Purim 5782 – A Theory Connecting Purim to Yom ha’Kipurim Which is NOT Based on Specious Linguistics – Part 2 (An Answer)

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Purim 5782 – A Theory Connecting Purim to Yom ha’Kipurim Which is NOT Based on Specious Linguistics – Part 2 (An Answer)

The haftarah of Yom ha’Kippurim opens with the pasuk cited by the Rambam in Hilchos Megilah 2:17. The navi then goes on to answer the question asked of Hashem by the Jews at that time: “Why did we fast and You did not see? Why did we afflict our souls and You did not know?” (ibid. 58:3). The navi answers:

Can such be the fast I choose: a day when man merely afflicts himself? Can it be merely bowing one’s head like a bulrush and spreading sackcloth and ashes? Do you call this a fast and a day of favor to Hashem? Surely, this is the fast I choose: to break open the shackles of wickedness, to undo the bonds of injustice, and to let the oppressed go free, and annul all perversion. Surely you should break your bread for the hungry, and bring the moaning poor [to your] home; when you see a naked person, clothe him; and do not hide yourself from your kin. Then your light will burst out like the dawn and your healing will speedily sprout; your righteous deed will precede you and the glory of Hashem will gather you in. Then you will call and Hashem will respond; you will cry out and He will say, “Here I am!” If you remove from your midst perversion, finger-pointing, and evil speech, and offer your soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul; then your light will shine in the darkness, and your deepest gloom will be like the noon. (ibid. 58:3-10)

The message is clear: no matter how devoutly we fast and cry out in prayer, Hashem will not respond until we repair our relationships with our fellow human beings. One can only enter the realm of bein adam l’Makom (between man and God) through the gate of bein adam l’chaveiro (between man and his fellow man).

This theme is certainly appropriate to Yom ha’Kippurim: a day on which we appeal to Hashem to accept our prayers, our fasting, and our teshuvah. But what does this have to do with Purim? According to the Rambam: everything! In his introduction to the Mishneh Torah, at the end of the list of mitzvos, Rambam explains the central theme of Purim and identifies its basis in the Torah itself:

… the Prophets, along with Beis Din, instituted and commanded us in the reading of the Megilah in its proper time in order to recall the praises of Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu and the salvations He did for us, that He was near to our salvation, in order to bless Him and to praise Him, and in order to make known to the coming generations that that which was stated in the Torah is true, as it is stated, "For which is a great nation that has a God Who is close to it, as is Hashem, our God, whenever we call to Him?" (Devarim 4:7).

Purim memorializes the most dramatic instance in history of Hashem’s promise to be “a God Who is close to [us] … whenever we call to Him.” The Megilah clearly states that the Jews fasted at the behest of Esther in response to the threat of Haman. We can infer that this fasting was accompanied by prayer and teshuvah as well. But the narrative in the Megilah alone might lead us to make a grave error, namely, to assume that fasting and prayer are enough to warrant a response from Hashem. But they are not enough, as Yeshayahu and all the other neviim have reminded us throughout the ages.

This, I submit, is the thematic connection between Purim and Yom ha’Kippurim. Both days share the theme of calling out to Hashem in hopes that He will answer us. Both, therefore, are in need of the reminder that Hashem only responds to those who “walk in His ways” (Devarim 11:22), “to bring life to the spirit of the lowly and to bring life to the heart of the oppressed” (Yeshaya 57:15). Perhaps this is why the mitzvos of mishloach manos and matanos la’evyonim were instituted: to remind us, on a day commemorating Hashem’s response to our outcry, that we will only merit such a response if we promote love and peace between our fellow Jews and enact righteousness and justice on behalf of the oppressed.
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I Hate Sukkah (in a Good Way)

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My Dinner with Andre (1981)

I Hate Sukkah (in a Good Way)

Exordium

I hate the mitzvah of sukkah.

"Whoa there, buddy!" one might object. "Hate is a strong word!"

Yes - and it is a strong feeling I have towards the mitzvah of sukkah ... but only at very specific times, under a narrow set of conditions.

I love the mitzvah of sukkah at the onset of Yom Tov, when we first make kiddush and say the berachah of leishev ba'sukkah. I love the mitzvah of sukkah the first night, when I sleep beneath the s'chach under the stars. I love Yom Tov afternoons when the air is cool and the sun is warm and I curl up with a nice book in my sukkah and read the afternoon away. In fact, I love the mitzvah of sukkah for most of the holiday. 

But when do I hate it? Usually on the 4th or 5th night, at around 10pm, when I'm ready to go to sleep, and the forecast says 15% chance of rain between 11pm and 2am, and it's warm inside and it's cold outside, and I haven't gotten a restful sleep for days, and it's windy but not windy enough, and I want to catch a cold so I'm patur (exempt) but I'm not actually sick yet, and I haven't taken my usual Yom Tov nap because then I'd have to sleep outside, and the vast majority of the people I interact with over the holiday don't sleep in their sukkot because they don't know it's obligatory or they think they have a heter (halachic license to get out of the obligation) or they actually have a heter, but regardless of the reason I must suffer my sukkah-angst in isolation from most of my fellow Jews, and everyone is talking about how nice the weather has been and all I can wish for is torrential rain and meteorological misery so that I can spend the rest of the holiday safe and sound in my own bed indoors, and I am filled with religious guilt for having such a hostile attitude towards one of the 613 mitzvos, and then I am filled with philosophical guilt over my religious guilt, and then I am filled with existential grief over the fact that I am a pathetic psyche-laden intellect in a physical body in a physical universe obligated in a physical mitzvah designed to help me transcend my attachment to the physical and all I can do is complain about my discomfort. 

That is when I hate the mitzvah of sukkah.

But I call this hatred a "good" hatred because it is by design, and it was designed for my benefit - as is the case with all mitzvos. 

Sukkah as a "Skillful Frustration"

I have written on previous occasions about Bruce Lee's concept of "skillful frustrations." Bruce Lee taught that "People have to grow by skillful frustrations – otherwise, they have no incentive to develop their own means and ways of coping with the world." In these articles I have explained how the entire system of mitzvos can be thought of as a regimen of "skillful frustrations" which facilitates each person's development as a tzelem Elokim (truth-seeking intellect).

The mitzvah of sukkah is a perfect example of this. Let us review the basic halachos, as codified by the Rambam in Hilchos Shofar, Sukkah, v'Lulav:

6:5 – What is the mitzvah of sukkah? That a person should eat, drink, and dwell in a sukkah for all seven days, both by day and by night, just like he dwells in his home during the other days of the year. For all seven days a person should make his home temporary and his sukkah permanent, as it is stated: “In sukkos shall you dwell for seven days” (Vayikra 23:42) How? His attractive utensils and attractive bedding [should be brought] to the sukkah. His drinking utensils - i.e., his cups and crystal pitchers - [should be brought] to the sukkah. However, utensils used for food - i.e., pans and plates - [may be left] outside the sukkah. A candelabra [should be brought] to the sukkah. However, if the sukkah is small, it should be left outside the sukkah.

6:6 – We eat and drink and sleep in the sukkah all seven days, both by day and by night. And it is prohibited to eat a meal outside of the sukkah for all seven days, unless he ate a “temporary eating” of a k’beitzah or less or a little more. And we do not sleep outside of the sukkah, even a nap. It is permissible to drink water and eat fruits outside of the sukkah, but someone who is strict with himself and doesn’t even drink water outside of the sukkah is praiseworthy.

