossible that one should not precede his fellow [in the actual offering. Therefore, Hashem] honored those that had precedence in the arrangement [of the camp] with precedence in the days [of offering,] but He wanted to mention them by name and their offerings in detail and to mention each one’s day, rather than [simply] mentioning and honoring the first one, [saying:] “This is the offering of Nachshon ben Aminadav” and [then] saying: “And so the leaders offered, each man on his day,” since that would have been an affront to the others’ honor. And afterwards He went and combined them [by stating the total quantities of the offerings] to teach that all of them were equal before Him, blessed is He. And thus [the Sages] said there in Sifrei: “Scripture teaches that just as [the leaders] were all equal with regard to the idea [of these offerings,] so were they equal with regard to the merit.” 

Alter [5] also favors this approach, depicting the Torah’s intended rhetorical effect as follows: 

Each of the tribes, here accorded absolutely equal status before the sanctuary without political hierarchy, brings exactly the same offering. One can readily imagine that the members of each tribe in the ancient audience of this text would be expected to relish the sumptuousness of its own tribal offering exactly equal to all the others, as it hears the passage read. 

Yet, as reasonable as this objective may be, was it really necessary to “waste” 726 needless words simply in order to demonstrate the equality of the tribal leaders? Surely the Torah could have found a more verbally efficient way to convey the same sentiment. For example, Chazal [6] interpret the Torah’s extremely concise statement: “and the sons of Yaakov were twelve” (Bereishis 35:22) “to teach that all of them are equal.” Likewise, on the pasuk: “they are Aharon and Moshe” (Shemos 6:26), Rashi [7] observes that “in some places Moshe precedes Aharon and in other places Aharon precedes Moshe in order to convey their equality.” So too here: the Torah could have stated the contents of the identical offerings and framed them in a manner which would have conveyed the equality of the tribal leaders. 

Two Midrashic Approaches 

The Abravanel notes that there are two categories of answers given in the midrashic literature: 

In [the midrashic collection] Bamidbar Sinai Rabbah (13:14) they expound “and his offering” in a different manner, saying: “Why did the leaders see fit to bring their offerings in this manner? The Rabbis say: even though their offerings were the same, each one brought them [in order to allude] to great principles, each and every one in accordance with his own intent.” Likewise, Rebbi Shimon (ibid.) expounded: “Why does the pasuk say, ‘from the leaders of Israel’? This teaches that they donated of their own accord.” Consequently, each one’s offering was equal in its value, its quantity, and its weight. In other words, each and every one was motivated by himself to offer these items mentioned in the pasuk in accordance with his own intention, in order to allude to the concepts in his own mind … 

The midrash then proceeds to expound on the symbolism of each leader’s offering in accordance with a specific theme. For example, the tribe of Yehuda is the tribe of malchus (Kingship), and its tribal leader intended each detail of his offering to allude to different ideas about malchus. The tribe of Yissachar was known for its prowess in Torah, and its tribal leader intended each detail of his offering to allude to concepts about Torah. And so on for each of the other ten tribes. After paraphrasing [8] the themes of each of these offerings based on this midrash, the Abravanel concludes: 

The general thrust of this view is that each of the leaders made his offering in accordance with his own intentions which differed from the intentions of the other leaders. Thus, their offerings were the same, but their intentions were different. 

Next, the Abravanel cites an opposing view stated in the same midrash: 

However, Rebbi Pinchas ben Yair held that all of the leaders had a single intention and a single allusion in mind, namely, [that their offerings] correspond to the generations from Adam ha’Rishon until the Mishkan. 

For example, the first item in the offering was “one silver bowl (kaaras kesef), a hundred and thirty shekels its weight.” The phrase “kaaras kesef” has a numerical value of which is 930, which represents Adam ha’Rishon who lived for 930 years. The fact that there was only one such bowl represents Chava, since she was created from him. Its weight of 130 shekels represents the 130 years that Adam separated from Chava before they reunited and had their third son. The second item in the offering was “one silver basin (mizrak echad), seventy shekels by the sanctuary shekel.” The phrase “mizrak” (from Z.R.Q., meaning “to throw”) represents Noach, who was “thrown out” of the Generation of the Flood. Its weight of 70 shekels corresponds to the 70 nations that emerged from him. And so on. 

Even though I tend to favor pshat, I find that both of these approaches provide a more satisfactory answer to our question than the pshat explanations cited above. If these offerings were intended to convey ideas through the symbolism of their particulars, then the Torah going out of its way to emphasize these particulars is a great way to draw the mind. According to the first midrashic approach, each offering is restated in full because each detail has its own ideational content. According to the second midrashic approach, each offering is restated in full in order to underscore the unanimity of the tribal leaders in their common intent. 

The Methodological Underpinnings of These Midrashic Approaches 

No matter how appealing these symbolic interpretations may be, one cannot help but wonder: “How did the authors of these midrashim know what the tribal leaders intended to symbolize in their offerings?” 

For those who believe that midrashim were given at Sinai, along with the rest of Torah she’baal Peh (the Oral Torah), the answer is simple: mesorah (an oral tradition). But for those who follow the mainstream approach, [9] maintaining that midrashim reflect the views of their authors, the answer is even simpler: the authors of these midrashim didn’t know the intentions of the tribal leaders. Rather, these midrashim reflect their own speculative theories which may or may not correspond to what the tribal leaders actually intended. 

