Excessive Righteousness and Foolish Piety

Originally published in August 2012. This version has been toned down significantly.

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Excessive Righteousness and Foolish Piety

My Shul Rabbi's Message to Congregants 

When my family and I were on our journey to Orthodox Judaism, we were fortunate to find the perfect shul with the perfect rabbi. The shul was filled with Jews from across the spectrum - Chasidish, Modern Orthodox, Zionist, Yeshivish - and the majority of the congregation was, and still is, comprised of baalei teshuvah (non-observant Jews who became observant).

As you might imagine, it might be very daunting for a shul rabbi to please such a diverse crowd - but our shul rabbi is a master. He is completely non-judgmental, and makes everyone feel welcome. His shiurim (classes) and his conversation are filled with enough explanation to make baalei teshuvah feel welcome, and sufficient references to advanced material to please the scholarly crowd.

But there is one message that is often reiterated by our shul rabbi which (I believe) is intended equally for baalei teshuvah and yeshivish students alike: "Don't be too religious." Yes, he says this partially in jest, but usually does so when a congregant inquires about a halacha which is actually just a chumrah (stringency).

I used to think that our rabbi coined this phrase on his own. It wasn't until the first time I read Koheles that I realized he was borrowing the language of the pasuk: "Do not be overly righteous or excessively wise - why should you make yourself desolate?" (Koheles 7:16).

We'll return to this at the end of the post.

Blurry Glasses 

A few years ago my chavrusa (learning partner) brought a short article to my attention:

Soon, it will no longer be necessary for charedi men to walk around while covering their eyes with their hands to avoid seeing women.

Recently, a new start-up company has begun marketing and selling special glasses in charedi neighborhoods such as Meah Shearim. The purpose of the glasses is to prevent charedi men from seeing immodestly-dressed women.

The glasses contain blurry lenses that obscure the wearer’s vision and do allow men not to (sic) see more than three meters. For those who already wear glasses, the company has designed stickers that can be affixed to the existing pair of glasses which will obscure the vision.

Yedioth Ahronot reports that the glasses, designed for the charedi community, are intended for charedi men who must go to places where women will be present. The new patent cost the inventors only NIS 25. The patent includes non-prescription glasses and the obscuring stickers. The glasses with the blurry lenses contain perforations at the bottom of the lenses enabling charedi men to look down at the ground through the perforation and still see where they are walking.

My chavrusa pointed out that the subject of this article is straight out of a Gemara (Sotah 22b) we once learned. When sitting down to write this blog post, I found myself paralyzed by the numerous directions it might take. But I think I'll just content myself with citing the text of the Gemara, drawing the connection, and making a few observations here and there - without attempting any grand theories or explanations.

The Scourges of Prushim Ruin the World

In order to fully appreciate the Gemara, we'll need to see it in the context of the Mishnah, which appears on 20a. The last clause of the Mishnah reads:

[R' Yehoshua] used to say: a chasid shoteh (foolish pietist), a rasha arum (cunning evildoer), an ishah prushah, and the scourges of prushim - these are the ruiners [or alternatively: "destroyers"] of the world.

The Gemara explains that each of these terms refers to a personality-type which expresses itself in specific behaviors. For instance, "chasid shoteh" is a man who refuses to save a the life of a drowning woman because he doesn't want to gaze at women. "Rasha arum" is a person who explains his argument to the judge before his fellow litigant arrives, which the Meiri universalizes to mean "someone who strategically harms others for his own benefit in undetectable ways." An "ishah prushah" is the subject of a machlokes (disagreement), which we won't get into now. We will focus on the last item in the list: "scourges of prushim," which is somewhat related to the first. 

I think it will be beneficial to read the Rambam's commentary on this Mishnah, since he gives us a better idea of the types of people we are talking about. The Rambam [1] first explains the term "chasid shoteh":

The Talmud explains that this refers to an individual who exhibits an exaggerated level of [halachic or pseudo-halachic] precaution and scrupulousness to the point where he becomes disgusting in the eyes of people, and he does actions which are not obligatory. It is as if the Mishnah said that he is "shoteh b'chasiduso" ("foolish in his piety"). The Sages said in the Gemara Yerushalmi that anyone who is exempt from something and does it anyway is considered a hedyot (ignoramus, probably related to the Greek idiōtēs).

Similarly, the Meiri [2] defines the chasid shoteh as "a person who makes himself excessively pious in a manner which causes harm, either to himself or to others." He adds a few more examples of this type of behavior: "someone who fasts every day ... someone who sees a baby drowning in a river and says, 'Let me take off my tefillin first' [before he jumps in to save him]."

Next, the Rambam addresses the ambiguity of the term "prushim" (lit. "those who are separated"). The difficulty is that "Prushim" (with an uppercase "P") refers to the Phraisees who opposed the Sadducees during the era of the second Beis ha'Mikdash, whereas "prushim" (with a lowercase "p") means "ascetics." The Rambam first explains the origin of the term and then how it is used in our Mishnah and the accompanying Gemara:

The Sages, of blessed memory, called themselves “Prushim” on account of their separating themselves from vices, abominations, and the pursuit of the phenomena of Olam ha'Zeh (This World) which preoccupy the rest of mankind; instead, they turn towards life in Olam ha'Ba (The World to Come) and lofty matters.

