Shelach: Tzitzis, Indigo, and the Plague of the Firstborns

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Can you tell which of these are dyed with indigo? Didn't think so.

Shelach: Tzitzis, Indigo, and the Plague of the Firstborn

Parashas Shelach concludes with the topic of tzitzis, and the discussion of tzitzis concludes with a reminder of Yetzias Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt): 

Hashem said to Moshe, saying: Speak to the Children of Israel and say to them that they shall make themselves tzitzis on the corners of their garments, throughout their generations. And they shall place upon the tzitzis of each corner a thread of techeiles. It shall constitute tzitzis for you, that you may see it and remember all the mitzvos of Hashem and do them, and not explore after your heart and after your eyes after which you stray. So that you may remember and do all My mitzvos and be holy to your God. I am Hashem, your God, Who has taken you out from the land of Egypt to be a God unto you; I am Hashem, your God. (Bamidbar 15:37-41) 

This reference to Yetzias Mitzrayim in and of itself isn’t particularly noteworthy. The Torah mentions Yetzias Mitzrayim dozens of times in connection with other mitzvos. The question here is: What does Yetzias Mitzrayim have to do with tzitzis in particular? With other mitzvos – such as Pesach, matzah, maror, Shabbos, the laws about how we treat our slaves, or how we treat Egyptian converts, or how we relate to the “stranger” in our midst – the thematic relationship is either explicitly spelled out in the pesukim or it is obvious. But in the case of tzitzis, the connection is not at all apparent. 

Rashi [1], citing a Gemara in Bava Metzia 61b, addresses this question explicitly: 

Why was Yetzias Mitzrayim stated [here]? [In order to say:] “I am the One Who discerned in Egypt [the difference] between the drop [of sperm] that became a firstborn and the drop that did not become a firstborn. [So too,] I am the One Who will discern and exact punishment from one who attaches [a thread dyed with] indigo [2] on his garment and says it is techeiles.” 

The mitzvah of tzitzis has two basic components: lavan (the white fringes) and techeiles (the thread of blue). The lavan can be made from wool, linen, or from whatever kind of material the garment is made of. The techeiles is made from wool dyed a specific shade of blue using a substance secreted by a marine creature known as the chilazon. Rashi [3] explains why a person would be inclined to use indigo as a substitute for properly made techeiles: 

Indigo is a color that resembles techeiles, but the Torah specified “a thread of techeiles”; techeiles is very expensive, since it is dyed with the secretion of the chilazon which only comes up from the sea once every 70 years. 

Rashi only cited the part of the Gemara that focused on techeiles. The original statement asks the same question with regards to two other mitzvos which are also inexplicably juxtaposed with Yetzias Mitzrayim, and offers a similar answer to address all three cases: 

Why did the Merciful One need to write about Yetzias Mitzrayim in conjunction with [the prohibition against charging] interest [4], and in conjunction with [the mitzvah of] tzitzis, and in conjunction with [the prohibition against using unjust] weights [5]? 

[The answer is:] The Holy One, Blessed is He, said: “I am the One Who discerned in Egypt [the difference] between the drop [of sperm] that became a firstborn and the drop that did not become a firstborn. [So too,] I am the One Who will exact punishment from one who attributes [ownership of] his money to a non-Jew and lends it to a Jew with interest [6], and [I am the One Who will exact punishment] from one who buries his weights in salt [thereby changing the weight in a manner undetectable to the eye], and [I am the One Who will exact punishment] from one who attaches [a thread dyed with] indigo on his garment and says it is techeiles. 

On a superficial level, this Gemara’s message is clear: even though a human being cannot visually detect the difference between indigo and techeiles, or the difference between accurate weights and weights that have been tampered with, or the difference between money that belongs to a non-Jew and money that belongs to a Jew – Hashem can discern the difference. And just as He used His “Divine discernment” to mete out punishment to the firstborns in Egypt in a manner that would have been impossible for a human judge to do, so too, He will exact retribution from those who violate halacha by making recourse to these loopholes. 

The Maharsha [7] is unsatisfied with this elementary understanding. He is bothered by the fact that in the cases of unjust weights and improper charging of interest the wrongdoer is actually defrauding his fellow Jew or causing him to sin, but in the case of indigo he’s just cheating himself out of his own mitzvah. It would be fine if the point of this Gemara were to reinforce the idea that Hashem will punish a person for committing an interpersonal transgression even if the victim is unaware of the crime. However, if the point of this Gemara is to teach us that a person who cuts corners [8] in his personal mitzvah observance will be punished for his failure to fulfill that mitzvah, then what makes the indigo case different than any private violation of halacha? As the Maharsha puts it: “Why, then, didn’t the Torah mention Yetzias Mitzrayim in conjunction with every positive and negative commandment?” The case of indigo and techeiles must be teaching us something more. 

This leads the Maharsha to a startling conclusion: 

It is for this reason that it was necessary to say that a person transgresses from the time he attaches [the indigo], for he will be punished for the very thought of transgressing the mitzvah of tzitzis [in this manner]. 

The Maharsha maintains that our Gemara can’t simply be teaching us that a person will be held accountable for failing to use valid techeiles. Rather, the Gemara is teaching us that in addition to failing to fulfill the mitzvah of tzitzis, there is a separate transgression in the very act of attaching indigo to one’s tzitzis with the intention of substituting it for authentic techeiles. 