This attempt to find meaning in the details of the leaders’ offerings is reminiscent of an approach mentioned by the Rambam. The Rambam states that it is incumbent upon every person to seek out the reasons for the mitzvos of the Torah. This injunction applies to both categories of mitzvos: to mishpatim, those mitzvos whose reasons are evident, and to chukim, the mitzvos whose reasons are hidden. At the end of Hilchos Me’ilah the Rambam [10] writes: 

It is proper for a person to contemplate the laws of the Holy Torah and to know their ultimate concepts according to his ability. If he doesn't find a reason and doesn't know a cause of something, it should not be less in his eyes, nor should he break forth to ascend to Hashem lest He burst forth against him, nor should he think of it as a mundane matter … a person should not kick against them just because he doesn’t know their reasons, nor should he ascribe matters which are not true onto Hashem, nor should he think about them as he thinks about mundane matters. It was stated in the Torah: “And you shall guard all of my chukim (statutes) and all of my mishpatim (judgments) and you shall do them” (Vayikra 19:37; 20:22). The Sages said that we should apply shmirah (guarding) and asiyah (doing) to chukim in the same manner as mishpatim. The [meaning of] “asiyah” is evident: namely, that we should do the chukim. The [meaning] of “shmirah” is that we must be careful with them and not imagine that they are less than mishpatim. The mishpatim are the mitzvos whose benefits in this world are evident, such as the prohibitions of stealing and murder, and honoring one's father and mother. And the chukim are the mitzvos whose reasons are not evident. The Sages said: “[These are] the statutes that I have inscribed for you, and you do not have permission to be suspicious about them, and man’s yetzer (inclination) confronts him regarding them, and the nations of the world dispute them.” Examples include the prohibition of [eating] pork, meat and milk, the decapitated calf, the red heifer, and the goat which is sent away. 

In this excerpt the Rambam speaks of "finding" the “cause” of the chukim – the actual reasons why they were commanded. In contrast, at the end of Hilchos Temurah [11] he writes: 

Even though all of the chukim of the Torah are [Divine] decrees, as we explained at the end of Hilchos Meilah, it is proper to contemplate them; anything for which you can give a reason, you should give a reason. The Early Sages said that Shlomo ha’Melech understood the majority of reasons for all of the chukim of the Torah. 

All of these matters [in Hilchos Temurah] are to subdue man’s inclination and to correct his character traits. And the majority of the laws of the Torah are but counsels from afar, from the Great Counselor, to correct [our] character traits and to make all [of our] actions upright. Likewise, it is written: “Surely, I have written for you extremely noble things, with counsel and knowledge, to teach you the veracity of true words, so that you may answer words of truth to those who send word to you” (Mishlei 22:20-21). 

Here the Rambam does not speak about finding the “cause” of the chukim. Instead, he states, “anything for which you can give a reason, you should give a reason.” In other words, in contrast to the approach of Hilchos Me'ilah, the approach of Hilchos Temurah is not to attempt to find the actual reason why Hashem commanded us to keep this mitzvah in all of its particulars. Rather, the objective is to ascribe meaning to the structure of this mitzvah in order to transform it from an incomprehensible ritual into “counsels from afar, from the Great Counselor, to correct our character traits and make all of our actions upright.” Whether or not our explanations correspond to the Divine intent is irrelevant. What matters is that our explanation renders the mitzvah into a vehicle for perfection. 

If we were to interpret Chazal’s explanations of the offerings of the tribal leaders as the type of analysis advocated by Hilchos Me’ilah, we would have ample grounds for suspicion. How could the authors of the midrashim know with such precision what the tribal leaders had in mind? But if we understand these midrashim in the sense of Hilchos Temurah, then the ingenuity of these symbolic interpretations becomes a feature, rather than a bug. The more ideas of human perfection we can associate with the details of these chukim and the stronger the association, the better.

These two methods for understanding taamei ha’mitzvos (the reasons for the commandments) ought to be kept in mind whenever one encounters a theory about why the structure of a mitzvah is the way it is. It is easy to dismiss an “explanation” of a mitzvah on the grounds of being speculative if one assumes that the explanation is being offered as a theory about the cause of the mitzvah, in the vein of Hilchos Me’ilah. But if one allows for Hilchos Temurah type explanations, then homiletic creativity is a boon.

[1] Don Yitzchak Abravanel, Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar, Introduction to Chapter 7, Question #8 

[2] Robert Alter, The Five Books of Moses: A Translation with Commentary (2004), pp. 716-717 

[3] Rabbeinu , Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 7:11 

[4] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 7:13 

[5] ibid. Alter adds another explanation: “It is also well to remember that lists and the repetitions they entail constitute an established literary form with its own aesthetic pleasures – as, for example, in the catalogue of the ships in the Iliad or in the cumulative repetitive structures of songs like Had Gadya (‘An Only Kid’) and, more apposite to this catalogue of gifts, ‘On the Twelve Days of Christmas.’” 

[6] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis 35:22, paraphrasing Shabbos 55b. 

[7] ibid. Commentary on Sefer Shemos 6:26 

[8] In case you’re wondering about the themes of each tribe, here is the Abravanel’s summary: Zevulun’s is about his partnership with Yissachar, Reuven’s is about saving Yosef, Shimon’s is about the order of the Mishkan, Gad’s is about Amram and his descendents, Ephraim’s is about Yaakov’s blessings of Yosef’s sons, Menashe’s is about Yaakov’s transfer of the bechorah status from Reuven to Yosef, Binyamin’s is about the offspring of Rachel, Dan’s is about Shimshon, Asher’s is about Israel as Hashem’s Chosen People, Naftali’s is about the Avos and Imahos; as you can see, some of these themes are directly connected to the identity of the tribe, whereas others are only loosely connected, or are not apparently connected at all. 

[9] See https://kolhaseridim.blogspot.com/2014/07/parashas-balak-on-citing-midrash-as.html

[10] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer Avodah, Hilchos Me’ilah 8:8

[11] ibid. Sefer ha'Korbanos, Hilchos Temurah 4:14

Parashas Emor: Does Hashem Hate Unibrows?

Does Hashem hate unibrows? No, of course not! But then why does the Torah ban a Kohen with a unibrow from serving in the Beis ha’Mikdash? In this dvar Torah we will examine the nature of these physical disqualifications and consider their implications within the Torah system as a whole.

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Parashas Emor: Does Hashem Hate Unibrows? 

