Adler: On Animal Speech and Animal Intelligence

In my recent post, Do Babies Have Souls? (Ibn Ezra), I presented the Ibn Ezra's idea that man's soul (i.e. his ability to think rationally) and his ability to speak are correlated; as one develops, so does the other. A friend of mine asked me whether the Ibn Ezra was referring specifically to the ability to speak, or to the ability to communicate? When I answered that it was the latter, he asked me about animals that can communicate (e.g. monkeys who have been taught sign language). 

I thought that this might be a good time to (re)post three excerpts from the writings of Mortimer J. Adler, in which he addresses the differences between animal speech and human speech, as well as animal thought and human thought. These excerpts were originally published as two separate blog posts in June and August of 2007.

Artwork: Connection, by Yuumei

The Difference of Man and the Difference it Makes (1967, 1993)

Chapter 9: The Pivotal Issue: Language and Thought, p.136-138

The second critical point made by these contemporary philosophers, and by such scientists as Crichtley and White, turns on their making a sharp distinction between perceptual and conceptual thought. This distinction is implicit in the observation that animal thinking is confined to the perceptual present, whereas human thinking transcends the immediate environment and extends not only to objects in the remote past and the remote future but also to objects that have no temporal locus whatsoever. Precisely because they are incapable of conceptual thought, animals, these writers contend, are not only (1) incapable of sentence-making that includes statements about the past and future, (2) unable to fabricate tools for remote future use, (3) devoid of a cumulative cultural inheritance that constitutes a long historical tradition, but they are also (4) incapable of any behavior that is not rooted in the perceptually apprehended present situation.

Animals can certainly think, in the sense of learning from experience, generalizing, discriminating, and abstracting, solving problems by trial and error or by insight, and even, as Price, following Hume, points out, making inductive inferences from empirically learned cues or signals. The evidence is both plain and ample that they can think in all these ways. But it is equally plain from the observations of their behavior, in the laboratory or in the field, that they cannot think in any of the following ways: they cannot think about objects that are not perceptually present as well as about those that are; and with regard to objects of thought, present or absent, they cannot make judgments or engage in reasoning (i.e., think that such and such is or is not the case, or think that if such and such is the case, then so and so is not) ...

Bennett argues that animal learning and problem-solving, whether by trial and error or by insight, does not involve any of the steps that constitute human reasoning from experience - the process whereby human beings either establish an empirical conclusion or refute one. Since that always involves the separate acknowledgment of a timeless universal, on the one hand, and of particular instances of past occurrence, on the other, animals, whose apprehensions are limited to the immediate perceptual present, cannot possibly engage in the kind of thinking that consists in giving reasons pro and con. And, Bennet further contends, behavior that involves giving or receiving reasons cannot be causally explained by reference to empirical sequences. In his view, there can be no behavioristic account of human rational behavior, as there can be of animal learning and problem-solving, in terms of causal connections between stimuli and responses or by reference to the causes at work in the formation of the conditioned responses or the imprintings that represent the modifications of animal behavior through repeated experience ...

Ten Philosophical Mistakes (1985)

Chapter 2: The Intellect and the Senses, p.50-53

Since Darwin’s day, experimentation with animals in psychological laboratories has turned up much additional evidence that has been regarded as reinforcing this conclusion [namely, that man differs from animal only in degree, not in kind]. It has been interpreted as showing that other animals have concepts as well as percepts, even if they do not have intellects in the traditional sense of that term. Accompanying this attribution of conceptual intelligence to other animals has been the attribution to them of linguistic performances that are said to differ only in degree from the human use of language.

... I will concentrate here on the misinterpretation of the evidence that is supposed to show that other animals have concepts that enable them to deal with generalities as well as particulars.

To put the matter briefly, the experimental evidence does show that other animals, under laboratory conditions, can learn to discriminate between different kinds of perceived objects. They learn to react in one way to squares and in another to circles, for example; or to eat what is placed on a green surface and to avoid what is placed on a red surface. Such discriminations indicate that they are able to generalize, and this is made the basis for attributing concepts as well as percepts to them.

The error here consists in thinking that to be able to discriminate between different kinds of objects is tantamount to being able to understand distinct kinds and their differences. To regard an animal’s ability to discriminate between perceived similarities and dissimilarities as evidence of conceptual thought on the animal’s part involves an equivocal use of the word “concept.”

Strictly used, concepts are (a) acquired dispositions to recognize perceived objects as being of this kind or of that kind, and at the same time (b) to understand what this kind or that kind of object is like, and consequently (c) to perceive a number of perceived particulars as being the same in kind and to discriminate between them and other sensible particulars that are different in kind.

In addition, concepts are acquired dispositions to understand what certain kinds of objects are like both (a) when the objects, though perceptible, are not actually perceived, and (b) also when they are not perceptible at all, as is the case with all the conceptual constructs we employ in physics, mathematics, and metaphysics.

There is no empirical evidence whatsoever that concepts, thus precisely defined, are present in animal behavior. Their intelligence is entirely sensory. Its operations are limited to the world of perceptual objects and imaginable ones. What lies beyond perception and imagination is totally beyond the powers of the animal mind or intelligence. Only animals with intellects, only members of the human species, have the conceptual powers that enable them to deal with the unperceived, the imperceptible, and the unimaginable ...

Chapter 3: Words and Meanings (Section 6)

In their study of the evidence of animal communication, [animal psychologists and behavioral scientists] seldom if ever note the difference between signs that function merely as signals and signs that function as designators – as names that refer to objects. Almost all of the cries, sounds, gestures, that animals in the wild, and domesticated animals as well, use to express their emotions and desires, serve as signals, not as designators. It is only in the laboratory and under experimental conditions, often with very ingeniously contrived special apparatus, that such higher mammals as chimpanzees and bottle-nosed dolphins appear to be communicating by using words as if they were names, and even to be making sentences by putting them together with some vestige of syntax.

The appearance is then misinterpreted by the scientists as a basis for asserting that the only difference between animal and human language is one of degree, not of kind – a difference in the number of name words in an animal’s vocabulary and difference in the complexity of the utterances that are taken to be sentences.

This misinterpretation arises from the neglect or ignorance, on the part of the scientists, of the difference between perceptual and conceptual thought. That, in turn, stems from their failure to acknowledge the difference between the senses and the intellect or their denial that the difference exists ... 

While there is evidence that chimpanzees under experimental conditions do use artificially contrived signs to designate or name things, the things they name are all perceptual objects. There is not a single piece of evidence showing their ability to use signs to designate what is not perceived through their senses or what lies totally beyond the sensible realm and is intrinsically imperceptible ...

The animal’s behavior manifests different reactions to objects that are different in kind. But the kinds of things that animals appear to differentiate are all kinds of which there are perceptual instances in the animal’s experience. Humans differentiate kinds or classes of which there either are no perceptual instances in their experience or of which there cannot be any. This is the distinguishing characteristic of conceptual thought and the irrefutable evidence of the presence of intellect in man and of its absence in brutes.

One further observation, if it were made by the animal psychologists, might open their eyes to the difference in kind, not degree, between human language and the acquirement by animals of signs that appear to function as designative names. It involves the distinction, already made, between a word acquiring its designative meaning through direct perceptual acquaintance with the object named and the acquirement of meaning by means of a verbal description, as when a child learns the meaning of the word “kindergarten” by being told that it is a place where children get together to play and learn.