How the Maharsha’s explanation makes sense in a halachic framework is beyond the scope of this article. Instead we will attempt to understand the mentality that this halacha is intended to address. What, exactly, is the underlying flaw in this person’s thinking? What is the nature of this separate transgression in the very thought of circumventing the techeiles requirement by using indigo? 

It is natural to attempt to answer this question by examining this person’s motive. We can understand the motive for utilizing this loophole in the laws of charging interest, as well as the motive for using unjust weights and measures: namely, to make an easy profit. But in the case of the person who substitutes indigo for techeiles, there are a number of possible motives: 

• He, too, wants to save money on techeiles by purchasing the less costly knock-off brand; it’s that same classical techeiles appearance at less than half the cost! 
• His view of mitzvos is utilitarian; his reasoning is: “My tzitzis need a thread of blue for a specific philosophical reason, so as long as it looks the same, what difference does it make what the dye is made of?” [9] 
• His identity is tied to the self-image of religiosity rather than conformity to the actual halacha; therefore, the only thing that matters is his ability to look in the mirror and content himself with the fact that he’s wearing the right looking “religious uniform.” 
• Alternatively, he only cares about appearing religious in the eyes of others; as long as other people perceive him as someone who follows halacha, that’s all that matters. 
• Like many disenfranchised Orthodox Jews who resent the minutiae and technical demands of halacha, he rationalizes his transgression, saying: “C’mon. Does God really care what my techeiles is made of? It looks exactly the same to me.” 

This list of motives is not intended to be exhaustive, but is sufficient to illustrate a common denominator: the attribution of greater importance to appearances than to reality. No matter how the indigo-user rationalizes his behavior, it all boils down to the notion that “if it looks the same, then it is the same.” 

We can now understand the nature of the transgression mentioned by the Maharsha. Substituting indigo for techeiles will certainly invalidate a person’s tzitzis. Beyond this, however, such an individual is committing a transgression of the mind [10] by ascribing more reality to human perception than to what is actually real. The same goes for the one who relies on a loophole to charge interest and to the one who uses unjust weights: in addition to their breach of justice and the loss they cause their fellow Jew, they have also warped their own sense of reality by reinforcing the notion that appearances are all that matters. 

This, I believe, is why the Gemara’s statement emphasizes Hashem’s ability to discern and punish the Egyptian firstborns. The firstborns in Egypt held positions of leadership. People could readily identify who was and wasn’t a firstborn based on their societal distinction. But as Chazal teach, the plague of the firstborn didn’t only target the individuals who held the societal role of firstborn. Every firstborn was killed, even those who weren’t identifiable as such. Rashi [11] provides an example of this in his commentary on the pasuk: “there was no household in which there was no dead person” (Shemos 12:30): 

Some Egyptian women were unfaithful to their husbands and bore children from unmarried men. Thus they would have many firstborn; sometimes one woman would have five, each one the firstborn of his father. 

Despite the fact that these bastard firstborns were excluded from the hierarchical prominence of their firstborn status, this didn’t protect them from death. Hashem’s smiting of real firstborns over merely perceived firstborns shattered the primacy of human perception over actual reality. 

This, according to Rashi, is the thematic association we are to make between Yetzias Mitzrayim and tzitzis. In his final comment on the parashah of tzitzis he underscores this theme yet again: 

[The thread of blue] is called “pesil techeiles” because of the bereavement [suffered by the Egyptians] over the loss of their firstborns. The Aramaic translation of [the Hebrew word for] “bereavement” (sheekool) is teechla [a word similar to techeiles], and they were stricken at night, and techeiles is similar to the color of the sky as it darkens towards the evening. 

In other words, when a person sees the techeiles in his tzitzis, he is supposed to associate to the plague of the firstborn based on the name “techeiles” which alludes to Egypt’s “bereavement” over the loss of their firstborns, the shade of blue which alludes to the color of the sky close to the time that the plague occurred, and to Hashem’s ability to discriminate between firstborn and non-firstborn, as reflected in the halacha prohibiting the use of indigo. 

As “drushy” (i.e. homiletical and “loose” in their interpretive style) as these explanations may sound, they clearly convey Rashi’s answer to our original question about the thematic connection between Yetzias Mitzrayim and tzitzis. 

Let us conclude on another homiletical point. My chavrusa suggested that perhaps this idea can be extended to one of the other functions of tzitzis: “so that you may remember and do all My mitzvos and be holy to your God.” When it comes to the observance of Hashem’s mitzvos and the ongoing quest to become kedoshim (holy), what matters is our adherence to halacha – not the appearance of religiosity in the eyes of human beings. 

Footnotes:

[1] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 15:41 

[2] The term used in halacha here is kala ilan (קלא אילן), which I have only ever seen translated as “indigo.” 

[3] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Talmud Bavli: Bava Metzia 61b, d”h kala ilan 

[4] It is prohibited for a Jew to charge interest from another Jew. The source-pesukim mention Yetzias Mitzrayim: “Do not take from him interest and increase; and you shall fear your God, and let your brother live with you. Do not give him your money for interest, and do not give your food for increase. I am Hashem, your God, Who took you out of the land of Egypt, to give you the land of Canaan, to be a God unto you” (Vayikra 25:36-38). 