Parashas Emor introduces the prohibition for a physically blemished Kohen to perform avodah (service) in the Beis ha’Mikdash (Holy Temple): “Any man from among the offspring of Aharon the Kohen who has a blemish shall not approach to offer the fire-offerings of Hashem” (Vayikra 21:21). This parallels the prohibition to offer blemished animals as offerings, which is also discussed in this parashah: “Any [animal offering] in which there is a blemish you shall not offer, for it will not be favorable for you” (ibid. 22:20). 

The pesukim (verses) specify a number of examples of both categories of blemishes which are expanded upon in great detail by Torah she’baal Peh (the Oral Torah). There are a total of 140 physical blemishes that disqualify a Kohen from avodah, 90 of which are unique to human beings, and 50 of which are common to Kohanim and animals. The halacha classifies these 140 blemishes by their location on the body. In order to appreciate the nature and scope of these blemishes, here are a few examples from each category: 

• head (misshapen skull, various forms of baldness)
• neck (too short, too long)
• ears (blindness, too small, asymmetrical in size) 
• eyebrows (unibrow, asymmetrical in appearance)
• eyelids (no eyelashes, too squinty)
• eyes (abnormal positioning, abnormal shape, abnormal size)
• nose (abnormal positioning, abnormal shape, abnormal size)
• lips (over/under-bite, cracked lips, frequent spittle)
• belly (swollen, "outie" navel)
• back (crooked spine, hunchback)
• hands (abnormal number of fingers, webbed fingers, left-handed person)
• reproductive organs (abnormal size, injured scrotum, missing testicle)
• legs (bowlegged, abnormal number of toes, clicking ankles)
• stature (disproportionate trunk, abnormal height)
• skin (albino, very red skin, any type of mole, scarring)
• miscellaneous (deaf, epileptic, suffering from tremors on account of sickness or old age, suffering from severe depression, bad body odor) 

The major question here is: Why should these blemishes disqualify a Kohen from avodah? Does Hashem have something against physically blemished individuals? Does He find clicking ankles to be annoying? Does He regard albinos as subhuman? Does bad B.O. spoil the “fragrant aroma” (Vayikra 1:9) of the burnt offerings? Indeed, some modern readers may find these laws to be not only questionable, but morally reprehensible, and accuse the Torah of stoking the flames of certain forms of discrimination, such as ableism, ageism, and other prejudices. 

Before offering an answer, we will briefly respond to the types of charges against Torah mentioned in the aforementioned paragraph. Renowned pathologist Dr. J. Beckwith begins his historical essay, Congenital Malformations: from Superstition to Understanding, as follows: 

Throughout most of human history, congenital anomalies were perceived as omens, portents, or punishments of supernatural origin. This concept is reflected in the term “monster,” probably derived from the Latin verb monstrare (to show or reveal). Other explanations for congenital abnormalities included witchcraft, astrological configurations, or emotional experiences of the pregnant mother. 

Individuals suffering from physical deformities and bodily abnormalities were feared, shunned, and ostracized in many cultures, especially in ancient times. Dr. Beckwith elaborates on this phenomenon, citing an example from a neighboring ancient civilization to ours: 

Birth defects were interpreted as omens or portents in many early cultures. For example, Babylonian–Assyrian cuneiform tablets include an extensive catalog of anomalies believed to represent omens, some of which are clearly based upon observation of actual cases. 

Torah society stands in stark contrast to these prevailing views and attitudes in the ancient world. Judaism does not regard individuals with physical abnormalities to be inferior in any way to any other person. There is no discrimination when it comes to their religious observance nor are there any limitations to their roles in the community (with the sole exception of Kohanim in Mikdash). These individuals were never regarded as “cursed” or “harbingers of evil” or anything that even remotely negative. Indeed, the Sages decreed that a blessing should be recited upon seeing such an individual: “Blessed are You, Hashem, our God, King of the universe, Who makes creations different.” In other words, physical abnormalities are not viewed as negative, but are regarded positively as expressions of the wisdom and magnificence of the Creator. Moreover, the Torah clearly states that the essence of the human being is the tzelem Elokim (truth-seeking intellect) – not the physical body. Thus, there are no grounds for the assumption that a person should have lesser value in the eyes of God simply because his or her body looks different.

Of course, this only strengthens our question! These laws of Kohanim’s blemishes are an anomaly – the only Torah laws which, on the surface, seem to stigmatize physical imperfections. 

The Sefer ha’Chinuch (Mitzvah #275) answers this question as follows: 

At the root of this mitzvah lies the reason that the majority of people’s actions are favorable to the hearts of those who see them in accordance of the eminence of those who do them. For when a man is distinguished in his appearance and good in his actions, he “will find favor and good success” (Mishlei 3:4) in everything he does in the eyes of all who observe him. If, however, he is the opposite of this – inferior in his form or peculiar in his limbs – then even if he is straight in his ways, his activities will not be so attractive to the heart of those who see him. 

It is therefore truly fitting that the messenger (i.e. the Kohen), on whom atonement depends, should be a man of grace, handsome in appearance and fair in features, and pleasing in all his ways – that the minds of men may be drawn to him. And in addition to this, it is possible that in the perfection of his form lies an intimation of matters through which, as a man’s thoughts dwell on them, his spirit will be cleansed and exalted. 

It is therefore not right in any way that there should be in him [the Kohen] any deviation in any of his forms whatsoever, lest the spirit of the contemplator be distracted on account of the peculiarity and stray from the desired goal. 

According to the Sefer ha’Chinuch, physically blemished Kohanim were not barred from performing the avodah on account of any inherent deficiency or inadequacy on their part. Rather, as we say nowadays, it was all about “the optics.” The Beis ha’Mikdash is meant to be an awe-inspiring place, as the Sefer ha’Chinuch describes (Mitzvah #95): 

Hashem desired the good for human beings, as we have stated. Therefore He commanded us to establish a location that should be pure and clean to the ultimate degree of cleanliness, to purify there the thoughts of people and to rectify and perfect their hearts towards Him. 