In all the experimental work done on animals, there is no instance where a sign that an animal uses gets is meaning from a collocation of other signs that purport to express its meaning. In every case, a new sign that is introduced into the animal’s vocabulary becomes meaningful through being attached to a perceptual object with which the animal has direct acquaintance.

If the students of animal behavior had engaged in their observations and experiments with a recognition of the difference between perceptual and conceptual thought, and with an acknowledgment that humans have intellect as well as senses, whereas animals lack intellects, they would not be so prone to ignore or deny the difference in kind between the human and animal use of signs as names or designators.

Mishlei 18:23 - The Supplications of the Poor and the Brazenness of the Rich

משלי יח:כג

תַּחֲנוּנִים יְדַבֶּר רָשׁ וְעָשִׁיר יַעֲנֶה עַזּוֹת:

Mishlei 18:23
A poor man speaks [with] supplications, and a rich man responds with brazenness.

Major Questions / Difficulties

1. Why does the first half of the pasuk have to tell us that a poor man will speak with supplication? Isn't this obvious? What is the chidush (new insight)?
2. What, exactly, does the pasuk mean by "responds with brazenness"? 
3. Why does the rich man respond with brazenness? 
4. What scenario is the pasuk talking about? Mishlei usually compares two individuals' decisions in the same decision-making scenario. If that is the case here, what is that scenario? Or is this pasuk describing an interaction between the poor man and the rich man - as it would seem from the use of the word "responds"?
5. Which consequences/benefits is Mishlei pointing out here? Remember that Mishlei is a book about how to make good decisions and avoid bad ones. This pasuk doesn't spell out the ramifications of the decisions being made here. 
6. To whom is this pasuk addressed? Is it giving advice to the poor man about how to speak to the rich man? Is the pasuk rebuking the rich man for how he treats the poor? 
7. What is the subject of this pasuk?

Four Sentence Summary of the Main Idea (According to Rabbeinu Yonah)

When performing a cost/benefit analysis of wealth and poverty, it is easy to focus exclusively on the financial dimension and lose sight of the fact that wealth and poverty have a detrimental effect on a person's middos (character traits) as well. Poverty often spawns detrimental middos, such as subservience (since he is dependent on them for his livelihood), fear of people (insofar as he feels that his fate is in their hands), flattery (since he constantly needs to beg for money), and other degenerate qualities. Likewise, the rich man becomes brazen, arrogant, harsh in his speech, wise in his own eyes, stubborn, and all of the other negative traits which arise from an inflated ego. For this reason, the wise man will pray: "give me neither poverty nor wealth, but provide me with my daily allotment of bread" (Mishlei 30:8) - not only because this makes sense in its own right, but because he is concerned about the harmful ethical effects of wealth and poverty on his character.  

Four Sentence Summary of the Main Idea (According to Us)

A poor man thinks that the best way to ask a rich man for money is to supplicate, in order to awaken the rich man’s mercy and arouse his pity. This is a mistake which will likely backfire: pity stems from identification with the other person, and if the poor man makes himself seem too wretched and needy, the rich man will be repelled, for it he will find it too painful, frightening, and abhorrent to see himself in the poor man’s shoes, and all hope of empathy will be lost. On the other hand, if the poor man is too assertive and demanding, he is sure to tread on the rich man’s ego, and once that happens, there is no way that the rich man will want to help him. The key is to strike a perfect balance: to cater to the rich man’s ego by making him feel like a proud and powerful benefactor, while being careful not to make himself seem too pitiful or too bold – both of which would pose a threat to the rich man’s ego.

Do Babies Have Souls? (Ibn Ezra)

I must preface this post with a disclaimer: I don't understand what a "soul" is. Years ago I used to think I understood the Torah's view on the concept of "soul," but the more I learned, the more I realized the breadth and depth of the topic, and of my own ignorance and metaphysical naiveté. 

Here is what I do know:

1. The word "soul" is used equivocally. It can mean different things in different contexts. Although there are different words for "soul" (e.g. nefesh, ruach, neshamah), even these terms aren't necessarily consistent in their usage, and each must be interpreted based on its context. 
   
   
2. The human soul has something to do with the tzelem Elokim, which has something to do with the human intellect, but I am at a loss to explain how these three things are related.
   
   
3. There is also some relationship between the human soul and free will, and I find free will to be an even more daunting topic than the soul.
   
   
4. There is a lot of machlokes on this topic among the meforshim, and it is very difficult to discern which of the meforshim are working with the same premises and which of them are working with a completely different set of premises.

And that's about it. Beyond these four points, I feel that I am still "groping in darkness and not in light ... staggering like a drunkard" (cf. Iyov 12:24-25) on this topic. 

Thus, I have decided to take the same approach with this subject as I did with Sefer Mishlei: rather than trying to form grand theories and a complete understanding of the topic, I will instead approach the topic step by step, one idea at a time. If I (am zocheh to) do this for a number of decades, perhaps a clearer picture will begin to emerge. 

Having said all of that, I would like to present one idea about the soul from the Ibn Ezra. Please regard this as merely a clue in our investigation of the vast mystery story of the soul.

Do Babies Have Souls? (Ibn Ezra)

That's the question. How would you answer it on a multiple choice quiz with these choices?

          (A) yes
          (B) no
          (C) maybe
          (D) potentially

Let's cut right to the chase. According to the Ibn Ezra, the answer is (D) potentially. Or, to be more precise, babies have potential souls - not actual souls.

The Ibn Ezra states his view in his commentary on Tehilim 8:3. Here is the perek in its entirety:

(1) For the conductor, on the gittis, a psalm by David. (2) Hashem, our Master, how mighty is Your Name throughout the earth, [You] Who places Your majesty on the heavens. (3) Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings You have established strength, because of Your enemies, to silence foe and avenger. (4) When I behold Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars that You have set in place, [I think,] (5) "What is frail man that You should remember him, and the son of mortal man that You should be mindful of him?" (6) Yet, You have made him but slightly less than the angels, and crowned him with glory and splendor. (7) You give him dominion over Your handiwork, You placed everything under his feet: (8) sheep and cattle, all of them, even the beasts of the field; (9) the birds of the sky and the fish of the sea; for [man] even traverses the lanes of the sea. (10) Hashem, our Master, how mighty is Your Name throughout the earth!

The question on our pasuk is: How is Hashem's strength established through "the mouths of babes and sucklings"? What does this even mean? 

Ibn Ezra begins by quoting the explanation of R' Moshe ha'Darshan, who learns that the pasuk is referring to the literal mouths of the babies, through which they obtain nourishment:

R' Moshe says that out of the mouth of babes means that the babes themselves will praise You even though they cannot speak, for You sustain them. You make them fruitful and You multiply and increase their body’s height and width.

Rabbi H. Norman Strickman, in his footnotes on the Ibn Ezra's commentary, understands R' Moshe ha'Darshan as follows: "The way children grow bears witness to the existence of a Creator. Thus the babes, as it were, declare that there is a God." 

However, the Ibn Ezra disagrees with this approach, and states his own view:

However, in my opinion Scripture reads, “out of the mouth of babes” because man is the most glorious being created in this world. “Out of the mouth of babes” refers to the time that a child first begins to speak. Its meaning is that the power of the rational soul first appears in the body when the child begins to speak. The rational soul develops to the point where it can learn of the power of its Creator by logical thinking. Indeed the soul grows in strength day by day. This is the meaning of, “has Thou founded strength.”

