The Role of Regret in Teshuvah

The Role of Regret in Teshuvah

I was recently thinking about the role of nechamah (regret) in the teshuvah process. The Rambam spells out this requirement in Hilchos Teshuvah 2:2:

What is teshuvah? That the sinner should abandon his sin, and remove it from his plans, and resolve in his heart not to do it again, as it is stated, "The evil one should abandon his way, and the man of iniquity his plans" (Yishayahu 55:7). Likewise, he should regret having transgressed, as it is stated, "for after I did teshuvah, I regretted; after I became aware [of my sin], I slapped [my] thigh [in anguish]" (Yirmiyahu 31:18). And the One Who Knows Hidden Things should testify about him that he will never return to this sin, as it is stated, "We will no longer say, 'O our gods!' to the work of our hands, for it is with You that an orphan finds mercy" (Hoshea 14:4). And he must verbally confess and say these matters which he resolved in his heart.

My question emerged when thinking about a unique category of aveirah: an aveirah which ends up improving the transgressor’s life – either because it yields a benefit, or saves him or her from harm. For the sake of brevity, we will refer to this as "the case of the beneficial aveirah." Here are a few examples:

• There are many alcoholics and drug addicts who owe their recovery to “hitting rock bottom.” They recognize that if they hadn’t hit rock bottom, they would have persisted in their dangerous lifestyle – or, worse yet, they would be dead. 

• A person commits adultery and begets a mamzer/mamzeret, whom they raise as a child who they love and cherish. 

• A disenchanted and disenfranchised FFB person "goes off the derech" for a significant period of time, engages in a variety of aveiros, and through this, comes to appreciate the true value of Judaism in his or her life; that recognition, in turn, becomes the foundation of his or her new Jewish identity, which lasts for a lifetime.

All of these cases raise the same difficulty: How can a person honestly regret having committed the aveirah in question? How can the addict truly regret hitting rock bottom if doing so resulted in his salvation? How can the adulterer genuinely regret committing adultery, knowing that his beloved son or daughter would never have come into existence otherwise? How can the "off-the-derech baal teshuvah" honestly regret the numerous aveiros which ultimately rekindled his relationship with Judaism?

In order to answer this question, we must understand the nature of the nechamah component of teshuvah. Before we learn what it is, we must first establish what it is not.

"To have nechamah" does not mean "to wish that the aveirah never happened." The derech ha’Torah is to bring us closer to reality – not further away. The aveirah did happen, and to wish that it didn’t happen is to venture into a fantasy land. To the contrary, one must continue to face the reality of one’s past transgressions even after the teshuvah process is complete, as David ha’Melech said: "my sin is before me, constantly" (Tehilim 51:5).

Nor does "nechamah" refer to the pangs of shame and guilt which immediately follow in the wake of the aveirah. This is evident from the Rambam's placement of nechamah within the teshuvah procedure. Nechamah is the fourth step in the process - not the first. The pasuk that the Rambam quotes also supports this: "for after I did teshuvah, I regretted" (Yirmiyahu 31:18)

Likewise, "to have nechamah" does not mean "to stew in guilt and brood excessively over having transgressed," even after one has completed the primary teshuvah process. Not only is this type of regret unhealthy and unproductive, but it also runs contrary to the derech ha’Torah. The Rambam, in Hilchos Avel 13:11 writes: 

A person shouldn’t be excessively aggrieved (lit. "a person shouldn’t be too harsh with himself") over his dead [relative], as it is stated, "Do not weep for a dead man, and do not shake your head for him" (Yirmiyahu 22:10) – in other words, [do not cry] excessively, for such is minhago shel olam (the way of the world), and a person who pains himself over the minhago shel olam is a fool. Rather, how should he mourn? Three days for crying, seven days for eulogizing, and thirty days for [refraining from] haircuts and the other five [Rabbinic mourning practices]. 

If a person is considered to be a fool for excessively mourning and "being too harsh with himself" over the death of a loved one, then it is certainly foolish to be excessively aggrieved over an aveirah. Although cheit is certainly worthy of some degree of bemoaning – as the navi said, "Over what should a living person bemoan? A man over his own sins" (Eichah 3:39) – even cheit is "minhago shel olam," as Shlomo ha’Melech said, "For there is no man on earth who is [so righteous] and does not sin" (Koheles 7:20).