Indeed, it is a mitzvah to be in awe of Mikdash, as the Sefer ha’Chinuch writes (Mitzvah #254): 

[He commanded us] to have a reverent awe of the Sanctuary: in other words, that we should regard and establish it in our souls as the place of awe and veneration, so that our hearts will be moved when we come there to pray or to bring offerings, as it is stated: “and you shall revere My Sanctuary” (Vayikra 19:30). 

The Sefer ha’Chinuch’s explanation of the Kohanim’s blemishes is built upon this idea, namely, that in order to produce the proper degree of awe, reverence, and inspiration in those come to the Beis ha’Mikdash, the Kohanim had to be flawless in their appearance. Anything less would detract from the intended effect of the Sanctuary, which was to inspire the visiting Jews to emulate the priestly models of avodah who ministered therein. 

A modern example of this phenomenon can be drawn from the world of fashion. Clothing companies know that in order to sell their products, they must use flawlessly attractive models, in ads and in clothing stores. These companies know that the vast majority of individuals will never live up to the beauty standards of these models, but will nevertheless purchase this clothing hoping that they will partake of some level of attractiveness, like these models. 

Just as attractive models enhance the attractiveness of the clothing they wear and cause the onlookers to aspire to this level of attractiveness, the same is true of the Kohanim. These are individuals who have devoted their lives to Hashem, to learning and teaching Torah, and to giving up their private civilian roles in order to live a life apart as models of avodas Hashem. They are intended to be the equivalent of Hollywood celebrities, epitomizing the life of chochmah (wisdom) and divine service rather than the life of fame and glamour. We are meant to look up to them and want to be like them, knowing full well that their lifestyle will likely be outside of our reach. When a Jew makes a pilgrimage to the Beis ha’Mikdash and sees Kohanim in action, he should be filled with a sense of awe and admiration. If that Kohen were blemished in any way, this would shatter the illusion and dilute the effect, thereby impeding the fundamental mission of Mikdash. 

This is why physical blemishes only disqualify Kohanim from their role in avodah, and do not invalidate any other Jew from doing any other mitzvah. Only Kohanim in the awe-inspiring Mikdash occupy this celebrity status in Judaism. There are other classes of individuals who are to be admired and emulated – such as talmidei chachamim (Torah scholars), tzadikim (righteous people), chasidim (pious people) – but none of these individuals function in the same capacity as the Kohanim of Mikdash. “For the lips of the Kokhen should safeguard knowledge, and people should seek teaching from his mouth, for he is an angel of Hashem, Master of Legions” (Malachi 2:7). Just as the true “angels of Hashem” are pristine in their metaphysical purity, so must their earthly counterparts be pristine in their physicality. 

I believe that this gives us some insight into the Torah’s general approach in mitzvos. The Rambam (Moreh ha’Nevuchim 3:32), in his famous explanation of korbanos (sacrifices), writes: 

Many commandments in our Torah are the result of a similar course adopted by the same Director, for it is impossible to go suddenly from one extreme to the other; therefore, it is impossible for man – according to human nature – to suddenly discontinue everything to which he has been accustomed. 

The Rambam applies this to korbanos, explaining that it would have been too much for Hashem to completely abolish a mode of worship to which the people had become so attached. He cites an example of Hashem using this approach in a non-mitzvah area: 

There occurs in the Torah a passage which contains exactly the same idea; it is the following: “God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, even though it was near, for God said, ‘lest the people change their mind when they see war, and return to Egypt;’ but God led the people around, by way of the wilderness of the Sea of Reeds” (Shemos 13:17). Here Hashem led the people around, away from the direct road which He originally intended, because He was concerned that they might meet on that way with hardships too great for their ordinary strength; He took them by another road in order to obtain thereby His original goal. In the same manner Hashem refrained from commanding what the people by their natural disposition would be incapable of obeying, and gave the aforementioned commandments as a means of accomplishing His primary goal– namely, knowledge of Him, and the rejection of avodah zarah. 

The disqualifying blemishes of the Kohanim are another example of this phenomenon. On the one hand, the Torah does not assign any inherent value to physical attractiveness. At the same time, the Torah recognizes that it is human nature to care about physical appearances. The Torah can emphasize time and again that the essence of a human being is the tzelem Elokim and that true success lies in the pursuit of knowledge rather than beauty, but at the end of the day, the average Jew will still look askance at a Kohen with a unibrow, will be distracted by a Kohen who is an albino, and will be put off by a Kohen with bad body odor. 

In other words, the Torah must walk a fine line between its idealistic goal of perfecting human beings and the pragmatic realities of catering to human nature. That line can only be drawn by the Creator of man, “the God of the spirits of all flesh” (Bamidbar 16:22). Shlomo ha’Melech said: “Train the youth in accordance with his way (i.e. his nature), and even when he is old, he will not deviate from it” (Mishlei 22:6), and the same pedagogical tactic is employed by the Giver of Torah.

Parashas Balak: Bilam as a Teacher of Ethics

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Artwork: Skirsdag Flayer, by Austin Hsu

Parashas Balak: Bilam as a Teacher of Ethics

Earlier this week I made the following comment on Facebook: "We all have our least-favorite parshiyos, and Balak is mine." A friend of mine, no doubt trying to appeal to my interests, replied that he views Balak as one of the "Mishlei parshiyot, illustrating archetypes of various, mostly negative, character traits." His comment got me thinking. I associated to a mishnah in Avos 5:19 (or 22):

Whoever has the following three traits is among the students of Avraham Avniu, and [whoever has] three different traits is among the students of the wicked Bilam. Those who have an ayin tovah (good eye), a ruach nemuchah (humble spirit), and a nefesh shefalah (lowly soul) are among the students of Avraham Avinu. Those who have an ayin raah (bad eye), a ruach gevohah (arrogant spirit), and a nefesh rechavah (greedy soul) are among the students of the wicked Bilam. 

