Haftaras Parashas Pinchas: Goyishe Jews

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Haftaras Parashas Pinchas: Goyishe Jews

Preface: I wasn't in the mood to write a dvar Torah article for this Friday. I almost didn't write anything at all, but I told myself, "I'll just start writing and see if I end up with anything good." Well, I ended up with something, but it ain't a dvar Torah! I don't even know if there are any "ideas" per se, other than some insight into prophetic rhetoric. Also, this was definitely influenced by a discussion I had with my students over the course of this week about Jewish racism. Anyway, think of this as more of an editorial or a rant inspired by the haftarah than an actual dvar Torah. 

I didn’t encounter Jewish racism against non-Jews until I moved to the East Coast. That was the first time I heard derogatory statements made about “goyim” (to be pronounced not as “goh-YEEM,” but “GUH-yim,” as if one is spitting out a word with a bitter taste). Sometimes this racism is expressed as generic xenophobia. Other times it takes the form of specific racial stereotyping. Sometimes it’s muttered in undertones. Other times it’s expressed unabashedly, or even proudly. I am often tempted to respond to these comments by saying, “Hey, buddy, my grandma is a goy!” or “You do know that I used to be a goy, right?” On one occasion I might or might not have responded with an antisemitic slur against the offender.

As disgusting as I find this anti-gentile bigotry to be, I do think there’s a place for it: when rebuking Jews.

The haftarah for Parashas Pinchas is the opening chapter of Sefer Yirmiyahu, whose prophetic career begins with the following call-to-action from Hashem: “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you left the womb, I sanctified you. I have appointed you as a navi la’goyim (prophet for the nations)” (1:5). The problem is that Yirmiyahu did not act as a prophet for the goyim, but only for Israel.

The simplest answer is to read “la’goyim” not as “for the nations” but as “regarding the nations.” Shadal (among others) explains: “navi la'goyim [means] for Israel and the nations – not that he will go and speak to the nations, but rather, in speaking to Israel, he will mention what will befall some of the nations.”

Rashi, however, takes a different approach:

navi la'goyim [means] to the Jews, who act like goyim. This is expounded in Sifrei: "‘A prophet from your midst ... I will raise up for you" (Devarim 18:15) – not for those who deny Torah. How, then, do I understand 'I will designate you as a prophet for the goyim'? This refers to the Jews who act like goyim.”

Yirmiyahu wasn’t the only navi to rebuke his brethren for acting like non-Jews. In one of the first prophecies about Churban Bayis Rishon, Yeshayahu says, “Hear the word of Hashem, O chiefs of Sedom; give ear to the Torah of our God, O people of Amorah” (Yeshayahu 1:10), comparing the Jewish residents of Jerusalem to the non-Jewish citizens of the two most notoriously evil cities on record. He then goes on to relay Hashem’s rejection of their divine service on account of their grievous interpersonal injustices:

[Hashem says:] I hate your Roshei Chodashim and your Moadim with My Being; they have become a bother to Me; I am weary of bearing [them]. When you spread your hands [in prayer], I will hide My eyes from you; even when you increase prayer, I will not listen; your hands are filled with blood. Wash yourselves, purify yourselves, remove the evil of your deeds from before My eyes; cease doing evil. Learn to do good, seek justice, vindicate the victim, render justice to the orphan; take up the grievance of the widow. (1:14-17)

Imagine if someone tried to pull a Yeshayahu move like this in a modern setting: a shul rav gets up in front of his frum congregation to give his Shabbos dvar Torah and says: “You’re all a bunch of GUHyim. Hashem hates your Shabbosos. Your Yomim Tovim disgust Him. Why do you even bother davening? He won’t listen to you. You’re like Hamas. You’re worse than Putin’s henchmen. You’re no better than the Nazis.”

“But wouldn’t this approach to rebuke perpetuate the same anti-gentile prejudices you condemn?” Yes, unfortunately, it would. But it’s a step in the right direction. If every instance of anti-goyim bigotry were met with an equal but opposite rebuke for “goyishe behavior” on the part of the offender, maybe they would think twice before speaking. Of course, I don’t really believe this would work. But it’s a nice fantasy.

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Haftarah of Mattos / Masei: Divine Love as the Foundation of Rebuke

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Haftarah of Mattos / Masei: Divine Love as the Foundation of Rebuke

Sefer Yirmiyahu is filled with messages of rebuke, catastrophe, and tragedy. Yet, the very first prophecy Yirmiyahu is sent to deliver has a markedly different character from the rest of the book:

Go and call out in the ears of Yerushalayim, saying: “Thus said Hashem: I recalled for you the kindness of your youth, the love of your wedding [ceremony], your following after Me in the Wilderness, into an unsown land. Israel is holy to Hashem, the first of His crop; all who consume it will be held guilty; harm shall befall them - the word of Hashem” (Yirmiyahu 2:2-3).

Rav Hirsch (Commentary on Haftaroth) notes this thematic discrepancy:

The first Word which the young prophet has to bring to his people in the name of God, as the beginning of his mission, is no stern rebuke, no prophecy of the impending disaster, but a message of love, of encouragement, a Word that looks beyond all the precipices, pierces through all the dark clouds of the gloomy fate, to the bright outlook on the ultimate sun-bathed goal of the undying People at the zenith of their destiny intimately united with their God. No more intimate or more glorious Word has ever flowed from the lips of any prophet. A Word which embraces the most distant past with the most distant future, and thereby demonstrates the wonderful continuity of the Thought of God which comes to be developed in Jewish history.

Why does Yirmiyahu preface his prophecies of rebuke with this message of love? I would like to suggest an answer based on the words of the Rambam (Moreh ha’Nevuchim 3:28) and a quotation cited by Bessel van der Kolk, M.D. in The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma (2015).

The Rambam maintains that the doctrines taught by the Torah fall into two categories. The first is “beliefs through which the ultimate perfection may be attained,” including “the belief in Hashem’s Existence (exalted is He), His Oneness, His Omniscience, His Omnipotence, His Will, and His Eternality.” The second category is comprised of “beliefs which are necessary for the sake of societal welfare, such as our belief that He (may He be exalted) is violently angry with those who disobey Him and that it is therefore necessary to fear Him and to dread Him and to take care not to disobey.” The belief in Hashem’s enduring love for the Jewish people belongs to this second category, since Hashem has no actual emotions and “love” is only ascribed to Him by way of metaphor.  