So what does nechamah mean in the context of teshuvah? I believe the answer boils down to a concept I learned from a shiur given by Rabbi Maroof on the topic of coping with tragedy. Rabbi Maroof cited a midrash from Pirkei d’Rebbi Eliezer. The midrash relates an incident in which Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai lost a son, and his colleagues came to provide him with nechamah (consolation). Several Tannaim attempted to comfort him by citing other instances of people in Tanach who suffered losses and were consoled (e.g. Adam ha’Rishon, David ha’Melech, Iyov, Aharon ha’Kohen). To each of these examples, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai responds in the same way: "Why are you telling me about the tragic losses of other people? That doesn’t help me – it just makes things worse!"

Finally, Rebbi Elazar ben Azaryah comes and says: 

“I would like to offer you a mashal (parable). To what can this matter be compared? – To a man to whom the king entrusted a deposit. Each and every day the man cries and shouts and says, ‘Woe is to me! When will I depart from this deposit in peace?’ So it is with you, my master. You had a son. He read Torah, Prophets, Writings, Mishnah, Halacha, and Aggadah and he left the world without sin. You should be consoled that you returned the deposit intact.” 

[Rebbi Yochanan ben Zakkai] said to him, “Rebbi Elazar, my son – you have consoled me in the manner that human beings console.”

In explaining the meaning of Rebbi Elazar ben Azaryah’s comment (which I will not delve into here), Rabbi Maroof defined nechamah in the context of mourning:

The word in Hebrew for consolation is "nechamah." "Nechamah" means actually "to change your mind" [as in] "Hashem changed His mind (va'yinachem) the harm He declared He would do to His people" (Shemos 32:14). It means "to change your mind." "le'nachem" – "to console somebody" – means to help them change their perspective.

Rabbi Maroof went on to explain how Rebbi Elazar ben Azaryah’s mashal helped Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai to change his perspective by helping him to find meaning in his own loss. This "change of mind" is the essence of real nechamah over a personal tragedy. Rabbi Maroof elaborated in his description of this understanding of nechamah: 

If you want to use the word "cope [with their loss]," that's the best term. To cope with it [means] to see it in a manner that is manageable. To "cope with it" means to see it in a way that one can integrate it. What happens when we have a terrible loss and terrible suffering is that we feel like our personalities are broken, [and that we] are not whole, and we cannot function … To be able to integrate [the tragedy] into yourself again, to be able to absorb it, you need to be able to see it in a way that will fit, [so] that you can digest it.

To my mind, Rabbi Maroof’s definition of nechamah is the key to understanding the nechamah-component of teshuvah. "Nechamah" means "to change one’s mind" or "to change one’s perspective.' Theoretically, it is possible for a person to "quit" an aveirah "cold turkey" without nechamah. In other words, he can stop doing the aveirah, remove it from his plans, and resolve never to do it again – all without undergoing a real change of perspective on that aveirah.

This is where "nechamah" enters the picture. It is not enough to stop doing the aveirah and ensure that it never happens again. Teshuvah demands more. It demands that we understand how and why our involvement in this aveirah was harmful, and stemmed from a distorted view of reality. Teshuvah involves a transformation of the mind, from the mentality which contributed to our doing of the aveirah to a new state of mind, in which we would never do the aveirah. 

While looking for images to use in this blog post, I came across the following piece of street art:

"Never Regret Anything because at one time it was exactly what you wanted."

Needless to say, the Torah would not condone the first half of this message. However, the second half can serve as an excellent catalyst for arriving at genuine nechamah over one's past transgressions. The first step is to recognize that the aveirah is something that you wanted - at least, on some level, to the point where you went through with it. The second step is to understand the distortion involved in that desire. The final step is to develop your knowledge, middos, and values to the point where you no longer see that action as a good. That is the true philosophical "regret" which is an essential part of teshuvah.

Obviously, this is easier said than done. But nobody ever said teshuvah is easy.

I believe we can now answer our initial question. How can a person honestly have nechamah for committed an aveirah if that aveirah which improved his life? The answer is: by recognizing that the decision to do the aveirah and the results of that aveirah are only related circumstantially - not essentially. I will explain what I mean by introducing one more concept.

Hint: Don't.

I play a strategic trading card game called Magic: the Gathering. The game involves a tremendous amount of skill, but also involves a healthy amount of chance. Accordingly, it has been described as a combination of chess and poker.