How are the students of Avraham Avinu different from the students of the wicked Bilam? The students of Avraham Avinu enjoy [the fruits of their good deeds] in Olam ha'Zeh (This World) and inherit Olam ha'Ba (the World to Come), as it is stated: "To cause those who love Me to inherent [an everlasting] possession (i.e. Olam ha'Ba), and I will fill their storehouses (in Olam ha'Zeh)" (Mishlei 8:21). But the students of the wicked Bilam inherit Gehinom and descend into the Be'er Shachas (the Well of Destruction), as it is stated: "And You, O God, shall lower them into the well of destruction, men of bloodshed and deceit shall not live out half their days; but as for me, I will trust in You" (Tehilim 55:54).

The Rambam [1] provides a full elucidation of this mishnah:

We have already explained several times that "ayin tovah" means histapkus (contentedness with what one has) "nefesh shefalah" refers to prishus (separation from sexual indulgence), and "ruach nemuchah" refers to anavah mufleges (excessive humility), as has been explained in the previous chapter. 

The three [other traits mentioned by the mishnah] are the opposite: lehitus ha'mamon (craving after money), which is "ayin raah," taavas ha'mishgal (sexual lust) is "nefesh rechavah," and gaavah (haughtiness) is "ruach gevohah." 

The three [aforementioned] virtues are widely known to be associated with Avraham Avinu. Therefore, anyone who has these three virtues is called "a student of Avraham," since he conducts himself with [Avraham's] traits. Likewise, anyone who has these three vices is "a student of Bilam," since he conducts himself with [the latter's] traits. 

I will now mention the places in which these virtues are explained in relation to Avraham Avinu and these vices in relation to Bilam - all of which are pesukim in the Torah. 

Avraham Avinu's ayin tovah is [reflected] in his statement to the King of Sedom: "Neither a thread nor a shoelace will I take from anything that is yours" (Bereishis 14:23), for this is the utmost degree of histapkus, for he gave up a huge amount of money and didn't profit from it even in the slightest degree. "Prishus" we see from his statement to Sarah when he came to Egypt: "Behold! Now I know that you are a woman of beautiful appearance" (ibid. 12:11), and the [Oral Torah's] explanation comes [and explains] that he had never fully gazed at her beauty before that day, which is the utmost degree of prishus. It also said regarding Hagar, after he married her: "Behold! Your maidservant is in your hand" (ibid. 16:6), which implies that he had no involvement in enjoying her or behaving flirtatiously with her [prior to then]; and when Sarah asked to send her away with Yishmael, the pasuk testifies that it this was only difficult for him because of the matter of Yishmael alone, in order to clear him of the suspicion that he was sexually inclined towards [Hagar] - all of these are signs of prishus - as it was stated, "and the matter concerning Avram's son greatly displeased him" (ibid. 21:11). As for humility - this is [reflected] in his statement: "I am dust and ashes" (ibid. 18:27). 

Bilam's craving for money was publicized when he came from Aram Naharayim on account of the money with which he was hired to harm Israel, as it is stated: "and because he hired Bilam ben Beor from Pesor in Aram Naharayim to curse you" (Devarim 23:5). The sexual lust [of Bilam] is reflected in how he advised Balak to set loose the [Midianite] women to engage in promiscuity with Israel and to be harlots; were it not for this disposition of sexual lust in his soul - which the matter was pleasing and desirable to him - he wouldn't have commanded [them] to do this, for a person's commandments are the reflection of his mind, since good people do not command others to do bad things, but to avoid them. The pasuk says: "Behold! - they caused Bnei Yisrael, by the word of Bilam, to commit a betrayal against Hashem regarding the matter of Peor" (Bamidbar 31:16), and the Sages said: "Bilam would have sexual relations with his donkey" (Sanhedrin 105a). Without a doubt, someone whose thoughts were this way would have [engaged in such] actions. But his haughtiness is [reflected] in the statement "The words of the one who hears the sayings of God [and knows the knowledge of the Supreme One, who sees the vision of Shaddai, while fallen and with uncovered eyes" (Bamidbar 24:16).

My friend's statement about the contents of Parashas Balak is correct: Chazal's interpretation of Parashas Balak is quite Mishleic indeed!

But this raises a question: Why did Chazal in Avos even need to explain these virtues and vices through Avraham and Bilam? Why couldn't the mishnah have just said: "Anyone who has these three traits is praiseworthy ... anyone who has these three vices is worthy of condemnation," or something like that? Why did Chazal frame these ethical teachings in terms of specific individuals?

The Ralbag [2] answers this question in his explanation of the Torah regimen and its parts:

The second part [of the Torah regimen] encompasses ethical-political wisdom in those areas in which commandment and prohibition are not possible, due to the improbability of attaining perfection of this nature among the masses of people to the same degree as it is possible [to attain perfection] in the realm of Torah-mitzvos. 

For example, if the Torah commanded us to only get angry over something that is worth getting angry about, and in the proper measure, and in the proper place, and at the proper time; or to only be happy about what is worthy of being happy about, and in the proper measure, and in the proper place, and at the proper time; and to only overpower someone who is proper to overpower, and in the proper measure, and at the proper place, and at the proper time; and likewise with all of the other traits and dispositions – [if the Torah did this,] all people would be in a continual state of sin, with the exception of an extreme minority. 

Matters of this nature are not fitting to be subject to command and prohibition, for this will bring people to be more lax in their fulfillment of the other mitzvos, once they see that it is impossible to fulfill many mitzvos of the Torah. For this reason, the Torah teaches us about these matters by telling us stories of our predecessors, who were widely known for their perfection of behavior, in order to guide us to follow in their footsteps and to emulate their behavior. And [the Torah] also told us stories of some of the despicable actions they did, and the harmful consequences that came from them, in order that we avoid doing these actions. 