Van der Kolk begins the section of his book “on the minds of children” with the words of Diana Fosha, PhD, known for her work on the psychotherapy of adults suffering the effects of childhood attachment trauma and abuse: “The roots of resilience ... are to be found in the sense of being understood by and existing in the mind and heart of a loving, attuned, and self-possessed other.”

Perhaps Yirmiyahu opened his rebuke with a message of Divine love for this reason. He knew that in order for the Jews to endure their impending destruction and exile with the type of resilience that leads to teshuvah, they needed to feel seen and loved by Hashem. It is known that a baal teshuvah is “cherished and beloved” by Hashem (Hilchos Teshuvah 7:6), but that knowledge is not enough for the sinner. The sinner must also know that “the one whom Hashem loves, He rebukes” (Mishlei 3:12) – that the rebuke, itself, is from love, and reflects a confidence in the intrinsic worth of the sinner, despite their sins.

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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. 

Parashas Mattos/Masei: Who is to Blame?

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Artwork: Memorial to Folly, by Sung Choi

Parashas Mattos/Masei: Who is to Blame?

This week we conclude our reading of Sefer Bamidbar. I taught Sefer Bamidbar for seven years, and there is one sentiment I encountered among my high school students every time: anger at Bnei Yisrael. Whenever we’d learn an episode of Bamidbar in which Bnei Yisrael sinned and were punished, my students would grow frustrated and exclaim: “How could Bnei Yisrael be so stupid?!” “They’re so childish and immature!” “Why do we have to suffer for their sins?” 

As tempting as it is to place the blame entirely on Bnei Yisrael for their sins, that is not the approach that Moshe Rabbeinu takes in our parashah, nor is it the approach that Yirmiyahu takes in our haftarah. 

Parashas Mattos begins with Hashem commanding Bnei Yisrael to wage war with the Midianites. The Jewish men lead the battle, killing the Midianite kings and male soldiers, and taking the women, children, livestock, and wealth as spoils. 

Moshe becomes enraged. [1] However, his anger is not directed at the soldiers who engaged in the looting, but at the commanding officers who were appointed over them. Rashi, [2] citing Sifre, [3] explains why: 

and Moshe became enraged at the appointed of the soldiers – [namely,] those who were appointed over the soldiers; [the pasuk says this] in order to teach you that every deterioration of the generation is contingent on the gedolim (leaders), since they have the ability to protest. 

The Rambam codifies this principle in two places in the Mishneh Torah. The first is in Hilchos Deos,[4] in his exposition of the mitzvah of hocheach tochiach (“you shall surely rebuke a member of your people”): 

One who sees his friend who sinning or following a path that is not good is commanded to return him to the good, and to inform him that he is sinning against himself with his bad decisions, as it is stated: "You shall surely rebuke [the member of] your people" (Vayikra 19:17) … and one who has the ability to rebuke but refrains from rebuking is included in the sin of those [sinners], so long as he had the ability to rebuke them. 

The second instance is in Hilchos Teshuvah, [5] in his list of sins which impede teshuvah: 

There are four sins which are so severe that if a person does one of them, Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu will not provide him with the ability to do teshuvah, due to the magnitude of the sin. They are:  

1. one who causes the masses to sin; included in this is one who prevents the masses from doing a mitzvah  

2. one who turns his friend from a good path to a bad path, such as a meisis (one who leads a person to worship avodah zarah) or a mediach (one who leads a city to worship avodah zarah)  

3. one who sees his son with a bad crowd and doesn’t protest: since his son is under his dominion, then he is like a person who causes him to sin; included in this is anyone who has the ability to protest against others – whether a multitude or a few individuals – and doesn’t protest, but leaves them with their stumbling block  

4. one who says, “I will sin and then I will do teshuvah”; included in this is one who says, “I will sin and Yom ha’Kippurim will atone.” 

This does not mean that such sins are entirely the fault of the leaders, and that the sinners themselves are free from blame. The foundational principle of Torah is that that every human being has free will, and is the cause of his or her own actions. At the same time, the Torah recognizes that leaders hold a great sway over the parameters of their followers’ free will. Thus, if a leader fails to use his position of influence to save or prevent his followers from sinning, then he is considered to be partially at fault, and shares in the culpability of the sinners. 

For example, every Nazi in Hitler’s Germany had free will, and could have chosen not to align himself with the forces of evil. Yet, it is clear that a Nazi soldier raised by a Nazi family, educated in a Nazi school, and surrounded by Nazi ideas, Nazi patriotism, and Nazi ascendancy – such an individual has far more impediments to exercising his free will for the good than his American counterpart among the Allies. There are many paths of choosing the good which are clear and unobstructed for the American, but blocked or obscured in darkness for the Nazi. However, if Hitler and the upper echelon of Nazi leaders radically changed their view of their “enemies” – just as Japan and its citizens changed their view of Americans after World War II – then it would be far easier for the individual Nazi to exercise his free will and choose good over evil. Freedom of choice is universal, but it is not equal in mankind, nor does it exist in a vacuum. It is a tenuous thing, subject to external disturbances – like a flickering candle on a blustery night, in need of protective hands to shield it and prevent it from being extinguished. 