[5] It is prohibited to use unjust weights and measures. The source-pesukim mention Yetzias Mitzrayim: “You shall not commit a perversion in justice in measures of length, weight, or volume. You shall have correct scales, correct weights, correct dry measures, and correct liquid measures – I am Hashem, your God, Who brought you forth from the land of Egypt” (ibid. 19:35-36). 

[6] Without getting into the intricacies of the halacha, this refers to some “loophole” which would allow a Jew to effectively charge interest from another Jew without technically violating the prohibition against charging interest. 

[7] Rav Shmuel Eidels (Maharsha), Chidushei Halachos d”h she’toleh kala ilan 

[8] Genuinely not intended as a tzitzis pun. 

[9] This is reminiscent of Korach’s view in the famous midrash about the tallis made entirely of techeiles. Korach’s argument boils down to: “As long as it achieves its philosophical objective, what difference does it make how we get there? This insistence on conformity with the technical halacha is bogus!” 

[10 The fact that this is a transgression of the mind is why he violates it based purely on his intent. The very moment he plans to substitute indigo for techeiles, he has already evidenced the underlying flaw at the root of this transgression, even if he never actually wears the garment. 

[11] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Shemos 12:30 citing Mechilta 13:33

Parashas Balak: One Reason Why Women Should Learn Gemara

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Parashas Balak: One Reason Why Women Should Learn Gemara 

Two Like-minded Rebellions 

Zimri ben Salu, prince of the tribe of Shimon, staged a public rebellion against Moshe: 

Behold! A man from the house of Israel came and brought near a Midianite woman in the sight of Moshe and in the sight of the entire assembly of the Children of Israel, and they (i.e. Moshe and the Children of Israel) were crying at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting. (Bamidbar 25:6) 

Rashi, citing a midrash in Sanhedrin 82a, fills in the details of Zimri’s public demonstration: 

[Zimi] seized [Cozbi, the Midianite woman] by her hair and brought her before Moshe. “Son of Amram,” he exclaimed, “is this woman forbidden or permitted? And if you say, ‘she is forbidden,’ then who permitted you [to marry] Yisro’s daughter [Tzipora]?” 

This isn’t the first time that a leader of Israel challenged Moshe by attempting to undermine his halachic authority. The most famous instance was the rebellion of Korach. The midrash Tanchuma fills in the details of Korach’s confrontation with Moshe: 

What did [Korach] do? He arose and gathered 250 heads of courts … and he dressed them in tallisos (prayer shawls) made entirely of techeiles (i.e. the blue threads which it is a mitzvah to incorporate into the tzitzis – white fringes – on every four-cornered garment). They came and stood before Moshe. They said to him, “A tallis made entirely of techeiles – is it obligated in tzitzis or exempt?” He said to them, “Obligated.” They began to laugh at him, [saying,] “Is it possible that [in the case of] a tallis is made entirely out of another [color of] material, a single thread of techeiles exempts it, [but] this [tallis] which is made entirely of techeiles will not exempt itself?” 

There are clear parallels between the rebellions of Zimri and Korach. Both were driven by personal motives: Zimri by his lust for non-Jewish women, and Korach by his jealousy over the leadership positions held by his cousins, Moshe and Aharon. Both Zimi and Korach staged public acts of defiance which aimed to discredit Moshe in the eyes of the assembly. Both sought to undermine Moshe’s authority by showing that halacha is ridiculous, and should therefore not be taken seriously. 

Anyone who has even a basic knowledge of halacha can see through the childish arguments made by Zimri and Korach. Why was Tziporah permitted to Moshe? Because they got married before Matan Torah (the Giving of the Torah), when there was no halacha prohibiting a Jew from marrying a non-Jew! In fact, before Matan Torah, there were no “Jews” in a technical sense. Both Moshe and Tziporah were halachically non-Jewish, and both became Jews at the same time as the rest of the Children of Israel, after the Torah was given and the covenant was made. Why does a tallis made entirely of techeiles still require a thread of techeiles? Because the halacha states that every four-cornered garment, no matter what color, is obligated in tzitzis and techeiles! Although Korach might be able to argue that there is no philosophical purpose to the thread of techeiles on a tallis made entirely of techeiles, this would have no bearing on the halachic requirements of the mitzvah, since we never make halachic rulings on the basis of philosophical considerations. 

Rationalization of “Going Off the Derech” (i.e. Becoming Irreligious) 

Every year, usually at springtime, I am asked to give a presentation to the 12th graders about how to retain and continue to develop their Orthodox Jewish identity after graduation, when they venture out into the secular world as young adults. One of the main points I make and stress is that the human being cannot tolerate cognitive dissonance for an extended period of time. If there is a contradiction between one’s beliefs, ideas, and values on the one hand, and one’s desires, actions, and habits on the other, the latter will tend to prevail. The most common means by which this will occur is theological rationalization. 

In other words, a person will not, in the long-run, be able to say, “I believe that the Torah is true and halacha is binding, but I don’t keep such-and-such halacha because I can’t help myself.” The cognitive dissonance and negative self-image will be too much for the psyche to bear for any prolonged period of time. Instead, she will rationalize her violation of halacha, coming up with spurious reasons as to why the halacha doesn’t make sense, or why it shouldn’t apply in her situation, or – in the most severe cases – why halacha as a whole is irrational. The individual will convince herself that her abandonment of halacha stems from her arguments, but in reality, the reverse is true: first she made the decision to abandon halacha, and only afterwards did she come up with arguments to retroactively justify her behavior. 