According to the Ralbag, Hashem could have legislated ethical-political middos-development through halacha - that is, He could have commanded us in laws regulating anger and joy which were as detailed as the laws regulating kashrut and Shabbos - but He didn't do this. Why not? Because it would be impossible for people to adhere to this degree of self-control in their emotions, reactions, and dispositions, and they would inevitably sin. And because people would violate these laws constantly, and be in a constant state of sin, the observance of Torah as a whole would suffer, since people would begin regarding the other areas of halacha with greater laxity and less diligence out of sheer hopelessness.

In order to solve this problem, Hashem incorporated ethical-political development into the Torah regimen through role-models, both good and bad. There are several advantages to this method of inculcating ethics:

(1) This allows for a more flexible, personalized, circumstances-dependent path of ethical-political development for each individual, rather than the rigid, uniform, exacting medium of halachic legislation.

(2) By embedding these ethical-political guidelines in concrete cases involving actual people, it becomes much easier for students of all levels to learn from the behavior of these role models on a variety of levels. Instead of learning abstract principles about humility and haughtiness, the students of Torah can look at people like Avraham, Moshe, Bilam, and Haman, and derive developmentally appropriate lessons from the concrete examples, all in accordance with the developmental level of the student. 

(3) Psychologically there are a number of advantages to learning proper and improper middos from role models - too many to specify in this blog post. Perhaps the best proof of this is that the Torah commandment which obligates to develop good middos is "ve'halachta bi'drachav" - "you shall walk in His ways" (Devarim 28:9). Hashem didn't simply say, "Get good middos!" but rather, "Emulate My ways." Hashem was even willing to compromise the presentation of His Oneness by exponentially multiplying the number of anthropomorphic descriptions of Him in the Torah. That is how important it was to Him (so to speak) to utilize this method of ethical instruction in His Torah. 

This sheds a new light on why the Rambam devoted so much space to bringing proofs from the pesukim to show how the three virtues and three vices are reflected in the Torah's accounts of Avraham and Bilam. His objective isn't just to bring proofs for the mishnah's contentions, but to direct our attention to read the Scriptural narratives about these two people through the ethical lens provided by the mishnah.

According to the Ralbag, we should read ALL of the narratives in the Torah about ALL of the main figures through this ethical lens. Indeed, the Ralbag follows this approach in his Nach commentaries. At the end of every section, he identifies toaliyos b'middos (ethical lessons) that we learn from the behavior and decisions of the Torah's tzadikim (righteous people) and reshaim (wicked people).

And this brings us back to my initial feelings about Parashas Balak. Not only was my friend correct to point me to the Mishleic nature of this parashah, but in doing so, he reminded me that this framework can and should be applied to ALL of the Torah's narrative accounts.

Apparently, Parashas Balak is more interesting than I realized! I just needed the right approach.

[1] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah: Avos Chapter 5
[2] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on the Torah: Introduction

I Hate Sukkah (in a Good Way)

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My Dinner with Andre (1981)

I Hate Sukkah (in a Good Way)

Exordium

I hate the mitzvah of sukkah.

"Whoa there, buddy!" one might object. "Hate is a strong word!"

Yes - and it is a strong feeling I have towards the mitzvah of sukkah ... but only at very specific times, under a narrow set of conditions.

I love the mitzvah of sukkah at the onset of Yom Tov, when we first make kiddush and say the berachah of leishev ba'sukkah. I love the mitzvah of sukkah the first night, when I sleep beneath the s'chach under the stars. I love Yom Tov afternoons when the air is cool and the sun is warm and I curl up with a nice book in my sukkah and read the afternoon away. In fact, I love the mitzvah of sukkah for most of the holiday. 

But when do I hate it? Usually on the 4th or 5th night, at around 10pm, when I'm ready to go to sleep, and the forecast says 15% chance of rain between 11pm and 2am, and it's warm inside and it's cold outside, and I haven't gotten a restful sleep for days, and it's windy but not windy enough, and I want to catch a cold so I'm patur (exempt) but I'm not actually sick yet, and I haven't taken my usual Yom Tov nap because then I'd have to sleep outside, and the vast majority of the people I interact with over the holiday don't sleep in their sukkot because they don't know it's obligatory or they think they have a heter (halachic license to get out of the obligation) or they actually have a heter, but regardless of the reason I must suffer my sukkah-angst in isolation from most of my fellow Jews, and everyone is talking about how nice the weather has been and all I can wish for is torrential rain and meteorological misery so that I can spend the rest of the holiday safe and sound in my own bed indoors, and I am filled with religious guilt for having such a hostile attitude towards one of the 613 mitzvos, and then I am filled with philosophical guilt over my religious guilt, and then I am filled with existential grief over the fact that I am a pathetic psyche-laden intellect in a physical body in a physical universe obligated in a physical mitzvah designed to help me transcend my attachment to the physical and all I can do is complain about my discomfort. 

That is when I hate the mitzvah of sukkah.

But I call this hatred a "good" hatred because it is by design, and it was designed for my benefit - as is the case with all mitzvos. 

Sukkah as a "Skillful Frustration"

I have written on previous occasions about Bruce Lee's concept of "skillful frustrations." Bruce Lee taught that "People have to grow by skillful frustrations – otherwise, they have no incentive to develop their own means and ways of coping with the world." In these articles I have explained how the entire system of mitzvos can be thought of as a regimen of "skillful frustrations" which facilitates each person's development as a tzelem Elokim (truth-seeking intellect).

The mitzvah of sukkah is a perfect example of this. Let us review the basic halachos, as codified by the Rambam in Hilchos Shofar, Sukkah, v'Lulav:

6:5 – What is the mitzvah of sukkah? That a person should eat, drink, and dwell in a sukkah for all seven days, both by day and by night, just like he dwells in his home during the other days of the year. For all seven days a person should make his home temporary and his sukkah permanent, as it is stated: “In sukkos shall you dwell for seven days” (Vayikra 23:42) How? His attractive utensils and attractive bedding [should be brought] to the sukkah. His drinking utensils - i.e., his cups and crystal pitchers - [should be brought] to the sukkah. However, utensils used for food - i.e., pans and plates - [may be left] outside the sukkah. A candelabra [should be brought] to the sukkah. However, if the sukkah is small, it should be left outside the sukkah.