However, there is another type of person who decorates himself with these things and makes himself appear in other people’s eyes that he has separated himself from these lowly and abominable things, while at the same time, these very same things permeate his character, and he only separates himself from them on account of some worldly motive.

This is what the Sages are referring to when they say, “there are seven prushim [who ruin the world],” and they enumerate anyone who makes himself seem pious, due to one of these worldly motivations – for example, so that people should honor him, or that Hashem shouldn’t cause him to lose his money and bring harm to him. In the opinion of the Sages, there is no true parush except for one who serves God out of love, like Avraham Avinu; the other six are despicable, since they add onto their preexisting obligations and exaggerate their external superficialities in order to deceive people.

Therefore, because they add to the Torah and make it despicable, they are nicknamed “scourges” and the Sages refer to them as “the scourges of the prushim.” The Sages said that they are the “destroyers of the world (mechalei olam)” or “ruiners of the world (mevalei olam)” because these things are harmful to man’s existence. 

It should be noted that the Mishnah and Gemara are only condemning those "prushim" whose piety is a sham - not to those who have truly reached the true virtue of prishus, who are praised by Chazal and looked upon with favor in the eyes of Hashem. We'll refer to these as "bad prushim."

The Seven Types of Bad Prushim 

Now we are ready for the Gemara in Sotah 22b, which begins by quoting the braisa referenced by the Rambam above:

The Rabbis have taught in a Braisa: There are seven types of [bad] prushim: (1) the Shechemite Parush, (2) the Scuffed Parush, (3) the Bloodletting Parush, (4) the Pestle Parush, (5) the “What-is-my-obligation-that-I-may-do-it!” Parush, (6) the Parush out of Love, and (7) the Parush out of Fear.

The Gemara then goes on to define each of these terms. I will include the text of the Gemara, followed by Rashi's commentary [3] in brackets:

(1) the Shechemite Parush is one who does an act of Shechem. [Rashi: they circumcised themselves not for the sake of heaven; likewise, this parush's actions are for his own gratification - so that people should honor him - and they are not for the sake of heaven.]

(2) the Scraped Parush: he is the one who knocks his feet together. [Rashi: he walks in a lowly manner, heel to toe, and he doesn't lift his eyes from the ground; as a result of this, he scrapes his toes against the rocks.]

(3) the Bloodletting Parush: he is the one who causes his blood to flow against the walls. [Rashi: he makes himself like one who closes his eyes so as not to look at women, and as a result of this, he crashes his head into the wall and draws blood.]

(4) the “Pestle” Parush: Rabbah bar Shila said that he is one [whose head is] bowed like [a pestle in] a mortar. [Rashi: he walks hunched over.]

(5) the “What-is-my-obligation-that-I-may-do-it!” Parush: [Rashi explains this question to mean: "Teach me what my obligation is and I will do it."] 

[Based on this initial definition, the Gemara asks:] But isn't this is a virtue?! [The Gemara answers:] No, for this person says, “What further obligation is there for me, that I may do it?” [Rashi: "What more can I do that I haven't done?" - and he makes himself appear as though he has fulfilled everything.] 

(6) the Parush out of Love [Rashi: out of love of the reward of the mitzvos, but not out of love for the mitzvos of the Creator] 

(7) the Parush out of Fear [Rashi: out of fear of punishment; rather, what is incumbent upon a person? - To do the mitzvos of Hashem, blessed is He, out of love, as Hashem, our God, commanded us, and the reward will ultimately come.]

It would be very interesting to define all seven prushim and to understand the mentality of each personality type. It would be also be interesting to identify the modern day correlatives. Perhaps we'll do this in a subsequent post, if I can figure all of them out.

It seems clear which category our blurred-glasses-wearing brethren have stumbled into: the "Bloodletting Parush" category. Rashi's description fits perfectly: "he makes himself like one who closes his eyes so as not to look at women." I wonder whether Rashi's use of this somewhat awkward wording ("makes himself like one who closes his eyes") implies that type of parush only pretends to close his eyes. 

Either way, Rashi seems to learn the Gemara's criticism of Bloodletting Prushim to have something to do with the physical harm they bring upon themselves by their misguided attempts to eschew (what they regard to be) situations of sin. True, halacha must be followed no matter what the cost, but if a person's adherence to halacha routinely leads to physical injury, then one must wonder whether that person is actually keeping halacha, or if it is his yetzer ha'ra masquerading under the guise of religiosity. 

Lo Lishmah Exceptions

After mentioning the last two categories of prushim (i.e. the Parush out of Love and the Parush out of Fear), the Gemara comments:

Abaye and Rava said to the tanna [who was reciting the braisa:] “Do not mention the Parush out of Love and the Parush out of Fear [in the list of bad prushim], for Rav Yehuda said in the name of Rav: A person should always involve himself in Torah and mitzvos even she’lo lishmah (not for their own sake), because from she’lo lishmah, he will come to involvement lishmah (for their own sake).” 

According to Abaye and Rava, it was a mistake to include a Parush out of Love and a Parush out of Fear along with the other five individuals mentioned in the braisa. They argued that although it is not ideal to keep halacha out of love of reward or fear of punishment, these are nevertheless valid she'lo lishmah motivations which may lead a person to eventually keep Torah and mitzvos lishmah.