The Magic pros caution against a fallacy they call "results-oriented thinking" (or "R.O.T."). To commit the fallacy of R.O.T. is to evaluate the success and failure of in-game decisions based exclusively on the results, rather than the strategic decision-making process. 

For example, let's say we were playing a simple "game" in which I roll a 20-sided dice. You have two choices: you can choose to bet on the numbers 1-19, or on the number 20. If you win, you get $100, and if you lose, you lose $500. Obviously, the rational decision is to bet on the numbers 1-19, which would give you a 95% chance of winning, as opposed to a 5% chance. 

Now, let's say we play. I roll the dice and it lands on 20 and you lose $500. If, in such a situation, you would say to yourself, "Oh man! I CLEARLY made the wrong decision! I SHOULD have picked 20!" then you have fallen prey to Results-Oriented Thinking. And if you were really ignorant about probability, you would conclude, "Next time I'll be sure to bet on 20." 

In contrast, if you were wise, you would shrug your shoulders at your loss and say, "I made the correct decision, and the odds were in my favor, but the dice just happened to fall out on an improbable outcome." And you would bet on 1-19 the next time, and the next time, and the next time - even if the dice landed on 20 multiple times in a row (provided you were certain that the dice were weighted fairly). 

So too, when doing teshuvah, one must not fall prey to the fallacy of Results-Oriented Thinking. Indeed, "the case of the beneficial aveirah" is somewhat of a misnomer. It may very well be that a person gained a tremendous benefit from an aveirah - and not just an imaginary benefit, but a real benefit. 

But here is the critical point: just because the transgressor received a beneficial result does not mean that the aveirah was a good decision. The decision to transgress must be evaluated on its own terms, completely independently from the consequences that came about as a result. For example:

• The drug addict's life might have turned around after he hit rock bottom, but that doesn't change the fact that indulging an addiction is a bad decision.

• The adulterer might have ended up raising a wonderful child whom he or she loves, but that doesn't change the fact that committing adultery is a bad decision.

• The "off the derech" dabbler might have ended up reunited with Torah, but that doesn't change the fact that violating Torah is a bad decision.

This is why it is so important to understand the true nature of the nechamah required by halacha. Without undergoing the process of nechamah - of "changing one's mind" by recognizing the error(s) which led to the transgression - one will not be able to adequately rid oneself of the feeling that the aveirah was actually a good decision, which just happened to be (labeled) as bad. The truth is quite the opposite: the decision was a bad one, even though it just happened to yield a benefit.

I feel like there is a lot more to explore here. I hope that at the very least I have raised a few questions about nechamah and its place in teshuvah. If you have any thoughts, questions, or critiques, I would love to hear them, as always.

Parashas Balak: Curses/Crisis Averted

Originally posted in June 2013.

No doubt, this is how Bilam pictured himself succeeding in cursing Bnei Yisrael.
Artwork: Banefire, by Raymond Swanland

Parashas Balak: Curses/Crisis Averted

This week’s parashah details the repeated attempts of the gentile prophet Bilam to curse Bnei Yisrael at the behest of the Moabite king Balak. Every time Bilam tries to curse Bnei Yisrael, Hashem intervenes and converts his curses into blessings.

Ralbag asks a powerful question: Why did Hashem even bother preventing Bilam from cursing Bnei Yisrael? If one maintains that such curses are rooted in superstitious imaginations and have no impact on reality, then Bilam’s curse would have been totally ineffective. And if you hold that such curses actually have the power to cause harm, weren't Bnei Yisrael under Hashem’s protection? Couldn't He have merely protected them without getting involved in the affairs of Bilam and Balak in the first place? [1]

And if you’ll argue that Hashem intervened with Bilam in order to prevent a chilul ha’Shem (desecration of Hashem’s Name) – namely, by preventing Moav from walking away with the mistaken impression that Hashem’s Chosen Nation could be subject to curses – this contradicts what the Navi says in the haftarah: “My people, hear, now, what Balak, king of Moav schemed and what Bilam son of Beor answered him … in order to recognize the righteousness of Hashem.” [2] In other words, Hashem’s sabotage of Balak's and Bilam’s plot was an act of tzedakah and chesed to Bnei Yisrael – not an anti-chilul ha’Shem measure directed at Moav.

In order to understand the answer that the Ralbag gives to his question, we must review the events which unfold at the end of the parashah. Bnei Yisrael become enticed by the women of Moav. This leads to an outbreak of sexual promiscuity and idolatry. As a result of these grievous sins, Hashem brings a plague upon Bnei Yisrael which claims the lives of 24,000 Jews.

