Chanukah 5783: The “Beloved” Mitzvah of Ner Chanukah

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Chanukah 5783: The “Beloved” Mitzvah of Ner Chanukah

Rambam provides an unusual description of Ner Chanukah in Hilchos Megilah v’Chanukah 4:12:

The mitzvah of the Ner Chanukah is an exceedingly beloved mitzvah (mitzvah chavivah hee ad me’od), and a person must be careful with it in order to convey knowledge of the miracle and to increase the praise of God and thanksgiving to Him for the miracles He did. Even if a person is dependent on tzedakah for food, he must [nevertheless] beg [for money] or sell his clothing to buy oil and candles [so he can] kindle [the Ner Chanukah].

The Rav (Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Mipninei ha’Rav pp. 187-188) asks: What makes Ner Chanukah more “beloved” than other mitzvos? If this is because of pirsumei nisa (publicizing the miracle), then Rambam’s characterization should extend to the other mitzvos of pirsumei nisa, such as the reading of Megilas Esther on Purim and the arbah kosos (four cups) and heseivah (reclining) on Pesach – yet, only Ner Chanukah is described by him as “beloved.”

The Rav answers based on a Gemara (Shabbos 22b) about the original miracle of the oil – not the miracle that occurred during Bayis Sheini which we commemorate on Chanukah, but the one that transpired on a more regular basis during Bayis Rishon and early Bayis Sheini. The Gemara begins with a rhetorical question: "Does [God] need the light [of the Menorah]?! Didn't the Children of Israel walk exclusively by His light for the entire forty years in the Wilderness?" The Gemara answers: "Rather, [the Menorah] is a testimony to mankind that the shechinah (divine presence) rests among Israel." The Gemara goes on to describe the miracle of the Ner Maaravi (western lamp of the Menorah). The Kohen would put an equal measure of oil into all the lamps of the Menorah, but whereas the other six would burn out at night, the Ner Maaravi would miraculously remain lit, allowing the Kohen to kindle from it again each evening. This miracle was not guaranteed. Rather, as Rashi (ibid.) explains, “as long as Israel was beloved (chaviv) [before Hashem, the Ner Maaravi] would be lit all day long, and that was its testimony.”  

In other words, the miracle of the Menorah's Ner Maaravi reflected Israel’s status as the Chosen Nation, and it was this selfsame “chosenness” that was imperiled by Greek Hellenism during the era of the Chashmonaim. Not only did Hashem save us from that threat, but He testified through the eight-day miracle of the oil that the shechinah continued to dwell in Israel. This, according to the Rav, is the meaning of Rambam’s characterization of Ner Chanukah as a “beloved” mitzvah: because Ner Chanukah is emblematic of our belovedness before Hashem.

But there remains one question which must be answered to fully appreciate the Rav’s idea: What do we mean by “shechinah”? Hashem is not physical and cannot “dwell” in any location, as Shlomo ha’Melech expressed in his tefilah at the dedication of Bayis Rishon: "Does God truly dwell on earth? Behold, the heavens and the highest heavens do not contain You, and surely not this Temple that I have built!" (I Melachim 8:27).

In his commentary on the pasuk: “I shall place My indwelling (mishkani) in your midst” (Vayikra 26:11), R’ Dovid Tzvi Hoffman (1843-1921) defines “shechinah” as “the manifest divine providence that determines the fate of Israel” (ha’hashgachah ha’elohis ha’geluyah she’kovaas es goral Yisrael). Although Israel’s fate is always under hashgachas Hashem (God’s providence), that hashgachah is not always manifest. But when we experience a miracle – whether an open miracle involving a suspension of the laws of nature, like the Ner Maaravi, or a hidden miracle, like our military victory over the Greeks – we refer to such a phenomenon as shechinah.

In light of this understanding of “shechinah,” we can appreciate a nuance in the Rav’s explanation of the Rambam. Ner Chanukah is “beloved” not only because it symbolizes shechinah, but also because it exemplifies shechinah. As Rabbi Yonatan Goldschmidt so eloquently expressed: “the miracle is not only that the light lasted eight days but that these [Chanukah] lights have lasted more than 2000 years.” The continued observance of Ner Chanukah by the Jewish people, despite everything that has happened, is the greatest manifestation of hashgachas Hashem.

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Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

Rav Hirsch on Bad Biographies

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Rav Hirsch on Bad Biographies

I recently started reading a book by Hillel Goldberg called, Between Berlin and Slobodka: Jewish Transition Figures From Eastern Europe (1989), featuring biographies of six towering intellects: R’ Israel Salanter, Harry A. Wolfson, R’ Isaac Hutner, R’ Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Abraham J. Heschel, and Rabbi Joseph Z. Lipovitz. I bought it because Amazon was selling it for only $6 (!) and I figured that it would be beneficial to learn about the impact these six influential men had on Jewry.

I enjoyed reading the book from the get-go. The author is a gifted writer with an engaging style. The blurb on cover testifies that he “spent two decades in research on this biography” – a claim bolstered by the extensive endnotes and bibliography, which fill a whopping 102 pages. I read through the biographies of the first three figures, about whom I had little prior knowledge, and felt like I was learning something … until my reading was brought to a screeching halt by a critical review.

Lawrence J. Kaplan is Professor of Rabbinics and Jewish Philosophy in the Department of Jewish Studies at McGill University. He has written extensively on a wide range of topics and is regarded as one of the foremost experts on the thought of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, whose Ish ha-Halakhah (Halakhic Man) he translated into English. When I posted an excerpt from Goldberg’s book on my Facebook wall, Professor Kaplan suggested that I read his critical review essay, published in Daat: A Journal of Jewish Philosophy and Kabbalah (no.35, pp. V-XXXIV, summer 1995).

Any attempt on my part to summarize Kaplan’s review would fail to do it justice. Its power comes from its thoroughness in exposing the gaps and prejudices in Goldberg’s treatment of his subjects. Instead, I will cite his closing paragraphs:

Two general points emerge from my lengthy examination and critique of Goldberg's treatment of his four central transition figures; the first is negative, the second, positive. First, to return to my starting point, while Goldberg claims to evaluate these figures in terms of their success at integrating the various clashing worlds within them, I believe I have shown that his evaluations cannot be sustained and that what he is really offering us is a purely theological judgment in a scholarly garb. Second, my own alternative analysis of the thought of these figures, while necessarily sketchy and incomplete, leads to the tentative conclusion that they, to use Goldberg's ostensible criterion, were, despite tensions and even contradictions, considerably more successful in integrating these worlds than Goldberg would have us think.

Have I been too harsh on Between Berlin and Slobodka? Did I not state earlier that it deals with a large and important subject and did I not concede to it many considerable strengths? Why then the sharpness of my tone?

If I have taken the book to task in so uncompromising and critical a fashion, it is precisely because I, like my old friend Hillel Goldberg, am simultaneously committed to the values of Jewish Orthodoxy and intellectual responsibility, and because I believe that Goldberg has, in writing this work, allowed, however unwittingly, the former value to override the latter. I am sure I need not remind Goldberg that the rabbinic tradition itself affirms, "Truth is the seal of the Holy one, blessed be He," and, that Rav Kook, whose strict Orthodoxy Goldberg would certainly not wish to deny, adds, "The truth is more beloved than everything, and precisely in it will the Exalted One, blessed be He, be praised.”