A baby is born with only the potential for rational thinking, which is what the Ibn Ezra means when he speaks of a "soul." This potential is first actualized when the child begins to speak, and continues to develop from that point forward. In this manner, the child builds and cultivates his own soul, which ultimately brings him to recognize his Creator.

The Ibn Ezra's interpretation is in line with Targum Onkelos's translation of the statement, "[God] blew into [man's] nostrils the breath of life, and man became a nefesh chayah (living soul)" (Bereishis 2:7) as "and man became a ruach memalela (speaking spirit)." The human soul and the ability to speak are inextricably linked, and as one develops, so does the other.

And that, my friends, is all I've got for today. Just one piece of the puzzle of the soul. I don't know where this idea fits into the grand scheme of things. I don't know what bearing it has on such topics as the immortality of the soul, the incorporeality of the soul, Olam ha'Ba (the World to Come), reward and punishment, the relationship between mind and body, etc. etc. etc. Those questions must be left for another time.

This morning I came across a passage in the Sefer ha'Chinuch that made me smile. After expressing great apprehension at the prospect of writing about the mitzvah of Parah Adumah (Red Heifer), the Sefer ha'Chinuch offers a few speculations. Immediately thereafter, he apologizes for his boldness, and downplays what he just wrote, saying:

This is not a clarification to provide any comprehension whatsoever of the matter. It is only the love of holiness and the eagerness to achieve a knowledge of the hidden that moves the quill to write.

That sentiment resonated with me while writing this post. Remember, friends: this blog is nothing more and nothing less than a venue for me to think out loud, and to discuss ideas with others who are interested. If you are looking for certainty, expertise, and "authoritative knowledge," then I would be happy to refer you to other resources. 

Some Musings on Achdus (Jewish Unity)

Originally posted in July 2013

Some Musings on Achdus (Jewish Unity)

The term "achdus" (Jewish unity) often comes up in discussions about social and political issues concerning the Jewish community. This concept is often invoked with unspoken qualifiers, such as "absolute achdus" or "unconditional achdus" or "achdus irrespective of our differences." Such calls for achdus are often bolstered with statements such as "kol Yisrael areivim zeh la'zeh" ("Every Jew is responsible for one another") and "ve'ahavta l'reiecha kamocha" ("You shall love your fellow [Jew] as yourself"). Some go so far as to hurl accusations of sinas chinam (baseless hatred) at anyone whose views are perceived as a threat to this achdus.

There is a simple truth which could stand to be reiterated from time to time: there is good achdus and bad achdus. In order to achieve the former, we must be able to understand, identify, and avoid the latter. That is the topic of this blog post.

We can examine this distinction from many different angles, but in this post we will focus on the statement of Hillel in Avos 2:4: "Al tifrosh min ha'tzibur" ("Do not separate from the community"). The Rishonim take a number of different approaches on this mishnah. I will now present excerpts from the commentaries of three Rishonim. As you read through their explanations, see if you can spot the common denominator. 

We will begin with the commentary of Rabbeinu Yonah:

When the community is involved with a mitzvah, this a crown for the Life of Worlds and an honor for His entire dominion, for when the multitude of the nation gathers to fulfill His mitzvos, it is a "glory for the King" (Mishlei 14:28), and it isn't right to separate from them, as it is stated, "He became King over Yeshurun when the numbers of the nation gathered - the tribes of Israel in unity" (Devarim 33:5). 

All of this applies to when the congregation is following a good path and is gathered to do mitzvos. But when the congregation turns to a bad path and their actions are corrupt, it is not right to join with them, and one who separates from them is praiseworthy. Concerning this, Yirmiyahu ha'Navi said: "If only someone would give me a travelers' lodge in the wilderness, then I would forsake my people and leave them, for they are all adulterers, a band of traitors" (Yirmiyahu 9:1). 

Next, the Meiri:

There are those who explain "do not separate from the community" in reference to their customs (i.e. a person shouldn't deviate from the customs of the community). This isn't a valid interpretation, for if [their customs] are good, then the same would apply even to an individual (i.e. one shouldn't deviate from the good customs of even a single person), but if they are bad, it is proper to rebuke them and to guide him on the straight path - that is, if he is worthy [to rebuke them]. But if he is not worthy [to rebuke them] or if they don't listen to him, then it is definitely proper to separate from them, and even to distance oneself from them exceedingly, in order to be saved from their companionship - even if he is their relative or close friend, as it was stated, "Go for yourself, from your land and from your birthplace" (Bereishis 12:1). And if he doesn't do this, he should be fearful for his soul, lest he perish on account of the sin of the city (cf. Bereishis 19:15). 

Lastly, the Rashbatz:

When the actions of the community are corrupt, one who separates from them is praiseworthy. Concerning this, Yirmiyahu ha'Navi said: "If only someone would give me a travelers' lodge in the wilderness, then I would forsake my people and leave them, for they are all adulterers etc." (Yirmiyahu 9:1). And David said: "I hated the gathering of evildoers, and I did not sit with the wicked" (Tehilim 26:5). And Yeshaya said: "Don't talk about a 'unified group,' for everything this people speaks of is a 'unified group'" (Yeshaya 8:12, translated according to Metzudas Tzion). And the Torah says: "Do not go after the majority for evil" (Shemos 23:2). 

But if their actions aren't too corrupt, you shouldn't separate from them ... 

Did you figure it out? That's right. Although these three Rishonim differ in their interpretation Hillel's statement, they are unanimous in their rejection of "absolute achdus," "unconditional achdus," and "achdus irrespective of our differences." 

Achdus Yisrael is beneficial for society and brings glory to God, but only when that achdus is harmonious with His ratzon. Rebbi Yochanan ha'Sandlar expressed this point when he said: "Any congregation which is for the sake of heaven will ultimately prevail, but one which isn't for the sake of heaven will ultimately not prevail" (Avos 4:11). No matter how this mishnah, it is clear that he is not advocating unconditional achdus.

Artwork: False Peace, by Zina Saunders

To my mind, one of the best depictions of the good type of achdus Yisrael is the Rosh ha'Shanah edition of the third brachah of the shemoneh esreh:

You are kadosh (transcendent) and Your Name is kadosh, and kedoshim praise You every day, forever. And so, too, O Hashem, our God, instill Your awe upon all Your works, and Your dread upon all that You have created. Let all works fear You and all creatures prostrate themselves before You. Let them all become a single society, to do Your will wholeheartedly. For as we know, Hashem, our God, that the dominion is Yours, might is in Your hand and strength is in Your right hand, and Your Name inspires awe over all that You have created. 

The natural question is: How can this achdus be achieved?  On the surface, it would seem that this is an unanswerable question. The question of how to achieve peace has plagued every society since the dawn of mankind. The problem is so multifaceted and daunting that it doesn't even seem worthwhile to ask the question.

Thankfully, Judaism provides a clear answer to this question. How can true achdus be achieved? Through knowledge. I can't express this point any better than the Rambam in the Moreh ha'Nevuchim 3:11, so I'll just quote him in full (with my own paragraph breaks):

All the great evils which men cause to each other because of certain intentions, desires, opinions, or religious principles, are likewise due to non-existence, because they originate in ignorance, which is absence of wisdom. 