6:7 – Eating on the first night of Sukkos is obligatory, and even if one only ate a kazayis of bread, he has fulfilled his obligation. From then and on it is optional: if one wants to eat a meal, he must eat it in the sukkah, but if he only wants to eat fruits or nuts for the entire seven days, he may heat outside of the sukkah - just like the law of eating matzah on Pesach.

6:9 – Throughout the seven days [of the festival], a person should read in the sukkah. However, when he attempts to comprehend what he reads in depth and appreciate its details, he should do so outside the sukkah, so that his mind will be settled. When a person prays, he may pray inside the sukkah or outside the sukkah, as he desires.

As you can see, the mitzvah of sukkah takes all of the activities of our daily existence - eating, drinking, sleeping, learning, praying - and skillfully frustrates them by either forcing us to do them in the sukkah, or by forcing us to analyze whether we need to do them in the sukkah. Halacha makes it impossible to fall back on our habits.

This reminds me of a scene from the movie My Dinner with Andre (1981), in which Andre tells Wally about a friend of his named ROC who would implement his own "skillful frustrations," just to change things up. This topic leads them to a broader discussion which parallels our analysis of the mitzvah of sukkah. I will underline the most pertinent passages for emphasis:

ANDRE: But ROC used to practice certain exercises, like, uh, for instance, if he were right-handed, all today he would do everything with his left hand. All day, eating, writing, everything ... opening doors ... in order to break the habits of living. Because the great danger, he felt, for him, was to fall into a trance, out of habit. He had a whole series of very simple exercises that he had invented just to keep seeing, feeling, remembering. Because you have to learn now. It didn't used to be necessary, but today you have to learn something, like, uh ... are you really hungry or are you just stuffing your face because that's what you do, out of habit? I mean, you can afford to do it, so you do it, whether you're hungry or not. 

ANDRE: You know, if you go to the Buddhist Meditation Center, they make you taste each bite of your food ... so it takes two hours, it's horrible, to eat your lunch. But you're conscious of the taste of your food. If you're just eating out of habit, then you don't taste the food, and you're not conscious of the reality of what's happening to you. You enter the dream world again. 

WALLY: Now, do you think maybe we live in this dream world because we do so many things every day that affect us in ways that somehow we're just not aware of? I mean, you know, I was thinking, um, last Christmas, Debbie and I were given an electric blanket. I can tell you that it is just such a marvelous advance over our old way of life, and it is just great. But, uh, it is quite different from not having an electric blanket and I sometimes sort of wonder, well, what is it doing to me? I mean, I sort of feel, uh, I'm not sleeping quite in the same way. 

ANDRE: No, you wouldn't be. 

WALLY: I mean, uh, and my dreams are sort of different and ... and I feel a little bit different when I get up in the morning. 

ANDRE: I wouldn't put an electric blanket on for anything. First, I'd be worried I might get electrocuted. No, I don't trust technology. But I mean, the main thing, Wally, is that, I think that that kind of comfort just separates you from reality in a very direct way. 

WALLY: You mean ... 

ANDRE: I mean, if you don't have that electric blanket, and your apartment is cold, and you need to put on another blanket, or go into the closet and pile up coats on top of the blankets you have, well, then you know it's cold. And that sets up a link of things. You have compassion for the per ... well, is the person next to you cold? Are there other people in the world who are cold? What a cold night. I like the cold, my God, I never realized. I don't want a blanket, it's fun being cold, I can snuggle up against you even more because it's cold. All sorts of things occur to you. Turn on that electric blanket, and it's like taking a tranquilizer or it's like being lobotomized by watching television. I think you enter the dream world again. 

ANDRE: I mean, what does it do to us, Wally, living in an environment where something as massive as the seasons, or winter, or cold don't in any way affect us? I mean, we're animals, after all. I mean, what does that mean? I think that means that instead of living under the sun and the moon and the sky and the stars, we're living in a fantasy world of our own making. 

WALLY: Yeah, but I mean ... I would never give up my electric blanket, Andre, I mean, because, uh, New York is cold in the winter, I mean, our apartment is cold. It's a difficult environment, I mean, our lives are tough enough as it is, I'm not looking for ways to get rid of the few things that provide relief and comfort, I mean, on the contrary, I'm looking for more comfort because, uh, the world is very abrasive, I mean, uh ... I'm trying to protect myself because, really, there are these abrasive beatings to be avoided everywhere you look. 

ANDRE: Yeah, but, Wally, don't ... don't you see that comfort can be dangerous? I mean, you like to be comfortable, and I like to be comfortable, too, but comfort can lull you into a dangerous tranquility. I mean, my mother knew a woman, Lady Hatfield, who was one of the richest women in the world, and she died of starvation because all she would eat was chicken. I mean, she just liked chicken, Wally, and that was all she would eat, and actually, her body was starving, but she didn't know it cause she was quite happy eating her chicken, and so, she finally died. 

ANDRE: See, I honestly believe that we're all like Lady Hatfield now, we're having a lovely, comfortable time with our electric blankets and our chicken, and meanwhile we're starving because we're so cut off from contact with reality that we're not getting any real sustenance ... cause we don't see the world. We don't see ourselves. We don't see how our actions affect other people.

Herein lies one of the key features of the Torah regimen. Andre and Wally recognize the dangers of our comforts, our habits, and our tendency to isolate ourselves from reality - and yet, Wally admits: "I would never give up my electric blanket." But that is exactly what the Torah forces us to do - not permanently (like ascetic monks), not arbitrarily (like ROC's personal routine-changes), but skillfully, in a manner calculated to lead us towards specific fundamental insights about ourselves and reality.

But what I like about the comparison between My Dinner with Andre and the mitzvah of sukkah is how it highlights the fact that even if a person didn't know anything about the purpose of this mitzvah or the themes of the holiday, the very act of observing this mitzvah would nevertheless lead to insights which trigger personal growth. 

A Personal Sukkah-inspired Insight

I'd like to share one of the insights I had a few years ago. Before I do that, I'll present the background ideas which made this insight possible.

In the Moreh ha'Nevuchim 3:43 the Rambam explains that Pesach and Sukkos share a common moral theme:

As for the moral lesson, it is that man should always remember the days of bad amid the days of good, so that his gratitude to God should become great and so that he should achieve humility and submissiveness. Accordingly, matzah and maror must be eaten on Pesach to remind us of what happened to us. Similarly, we leave [our] houses and dwell in huts, as is done by those who toil in deserts and wastelands, in order to remember that this was our situation in times before: "that I made the Children of Israel dwell in huts, etc." and that we were moved from this [situation] to dwell in richly ornamented houses in the best and most fertile places on earth, due to Hashem's kindnesses and His promise to our fathers, inasmuch as they were perfected people in their philosophical outlook and in their moral character; I am referring to Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. For this, too, is one of the pivots of the Torah, I mean the belief that every benefit that will be or has been granted is due to the zechus Avos (merit of the Forefathers), since "they kept the way of Hashem to do righteousness and justice" (Bereishis 18:19).

Sukkos is first referred to in the Written Torah as "the Festival of the Gathering at the close of the year, when you gather in your work from the field" (Shemos 23:16). In an agricultural society, this is the time of year when we would be most prone to feelings of haughtiness and entitlement, as if we were the sole causes of our own success. In this state of abundance, indulgence, and self-congratulation, we would be prone to forgetting our humble origins as impoverished slaves in a tyrannical and abusive regime. We would forget that we owe all of our thanks to Hashem - and His promise to the Avos - for taking us out of that wretched situation and ultimately enabling us to reach the state of prosperity that we now enjoy.