What I find interesting is that Abaye and Rava did not say this about the other five types of prushim. Apparently, their motivations for keeping halacha are not she'lo lishmahs which can lead to lishmah. What is the basis for this distinction? I do not yet have an answer for this. We'll leave it as a question.

Pious Garb

The last point we will consider in this post is about the retribution for this type of prushim behavior, which our Gemara goes on to state:

Rav Nachman ben Yitzchak said: “That which is hidden is hidden and that which is revealed is revealed, but the Great Beis Din will punish those who wrap themselves in gundei.” 

Rashi explains "gundei" to refer to taleisim (plural of "tallis" or "prayer shawl"). He explains the Gemara as follows:

That which is hidden is hidden from people and that which is revealed is revealed [to people]; nevertheless, to the Great Beis Din (i.e. the Heavenly Tribunal), everything is revealed, and it will exact retribution from those who wrap themselves in taleisos and make themselves appear to be prushim when they really are not prushim.

The Aruch, [4] however, learns that the word "gundei" refers to black cloaks. Apparently, even in the time of the Gemara, these types of "bad prushim" wore black in order to appear pious.

What idea is Rav Nachman ben Yitzchak teaching us in this statement? I can't say for certain, but I will take one speculative step. Why do Chazal need to reassure us that a certain aveirah will not go unpunished? Because it must be that on some level we feel that this aveirah will go unpunished. Why might we feel this way about prushim?

Perhaps the answer is simple: we are easily swayed by appearances. If we weren't easily swayed by appearances, everyone would easily see through the facades of these "bad prushim." Even those who know that wearing a black hat and a white beard has absolutely nothing to do with the state of a person's soul vis-a-vis God, it can sometimes be difficult to really feel that this is true. Perhaps this is why Rav Nachman ben Yitzchak emphasizes must tell us that our view is only partial: we only see the outward actions of these people, but not their inner state, and it is their inner state - their knowledge and their true values - which are the real basis of the Divine judgment.

Concluding Thoughts

There you have it: Chazal's diagnosis of "the scourges of prushim." There is much left to think about. But if there's one point that we walk away with, I think it should be this: that these are not new problems. The same personalities we see in the world around us were also walking around in Chazal's time. Chazal knew about them, discussed them, and recorded their thoughts in writing. If we, as a nation, ever hope to remove these ills from our society, we would be wise to understand their teachings on these matters.

And yet, for all of the insights yielded by Chazal's analysis, my shul rabbi's quip ("Don't be too religious") packs a pithier punch. Like Shlomo ha'Melech's warning ("Don't be overly righteous"), his statement prompts us to look at ourselves and examine what we mean by "religious." I'm sure Chazal would approve.

[1] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah, Sotah 3:4
[2] Rabbeinu Menachem ha'Meiri, Beis ha'Bechirah, Sotah Chapter 3
[3] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Talmud Bavli: Sotah
[4] Rabbeinu Nosson ben Yechiel (ha'Aruch), Sefer ha'Aruch

Parashas Balak: The Appeal of Baal Peor (and Darwin)

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Parashas Balak: The Appeal of Baal Peor (and Darwin)

"Israel settled in Shitim, and the people began to commit harlotry with the daughters of Moav. [The women] called the people to the sacrifices of their gods, and the people ate and bowed down to their gods. Israel attached itself to Baal Peor, and the wrath of Hashem flared against Israel." (Bamidbar 25:3)

It is safe to say that the most disgusting form of avodah zarah (idolatry) mentioned in Tanach is the worship of Baal Peor. The character of this mode of worship is alluded to in the name of the deity itself. "Peor" (פ.ע.ר.) means "to open," and denotes "the opening of an orifice" - in this case, the rectum, as we shall soon see. Thus, "Baal Peor" means "Master of the Rectum Opening." The method of Baal Peor's worship is codified by Torah she'baal Peh (the Oral Torah) in Sanhedrin 7:6:

One who defecates on Baal Peor is liable, for this is how it is customarily worshiped.

The Gemara (Sanhedrin 64a) provides a rather vivid description of how this worship was implemented in practice:

Rav Yehudah said in the name of Rav: There was an incident involving a gentile woman who was very sick. She said, "If I am healed, I will go and worship all of the avodah zarah in the world." She was healed, and went to worship all of the avodah zarah in the world. But when she came to the avodah zarah of Peor, she asked [one of] the priests, "How do you worship this one?" He said, "You eat and drink laxatives and defecate in its face." She said, "I would rather be sick again than to worship avodah zarah like this!" 

The Gemara then reports that the highest level of Baal Peor worship was, sadly, demonstrated by a Jew:

But the Jews were not that way ... There was an incident involving Savta ben Elas who rented out his donkey to a gentile woman. When they reached Peor she said to him, "Wait here until I go in, [worship], and come out." After she came out he said to her, "You, too, wait for me until I go in, [worship], and come out." She asked him, "But aren't you a Jew?" He responded, "That's none of your business." He went in, defecated in its face, and wiped himself on its nose, causing the priests to praise him saying, "We've never seen anyone worship like this before!"

Those who learn these facts about Baal Peor for the first time are likely to react by falling to their knees, gazing heavenward with outspread palms, and exclaiming, "WHYYYY????" 