Anyone wishing to study the phenomenon of Jewish transition figures from Eastern Europe in the twentieth century will find much valuable data and many stimulating and incisive observations and insights in Between Berlin and Slobodka. The book as a whole, however, falls far short of its stated goals.

Kaplan’s review shook me on two levels. First, it reminded me of how dependent we are on experts in fields outside of our own expertise, and how easy it is to misplace our trust without realizing it. I had never heard of Hillel Goldberg, but I trusted him because he published a book which appeared to be based on copious amounts of research. I then shifted my trust to Kaplan based on the substance of his critique, strengthened by my small measure of firsthand familiarity with his scholarly prowess. But what would happen if another expert I trusted penned an essay defending Goldberg’s analysis? I would be left with compelling cases on both sides, and I would feel helpless to draw my own conclusions. The obvious “solution” of “go forth, study the collective works of Rav Hutner in light of all biographical data, and form your own conclusions” is not practical. This dilemma is not unique to intellectual biographies, and that’s what scares me. I realize this isn’t a new or profound insight. Just a rude reminder of an unavoidable limitation on the human intellect.

Second, Kaplan’s critique reminded me of how much subjectivity is involved in any attempt to capture the essence of a human life in writing. This, in turn, prompted me to recall Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch’s critique of Heinreich Graetz’s seminal work, History of the Jews. For those who are unfamiliar, here is an informational blurb excerpted from Collected Writings of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch: Volume V (1988, Feldheim):

The historian Dr. Heinrich Graetz (1817-1891) was a professor at the Judisch-Theologische Seminar in Breslau where he published his eleven-volume History of the Jews (1853-1870). He reflected the ideological tendencies of his academic institution by accepting Biblical criticism and by believing in the historical evolution, rather than the Divine origin, of the Oral Law … Although Graetz was personally traditional in practice (and a student of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch while the latter was Rabbi in Oldenburg), his work was used by those who wished to reform Orthodox Judaism. Recognizing its danger to Torah Judaism, Hirsch reacted strongly with a “critical examination” of Graetz’s fourth volume. In a series of twelve articles in his journal Jeschurun, Hirsch quoted the pertinent passages from Graetz’s History and then disproved his theses regarding the Oral Law.

Here is Rav Hirsch’s scathing critique of Graetz’s work, which I will present here in full. (Parenthetically, I hope you’ll be able to see why this ranks among my favorite written reviews of anything, ever.)

I once had a young friend who was a deaf-mute. He was a rather popular artist in one of the German provincial capitals. All his portraits looked very much alike, yet they were not truly alike. He had a habit – we called it a peculiarity – of painting all his pictures in colossal dimensions. All his paintings were much larger than life and therefore had a strange, spectral look. One could readily surmise that the subject had sat for the portrait, but one could not state with certainty that this was indeed the one. Recognition was not the result of a visual impression, but of reflection. The portrait hinted at the identity of the subject, but it was clear that the artist had not painted his subject in terms of objective reality. He had only captured the subjective impression made upon him by the personality of his subject.

When it comes to a human subject, the artist’s eye is not his only medium of perception; the portraitist is influenced also by his emotions. Any contemplation of a human subject entails the conception of an intellectual personality. The subjective image of a subject, which is largely influenced by personal likes and dislikes, will unconsciously guide the brush in the artist’s hand. Such an image may often be entirely inaccurate. In addition, it may be further influenced by accidental poses of the subject, or even by the subject’s – or the artist’s – momentary state of health or ill-health.

This should explain the many portraits which, though they cannot be dismissed out of hand as “bad,” show features so unlike the subject and are so much at variance with his true character, that those better acquainted with him – especially his closest friends and relations – will categorically reject the portrait. The artist has captured in his work a trait that is transient or accidental (and colored by the artist’s own subjective impressions) as if it were a permanent aspect of his subject’s personality. In fact, the portrait flagrantly contradicts the character of the person they know. Regarding our deaf-mute friend, it might be worthwhile to make a psychological study to establish whether deaf-mute artists see their human subjects in a light so basically different from normal portraitists that there must always be something unusual about any portrait painted by a deaf-mute. 

Now imagine an artist whose natural angle of vision causes him to see his subjects not larger, but smaller than life. Imagine further that, over many years, this artist created portraits for which his subjects never sat. He based his work on some isolated trait in his subjects that may have come to his attention by accident and that, in addition, may have been distorted by the artist’s hasty judgment or misinterpretation. This artist then brings his creative imagination into play, using this one trait as a basis for interpreting the personality of the subject as a whole. He portrays his subjects as he saw them once, in unguarded moods, positions or activities: the one in a playful mood, the other in a pensive state; the one laughing, the other weeping; the one angry, the other joking. Some of his subjects are made to appear indignant, arrogant or impudent, while others look depressed, anxious, humble or embarrassed. But in thus portraying a person, the artist has seized upon only one note in that person’s whole range of emotions, a note which, in fact, may have been played only once in the person’s lifetime, but which the artist has perpetuated as the keynote, the dominant character. 

Now let us imagine that, years later, this artist presents to us these sketches as true-to-life portraits, committing the error of explaining the transient moods in which he painted his subjects as typical of their character. “Look,” he says, “this one was always laughing; that one had an evil temper; this one was forever playing games; that one was always deep in thought.” Even worse, he passes off these products of his imagination not only as authentic character sketches of his subjects but as prototypes of all their contemporaries; thus, “during this period, people were laughing all the time; during this other period, they tended to be depressed; this era was one of arrogance; that era was an age of anxiety and timidity.”

Now let us say that, in reply to our look of disbelief, the artist cites ancient chronicles in support of his presentation: “During that year the cherries were sour; as a result, everyone alive at the time had a sour look on his face,” or, “During this year the future looked bright; as a result, everyone was in an unusually friendly mood.” Say, further, that this artist clings to his fancies as if they were absolute truth, so much so that wherever he needs a historical reference to authenticate his portrait he feels free to invent a reference to suit the portrait. Consider all these caprices of artistic fancy, and you have the History of the Jews by Dr. H. Graetz. 

These lines were written to a friend who wanted to hear my opinion of this History soon after its publication. They reflect the impressions which the book made upon me after I read it through only once, without subjecting the author’s views and descriptions to detailed tests in the light of the data and the sources he cites in their support. Even a superficial glance at this so-called “History of the Jews” should be sufficient for anyone with even a slight knowledge of the literature cited by the author as his source material to see that this work presents more fiction than fact.

Since then, I have examined this work in detail and checked it against the cited sources. Leaving aside the religious philosophy for which it is intended as an ideological basis and which its conclusions are meant to support, I have found it to be, even from a purely scientific point of view, a product of the most outrageous, irresponsible superficiality. I therefore consider it my sacred duty to present the results of my investigation to the public.