Yirmiyahu follows Moshe’s approach in his rebuke of Bnei Yisrael, but is even more explicit in ascribing blame to the leaders of the nation. He begins with a general message to the nation: 

Hear the word of Hashem, O House of Jacob, and all families of the House of Israel: Thus said Hashem: "What wrong did your fathers find in Me that they distanced themselves from Me, and they went after nothingness and they became nothingness? And they did not say, ‘Where is Hashem Who brought us up from the Land of Egypt, Who led us in the Wilderness, in a land of desert and pit, in a land of waste and the shadow of death, in a land through which no man passed and no person settled there?’ I brought you to a fruitful land to eat its fruit and its goodness; but you came and you contaminated My land, and My inheritance you made into an abomination.” (Yirmiyahu 2:4-7) 

But then he turns his rebuke to the leaders, specifying how each group of leaders is culpable: 

“The Kohanim didn’t say, ‘Where is Hashem?’ and those who grasp the Torah (tofsei ha’Torah) didn’t know Me, and the shepherds rebelled against Me, and the [false] prophets prophesied by the Baal, and went after that which has no benefit. Therefore, I will continue to quarrel with you,” the word of Hashem, "and with your grandchildren I will quarrel." (ibid 2:8-9) 

The Radak [6] explains how each of these groups was at fault for the sins of the nation: 

the kohanim [didn’t say,] “Where is Hashem?” – we have explained this [as follows:] the Kohanim who are before Hashem (i.e. in the Beis ha’Mikdash) all day, bringing sacrifices before Him, should have said to the nation that worships Baal, “Where is Hashem, such that you worship someone other than Him?” 

those who grasp the Torah – these are the wise men who learn Torah; they “did not know Me” in that they didn’t learn Torah for its own sake, to fulfill what is written in it, but learned only with their mouths and a divided heart; this is what it means by “they did not know Me,” because good thought with good actions is [real] “knowledge [of God]” – not [mere] learning.

the shepherds – these are the kings who shepherd the nation, just like shepherds shepherd sheep.

and the prophets – these are the false prophets. 

If these religious and political leaders had stepped up to the plate, they could have halted the downward spiral of Bnei Yisrael, thereby preventing the destruction of the Beis ha’Mikdash (Holy Temple) and the galus (exile), or at least diminishing the severity of the catastrophe and suffering.[7] The people of the nation, themselves, are – as the navi said – like a flock of sheep. Each sheep has its own agency, but that agency is contingent on the decisions of the shepherd. If the shepherd leads his sheep to lush meadows, they will freely roam and graze; if he leads them within proximity of the wolves, they will have little choice but to flee for survival. 

I believe that this perspective on the sins of our ancestors has a bearing on the way we view the faults in our fellow Jews today. The Jewish world is split into so many different factions, religiously, politically, culturally, racially, socio-economically. Each faction has its own problems, errors, and transgressions. Some of these flaws are recognized by all; others fester, unnoticed. 

It would be easy to blame each of these groups of Jews for their own problems, but it would also be wrong. The bulk of the blame lies with the leaders – those in the remote past, the recent past, and the present. It is the leaders who have the power to protest and to put a stop to the problems which plague their people. It is the leaders who can articulate a vision of the good and formulate a plan to bring it about in action. The blame lies with them. 

But here’s the catch: by “leaders” I’m not just referring to those at the top of their respective spheres of influence; I’m talking about “anyone who has the ability to protest against others – whether a multitude or a few individuals – and doesn’t protest, but leaves them with their stumbling block.” By this definition, “leaders” include kings and fathers, roshei yeshiva and school-teachers, statesmen and neighbors, elders and older brothers, those who are respected for their wealth or for their wisdom. And yes, “leaders” include ourselves. 

Today is Rosh Chodesh Av. Nine days from now we will observe Tishah b’Av, one of the public fast days. These days have a common mission, as the Rambam articulates in Hilchos Taaniyos: [8] 

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. 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 things we will return to do good, as it stated, “they will confess their sins and the sins of their fathers” (Vayikra 26:40). 

Our national teshuvah has to start somewhere, but it is hard to begin if we don’t know where or with whom to place the blame. It is, after all, human nature to assign blame whenever something goes wrong. 

According to the implications of what we’ve written about today, the blame lies with ourselves, to the extent that each of us is a leader with a sphere of influence, however large or small that sphere may be. 

Perhaps, by recognizing the interconnectivity of Klal Yisrael, and by appreciating the weight of the power we have to shape the paths of the people within our daled amos (four cubits), we will, as a nation, begin anew the long process of returning to the good. 

[1] It’s unclear from the pesukim why Moshe got angry; see Ramban on Bamidbar 31:6 for an explanation. 

[2] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 31:14 

[3] Sifre 42 

[4] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Deos 6:7 

[5] ibid. Hilchos Teshuvah 4:1 

[6] Rabbeinu David Kimchi (Radak), Commentary on Sefer Yirmiyahu 2:8 

[7] Truthfully, according to my understanding, by the time Yirmiyahu’s prophetic career began, Bnei Yisrael had reached the point of no return. If they responded positively to his message and did teshuvah, the Beis ha’Mikdash would still be destroyed, and the exile still would have happened, but it wouldn’t have been as severe. 

[8] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer Zmanim, Hilchos Taaniyos 5:1

Am I Qualified to Write this Blog?

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

Artwork: Reckless Scholar, by Steve Prescott

Am I Qualified to Write this Blog?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Addendum

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

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

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

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

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

Walk-through of Mishlei 15:5

I thought it might be a good idea to follow up yesterday's How to Learn Mishlei: a Step by Step Guide post with an example of the method in action. I was going to write up a new blog post when I remembered that I wrote a walk-through of a Mishlei pasuk back in 2012. I reread it, concluded that it has withstood the test of time, and decided to edit it for re-posting today. Enjoy!

Artwork: Despise, by Todd Lockwood

Walk-through of Mishlei 15:5

Introduction

This post is intended as a sample analysis of an "average" pasuk in Mishlei, using the five-step method outlined in How to Learn Mishlei: a Step by Step Guide. I say "average" because in truth, there is no average pasuk in Mishlei. Each pasuk is a little, unique, self-contained world of insight. I hope that this post succeeds in giving you a sample of that flavor. 

Without further ado, let us commence with the first phase!

Phase #1: Reading and Translation

Here is the text of our pasuk:

משלי טו:ה

אֱוִיל יִנְאַץ מוּסַר אָבִיו וְשֹׁמֵר תּוֹכַחַת יַעְרִם:

I'll begin by translating the unequivocal terms into English, but I'll leave the ambiguous phrases as transliterations for now. Here is the first attempt at translation:

An eveel will despise the discipline of his father, but a shomer-rebuke will gain ormah.

If I had to settle on a working translation at this point, it would probably look something like this:

A fool will despise the discipline of his father, but one who guards rebuke will become cunning.

But we must remember that this is only a working translation. It is important to remain flexible as we proceed through our analysis, and constantly revisit the original Hebrew to modify our translation. 