Whenever a tragedy befalls our nation, we are commanded to do teshuvah. We must recognize that the cause of the tragedy was our own sins. [3] Based on that premise, Ralbag answers our question. Hashem, in His Absolute Omniscience, knew that Bnei Yisrael would sin with the daughters of Moav, and would suffer a divine punishment as a result. Ordinarily, Bnei Yisrael – under the guidance of Moshe Rabbeinu – would recognize the error of their ways and do teshuvah. However, if Bilam had been allowed to succeed in his curses, Bnei Yisrael would believe that his curse was the cause of the plague, rather than their own sins. This error would cause them to not do teshuvah, and to persist in their evil ways, digging themselves deeper and deeper into sin.

In order to prevent this from happening, Hashem – in His abundant tzedakah and chesed – intervened in and stopped Bilam from cursing Bnei Yisrael, thereby removing a major obstacle to teshuvah. Moreover, He did so in a manner which was bound to be publicized, on account of Balak’s reaction to his schemes being thwarted in such a public manner. Consequently, when the plague befell Bnei Yisrael, they would no longer be able to ascribe their suffering to the curses of Bilam, and there would be a greater likelihood of them realizing the true cause of the catastrophe.

In order to fully appreciate Hashem’s intervention in this case, we must recognize that if Bnei Yisrael were not on such a high level at that time, Hashem would not have intervened. The Gemara in Avodah Zarah cites a braisa which states:

The [non-Jewish] philosophers asked the [Jewish] Sages in Rome, “If your God doesn’t like idolatry, why doesn’t He simply get rid of it?!” [The Sages] replied, “If they would worship something that the world didn’t need, He would get rid of it; but behold, they worship the sun, the moon, the stars, and the constellations; should God destroy His world because of the fools?! Rather, the world follows its natural pattern, and the fools who cause corruption will ultimately be held accountable. [4]

We see from here (and from the numerous similar cases which the same Gemara brings down) that Hashem's normal policy is not to intervene in the natural order to prevent fools from sinning – even when it comes to such a severe transgression as idolatry! Instead, He allows the world to follow its natural pattern, leaving the fools free to pursue their own mistaken notions about reality, for which they will ultimately pay the price - in this world, and the next.

Now we can fully appreciate the extent of Hashem’s tzedakah and chesed in His subversion of Bilam’s and Balak’s plans. Were Bnei Yisrael like any other nation, Hashem would have let nature take its course, and held the sinners accountable in the final reckoning. It was only because of Hashem's covenant with the Avos that He assisted their descendants in this manner.

[1] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershon (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 22, ha’toeles ha’shelishi
[2] Sefer Micha 6:5
[3] See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer Zmanim, Hilchos Taaniyos 1:1-4
[4] Maseches Avodah Zarah 54b; see the mishnah there, and the subsequent Gemara

ת"ח stands for _____

Originally published in July 2013.

When you see the abbreviation ת"ח, how do you read it? I’d venture to guess that most people read it as "תלמיד חכם". And if asked to translate the term "תלמיד חכם" literally, I think most people would translate it as “a wise student” or “a learned student.” 

Well, it appears that the Rambam might differ.

If you've ever learned with me in person, you'll know I'm a big fan of the critical editions of the Rambam’s Mishneh Torah. Although I am happy to use the Qafih and Mechon Mamre editions and have been known to occasionally use the Frankel, my personal favorite is the one-volume edition printed by Or Vishua.

One day I noticed something peculiar: none of these critical editions of the Mishneh Torah render ת"ח as"תלמיד חכם". Instead, all of them render it as "תלמיד חכמים". Apparently, that is what the Rambam held.

How should we translate "תלמיד חכמים"? Unlike the common translation of "תלמיד חכם", in which "חכם" is read as an adjective, the "חכמים" in "תלמיד חכמים" cannot be read as an adjective, since "תלמיד" is singular and "חכמים" is plural. The only viable translation of "תלמיד חכמים" is “a student of the wise.”

Personally, I prefer תלמיד חכמים over תלמיד חכם for a number of reasons. First of all, "תלמיד חכם" places the emphasis on the degree of intellectual perfection possessed by the individual (i.e. he is a “wise student,” as opposed to an “average student,” “simple student,” “foolish student,” etc.), whereas "תלמיד חכמים" emphasizes the activity which characterizes him. Who is a תלמיד חכמים? – Not a person who has attained a particular level of intellectual achievement, but one who is drawn to all חכמים in search of חכמה.