The main point of Rav Hirsch’s analogy is that, at the end of the day, a biography is a subjective portrait. The force of his analogy lies in its depiction of just how much the author’s subjectivity can skew the accuracy of the biography. According to Kaplan, Goldberg was a tragic victim of his own subjectivity. I say “victim” because his distortion was not intentional, and I say “tragic” because of how much he misrepresents the ideas of these individuals in his account of their contributions. Kaplan goes so far as to write: “In the case of Harry Wolfson and, perhaps also, Abraham Joshua Heschel what Goldberg presents us with are not so much portraits as caricatures.”

On a personal level, I am left with one question: Do I finish reading Goldberg’s book? One the one hand, my newfound awareness of its flaws will help me to take everything I read with a heaping tablespoon of salt. Additionally, Kaplan acknowledged at the end of his review that readers will still “find much valuable data and many stimulating and incisive observations and insights.” He even encouraged me on Facebook to continue reading and to share my thoughts when I’m finished. At the same time, I’m wary about knowingly allowing inaccuracies to enter my mind and take root. Reading the chapter on Rabbi Soloveitchik might not be so bad, since I already have a wealth of diverse biographical snapshots and enough firsthand knowledge of his Torah to form my own views. But do I really want my introduction to Abraham J. Heschel to be a biography that is so slanted by the author’s value judgments that it borders on caricature? 

Although I haven’t made my decision yet, I am inclined to finish the book. Considering what I wrote above about the unavoidable perils of relying on experts and the inherent hazards in every biography, I might as well lean into the process, exposing myself to as many different takes as possible. Theoretically, I will build up a healthy skepticism from the diversity of views while accumulating a core composite image where the differing accounts overlap. Errors will be unavoidable, but that’s par for the course of being a human being with a limited intellect.

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

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

Is it Permissible to Enjoy Learning on Tishah b'Av?

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Is it Permissible to Enjoy Learning on Tishah b'Av?

When my rebbi Rabbi Morton Moskowitz zt”l passed away a few months ago, I wrote an article entitled Rabbi Moskowitz Memory #05: Tishah b’Av – the Most Enjoyable Day of the Year, which I began with the following paragraph:

If I had to associate Rabbi Moskowitz with a particular day of the year, that day would be Tishah b'Av: the most enjoyable day of every summer. No, I'm not being facetious. For me, and for those of us who were in Seattle at that time of year, Tishah b'Av was the day we looked forward to the most each summer because we knew we were in for some of the most enjoyable learning of the entire year.

I’m sure some people read this article and wondered, “Isn’t it assur to enjoy learning on Tishah b’Av?” On the surface, it would seem that the answer is a resounding: “Yes!” The Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chayim 554:1-3) writes:

On Tishah b’Av … it is prohibited to read Tanach, to learn Mishnah, midrash, Gemara, halachos, and aggados, because it is stated: “The ordinances of Hashem are upright, bringing joy to the heart” (Tehilim 19:9); school children shouldn't learn [on Tishah b'Av], but one may read Iyov and the bad parts of Yirmiyah, and if there are verses of consolation, he must skip them. It is permitted to learn Midrash Eichah and the chapter Eilu Megalchin, and it is likewise permitted to learn the commentaries on Eichah and Iyov. There are those who prohibit learning via thinking (i.e. even without speaking).

The Magen Avraham (ibid. 5) explains the rationale behind that last stringency: “Even though thinking is not equivalent to speaking … this is different, since the essential reason [for this prohibition] is because of joy, and in thinking [about Torah] there is joy.” He goes on to explain that for this same reason, it is prohibited to learn anything in depth: “It seems to me that for this reason, it is prohibited to learn any explanation or question or answer even about the ‘bad things’ because this brings a person joy.” Suffice it to say, the Magen Avraham would not approve of the hours of enjoyable in-depth learning and thinking that characterized my Tishah b’Av experiences with Rabbi Moskowitz. 

Thankfully, my posek follows a different view: that of his rebbi, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (a.k.a. the Rav). In a lengthier analysis than I can summarize in a 1-page article (see Sefer Shiurei ha’Rav al Inyanei Aveilus v’Tishah b’Av, by R’ Eliakim Koenigsberg, pp.44-46), the Rav demonstrated that the prohibition is NOT to experience joy through learning. Rather, Torah study has the legal status of “a joyous activity,” due to its very nature, and it is prohibited to involve oneself in that activity on Tishah b’Av, even if one’s personal learning experience doesn’t bring them any joy whatsoever.

What about the areas of Torah which we are permitted to learn on Tishah b’Av? Why don’t they fall under this prohibition? The Rav answered that even though each of these texts constitutes an entity of Torah and learning it would be a fulfillment of the mitzvah of Torah study, nevertheless, these subjects relate to the essential theme of Tishah b’Av. As such, not only is it permissible to learn them, but learning them constitutes an essential involvement in the aveilus ha’yom (mourning of the day). For this reason, they were never included in the prohibition against Torah study on Tishah b’Av in the first place. 

Based on this theory, the Rav – unlike the Magen Avraham – permitted in-depth study and analysis of these texts, since this constitutes an even greater involvement in the aveilus ha’yom. The Rav’s grandfather, R’ Chaim Soloveitchik, cited as a proof of this the fact that it is permissible to study the commentaries on Eichah and Iyov, even though such learning would, by definition, constitute an in-depth study.

According to the Rav’s explanation and halachic position, there is no halachic violation involved in deriving enjoyment from one’s learning of the permissible texts on Tishah b’Av. But is it philosophically appropriate to experience such joy on a day of mourning? And even if it is, does that mean we should avoid it or suppress it? The answer to that question will have to wait for another time. But as always, if you have any thoughts, I’d love to hear them!

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

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

Purim 5782 – A Theory Connecting Purim to Yom ha’Kipurim Which is NOT Based on Specious Linguistics – Part 1 (Facts and Questions)

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Purim 5782 – A Theory Connecting Purim to Yom ha’Kipurim Which is NOT Based on Specious Linguistics – Part 1 (Facts and Questions)

One of my “Purim pet peeves” is when someone gives a dvar Torah about the thematic relationship between the holidays of Purim and Yom ha’Kipurim on the sole basis of their similar sounding names. This claim rests on two pillars: (1) that both names contain the transliterated word “purim,” and (2) that the prefix “k-” means “like” in Hebrew. The claimant usually starts off with saying: “Yom ha’Kipurim is a yom (day) which is like Purim!” and then goes on to weave their own tapestry of ideas on that foundation.

This cute play on words can serve as a platform for an idea that stands on its own two feet, but anyone who thinks that this constitutes actual evidence hasn’t carefully read the megilah. The pasuk says:

In the first month, which is the month of Nisan, in the twelfth year of King Achashverosh, he cast a pur, which is a lottery, before Haman, from day to day and from this month to the twelfth month, which is the month of Adar. (Esther 3:7, translated by Neima Novetsky)

Why does the pasuk need to clarify what “pur” means? Ibn Ezra (ibid.) answers: because it’s a Persian word. Neima Novetsky, citing the BDB entry for פור, suggests that “pur” might stem from the Akkadian "puru," meaning “stone” or “lot.” Either way, “Purim” is not a Hebrew word, and therefore has no linguistic relationship to Yom ha’Kipurim – a Hebrew word from the root K.P.R. meaning “atone.”