My decade of experience as a high school teacher, combined with my exposure to hundreds of “off-the-derech Jews” on the internet and social media platforms, have shown me countless examples of how flimsy these types of theological rationalizations tend to be. Every day online I encounter lapsed Jews making laughably fallacious and counterfactual lines of reasoning in support of their irreligious life choices. They think that their Clever, Enlightened, Superior minds have discovered a Truth which their religious brethren are too Dull-witted or Brainwashed to have spotted. They do not realize how ignorant, simplistic, and baseless their arguments are. 

[To be clear: I am not saying that anyone who goes off the derech is ipso facto a self-deceiving ignoramus whose arguments are all straw-men. I have encountered many Jews who do have knowledge of Judaism but have rejected it because of powerful questions and substantial philosophical arguments to which they could not find satisfactory answers. It just so happens that such individuals are rare, and tend not to be as vocal and militantly anti-religious on the internet. I also know Jews who went off the derech for personal reasons (e.g. tragedy, abuse, familial or martial relationship problems, etc.), and while these Jews may also engage in anti-religious rhetoric without substance, their situation ought to be viewed differently.] 

Rav Soloveitchik on Women Learning Gemara 

I will preface this next section with a disclaimer. The topic of whether women may or should learn Torah she’baal Peh (the Oral Torah) and Gemara (Talmud) is vast, nuanced, and fraught with difficulty. We will not even attempt to present an in-depth analysis or comprehensive overview of the topic in this article. Instead, the scope of this topic will be limited to a single statement of a single rabbinic authority: that of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (a.k.a. “The Rav”). 

On May 27, 1953, the Rav wrote a letter to Rabbi Leonard Rosenfeld on the topic of teaching Torah she’baal Peh to girls in a coeducational Jewish day school. Here is the letter in its entirety; the underlined portions do not appear in the original, and were added by me for emphasis: 

Dear Rabbi Rosenfeld,

Please accept my apologies for not answering your letters sooner. The delay was due to my overcrowded schedule. As to your question with regard to a curriculum in a coeducational school, I expressed my opinion to you long ago that it would be a very regrettable oversight on our part if we were to arrange separate Hebrew courses for girls. Not only is the teaching of Torah she’baal Peh to girls permissible, but it is nowadays an absolute imperative. This policy of discrimination between the sexes as to subject manner and method of instruction which is still advocated by certain groups within our Orthodox community has contributed greatly to the deterioration and downfall of traditional Judaism. Boys and girls alike should be introduced into the inner halls of Torah she’baal Peh.

I hope to prepare in the near future a halakhic brief on the problem which will exhaust the various aspects of the same. In the meantime I heartily endorse a uniform program for the entire student body.

With kindest personal regards, I remain
Sincerely yours,
Joseph Soloveitchik 

The Rav is unequivocal in his endorsement of women learning Torah she’baal Peh in exactly the same manner as men. Practically speaking, this means that girls should study Gemara and be trained in the rigors of Talmudic analysis to the same extent and following the same methods and curriculum as boys. Although the Rav was addressing a coed school, there is no reason to believe that he would hold differently about an all-girls school or seminary. 

The only part of the Rav’s letter which is unclear is his statement that “This policy of discrimination between the sexes as to subject manner and method of instruction … has contributed greatly to the deterioration and downfall of traditional Judaism.” The question is: How so? How does teaching women Torah she’baal Peh and Talmud prevent this deterioration? 

Halachic Thinking and Assimilation 

I don’t know how the Rav would answer this question, but I do have my own answer. The failure to train Jewish girls and women in the highest levels of Torah she’baal Peh and Talmud renders them susceptible to the specious arguments used to denigrate and delegitimize halacha. 

A well-trained yeshiva bochur (a young man engaged in post-high school Torah study in a rabbinic seminary) should be able to spot the flaws in anti-halachic sophistry with relative ease, due to the depth and breadth of his halachic knowledge, as well as the critical thinking skills he has acquired from his Talmudic training. But what about bas Yisrael (Jewish woman) who is only familiar with halacha on a simple level? How would she respond to an accusation of halachic hypocrisy, like Zimri’s, or a pseudo-halachic polemical protest, like Korach’s? Ask her a question about a detail of halachic practice and she may know the answer, but present a critique of Torah as a system which is rhetorically engineered to make halacha seem foolish, outdated, or unreasonable, and what is she supposed to do? How can we expect her to know what to say or think in response? 

This, I believe, is why neglecting to teach young women Torah she’baal Peh and Talmud “contributes greatly to the deterioration and downfall of traditional Judaism.” Women who do not have a firm grasp of the inner-workings of halacha and the nature of halachic thinking are particularly vulnerable to the false claims about halacha and false critiques of its validity. 

If this was true in the 1950’s when the Rav penned his letter to Rabbi Rosenfeld, then it is even truer in today’s world. Almost every Modern Orthodox girl has unfettered access (via the internet and social media) to all of the anti-halacha arguments under the sun. Teenagers and young adults are already at an age that is prone to rebellion and experimentation. Combine this with the dwindling numbers of religious people in general, and the increase in anti-religious sentiment on college campuses – both of which will make her a minority amid a hostile majority – and how can we expect her religiosity to survive intact through the crucible of her college years? Even if she remains religious, her internal conviction in Judaism will undoubtedly suffer due to the questions and doubts that have been raised and gone unanswered. 