As "civilized Westerners" with "modern sensibilities" it is difficult enough to relate to the standard modes of avodah zarah, such as bowing down to a statue or offering incense and libations - but at least we can understand the appeal in such rituals. Baal Peor, on the other hand, runs contrary to all of our common-sense assumptions about religion, both modern and primitive. To my knowledge, human feces is regarded as repulsive across all cultures and time periods. The notion of a religion built around bowel movements strikes us as absurd.

The question is: What was the appeal of Baal Peor? [1] How could dung be elevated to the level of devotion? How could people regard excrement as sacrament? How could poo prove piety? ... okay, that's enough scat-talk for now. 

Today I came across an explanation given by Rav Hirsch [2] which opened up [3] an entirely new world of insight for me. He writes:

There were various baalim, deified powers. There was Baal Tzefon, a midnight god of the desert (Shemos 14:2). In contrast, there was Baal Maon (Bamidbar 32:38), a god of dwelling places, and Baal Bris (Shoftim 8:33), a god of the union of people. There was also Baal Zevuv (Melachim II 1:2), apparently a god of decay to whom they would turn in times of illness and inquire of him about life and death.

And there was also Baal Peor, a god of shamelessness, who was worshiped by giving brazen prominence to the most bestial aspects of human life. Hence, Hoshea says: "They came to Baal Peor and dedicated (va'yinazru - from the same root as "nazir") themselves to shamefulness" (Hoshea 9:10) - [that is to say, they] sanctified/designated themselves for shamefulness. 

The cult of Peor is an illustration of the type of Darwinism that glories in man's descent to the level of the beast, where, stripping himself of his Divinely-given nobility, he comes to regard himself as merely a highly-developed animal.

Allow me to repeat the key elements of Rav Hirsch's answer: "Baal Peor, [was] a god of shamelessness ... [Bnei Yisrael] sanctified/designated themselves to shamelessness." This, in essence, was the appeal of Baal Peor and its peculiar form of worship. In order to understand the underlying philosophy and nature of this cult, we need a brief refresher on the relationship between shame and pleasure.

Ever since the cheit (sin) of Adam and Chava, the human psyche has been forced to operate under the ever-present surveillance of the conscience. The fear, shame, and guilt that are generated by the conscience are virtually inescapable. Although the conscience was given to us for our benefit, as a counter-force to keep man's instinctual nature in check to help mitigate the consequences of the cheit [4], it has also given rise to a number of difficulties - some of which are objective (e.g. shoulds and religious guilt), and others of which are subjective. 

One of these subjective difficulties is the fact that it is impossible for us to simply enjoy pleasure, like an animal does. Instead, we are compelled to justify our pursuit of pleasure within the parameters of value systems to which we subscribe. When we partake of a pleasure in a manner that runs contrary to our value systems, we experience cognitive dissonance - usually in the form of fear, shame, or guilt. The easiest way to get out of this state of conflict is through rationalization. Rather than confronting the causes and effects of our "moral failings" [5] it is much easier to hastily explain away our misdeeds by coming up with excuses. If such moral lapses become habit, we tend to alter our value systems in order to legitimize our new pattern of behavior. Ultimately, morality yields to habit and desire.

I believe that the reason why the cult of Baal Peor - "the god of shamelessness" - was so attractive is that it granted license for the unbridled indulgence in physical pleasure by sanctifying the rejection of the conscience. 

In other words, the appeal was two-fold: (1) Baal Peor worshipers were granted the freedom to gratify all of their basest animalistic desires, and (2) their rebellious flaunting of shamelessness - epitomized in the hallowed ritual of public defecation - was imbued with religious value, thereby allowing them to bypass the cognitive dissonance that they ordinarily would have experienced.

This dual-allure of Baal Peor worship carries tremendous power. Imagine informing a lazy student that neglecting his homework and tearing up his tests will earn him an "A" in his least favorite class class, or telling an alcoholic that nightly binge-drinking will win him free booze the next day. Similarly, if a priest of Baal Peor tells people that there is a god who wants them to abandon themselves to their hedonistic tendencies, and that the path to freeing oneself from shame is to revel in shamelessness, then he is bound to attract a multitude of followers. Add to this the perk of not needing to pay exorbitant sums of money for lavish offerings (excluding the cost of food and laxatives), and you've got yourself a recipe for a powerful cult.

We can now understand why the worship of "The God of Shamelessness" was accompanied by the sexual corruption which is emphasized by the Torah as the leading cause of Bnei Yisrael's downfall. On the surface it would seem that there is no relationship between fecal rites and sexual promiscuity, but in light of Rav Hirsch's explanation, the connection is clear: the licentiousness of the daughters of Moav was sanctioned by the religion of shamelessness. Their unrestrained sexual depravity was fueled by their worship of Baal Peor, who - in their minds - found favor in acts of wanton debauchery.

According to Rav Hirsch, this explains the enormous number of Jews who died as a result of their attachment to Baal Peor: "The number of those who died was 24,000" (Bamidbar 25:9). Rav Hirsch compares this tally to the number of deaths at the Cheit ha'Egel (Sin of the Golden Calf) and offers an explanation for the discrepancy:

At the Cheit ha'Egel only 3,000 died. Even though there were other sinners there who died an immediate death, it would seem that the number of deaths here was much greater. [Apparently,] idolatrous worship involving physical licentiousness is infinitely more severe than the metaphysical error of avodah zarah alone. 