Folk etymology aside, I was curious about the origins of the claim that there exists any sort of relationship between Purim and Yom ha’Kipurim. Despite the ubiquity of this notion, I barely found any references in the early sources. The Maharal of Prague (16th century) writes about this in his introduction to Ohr Chadash, referencing material from the medieval (11th century) Midrash Mishlei (9:2, Buber). This relationship is also mentioned in Tikkunei Zohar (21, 57b). Still, I wasn’t able to find any direct references in the works of Chazal, the Geonim, or the Rishonim … until yesterday. Rambam (Hilchos Megilah v’Chanukah 2:17) writes:

It is better for a person to be excessive in gifts to the poor than to be excessive in his meal and in sending [gifts] to his fellows, for there exists no greater or more glorious simchah (joy) than to bring simchah to the hearts of the poor, the orphans, the widows, and the converts, for one who brings simchah to the hearts of these downtrodden individuals resembles the shechinah (divine providence), as it is stated: “to bring life to the spirit of the lowly and to bring life to the heart of the oppressed” (Yeshaya 57:15).

Where do we hear this pasuk in Yeshayahu every year? In the haftarah of Yom ha’Kipurim. This makes Rambam the earliest source (to my knowledge) who relates the two holidays, albeit indirectly. Even though the application of this pasuk from Yeshayahu to Purim is a chidush (novel insight) on the Rambam’s part, caring for downtrodden individuals is undeniably one of the major themes of Purim. Moreover, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (The Rav Thinking Aloud, by David Holzer, p.65) notes that it is always preferable to base a philosophical idea on a halachic (legalistic) source rather than an aggadic (homiletical) one:

With aggada, we are not sure that what we say is correct. We have no tradition as to the interpretation of the maxim, as we do in halachah. When testing philosophical ideas, it is thus preferable to introduce a halachic, rather than aggadic, motif.

Now that we’ve established that there is a thematic relationship between Purim and Yom ha’Kippurim which is reflected in halacha, the question remains: What is that relationship?

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

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

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

The Necessity of Metaphysical Trauma for National Teshuvah

This week's Torah content is sponsored by the Reznik family in dedication to the loving memory of Silvia Tanzer (Sora Hesha bas Chaim Moshe) and Irving Tanzer (Yisroel ben Yechezkel).

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Artwork: Tainted Pact, by Benjamin Ee

The Necessity of Metaphysical Trauma for National Teshuvah 

In The Induction of Metaphysical Trauma I argued that the national teshuvah of Tishah b’Av can only take place from a state of metaphysical trauma – from “abiding sentiments of grief, the resulting sense of void, and the hopeless feelings of groping in the dark,” to borrow the words of Rav Soloveitchik. The question is: Why is this state of “metaphysical trauma” necessary for national teshuvah?

Radical Hope: Ethics in the Face of Cultural Devastation, by Jonathan Lear, is a philosophical-anthropological analysis of how Plenty Coups, the last chief of the Crow Nation, led his people when their world – that is, their rituals, traditions, and ways of living – came to an abrupt end. Lear’s thesis is that the Crow Nation did not merely lose the particulars of their way of life when they were forced to move onto the reservations; rather, they lost the world of concepts which made that life conceivable, thereby rendering it impossible to live. Lear provides the following “very rough analogy” for this phenomenon:

Imagine that pieces of a chess game had inner lives. And imagine that each took itself to be a center of agency. I am a knight! I see myself in tribal terms: I am a black knight! I am proud to a black knight! We shall fight a glorious battle and capture the white king! I think strategically in terms of my possible moves: two up and one to the right, two up and one to the left. Perhaps I should wait here quietly for several moves, and if that white rook comes my way ... I understand all the other members of my tribe in terms of the roles they play: and I understand that we are all aspiring to excellence in the sense that we are trying to win. Unbeknownst to me, my world exists because it is protected by a group of humans. These are the guardians of the chess world, who insist that the only acceptable moves are moves that are allowable within the game of chess. From my point of view as a thoughtful knight, the humans are as unknowable as the transcendent gods. But suppose these chess-guardians were one day just to give it up: as a historical phenomenon, humans got bored with playing this game, and the game of chess goes out of existence. My problem is not simply that my way of life has come to an end. I no longer have the concepts with which to understand myself or the world. I understood the other pieces in terms of their roles, but there are no longer any such roles. Perhaps I am found attractive by humans as a physical object. I am put on a bookshelf as a curiosity, an objet d'art. I might sit for generations on a series of bookshelves – get traded as what humans call an antique – and all this while I am in utter confusion. I have no idea what is going on. This isn’t primarily a psychological problem. The concepts with which I would otherwise have understood myself – indeed, the concepts with which I would otherwise have shaped my identity – have gone out of existence.

Bessel van der Kolk, in The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma, says of his work with trauma victims: “I have to help them reconstruct [their] inner map of the world.” Unlike personal teshuvah, national teshuvah requires a reconstruction of the world of concepts in which we live. It is impossible to radically reconstruct our world unless we have recognized and felt its utter destruction, intellectually and viscerally. This is why metaphysical trauma is necessary for national teshuvah. Only when we “hit rock bottom” and suffer the consequences of the false concepts and corrupt values that we, as a society, have embraced – only then can we begin to rebuild. The core experiences of national trauma were generated by the instances of “divine wrath” throughout Jewish history. The communal fast days are designed to preserve and reawaken this trauma on a recurring basis to “open the paths of teshuvah.”

Perhaps this is the meaning of Moshe’s prophecy about the national teshuvah that will occur at the end of days: “When you are in distress and all these things have befallen you, at the end of days, you will return to Hashem, your God, and hearken to His voice” (Devarim 4:30). Like the Crow, the Jewish people may endure the total destruction of our world. But we, unlike they, have access to teshuvah: the ability to return to “Melech ha’Olam” – the King of the world of concepts and values in which we ought to live.

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

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

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

The Induction of Metaphysical Trauma

This week's Torah content is sponsored by the Reznik family in dedication to the loving memory of Silvia Tanzer (Sora Hesha bas Chaim Moshe) and Irving Tanzer (Yisroel ben Yechezkel).

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Artwork: Eliminate, by Rovina Cai

The Induction of Metaphysical Trauma

This morning I read the following idea from Rav Soloveitchik about the uniquely Jewish phenomenon of aveilus yeshanah (mourning a past tragedy), as opposed to aveilus chadashah (mourning a present loss):

A Jew lives with a unique time consciousness. He experiences time not in the standard tripartite division of past, present, and future; rather, all three dimensions converge into a single integrated existence. This unique orientation toward time enables a Jew to pre-experience events of the distant future and to relive occurrences of the ostensibly dead past … A Jew has the unique capacity to relive past tragedies and to experience them anew as if the wounds were still fresh. As a result, the abiding sentiments of grief, the resulting sense of void, and the hopeless feelings of groping in the dark are felt just as powerfully when mourning for past events.

I am in the middle of reading The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma, by Bessel van der Kolk, M.D. One of the key characteristics of trauma is the reexperiencing of past events as though they are happening in the present. Van der Kolk writes: “Long after the actual event has passed, the brain may keep sending signals to the body to escape a threat that no longer exists.”