Not only are we enjoined to remember our impoverished past, but we are commanded to take responsibility for the impoverished members of our own community - during Pesach, Sukkos, and every Yom Tov meal, as part of the mitzvah of simchah (rejoicing). The Rambam writes in Hilchos Shevivas Yom Tov:

And when he eats and drinks [at his holiday meal] he is obligated to feed the convert, the orphan, and the widow along with the other downtrodden poor. But someone who closes the gates of his courtyard and eats and drinks – he, his children, and his wife – and doesn’t provide food and drink for the impoverished and embittered: this is not the simchah of mitzvah, but the simchah of his belly. These are the people about whom it is said: “their sacrifices will be to like the bread of mourners, of which all who partake are defiled, because their bread is for themselves” (Hoshea 9:4). Simchah like this will be a disgrace for them, as it is said: “and I will scatter filth upon your faces, the filth of your festive offerings” (Malachi 2:3).

In other words, if a person attempts to rejoice on the holiday without caring for the poor, his mitzvah of simchah is transformed into a self-indulgent travesty. 

Okay. Now we are in a position to appreciate the insight I had on Sukkos several years ago.

It was the 4th or 5th night of Sukkos at around 10pm. The forecast was uncertain: there was a chance it would rain between 11pm and 2am, but the probability wasn't high enough to wait it out. I was sleep-deprived, moody, and resentful of the mitzvah. I waited until I was too tired to resist, and then I started getting ready for bed. As I dragged my mattresses and blankets out into the cold night, I hoped that it would rain so I could finally get a good night's sleep indoors. Lo and behold, at around 12pm, I awoke to the pitter-patter of raindrops. I rejoiced! Finally, I could go in.

And then it hit me: I can go indoors ... but there are countless human beings out there who can't. I thought about the millions of people who are homeless, who sleep out in the cold every night, and cannot go indoors because they have no place to go. 

The idea from the Rambam about "remembering the days of bad amid the days of good" and the halacha about caring for the poor as part of our rejoicing on Yom Tov suddenly clicked. My childish gratitude for being allowed to go inside shifted into a true gratitude for all of the good in my life: that I have a home, a family, a bed, clothing, electricity, water, financial security - and more importantly, that I have the system of Torah, with all of the moral and intellectual perfection it has helped me to attain, which made this moment of insight possible. 

Was this a “new idea”? Of course not. I knew that homeless people exist, and that they have nowhere to go. But it was only via the observance of this mitzvah that I encountered this insight in such a visceral way, during a time of the year (i.e. an opulent holiday filled with food and drink) that I wouldn’t have otherwise given any thought to anyone but myself? Not only that, but because this moment of insight was so powerful, it altered the way I view and interact with poor and homeless people in general, for the better. 

Concluding Thoughts

As Andre told Wally, the electric blankets and the chicken act like tranquilizers, creating a cocoon of comfort which muffles the harsh realities of the outside world. But thanks to the mitzvah system, we are compelled - often against our will - to temporarily and strategically deprive us of these comforts. Whether it's giving up the "electric blankets" of our houses on Sukkos or giving up the "chicken" of our chametz on Pesach or kashrus or niddah or Shabbos or tefilah or shaatnez or any of the other 613 mitzvos - there is no shortage of "skillful frustrations" to spur our personal development. 

And it is this thought which makes my periodical animosity towards the mitzvah of sukkah bearable - and indeed, a discomfort for which I am deeply grateful. 

Have a chag sameach, filled with skillful frustrations! 

Tishah b'Av 5777: Hashem's Tzedakah and Our Shame

Disclaimer: This post is an attempt to explain one of the kinos (lamentations/dirges/elegies) we say on the morning of Tishah b'Av. I do not claim to have any special knowledge or expertise in kinnos. The only experience I have is the analysis I wrote of another kinah two years ago (Tishah b'Av 5775: Woe Unto Us!). In particular, I feel apprehensive that I am reading too much into the kinah. With something like Mishlei or Avos I have a sense of what a "Mishlei idea" or an "Avos idea" looks like, but I don't feel I'm quite there yet with kinos. That being said, take this post with more grains of salt than you do my other posts. 

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Artwork: Light of Day, by Drew Tucker

Tishah b'Av 5777: Hashem's Tzedakah and Our Shame

Kinah #19

This year, in preparation for Tishah b'Av, I chose to focus on Kinah #19. Below is a translation of the entire thing. As you read through, ask yourself two questions: "What is the main theme or idea of this kinah?" and "How is this designed to facilitate aveilus (mourning) in a manner which leads to national teshuvah?"

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah (righteousness), because of the wondrous signs You have displayed from then until now; and ours is the boshes ha'panim (shamefacedness), because of the trials with which You sought to refine us, [but as a result of our failure] You despised us. 

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah, because You have taken [our] nation from amidst another nation, with miracles; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because of the hypocrisy to be found within us as we emulated [Egypt's abominable] deeds. 

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah, because God went out to redeem us as a people unto Himself; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because they [our forefathers] rebelled on the shore of the Sea of Reeds, the nation sinning against its God. 

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah, when we recall the proclamation, "You are witnesses, and I am God!"; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because we blasphemed Hashem in [the Wilderness of] Sin [when we demanded of Aharon,] "Arise and create a god for us!" 

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah, because You feed us [the mahn] that tasted like dough fried in honey; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because on the day [we made the Golden Calf], we brought it an offering of fine flour with oil and honey. 

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah, because You provided us with the mahn, the well, and the pillar of clouds; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because our forefathers grumbled in their tents about [the mahn and called it] the destructive bread. 

Yours, my Lord, is the righteousness, because in the Wilderness we lacked nothing; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because we defied You at Lavan, Chatzeros, and Di-Zahav as related [by Moshe]. 

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah, because of [how You waged war for us with] Sichon and God and all the kings of Canaan; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because of Achan who appropriated for himself from the forbidden loot [of Jericho] and found no excuse [for his crime]. 

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah, because of all that You accomplished through the fourteen savior [-Judges]; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because of Michah's idol through which we transgressed. 

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah, because You erected [Tabernacles] at Shiloh, Nov, Giv'on, and the Eternal Temple [in Jerusalem]; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because the evil in our midst caused each one's destruction, and in their loss we have been humiliated. 

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah, because although the destructions of the two Temples were caused by our corruption, we ourselves were spared; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because we should have returned in teshuvah to You wholeheartedly, so that You would return to us with compassion. 

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah, because of the [almost] nine centuries throughout which You withheld Your anger [over our sins] and didn't broadcast it; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because [Daniel] the man of delights pleaded with You [to end the Babylonian Exile after a mere seventy years, even though we were not worthy,] saying, "Incline Your ear, O my God, and hear!" (Daniel 9:18).

