Simone Biles is My Hero

This week's Torah content has been sponsored by Sol and Chummie Azose, in honor of the upcoming 81st birthday of the Rosh ha'Yeshiva, Rabbi Yisroel Chait, and the 91st birthday of Sol's father, Hazzan Isaac Azose. If you're interested in sponsoring a day's or a week's worth of Torah content, you can contact me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com.

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

Simone Biles is My Hero

On July 28, 2021, Simone Biles – one of the most accomplished gymnasts of our era – withdrew from the Tokyo Olympics. She alluded to her struggles on Instagram by posting: "I truly do feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders at times. I know I brush it off and make it seem like pressure doesn't affect me but damn sometimes it's hard hahaha!" That “hahaha” might make it sound like it was no big deal, but later interviews revealed that there were darker forces afoot. It was soon revealed that she withdrew for mental health reasons. The straw that broke the camels back was her experiencing of "the twisties," a psychological phenomenon which causes a gymnast to lose in-air awareness while performing twisting elements which could prove fatal. Simone’s attitude was humble, yet realistic. “At the end of the day, I have to do what was right for me … It just sucks that it happened at the Olympic Games.” You can’t control when these things happen, but you can always make the decision to pause, no matter what people say.

To my mind, Simone exemplifies true gevurah (courage). Chazal teach: “Who is a gibor (courageous person)? One who conquers their inclination” (Avos 4:1). I’ve read a number of articles about the pressure Biles felt to perform while the spotlight of the world was on her. I don’t know what was actually going on in her mind, but as a fellow Type A personality, I suspect that the popular assessment is off base. Her courage was not expressed in standing up to the world, but in standing up to herself. Those who don’t share this type of personality imagine that the pressure comes from the outside world. I can assure you, it comes from within. And as Anne Lamott says, the task of dealing with this pressure “is an inside job.”

I saw a chilling quotation from another interview with her. "This Olympic Games, I wanted it to be for myself when I came in — and I felt like I was still doing it for other people … So that just, like, hurts my heart because doing what I love has been kind of taken away from me to please other people." When I heard this, it terrified me. I love what I do, day in and day out. I live for teaching. I have always been excited to go work every day. And yet, I have recently come to realize how much pressure I put on myself. This pressure manifests as a need to please others, even if it’s driven by internal forces and inner critics. It terrifies me to think what would happen if I somehow slipped into a mode where I felt the need to teach in order to please other people. Such a life would be no life.

Simone’s withdrawal from the Olympics serves as a wake-up call for all personalities that are driven to go, go, go. She reminds us of a truth I made into a mantra for myself: “You don’t have to do anything, but you can’t do everything.” She reminds us that it doesn’t matter what the stakes are, or how many people are expecting you to perform, or how much you, yourself, are invested in “being the best.” What matters most is you.

I’ve been reading Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less, by Greg McKeown. He writes:

Your obligation is to the highest point of contribution you can make. I think what happens a lot is that people get caught up in the idea that, “Can I do this thing?” They pretend there’s nothing else going on in their life. The request comes in and they go, “Can I do this? Well, yes, I can do this. I know how to do this. I can make this happen.” That’s not life. That’s non-essentialist junk. That’s just rubbish. The question is, “If I do this thing, what doesn’t get done? What else gets pushed out?”

In Simone’s case, what might have gotten pushed out was her life. In other cases, it is the ability to live our lives, which is nearly as important. The moral of the story is: don’t push yourself out of your own life.

___________________________________________________________________________________

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

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone. 

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here. 

Sameach b'Chelko as Unconditional Happiness

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

Artwork: Weather the Storm, by Justin and Alexis Hernandez

Sameach b'Chelko as Unconditional Happiness

Ben Zoma (Avos 4:1) taught: “Who is wealthy? One who is sameach b’chelko (happy with his portion).” This is the type of idea that can easily become cliché if it is not reexamined, refreshed, and revised from time to time. The latest update came to me this morning. I just started reading Awareness: The Perils and Opportunities of Reality (1990), by Anthony de Mello. The author makes the seemingly outlandish claim: “You don’t want to be happy.” He clarifies his meaning a few pages later:

I was saying that we don’t want to be happy. We want other things. Or let’s put it more accurately: We don’t want to be unconditionally happy. I’m ready to be happy provided I have this and that and the other thing. But this is really to say to our friend or to our God or to anyone, “You are my happiness. If I don’t get you, I refuse to be happy.” It’s so important to understand that. We cannot imagine being happy without those conditions. That’s pretty accurate. We cannot conceive of being happy without them. We’ve been taught to place our happiness in them.