A blind man, for example, who has no guide, stumbles constantly, because he cannot see, and causes injury and harm to himself and others. In the same manner, various classes of men, each man in proportion to his ignorance, bring great evils upon themselves and upon other individual members of the species. 

If men possessed wisdom, which stands in the same relation to the form of man as the sight to the eye, they would not cause any injury to themselves or to others: for the knowledge of truth removes hatred and quarrels, and prevents mutual injuries. 

This state of society is promised to us by the prophet in the words: “The wolf will live with the sheep [and the leopard will lie down with the kid; and a calf, a lion whelp, and a fatling together, and a young child will lead them.] A cow bear will graze and their young will lie down together; [and a lion, like cattle, will eat hay.] A suckling child will play by a viper’s mouth; [and a newly weaned child will stretch his hand toward an adder’s lair” (Yeshaya 11:6-8). 

The prophet also points out what will be the cause of this change, for he says that hatred, quarrel, and fighting will come to an end, because men will then have a true knowledge of God. “They will neither injure nor destroy in all of My holy mountain; for the earth will be as filled with knowledge of Hashem as water covering the sea bed” (ibid. 11:9). Note it.

The key to achdus Yisrael is knowledge: knowledge of ourselves, knowledge of Torah, knowledge of the world - all in the framework of knowledge of Hashem. "But let him that glorify himself glory in this: understanding and knowing Me, that I am Hashem, Who does kindness, justice, and righteousness on the earth, for in these is My desire – the word of Hashem" (Yirmiyahu 9:23).

Of course, the Rambam does not mean to suggest that all we need to do is learn Torah 24/7 and everything will automatically take care of itself. People are complicated, and the problems we make for ourselves and for each other are equally complicated. Rather, the Rambam is saying that since ignorance is the root of all problems bein adam l'chaveiro, then all efforts to solve those problems must be based upon, guided by, and move towards knowledge. 

There is one last point I'd like to raise in this post - and this is where it gets tricky. The quest for knowledge must, of necessity, involve disagreement. It must also involve opposition to falsehood - opposition in in mind, in speech, and in action. In an ideal world, this would take place in the spirit of mutual respect and truth-seeking, untainted by ego and other negative emotions. The mishnah in Avos 5:17 points to the disagreements of Hillel and Shammai as the paradigm of "good disagreement" (a.k.a. "machlokes l'shem shamayim" or "disagreement for the sake of heaven").

Unfortunately, we do not live in an ideal world. Our world is filled with people who are intellectually and emotionally immature. We, ourselves, are intellectually and emotionally immature in comparison to others - and even the greatest thinkers are prone to bouts of immaturity. This makes things a lot more contentious and difficult. "Machlokes she'lo l'shem shamayim" ("disagreement not for the sake of heaven") prevails, and threatens to disrupt "the good achdus" at every step of the way.

How are we to conduct ourselves in a world divided by machlokes she'lo l'shem shamayim? Generally speaking, there are only two directions in which we, as members of Jewish society, can move in seeking a solution: either we can move towards knowledge, or away from it.

There is a trend among those who promote "unconditional achdus" to point out all of the ugliness that is generated by machlokes she'lo l'shem shamayim. On this score, they are correct: it can get quite ugly, and cause many problems. 

The mistake, however, is the solution that "unconditional achdus" proponents tend to adopt: they tend to believe that shalom can only be achieved by uncritically embracing and/or tolerating all beliefs and opinions as equally valid. Their approach is founded on a lack of basic epistemological yesodos and an erroneous understanding of concepts like shivim panim l'Torah and eilu v'eilu divrei Elokim chayim. They fail to realize that this approach leads away from knowledge, down the road of ignorance, and - according to the Rambam cited above - to increased harm and suffering.

It would behoove us to remember the example set by Korach and his assembly, in their rebellion against Moshe Rabbeinu. Their machlokes with Moshe is identified by the mishnah in Avos as a machlokes she'lo l'shem shamayim - and yet, we do not see Moshe tolerating their views as "equal." The same is true of all the neviim and chachamim throughout Tanach. No matter how steeped in falsehood their society was, they never abandoned their commitment to defending knowledge and truth against the voices of ignorance and falsehood. Ahavas Yisrael they had, but not to the point where it compromised their ahavas Hashem, which is inextricably bound up with their ahavas ha'emes. 

The endeavor to treat all opinions as equally valid will, at best, only achieve a superficial and short-lived achdus - one which will erode the true foundations of true achdus. The only way to secure long-term achdus Yisrael is through the continual and communal pursuit of knowledge. If only we could overlook our differences to the point where we could all engage in an honest and open pursuit of knowledge without validating all opinions. It is possible to treat others with respect, compassion, and genuine empathy without compromising one's commitment to truth-seeking.

I sincerely hope and pray that we all live to see the true achdus in the fulfillment of Tzfania's prophecy: "For then I will change the nations [to speak] a pure language, so that they all will proclaim the Name of Hashem, to worship Him with a unified resolve" (Tzfania 3:9).

Mishlei 21:8 - The Purity of Actions

משלי כא:ח

הֲפַכְפַּךְ דֶּרֶךְ אִישׁ וָזָר וְזַךְ יָשָׁר:

Mishlei 21:8
A man's path may be inconsistent and strange, but his action pure and upright.

Notes on Translation
Most of the commentaries attempt to translate this pasuk in accordance with the typical Mishleic structure of "Bad person + bad quality/consequence, and good person + good quality/effect." Here are some examples of alternative translations which follow this approach:

• Rashi: "A man who is strange [in that he turns away from mitzvos] - his path is changeable; but a man who is pure [and follows mitzvos] is upright [in his path]." 
• Saadia Gaon: "[You might encounter] a man whose path is inconsistent, and [consequently it will become] strange to him; but the pure one - his action is upright." 
• Metzudas David: "[If] a person is inconsistent [in his actions, sometimes] the human path [will be with him] and [sometimes he will be] estranged [from the human path], but the [path of the] pure man [will always be] upright."

The difficulty with these translations is that they require quite a bit of shoehorning, as is evident in the number of bracketed words and phrases.

In order to avoid this, I sought to read the pasuk in the most literal and straightforward manner possible. This necessitated deviating from the typical Mishleic structure. If you take the pasuk at face value, it is making a general statement about man: "A man's derech is inconsistent and strange, and/but his action is pure and upright." That is what led me to my final translation. Subsequently I saw that Rabbeinu Yonah translates the pasuk in a similarly generalized manner, though he takes a different approach in his interpretation.

Major Questions / Difficulties

1. What does the pasuk mean by the terms "inconsistent," "strange," "pure," and "upright"?
2. What is the meaning of "derech" ("way" or "path") in this context?
3. How can a person's actions be pure and upright if his path is inconsistent and strange? 
4. Why do we need to know this? What point is Shlomo ha'Melech trying to get across?