In other words, both the Cheit ha'Egel and the cheit of Baal Peor involved "the metaphysical error of avodah zarah," but [7] in the case of Baal Peor, this error became anchored in the world of taivah (addiction to physical pleasure), which opens the doors to a more diverse range of consequences and is far more difficult to remedy - especially when the sexual immorality involves mingling with foreign women and a foreign culture.

It is interesting that Rav Hirsch associates the philosophy of Baal Peor with Darwinism. Rav Hirsch and Charles Darwin were contemporaries, and wrote their major works at around the same time. [8] It is important to note that Rav Hirsch was  not opposed to the theory of evolution per se on religious grounds. To the contrary - he wrote: [9]

Even if this notion [of evolution] were ever to gain complete acceptance by the scientific world, Jewish thought, unlike the reasoning of the high priest of that nation (probably a reference to Thomas Huxley, who advocated Darwinism with missionary fervor—N.S.), would nonetheless never summon us to revere a still extant representative of this primal form (an ape—N.S.) as the supposed ancestor of us all. Rather, Judaism in that case would call upon its adherents to give even greater reverence than ever before to the one, sole God Who, in His boundless creative wisdom and eternal omnipotence, needed to bring into existence no more than one single, amorphous nucleus, and one single law of “adaptation and heredity” in order to bring forth, from what seemed chaos but was in fact a very definite order, the infinite variety of species we know today, each with its unique characteristics that sets it apart from all other creatures.

Nevertheless, Rav Hirsch clearly sensed that Darwinism - as a social ideology - tapped into the same underlying sentiments as the ancient worship of Baal Peor. In contrast to the Baal Peor devotee who assuages his conscience by making a stool deposit at the Shrine of Shamelessness, the Darwinian acolyte rationalizes his animalistic behavior by embracing a philosophy that preaches: "You are essentially an animal; it is only natural to act like one."

Here we have two examples of metaphysical outlooks which come prepackaged with a moral philosophy: the ancient, religious, primitive devotion to Baal Peor and the modern, atheistic, scientific devotion to Darwinism. Both are insidious because they contain a core of truth: the creed of Baal Peor plays upon our latent sense that the conscience is an unnatural burden (which, from the strict standpoint of the Torah's account of creation, is accurate), and dogmatic Darwinism rests upon a foundation of empirical evidence and scientific validity.

The take-away lesson here may be stated as follows: beware the seductiveness of a belief-system which caters to the desire to live like an animal, unsaddled by the yoke of conscience and unbound by confines of objective morality. These doctrines will appear to be legitimate, due to their authoritative veneer - whether it be the religious appeal to the spiritual mind, or the rational appeal to the scientific mind - but know the terrible cost of hearkening to their siren song. How apt is the mashal (allegory) in Mishlei which, according to the Rambam, depicts heresy as a harlot:

For the lips of a forbidden woman drip honey, and her palate is smoother than oil, but her end is as bitter as wormwood, as sharp as a double-edged sword. Her feet lead to death; her footsteps support her to the grave. Lest you liken the path of life [to hers] - her courses wander [astray]; you cannot know.

And now, children, listen to me, and do not stray from the words of my mouth. Distance your way from her, and do not come near the door of her house, lest you give your glory to others, and your years to the cruel one. Lest strangers be sated with your strength, and your painfully earned wealth [be] in a stranger's house. You will groan at your end when your flesh and your body perish. Then you will say, "How could I have hated mussar, and my heart spurned rebuke? I have not listened to the voice of my masters, and have not inclined my ear to my teachers. For a pittance [of enjoyment] I was into everything evil, in the presence of congregation and assembly!" ... (Mishlei 5:3-14)

The woman of foolishness croons; [the woman] of simpleness, who does not know anything. She sits at the door of her house, on a chair at the city heights, to call out to the passerby, who make their ways upright: "Whoever is a simpleton, let him turn here." As for the one who lacks understanding, she says to him: "Stolen waters are sweet, and bread [eaten] in secret places is pleasing." But he does not know that dead men are there, that those she invites are in the deepest grave. (ibid. 9:13-18)

Thus, the account of Baal Peor isn't merely a historical record of a sin committed by our ancestors. It stands as a contemporary warning about the ever-present threat of moral degeneracy masquerading as an elite ideology.

[1] Readers of the old blog might recall a post I wrote - entitled The Yetzer ha'Ra for Avodah Zarah - which offered an explanation of the aforementioned Gemara, along with a general answer to our question. That answer was heavily predicated on a Freudian framework. I will eventually repost it, but I suspect that the answer given in this post will find acceptance by a wider audience.

[2] Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch, Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 25:3
[3] No pun intended ... maybe.