This is one of the main reasons why I believe that girls should learn Gemara just like boys. This is also one of the long-term objectives in my own introductory Gemara course. Many of the girls in my class have never learned Gemara before, so the responsibility lies with me to give them a strong foundation. I don’t particularly care whether my female students retain knowledge of the details of what we learn. If they graduate from high school with enough Talmudic experience to appreciate halacha as a system, to be able to differentiate between the taamei ha’mitzvos (philosophical reasons for the commandments) and the technical halacha itself, and to have begun to realize that halacha operates based on its own internal principles and halachic reasoning rather than common sense, then I have done my job. 

And if I have done my job successfully, then perhaps I will have helped stem the tide of assimilation, thereby giving the next generation of Orthodox Jews a better chance to survive and thrive in Torah.

Tu b'Av and the Joy of National Cognitive Dissonance

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Tu b'Av and the Joy of National Cognitive Dissonance

Tomorrow is Tu b'Av. When I first heard about Tu b'Av (the 15th day of the month of Av), I thought it was a modern innovation - like the recent incarnation of Tu bi'Shvat as a day of environmental activism, or the secularized Yom ha'Shoah which is detached from its proper place in the framework of halacha. As it so happens, the celebration of Tu b'Av does have an authoritative source in none other than the Mishnah itself. The mishnah in Taanis 4:8 states:

Rabban Simeon hen Gamliel said: "There are no days more joyous in Israel than the 15th of Av and Yom ha’Kippurim, for on them the maidens of Jerusalem used to go out dressed in white garments — borrowed ones, in order not to cause shame to those who had them not of their own, and these clothes were also to be previously immersed – and thus they went out and danced in the vineyards, saying, ‘Young men, look and observe well whom you are about to choose [as a spouse]; regard not beauty [alone], but rather look to a virtuous family, [for it is stated:] “Grace is deceitful and beauty is futile, but a woman who fears Hashem – she should be praised” (Mishlei 31:3); and it is also said: “Give her the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise her in the gates” (Mishlei 31:31).’ And thus is it said [in allusion to this custom], ‘Go out, maidens of Jerusalem, and look on King Solomon, and on the crown with which his mother has encircled [his head] on his wedding day, and on the day of the gladness of his heart’ (Shir ha’Shirim 3:11) – ‘his wedding day’ alludes to the giving of the Torah, and ‘the day of the gladness of his heart’ alludes to when the building of the Temple was completed. May it soon be rebuilt in our days. Amen!”

The Gemara (Talmud Bavli: Taanis 30b) asks what is so special about Tu b'Av:

It is reasonable [to make this statement] about Yom ha’Kippurim, which has forgiveness and pardon, and is the day on which the second tablets were given. But the 15th of Av – what is it?

The Gemara answers by listing six joyous events associated with Tu b'Av. Here is a summary:

1. the shvatim (twelve tribes) were permitted to intermarry with one another
2. the temporary ban against the tribe of Binyamin was lifted, thereby permitting Benjaminites to marry into the rest of Israel once again
3. the Dor ha'Midbar (Generation of the Wilderness) stopped dying on Tishah b'Av, indicating the end of the punishment for the Cheit ha'Meraglim (Sin of the Spies)
4. the sentries set up by Yeravam ben Navat blocking access to Jerusalem were removed
5. the massacred Jews of Beitar were permitted to be buried
6. the annual wood-chopping for the Mizbeach (Altar) was completed

Of these six reasons, the one that caught my attention this year was #4. The Gemara says:

Ulla said: This is the day on which Hoshea ben Elah abolished the sentries that were set up by Yeravam ben Navat on the roads [to Yerushalayim], so that [the citizens of the Northern Kingdom of] Israel couldn’t make their aliyah l'regel (festival pilgrimage); [Hoshe ben Elah] said [to the people]: "Go wherever you please." 

These sentries were set up by Yeravan ben Navat way back in 797 B.C.E. (according to the timeline on chabad.org), when Shlomo ha'Melech's unified kingdom was split and Yeravam became Melech Yisrael (king of the Northern Kingdom of Israel):

Yeravam built up Shechem in the Mountain of Ephraim and dwelled in it; then he left there and built up Penuel. Yeravam then thought, “Now the kingship may revert to the House of David. If this people will go up to bring offerings in the Temple of Hashem in Yerushalayim, the heart of this people will revert to their lord, to Rechavam, king of Yehudah, and they will kill me and return to Yeravam, king of Yehudah.” Then the king took counsel, and he made two golden calves; and he said to the people, “It is too far for you to go up to Yerushalayim. These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up from the land of Egypt!” He placed the one in Beis-El and the other one in Dan. This matter became a sin, and the people traveled all the way to Dan to worship before one of them. (I Melachim 12:25-30)

Although the pesukim do not explicitly mention the sentries set up by Yeravam to block access to Yerushalayim, these obstacles are alluded to in the pesukim about Hoshea ben Elah - the very last Melech Yisrael, who assumed power in 574 B.C.E. (according to chabad.org), over 200 years later. Unlike all of the other Malchei Yisrael, about whom it is said that they "did what was evil in the eyes of Hashem," the pesukim report about Hoshea ben Elah that "he did what was evil in the eyes of Hashem, but not like the kings of Israel who were before him" (II Melachim 17:2). The Gemara (Gittin 88a) explains this qualification:

Rav Kahana and Rav Asi said to Rav: “It is written of Hoshea ben Elah: ‘He did what was evil in the eyes of Hashem – but not like the Kings of Israel’ and it is written: ‘Shalmaneser, King of Assyria, went up against him; and Hoshea became his vassal and sent him a tribute’ (ibid. 17:3)”! [This would seem to imply a wrongdoing on his part!]