Artwork: Edgewalker, by Ben Thompson

Four Sentence Summary of the Main Idea

This pasuk comes to refute two common misconceptions: (1) that if a person’s derech (i.e. personality, philosophy, way of living, etc.) is inconsistent and strange, then his actions cannot be pure and upright, and (2) that, conversely, if a person’s actions are pure and upright, then his derech cannot possibly be inconsistent and strange. In other words, we are psychologically prone to feeling that good actions are somehow “tainted” if they come from an individual whose derech we consider to be inconsistent, strange, or otherwise defective. From the standpoint of a person’s overall perfection and personal development, this may be true, in a certain sense – but in the cause-and-effect, Mishleic framework of actions and consequences, it is false: a person’s actions will produce its effects on the world, regardless of the derech from which it came. Likewise, we must guard against the corresponding pair of misconceptions which are implied by the pasuk: (3) that if a person’s derech is pure and upright, then his actions cannot be inconsistent and strange, and (4) that if a person’s actions are inconsistent and strange, then his derech cannot be pure and upright. 

On Aging: With (and Without) Torah

Originally posted in May, 2009

Artwork: Touch of the Eternal, by Christopher Moeller

On Aging: With (and Without) Torah

In the 10th derashah (sermon) of Derashos ha'Ran, the Ran cites a mishnah in Kinnim 3:6:

Rebbi Shimon ben Akashya says: Elderly unlearned men, as long as they continue to age, their daas become even more agitated (mitarefes), as it is stated: "He removes the speech of the capable and takes away the reasoning of the elderly" (Iyov 12:20). But Torah-elders are not like that; rather, as long as they continue to age, their daas become even more settled (misyasheves), as it is stated: "In the aged is wisdom and in length of days, understanding" (ibid. 12:12). 

There are two major questions on this mishnah: 

1. What is meant by the opposite terms "yishuv ha'daas" and "tiruf ha'daas"? The term "daas" has many meanings - what does it mean here? What are "yishuv" (settling) and "tiruf" (agitation) in relation to daas, in this context?
   
2. What is the difference between the unlearned elders and the Torah-elders? Why does the daas of an unlearned elder become more agitated as he ages, whereas the daas of a Torah elder becomes more settled? 

Here is the Ran's explanation of the mishnah: 

This does not mean that as long as the Torah-elders continue to age the more their wisdom increases, for it is possible that this won't happen. Since the intellect is dependent upon the physical faculties [e.g. senses, imagination, memory - all of which function through the brain, which is a physical organ], it is possible that when these men become exceedingly old, and these faculties weaken, the intellect will also become weakened ...

Rather, when the mishnah said, "their daas become even more settled," its meaning is as follows. In their youth, the Torah-elders gave up their addictions to the pleasures of the physical world and chose the path of the Good; therefore, as they continue to age, their daas become more settled. This means that they became more reconciled with themselves and their daas became at ease with the decision of their youth. In other words, even though they decided in their youth to abandon their addictions to the pleasures of the physical world and its excesses, it is impossible that they were not occasionally drawn to them. Even though their intellect opposed this, and prevented them from being seduced by the physical pleasures, it is impossible that they did not desire them to some degree. Therefore, their daas was not completely settled [in their youth, for they were caught between two opposing forces.

But the more they continue to age, these more these desires weaken. Their imaginative faculty sees that everything it once fantasized about in the matters of the physical world was pointless, transient, and utterly finite. At that point, it is no longer necessary for their intellect to oppose the imaginative faculty and to dissent. Therefore, their daas is settled, for they clearly see that they had chosen the Good and resolved to follow it, and everything they had forfeited in the matters of the physical world was worthless, and that there is no cause for feeling anxiety over its forfeiture.

The opposite befalls the unlearned elders. In their youth they were seduced by their addictions to the pleasures of the physical world; their daas was at ease and reconciled with this, and they didn't care about their intellect's opposition. But as they continue to age, the physical world withdraws from them and they withdraw from it. They see that everything they once desired and chose in their youth was but nothingness, vanity, and "that they only inherited falsehood" (cf. Yirmiyahu 16:19). Because of this, their daas is not settled with the decision of their youth. Nevertheless, since "they did not learn righteousness" (cf. Yishaya 26:10), and they had become habituated and sunken in their bad habits, their intellect lacks the ability to turn completely away from the path which they have taken until now. Therefore, as they continue to age, they will be caught between two paths, and "the path will not be theirs" (cf. Iyov 23:10).

This is what the Rabbis of blessed memory intended by the expression "their daas is agitated (mitarefes)," as in the expression, "a ship that is mitarefes" (Taanis 19a). This expression refers to a ship in the middle of the ocean with oppressive waves thrusting the ship from one side to the other, and its sailors are unable to guide it on a single path; instead, the wind pushes, sometimes to one side and sometimes to the opposite. Likewise are those who are seduced by their addictions to the physical pleasures of this world, as they continue to age: for in their youth their daas was settled, but in their old age, their daas is agitated. 

We can now answer both of our questions. According to the Ran, yishuv ha'daas means "peaceful state of mind." Daas, in this context, does not refer to the intellect - which the Ran repeatedly calls "seichel."  Rather, "daas" refers to what we commonly refer to as one's "state of mind." Yishuv ha'daas is a state of mind in which one feels at ease, due to the absence of conflict between one's intellect and one's inner psychological forces. Likewise, tiruf ha'daas means "troubled state of mind." As the Ran explains, the expression "tiruf" refers to a state of being pushed and pulled between two opposing forces. Tiruf ha'daas is a conflicted state of mind in which one feels agitated, frustrated, and unsettled, due to the clash between one's intellect and one's inner psychological forces.

Thus, the meaning of the mishnah is as follows: The Torah-elders, in their youth, decided to trade the life of physical and psychological pleasure for the life of chochmah. However, the draw towards physical and psychological pleasure was still present and continued to generate conflict and anxiety, leaving them in a state of partial tiruf ha'daas. But as they become older, and their instinctual forces weaken, their intellect - which they had nourished since youth - sees that they chose correctly, and that everything they gave up was nothingness and vanity. Thus, in their old age, they will no longer be in a state of conflict. They will have achieved yishuv ha'daas; their minds will be at ease. Thus, they will now be free to invest all of their energy into the inherently pleasurable pursuit of chochmah, and their wisdom and understanding will increase.

The unlearned elders, on the other hand, chose to embrace their addictions of the life of pleasure in their youth. The Ran states that they were able to achieve a great measure of yishuv ha'daas in their youth by ignoring the dissenting voice of their intellect, but this yishuv ha'daas was destined to be short-lived. As they age, they too realize that the life of pleasure was vain and futile, and that they should have spent their life in pursuit of something lasting and permanent - but by the time they reach old age, it is too late for them. They will spend their final years in a state of tiruf ha'daas, torn between their insatiable longing for the now unattainable pleasures of their youth, and the opposite longing for something real and lasting (i.e. chochmah), which they are also unable to attain.

Parashas Shelach: Shabbos, Avodah Zarah, and Skilah

I hope this will be the first of my regular "divrei Torah" blog posts for the Summer 2015 blogging season. Enjoy!

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Image Courtesy of The Brick Testament

Parashas Shelach: Shabbos, Avodah Zarah, and Skilah

In the penultimate section of this week's parashah we find the incident of the Mekoshesh Eitzim ("the gatherer of wood," as the phrase is conventionally translated). Here is the short story in its entirety:

The Children of Israel were in the Wilderness and they found a man gathering wood on the Sabbath day. Those who found him gathering wood brought him to Moshe and Aharon, and to the entire assembly. They placed him in custody, for it had not been clarified what should be done to him.

Hashem said to Moshe: "This man shall be put to death; the entire assembly shall pelt him with stones outside of the camp."