Secondly, "תלמיד חכם" refers explicitly to a single individual, but only alludes to that individual’s teacher (i.e. since "תלמיד" is a relative term which implies the existence of a "מלמד" - a teacher). On the other hand, the phrase "תלמיד חכמים" makes explicit reference to the student and his many teachers. I like this because it underscores the nature of the מסורה: each of us is a single student, drawing wisdom from generations of חכמים. I also like it because it highlights the mechanism of מסורה, namely, the teacher-student relationship in which each party broadens the mind of the other.

Thirdly, unlike "תלמיד חכם", the phrase "תלמיד חכמים" is reminiscent of the מצות עשה to cling to חכמים. Here is the Rambam’s formulation of this מצוה in the ספר המצוות:

We are commanded to cling to חכמים, to devote time to being with them, to continually sit with them, and to collaborate with them in any joint venture – whether eating, drinking, or doing business – in order that we may be influenced by them and emulate their actions and to become convinced of the true ideas contained in their words. This is the meaning of the statement, “You shall cling to Him (i.e. to Hashem)” (Devarim 10:20). This commandment was repeated in the statement “to cling to Him” (ibid. 11:22). [The Oral Torah] explains this to mean, “cling to חכמים and their תלמידים,” as was expressed in Sifre. Likewise, they brought a proof from “You shall cling to Him” that a person is obligated to marry the daughter of a תלמיד חכמים and to marry off his own daughter to a תלמיד חכמים, and to feed תלמידי חכמים, and to provide business for them. They said: “Is it possible for a person to cling to the shechinah? Isn’t it written, ‘For Hashem, your God, is a consuming fire’ (ibid. 4:24)? Rather, [this means that] if a person marries the daughter of a תלמיד חכמים, or marries his daughter to a תלמיד חכמים, or benefits him financially, it is as if he clings to the shechinah” (Kesubos 111b).

Similarly, the phrase "תלמיד חכמים" brings to mind many other teachings which emphasize the virtue of cultivating relationships with חכמים, such as “One who walks with חכמים will become wise, but one who befriends fools will be broken” (Mishlei 13:20) and “Let your house be a gathering-place for חכמים; sit in the dust of their feet and drink in their words with thirst” (Avos 1:4).

The אוצר ראשי תבות kind of covered its bases.

Does this mean that the "תלמיד חכמים" is the only correct phrase, or that something is wrong with "תלמיד חכם"? Of course not. Clearly, the phrase "תלמיד חכם" is more prevalent in Torah literature than "תלמיד חכמים". I also don’t know why I've only encountered this phrase in the Rambam’s writings and nowhere else. Perhaps the Rambam got the phrase "תלמיד חכמים" from the תלמיד ירושלמי, since it appears there, but doesn't seem to appear anywhere in the בבלי? If anyone has any explanations here, I'd be interested to hear them.

In any event, my intent in this post is to point out why, if I had to choose which phrase to use, I would choose the "תלמיד חכמים." The connotations of "תלמיד חכמים" carry more meaning for me than those associated with "תלמיד חכם". But to each his own!

The Perfect Piña Colada (Doesn't Exist)

Originally posted in September 2009

The Experience

We recently came back from a trip to Hawaii. It was a short trip, but I managed to get in some solid relaxation time on the beach. On one particularly beautiful day I saw people walking around sipping piña coladas from hollowed out pineapple shells, like the one in this picture. It was such a hot and sunny day and those piña coladas looked so cool and refreshing that I decided to buy one for myself. 

I went over to the bar and asked how much a piña colada costs. The bartender responded, "$13". My first reaction was "!!!" but then I told myself, "What the heck. I'm on vacation," and placed my order. He handed me my cocktail and I eagerly went back to my beach chair to enjoy it. 

It was the perfect piña colada ... for about 30 seconds. Then reality kicked in. 

First of all, the thing was massive. Technically speaking I could hold it in one hand, but it was so big and unwieldy that I was afraid I would drop it, so I held it with both hands instead. This severely compromised my bodily position, making it difficulty to recline in my beach chair and drink at the same time. I was forced to hunch forward in my chair while holding the pineapple in both hands. So much for the drinking-while-luxuriating.