The theme of this kinah is contained in the refrain: "Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah ... and ours is the boshes ha'panim." This phrase comes from a pasuk in Sefer Daniel. The pasuk appears in the context of Daniel's prayer to Hashem on behalf of the Jews in the Babylonian exile, after the destruction of the first Beis ha'Mikdash (Holy Temple). The full pesukim couplet reads:

"Yours, my Lord, is the righteousness, and ours is the shamefacedness, as of this very day - to the men of Judah and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem and to all of Israel, those near and those far, in all of the lands to which You have driven them, because of their betrayal with which they have betrayed You. Hashem, to us is the shamefacedness - to our kings, to our officers, and to our forefathers - for we have sinned against You" (Daniel 9:7-8). 

In order to understand the kinah and the impact it was intended to have, we need to make sense of this refrain. [1] Once we figure out the main idea, this will unlock the meaning of the rest of the kinah.

The Questions

There are five major questions here:

(1) What is tzedakah (righteousness)? This term is often thought of in the context of charity, but as we'll see, this isn't really the primary meaning - at least, not as "charity" is commonly understood. 

(2) What does it mean that tzedakah "belongs to Hashem"? Daniel could have simply said something like: "Hashem is the tzadik" (Shemos 9:27), as Paroh said when he acknowledged Hashem's righteousness.  Alternatively, he could have said: "Hashem is a tzadik in all of His ways" (Tehilim 145:17), as David ha'Melech did when he wanted to praise Hashem's righteousness. Why did Daniel choose to speak about tzedakah as though it is something that belongs to Hashem, like a possession? Doesn't righteousness also belong to us - or at least, to the tzadikim (righteous people) among us?  

To those who are inclined to dismiss this question because they don't think the pasuk ought to be this way, see footnote [2].

(3) What is boshes ha'panim (shamefacedness)? In our blog post What is Bushah? we examined several uses of the term "bushah" - some with a positive connotation, and others with a negative one. In this kinah, it is clear that "boshes ha'panim" is a response to the recognition of something bad that Bnei Yisrael did. All of the statements that the paytan (author of the kinah) associated with boshes ha'panim are things that we ought to be ashamed of. But what, exactly, is the nature of this boshes ha'panim?

(4) What does it mean that boshes panim "belongs to us"? Similar to Question #2, why didn't Daniel simply say, "We are ashamed"? Why did he express this by saying that the shamefacedness belongs to us?

(5) What was Daniel's intention in contrasting Hashem's tzedakah with our boshes ha'panim? And, by extension, what was the paytan's intention in structuring his kinah on the basis of this juxtaposition?

We will now answer these questions one at a time, in order.

Answer to Question #1: Definition of Tzedakah

The clearest definition of tzedakah I have seen is stated by the Rambam [3] in the penultimate chapter of the Guide for the Perplexed. He writes:

The word “tzedakah” is derived from tzedek, which means “righteousness” (or “justice” [4]). The meaning of “tzedakah” is to grant to everyone who has a right to something that which he has a right to, and to give to every existing thing that which is proper for its existence.

In short, tzedakah refers to the provision of needs - whether needs determined by a legal system, or by the laws of nature and the design of the organism. This concept is exemplified by the requirements of the Torah-level mitzvah of tzedakah, namely, to provide the poor person with "dey machsoro asher yechsar lo - whatever he is lacking" (Devarim 15:8). We are obligated to make sure that the poor person is given food, water, shelter, clothing, a spouse - and, to an extent, we must also address his or her psychological needs.

Technically speaking, according to the Rambam's first definition, it would be an act of tzedakah to give a hired man his wages, or to pay off a debt; according to his second definition, it would be an act of tzedakah to water a plant, to feed an animal, or to help a human being who is suffering. [5]

This is why I object to translating "tzedakah" as "charity." According to the Rambam, tzedakah is much broader than that, and encompasses all needs of all creations.

Answer to Question #2: Hashem's Tzedakah (in Contrast to Ours)

The Rambam's definition of tzedakah strengthens our Question #2: What does it mean that tzedakah "belongs" to Hashem? Don't we also have tzedakah?

The answer is that Hashem's tzedakah is fundamentally different from human tzedakah. The Rambam alludes to this in the aforementioned chapter of the Guide when he explains how the term "tzadik" is used in reference to Hashem:

We have already explained in discussing the impropriety of [ascribing] attributes to God, for every attribute with which Hashem is described in the books of the Prophets is [really] an attribute of His actions. Thus ... He is called tzadik ("righteous") on account of His mercy with the weak, in providing for every living being according to its faculties.

In that last phrase the Rambam is alluding to a profound example of Hashem's tzedakah. The Radak elaborates on this example in his commentary to Ashrei on the pesukim: "The eyes of all look to You with hope and You give them their food in its proper time. You open Your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing. Hashem is tzadik in all of His ways and kind in all of His deeds" (Tehilim 145:15-17). Radak [6] explains:

You have created all of the physical creatures below, and You have created their food - for there are those that eat vegetation, those that eat seeds, and those that eat other living creatures - and the eyes of all of them depend on You and hope towards You, "and You provide them with food in their time" (ibid.) via the chain of causality ... 

"Hashem is righteous," for He gives each one its food with righteousness and uprightness; even though one living being will prey upon and eat another living being - like a cat and a mouse, and a lion, and a bear, and a leopard, and the other wild animals who eat other wild animals, and the birds [of prey] who eat other birds - everything is with righteousness from Him, because He also provides food for the wild animals and birds who are preyed upon during their lifetime, but when their time comes to die, their death is "programmed" to happen in a manner that is beneficial for others.

We are inclined to think of Hashem's tzedakah in His interaction with human beings, but David ha'Melech points to the phenomenon of ecosystems as a prime example of Hashem's tzedakah. Each and every creature is provided with exactly what it needs to survive and thrive in a manner that sustains the whole. Even though the individual organisms will perish, the ecosystem as a whole perseveres, and each and every creature is taken care of. Hashem even equips each creature with its own methods of preserving its species. Hashem "opens His hand" via His systems of nature and provides "every living thing" with "dey machsoro asher yechsar lo - whatever it is lacking." 

It is in this sense that Hashem's tzedakah differs qualitatively from our tzedakah. Hashem created ALL creatures AND created the resources which sustain them AND created the laws of nature which govern the manner of their provision AND created the faculties that these animals use to obtain their food. In other words, the entire phenomenon of tzedakah vis a vis all living creatures "belongs" to Hashem, insofar as He is the Creator. 

In contrast, we human beings do NOT create the recipients of our tzedakah and do NOT create the resources they need and do NOT create the laws which govern the manner of their provision or the faculties by which they obtain their needs. Our only role is merely to act as the shluchim (agents) of His will who move the material resources from one place to another, in order to supply other humans with what they need from the resources that have been given to us by Hashem, in accordance with His laws. 

True tzedakah belongs to Hashem, and human tzedakah is but a pale shadow. This is what Daniel means when he says, "To You, my Lord, is the tzedakah." 

Answers to Question #3: Definition of Boshes ha'Panim

Generally speaking, "shame" refers to a painful feeling of humiliation that comes from the recognition that one has acted improperly. 

There are two types of shame: (1) the shame that one feels immediately upon doing something wrong or foolish, and (2) the shame that emerges at a later time, as an outcome of the teshuvah process, after recognizing the full extent of the mistake and the harm that it caused. For the sake of simplicity, let us refer to the first type as "reactive shame" and the second type as "reflective shame."

Reactive shame stems purely from the conscience. As such, it might have a valid basis, or it might be totally baseless. Reflective shame originates in the conscience, but is ultimately a result of self-knowledge. 