In this sense, aveilus yeshanah is metaphysical trauma. It is “trauma” in that it is a reexperiencing of a painful event from the remote past as though it were happening in the present. It is “metaphysical” in that its aim is the perfection of the soul, as opposed to psychological or neurological functions. This aim is reflected in the Rambam’s statement about the purpose of all national fast days in Hilchos Taaniyos 5:1:

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

This Rambam underscores a key point: the metaphysical trauma of aveilus yeshanah must be artificially induced. In aveilus chadashah, which is triggered by the death of a close relative, grief is a natural reaction which is then harnessed and directed within the framework of the laws of mourning. In aveilus yeshanah, the natural reaction of grief is no longer extant; the catastrophic events we mourn happened so long ago that they have faded from our national consciousness. Instead, the mourning customs and laws we observe during The Three Weeks, The Nine Days, and Tishah b’Av are designed to awaken, generate, and cultivate a sense of tragic loss. It is from those “abiding sentiments of grief, the resulting sense of void, and the hopeless feelings of groping in the dark” that the real work of national teshuvah can begin.

This is another feature which makes aveilus yeshanah a uniquely Jewish phenomenon. The world views trauma in an entirely negative light. Trauma is something to be avoided or gotten rid of at any cost. Who in their right mind would seek out trauma? Ironically, the answer is: one who seeks to be in their right mind. Only the Jew, who lives not for the body but for the soul, will artificially induce a painful state of trauma each year for the sake of teshuvah. Only the Jew sees teshuvah as essential for the life of mind.

[1] excerpted from the Reshimot of Rabbi Menachem Genack in the appendix of The Koren Mesorat HaRav Kinot

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

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

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

The Rav's Description of the Mesorah Experience

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The Rav's Description of the Mesorah Experience

I have gained a lot - directly, and even more so, indirectly - from the Torah of the Rav (Rabbi Yosef Dov ha'Levi Soloveitchik). But one of the most impactful things I have heard from the Rav is his description of the experience of Mesorah (the Oral Tradition), as recorded in a shiur he gave in 1974. This description epitomizes my own experience in learning, and the experience I strive to bring about in my classroom. 

The Rav makes reference to what I wrote about in my post, Neglecting the Thinkers of the Past. What I referred to as "The Great Conversation" (borrowing Adler's terminology), the Rav referred to as "The Great Dialogue" and "The Great Mesorah Community." But his description is far more poetic and impassioned than anything I could ever write.

I will now present a transcript of the Rav's remarks. For the best experience, I suggest following along in the transcript while listening to the recording of the Rav's actual shiur (class), courtesy of YU Torah.

As a matter of fact, I want to tell you, and please don't, don’t misinterpret my words, I am not trying to brag or to boast, very far from it, but whatever I have said now is not just an idea. To me it's an experience. Let me say that the secret of mispar ha'doros (lit. "the number of the generations"), of combining, uniting, merging many generations into one community, where discrepancy of age disappears, where years play no role, centuries have no significance. Where generations, I mean, can, so to say communicate, commune with each other, I do experience every time I enter the classroom at the yeshiva. And I've been a teacher for the last, how many years? (other people speaking) Oy vey, I'm that old.

           

Whenever I enter the classroom which is crowded with boys, who could be as far as age is concerned, my grandchildren. I enter the classroom as an old man, I am old- with a wrinkled face and eyes reflecting fatigue and the sadness of old age. You have to be old in order to experience that sadness. It's a very strange sadness; it's the melancholy of remembering things, things which disappear, they don't exist. When I enter a classroom I sit down, and opposite me are rows of boys, young boys with beaming eyes, beaming faces, clear eyes, radiating the joy of being young.

           

Always when I enter, you know I enter in a very pessimistic mood, I always enter the class in despair. And I ask myself, I mean, every time I enter the classroom- can there be a dialogue between an old teacher and young students? Between a rebbe in his Indian summer and boys enjoying the spring of their lives?

           

I start the shiur, I don't know what the conclusion will be. Whenever I start the shiur, the door opens, another old man walks in and sits down. He is older than I am. All the talmidim (students) call me the Rav. He is older than the Rav. He is the great, the grandfather of the Rav; his name is Reb Chaim Brisker. And without whom no shiur can be delivered nowadays. Then, the door opens quietly again and another old man comes in, he is older than Reb Chaim, he lived in the 17^th century. What’s his name? Shabsai Kohen - the famous Shach - who must be present when dinei mamonos (monetary laws) are being discussed; when we study Bava Metziah, Bava Kamah. And then, more visitors show up. Some lived, some of the visitors lived in the 11^th century, some in the 12^th century, some in the 13^th century, some lived in antiquity - Rebbe Akiva, Rashi, Rabbeinu Tam, the Ra'avad, the Rashba, more and more come in, come in, come in.  Of course, what do I do? I introduce them to my pupils and the dialogue commences. The Rambam says something, the Ra'avad disagrees; and sometimes he's very nasty. Very sharp, harsh language he uses against the Rambam. A boy jumps up to defend the Rambam against the Ra'avad, and the boy is fresh - you know how young boys are fresh - so the language he uses is improper, he uses improper language. So, I correct him. And another jumps up with a new idea; the Rashba smiles gently. I try to analyze what the young boy meant, another boy intervenes, we call upon the Rabbeinu Tam to express his opinion, and suddenly a symposium of generations comes into existence.

           

Generations! Young boys - 22, 23, 24 years of age- there are boys who are just 18 years old that are in my class. One generation. then my generation, then the generation of Reb Chaim Brisker, then the generation of the Shach, then the generation of the Rashba, the Ramban, the generation of the Rambam, the generation of Rashi, the generation of the Rabbeinu Tam, and then, I mean there is no end! What about the Rav Hai Gaon? What about Rebbe Akiva, Rebbe Elazar, Rav Yochanan ben Zakai? All generations somehow…         

We all speak one language, “v'thi kol ha'aretz safah achas u'd'varim achadim” ("and the entire leand was of one language and unified principles" - Bereishis 11:1). We all chat, we all laugh, we all enjoy the company, and we all pursue one goal; we all are committed to a common vision, and we all operate in the same categories. There is mesorah collegiality, friendship, comradeship between old and young, between antiquity middle-ages and modern times, “v'hu ha'keitz” ("and that is the end/limit").

This unity of generations, this march of centuries, this conversation of generations, this dialogue between antiquity and present will finally bring the redemption of the Jew.

           

Let me tell you that at the conclusion of three and sometimes four hours, I mean I have here a witness, I emerge young and elated, younger than my pupils. They are tired, exhausted, some of them yawn. I feel happy. I have, I have defeated age; I have defeated oldness. I emerge young, less fatigued, less exhausted than my young pupils.

We belong to the same Mesorah community, where generations meet. Where hands, no matter how wrinkled and parchment dry one hand is and how soft and wan the other hand is, shake, unite, and in a community where The Great Dialogue continues. When I was looking at the baby who was redeemed this evening, I don’t know whether he will be in my class, whether I will live to have him. But someone will sit and teach the baby, and the baby is already a member of the community, of The Great Mesorah Community. And I feel as if I, it is possible to establish communication with this baby.

Parashas Korach: Lessons in Hashgachah

Originally published in June, 2012. God willing, there will be a new dvar Torah for Parashas Korach on Friday.