In other words, to be sameach b’chelko means to be unconditionally happy. Stated differently, so long as your idea of happiness includes particulars which you regard as indispensable, then you cannot be sameach b’chelko. Your chelek (portion) is determined by Hashem, not by your idea of what your chelek should be. It is He Who sets the conditions, not you. The only condition is His will.

After writing the first half of this article, I decided this would be a good time to skim the meforshim (commentators) on Ben Zoma’s statement in light of this new insight. To my surprise, I didn’t find a single one who explained sameach b’chelko along these lines. The Meiri’s commentary is representative of the approach that most (if not all) of them took. He writes: “the definition of wealth is to be content and not lust after excesses; anyone who has what he needs and doesn’t seek excess is truly wealthy.” Rabbeinu Yonah takes the same approach but expands on what is implied by “needs:”

Who is wealthy? One who is sameach b’chelko – [namely,] a person who says, “My chelek is sufficient for me, since I am able to support myself and my household and be involved in Torah. Why should I concern myself with someone else’s money, so long as I have what I need in order to uphold the word of Hashem?” For one who is not sameach b’chelko and not satisfied with what Hashem gave him is poor … Thus, it is an exceedingly good trait to be sameach b’chelko, and he is called “wealthy” because Hashem gave him what he needs to sustain himself and be involved in Torah and in mitzvos. For what profit is there for man in all his toil, but to fulfill Torah and mitzvos?

These meforshim do not explain sameach b’chelko as “being content with one’s portion, no matter what that portion is” but rather “being content with one’s portion, on the condition that one’s needs are sufficiently met to be involved in Torah and mitzvos.” Their sameach b’chelko is conditional.

This leaves me in a quandary. On the one hand, de Mello’s explanation rings true to me as a philosophical ideal. On the other hand, the meforshim on Ben Zoma’s statement are consistent with my understanding of Torah values. The simple answer is that they’re talking about different things: de Mello is talking about happiness and Ben Zoma is talking about wealth. And yet, the definition of wealthy as “sameach b’chelko” is predicated on a definition of simchah (happiness), which leaves me wondering what the relationship is between that simchah and de Mello’s. Tzarich iyun (this question needs further analysis).

___________________________________________________________________________________

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

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone. 

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here. 

Parashas Korach: Three Types of Machlokes

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

Artwork: Abzan Ascendancy, by Mark Winters

Parashas Korach: Three Types of Machlokes

If I told you that there are three types of machlokes (disagreement) - one good, one less-than-ideal, and one REALLY bad - and I asked you which category Korach's machlokes fell into, which category would you guess that would be? I imagine you'd intuitively select "really bad," judging by what happened to Korach and his followers.

According to R' Yehoshua ibn Shbuib [1], this is not the case. Korach's machlokes certainly wasn't good, but it wasn't entirely bad either. 

The Ibn Shuib begins by citing the mishnah in Avos 5:17:

Any machlokes which is not l'shem shamayim (for the sake of heaven) will ultimately not persist, and [any machlokes] which is l'shem shamayim will ultimately persist. Which is [an example of] a machlokes l'shem shamayim? This is the machlokes of Hillel and Shammai. [And which is an example of a machlokes] which is not l'shem shamayim? This is the machlokes of Korach and all of his assembly.

The Ibn Shuib then provides a summary of why Korach's machlokes fits into the second category:

The Tanna called the machlokes of Korach "she'lo l'shem shamayim" to teach us that they didn't present themselves as though they were vying for the positions [of Moshe and Aharon] and challenging their appointments, but rather [they presented themselves] as though they desired to serve Hashem like them; [in reality] they were only trying to make themselves great, which is why it is called "she'lo l'shem shamayim."