6:6 – We eat and drink and sleep in the sukkah all seven days, both by day and by night. And it is prohibited to eat a meal outside of the sukkah for all seven days, unless he ate a “temporary eating” of a k’beitzah or less or a little more. And we do not sleep outside of the sukkah, even a nap. It is permissible to drink water and eat fruits outside of the sukkah, but someone who is strict with himself and doesn’t even drink water outside of the sukkah is praiseworthy.

6:7 – Eating on the first night of Sukkos is obligatory, and even if one only ate a kazayis of bread, he has fulfilled his obligation. From then and on it is optional: if one wants to eat a meal, he must eat it in the sukkah, but if he only wants to eat fruits or nuts for the entire seven days, he may heat outside of the sukkah - just like the law of eating matzah on Pesach.

6:9 – Throughout the seven days [of the festival], a person should read in the sukkah. However, when he attempts to comprehend what he reads in depth and appreciate its details, he should do so outside the sukkah, so that his mind will be settled. When a person prays, he may pray inside the sukkah or outside the sukkah, as he desires.

As you can see, the mitzvah of sukkah takes all of the activities of our daily existence - eating, drinking, sleeping, learning, praying - and skillfully frustrates them by either forcing us to do them in the sukkah, or by forcing us to analyze whether we need to do them in the sukkah. Halacha makes it impossible to fall back on our habits.

This reminds me of a scene from the movie My Dinner with Andre (1981), in which Andre tells Wally about a friend of his named ROC who would implement his own "skillful frustrations," just to change things up. This topic leads them to a broader discussion which parallels our analysis of the mitzvah of sukkah. I will underline the most pertinent passages for emphasis:

ANDRE: But ROC used to practice certain exercises, like, uh, for instance, if he were right-handed, all today he would do everything with his left hand. All day, eating, writing, everything ... opening doors ... in order to break the habits of living. Because the great danger, he felt, for him, was to fall into a trance, out of habit. He had a whole series of very simple exercises that he had invented just to keep seeing, feeling, remembering. Because you have to learn now. It didn't used to be necessary, but today you have to learn something, like, uh ... are you really hungry or are you just stuffing your face because that's what you do, out of habit? I mean, you can afford to do it, so you do it, whether you're hungry or not. 

ANDRE: You know, if you go to the Buddhist Meditation Center, they make you taste each bite of your food ... so it takes two hours, it's horrible, to eat your lunch. But you're conscious of the taste of your food. If you're just eating out of habit, then you don't taste the food, and you're not conscious of the reality of what's happening to you. You enter the dream world again. 

WALLY: Now, do you think maybe we live in this dream world because we do so many things every day that affect us in ways that somehow we're just not aware of? I mean, you know, I was thinking, um, last Christmas, Debbie and I were given an electric blanket. I can tell you that it is just such a marvelous advance over our old way of life, and it is just great. But, uh, it is quite different from not having an electric blanket and I sometimes sort of wonder, well, what is it doing to me? I mean, I sort of feel, uh, I'm not sleeping quite in the same way. 

ANDRE: No, you wouldn't be. 

WALLY: I mean, uh, and my dreams are sort of different and ... and I feel a little bit different when I get up in the morning. 

ANDRE: I wouldn't put an electric blanket on for anything. First, I'd be worried I might get electrocuted. No, I don't trust technology. But I mean, the main thing, Wally, is that, I think that that kind of comfort just separates you from reality in a very direct way. 

WALLY: You mean ... 

ANDRE: I mean, if you don't have that electric blanket, and your apartment is cold, and you need to put on another blanket, or go into the closet and pile up coats on top of the blankets you have, well, then you know it's cold. And that sets up a link of things. You have compassion for the per ... well, is the person next to you cold? Are there other people in the world who are cold? What a cold night. I like the cold, my God, I never realized. I don't want a blanket, it's fun being cold, I can snuggle up against you even more because it's cold. All sorts of things occur to you. Turn on that electric blanket, and it's like taking a tranquilizer or it's like being lobotomized by watching television. I think you enter the dream world again. 

ANDRE: I mean, what does it do to us, Wally, living in an environment where something as massive as the seasons, or winter, or cold don't in any way affect us? I mean, we're animals, after all. I mean, what does that mean? I think that means that instead of living under the sun and the moon and the sky and the stars, we're living in a fantasy world of our own making. 

WALLY: Yeah, but I mean ... I would never give up my electric blanket, Andre, I mean, because, uh, New York is cold in the winter, I mean, our apartment is cold. It's a difficult environment, I mean, our lives are tough enough as it is, I'm not looking for ways to get rid of the few things that provide relief and comfort, I mean, on the contrary, I'm looking for more comfort because, uh, the world is very abrasive, I mean, uh ... I'm trying to protect myself because, really, there are these abrasive beatings to be avoided everywhere you look. 

ANDRE: Yeah, but, Wally, don't ... don't you see that comfort can be dangerous? I mean, you like to be comfortable, and I like to be comfortable, too, but comfort can lull you into a dangerous tranquility. I mean, my mother knew a woman, Lady Hatfield, who was one of the richest women in the world, and she died of starvation because all she would eat was chicken. I mean, she just liked chicken, Wally, and that was all she would eat, and actually, her body was starving, but she didn't know it cause she was quite happy eating her chicken, and so, she finally died. 

ANDRE: See, I honestly believe that we're all like Lady Hatfield now, we're having a lovely, comfortable time with our electric blankets and our chicken, and meanwhile we're starving because we're so cut off from contact with reality that we're not getting any real sustenance ... cause we don't see the world. We don't see ourselves. We don't see how our actions affect other people.