The entire assembly removed him to the outside of the camp; they pelted him with stones and he died, as Hashem had commanded Moshe (Bamidbar 15:32-36).

Perhaps the most basic question we can ask is: What are we supposed to learn from this story? 

One thing is for certain: the story is here to teach us the penalty for Shabbos desecration. According to Sifrei (Shelach 57), Bnei Yisrael knew that Shabbos desecration was liable for the death penalty, but they didn't know which of the four death penalties to administer: skilah (stoning), sreifah (burning), hereg (decapitation), or chenek (strangulation). Indeed, according to the pshat (straightforward meaning) of the pesukim, there there wouldn't have been much - if any - need for the Torah to report this incident had Moshe Rabbeinu and Bnei Yisrael known which death penalty to administer. 

This raises a difficulty: Why didn't Hashem inform Moshe and Bnei Yisrael of the precise specific penalty for Shabbos desecration? They had already been told, "Six days shall work be done, but on the seventh day is an ultimate, holy cessation [from melachah]; whoever does melachah shall surely be put to death" (Shemos 31:15). Why wasn't the particular death penalty taught at the same time? What could possibly be gained by delaying the release of this critical information?

The Baalei Tosafos (bottom of Bava Basra 119a) provide some much needed insight into this matter. They explain that according to Torah she'baal Peh (the Oral Torah), any time Torah she'bi'Chsav (the Written Torah) uses the generic phrase "he shall surely be put to death" (mos yumas), we are to interpret this as referring to chenek (death by strangulation). Why, then, was Moshe even in doubt? He should have ruled that the mekoshesh eitzim should be put to death by chenek, and there would be no need to ask Hashem for clarification.

The Baalei Tosafos answer as follows:

Moshe theorized that [the mekoshesh eitzim] should receive the ruling of skilah (death by stoning), like an oveid avodah zarah (worshiper of idolatry), for in all places we find that the mitzvah of [keeping] Shabbos is compared to [the mitzvah of refraining from] avodah zarah - that is, the one who publicly desecrates Shabbos is equated to the one who worships avodah zarah.

They are referring to the halachic principle codified by the Rambam in Hilchos Shabbos 30:15:

Shabbos and avodah zarah – each of them is equal in weight to all of the other mitzvos of the Torah. Shabbos is the eternal sign between Ha’Kadosh Baruch Hu and us. Therefore, if a person transgresses any of the other mitzvos, he is included among the wicked Israelites – but one who publicly desecrates Shabbos is considered to be like an oveid avodah zarah, and both of them are treated like non-Jews in all matters.

As we see from the conclusion of the mekoshesh story, Moshe's theory was correct: the violation of Shabbos is not liable for the least-severe death penalty of chenek, as it would seem from the initial presentation of the halachos in Torah she'bi'Chsav and Torah she'baal Peh. Instead, Shabbos desecration is liable for skilah - the most severe punishment of them all - due to the relationship between avodah zarah and the public desecration of Shabbos.

In light of this Tosafos, perhaps we can resolve our difficulty. Why didn't Hashem inform Moshe and Bnei Yisrael of the precise specific penalty for Shabbos desecration? Apparently, because it was necessary for Moshe to arrive at this conclusion on his own based on the relationship between Shabbos and avodah zarah. And since it was necessary for Moshe to confirm his theory by consulting Hashem, thereby putting the death sentence of the desecrator on hold, the whole incident of the mekoshesh took on the character of a "breaking news story" and garnered a tremendous amount of publicity. Not only was this the first time anyone had violated Shabbos, but the entire nation was forced to wait with bated breath for the fate of the transgressor to be decreed by the Almighty, Himself. And when that ruling was finally handed down, Moshe Rabbeinu (with an emphasis on "Rabbeinu") almost certainly used this as an opportunity to draw attention to the connection between Shabbos and avodah zarah.

Thus, not only did this divinely orchestrated publicity stunt underscore the severity of Shabbos desecration in the eyes of the entire nation, but it also brought awareness to the important principle that Shabbos-desecration and avodah zarah are conceptually linked, and are equal in their severity.

In case you don't buy this theory, it just so happens that another Rishon (early medieval authority) arrived at the same conclusion - albeit through an entirely different route. I am speaking of the Ralbag, who also learns that the story of the mekoshesh eitzim was placed in our parashah to highlight the connection between Shabbos and avodah zarah.

The Ralbag arrives at his conclusion not from an analysis of the event itself, but from the placement of this story within the parashah. The topic which appears right before the story of the mekoshesh is - you guessed it - avodah zarah! In these preceding pesukim the Torah presents the laws of korbanos (sacrifices) to atone for unintentional public avodah zarah and for individual worship of avodah zarah. The pesukim immediately before the story of the mekoshesh teach the penalty for intentional worship of avodah zarah:

A person who shall act high-handedly, whether native or proselyte, he blasphemed Hashem - that person shall be cut off from among his people, for he scorned the word of Hashem and broke His commandment; that person will surely be cut off, his sin is upon him (ibid. 15:30-31)

The Ralbag (commentary on Bamidbar 15:32) provides the following explanation of this juxtaposition:

It seems as though [the topic] of Shabbos desecration was juxtaposed to the topic of avodah zarah on account of the similarity between them. One who desecrates Shabbos is, in a certain sense, denying the entire Torah, for the root upon which the Torah is built is conviction in the creation of the universe, for this [conviction] establishes two major premises for us: (1) that Hashem Exists, and (2) that He brought the universe into being. When we believe this, this will bring us to believe in what the Torah has commanded. The mitzvah of Shabbos comes to teach us regarding these two fundamental principles.

According to the Ralbag, the observance of Shabbos serves as a public affirmation of Hashem's Existence and His creation of the universe. Thus, the intentional desecration of Shabbos is tantamount to a renunciation of these principles - and all the more so when this desecration takes place in public. 

I think this also addresses a point which I have heard expressed from time to time. People sometimes feel that it is WAY too harsh to administer the death penalty for the violation of Shabbos. "Really? Picking up sticks on Saturday is punishable by death?! That's crazy!" The Ralbag's explanation reminds us that unlike other capital offenses, for which the action itself is inherently harmful, the desecration of Shabbos is destructive because of what it represents. Just as (lehavdil) someone who burns the American flag is making a political/philosophical statement against the foundational principles of the entire nation, so too, a person who intentionally violates Shabbos is effectively denouncing the fundamental principles upon which the Torah is based. 

There is a lot more to write about the connection between Shabbos and avodah zarah, but that shall have to wait until another time, in another blog post. For now, let us content ourselves with the lessons learned from the story of the mekoshesh eitzim, and be thankful that his death was not in vain.

Punishing Children for their Fathers' Sins

Artwork: Pillory of the Sleepless, by Marc Simonetti

Punishing Children for their Parents' Sins

The second of the Aseres ha'Dibros (Ten Commandments) includes a problematic statement: 

You shall not recognize the gods of others in My presence. You shall not make yourself a carved image or any likeness of that which is in the heavens above or on the earth below or in the water beneath the earth. You shall not prostrate yourself to them nor worship them, for I am Hashem, your God - a jealous God, Who visits the sin of fathers upon children to the third and fourth generations, for My enemies; but Who shows kindness for thousands [of generations] to those who love Me, and observe My commandments (Shemos 20:3-6).