Artwork: Yawning Vissure, by Veronique Meignaud

Parashas Korach: Lessons in Hashgachah

Preface

Many of my students seem to feel that they more or less know the particulars of how Hashem is involved in the lives of individuals. They feel comfortable making statements about how Hashem operates in their own lives, and in the lives of those who are close to them. I attribute this to the popular view of hashgachah pratis (individual providence), and I do my best to present to my "the classical view" of hashgachah pratis, as taught by the Rishonim.

Oftentimes, this provokes the opposite reaction. Students feel that they can't know anything about how Hashem operates. They feel completely in the dark about hashgachah pratis and conclude that they will never be able to understand anything about how Hashem relates to them. Consequently, they either feel that hashgachah pratis is not real, or that it is out of reach, or that it is arbitrary - for, in the darkness of ignorance, unknown lawfulness and pure arbitrariness are often indistinguishable. This reaction is also not good. 

I see only one solution to this problem: to show my students that we can gain some understanding (however minute) of hashgachah pratis by learning from the occurrences of hashgachah throughout Tanach. This is easier said than done, but I can testify that the more I learn about hashgachah, the more real it is to me.

In this post I hope to provide an example of that. Even if you disagree with what I write, I hope this post can provide an illustration of the derech of learning about hashgachah pratis from the dvar Hashem.

The Facts

In the midst of the Torah's account of the Korach rebellion we are confronted with a short but troubling exchange between Hashem and Moshe Rabbeinu:

Hashem spoke to Moshe and Aharon, saying, "Separate yourselves from amid this assembly (i.e. Bnei Yisrael), and I shall destroy them in an instant!" They fell on their faces and said, "O God, God of the spirits of all flesh, shall one man sin, and You be angry with the entire assembly?" (Bamidbar 16:20-22).

Apparently, their tefilah (prayer) did the trick. Immediately thereafter ...

Hashem spoke to Moshe saying, "Speak to the assembly, saying, 'Get yourselves up from all around the dwelling places of Korach, Dasan, and Aviram.'" So Moshe stood up and went to Dasan and Aviram, and the elders of Israel followed him. He spoke to the assembly, saying, "Turn away now from near the tents of these wicked men, and do not touch anything of theirs, lest you perish because of all their sins." So they got themselves up from near the dwelling of Korach, Dasan, and Aviram, from all around. Dasan and Aviram went out brazenly at the entrance of their tents, with their wives, children, and infants (ibid. 23-27).

We know what happens next. Moshe Rabbeinu announces that if Hashem creates a miraculous phenomenon, causing the earth to swallow up the evildoers, then it will be manifestly clear to everyone that"these men provoked Hashem," and that Moshe Rabbeinu is truly Hashem's emissary. Sure enough ...

When he finished speaking all these words, the ground that was under them split open. The earth opened its mouth and swallowed them and their households, and all the people who were with Korach, and the entire wealth. They and all that was theirs descended alive to the pit; the earth covered them over and they were lost from among the congregation (ibid. 31-33).

Korach and his followers are punished, Moshe Rabbeinu's authority is reinstated, and Bnei Yisrael are safe (for now, at least).

The Questions

The story of Korach’s rise and fall is so enthralling; it's easy to gloss over the fact that Hashem would have destroyed the entire Jewish nation were it not for Moshe’s tefilah! Not only does Hashem’s initial decree seem unjust, but as soon as Moshe points out the injustice, Hashem relents and changes His plans. 

In order to understand this sequence of events, we will ask and attempt to answer four questions:

1. What was the basis of Hashem's initial decree? Hashem is the Melech ha'Mishpat (King of Justice), and we maintain that kol derachav mishpat (all of His ways are just). What insight into mishpat Hashem are we lacking which would explain how it is in line with justice to wipe out an entire nation on account of a few evildoers?
   
2. How, exactly, did Moshe Rabbeinu's tefilah address Hashem's position? Moshe Rabbeinu's tefilah intuitively makes sense to us. However, this intuitive understanding must - of necessity - be incomplete. If we do not understand the basis of Hashem's decree, then we cannot possibly understand Moshe Rabbeinu's tefilah, since his tefilah was formulated specifically as a response to that decree.
   
3. What is the meaning of, "God of the spirits of all flesh" and why did Moshe choose to address Hashem in this manner? This is a very unusual way to address Hashem. What do these terms mean, and why does Moshe Rabbeinu choose to utilize this appellation in his tefilah?
   
4. What do we learn from this? Here we have an instance of mishpat Hashem, a tefilah of Moshe Rabbeinu, and a miraculous onesh (punishment). All of this provides us with a valuable opportunity to increase our knowledge of Hashem. What general principles can we derive from this incident? Moreover, what practical insights can we gain from this new understanding? How does this knowledge affect the way we live, or the way we view ourselves? 

Thankfully, Ralbag provides us with an enlightening interpretation of these pesukim which, if understood correctly, unlocks the answers to all of our questions.

Step #1: The Law of Collective Hashgachah

Ralbag begins by explaining the basis of Hashem's initial decree. Hashgachah pratis (individual providence), like hashgachah klalis (laws of nature), operates in accordance with a lawful system. The laws of nature are not arbitrary or capricious, and neither are the laws of hashgachah pratis. Even when Hashem intervenes in human affairs with a miracle, His intervention is governed by systematic principles - exactly like the laws of thermodynamics and the laws of motion. In other words, hashgachah pratis is not an exception to lawfulness, but an expression of lawfulness.

Ralbag explains one of these laws of hashgachah pratis as follows: if a unified group of people (e.g. a nation, a city, an army) merits a certain level of hashgachah pratis, then that hashgachah will relate to the entire group as a single entity. Consequently, if even one member of that group sins, then the entire group will lose its hashgachah pratis and will either be subject to hashgachic onesh (Divine punishment) or abandoned to the laws of nature, depending on the circumstances and the individuals involved. For the sake of brevity, we will refer to this phenomenon as "The Law of Collective Hashgachah."

To illustrate this concept, Ralbag uses the following mashal: a unified group of people can be compared to a single body, and a chotei (sinner) within that group can be compared to a diseased organ. That diseased organ will impair the function of the entire body, simply by virtue of the fact that they are all part of the same entity. So too, the cheit (sin) of a single individual is likened to an infection within the collective body of the group, and the hashgachah over the entire group will be affected by that one cheit.

Ralbag cites an example from Sefer Yehoshua. Yehoshua led an army of Bnei Yisrael to invade and conquer the city of Ai. Bnei Yisrael's army consisted of several thousand men. Much to Yehoshua's surprise, these thousands of men fled from before the inhabitants of Ai, who pursued them and began killing them off. That night, Yehoshua - perplexed at the apparent lack of hashgachic protection - entreated Hashem, saying: "Alas, Hashem-Elokim, why have You brought this entire people over the Yarden to deliver us into the hands of the Emori, to destroy us! Would that we had been content and dwelt beyond the Yarden!" (Yehoshua 7:7). Hashem responded:

Israel has sinned; they have also violated My covenant that I commanded them; they have also taken from the consecrated property; they have also stolen; they have also denied; they have also placed it in their vessels. The Children of Israel will not be able to stand before their enemies; they will turn the back of their necks to their enemies because they have become worthy of destruction. I will not continue to be with you if you do not destroy the transgressor from your midst (ibid. 7:11-12).