The conscience-saddled kid who gets caught with his hand in the cookie jar experiences a reactive shame. In the moment of shame, he's not necessarily thinking about the causes or consequences of his decision. The only thing that goes through his mind is: "Oh no! I got caught! SHAME!!! BAD!!! I'M BADDDD!!!" 

In contrast, the 25-year-old who thinks back to how he behaved when he was an immature 15-year-old is filled with a reflective shame. He thinks to himself, "My goodness, I can't believe I acted so foolishly, and said the types of things I said, and thought the types of things I thought! I was SOOO immature back then! I had no idea what was flying! Thank God I grew out of that phase and am a different person now!" 

According to my understanding, the type of shame that is part of the teshuvah process is the reflective type of shame. This is the type of shame that comes from the post-teshuvah recognition that "I am another person, and I am not the same person who did those actions." [7] This is the same which stems from knowledge - not mere guilt.

This "reflective shame" is the type of shame that Daniel was referring to, and that the paytan wrote about in each stanza of our kinah. It is a shame spurred by the recognition of how terribly our forefathers behaved despite the righteousness shown to them by Hashem, and how we have followed in their footsteps. (We will elaborate on this point in detail in our answer to Question #5.)

I suspect that the phrase "ours is the shamefacedness" is used as opposed to "ours is the shame" (without the "-facedness") because we aren't talking about specific instances of shameful actions. Rather, we are talking about our recognition of a trend of shamefulness which carried on for millennia - since Yetzias Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt) and on until the present day. Thus, not only do we experience sporadic bouts of shame from our actions and the actions of our forefathers, but this experience of shame has become a part of our very character. We have become shamefaced people because of our innumerable shameful actions. 

Answer to Question #4: Shamefacedness Belongs to Us

In our answer to Questions #1 and 2 we saw the definition of tzedakah and understood how there is a type of tzedakah that uniquely "belongs" to Hashem. Now that we have seen the definition of boshes ha'panim, how are we to understand the statement that "boshes ha'panim belongs to us"? In what sense is boshes ha'panim uniquely ours?

The answer can be found in Rashi's commentary [8] on our pasuk in Daniel:

ours is the shamefacedness - it is proper for us to be ashamed by what befell us, since we caused it to happen to ourselves.

There is only one phenomenon in this world which "belongs" entirely to us: our own free will. Chazal teach: "ha'kol bi'ydei shamayim chutz mi'yiras shamayim - everything is in the hands of heaven (i.e. in Hashem's control) except for fear of heaven (i.e. our free will)" (Berachos 33b). According to Rashi, our boshes ha'panim belongs entirely to us because we are the sole cause of our sins for which we have been punished.

The Rambam expands upon this point in his discussion of free will in Hilchos Teshuvah. After introducing the concept of free will and refuting the notion that a person's actions are predetermined, the Rambam [9] writes:

There is nothing which compels [man] or decrees upon him [to do a specific action], nor is there anything which pulls him to one of the two paths; rather he – by himself and with his mind – inclines himself to whichever path he desires. This is what Yirmiyahu said: “From the mouth of the Most High do not come forth the bad and the good” (Eichah 3:38), meaning to say, the Creator does not decree upon man, neither to be good nor to be bad.

Consequently, this sinner is the one who harms himself, and therefore it is appropriate for him to cry and bemoan that which he has done to himself, and the bad [consequences] he has brought upon his soul. This is what was written afterwards: “What should a living man bemoan? A man for his sins” (ibid. 3:39). [Yirmiyahu] then returns and says: since the choice is in our hands, and we committed all of this wickedness with our own minds, it is appropriate for us to return in teshuvah and to abandon our wickedness, for the choice is in our hands now; this is what was written afterwards: “Let us search and analyze our ways, and we will return unto Hashem” (ibid. 3:40).

We "own" our boshes ha'panim in the sense that we are the sole cause of our sins. We are completely responsible for what we have done and what we have suffered as a result. 

Answer to Question #5: Hashem's Tzedakah vs. Our Shame

Now we are almost in a position to understand the theme of this kinah. But there is one more point that is necessary to clarify with regards to tzedakah.

In our explanation of tzedakah we noted that Hashem's tzedakah expresses itself in the ecosystems of nature, which provide for all of the needs of the plants, animals, and other organisms therein. But Daniel's tefilah and our kinah are not about other organisms, but human beings - and Bnei Yisrael in particular! How does Hashem's tzedakah express itself in His relationship to Bnei Yisrael? 

The answer is that everything that Hashem has done for (and to) Bnei Yisrael has been for the sake of our development as a nation of truth-seeking human beings. Just as Hashem provides for the physical needs of His physical creations, so too, He provides for the metaphysical needs of His creations which have a metaphysical element (i.e. the tzelem Elokimi / soul / intellect). The Ralbag expresses this example of tzedakah beautifully in the introductory paragraph of his commentary on Torah:

Blessed and exalted be the Rock, Who, with His Understanding, His Wisdom, and His Knowledge, gives existence to all existing things – the existence of which manifests a chochmah (wisdom) and chaninah (beneficence) that none but He can completely apprehend. Praised be the Creator, Who, out of His desire to benefit these existences and to bring them from deficient existence to complete existence, directed His hashgachah (providence) upon these lowly existences, developing them stage by stage until He reached the existence of man. In addition to directing His hashgachah on man’s existence in the wondrous design of his anatomy, his abilities, and the faculties by which his [physical] existence is preserved, He did not refrain from directing His hashgachah on man by guiding him on the path to true perfection – man’s ultimate state of existence, for the sake of which this lowly material existence was endowed with tzurah (design) to the extent that it is. He did this by giving us the divine Torah, which is a nimus (regimen) that brings those who practice it properly to the true success.

With the other physical organisms on earth Hashem DID stop at providing them with "the wondrous design of their anatomy, their abilities, and the faculties by which their physical existence is preserved," since their existence is purely physical. But in the case of mankind, Hashem did NOT stop with providing us with the tools to preserve our physical existence, but He also gave us a tool (i.e. the Torah) to ensure that we develop the metaphysical aspect of our existence as well. 

All of the instances of hashgachah throughout Bnei Yisrael's history - from the Avos, through Yetzias Mitzrayim, to the giving of the Torah at Sinai, to the sojourn in the Midbar (Wilderness), to the conquest of Eretz Yisrael and beyond - all of these events were for the sake of our spiritual development. 

This, I believe, is the framework in which we are intended to read Kinah #19. Each stanza identifies an instance of Hashem's tzedakah (i.e. the steps He took to facilitate our development as a nation of truth-seekers). In each case, not only did Bnei Yisrael neglect to avail themselves of this divine assistance, but they went in the opposite direction, by their own free will. This pattern of national regression, despite Hashem's tzedakah-driven efforts to assist us, is truly shameful. And because we only have ourselves to blame, the boshes ha'panim is ours. 

Rather than walk through the entire kinah, I've selected a few examples which showcase this approach:

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah, because You have taken [our] nation from amidst another nation, with miracles; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because of the hypocrisy to be found within us as we emulated [Egypt's abominable] deeds.

Prior to Yetzias Mitzrayim Bnei Yisrael had all but assimilated into Egyptian society; our once distinct cultural-ideological identity was hanging by a few threads. But because He promised Avraham that He would redeem his offspring, Hashem intervened in our national fate, differentiated between Israel and Egypt, gave us mitzvos (Pesach and milah), took us out with a strong hand and an outstretched arm, and redeemed us as His people. "Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah." And how did we respond? By repeatedly longing to return to Egypt, complaining about the Exodus, and emulating the behaviors of the abominable nation from whom we were extracted. "ours is the boshes ha'panim."