Now that we've read and translated our pasuk, it's time for the real analysis to begin!

Phase #2: Questions 

For the sake of thoroughness, I am going to spell out all of the questions in as much detail as I can. In addition to formulating the questions concisely (in bold), I will elaborate on all of them and try to explain the import of each one. As I see it, there are seven major questions: 

1. What is an "eveel"? Shlomo ha'Melech is the taxonomist of fools par excellence. His book features a whole cast of fool-characters, each plagued by a different type of foolishness: eveel, pesi, leitz, ksil, boor, chasar leiv, naar, atzel etc. Sometimes these terms are used in a technical sense with a specific definition; other times they are used generically and interchangeably. Sometimes the definition can (and should) be derived from the specific context; other times it must be derived from elsewhere in Mishlei. Sometimes it is absolutely necessary to know the definition of the fool in order to understand the main idea of the pasuk; other times, the fool is just being used to highlight one of his specific features (e.g. a particular habit he has, or an action he does, or an emotion he experiences), and it is not necessary to understand his nature in order to get the main idea of the pasuk. As you can see, there are no rules for how to approach this type of question. Follow your intuition, and hone it over time.
   
2. Why does the pasuk focus on the eveel's rejection of mussar av (his father's discipline), specifically? The second half of the pasuk seems to be talking about all rebuke, not just rebuke from one's father. If so, why does the first half of the pasuk zero in on rebuke from such a specific source?
   
3. What is the meaning of "shomer tochachah"? The word "shomer" means "to guard," "to keep," and "to watch over." It is an unusual term to use in relation to rebuke. One would expect the pasuk to say something like, "one who listens to rebuke" or "one who accepts rebuke." 
   
4. What is ormah? Just as Shlomo ha'Melech classifies fools, each according to their particular type of foolishness, he also classifies chachamim (wise people) according to their intellectual virtues. There are as many words for chachamim in Mishlei as there are for fools: chacham, navon, meivin, ish tevunos, yashar, arum, ish mezimos, etc. The "sometimes" and "other times" guidelines stated above (in Question #1) apply to these terms as well. In our pasuk, however, it seems that the meaning of ormah is central to the main idea, and we will need to precisely define what it means.
   
5. How does being a shomer-tochachah cause a person to gain ormah? Our pasuk posits a cause-and-effect relationship: if a person is a shomer-tochachah, he will gain ormah. How does this work? For example, let's say you rebuke me for being a reckless driver or for waiting until the last minute to study for tests. I can see how I would benefit from such a rebuke, but that benefit would be in terms of avoiding traffic accidents and bad grades - not in terms of "gaining ormah," which seems to be a much broader quality.
   
6. How is a shomer-tochachah the opposite of an eveel who rejects his father's discipline? This brings us to a huge methodology principle in Mishlei. The vast majority of Mishlei pesukim are to be viewed as a contrast in opposites; the content of the first half of the pasuk will, in some sense, be the opposite of the content of the second half. Sometimes it is obvious how the two halves are opposites, but in other cases, it seems that the two halves are slightly "off." In some cases, the first half seems to have absolutely nothing to do with the second half. When this happens, our goal is to figure out how to understand the pasuk such that we can grasp the oppositional symmetry. In our case, we can assume that the shomer-tochachah who gains ormah is the opposite of the eveel who rejects his father's discipline. The question is: How?
   
7. What is the subject of the pasuk? Every pasuk is about a specific subject, and unless you can identify that subject, you will not fully understand the pasuk. In this case, it is clear that the subject has something to do with rebuke, but it is unclear whether the subject is more specific than that. (Oftentimes the subject of the pasuk will emerge from thinking about how the two halves of the pasuk are opposites, but it's still a good idea to ask this question separately.) 

There is an eighth question that some people might wonder about: What is the difference between tochachah and mussar? I won't say that this is a bad question per se, but it's not the type of question I concern myself with. Almost all meforshim disregard such questions. The only exception is the Malbim, whose entire derech hinges on such subtleties of the pasuk's language. The other meforshim have no trouble with the notion that Shlomo ha'Melech employed synonyms, since that's the way normal people talk (a la dibrah Torah ki'lshon bnei adam - "the Torah speaks in the language of man"). For this reason, I don't treat questions like this as "major questions," nor do I assume that the main idea will emerge from scrutinizing such subtleties. Instead, I keep these types of questions in the back of my mind while I learn the pasuk. If they trigger my intuition, so be it. If not, no problem. If, after arriving at the main idea, I can see an added dimension reflected in the subtlety of the lashon, then that's great. If I can't, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. 

[At this point in the original blog post I wrote a blurb about Mishlei methodology. I wish I had remembered this blurb when writing yesterday's post, since yesterday's post covered much of the same material. In order to spare the regular readers of my blog from redundancy, I took this part out. If you're interested in reading it, I've included it as an addendum at the end of this post.]

Phase #3: Thinking

Much of this step is intuitive, which makes it hard to capture in writing. I will do my best to share the steps I took in my analysis of this pasuk to arrive at the main idea.

Three out of the seven questions we raised are "definition questions" (#1, #3, and #4), and since it is impossible to understand what the pasuk is saying until we understand what it is talking about, it seems like these questions are the logical place to start. 

I knew that out of all of Mishlei's terms for fools, "eveel" (lit. "fool") is the most generic. I sensed that for our purposes we wouldn't need to define the nature of the eveel. All we would need to know about the eveel is that he despises all discipline - a fact which is clear from many pesukim in Mishlei. For example: "Fear of Hashem is the beginning of knowledge, but eveelim scorn wisdom and discipline" (1:7) and "The way of the eveel is upright in his own eyes, but one who listens to counsel is wise" (12:15). Notice how this strengthens our Question #2. Considering the fact that the eveel, by definition, despises all discipline, then why does the pasuk specifically refer to his rejection of his father's discipline? 

The next step was to define "ormah" (lit. "cunning" or "cleverness") which I had done previously in my Mishlei learning. My working definition of "ormah" means knowledge and awareness of how emotions distort thinking. How did I arrive at this conclusion? By inferring the meaning of "ormah" and "arum" from their opposites: "pesayus" and "pesi," which refer (respectively) to a specific type of foolishness and the fool it characterizes, respectively. Let's do a quick overview of this type of foolishness.