The question is clear: How is it fair for Hashem to punish children for the sin of their fathers? This would appear to be a major injustice! Moreover, there are many pesukim (verses) throughout Tanach which support this point: 

"In those days it will no longer be said, 'The fathers ate sour grapes, and the teeth of sons are set on edge.' Rather, every man will die for his own sin, and the man who eats the sour grapes, his own teeth will be set on edge." (Yirmiyahu 31:28-29)

"The soul that sins, it shall die! A son shall not bear the iniquity of [his] father and a father shall not bear the iniquity of [his] son; the righteousness of the righteous person shall be upon him and the wickedness of the wicked person shall be upon him." (Yechezkel 18:20) 

"Vindicating an evil person and condemning a righteous person - both are abominations of Hashem." (Mishlei 17:15)

Targum Onkelos (ibid.) addresses this problem by translating our pasuk as follows:

You shall not bow down to them nor serve them, for I am Hashem, your God - a jealous God, Who visits the liability of fathers upon rebellious children, upon the third generation and upon the fourth generation, for My enemies, when the children continue to sin [as did] their fathers. 

By clarifying that pasuk is referring specifically to those children who follow in the sinful ways of their fathers, Onkelos's translation bypasses the problem of God punishing innocent children for sins they didn't commit. 

Onkelos's translation follows Chazal's interpretation, as stated in the Gemara (Berachos 7a; see also Sanhedrin 27b and Makkos 24a):

It is written: "He visits the sin of fathers upon their children" (Shemos 34:7), and it is written: "Children shall not die for the sins of their fathers" (Devarim 24:16). These two pesukim contradict each other! 

But [this contradiction] may be answered: it is not a difficulty - the [first pasuk] refers to a case in which [the children] hold on to the actions of their fathers, whereas the [second pasuk] refers to cases in which they do not hold on to the actions of their fathers. 

Ibn Ezra takes a similar approach. He interprets the pasuk not as "[God] visits the sin of fathers upon children" but rather as "[God] remembers the sin of fathers [when dealing with their] children." He explains:

Hashem will prolong [His anger] towards a rasha (evildoer), for perhaps he will repent from his sin, or perhaps he will have a son who is better than he. But if that son follows in the ways of his father, and likewise if the third and fourth generation [follow after the ways of their fathers], then Hashem will not prolong His anger for the fourth generation; if there are four generations of those who hate Hashem, then He will annihilate the memory of all of them. For Hashem will remember what the father did, and what his son did, and what his grandson did, and He will not be tolerant of the fourth generation. 

Like Onkelos, Ibn Ezra learns that the pasuk is not talking about innocent children, but specifically those children who follow in the sinful ways of their fathers. The other meforshim (commentators) deal with this problem in a similar manner.

The Ralbag, on the other hand, takes an approach which differs radically from the mainstream meforshim. Rather than textually sidestepping the problem by reading an unstated qualification into the pasuk, the Ralbag takes the pasuk at face value. He understands the pasuk to be saying that Hashem does punish children - even innocent children - for the sins of their fathers. Thus, Ralbag is faced with the full brunt of the question: How can this be? How is this in line with justice? Here is the Ralbag's explanation (ibid.) in full:

There is a major difficulty with this statement, namely: How is it possible that Hashem (may He be exalted) will punish the children of a sinner, when they do not partake of the guilt of their father's sin?

We will resolve this difficulty in the following manner: Hashem punishes those who violate His words, either through hashgachah derech tochachah (rebuke through divine providence), or by removing hashgachah so that [the sinner] receives the natural raos (harms) which were set to befall him according to the laws of nature. In both cases, the ra that befalls the offspring [of the sinner] would not have befallen them were it not for the sin of their father. 

For example: when our forefathers rebelled [against God], they became liable for the punishment of being exiled among the nations, and the nations would inherit their land. This exile extended to their offspring after them, in that they were born into exile, and it would be impossible for them to escape this ra unless they were able to do so within the laws of nature, or by reaching a level of perfection which would be sufficient for Hashem to miraculously bring them out from the lands to which they had been scattered. 

It is in this sense that the prophet said, "Our fathers sinned and are no more, but we suffer their sins" (Eichah 5:7). In other words, if our fathers had not sinned, we would still be in the Land, and we wouldn't have gone out from there unless we engaged in despicable actions which would make us liable for this type of punishment. However, once we find ourselves in exile due to the sin of our fathers, then [merely] refraining from such despicable actions will not suffice to enable us to return from there. Instead, we need to acquire the degree of perfection necessary to cling to Hashem in a manner that will cause Him to bring us out from this exile through miraculous hashgachah. In this manner, there is no injustice if the punishment of a father befalls his children, for it comes about incidentally [and not directly].

According to the Ralbag, it would only be unjust for Hashem to directly punish a child for the sin of his father, but if the father receives punishment, and that punishment incidentally (or indirectly) affects the child, this would not constitute an injustice. That is just how the world works. This is true for divinely orchestrated hashgachic "rebuke" punishments, as well as the natural punishments within the laws of nature. 

Elsewhere (commentary on Sefer Yehoshua, Chapter 7) Ralbag reiterates his explanation and provides a helpful mashal (example) to bolster his point:

... Hashem does not directly punish children for the sins of their fathers, for this would be unjust. However, it is possible - without injustice - for some punishment to incidentally extend to children on account of their father's sin, and this would not constitute an injustice at all.

For example, if a person sinned against the government and was fined as a penalty, this punishment would also affect his children, since they would be poor and would not inherit the possessions of their father which they would have originally inherited ... In this same manner it may happen that Hashem will visit the punishment of fathers unto children, but not in a direct manner.

While most of us would feel sympathetic towards the children of the man in this example, we understand that this is how the world works. Human beings were endowed with free will and placed in a physical world of cause-and-effect. In such a world, it would be impossible to shield every individual from being affected in any negative way by every other person's actions. Likewise, it would be impossible for each and every person to be born into exactly the same circumstances as every other person on earth, with no relative advantages or disadvantages. The only time that could have happened was in Gan Eden, but those days are long gone. 

Understandably, this explanation might not sit well with everyone. Some people will object, saying, "But shouldn't Hashem just work it out so that this type of thing doesn't even happen? Wouldn't that be more in line with justice?" 

Perhaps the best way to respond to this is by citing the words of the navi (prophet): "For My thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not My ways – says Hashem" (Yeshayahu 55:8). The Rambam expands upon this in his definition of the purpose of Sefer Iyov: 

But the term "hashgachah" (supervision) as applied to Him is not the same concept as our [human form of] supervision, nor is His "hanhagah" (management) of His creations the same concept as our management of what we manage. The two concepts are not even comprised in one and the same definition – as is thought by those who are confused – and there is nothing in common between the two except in name alone. 

In the same way, our actions do not resemble His actions, and the two are not comprised in one and the same definition. Just as natural acts differ from those of craftsmanship, so do the Divine hanhagah, hashgachah, and kavanah (purpose) in these natural phenomena differ from our management, supervision, and intention of what we manage, supervise, and intend. 

This is the objective of the entire Book of Iyov as a whole, namely, the establishing of this foundational concept, and the drawing of attention to the inference to be drawn from natural phenomena, so that you should not err and seek to affirm in your imagination that His yediah (knowledge) is like our knowledge, or that His kavanah, hashgachah, and hanhagah are like our purpose, supervision, and management.