[4] For a full treatment of this, see the Rambam's Moreh ha'Nevuchim 1:2. Also, here's a quick summary (from the transcript of an audio shiur) of how the conscience was intended to function:

G-d's punishment is different from that of man. A punishment from G-d is given to help benefit man. An analysis of the verses subsequent to the sin can help us to understand the punishment and its ramifications with respect to the human personality. In chapter 3, verse 7 states, "And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths." Prior to the sin, the Torah explicitly tells us that they were not ashamed of their nakedness. The Torah is teaching us by contrasting these fact, that prior to the sin, man did not experience embarrassment. Shame is a function of man's conscience. Before man sinned, man's energies were naturally directed to chochmah, to intellectual pursuits. After the sin, man fell prey to the instinctual. The intellectual was overpowered by the instinctual. However, man now had an additional ally to help combat the forces of the physical . . . his conscience. The conscience of man helps him to determine good from evil. The yetzer ha'tov, man's good inclination, helps man to withdraw his energies from the world of the physical and re-direct it to the world of chochmah, wisdom. However, before man sinned, he did not possess the ability to discern good from evil. His mind was naturally drawn to the intellectual. After the sin man's energies flow first to the physical, which is capable of paralyzing him. G-d thereby instilled in man a conscience to help him progress into the world of the ideational and not stagnate in the world of the physical. It is only with the aid of the yetzer ha'tov, the ability to discern good, that man can use his free will and channel his energies to the acquisition of wisdom. It is therefore no coincidence that immediately after G-d pronounced His punishment for the sin (and man was endowed with both good and evil inclinations), man began to utilize his conscience to channel his energies properly. First, he experienced shame and covered his nakedness. Then, as chapter 3, verse 20 relates, "And the man called his wife Eve, because she was the mother of all living." It seems incongruous that this occurs immediately after the pronouncement of man's punishment. However, the reason is now readily apparent. This manifests that man was using the yetzer ha'tov to help direct his energies towards wisdom. He exercised his intelligence to classify and name his wife. It was a definitional exercise that required his intellectual abilities. From this we can ascertain that a punishment from G-d is unique, as it is executed for the benefit of man. This particular event bestowed man with good and evil inclinations. It is only with the aid of the yetzer hatov that man can overcome the pratfalls of sin and can withdraw his energies away from the physical and utilize his intellect to live a life based on wisdom.

[5] I'm using quotation marks because this "moral failing" is defined by the particular value system, which may or may not have any basis in reality.
[6] al tikri "dual" ela "doo-al"
[7] butt
[8] Rav Hirsch: b.1808, d. 1888. Charles Darwin: b.1802, d.1882. Rav Hirsch published his Chumash commentaries in the years spanning 1867-1878. Darwin published On the Origin of Species in 1859, and The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex in 1871.
[9] Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch, “The Educational Value of Judaism,” Collected Writings, vol. VII, p. 264

Footnote 4

The following is a large excerpt the famous "Footnote 4" from Halakhic Man, by the Rav (a.k.a. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik). It stands out in my mind as one of the most impactful footnotes I've read. The language and references are obscure, but there is still what to be gained, even if not all of it is comprehensible upon the first reading (or two, or ten). 

This excerpt deals with the nature of the religious experience and the religious journey. I present it here without further commentary, for you to take it in on its own terms.

Footnote 4

[T]he antinomic structure of religious experience, which was revised and refined by Rudolf Otto in his book, The Idea of the Holy, give[s] the lie to the position that is prevalent nowadays in religious circles, whether in Protestant groups or in American Reform and Conservative Judaism, that the religious experience is of a very simple nature – that is, devoid of the spiritual tortuousness present in the secular cultural consciousness, of psychic upheavals, and of the pangs and torments that are inextricably connected with the development and refinement of man’s spiritual personality. This popular ideology contends that the religious experience is tranquil and neatly ordered, tender and delicate; it is an enchanted stream for embittered souls and still waters for troubled spirits. The person “who comes in from the field, weary” (Gen. 25:29), from the battlefield and campaigns of life, from the secular domain which is filled with doubts and fears, contradictions and refutations, clings to religion as does a baby to its mother and finds in her lap “a shelter for his head, the nest of his forsaken prayers” [H.N. Bialik, “Hakhnisini tahat kenafekh”] and there is comforted for his disappointments and tribulations. This ideology is partially embedded in the most ancient strata of Christianity, partially rooted in modern pragmatic philosophy; but mainly it stems from practical-utilitarian considerations. The advocates of religion wish to exploit the rebellious impulse against knowledge which surges from time to time in the soul of the man of culture, the yearning to be freed from the bonds of culture, that daughter of knowledge, which weighs heavy on man with its questions, doubts, and problems, and the desire to escape from the turbulence of life to a magical, still, and quiet island and there to devote oneself to the ideal of naturalness and vitality. This Rousseauean ideology left its stamp on the entire Romantic movement from the beginning of its growth until its final (tragic!) manifestations in the consciousness of contemporary man. Therefore, the representatives of religious communities are inclined to portray religion, in a wealth of colors that dazzle the eye, as a poetic Arcadia, a realm of simplicity, wholeness, and tranquility. Most of the sermons of revivalists are divided in equal measure between depicting the terrors of hellfire and describing the utopian tranquility that religion can bestow upon man. And that which appears in the sermons of these preachers in a primitive, garbled form, at times interwoven with a childish naïveté and superficial belief, is refined and purified in the furnace of popular “philosophy” and “theology” and becomes transformed into a universal religious ideology which proclaims: If you wish to acquire tranquility without paying the price of spiritual agonies, turn unto religion! If you wish to achieve a fine psychic equilibrium without having to first undergo a slow, gradual personal development, turn unto religion. And if you wish to achieve an instant spiritual wholeness and simplicity that need not be forged out of the struggles and torments of consciousness, turn unto religion! “Get thee out of thy country,” which is filled with anxiety, anguish, and tension, “and from thy birthplace,” which is so frenzied, raging, and stormy, “to the land” that is enveloped by the stillness of peace and tranquility, to the Arcadia wherein religion reigns supreme. The leap from the secular world to the religious world could not be simpler and easier. There is no need for a process of transition with all its torments and upheavals. A person can acquire spiritual tranquility in a single moment. Typical of this attitude is the Christian Science movement.