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah, when we recall the proclamation, "You are witnesses, and I am God!"; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because we blasphemed Hashem in [the Wilderness of] Sin [when we demanded of Aharon,] "Arise and create a god for us!" 

When we stood at Sinai, the entire nation witnessed Hashem speaking to Moshe. At that moment we became witnesses to the reality of "I am Hashem, your God ... you shall not have other gods before Me" (Shemos 20:2-3). No other nation ever has or ever will hear the voice of God speaking to an entire nation as Bnei Yisrael did on that day. He did this for us to establish the foundation of Toras Moshe, the reality of nevuah (prophecy), and to instill a national experience of yiras Hashem (fear of God) - all for the sake of our national development as "a kingdom of priests and a holy nation" (ibid. 19:6). "Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah." And how did we respond? Less than 40 days later, we turned our backs on the truth we had witnessed, made our own gods, and demanded to be taken back to Egypt. "ours is the boshes ha'panim."

Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah, because You provided us with the mahn, the well, and the pillar of clouds; and ours is the boshes ha'panim, because our forefathers grumbled in their tents about [the mahn and called it] the destructive bread. 

Had we been left to fend for ourselves during our sojourn in the Midbar - "an unsown land" (Yirmiyahu 2:2)  - we would have died in a matter of days. But Hashem, in His abundant mercy, sustained us, nourished us, and protected us in a miraculous manner. Not only did He care for our physical needs, but by giving us mitzvos and lessons which pertained to our daily "bread," He attempted to refine us spiritually as well. "Yours, my Lord, is the tzedakah." And how did we respond? Like a spoiled child: by taking His kindness for granted, complaining about the journey and the miraculous food, and lacking trust that He would protect us. "ours is the boshes ha'panim."

The other stanzas can be learned in a similar manner. In this kinah we lament the fact that our forefathers neglected all of the developmental tools and experiences that Hashem provided and ran in the opposite direction, away from "the true success" towards oblivion. And if we are honest with ourselves, we will recognize these same flaws in ourselves, and that these flaws are what continues to hold us back from the teshuvah that is required for the ultimate redemption.

Another Approach ... Next Time

When I was learning through this kinah with my chavrusa we stumbled upon what we believe is a deeper way of learning the idea of the refrain - specifically, the meaning of "ours is the boshes ha'panim." However, due to the length of this post - and the fact that it is currently 11pm on the night of Tishah b'Av - I think it would best if we left this alternative interpretation for another blog post.

[1] On a methodological note: ordinarily I would seek to understand this pasuk in its context, and then use that insight to guide my understanding of how the paytan used it in his kinah. In this case, I tried that, but didn't get very far. So instead, I just focused on the words of the pasuk and ignored the context. 
[2] Some might object to Questions #2 and 4, saying, "I don't think these are really questions. The phrases 'to you' and 'to us' is just an idiom. It's not expressing a notion that righteousness belongs to Hashem or that shamefacedness belongs to us. It's just saying that Hashem is righteous and we are ashamed!" I worried about this possibility as well. But then I found a midrash in Shemos Rabbah (Ki Sisa 41) which interprets our pasuk in Daniel in terms of ownership, comparing to the pasuk, "To Hashem belongs the earth and its fullness" (Tehilim 24:6), which it then expounds, saying, "The earth is His, the fruits are His, etc." To my mind, Chazal's juxtaposition of these two pesukim is a sufficient basis for reading our pasuk in Daniel as "tzedakah belongs to You" and "shamefacedness belongs to us" rather than "Hashem is righteous" and "we are shamefaced."
[3] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Moreh ha'Nevuchim 3:53
[4] It is difficult to know what the Rambam means by this word, since he wrote the Moreh ha'Nevuchim in Arabic and is trying to define a Hebrew term with an Arabic term.
[5] The Rambam actually gives a different reason why helping others is tzedakah, but that is beyond the scope of this blog post.
[6] Rabbeinu David Kimchi (Radak), Commentary on Sefer Tehilim 145:15,17
[7] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah; Sefer ha'Mada, Hilchos Teshuvah 2:4
[8] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Daniel 9:7. I feel I should add that this answer was suggested by my chavrusa before we saw the Rashi. 
[9] ibid. 5:2

Mikdash, Moadim, and Tzedakah

I set out to write a blog post on a Shavuos related theme, but I realized that this idea doubles as a blog post on Parashas Emor and Parashas Kedoshim (hence the modified title below). This post was difficult to write since the themes it treats are so broad. Hopefully I did it justice.

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Artwork: Plains (Kaladesh), by Clint Cearley

Parashas Emor/Kedoshim: Mikdash, Moadim, and Tzedakah

Parashas Emor is the first comprehensive presentation of the moadim (holidays). The Torah walks us through each of the moadim, providing us with details about their dates, their korbanos, their mitzvos, and - in some cases - their themes.

After completing the presentation of Shavuos, the pesukim take an unexpected detour before moving on to Rosh ha'Shanah. Here is the passage in context:

You shall count for yourselves - from the morrow of the rest day, from the day when you bring the Omer of the waving - seven weeks, they shall be complete. Until the morrow of the seventh week you shall count, fifty days; and you shall offer a new meal-offering to Hashem. From your dwelling places you shall bring bread that shall be waved, two loaves made of two tenth-ephah, they shall be fine flour, they shall be baked leavened; first-offerings to Hashem ... You shall convoke on this very day - there shall be a holy convocation for yourselves - you shall do no laborious work; it is an eternal decree in your dwelling places for your generations. When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not remove completely the corners of your field as you reap and you shall not gather the gleanings of your harvest; for the poor and the convert shall you leave them; I am Hashem, your God. (Vayikra 23:15-21)

Right in the middle of its presentation of the moadim is a reminder about the agricultural tzedakah mitzvos of peah (leaving the corners of the fields unharvested) and leket (leaving the ears of grain that fall to the ground). This unclaimed produce was left to be gathered by the poor, the convert, and the other downtrodden individuals, thereby ensuring their sustenance in a systemic nationwide manner. 

The commentators are bothered by the glaring question: What are these non-moadim-related mitzvos doing in the middle of the Torah's presentation of the moadim? It would be one thing if this were the primary place where the Torah discusses peah and leket, but it's not. In fact, these mitzvos were introduced a few chapters earlier, in Parashas Kedoshim. Their appearance here is clearly intended as a context-specific reminder. Why is this reminder needed?

Rashi [1] cites a midrash from Toras Kohanim [2] which explicitly addresses this question, albeit in a cryptic fashion:

Rav Avdimi b'Rebbi Yossi said: Why did the Torah see fit to place this [reminder] in the middle of the festivals, with Pesach and Atzeres on one side and Rosh ha'Shanah, Yom ha'Kippurim, and Sukkos on the other side? To teach you that anyone who properly gives leket, peah, and shichechah [3] to the poor - it is considered as though he built the Beis ha'Mikdash and brought its korbanos in it.

This answer raises yet another question: How are the mitzvos of leket, peah, and shichechah equivalent to building the Beis ha'Mikdash and offering korbanos in it? The two categories of mitzvos don't even seem related: the former pertains to the realm of agriculture and tzedakah in everyday life, while the latter pertains to the avodah of the kohanim in the world of Mikdash!