Next, he sets forth the three types of machlokes and offers an unconventional explanation of why Korach's machlokes falls into the second category, rather than the third:

There are three types of machlokes. The first is a machlokes l'shem shamayim - those who disagree like Abayye and Rava, or Rebbi Yochanan and Reish Lakish, and others. Their goal wasn't to elevate their status, but only to derive the true halacha and to arrive at the root of the mitzvah or the law - not to be victorious. And when they saw the words of the wise, they would admit to the truth, as it frequently says: "Beis Hillel retracted and conceded to Beis Shammai," "Rebbi Yochanan withdrew [his original statement]," "Rava retracted from it," and he said, "The things I said before you were an error on my part." And they commanded their students at the end of their days to retract and concede to those who disagreed with them, as we find in [the Gemara] Niddah [2] in the case of the machlokes between Rav and Shmuel with Shila bar Avina - and many [other instances] in the Talmud. 

The second type is a machlokes of false pretenses, [3] like the machlokes of Korach, who misled those in his generation by making it seem as though he was being zealous on behalf of the firstborns and on behalf of the entire assembly because "all of them are holy, and Hashem is among them" (Bamidbar 16:3), and [claiming that] Moshe and Aharon and the others were taking the [appointments of divine] service for themselves and that everyone else should be excluded; [Korach presented his argument in this manner] until [the other members of his assembly] were tricked to follow after him. 

The third type is a machlokes of dominance between people who instigate a dispute and battle for power in trivial matters which have no tzorech mitzvah (mitzvah-function). To the contrary, [these disputes] contain iniquity and transgression, and their intention is to defeat their opponents. This is the last type of machlokes which is not mentioned by the Tanna [of our mishnah in Avos], because it isn't worthy of being mentioned. It is [the type of machlokes] found among other types of animals - domesticated animals, wild beasts, and birds.  

But [the Tanna] did mention the machlokes of Korach because it contained a tzorech mitzvah, since they wanted to serve Hashem - although it wasn't l'shem shamayim like the chachamim who argue in matters of Torah, [whereas Korach and his followers] argued in order to prevail over their fellows and to make a name [for themselves] - and this is somewhat considered to be a mitzvah she'lo lishmah (a mitzvah that is not done for its own sake).  

Thus, machlokes can be divided into three [categories], just like other phenomena which have two divisions [corresponding to] two extremes. The machlokes of Hillel and Shammai and the others is at the extreme side of the good, and the machlokes of dominance is at the extreme side of the bad if it is not for a tzorech mitzvah, and in the middle is the machlokes she'lo l'shem shamayim. The Tanna took the second machlokes (i.e. Korach's machlokes she'lo l'shem shamayim) and left out the third (i.e. the machlokes of dominance),which contains no good or constructive purpose, but only iniquity, transgression, and great harm. 

I was astonished and intrigued by the Ibn Shuib's classification of Korach's machlokes in the "less-than-ideal" middle category, rather than the "absolutely evil" extreme category. I guess I was so accustomed to thinking of Korach as "the villain" that I automatically assumed the worst. I guess this just goes to show how important it is to evaluate a person's actions on their own terms, without letting one's judgment be clouded by preconceived notions.

The second thing I found interesting about this is that the Ibn Shuib regards Korach's campaign as "somewhat considered to be a mitzvah she'lo lishmah." I've periodically looked into the topic of "the limits of she'lo lishmah." How far afield can mitzvah-motives go and still be considered to be an "acceptable" level of she'lo lishmah? At what point do ulterior motives outweigh the goodness of the mitzvah itself? According to the Ibn Shuib it would seem that a machlokes can have tremendously destructive ulterior motives, but the very fact that these motives are in service of some tzorech mitzvah means that such a machlokes would fall within the "middle" category of she'lo l'shem shamayim, and not the "extremely bad" category of "an animalistic battle for dominance." 

The third thing I gained from this is a shift in my view of "politics" within Jewish communities. As we are all aware, machlokes is far too pervasive within the Jewish world, from shul politics, to conflicts between different factions of Jewry, to infighting that stems from the stances that Jews take in American or Israeli politics. Before encountering this Ibn Shuib I automatically divided all of these instances of machlokes into only two categories: noble l'shem shamayim disagreements and animalistic ego-battles. To my mind, the baal ha'bayis (layman) quarreling argumentatively with the shul president was no different than two drunk guys at a bar getting into a fight to prove who is more macho. As long as the motives were not l'shem shamayim, what difference would it make what they're arguing about? 