Shlomo ha'Melech begins his book by stating that Mishlei is designed "to provide pesa'im with ormah" (1:4). Likewise, "When the scoffer is struck, the pesi gains ormah" (19:25). Throughout Mishlei, the pesi is contrasted with the arum. For example: "A pesi believes everything, but an arum understands every step" (14:15) and "An arum sees evil and hides, but the pesa'im transgress and are punished" (22:3). It is reasonable to conclude that by understanding who the pesi is and the type of knowledge/intelligence he lacks, we will understand ormah and what it means to become an arum.

Rabbeinu Yonah (on Mishlei 1:4), paraphrasing Chazal (Eiruvin 19a), defines pesi (lit. "one who is seduced") as "one who is mispateh b'yitzro" (lit. "seduces himself with his own inclination"). In other words, a pesi is someone whose convictions are heavily influenced by his emotions. To a pesi, what feels good is good, and what feels true is true. He is "seduced" by his psyche into thinking that his feelings and first impressions reflect reality, and he is oblivious to how his emotions distort his thinking. Rabbeinu Yonah (on Mishlei 1:22) says that if the pesi were aware of the distortion-capacity of his own emotions, he would not be so quick to jump to conclusions, and he would be much more careful in his thinking.

Thus, if "ormah" is what a pesi lacks and if an arum is the opposite of a pesi, it follows that ormah refers to knowledge and awareness of how emotions distort one's thinking. This quality of ormah can be used for the good, as it is throughout Mishlei, or it can be used for evil, as in the case of the snake in Gan Eden: "and the snake was more arum than all the beasts of the field" (Bereishis 3:1). The nachash used its ormah - its knowledge of how human emotions distort thinking - to lure Chavah into eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. 

Back to our pasuk. The most mysterious phrase here is "shomer tochachah." I thought about the clues I discovered when formulating the questions, namely: 

• We'd expect Mishlei to say "listens to rebuke" or "accepts rebuke," so "shomer tochachah" must mean something above and beyond that. (Question #3)
• Whatever "shomer tochachah" means, it must somehow lead to ormah. (Question #5)
• The shomer-tochachah who gains ormah is the opposite of the eveel who despises his father's discipline. (Question #6)
• If the eveel despises all rebuke, why does the pasuk focus on his rejection of mussar av (his father's discipline) in particular? (Question #2)

It was then that I had my "EUREKA!" moment - like the "click" on a luggage combination-lock - and the main idea rapidly unfolded from there. 

I realized that mussar av evokes a different type of emotional resistance than all other mussar, due to the special place that a father holds in a one's psyche. (I don't feel the need to support this with evidence or explanation; anyone who has been rebuked by his father knows what I'm talking about.) The eveel is oblivious to the uniqueness of this emotional reaction. Even though he reacts much harsher to his father's discipline than anyone else's, he will give no thought to this difference. Why? Because he lacks awareness of his own emotions - or, in Mishlei terminology, he lacks ormah. I realized that that is the subject of the first half of the pasuk: not the eveel's rejection of mussar in general, but rather, the eveel's lack of ormah as evidenced by the nature of his rejection of his father's mussar in particular. (Yeah, ya might want to read that sentence a few times.)

It follows, then, that the shomer-tochachah is someone who does have an awareness of his own emotions. A good sign that we are correct is that this is exactly what the pasuk says: "The shomer-tochachah will become an arum." In other words, the shomer tochachah will gain self-awareness and knowledge of own his emotions and their power to distort his thinking. This is when I knew I was on the right track.

I realized I was now in a position to define "shomer tochachah." How can a person relate to tochachah in a manner that will gain him an increased awareness of his own emotions? It must be by watching over his own emotional reactions to the tochachah he receives. By monitoring his inner world, he will gain knowledge and awareness of his own emotions (i.e. ormah). In other words, the shomer-tochachah doesn't just look to the tochachah as a way to improve his life in the localized area of decision-making which was the subject of the tochachah. Rather, he looks at the tochachah as a tremendous opportunity to learn about himself by analyzing his own reactions to being rebuked. This type of knowledge will benefit him in all areas of decision-making; awareness of his own emotions will help him to guard against distortions in his thinking, and he'll be more in tune with his own psychological needs and will be able to know what to pursue in his decision-making, thereby leading to healthier and more realistic decisions. 

I then realized that the root SH.M.R. here is not being used in the sense of "guard," "protect," or "keep," but in the sense of "examine," "watch over," or "monitor," as in "ve'haya lachem l'mishmeres ad arbah asar yom la'chodesh ha'zeh" (Shemos 12:6) which means "[The Pesach lamb] shall be yours for examination until the fourteenth day of this month." Thus, I decided to translate "shomer tochachah" as "one who monitors rebuke," meaning, "one who monitors, examines, and analyzes his own emotional response to the rebuke that he receives."

This is when the subject of the pasuk came clearly into focus. The subject of this pasuk is: rebuke as an opportunity for self-knowledge. The fool misses out on this opportunity, in addition to missing out on the benefit of listening to the rebuke itself. In contrast, the shomer-tochachah seizes this opportunity, in addition to implementing the rebuke in action. 

Phase #4: The Main Idea

Now we are in a position to concisely formulate the main idea. In this phase I try to do what I ask all of my students to do: state the main idea in 1-4 clear sentences. Here is my post-analysis translation of the pasuk, and my summary of the main idea, which became clearer once I began formulating it:

Mishlei 15:5: A fool rejects the discipline of his father, but one who monitors rebuke will become cunning.  

In order to successfully heed rebuke, one must approach it from two angles: (1) practicality (i.e. figuring out how to correct your actions and/or decision-making) and (2) psychology (i.e. continually monitoring and managing your emotional reaction to the rebuke in order to overcome the internal resistances to accepting it and implementing it). One who places the emphasis on the practical dimension of the rebuke will improve his life in that specific area of decision-making, but one who goes beyond that and focuses on the psychological dimension rebuke will gain the additional benefit of becoming cunning; that is to say, he will gain self-awareness and knowledge of his own psyche, which will benefit him in all areas of decision-making. In contrast, the fool not only “scorns [all] wisdom and discipline” (Mishlei 1:7), but he is so out of touch with his own emotions that he fails to recognize the nature of his own psychological resistances, as evidenced by the especial disdain he harbors towards his father’s discipline in particular. Consequently, he will suffer the localized consequences of ignoring the rebuke, as well as the widespread consequences of his lack of cunning. 