The Ibn Ezra provides us with a clue - not in Parashas Emor, but in Parashas Kedoshim, where these mitzvos first appear. The pesukim there follow a similar pattern:

When you slaughter a feast peace-offering to Hashem, you shall slaughter it to find favor for yourselves. On the day of your slaughter shall it be eaten and on the next day, and whatever remains until the third day, it is rejected - it shall not be accepted. Each of those who eat it will bear his iniquity, for what is sacred to Hashem has he desecrated; and that soul shall be cut off from its people. When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not complete your reaping to the corner of your field, and the gleanings of your harvest you shall not take. You shall not pick the undeveloped twigs of your vineyard; and the fallen fruit of your vineyard you shall not gather; for the poor and the convert shall you leave them - I am Hashem, your God. (Vayikra 19:5-10)

Here, too, we see halachos of korbanos followed by a mention of the agricultural mitzvos of leket and peah. The Ibn Ezra [4] remarks on this juxtaposition:

The meaning of "when you reap the harvest" after [these laws of] slaughtering a peace offering [is as follows:] just as you have given the parts of the korban to Hashem, so too, you shall give to the poor and to the convert from the harvest of your land - for the sake of kavod Hashem (honoring Hashem).

Ibn Ezra identifies the common denominator between korbanos and the agricultural mitzvos: they all result in a kiyum (effect/fulfillment) of kavod Hashem. The question is: How?

We tend to think about tzedakah in the framework of kindness, righteousness, and justice - not in the framework of honoring Hashem. This underappreciated aspect of tzedakah is referenced in at least one pasuk: "Honor Hashem with your wealth, and with the first of all your produce" (Mishlei 3:9). Ralbag [5] explains:

"Honor Hashem with your wealth" in the same way as the Torah commands you to give the first of all your produce, seeds, and fruits as gifts to the Kohanim and Leviim for the wondrous benefit of guiding you to recognize that all good things flow from Hashem.

Similarly, Ralbag [6] writes that the purpose of the Mikdash and its korbanos is:

... to guide us to believe in the Existence of God, Lord of all, and that it is proper for Him to be worshiped, for everything is from Him, and therefore we are obligated to honor Him with our wealth; He is of the utmost greatness and glory, and for this reason we make for Him this Mikdash which wondrous in its beauty, artistry, and quality of construction.

Herein lies the connection between the tzedakah-mitzvos of peah, leket, and shichechah, and the purpose of the Mikdash and its korbanos. Mikdash exists for the kavod Hashem, to bring all human beings to the recognition of His Existence, His Malchus (Kingship), and His beneficence which extends to all of His creatures. All of the korbanos and matanos (gifts) we bring to the Mikdash reinforce this recognition. The requirement to give of the fruits of our labor counteracts the kochi v'otzem yadi ("my might and the power of my hand made me this wealth") mentality by prompting us to realize that all of the good we enjoy comes from Hashem, and that "He opens His hand and satisfies the desire of every living thing" (cf. Tehilim 145:16).

However, it is not enough merely to know that Hashem is the Cause of the good. This knowledge must be real to us to the extent that it affects our actions, and compels us to emulate His ways. We were not created to be passive admirers and observers of the Creator, but to be active agents of His Will to do chesed, mishpat, and tzedakah on earth. To praise Hashem for His beneficence and not emulate His ways would be hypocritical, and would constitute a pgam (blemish) in His kavod. By observing these agricultural mitzvos as agents of His will to do chesed, mishat, and tzedakah, we are enhancing His kavod by demonstrating the extent to which the Melech cares for His subjects. By fulfilling the mitzvos of leket, peah, and shichechah, we are demonstrating through our actions that God not only provides for our needs, but He guarantees the provision of the needs of those unfortunate individuals who live on the fringes of society.

This kiyum of kavod Hashem is only complete when both components - Mikdash and tzedakah - are fulfilled in concert with each other. To only discharge our duties vis a vis Mikdash would constitute a recognition of Hashem as ha'Tov ve'ha'Meitiv (the One Who is Good and does good), but the benefit of that recognition would be limited to our own minds, and would not impact the world around us. Likewise, to only fulfill our tzedakah duties would be good insofar as our implementation of chesed, mishpat, and tzedakah in the world are concerned, but our actions would not reflect the recognition that all of the goodness and blessing we enjoy comes from Hashem. The proper framework is only achieved by doing both sets of mitzvos in conjunction with each other, and only then do we achieve the full kiyum of kavod Hashem.

This, I believe, is what the midrash in Toras Kohanim cited by Rashi is getting at. The proper fulfillment of the mitzvos of leket, peah, and shichechah complements the proper fulfillment of the mitzvos of Mikdash and its korbanos. Both sets of mitzvos bring us to an awareness that Hashem is the Cause of all good. The act of giving of tzedakah to the poor produces the same kiyum as building the Mikdash and bringing its korbanos - provided that one is aware of this idea.

In answering our question in his commentary on our pesukim, the Ralbag [7] emphasizes that this idea is especially true in relation to the specific mitzvos associated with Shavuos, namely, the minchas ha'omer (Barley Offering brought after Pesach) and the Shtei ha'Lechem (Two Loaves brought on Shavuos):

This [reminder of leket and peah] came in this place to teach us that for the same reason that Hashem commanded us to offer the Minchas ha'Omer and the Shtei ha'Lechem from the new harvest - namely, to remind us that everything comes from Hashem - He also commanded us to provide benefit from this [harvest] to the poor before it comes into our possession, in order to remind us that this comes from Hashem, and He desired us to provide the poor with their portion and ourselves with the remainder, for everything comes from Him.

Since Shavuos is the Harvest Festival (as will be explained in our next post), the pesukim about Shavuos is the most appropriate place to remind us of this relationship between the agricultural mitzvos and Mikdash, though the idea is pertinent to all moadim and all korbanos in Mikdash year-round.

[1] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Vayikra 23:22
[2] Toras Kohanim 13:12
[3] "shichechah" is another mitzvah in the same category as leket and peah. We are required to leave "forgotten" bundles of grain in the field to be claimed by the poor. Since it's in the same family as leket and peah, I'm going to continue to mention it along with them for the remainder of this post, even if all three aren't specified by the meforshim.
[4] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra (Ibn Ezra), Commentary on Vayikra 19:9
[5] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides) Commentary on Sefer Mishlei 3:9

[6] ibid. Commentary on Sefer Shemos 25, ha'toeles ha'shelishi
[7] ibid. Commentary on Sefer Vayikra 23:22

Megilas Rus: A Different Kind of Stinginess

Here's my second post on Megilas Rus. When I set out to write this post I was fairly certain of the veracity of the theory I planned on writing about. But as I set up the problem, I realized that this needed more work. Thankfully, I was able to incorporate my uncertainty into the post and fully express the idea while leaving the question open. Let me know if you find a good answer!

Artwork: Pious Evangel // Wayward Disciple
(My image of Elimelech when he was living in Eretz Yisrael before the famine,
and after the famine, when he fled to Moav.)