But according to the Ibn Shuib, there is a key question that must be asked about any machlokes which is not l'shem shamayim: Does this involve some tzorech mitzvah? If it does, then that alone is a positive quality which is significant enough to define the nature of the machlokes. Such an argument may be fueled by egos, and may even lead to great harm and destruction, but to characterize it as purely animalistic would be incorrect. That designation should be reserved for personal quarrels which have no tzorech mitzvah, like the incident of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza.

And lest you say about one of the parties in a machlokes she'lo l'shem shamayim, "But how can you say that there is any redeeming quality in this machlokes? This person/group/institution is trying to undermine the very foundations of Judaism!" the Ibn Shuib would say: "Yep - just like Korach. And just as Korach's machlokes wasn't purely evil, since it involved a tzorech mitzvah, you shouldn't be so quick to condemn the machlokes of which you speak as purely evil as long as it involves a tzorech mitzvah as well." 

This just goes to show the importance of a mitzvah she'lo lishmah within the Torah system. Even though Korach was undoubtedly mistaken and wrong in his actions, beliefs, and motives, and even though Moshe's authority was threatened to the point where Hashem had to intervene with a miracle to put a stop to Korach's coup, nevertheless, his machlokes still contained a modicum of good. 

The implications of the Ibn Shuib's position deserve further thought, but that's all I have to say for now. So next time you see Jews fighting about something, remember that even if they are comparable to Korach, that doesn't mean that there are no redeeming qualities to their machlokes. 

[1] Rabbeinu Yehoshua ibn Shuib, Drashos Ibn Shuib: Parashas Korach; in case you haven't heard of the Ibn Shuib, he was a student of the Rashba and a colleague of the Ritva

[2] Talmud Bavli: Niddah 36b

[3] The Ibn Shuib uses the phrase "מחלוקת ההטעאה" which literally translates it as a "a disagreement of misleading [others]." I translated it as "a machlokes of false pretenses," since I thought this sounded less awkward and conveyed the meaning that the Ibn Shuib goes on to discuss.

Rambam: On Not Citing Sources

Originally published in January 2009, in a cruder form. Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Arcane Lighthouse, by Igor Kieryluk

Rambam: On Not Citing Sources

ha'Omer Davar b'Shem Omro

The braisa in Avos 6:6 [1] enumerates 48 qualities that are necessary for "acquiring Torah." The 48th quality on the list is "ha'omer davar b'shem omro" - one who says something in the name of the person who [originally] said it. The braisa goes on to explain that whoever does this "brings redemption to the world, as it is stated, 'And Esther said to the king in the name of Mordechai' (Esther 2:22)." This virtue of ha'omer davar b'shem omro is lauded by Chazal (the Sages) in other places as well (Megilah 15a, Chulin 104b, Nidah 19b - just to name a few). 

According to Chazal, not only is it good and proper to say something in the name of the original speaker, but it is bad and improper to not say something in the name of the original speaker. Chazal teach: "Concerning one who doesn't say something in the name of the original speaker, the verse states, 'Do not steal from the poor, because he is poor' (Mishlei 22:22)" (Tanchuma Bamidbar 27). Similarly: "One who says something in the name of someone who didn't say it brings a curse upon the world" (Yalkut Shimoni, Mishlei 247).

Rambam's Anonymity Policy

Based on these sources one might think that it is never acceptable to cite another person's idea without proper attribution. Yet, in his preface to Shemoneh Perakim the Rambam [2] writes: 

It is important to know, though, that I did not originate the ideas expressed or the explanations offered in these chapters or in my commentary [to Pirkei Avos]; rather, they have been collected from the words of the Sages in midrashim, the Talmud, and in their other works, as well as from the words of earlier and later philosophers [Jewish and non-Jewish], and from the works of many others. Accept the truth from whoever utters it.

Once in a while, though, I will quote verbatim from a well-known work [without indicating that it is a quotation]. There is nothing wrong with this, since I am not taking credit for what someone else already said, and because I hereby acknowledge [at the outset that I will be doing this].