[Rav] replied to them: “Yeravam had stationed sentries on the roads so that Israel wouldn’t go up [to Yerushalayim to make pilgrimage] on the festivals, and Hoshea abolished [these sentries]. Nevertheless, Israel didn’t make pilgrimage on the festival. Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu [therefore] said: “[Corresponding to] those years during which Israel didn’t make pilgrimage, they should go into captivity.”

The reason why Ulla's explanation of Tu b'Av caught my attention is because it didn't lead to a good outcome! I'd understand if Hoshea removed the sentries and the citizens of the Northern Kingdom flocked to the Mikdash (Temple) in Yerushalayim once the sentries were removed - but as our Gemara says, that didn't happen! I'd also understand if Hoshea's decision as king was an entirely praiseworthy act - but according to Chazal, it wasn't! The Talmud Yerushalmi's (Taanis 4:6) version of the aforementioned Gemara in Gittin includes an explanation of Hoshea's misstep:

R’ Chiyya bar Ashi said in the name of Rav: “It was on that day that Hoshea ben Elah removed the sentries that Yeravam ben Navat set up on the roads.” Kahana asked Rav: “He did all this good, and yet it is written concerning him: ‘Against him came up Shalmaneser, king of Assyria; [and Hoshea became his vassal and paid him tribute]’?” 

[Rav] replied to him: “It was because he took the chain from around his own neck and put it around the neck of the community. He did not say, ‘Everyone go up [to Yerushalayim for the pilgrimage festival]!’ but rather ‘Whoever wants to go up may go up [for the pilgrimage].’”

In other words, removing the sentries was good, but it wasn't good enough. As king, he should have been more proactive in guiding his people on the proper path. Apparently, his proto-progressive "freedom of religion" policy was not enough in Hashem's eyes to spare Hoshea.

So if Hoshea's removal of Yeravam's stumbling block did not, in actuality, lead to a national teshuvah in the Northern Kingdom, why is this identified as a cause for celebration on Tu b'Av?

The simple answer is that the removal of ra (evil) is, in and of itself, a cause for celebration, even if it doesn't ultimately bear fruit. In this case, the removal of Yeravam's roadblocks was a joyous event, since it left Israel with no impediments to doing the mitzvah of aliyah l'regel.

I would like to suggest a modern day example of this type of opportunity-turned-tragedy: the recapturing and subsequent relinquishment of Har ha'Bayis (the Temple Mount) by Israel in the Six Day War of 1967. Mere hours after the victorious proclamation, "Har ha'Bayis is in our hands!" Moshe Dayan returned it to the control of the Muslim Wakf, and, in a Hoshea-esque justification, said: "We did not come to conquer the sacred sites of others or to restrict their religious rights, but rather to ensure the integrity of the city and to live in it with others in fraternity." Like the removal of Yeravam's sentries, the restoration of Har ha'Bayis to Jewish sovereignty was an occasion worthy of joyous celebration, even though the opportunity was squandered almost immediately thereafter.

I thought of a second possibility for why Hoshea's removal of Yeravam's sentries might be an occasion of joy, even though it didn't lead to any good. I will acknowledge at the outset that this explanation is a bit of a stretch. 

Perhaps the joyous occasion was not the opportunity for the nation to do the mitzvah of aliyah l'regel, but rather, the opportunity for the nation to do teshuvah by making a bechirah (free will) decision. 

My answer is based on the explanation in the Yerushalmi, that Hoshea "took the chain from around his own neck and put it around the neck of the community" by telling them, "Whoever wants to go may go!" instead of commanding them to go. The Gemara identifies this as a failing on Hoshea's part. This may be true, but at the same time, Hoshea's decision granted the people of Israel a unique opportunity for teshuvah. If he had commanded them to go to Yerushalayim, they might have done it simply because it was mandated by their king. But by giving them the choice, it forced each person to exercise his or her own bechirah by choosing whether or not to do the mitzvah. In the past, it would be easy to rationalize not making aliyah l'regel by placing the blame on Yeravam or on the regnant king, but thanks to Hoshea's "religious freedom" edict, the people could no longer blame anyone but themselves. If they didn't go to Yerushalayim, it was undeniably their choice.

This hearkens back to an earlier event in the history of Malchus Yisrael: Eliyahu ha'Navi's speech to Bnei Yisrael on Har ha'Carmel:

Achav [the evil king of Israel] sent among all the Children of Israel and he gathered the prophets [of Baal] to Mount Carmel. Eliyahu approached all the people and said, "How long will you dance between two opinions? If Hashem is the God, follow Him! And if Baal [is the god], go after him!" - but the people did not answer him at all.