Shortly thereafter I began to get annoyed by the freezing temperature of the shell. You see, it would be inefficient to hollow out a fresh pineapple on the spot for every customer, so instead, all of the pineapple shells are hollowed out ahead of time and then frozen until an order is placed. When I first got my piña colada, the pineapple shell was actually encrusted with ice. This made my grip even harder to tolerate.

Then the pineapple started to thaw. If I were drinking from an ordinary glass, I would just get a little bit of condensation-water on my hands, which wouldn't be a big deal, but this was not an ordinary glass; it was a natural fruit co-opted for an unnatural purpose. As the shell thawed, the pineapple juice began dripping onto my hands. That alone wouldn't have been so bad, but as it continued to thaw, the juice ran down my arms, reaching my elbows and quickly drying into a sticky residue.

That wasn't the only ill effect of the melting fruit. As I continued to sip the piña colada, I started to detect the taste of old, freezer-burned pineapple. Apparently, these fruits were not frozen that morning, but were prepared days or weeks in advance. I suddenly realized that the thawing pineapple put me on a clock: the slower I drank, the more my piña colada would be polluted by freezer-taste, but the faster I drank, the less I would enjoy it. It was a lose-lose situation.

Then there was the act of drinking, itself. If I were drinking from an ordinary glass, a straw would have facilitated drinking, but this was not an ordinary glass. The bottom of the hollowed-out pineapple shell was uneven and chunky with shredded pineapple flesh. As I got towards the bottom of my drink, my straw started to get clogged by strands of pineapple, making it necessary for me to periodically cleanse my straw by forcefully and repeatedly expelling air. This became a task in and of itself: to maximize the liquid intake and minimize the pineapple blockage in each sip. Eventually, I realized that I was so caught up in the tedium of this chore that I wasn't even enjoying my drink anymore; I become so preoccupied with the means of drinking that the end became meaningless.

Finally, after resigning myself to the fact that it wasn't worth it to try to get the rest of the liquid, I decided that I was done. But could I then sit back in my chair and resume my relaxation? No sir. My hands and arms were covered with sticky pineapple juice, remember? I had to go and find water to wash them off. As I got and tossed the emptied shell into the trash, I kept on asking myself, "Was this worth $13?"

The Insight

Later on that day, I remembered the piña colada ordeal and decided to reflect on it to see what I could learn from the experience. I recalled the Rambam's definition of imagination (koach ha'dimayon or "the imaginative faculty") as stated in the first chapter of Shemoneh Perakim: 

The imagination encompasses the capacity to retain impressions of sensory experiences when they have vanished from the senses involved, and to combine some and separate others. It is the capacity that enables a person to combine certain experiences he has had along with others he never had nor ever could grasp - for example, to imagine an iron ship sailing [translator's note: sailing, not flying!] in the air, or an individual whose head is in the heavens while his feet are on the ground, or an animal with a thousand eyes, as well as many other such impossible things that are remembered when the imagination combines things and produces a fantasy.

Rabbi Yoni Sacks once compared the imaginative faculty to computer imaging software, like Adobe Photoshop. Photoshop allows you to take an image and manipulate it at will. You can turn it this way and that. You can crop the image, blocking out the parts you don't want to see. You can enlarge one part and make the image sharper while diminishing and blurring another part. You can even import other images from your memory and combine those images with this one to produce new creations. But unlike the images edited on Photoshop, which we know to be false, the images produced by our imaginative faculty can seem very real - so real, that we often mistake them for reality itself.

My experience with the piña colada - well, I should say, my fantasy of the piña colada prior to the actual experience - is a perfect example of the imaginative faculty in action. Rewind to beginning of the story. There I was, happily relaxing in the sun, when I saw people drinking piña coladas out of pineapple shells. These sense impressions were recorded and preserved in my memory as raw material for my imaginative faculty, which then proceeded to select only those images which I found pleasing, ignoring the unpleasant details. My imagination conjured up a tantalizing fantasy, in which I was the one relaxing and sipping my piña colada - an experience which, in my fantasy-world, only enhanced my relaxation without adding any pain or conflict.

But this fantasy was just that: a fantasy - a nonexistent product of the imagination. Had I subjected this fantasy (or the initial sensory data) to the light of reason, I could have easily detected the inevitable, unpleasant aspects of purchasing the piña colada. I could have foreseen the consequences of the decision, weighed them against the pleasure to be gained, and made an informed, reality-based decision. [I'm not saying that the decision to buy the piña colada was intrinsically bad. I might have even concluded that the piña colada would have been worth it, but I would have at least known what I was getting myself into: that in paying $13 for a tasty drink, I was also buying the experience of cold fingers, sticky hands, a frustrating straw, and a time-limit on my enjoyment.]