Megilas Rus: A Different Kind of Stinginess

Megilas Rus begins with the flight of Elimelech and his family, and the tragedy that followed:

And it happened in the days when the judges judged, that there was a famine in the land, and a man went from Beis-Lechem in Yehuda to sojourn in the fields of Moav - he, his wife, and his two sons. The name of the man was Elimelech, the name of his wife Naomi, and the name of his two sons Machlon and Chilyon, Ephrathites of Beis-Lechem in Yehuda. They came to the field of Moav and there they remained. Elimelech, Naomi's husband, died; and she was left with her two sons. They married Moabite women; the name of the one was Orpah, and the name of the second was Rus, and they lived there for about ten years. The two of them, Machlon and Chilyon, also died; and the woman was left of her two children and of her husband.

In this post we will focus on two basic questions: (1) Why did Elimelech leave Eretz Yisrael? (2) Why did he die?

Rashi answers both questions in one shot:

a man went - [Elimelech] was a very wealthy man, and was a leader of his generation. [However,] he left Eretz Yisrael for Chutza la'Aretz because of his stinginess (tzarus ha'ayin); he was stingy when the poor people came to pressure him [to give money,] and this is why he was punished.

A cursory reading of Rashi might lead one to conclude that Elimelech was guilty of your "run-of-the-mill stinginess," just like any other person who is unwilling to give money to the poor. The Malbim helps us to appreciate the complexity of Elimelech's cheit by painting a more complete picture of the circumstances:

During the days of famine, the multitude of the poor would converge on the wealthy and compel them to provide bread and grain - and if not, they would take it by force, since there was no king to instill fear in them. This is what caused "[the] man to depart from Beis Lechem Yehuda to sojourn in the fields of Moav." Since he was a wealthy man, he was afraid that the poor people would seize upon him and loot everything that he had.

The Malbim almost does too good of a job explaining Elimelech's rationale for leaving. He makes it seem like Elimelech had a legitimate cause for concern, and that he wasn't necessarily wrong in leaving. But if we read further, we realize that this wasn't the case:

But even though this was a time of misfortune and despair, only [this] one man left [the country]; the other wealthy people did not join him in leaving Eretz Yisrael to outside of the land. Even the members of Elimelech's household didn't leave by their own volition, for they didn't want to abandon their beloved land; only his wife and his two sons, who were subordinate to him, were compelled to follow after him. 

If Elimelech's decision to leave Eretz Yisrael stemmed from a real concern, why was he the only one who left? Wouldn't the other rich people have taken similar precautions to protect their wealth? Furthermore, wouldn't the other members of Elimelech's family be on board with this decision if it were really in their best interests? Rather, it would seem that Elimelech's rationale for leaving was merely a pretext for stinginess.

Lastly, we turn to the midrash in Rus Rabbah, which adds one more layer of complexity to our analysis of Elimelech's cheit:

Why was Elimelech punished? Because he struck despair into the hearts of Israel. He was like a prominent man who dwelt in a certain country, and the people of that country depended upon him and said that if the years of drought came, he could supply the whole country with food for ten years. When the drought came, however, his maidservant went out and stood in the market place with her basket in her hand. And the people of the country said, "This is the man upon whom we depended that if a drought should come he would sustain us for ten years, and yet, here his maidservant stands in the marketplace with her basket in her hand!" So with Elimelech: he was one of the prominent members of his place and one of the leaders of his generation, but when the famine came he said, "Now all Israel will come knocking at my door, each one with his basket." He therefore arose and fled from them. This is the meaning of the verse, "And a certain man of Beis Lechem went."

According to the midrash, it would seem that Elimelech's stinginess differed from the norm. A regular stingy person never gives to charity. In contrast, Elimelech had built up such a reputation for generosity that the people of his generation felt they would be able to depend on him to sustain them if the need ever arose. It was only when the famine struck that Elimelech's stinginess kicked in, even to the point where his maidservant would be begging on the street.

So what was the nature of Elimelech's stinginess? Why was he willing to use his money for tzedakah before the famine, but not after?

Honestly, I can't say for sure. My chavrusas and I discussed a number of possibilities, but they were too speculative and/or problematic for us to be satisfied with our conclusions. However, I would like to present an idea about stinginess that we came up with in thinking about the question. Whether or not this idea has anything to do with Elimelech is an open question. 

In the final chapter of the Moreh ha'Nevuchim the Rambam writes about the four kinds of perfection that man can acquire:

The first kind, the lowest, which most people spend most of their days trying to acquire, is perfection of material possessions: the possession of money, garments, furniture, servants, land, and the like; the possession of the title of a great king also belongs to this class. There is no real connection between this possession and its possessor at all; it is a totally circumstantial relationship, and most of the pleasure derived from it is totally imaginary. By that I am referring to when a person says, “This is my house! This is my servant! This is my money! And these are my hosts and armies!” For when he examines himself he will find that all these things are external, and their qualities are entirely independent of the possessor. When, therefore, that relation ceases, he who has been a great king may one morning find that there is no difference between him and the lowest person, and yet no change has taken place in the things which were ascribed to him. The philosophers have shown that he whose sole aim in all his exertions and endeavors is the possession of this kind of perfection, only seeks perfectly imaginary and transient things; and even if these remain his property all his lifetime, they do not give him any perfection.

The wealthy individual can easily fall into the trap of regarding his wealth as a quality of himself, rather than a feature of his circumstances. People say "I am rich" when they really mean "I have wealth." In truth, the connection between themselves and their wealth is purely imaginary.

We need not elaborate on how destructive this mentality can be. Not only does it inflate the wealthy person's ego and sense of entitlement, but it renders him even more vulnerable to the fallacy of "kochi v'otzem yadi," and all of its consequences.

At the same time, this distorted view of wealth can serve as a beneficial lo lishmah (ulterior motive) for mtizvos and maasim tovim (good deeds). There are many philanthropists out there who get an ego-boost from giving tzedakah, and whose charity is fueled by the feeling that they - not Hashem - are the sustainers of the poor. When they give, they think to themselves, whether consciously or unconsciously, "Look at how I am benefiting the poor!" "See how dependent they are on me!" Sure, these aren't the most noble motives, but like any lo lishmah, they're good insofar as they get the mitzvah done.

Now, imagine a wealthy person who is operating under this type of lo lishmah. So long as the poor people continue to look favorably upon him and enable him to feel good about his generosity, then his lo lishmah will remain intact, and he will continue to give.

But when famine strikes and the people become desperate, things change. When our hypothetical philanthropist hears the mob threatening to break down his door, and when he sees the hunger and need in their eyes, then the truth stated by the Rambam becomes undeniably apparent: "there is no real connection between this possession and its possessor at all." He realizes: "These people don't need me; they need my money ... and if push comes to shove, they'll be willing to cast me aside in order to take what they need by force."

This realization totally shatters the lo lishmah. No longer can the philanthropist derive ego-gratification from thinking about how he is needed by so many people. Once he realizes that he is nothing but an obstacle between the mob outside of his door and the money in his vaults, his motivation for giving tzedakah completely dissolves.

This, I believe, is a plausible explanation for how a person might be exceedingly charitable when times are good, but become tightfisted when the tides turn.

Did Elimelech, himself, succumb to this trap? Is this why he was so willing to give of his money under normal circumstances, but panicked and became overly protective of his money the famine struck? Is this the type of cheit that would be worthy of death, as the midrashim seem to imply? I cannot say. A lot of this depends on how high of a level one assumes that Elimelech was on, and how the hashgachah relates to people in his position.

But even if we haven't explained the cheit of Elimelech, at least we have come away with an insight into this peculiar type of foul-weather stinginess.