I will also not say, "So-and-so said this" or "So-and-so said that" because that would be unnecessarily wordy. Furthermore, it might make a reader who does not accept the author think that what he said is harmful or has a sinister intent that he is unaware of. Therefore I decided to leave out the author's name, for my aim is to help the reader and explain what is hidden away in this tractate.

The question is: How can we reconcile Chazal's position on ha'omer davar b'shem omro with the Rambam's practice in Shemoneh Perakim? Surely the Rambam was aware of the principle of ha'omer davar b'shem omro which is stated in the braisa of Avos - the very tractate about  which these words of the Rambam were written! How can he not cite his sources? 

Illicitly Taking Credit

The Rambam justifies his policy of not citing sources by saying: 

Once in a while, though, I will quote verbatim from a well-known work [without indicating that it is a quotation]. There is nothing wrong with this, since I am not taking credit for what someone else already said, and because I hereby acknowledge [at the outset that I will be doing this].

In other words, it would appear that the Rambam does not interpret ha'omer davar b'shem omro to mean that one must attribute statements to their original source, but rather, that one must not claim credit for the ideas of others. Thus, the Rambam has satisfied the guideline of ha'omer davar b'shem omro simply by acknowledging at the outset that he will be using the ideas of others in his treatise, and that he does not claim credit for these ideas. According to the Rambam, it would only be a violation of ha'omer davar b'shem omro if he presented someone else's ideas as his own. 

But one might raise another objection to the Rambam's practice: If the Rambam is quoting the words of an authority figure, isn't it important to mention that authority's name? Sure, it's nice that the Rambam doesn't claim authorship for ideas that are not his own, but how will the reader be able to judge the truth of the statement if he doesn't know who said it? How can the Rambam dismiss the citation of sources as being "unnecessarily wordy"? 

Authority and Truth

The answer to this question is contained in address by what is one of the most oft-quoted sayings of the Rambam: "Accept the truth from whoever says it." The Rambam elaborates on this principle in the Mishneh Torah in the laws of sanctifying the new moon. After several chapters of complex astronomical calculations, the Rambam [3] concludes:

As regards the logic for all these calculations – why we have to add a particular figure or deduct it, how all these rules originated, and how they were discovered and proved – all this is part of the science of astronomy and mathematics, about which many books have been composed by Greek sages – books that are still available to the scholars of our time. But the books which had been composed by the Sages of Israel, of the tribe of Yissachar, who lived in the time of the prophets, have not come down to us. But since all these rules have been established by sound and clear proofs, free from any flaw and irrefutable, we don’t care about the identity of their authors, whether they were Jewish prophets or Gentile sages. For regarding any matter whose rationale is evident and whose truth has been verified by sound proofs: we do not rely on the person who said it or taught it, but on the proof that has been demonstrated and the reasoning that we know.

For example, if the Rambam wrote "2+2=4," he would not need to cite a mathematician to support his point. Why not? Because the truth of 2+2=4 does not rest on authority. Its truth is evident to the mind. This is what the Rambam means by the last sentence in the aforementioned passage: when it comes to a statement, the truth of which has been demonstrated by proof and reasoning, authority has no place. We do not accept such a statement because it was stated by an authority. We accept it because our minds see the truth.

What is true for arithmetic is true for the concepts taught in Avos (i.e. ideas of philosophy and ethics) as well. If a philosophical or ethical idea has been validly demonstrated with clear evidence, proofs, and reasoning, then it doesn't matter who said it - prophet or gentile, old or young, expert or layman. The truth speaks for itself, and is not dependent on the affirmation of any authority.

Indeed, the Talmud is filled with instances in which the question is raised, "What is the source for this idea?" and the Gemara answers "sevara hee" (lit. "it is rational idea") which means "the truth of this statement is evident, and does not require a source." The Sefer ha'Chinuch [4] takes this further in the introduction to his book. He raises the question, "Why doesn't the Torah discuss the fate of the soul after death and the World to Come?" and answers:

Such matters do not require the support of proofs and testimony [from the Torah], for they are their own proof and testimony; they are first principles (i.e. ideas whose rationale is evident to the mind). Therefore, the Torah never goes on at length about matters that can be known through human reasoning [alone], just as the Sages have said in so many places, "sevara hee" - meaning, no Scriptural proof is necessary in that which reason dictates.