It would appear to me that there is no need to explain the self-evident falsity of this ideology. First, the entire Romantic aspiration to escape from the domain of knowledge, the rebellion against the authority of objective, scientific cognition which has found its expression in the biologistic philosophies of Bergson, Nietzsche, Spengler, Klages, and their followers and in the phenomenological, existential, and antiscientific school of Heidegger and his coterie, and from the midst of which there arose in various forms the sanctification of vitality and intuition, the veneration of instinct, the desire for power, the glorification of the emotional-affective life and the flowing, surging stream of subjectivity, the lavishing of extravagant praise on the faustian type and the Dionysian personality, etc., etc., have brought complete chaos and human depravity to the world. And let the events of the present era be proof! The individual who frees himself from the rational principle and who casts off the yoke of objective thought will in the end turn destructive and lay waste the entire created order. Therefore, it is preferable that religion should ally itself with the forces of clear, logical cognition, as uniquely exemplified in the scientific method, even though at times the two might clash with one another, rather than pledge its troth to beclouded, mysterious ideologies that grope in the dark corners of existence, unaided by the shining light of objective knowledge, and believe that they have penetrated to the secret core of the world.

And, second, this ideology is intrinsically false and deceptive. That religious consciousness in man’s experience which is most profound and most elevated, which penetrates to the very depths and ascends to the very heights, is not that simple and comfortable. On the contrary, it is exceptionally complex, rigorous, and tortuous. Where you find its complexity, there you find its greatness. The religious experience, from beginning to end, is antinomic and antithetic. The consciousness of homo religiosis flings bitter accusations against itself and immediately is filled with regret, judges its desires and yearnings with excessive severity, and at the same time steeps itself in them, casts derogatory aspersions on its own attributes, flails away at them, but also subjugates itself to them. It is in a condition of spiritual crisis, of psychic ascent and descent, of contradiction arising from affirmation and negation, self-abnegation and self-appreciation. The ideas of temporality and eternity, knowledge and choice (necessity and freedom), love and fear (the yearning for God and the flight from His glorious splendor), incredible, overbold daring, and an extreme sense of humility, transcendence and God’s closeness, the profane and the holy, etc., etc., struggle within his religious consciousness, wrestle and grapple with each other. This one ascends and this one descends, this falls and this rises.

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 homo religiosis, 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. Many see “the Lord passing by; and a great and strong wind rending mountains and shattering rocks . . . and after the wind an earthquake . . . and after the earthquake a fire” but only a few prove worthy of hearing “the still small voice” (1 Kings 19:11-12). Out of the straits of inner oppositions and incongruities, spiritual doubts and uncertainties, out of the depths of a psyche rent with antinomies and contradictions, out of the bottomless pit of a soul that struggles with its own torments I have called, I have called unto Thee, O Lord.

And when the Torah testified that Israel, in the end, would repent out of anguish and agony [cf. Maimonides, Laws of Repentance 7:5], “In your distress when all these things are come upon you . . . and you will return unto the Lord your God” (Deut. 4:30), it had in mind not only physical pain but also spiritual suffering. The pangs of searching and groping, the tortures of spiritual crises and exhausting treks of the soul purify and sanctify man, cleanse his thoughts, and purge them of the husks of superficiality and the dross of vulgarity. Out of these torments there emerges a new understanding of the world, a powerful spiritual enthusiasm that shakes the very foundations of man’s existence. He arises from the agonies, purged and refined, possessed of a pure heart and new spirit. “It is a time of agony unto Jacob, but out of it he shall be saved” (Jer. 30:7) – i.e., from out of the very midst of the agony itself he will attain eternal salvation and redemption. The spiritual stature and countenance of the man of God are chiseled and formed by the pangs of redemption themselves.

Parashas Mattos: Bli Neder

Artwork: Carnage Altar, by James Paick

Parashas Mattos: Bli Neder

Pasrashas Mattos opens with the laws of nedarim (vows) and shavuos (oaths). It begins with a single pasuk which is the source of the institution of nedarim: "If a man takes a vow to Hashem, or swears an oath to establish a prohibition upon himself, he shall not desecrate his word; according to whatever comes from his mouth shall he do" (Bamidbar 30:3). The parashah continues with a far more extensive discussion about the laws of revoking nedarim. 

The sequence and treatment of this topic in the pesukim reflects the Torah's wary stance when it comes to nedarim. The Torah's position is summed up by the Rambam at the conclusion of Hilchos Nedarim. He begins by identifying the proper use of nedarim:

13:23 - If a person makes nedarim in order to fine-tune his character traits and correct his behavior – this is beautiful and praiseworthy. How so? If a person was a glutton and [took a neder] forbidding himself to eat meat for a year or two; or if a person who was addicted to wine [took a neder] forbidding himself to drink wine for an extended period of time, or [forbidding] himself to ever become intoxicated; likewise, if a person who chased after bribes and was overexcited about wealth [took a neder] forbidding himself to accept gifts or to benefit from people in a certain region; similarly, if a person who was haughty on account of his own beauty took a neder nazir (a nazirite vow); and the same for all similar cases – all of these are paths of avodah la’Shem (divine service). Regarding these nedarim and those like them, the Sages said: “nedarim are a safeguard for restraint” (Avos 3:13).