Now, if we stopped here, we would - at the very least - have a nice idea. But our goal is not only to learn nice ideas, but to learn from the teachings of Shlomo ha'Melech. In order to make sure we've accomplished this goal, we must conclude our analysis with the final phase.

Phase #5: Testing the Main Idea

Here is where we do our final check-over to see if we have actually understood the pasuk. 

• Does the idea make sense? Check. Not only does it make sense, but it resonates with my real-world experience, as all true ideas (ideally) should. 
• Did I answer all of the major questions? Check. 
• Does the pasuk read smoothly according to this idea, in a manner that expresses the idea without feeling forced? Check. 

Conclusion

And that, my friends, is a walk-through of a typical Mishlei pasuk! I hope this was helpful not only in understanding how I arrived at this particular idea, but in demonstrating my approach to Mishlei in general. Let me know what you thought of this idea, and the "walk-through" format of this blog post. If this is something people want, maybe I'll do more in the future!

Addendum: Methodology - How to Learn Mishlei

Before we analyze our pasuk, I'd like to state a brief preface about methodology in Mishlei. My Mishlei rebbi once told me that the purpose of methodology serves two purposes: (1) to set up the facts prior to thinking, and (2) to avoid logical mistakes in thinking. However, when it comes time for the actual thinking itself, "You should think as though there is no method." In other words, your mind should be totally free to explore and to be creative. In The Evolution of Physics, Albert Einstein and Leopold Infeld describe the transition from the stage of fact gathering to the stage of thinking: 

In nearly every detective novel since the admirable stories of Conan Doyle there comes a time where the investigator has collected all the facts he needs for at least some phase of his problem. These facts often seem quite strange, incoherent, and wholly unrelated. The great detective, however, realizes that no further investigation is needed at the moment, and that only pure thinking will lead to a correlation of the facts collected. So he plays his violin, or lounges in his armchair enjoying a pipe, when suddenly, by Jove, he has it! Not only does he have an explanation for the clues at hand, but he knows that certain other events must have happened. Since he now knows exactly where to look for it, he may go out, if he likes, to collect further confirmation for his theory.

That is exactly how I experience the learning of Mishlei. First comes the fact-gathering step, in which the focus is on understanding how to read the words in the pasuk. This is followed by a question step, in which the major questions and problems are identified and clearly articulated. Sometimes these steps are sequential, and sometimes they overlap, but both are necessary at the beginning, before the analysis can commence. Otherwise, one runs the risk of projecting preconceived notions onto the pasuk and missing out on what Shlomo ha'Melech is trying to teach. Also, if you don't take the time to articulate your questions in advance, you run the risk of getting so caught up in your idea that you fail to realize that you've neglected to answer a glaring problem in the pasuk. 

After the initial steps of "the facts" and "the questions" are done, now comes the period of thinking. How the thinking and analysis plays itself out is unpredictable and highly individualized, based on the intuition of each thinker. Once your mind sees a possible idea or approach, explore that idea freely and see where it leads. If it helps, you can think about the idea in conjunction with the pasuk. Personally, I find that it's best to temporarily forget about the pasuk and develop the idea on its own terms.

Once your mind is on the trail of an idea and you've found a good possibility or even a partial possibility (a "kernel" or a "glimmer of an idea," as I sometimes say), you can then return to the pasuk to see whether you have, indeed, figured out what Shlomo ha'Melech is teaching in the pasuk. At this point, it is beneficial to see which of your major questions you have answered and which remain to be answered. You may also find that you'll need to rework the facts in light of your idea. Be prepared to change the entire manner in which you initially read the pasuk. 

The interplay between facts, questions, thinking, and testing can go up and back and around in cycles. That's totally natural and fine. The main thing is to make sure that you've covered all four bases: that your facts are solid, your questions are precise and answered, your idea is clear and makes sense, and that it flows from the words in the pasuk without being forced.

Once you have succeeded in arriving at a clear idea which naturally flows from the pasuk and answers your major questions AND you can clearly see the application and relevance of this idea to real-world decision-making (which is the subject of Mishlei), then you can say: "I understand this pasuk." And if you can clearly summarize your interpretation of the pasuk in four sentences or less and provide an actual real-world example, then you would receive an "A" in my high school Mishlei class!

Mishlei 13:1 - Listening to Authority

משלי יג:א

בֵּן חָכָם מוּסַר אָב וְלֵץ לֹא שָׁמַע גְּעָרָה:

Mishlei 13:1

A wise son [listens to] the discipline of his father, but a scoffer does not listen to rebuke.

Questions / Difficulties

1. Why does the pasuk emphasize the ben chacham (wise son) listening to the discipline of his father, specifically? Wouldn't the ben chacham listen to discipline from anyone? Moreover the second half of the pasuk talks about how the leitz (scoffer) reacts to any rebuke - not just the rebuke of his father. Why the asymmetry?
2. Why does the pasuk have to tell us that the leitz doesn't listen to rebuke? This is part of his very definition! There are many pesukim in Mishlei which highlight this quality of the leitz: "One who chastises the leitz acquires shame for himself" (Mishlei 9:7), "Do not rebuke a leitz, lest he hate you" (ibid 9:8), "A leitz does not like being reproved; he will not go to the wise" (ibid. 15:12), and more. What does our pasuk add? 
3. Why does the pasuk us the word "gaarah" for rebuke? Usually I'm not bothered by such nuances in the words, but in this case, it's strange. Ordinarily, Mishlei would use more conventional terms, like "tochahah" or "mussar" or even "eitzah." The weird thing about the word "gaarah" is that it means "rebuke" but it also means "shouting" or "shrieking." What does this mean? 