The Rambam intended that the content of Shemoneh Perakim be assessed on its own merit. He expected the reader to think about the ideas and proofs contained therein, to determine with his or her own mind whether or not they make sense, and to accept or reject them on that basis, and on that basis alone.

When Attribution is Necessary

Needless to say, there are valid reasons for citing one's sources. If the truth of a statement rests on facts which can only be obtained through specialized observation or can only be understood through a specialized branch of knowledge, then a layperson shouldn't accept the statement as true without the endorsement of a qualified expert. For instance, it is unwise for a layperson to rely on statements about medicine unless those statements have been vetted by medical experts. Likewise, the merit of a halachic statement often hinges on its source(s).

Sometimes it is necessary to know who authored a particular statement in order to ensure that it is consistent with other statements made by the same author. For this reason the Gemara endeavors to record the source of every halachic statement therein. When an apparent contradiction arises between two statements by the same author, it becomes necessary to explain the contradiction by analyzing each statement in an attempt to arrive at a consistent position.

Another reason to cite sources is to facilitate further research on the part of the reader. For example, someone who reads this post might want to read the text of the Rambam in context to see whether I have accurately conveyed his view. Had I not mentioned the source of the text, it would be difficult for the reader to investigate the material on his or her own. [5]

Another reason to attribute a statement to the original speaker is for rhetorical purposes. There are people who won't accept a rational, validly demonstrated idea unless they see it written in the name of an authority figure whom they respect. To convince such people of the truth of these ideas, it may be necessary to invoke authority.

However, as the Rambam points out, attribution might backfire if the authority doesn't find favor in the eyes of the reader. For example, many of the concepts that the Rambam mentions in Shemoneh Perakim have their origin in the writings of Aristotle. Had the Rambam attributed these ideas to Aristotle explicitly, they might be rejected by someone who feels that it is wrong to study Greek/secular philosophy.

As a great chacham once said, "Unthinking respect for authority is the greatest enemy of the truth," and unthinking rejection of truth because of the authority who stated it is just as bad.

Conclusion

In truth, there are two possible ways to reconcile the Rambam's practice in Shemoneh Perakim with the braisa in Avos. One possibility is as we have explained: that the Rambam maintains that the ikkar (essence) of ha'omer davar b'shem omro is to not take credit for someone else's ideas, and since the Rambam gave due credit at the beginning of Shemoneh Perakim, then there is no virtue in citing specific names - especially when dealing with a subject matter in which the truth can speak for itself.

The other possibility is that the Rambam held that there are other beneficial reasons for ha'omer davar b'shem omro, but the most important consideration is the acceptance of the truth by those who hear it. Since the Rambam was worried that people would reject these ideas based on their source, then it would be better to forego citation and state the ideas anonymously rather than uphold ha'omer davar b'shem omro and risk turning people away from the truth.

Either way, we see that the Rambam did not view the citation of sources as an absolute requirement. The irony is that we needed to cite our sources in this post to support our view.

[1] Technically speaking, this braisa is from Avos d'Rebbi Nosson. However, it has become a widespread practice to refer to this section as "the sixth chapter of Pirkei Avos" - even though Avos only has five chapters.

[2] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah: Introduction to Avos (a.k.a. Shemoneh Perakim), Preface

[3] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer Zmanim, Hilchos Kidush ha'Chodesh 17:25
[4] Sefer ha'Chinuch, Introduction
[5] In a letter to his pupil Rav Yosef, the Rambam expressed his regret for not writing a bibliography for the Mishneh Torah: 

Because of this, I regret that I did not compose along with my composition a separate volume whose content I will now explain to you and which I still hope to compose, if God will decree that I will be able to do it, even though it is a very demanding task and effort - that is, a source book to my composition which will cite the source for every halacha whose origin is not evident ... This source book would be a separate companion volume to my composition, since I obviously cannot incorporate it into the body of the work, because the nature of its subject conflicts with the structure and style of a monolithic code, as I explained to you previously. 