While nedarim can be useful if used for the purposes described above, the Torah recognizes the danger they pose. For this reason, the Torah regards nedarim as an extreme measure - a tool to be used only when absolutely necessary. The Rambam continues:

13:24 - Even though these [vows] constitute avodas Hashem, a person should not be excessive in taking prohibitory vows, and he should not get into the habit of making them. Instead, he should he should abstain from those things from which one should abstain without taking a vow. 

Rambam concludes these cautionary remarks about nedarim by citing a strongly worded Gemara:

13:25 - The Sages said: "Anyone who makes a vow is considered as though he built a bamah (a private altar)" (Nedarim 22a). And if he transgressed and made a neder, it is a mitzvah to ask a chacham (wise man) to absolve it, so that he will not be faced with a stumbling block.

Building a bamah a serious offense. The question is: How is making a neder comparable to building a bamah? Moreover, the statement cited by the Rambam concludes by saying: "and one who fulfills his neder is considered as though he offered a korban (sacrifice) on [his bamah]." This is even more difficult to understand: even if making a neder is regarded as "bad," isn't failing to fulfill it worse? If so, how can the Gemara imply that making a neder and fulfilling it is worse than making a neder and not fulfilling it? 

The Ran addresses both of these questions in his commentary on our Gemara. Here is his explanation:

It seems to me that we compare [one who makes a neder] to one who builds a bamah because the one who makes a neder thinks he is doing a mitzvah. [His reasoning is that] since the Torah prohibited certain things, he is also [is following the path of Torah by] prohibiting [additional] things for himself. For this reason [we tell him] that he is making an error. To the contrary - he is comparable to one who builds a bamah, for even though the Torah commanded us to bring korbanos inside [the Beis ha'Mikdash], it prohibited us from adding to this by building a bamah and bringing korbanos outside [of the Beis ha'Mikdash]. Here, too, even though the Torah prohibited what it prohibited, [nevertheless,] when this person adds to what the Torah prohibited, he is committing an offense. Similarly, [the Sages] said in Talmud Yerushalmi: "Isn't it enough what the Torah prohibited you, that you must go and prohibit additional things for yourself?" This is the same reason why it uses the expression of "[bringing] a korban [on a bamah]": since his korban is not favorable [in God's eyes], it is tantamount to him building a bamah and sacrificing a korban outside [of the Beis ha'Mikdash]. 

The Ran learns that this Gemara is only talking about someone who makes a neder which is not designed "in order to fine-tune his character traits and correct his behavior" or "as a safeguard for restraint." This individual believes that there is an inherent value in obeying the Torah's prohibitions - that restricting oneself is valuable in and of itself, not as a means of perfecting oneself. Consequently, to his mind, the more prohibitions there are to follow, the more opportunities for avodas Hashem. And since the Torah offers a mechanism by which he can create extra prohibitions, he will be able to increase his reward even more,. All he has to do is make and follow more nedarim. 

According to the Ran, the Gemara's comparison to building a bamah is intended to highlight the mistake made by such an individual. Just as korbanos, per se, do not constitute avodas Hashem - or else He would have permitted them to be offered outside of the Beis ha'Mikdash - so too, keeping prohibitions, per se, is not avodas Hashem. And just as the only korbanos which find favor in God's eyes are those which are brought within the framework and parameters the Torah system, so too, the only nedarim which find favor in God's eyes are those which facilitate the Torah's objectives.

Now we can understand why fulfilling such a neder is like offering a korban on a bamah. If a person builds a bamah, he has definitely acted improperly, but at least he hasn't violated the major Torah prohibition of offering korbanos outside of the Beis ha'Mikdash - an act which is not only punishable by kareis (spiritual excision), but also diminishes the sanctity of the Beis ha'Mikdash as the exclusive location for avodas ha'korbanos (the sacrificial service). Likewise, a person who makes an unnecessary neder is certainly acting improperly, but if he fails to fulfill it, then even though he violates a Torah prohibition, at least he hasn't actually augmented his avodas Hashem by creating and keeping his own prohibitions. In contrast, someone who makes unnecessary nedarim and religiously adheres to them in the same way he adheres to the laws of the Torah - such a person has diminished the sanctity of Hashem's perfect Torah by diluting the avodah-system commanded therein with his own, personal expressions of religiosity. From a halachic standpoint, a person who keeps his unnecessary nedarim is better off, but from a philosophical standpoint, he has caused more harm to his soul that a person who violated his nedarim.

There is a widespread practice of saying "bli neder" when making statements of commitment. Some people do this as a precaution against unintentionally obligating themselves nedarim, while others just do it out of habit. This is not the place to conduct an analysis of this practice. However, I have a suggestion to make. Whenever you say or hear the phrase "bli neder," think of it as an opportunity to review this idea about nedarim. Regardless of the intent of the speaker, the words "bli neder" express the Torah's philosophy of vow-making, namely, that we should strive to keep Torah without feeling the need to invent our own stringencies. "The Torah of Hashem is perfect" (Tehilim 19:8).