Hashem condemned Israel as a group, but concluded by acknowledging that there is only one transgressor who has made them all worthy of destruction. In strict accordance with the "Law of Collective Hashgachah," the entire army lost its hashgachic protection on account of the cheit of a single man. So too, at the incident of Korach, the entire congregation of Klal Yisrael became liable for destruction on account of Korach and his small group of followers.

This is the first step in answering our first question and understanding the basis of Hashem's decree. Although we haven't yet understood how the Law of Collective Hashgachah is in line with justice, we at least know that such a law exists. We have answered the "What?" question ("What was the basis of Hashem's decree?") but we still need to answer the "Why?" question ("Why does Hashem's hashgachah relate to the group as a whole?"). That question will be answered later. First, let's understand Moshe Rabbeinu's side of the story.

Step #2: Moshe Rabbeinu's Tefilah

Moshe Rabbeinu's tefilah was formulated as a response to the Law of Collective Hashgachah. He began by invoking Hashem as "God of the spirits of all flesh." Ralbag interprets this as follows:

You, Hashem, are the God Who has particular knowledge of each and every human being and extends His hashgachah pratis to every individual, based on his intellect, in accordance with that individual righteousness and wickedness. In light of this, how can You decree punishment upon the entire congregation when only a few of them sinned?

In effect, Moshe Rabbeinu appealed to Hashem to switch mishpat (justice) frameworks: instead of judging Klal Yisrael as a group - as a unified entity, subject to the Law of Collective Hashgachah - He should judge Klal Yisrael as individuals, based on the zechuyos (merits) and avonos (iniquities) of each and every person.

We see from Moshe Rabbeinu's tefilah that the "Law of Collective Hashgachah" is not the only framework for mishpat. There is also a "Law of Individual Hashgachah." We know from the Torah's accounts of tzadikim (e.g. Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov) that hashgachah pratis can and does relate to the individual, irrespective of his society.

However, this reveals one major insight into Divine justice: apparently, the "Law of Collective Hashgachah" is the default framework for mishpat. It is for this reason that Hashem decreed destruction upon the entire Jewish nation. Were it not for Moshe Rabbeinu's intercession to judge Klal Yisrael as individuals, Hashem would have judged them as a collective, because that is how the hashgachah operates.

We have answered the question of, "How, exactly, did Moshe Rabbeinu's tefilah address Hashem's position?" but we are now confronted with a more pressing question: "Why does the Law of Collective Hashgachah take precedence over the Law of Individual Hashgachah? What accounts for the fact that it is the default framework for mishpat?" Although we have begun to build a case for Hashem's mishpat (as it were), it is still difficult to see His decrees as justice. In order to do this, we must take one more step.

Step #3: Hashem's Response

This is where things begin to get interesting. Hashem accepted Moshe's tefilah and didn't wipe out all of Klal Yisrael. However, He didn't "simply" punish Korach and his followers, as it might seem at first glance. Instead, He instructed Moshe to tell Bnei Yisrael to remove themselves from the vicinity of the reshaim (evildoers) and to be careful not to touch any of their belongings, lest they be destroyed. Only then did He cause the earth to open and swallow up Korach and his followers.

This is problematic for at least two reasons. First of all, why were the non-sinning members of Bnei Yisrael required to distance themselves from the reshaim? One might be tempted to respond, "This was a practical measure to ensure that none of the innocent members of Klal Yisrael were destroyed along with the reshaim." This answer is difficult. We know that Hashem is fully capable of "targeted onesh." This was demonstrated in Mitzrayim, when many of the makkos afflicted only the Egyptians and not the Jews. The greatest instance of targeted onesh was makkas bechoros, in which Hashem struck down every individual firstborn, but spared all others. That being said, why did Hashem command Bnei Yisrael to move away from the reshaim? Why didn't He simply "zap" Korach and his followers on the spot?

Secondly, why did the non-sinning members of Bnei Yisrael have to be warned, "do not touch anything of theirs, lest you perish because of all their sins"? Didn't Moshe Rabbeinu's tefilah succeed in achieving a shift in mishpat frameworks from Collective Mishpat to Individual Mishpat? One would think that the decree of destruction upon the non-sinners was revoked - yet, if that's the case, then why are they still in danger of "perishing" on account of the sins of Korach and his followers? And why is this threat of perishing contingent on touching the belongings of the reshaim? It is difficult to understand how a person can be liable for death simply for touching the possessions of a sinner.

Ralbag gives a very interesting answer. He explains that Hashem could not carry out Moshe's request to judge Bnei Yisrael as individuals unless they severed their identity as part of the group. In order to do this, they needed to physically separate themselves from the group, and to cut off any remaining connection with the members of that group. Even to retain possession of a material object belonging to the group would be to preserve one's identification with the group. So long as that identification is maintained, Hashem cannot judge that person as an individual, and his or her fate would be bound to the fate of the group.

This explanation answers the last two questions we raised, but it presents us with an even bigger problem, which will be the final - and key - question in our investigation: Why didn't Hashem simply judge the members of Bnei Yisrael as individuals in their present state? Why was it necessary for them to break their connection with the group?

In answering this question, we will gain a fundamental insight not only into hashgachah pratis and mishpat Hashem, but into how we live our daily lives.

Step #4: Insight into Hashgachas Hashem

The answer to our last question can be found in a principle set forth by the Rambam in Hilchos Deos 6:1:

Man, by nature, is influenced in his character traits and his actions by his friends and colleagues, and behaves in the manner of the members of his society. Therefore, it is incumbent on man to befriend tzadikim (men of justice) and to continually sit near chachamim (wise men) so that he will learn from their actions, and he should distance himself from reshaim (men of injustice) who walk in darkness so that he will not learn from their actions. This is what Shlomo says: "One who walks with the wise will become wise, but one who befriends ksilim (fools) will be broken" (Mishlei 13:20); and [David] says: "Fortunate is the man [who has not walked in the counsel of the wicked, nor has stood in the path of sinners, nor sat in the seat of the scornful]" (Tehilim 1:1). 

According to this halacha in the Rambam, most people - by nature - are products of their society. If you dwell among tzadikim and chachamim, your character traits and actions will be influenced by them; you will learn from them and become like them. The reverse is also true: if you dwell among reshaim and ksilim, your character traits and actions will be influenced by them, and you will learn from them and become like them.

This law of human nature is so overwhelmingly powerful that the Rambam prescribes a seemingly austere command in the very next paragraph:

Likewise, if a person finds himself in a society whose behavior is bad and whose members do not walk on the upright path, he should move to a location whose members are tzadikim and who conduct themselves on the path of the good. And if all of the societies he knows and has heard about conduct themselves in a path which is not good (as is the case in the present time) or he is unable to go to a society whose conduct is good - on account of the bands of thieves or for health reasons - he should dwell alone and in seclusion, as it is stated, "Let him sit alone and be silent" (Eichah 3:28). And if [the members of all societies] are bad people and sinners, who do not allow him to live in the society unless he mingles with them and participates in their bad behaviors, then he should go out to caves, thickets, and deserts rather than behave in the manner of sinners, as it is stated, "Who will give me a lodging place for wayfarers in the desert" (Yirmiyahu 9:1). 