The Principle

What is true for piña coladas is true for all pleasures. Human beings are driven to pursue pleasure and avoid pain. The Rishonim refer to the source of this drive as the koach ha'misorer ("the emotive faculty) or the koach ha'misaveh ("the appetitive faculty"). If the appetitive faculty only drove us to seek real pleasures, that would be difficult enough to contend with. Unfortunately, most of the pleasures we seek are not really existing experiences, but fantasies - figments of our imagination. Not only do these fantasies greatly exaggerate the amount of pleasure to be gained, but they gloss over all of the painful details and harmful consequences and present the imagined experience as flawless, as my piña colada fantasy illustrates.

At the same time, we mustn't forget that the imaginative faculty is not intrinsically bad, and that without our imagination, the pursuit of human perfection would be impossible. The imaginative faculty is what allows us to recall sensory data which we can analyze in order to gain knowledge and understanding. Without the imaginative faculty, learning would be impossible; the rational faculty would have nothing to work with. Without the imaginative faculty I would not have been able to learn anything from the piña colada episode. I would have had the experience and immediately forgotten it. The same imaginative faculty which produced the fantasies that led me away from reality also functioned as a tool used by my mind to gain insight into reality.

The Ralbag summarizes all of these points in his introduction to the story of Gan Eden:

It has already been explained in On the Soul (3:7) that the imaginative faculty and the emotive faculty are the causes of motion in animals, be it moving towards an object or away from it. This occurs when the imaginative faculty generates a certain image of a perceptible thing, which causes the appetitive faculty to move the animal towards this image or to flee from it. Since it is in this manner that a person can be drawn after the physical pleasures, which remove him from his proper course of human development, the appetitive faculty is the yetzer ha’ra ("evil inclination"), and the imaginative faculty is its guide. It is therefore clear that the imaginative faculty can function in two separate frameworks: either as an instrument utilized in man’s development, or as an instrument which removes him from his path of proper development.

Sforno (Bereishis 3:1), citing a pithy allegory of the Sages, explains this idea in reference to the nachash (snake) in Gan Eden: 

"The Satan, the yetzer ha'ra, [and the malach ha'maves] are one and the same" (Bava Basra 16a) ... The yetzer ha'ra which causes one to sin is called "nachash," since it resembles a snake, which yields minimal benefit, causes great harm, and is almost completely unseen. The Sages said that Samael rides on top of it (Pirkei de'Rebbi Eliezer 12). [In other words,] the appetitive faculty causes one to sin by means of the imaginative faculty, which incites it with fantasies of physical pleasures, causing one to deviate from the path of perfection intended by God, Blessed is He. The appetitive faculty, along with the fantasies of physical pleasures which incite it, commands the bodily powers and causes them to stray from the objective and from the will of God, Blessed is He, unless the rational faculty stands firm against it and opposes it. Accordingly, the Sages say, "The eyes and the heart are the agents of sin" (Talmud Yerushalmi, Berachos 1:8). Concerning this, the Torah warns us, "And you shall not stray after your hearts and after your eyes" (Bamidbar 15:39).

The Sages refer to the imaginative faculty as "Samael" (suma + El) - that which blinds us to God's reality, or deceives us into believing that God is blind. The snake-like appetitive faculty, or yetzer ha'ra, is allegorically described as a nachash. Samael rides on top of the nachash and steers it in its pleasure-seeking with alluring fantasies. Together, they cause us to sin. The internal forces which moved me to seek out that piña colada are the same forces which cause all sin.

So in the end, considering all of the insight I gained, was the piña colada worth the $13? You bet. Every cent, and infinitely more.

Don't Believe in Yourself

Originally posted in May 2013. Click here for a printer-friendly version of this article.

Artwork: Flux, by Richard Kane Ferguson

Don't Believe in Yourself

In Avos 2:4 we are taught in the name of Hillel: "אַל תַּאֲמֵן בְּעַצְמָךְ עַד יוֹם מוֹתָךְ" which means: "Don't believe in yourself until the day of your death." In order to understand this statement, we must answer three basic questions: 

1. What does Hillel mean by "don't believe in yourself"? "Believe in yourself" in regards to what? Practically speaking, what is he instructing us not to do?
   