Four-sentence Summary of the Main Idea

All human beings harbor a certain degree of resistance to authority. The ben chacham is able to rise above this resistance even when being disciplined by his father - the supreme psychological authority - and learn from what he has to offer. In contrast, the leitz's psychological resistance is so pronounced that he hears all rebuke as if the rebuker is yelling at him; consequently, his mind will be completely closed to criticism. The only way to get through to the leitz is to bypass his psychological resistance and get him to see the consequences of his actions with his own mind; as long as these consequences are framed in practical terms rather than superego terms (e.g. "bad" "sinful" "evil"), there is at least a remote possibility that he will listen.

Haftaras Parashas Pinchas: How Eliyahu ha’Navi Lost His Job

I initially intended to write this week's dvar Torah blog post on the haftarah of Parashas Pinchas. Since Parashas Pinchas falls out after the 17th of Tammuz this year, the regular haftarah is replaced with the first chapter of Sefer Yirmiyahu. Unfortunately, I am writing this on a plane, and I only have access to meforshim on the regular haftarah of Parashas Pinchas. For this reason, I decided to write about that haftarah instead.

Artwork: Gideon, Champion of Justice
(This is what I imagine a young Eliyahu ha'Navi looked like)

Haftaras Parashas Pinchas: How Eliyahu ha’Navi Lost His Job

In the seventh perek of Shemoneh Perakim, the Rambam writes that ethical perfection (a.k.a. “perfection of middos”) is a prerequisite for nevuah. However, he notes that it is not necessary for the navi to have reached total perfection in all of his or her middos. The Rambam cites several examples of neviim who were still able to receive nevuah, in spite of their ethical imperfections: Shlomo ha’Melech still struggled with his taavah for women; David ha’Melech had problems with cruelty; both Shmuel ha’Navi and Yaakov Avinu were unduly afraid of those who posed a threat to them (i.e. Shaul and Eisav, respectively); and Eliyahu ha’Navi had issues with anger.

In this dvar Torah we will examine an instance of Eliyahu’s anger and its repercussions.

The Haftarah: According to Ralbag

In the perek which precedes our haftarah, Eliyahu manages to convince Bnei Yisrael that “Hashem – He is the God! Hashem – He is the God” (I Melachim 18:39) at the climax of his miraculous demonstration before the priests of Baal. Unfortunately, the success doesn’t last. Bnei Yisrael remain attached to avodah zarah, and regress to their old ways. Moreover, Achav and Eezevel – the evil king and queen of Israel – proceed with their plan to exterminate all neviim. Our haftarah begins with Eliyahu fleeing for his life.

Eliyahu retreats to the desert to minimize his chances of getting caught. After nearly starving to death and begging Hashem to take his life, he is saved by an angel of Hashem who provides him with food and lodging in the wilderness. The angel encourages Eliyahu to continue on his journey. Finally, after 40 days and 40 nights of traveling, Eliyahu arrives at Har Sinai, where he crawls into a cave and goes to sleep.

That night Eliyahu receives a prophetic dream. At the beginning of the dream he is asked, “Why are you here, Eliyahu?” (ibid. 19:9). Although this is clearly a rhetorical question – since Hashem is Omniscient, and knows why Eliyahu is here – it is still a peculiar question to ask, since it doesn’t seem as though Eliyahu initially planned to journey to Har Sinai. Eliyahu answers:

“I have acted with great zeal for Hashem, God of Legions, for the Children of Israel have forsaken Your covenant; they have razed Your altars and have killed Your prophets by the sword, so [that] I alone have remained, and they now seek to take my life” (ibid. 19:10).

According to the Ralbag, Eliyahu was angry at the sin of Israel. In his response to Hashem, Eliyahu was implicitly asking Him to exact vengeance from them. Hashem responds to this request in a cryptic manner:

[The word of God] then said, “Go out [of the cave] and stand on the mountain before Hashem.” And behold, Hashem was passing, and a great, powerful wind, smashing mountains and breaking rocks, went before Hashem. “Hashem is not in the wind!” [Eliyahu was told]. After the wind came an earthquake. “Hashem is not in the earthquake!” After the earthquake came a fire. “Hashem is not in the fire!” After the fire came a still, thin sound (ibid. 19:11-12).

The basic question is: What was the meaning of this prophetic vision? We know that all neviim (except Moshe Rabbeinu) received their prophecies in the form of images, which they must interpret as allegories. In some cases, the pesukim relate both the images and their meaning; in other cases, only the meaning is conveyed, and imagery is omitted; and in other cases – such as this one – only the images are recorded in the pesukim, and the meaning is left for us to decipher.

Ralbag proposes the following theory about the meaning of this vision, and its relationship to the events which preceded and followed it: 

It would seem that Hashem [showed Eliyahu this vision] to prompt him to ask for mercy on behalf of Israel – not to pray for them to be destroyed for their evil ways – for Hashem desires to delay His anger so that they will do teshuvah [and return] to Him. 

Accordingly, Hashem showed him destructive phenomena, such as “a great and powerful wind, smashing mountains and breaking rocks,” and told him that “Hashem is not in the wind” – for the derech of Hashem is to bring harm upon someone only as a means of bringing about good. Since it was clear to Hashem that Israel would not accept His rebuke, He didn’t want to punish them for their sins in the full measure that they deserved, but instead, He waited for them to see whether they would do teshuvah from their evil ways. 

“And after the wind came an earthquake,” which is more harmful than the wind, insofar as it is capable of overturning the earth. And it also mentioned, “Hashem is not in the earthquake!” as it mentioned about the wind. “And after the earthquake came a fire,” which is even more harmful. And it also mentioned, “Hashem is not in the fire!” for the same reason we mentioned. 

It is as though He was explaining through this that such harmful phenomena are not directly intended by Hashem, but rather, He concealed His countenance (i.e. He withdrew His hashgachah pratis) from Israel and abandoned them to the rain of the arrows [of chance] which were ready to befall them. The reason for this is that the [hashgachic] harms which are intended to deliver mussar (rebuke) would not benefit Israel [in this case] … 

But “After the fire came a still, thin sound” – in other words, a very low sound from Hashem, as if it were a composite of sound and silence. Through this [Hashem intended] to convey [the message] that since Israel fell into these evils, and did not sense that it was their own sins which caused them to be abandoned to the vicissitudes of chance, therefore, a special type of mussar would come from Hashem, but it would not be as complete as the manner in which Hashem brought mussar to Bnei Yisrael in the Wilderness during the days of Moshe, which they immediately perceived as [being brought about] on account of their sins; rather, this mussar would be like a composite of sound and silence. 