Krishnamurti: On Listening

Originally posted in January 2012, and expanded here. Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Daze, by Richard Wright

Krishnamurti: On Listening

The ability to listen well is a hallmark of a chochmah (wisdom). The Sages list "listening of the ear" as one of the 48 qualities that are necessary to acquire Torah (Avos 6:6). It is not an easy thing to listen - to listen fully, attentively, objectively, and accurately - yet, the question of how to become a good listener is rarely discussed. 

I was recently reviewing some of the writings of Jiddu Krishnamurti on this topic. I would not have encountered these writings in the natural course of my learning. I only looked into Krishnamurti on the recommendation of the best listener I know. And I was not disappointed. I can see how these ideas helped this person become such a genuine, deep, and sensitive listener, and when I watch videos of conversations between Krishnamurti and his students, I can see that he practices what he preaches.

I would like to share with you several passages that stood out to me, with minimal commentary on my part. I recommend trying to read - to "listen" to - these excerpts with a completely open mind, and allowing each one to influence your receptiveness to the next (or, depending on how you look at it, to NOT allow each one to influence your receptiveness to the next).

The first excerpt (Collected Writings Vol. VII, p. 213) is, I believe, a good introduction to Krishnamurti's view on this topic: 

How do you listen? Do you listen with your projections, through your projection, through your ambitions, desires, fears, anxieties, through hearing only what you want to hear, only what will be satisfactory, what will gratify, what will give comfort, what will for the moment alleviate your suffering? If you listen through the screen of your desires, then you obviously listen to your own voice; you are listening to your own desires. And is there any other form of listening? Is it not important to find out how to listen not only to what is being said but to everything? ... Listening has importance only when one is not projecting one's own desires through which one listens. Can one put aside all these screens through which we listen, and really listen? 

Elsewhere (Vol. XV 61, Choiceless Awareness) Krishnamurti emphasizes the necessity of listening in an all-encompassing manner:

The beauty of listening lies in being highly sensitive to everything about you: to the ugliness, to the dirt, to the squalor, to the poverty about you, and also to the dirt, to the disorder, to the poverty of one's own being. When you are aware of both, then there is no effort, that is, when there is an awareness which is without choice, then there is no effort.

Elsewhere (Vol. X. Action) he discusses the type of "partial listening" that most of us engage in:

[Listening] itself is quite an art. Most of us never really listen, therefore we hear only partially. We hear the words that are spoken, but our minds are elsewhere; or our minds respond only to the meaning of the words, and this immediate response prevents us from hearing that which lies beyond the words. So listening is an art; but if you can listen totally to what is being said, then in that very listening you will find there is a liberation, because such listening is unpremeditated, uncalculated; it is an action of truth because your whole mind is there, your total attention is being given. If you listen without interpreting, without remembering a quotation from some old book, or comparing all this with what you have read, then you will find that your own mind has undergone a really radical change.

Elsewhere (Bombay, March 1st 1964) he elaborates on the obstacles to listening, and contrasts this with the sense of liberation that comes when we really manage to listen - and the independence of mind that is necessary to do so:

We do not listen. There are too many noises about us; inside us, there is too much talk, too much questioning, too much demanding, too many urges, compulsions. We have so many things and we never listen to any one of them completely, totally, to the very end. And if you would kindly so listen, you will see that, in spite of yourself, the mutation, that emptiness, that transformation, the perception of what is true, comes into being. You don't have to do a thing, because what you do will interfere, because you are greedy, you are envious, you are full of hate, ambition, and all the mischief that thought can make. So if you can listen happily, effortlessly, then perhaps in the quiet, deep, silence you will know what is truth. And it is only that truth that liberates, and nothing else. That is why you must stand completely alone. You cannot listen through another; you cannot see with the eyes of another; you cannot think with the thoughts of others. But yet you listen through others, see through the activities, through the saints, through the dictum of others. So if you can put away all these secondary things, the activities of others, and be simple, quiet, and listen, then you will find out.