The Rambam is not merely rehashing the oft-repeated statement, "God's ways are mysterious and are beyond human comprehension." Rather, he is saying that God's management and supervision of His universe is completely different than the way we manage and supervise things in our world. He is informing us that understanding this critical point is the gateway to knowledge of the ways of Hashem. To the extent that we judge Hashem's actions by comparing them to our own actions, the true understanding of His ways will be withheld. And to the extent that we open our minds to ideas of hashgachah which are counter-intuitive - and clash with the way we would like to view things - we will come to know and appreciate how the True Judge governs His world.

Thus, when faced with an explanation like the Ralbag's which seems to go against our notion of how God should manage, supervise, and implement justice in His world, perhaps we ought to take a step back and ask ourselves, "Am I making the mistake of looking at God's hashgachah through the lens of human hashgachah?" This doesn't mean that we should ignore our questions and problems. It means that the answer to our question might lie in examining the root of our problem, and opening ourselves up to the possibility that "His thoughts are not our thoughts, nor are His ways our ways."

If we stubbornly try to fit Hashem's actions into our preconceived ideas about how justice ought to be implemented, we will remain developmentally stunted in our understanding. It is precisely by challenging our own intuitive notions of Divine justice that we will gain insight into the beauty and beneficence of Hashem's ways.

Torah as Melachah (Craft)

Originally posted in July of 2012. Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Torah as Melachah (Craft)

Every communal korban minchah (flour-offering) must be brought in the form of matzah (unleavened bread). There is only one exception to this rule: the shtei ha'lechem (Two Loaves) on the Chag ha'Shavuos, which consists of two loaves of lechem chamtetz (leavened bread). What is the reason for this anomaly? 

The Ralbag's answer (see Vayikra 23) sheds light on the nature of entire Torah-regimen:

The Torah commands us on the Chag ha’Shavuos to bring a minchah-offering of chametz. The idea is as follows: the Chag ha’Shavuos is – as we explained in Parshas Yisro – a commemoration of Matan Torah (the giving of the Torah), which is a wondrous expression of Hashem’s kindness to us, in that He brought us close to His service and caused us to inherit eternal life. In addition to this, there are material goods which emanate from Torah, such as the inheritance of the Land and the material goods which are bestowed upon us through hashgachah pratis (divine providence). 

Before man’s actions and concepts are perfected through the Torah-regimen, his actions and concepts are deficient – just like matzah-bread, which lacks the perfection of leavening. But afterwards, man’s actions and concepts become perfected, like chametz-bread, which has the greatest degree of perfection. 

For this reason, Hashem commanded us to eat matzah with the meat of the pesach-offering, and He commanded us to bring a minchah-offering of chametz on the day of Matan Torah. In order to firmly establish this intention in us, the Torah singled out the minchah-offering of the Chag ha’Shavuos to be chametz, in contrast to other minchah-offerings, in order to open our eyes to understand the truth of this intention. 

This serves the additional purpose of elucidating the essence and character of the Torah. The Torah is not in the class of "natural phenomena," but rather, it perfects us – in the same manner that many of the melachos ("crafts" or "arts") assist nature and perfect it (e.g. agriculture and other such arts). The same is true with Torah: man’s natural capacity to acquire human perfections is actualized through the Torah-regimen by those who practice it in a perfect manner. Moreover, just as the melachos which perfect nature are enacted by free choice, the same is true with the Torah-regimen. 

For these reasons, the perfection attained by means of Torah is compared to the perfection attained by means of melachah, as alluded to by the fact that the minchah-offering on the day of Matan Torah must be made from chametz-bread.

In order to better understand and appreciate the full import of the Ralbag's explanation, it would behoove us to review the Ralbag's definition of Torah, as expressed in the first paragraph of his introduction to 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.

The Ralbag views Torah as a stage in the unfolding of the same hashgachah that brought all other existences from the state of deficient (potential) existence to complete (actual) existence. He even goes so far as to compare the Torah-regimen to the biological processes which govern our physical existence and development. Just as Hashem created the systems of biological laws which enable us to sustain our physical bodies, so too, He created the system of Torah laws which bring us to "complete existence," "true perfection," and "true success" - namely, perfection as a tzelem Elokim. But unlike the natural laws which govern our physical development, the laws of the Torah must be enacted through knowledge and free choice. This is where the mashal of melachah comes into the picture. 

According to the Ralbag, the Torah is designed to bring about human perfection in the same manner as the other forms of melachah - specifically, those melachos which "assist nature and perfect it." Fruits, vegetables, and grains occur in nature and grow without human intervention. The job of the farmer is to cooperate with the processes of nature and to facilitate the emergence of its products in a more perfected and complete manner. Likewise, Hashem designed the human body with the capacity to heal itself. The job of the doctor is to assist the body to heal itself with maximal efficiency. 

The same is true in the case of Torah. Man is capable of perfecting himself without Torah. It is even possible for human beings to reach great heights of perfection without Torah, as we see in the cases of Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov, Moshe, Aharon, Miriam, and a small number of others. That small number testifies to the extreme difficulty of reaching perfection without Torah, which is why (or one of the reasons why) Hashem gave the Torah to us and obligated us to keep it. Without Torah, we really wouldn't stand a chance. 

There are many tremendous implications of the Ralbag's statement that the Torah "is not in the class of natural phenomena, but rather, it perfects us – in the same manner that many of the melachos assist nature and perfect it," but in this post, I'd only like to focus on one of those implications: the need for excellence in Torah-craftsmanship. 

The laws of Torah are not like the laws which govern the development of an embryo or the growth of a plant. In contrast to the laws of nature, which produce results consistently and "automatically" (not in the sense that they operate independently of Hashem, but in the sense that their operation is not contingent on the application of human skill and human judgment), the Torah-regimen varies widely in its "products" and its rate of success. In some cases, the Torah-regimen will produce Rebbi Akivas, Rambams, and Rav Soloveitchiks. In other cases, the Torah will produce amei ha'aretz (ignoramuses) and "stam baalei batim" ("ordinary laymen"). And in other cases, the Torah will - in spite of itself - yield Korachs, Yeravam ben Navats, and other reshaim (wicked people). 

Why does the Torah produce such a variety of results? There are many reasons, no doubt. But to a large extent, the results of the Torah-regimen are dependent on the level of "craftsmanship" of the Torah practitioner. The Ralbag acknowledges this by explicitly qualifying his statements about the perfection achieved through Torah. In both of the aforementioned excerpts, the Ralbag says that the Torah achieves its purpose only for those "who practice it properly" or "those who practice it in a perfect manner." Yes, it is true that some people are more likely to "succeed" in Torah than others, whether by virtue of their innate dispositions, their upbringing, or their environmental circumstances - but most of those factors are largely outside of our control. What we can control and work on is developing our own proficiency in "Torah-craftsmanship" - or, if you prefer, "the skilled practice of the Torah-regimen."

There are many ways to view Torah. Chazal, themselves, compared Torah to many different things: water, wine, fire, etc. It would be a mistake to assume that these analogies were intended as absolute definitions. Rather, each analogy illuminates different dimensions of the infinitely deep and multifaceted Torah-regimen. I think that the Ralbag's comparison of Torah to melachah should be taken in that spirit. Personally I have found that the Ralbag's comparison of the Torah-regimen to craft has enriched my practice of Torah immeasurably, and I hope it does the same for you.