Leaving aside the question of how this halacha ought to be implemented in practice, one thing is clear: the Torah has a grim outlook on the ability of an individual to rise above his or her society. To put it bluntly: the average human being does not, by default, exist as an individual, but only as a member of the group. 

I am not going to explain what I mean by that. Instead, I will clarify what I mean by quoting a beautiful and profound excerpt from Halakhic Man, by R' Yosef Dov Soloveitchik in which he explains the basis and implications of the Rambam's view of hashgachah pratis; I've underlined certain parts for emphasis:

The gist of Maimonides' view is that man occupies a unique position in the kingdom of existence and differs in his ontological nature from all other creatures. With reference to all other creatures, only the universal, not the particular, has a true, continuous existence; with respect to man, however, it is an everlasting principle that his individual existence also attains the heights of true, eternal being. Indeed, the primary mode of man's existence is the particular existence of the individual, who is both liable and responsible for his acts. Therefore, it is the individual who is worthy of divine providence and eternal life. Man, in one respect, is a mere random example of the biological species - species man - an image of the universal, a shadow of true existence. In another respect he is a man of God, possessor of an individual existence. The difference between a man who is a mere random example of the biological species and a man of God is that the former is characterized by passivity, the latter by activity and creation. The man who belongs solely to the realm of the universal is passive to an extreme - he creates nothing. The man who has a particular existence of his own is not merely a passive, receptive creature but acts and creates. Action and creation are the true distinguishing marks of authentic existence. 

However, this ontological privilege, which is the peculiar possession of the man who has a particular existence of his own, a privilege that distinguishes him from all other creatures and endows him with individual immortality, is dependent upon man himself. The choice is his. He may, like the individual of all the other species, exist in the realm of the images and shadows, or he may exist as an individual who is not part of the universal and who proves worthy of a fixed, established existence in the world of the "forms" and "intellects separate from matter" [Maimonides, Laws of the Foundations of the Torah 4:9]. Species man or man of God, this is the alternative which the the Almighty placed before man. If he proves worthy, then he becomes a man of God in all the splendor of his individual existence that cleaves to absolute infinity and the glorious "divine overflow." If he proves unworthy, then he ends up as one more random example of the biological species, a turbid and blurred image of universal existence ...

Man, at times, exists solely by virtue of the species, by virtue of the fact that he was born a member of that species, and its general form is engraved upon him. He exists solely on account of his participation in the idea of the universal. He is just a member of the species "man," an image of the universal. He is just one more example of the species image in its ongoing morphological process (in the Aristotelian sense of the term). He himself, however, has never done anything that could serve to legitimate his existence as an individual. His soul, his spirit, his entire being, are all grounded in the realm of the universal. His roots lie deep in the soil of faceless mediocrity; his growth takes place solely within the public domain. He has no stature of his own, no original, individual, personal profile. He has never created anything, never brought into being anything new, never accomplished anything. He is receptive, passive, a spiritual parasite. He is wholly under the influence of other people and their views. Never has he sought to render an accounting, either of himself or of the world; never has he examined himself, his relationship to God and his fellow man. He lives unnoticed and he dies unmourned. Like a fleeting cloud, a shadow, he passes through life, and he is gone. He bequeaths nothing to future generations, but dies without leaving a trace of his having lived. Empty-handed he goes to the grave, bereft of mitzvah performances, good deeds, and meritorious acts, for while living he lacked any sense of historical responsibility and was totally wanting in any ethical passion. He was born involuntarily, and it is for this reason and this reason alone that he, involuntarily, lives out his life (a life which, paradoxically, he has "chosen!") until he dies involuntarily. This is man as the random example of the biological species. 

But there is another man, one who does not require the assistance of others, who does not need the support of the species to legitimate his existence. Such a man is no longer a prisoner of time but is his own master. He exists not by virtue of the species, but solely on account of his own individual worth. His life is replete with creation and renewal, cognition and profound understanding. He lives not on account of his having been born but for the sake of life itself and so that he may merit thereby the life in the world to come. He recognizes the destiny that is his, his obligation and task in life. He understands full well the dualism running through his being and that choice which has been entrusted to him. He knows that there are two paths before him and that whichever he shall choose, there must he go. He is not passive but active. His personality is not characterized by receptivity but by spontaneity. He does not simply abandon himself to the rule of the species but blazes his own individual trail. Moreover, he, as an individual, influences the many. His whole existence, like some enchanted stream, rushes ever onward to distant magical regions. He is dynamic, not static, does not remain at rest but moves forward in an ever-ascending climb. For, indeed, it is the living God for whom he pines and longs. This is the man of God. 

The fundamental of providence is here transformed into a concrete commandment, an obligation incumbent upon man. Man is obliged to broaden the scope and strengthen the intensity of the individual providence that watches over him. Everything is dependent on him; it is all in his hands. When a person creates himself, ceases to be a mere species man, and becomes a man of God, then he has fulfilled that commandment which is implicit in the principle of providence.

The Rav said it all, and I have nothing to add.

Now we can understand Hashem's response to Moshe's tefilah on a deeper level. Hashem's commandment to Bnei Yisrael to physically move away from Korach and his followers was not merely a practical way to distance them from the disaster zone, nor was it only a means of breaking their identification with the sinners. Rather, Hashem was giving each member of Bnei Yisrael an opportunity to actualize himself as an individual, thereby enabling the hashgachah to relate to him.

Since, as the Rav said, "it is the individual who is worthy of divine providence," and since Bnei Yisrael were, at the time, a single group whose identity had been tainted by its sinful faction, the only way the non-sinning members would be saved through hashgachah pratis is if they used their bechirah (free will) and chose to act as individuals. This is why Hashem couldn't judge Bnei Yisrael as individuals in their present state: they did not exist as individuals in their present state. The only way to judge them as individuals was to enable them to actualize themselves as individuals, which is exactly what He did.

Concluding Summary

Now the dialogue between Hashem and Moshe makes perfect sense. To summarize:

• Man, by nature, is a component and a product of his society. This is why Hashem's default mode of mishpat is the Law of Collective Hashgachah.
• Therefore, when a significant number or significant members of a society sin, the hashgachic status of the entire group is affected. For this reason, Hashem decreed destruction upon the entire nation in response to the sin of Korach and his followers.
• Moshe Rabbeinu appealed to Hashem, asking Him to judge Klal Yisrael as individuals, not as members of the group.
• Hashem responded by saying that He could only judge Klal Yisrael as individuals if they actually became individuals.
• In His mercy, He facilitated this by commanding every member of Klal Yisrael to make an individual decision whether to remain associated with Korach's group or to redefine themselves as separate from that camp. This process of separation was completed by physically distancing themselves from the camp and not maintaining any connection - even by holding on to their property.
• Bnei Yisrael seized this opportunity, and were saved from Hashem's wrath.

In addition to having gained a valuable insight into what it means to live as a human being, I hope this post has shown that there is a way to gain insight into the ways of hashgachas Hashem, even if that insight is small.