Krishnamurti maintains that this type of listening is necessary in order to apprehend the truth (Talks in India, 1953)

It is important to know how to listen, not only to me particularly, but to anybody. It is important to know how to listen because if we know how to listen truly, something extraordinary happens to us, because then without any bias, without any prejudice, we can go to the root of the matter immediately. But if we throw up a lot of arguments, concoct devices or contradictions to see who is correct and who is not correct and carry on with our own particular idiosyncrasies and ideas, then we will not discover the truth of the matter at all. We shall only be concerned with our own particular conclusions, with our own point of view. So if I may suggest, it is important that we should listen truly because if we can know how to listen, the truth will reveal itself. We do not have to explore the problem, but if we know how to listen to the song of a bird, to the voice of another, if we can listen as to music without any interpretation or translation, it definitely clarifies the mind; so similarly, if it is possible, let us listen with that intention - not to confute or to conform, but to directly find out the truth for ourselves.

Likewise, here is an excerpt (The Book of Life) on the relationship between learning and listening:

It seems to me that learning is astonishingly difficult, as is listening also. We never actually listen to anything because our mind is not free; our ears are stuffed up with those things that we already know, so listening becomes extraordinarily difficult. I think, or rather, it is a fact that if one can listen to something with all of one's being, with vigor, with vitality, then the very act of listening is a liberative factor, but unfortunately you never do listen, as you have never learned about it. After all, you only learn when you give your whole being to something. When you give your whole being to mathematics, you learn; but when you are in a state of contradiction, when you do not want to learn but are forced to learn, then it becomes merely a process of accumulation. To learn is like reading a novel with innumerable characters; it requires your full attention, not contradictory attention. If you want to learn about a leaf - a leaf of the spring or a leaf of the summer - you must really look at it, see the symmetry of it, the texture of it, the quality of the living leaf. There is beauty, there is vigor, there is vitality in a single leaf. So to learn about the leaf, the flower, the cloud, the sunset, or a human being, you must look with all intensity.

And here is another excerpt (ibid.) on the relationship between listening and freedom:

When you make an effort to listen, are you listening? Is not that very effort a distraction that prevents listening? Do you make an effort when you listen to something that gives you delight? ... You are not aware of the truth, nor do you see the false as the false, as long as your mind is occupied in any way with effort, with comparison, with justification or condemnation ... 

Listening itself is a complete act; the very act of listening brings its own freedom. But are you really concerned with listening, or with altering the turmoil within? If you would listen ... in the sense of being aware of your conflicts and contradictions without forcing them into any particular pattern of thought, perhaps they might altogether cease. You see, we are constantly trying to be this or that, to achieve a particular state, to capture one kind of experience and avoid another, so the mind is everlastingly occupied with something; it is never still to listen to the noise of its own struggles and pains. Be simple ... and don't try to become something or to capture some experience.

Lastly, here is an excerpt (Beyond Violence pp.37-38) on how listening to someone else can enable a person to listen to himself or herself:

You know, there are two ways of listening: to listen casually, to hear a series of ideas, agreeing or disagreeing with them; or there is another way of listening, which is not only to listen to the words and the meaning of those words, but also to listen to what is actually taking place in yourself. If you listen in this way, then what the speaker says is related to what you are listening to in yourself; then you are not merely listening to the speaker - which is irrelevant - but to the whole content of your being. And if you are listening in that way with intensity, at the same time and at the same level, then we are both of us partaking, sharing together, in what is actually taking place. Then you have the passion which is going to transform that which is. 

Does Krishnamurti's approach to listening correspond to what Chazal were referring to when they listed "the listening of the ear" as one of the prerequisites for Torah? Frankly, it doesn't matter to me. In fact, I admit that there is some tension between Krishnamurti's paradigm of listening and the type of Torah-learning we are accustomed to do - especially the part about suspending questions, analysis, and judgment. 

Nevertheless, I see - and have experienced - the value in being able to listen in the manner described by Krishnamurti. I know that if I can learn to listen like this, I will be a better teacher, a better learner, and a better friend. And if I can figure out how to integrate the principles of listening elucidated by Krishnamurti into the methodology of Torah learning in which I have been trained, then that would be truly wonderful.

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.

Picking and Choosing in Halacha

Artwork: Fact or Fiction, by Matt Cavotta

Picking and Choosing in Halacha

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mishnah in Avos 1:16 states: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Artwork: Cloistered Youth, by Igor Kieryluk

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

Introduction

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

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

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

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

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

Framework #1: The Halachic System

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Framework #3: Divine Judgment

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

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

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

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

Summary and Conclusion

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

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

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