Herein lies one of the key features of the Torah regimen. Andre and Wally recognize the dangers of our comforts, our habits, and our tendency to isolate ourselves from reality - and yet, Wally admits: "I would never give up my electric blanket." But that is exactly what the Torah forces us to do - not permanently (like ascetic monks), not arbitrarily (like ROC's personal routine-changes), but skillfully, in a manner calculated to lead us towards specific fundamental insights about ourselves and reality.

But what I like about the comparison between My Dinner with Andre and the mitzvah of sukkah is how it highlights the fact that even if a person didn't know anything about the purpose of this mitzvah or the themes of the holiday, the very act of observing this mitzvah would nevertheless lead to insights which trigger personal growth. 

A Personal Sukkah-inspired Insight

I'd like to share one of the insights I had a few years ago. Before I do that, I'll present the background ideas which made this insight possible.

In the Moreh ha'Nevuchim 3:43 the Rambam explains that Pesach and Sukkos share a common moral theme:

As for the moral lesson, it is that man should always remember the days of bad amid the days of good, so that his gratitude to God should become great and so that he should achieve humility and submissiveness. Accordingly, matzah and maror must be eaten on Pesach to remind us of what happened to us. Similarly, we leave [our] houses and dwell in huts, as is done by those who toil in deserts and wastelands, in order to remember that this was our situation in times before: "that I made the Children of Israel dwell in huts, etc." and that we were moved from this [situation] to dwell in richly ornamented houses in the best and most fertile places on earth, due to Hashem's kindnesses and His promise to our fathers, inasmuch as they were perfected people in their philosophical outlook and in their moral character; I am referring to Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. For this, too, is one of the pivots of the Torah, I mean the belief that every benefit that will be or has been granted is due to the zechus Avos (merit of the Forefathers), since "they kept the way of Hashem to do righteousness and justice" (Bereishis 18:19).

Sukkos is first referred to in the Written Torah as "the Festival of the Gathering at the close of the year, when you gather in your work from the field" (Shemos 23:16). In an agricultural society, this is the time of year when we would be most prone to feelings of haughtiness and entitlement, as if we were the sole causes of our own success. In this state of abundance, indulgence, and self-congratulation, we would be prone to forgetting our humble origins as impoverished slaves in a tyrannical and abusive regime. We would forget that we owe all of our thanks to Hashem - and His promise to the Avos - for taking us out of that wretched situation and ultimately enabling us to reach the state of prosperity that we now enjoy.

Not only are we enjoined to remember our impoverished past, but we are commanded to take responsibility for the impoverished members of our own community - during Pesach, Sukkos, and every Yom Tov meal, as part of the mitzvah of simchah (rejoicing). The Rambam writes in Hilchos Shevivas Yom Tov:

And when he eats and drinks [at his holiday meal] he is obligated to feed the convert, the orphan, and the widow along with the other downtrodden poor. But someone who closes the gates of his courtyard and eats and drinks – he, his children, and his wife – and doesn’t provide food and drink for the impoverished and embittered: this is not the simchah of mitzvah, but the simchah of his belly. These are the people about whom it is said: “their sacrifices will be to like the bread of mourners, of which all who partake are defiled, because their bread is for themselves” (Hoshea 9:4). Simchah like this will be a disgrace for them, as it is said: “and I will scatter filth upon your faces, the filth of your festive offerings” (Malachi 2:3).

In other words, if a person attempts to rejoice on the holiday without caring for the poor, his mitzvah of simchah is transformed into a self-indulgent travesty. 

Okay. Now we are in a position to appreciate the insight I had on Sukkos several years ago.

It was the 4th or 5th night of Sukkos at around 10pm. The forecast was uncertain: there was a chance it would rain between 11pm and 2am, but the probability wasn't high enough to wait it out. I was sleep-deprived, moody, and resentful of the mitzvah. I waited until I was too tired to resist, and then I started getting ready for bed. As I dragged my mattresses and blankets out into the cold night, I hoped that it would rain so I could finally get a good night's sleep indoors. Lo and behold, at around 12pm, I awoke to the pitter-patter of raindrops. I rejoiced! Finally, I could go in.

And then it hit me: I can go indoors ... but there are countless human beings out there who can't. I thought about the millions of people who are homeless, who sleep out in the cold every night, and cannot go indoors because they have no place to go. 

The idea from the Rambam about "remembering the days of bad amid the days of good" and the halacha about caring for the poor as part of our rejoicing on Yom Tov suddenly clicked. My childish gratitude for being allowed to go inside shifted into a true gratitude for all of the good in my life: that I have a home, a family, a bed, clothing, electricity, water, financial security - and more importantly, that I have the system of Torah, with all of the moral and intellectual perfection it has helped me to attain, which made this moment of insight possible. 

Was this a “new idea”? Of course not. I knew that homeless people exist, and that they have nowhere to go. But it was only via the observance of this mitzvah that I encountered this insight in such a visceral way, during a time of the year (i.e. an opulent holiday filled with food and drink) that I wouldn’t have otherwise given any thought to anyone but myself? Not only that, but because this moment of insight was so powerful, it altered the way I view and interact with poor and homeless people in general, for the better. 

Concluding Thoughts

As Andre told Wally, the electric blankets and the chicken act like tranquilizers, creating a cocoon of comfort which muffles the harsh realities of the outside world. But thanks to the mitzvah system, we are compelled - often against our will - to temporarily and strategically deprive us of these comforts. Whether it's giving up the "electric blankets" of our houses on Sukkos or giving up the "chicken" of our chametz on Pesach or kashrus or niddah or Shabbos or tefilah or shaatnez or any of the other 613 mitzvos - there is no shortage of "skillful frustrations" to spur our personal development. 

And it is this thought which makes my periodical animosity towards the mitzvah of sukkah bearable - and indeed, a discomfort for which I am deeply grateful. 

Have a chag sameach, filled with skillful frustrations!