Such was the meaning of Hashem’s prophecy to Eliyahu. To summarize: Hashem sought to show him that Israel did not deserve the full measure of Hashem’s mussar – namely, the type of miraculous “fire and brimstone” hashgachic punishments which Eliyahu, in his anger, requested. Hashem reminded him that He only brings such punishments upon those who would benefit from them, and Israel was already beyond the point where they would benefit from this type of punishment.  

What happens next is interesting: 

It happened that when Eliyahu heard [this], he wrapped his face in his mantle, and he went out and stood by the cave’s entrance; and behold, a voice [spoke] unto him, and said, “Why are you here, Eliyahu?”

Hashem asks Eliyahu the very same question he asked him at the outset of his prophecy. And how does Eliyahu answer?

[Eliyahu] said, “I have acted with great zeal for Hashem, God of legions, for the Children of Israel have forsaken Your covenant; they have razed Your altars and have killed Your prophets by the sword, so [that] I alone have remained, and they now seek to take my life (ibid. 19:14).

Eliyahu responded in exactly the same manner that he the first time! What does this indicate? Why did Hashem ask him the same question twice, and why did Eliyahu give the same answer? Moreover, what are we supposed to learn from the fact that Eliyahu repeated his original answer to Hashem’s question? Ralbag writes:

It would seem that Eliyahu was so angry about the sin of the Jews that he didn’t pay enough attention to comprehend the meaning of Hashem’s prophecy. For this reason, Hashem responded [to Eliyahu’s response] differently than He did the first time.

What was Hashem’s response to Eliyahu the second time around?

Then Hashem said to him, “Go, return on your way, and go to the Wilderness of Damascus. When you arrive, you shall anoint Chazael as king over Aram. And you shell anoint Yehu ben Nimshi as a king over Israel. And you shall anoint Elisha ben Shaphat as a navi in your stead” (ibid. 19:15-16).

That’s right: Eliyahu failed the single-question exam that Hashem set up for him, and lost his job as the navi of Israel, and was instructed to appoint Elisha as his successor. At the end of the section, the Ralbag reiterates and expands upon his theory:

[This incident with Eliyahu was recorded] to teach us that the purpose of the navi’s existence is to supervise the people in whose midst he prophesies. Thus, when the navi utilizes his prophecy for some other purpose, the Divine Wisdom will no longer consent to his being a prophet for that nation. 

For this reason we find it related that when Hashem saw that Eliyahu requested for harm to befall Israel, Hashem [attempted] to guide him to understand that He doesn’t desire to bring harm. It is for this reason that [Eliyahu] saw a prophetic vision of a wind, an earthquake, and a fire [and was told] that Hashem was not in them. Afterwards he was shown Hashem’s glory and was asked a second time, “Why are you here, Eliyahu?” It would seem that because of Eliyahu’s anger over the sin of Israel, he was incapable of deciphering the divine intent of this prophecy that Hashem had shown him. It is for this reason that he answered Hashem again in the same way that he did the first time. 

And when Hashem saw that he was utilizing his prophecy [in an attempt] to bring harm to Israel – which was the opposite of what [Hashem] intended – then He informed him that he was to appoint Elisha as a navi in his place …

In other words, when Hashem rhetorically asked, “Why are you here?” He wasn’t asking about why Eliyahu was here, in this physical location of Har Sinai. Rather, he was asking him, “What is your role here?” He was prompting Eliyahu to recall why he was appointed as navi in the first place, and to examine whether his present request was consistent with that role. Hashem even gave him a hint in the form of the vision about the destructive phenomena and the still, thin sound. But when Hashem asked Eliyahu the same question again, and Eliyahu repeated his wrong answer, that was it. He had missed his one opportunity for teshuvah, and the divine plan had to change.

A Take-away Lesson for Non-neviim

In Hilchos Deos 6:7, the Rambam presents the mitzvah upon every Jew to rebuke his fellow Jew. He walks us through the proper procedure for delivering and accepting rebuke, and cautions us not to violate the Torah-prohibition against embarrassing a fellow Jew – especially in public. However, he adds a qualification to this prohibition:

In which cases does this prohibition apply? In matters between man and man. But in matters of heaven, if a person doesn't return [in teshuvah] in private, we shame him in public, publicize his sin, insult him to his face, and degrade him and curse him until he returns to the good - just as all of the neviim of Israel did.*

There are many of us (myself included) who sometimes find ourselves feeling anger at our fellow Jews for their words, their actions, and their beliefs which we consider to be wrong or evil. We are sometimes prone to shaming, bad-mouthing, insulting, degrading, and cursing those whom we feel “have forsaken the covenant of Hashem,” believing ourselves to be “acting with great zeal for Hashem, God of Legions” – just like Eliyahu ha’Navi.

At times like these, when we feel ourselves in the grip of such righteous zeal, it would behoove us to remember what happened to Eliyahu. He was acting for the sake of Hashem, and he did have Israel’s interests in mind. Nevertheless, his anger affected his role as the guide and shepherd of Israel. Because he allowed his anger to cloud his mind, Hashem removed him from his leadership position.

If this was Hashem’s will in the case of Eliyahu ha’Navi, kal va’chomer for lowly individuals such as ourselves, whose religious zeal is almost entirely a psychological byproduct of our ignorance and our numerous ethical imperfections. If Eliyahu ha’Navi lacked sufficient anger-management skills to prevent his personal feelings from affecting his efforts to better the lot of his Jewish brethren, then certainly we – at least, the vast majority of us – are in no position to express our righteous indignation at those we deem to be wrong.

And if we are compelled to attempt to correct our fellow Jews, we would benefit by remembering that Hashem is not in the wind, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire – but in the still, thin sound.

* It should be noted that this halacha may or may not apply nowadays. I have heard chachamim say things to the effect of, “Bizman ha’zeh, we don’t know how to give rebuke” and I have likewise been told that bizman ha’zeh, we no longer utilize the method of “public shaming and shunning” as a catalyst for teshuvah, since it is likely to backfire. Although I hope that a person would draw this conclusion from the blog post itself, I nevertheless felt that this point deserved its own footnote.