By calling them out with such a direct and provocative challenge, Eliyahu was, in effect, forcing each Israelite to make a decision about what he or she believed. Had he not done this, Bnei Yisrael could have conveniently avoided confronting their cognitive dissonance. They could have gone along with the prophets of Baal when the latter were ascendant, and switched teams when Eliyahu’s side was winning – all without having to take a stand and make a decision. Eliyahu's statement forced each Jew to ask himself: "What do I believe?"

Similarly, Yeravam's sentries prevented Bnei Yisrael from making a real decision - and if Hoshea had commanded them to make aliyah l'regel, they still wouldn't have had to make a decision. But by "placing the chain on their neck," giving them the choice, he was providing them with a unique opportunity to do teshuvah gemurah (complete teshuvah) by confronting their own resistance to aliyah l'regel, and everything that aliyah l'regel entailed. This opportunity – the situation in which a nation is forced to confront its own cognitive dissonance – that is something to be celebrated, even if it didn't lead to teshuvah, and even if Hoshea wasn't motivated by good intentions.

Do I think that this is actually the reason why we celebrate on Tu b'Av? No. My second answer is far more speculative than the simpler explanation mentioned above. Nevertheless, even if this isn't the real reason that Chazal had in mind, I think it's still a valuable insight to think about on Tu b'Av. 

Am I Qualified to Write this Blog?

I have tried to cut down on the number of "personal" posts I write here, compared to the old blog. Nevertheless, I have found that "learning" and "my relationship with learning" are so inextricably bound together in my mind that I can't help but write posts on the latter. This is one of those posts.

Artwork: Reckless Scholar, by Steve Prescott

Am I Qualified to Write this Blog?

“Not everything that is thought should be said, not everything that is said should be written, and not everything that is written should be published.” 

I have seen this quotation attributed to Rav Chaim Soloveitchik, Rav Yisrael Salanter, Rav Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, and possibly others. But the last time I heard this was a couple of years ago, when someone gave me some unsolicited advice which basically amounted to: "you shouldn't be blogging." 

This fellow went on to explain that Briskers (read: "such as ourselves") were known for being extremely reluctant to commit any of their Torah to writing, and when they did, they only published it after much deliberation and countless revisions. Based on this, he then went on to chastise me for my prolific blogging and suggested that I only publish something after extensive and complete analysis, and thorough review (preferably by my peers), until I reach the point where I am absolutely certain about what I am writing. He certainly would not approve of my summer plan of publishing one blog post every weekday. 

It is at times like these that I question whether or not I should be blogging altogether. After all, I can't exactly say that this guy was wrong about any of his points. Am I too quick to write and publish? Should I really be "thinking out loud" in writing, or should I keep my ideas to myself until they are fully developed and refined? Am I really qualified to be writing on Torah topics? Maybe I should stop ...

But whenever I have moments of self-doubt regarding my decision to write, I recall the words of Rabbeinu Bachya ibn Paquda. In his introduction to Chovos ha'Levavos (Duties of the Heart) Rabbeinu Bachya recounts the train of thought which led him to write this book. After stating all the reasons why he should write the book, he tells us why he almost didn't write the book:

But when I thought of proceeding to carry out my decision to write this book, I saw that a man like myself is not fit to compose a work like this. I estimated that my ability was insufficient to properly divide its parts, for subject was too daunting in my eyes, my knowledge too inadequate, and my intellect too weak to grasp the concepts. Furthermore, I am not an expert in the subtleties of the Arabic language which it would need to be in, due to this being the easiest language for most of my contemporaries to grasp. I feared that I would be toiling excessively at a task and that I would thus be exceeding the proper bounds [of my own limitations]. I therefore, told my soul to retract the thought and to draw back from what it had resolved on. 

Rabbeinu Bachya deemed himself to be inadequate on multiple levels. He felt he was intellectually unqualified, that the subject matter was too vast and daunting, and that he lacked the proper skills as a writer. He worried that his efforts would be misplaced, and that he would be toiling in vain.

These doubts resonate with me as well. Although I do not share Rabbeinu Bachya's hesitation about writing in the native language of my country of residence, I definitely feel under-qualified as an authority on Torah. When I compare myself to my peers - and certainly my rabbeim - I cower in recognition of the paucity of my Torah knowledge and intellectual abilities. Who am I to represent Torah in a public venue? Is what I know worthy of sharing with the world? Am I doing more harm than good by expressing my thoughts and ideas in writing? 

And then I recall Rabbeinu Bachya's response to his own self-doubting:

When I then decided to relieve myself of the burden of this toilsome burden and give up my plan of composing this work, I again suspected my soul of having chosen tranquility, to dwell in the abode of laziness, in peace and quiet. I feared that perhaps this decision to abandon the project stemmed from the desire for pleasure, and that this is what had inclined me to the way of peace and tranquility, to decide to abandon this in order to sit in the company of laziness. 

I knew that many [works of] intelligence were lost due to fear, and many losses were caused by concern. I remembered the saying: "part of caution is not to be overly cautious." I told myself, if every person who ever composed a good work or who ever taught the upright and proper path had waited until all his wishes were fulfilled, no person would have ever uttered a word after the prophets, whom God had chosen as His agents and strengthened with His divine help. If every person who had wished to attain all good qualities but was unable to attain them, had abandoned whatever he could attain of them, then all human beings would be devoid of all good and lacking all excellencies. They would have been perpetually pursuing after false hopes, the paths of righteousness would have been desolate, and the abodes of kindness would have been abandoned.  

I understood that while men's souls lust greatly to attain evil ends, they are sluggish to toil in the pursuit of what is noble. They are lazy in seeking the good, and always walk in the paths of laughter and rejoicing. If a vision of lust appears to them and beckons to them, they invent falsehoods so that they may turn to it. They bolster up its arguments to make its deception seem upright, to strengthen its lies, to make firm its looseness. But when the light of truth invitingly shines before them, they make up idle pretexts to refrain from turning to it. They argue against it, declare its courses misleading and contradict its assertions, so as to make it appear inconsistent and thus have an excuse to part from it. Every man's enemy is between his own ribs, unless he has an aid from his God, a rebuker always ready for [rebuking] his soul, a powerful governor, that will harness his soul with the saddle of service, and will muzzle it with the bridle of righteousness, strike it with the stick of discipline; and when he resolves to do good, he should not delay, and if his heart entices him to a different path, he should scold it and overpower it.  

Therefore, I found myself obligated to force my soul to bear the task of composing this book, and resolved to expound its topics with whatever language or analogy would make the matters readily understandable. Among all the duties of the heart, I will only mention those which suggest themselves to me, and will not trouble to expound all of them, so that the book will not be too long. I will, however, cite among the things necessary for the clarification of each of its roots in the section allocated to it. And from God, the true Unity, may I receive aid. On Him, I place my trust and to Him I ask to teach me the right path which He desires, and which is pleasing and acceptable to Him, in word and deed, in inner and outer conduct. 

Rabbeinu Bachya realized that even if his reasons for not writing were valid, it is likely that he was just rationalizing his laziness and his pleasure-seeking. Despite his inadequacies, the work that he set out to do was extremely important, and it would be a tragedy if his abundance of caution prevented him from bringing this work to light. He recognized that if everyone with any deficiencies refrained from committing their Torah knowledge to writing, then we would be left only with the books of the prophets and nothing more. And with that, Rabbeinu Bachya threw caution to the wind (as an act of caution), trusted in God, and set himself to the task of writing the book he knew he had to write - in spite of his shortcomings.

The same is true regarding me and my blog. I am not the best writer, and I am nowhere near the most qualified Torah scholar or thinker. Nevertheless, I believe that I do have some meager Torah knowledge to offer the world, and if I refrain from writing on account of my feelings of inadequacy, this benefit will be lost. Enough people have expressed their appreciation for what I write to convince me that the good I am doing outweighs any of the harm, and as long as that remains true, I will continue to write.

If you are a reader of this blog, and have any thoughts to share on this topic, I would appreciate your input! Thank you for letting me vent my thoughts on this matter. 

Addendum

While we're here, there is one more point I'd like to make. For a while I struggled with what type of language to use in my blog, and what kind of audience to write for. Should I allow myself to use jargon and write for an advanced audience? Should I cater to those who know very little, and provide background information in detail? 

Ultimately, I settled on approach similar to the one Rabbeinu Bachya chose:

I propose to take the most direct (easiest) method of arousing, teaching, and instructing, using language clear, direct, and familiar, so that my words will be more easily understood. I will refrain from deep language, unusual terms, and the arguments in the way of "defeat" (nitzuach), which the logicians call in Arabic "Algidal", and likewise for remote inquiries which cannot be resolved in this work, for I only brought such arguments as are satisfactory and convincing according to the methods proper to the science of theology.

Likewise, I have decided to write in the plainest, clearest, and most direct manner possible for a lay audience, but on a range of topics that spans many different audiences. Some of my posts are on basic points and are geared towards beginners. Others are for the more enfranchised members of the Torah community. And some posts I write primarily for myself, because the ideas are of interest to me and I wish to clarify them by expressing them in writing. 

I hope that my decision to write in this manner has enabled me to reach the broadest audience possible, but to make my readers feel that I my blog posts are addressed to someone like them. 

Mishlei 18:9 - Destruction Through Laxity

משלי יח:ט

גַּם מִתְרַפֶּה בִמְלַאכְתּוֹ אָח הוּא לְבַעַל מַשְׁחִית:

Mishlei 18:9
Also one who is lax in his work is a brother to the master destroyer.

Major Questions / Problems

1. Who is this "master destroyer"?
2. What does it mean to be his "brother"?
3. Why focus on "one who is lax in his work"? 
4. What does the word "also" add? 
5. General Mishlei question: What is the subject of the pasuk? 

Artwork: Structural Collapse, by Sam Burley

Four Sentence Summary of the Main Idea

If “master destroyer” is someone who actively brings about destruction, then a “brother” to the master destroyer is someone who causes the same level of destruction in a different manner – in this case, through passivity. The audience of this pasuk is the person whose laxity causes the quality of his work to suffer, thereby resulting in a type of destructiveness. Such an individual tends to rationalize his laxity by defining himself as “a worker,” which allows him to reassure himself and other people, saying, “See? I’m working!” Perhaps this is why the pasuk doesn't specify the consequences of this person’s behavior, but instead, calls him out on his rationalization, as if to say, “You may wish to define yourself as a worker, but in truth, you are a destroyer.”