2. What does "until the day of your death" add? Hillel could have simply said, "Never believe in yourself" or he could have said "Don't believe in yourself" and it would have been understood that this advice applies for the duration of our lives. What is gained by incorporating "until the day of your death" into his formulation?
   
3. Why shouldn't we believe in ourselves until the day of our death? Why should I listen to Hillel's advice? What are the consequences of ignoring his admonition? 

Rashi doesn't directly explain what Hillel means. Instead, he provides an example:

Don’t believe in yourself until the day of your death – for Yochanan, the Kohen Gadol, served as the Kohen Gadol for 80 years, but ultimately became a Tzeduki (a heretical sect of Jews who lived during the time of the second Beis ha'Mikdash).

How does this clarify our understanding of Hillel's statement? How is Yochanan becoming a Tzeduki an example of failing to heed Hillel's warning?

The answers to these questions emerge from a careful reading of Hillel's statement. According to Rashi, Hillel meant exactly what he said. "אַל תַּאֲמֵן בְּעַצְמָךְ" means: do not believe in the existence of a "true self" - a permanent, immutable essence which constitutes who you "really" are. 

In truth, there is no unchanging and authentic "core" of your being. Who you are is in a constant state of flux. You will become whatever kind of person you choose to become, or whatever you allow yourself to become.

This idea is part and parcel of the fundamental principle of bechirah (free will). In Hilchos Teshuvah 5:2 the Rambam writes:

Each and every person is fit to be a tzadik (righteous person) like Moshe Rabbeinu or a rasha (wicked person) like Yeravam, or wise, or foolish, or merciful, or cruel, or stingy, or generous, and likewise with all other qualities.

If a person feels that his virtuous qualities - such as righteousness, wisdom, mercy, and generosity - are an intrinsic part of "who he is," then he is mistaken. Likewise, if a person believes that he cannot become a rasha like Yeravam, then he is operating under a false idea of what it means to have bechirah.

Rashi brings down the example of Yochanan to illustrate this point. Yochanan served as the Kohen Gadol - the paragon of kedushah (holiness) and avodas Hashem (service of God) - for 80 years. If you asked an average Jew on the street whether Yochanan could ever become a heretic, you would receive a resounding, "Of course not! What are you, crazy?" And yet, at the end of his life, Yochanan became a Tzeduki. This doesn't necessarily imply that his former righteousness was a façade, but it certainly refutes the notion that commitment to Toras Moshe was an unalterable part of his very being.

Rashi's example is meant to trigger a certain realization in ourselves. If Yochanan - a tzadik of the highest caliber, who served in the kodesh ha'kodashim (Holy of Holies) for 80 years - could transform into a total apikores (heretic), in spite of his superb track record, kal va'chomer people such as ourselves! 

And yet, we manage to convince ourselves otherwise without any hesitation. "I'm not the type of person who would violate Shabbos!" "I wouldn't take revenge; that's just not me." "I would never cheat on my spouse! What kind of a person do you think I am?" All of these types of self-assurances fall into Hillel's category of "believing in oneself."

Hillel's principle supports a notion I've entertained for quite some time. To my mind, it is more accurate to think of oneself not as a human being, but as a human becoming. We humans are never frozen in a permanent state of being. We are always in flux - a state of continual becoming.

We are now in a position to answer all three of the questions we asked on the mishnah.

1. What does Hillel mean by "don't believe in yourself"? He takes this statement literally: do not believe in the existence of an incorruptible "true self." His use of the verb תַּאֲמֵן is quite appropriate. The root א.מ.נ. means "firm" and "permanent," as in, "וַיְהִי יָדָיו אֱמוּנָה עַד בֹּא הַשָּׁמֶשׁ" - "And his hands were firm until sunrise" (Shemos 17:12) and "הַאֲמִינוּ בַּה' אֱלֹהֵיכֶם וְתֵאָמֵנוּ" - "Have firm conviction in Hashem, your God, and you will be strengthened" (II Divrei ha'Yamim 20:20, as translated by Radak in Sefer ha'Shorashim א.מ.נ.). 
   
2. What does "until the day of your death" add? The reason why he says, "until the day of your death" is because that is when the process of human becoming ends. Only at that point is it possible to look back and know for certain what we truly were. This is the appropriate place for the concept of a "true self." Your "true self" is what you made of yourself with the entirety of your life.
   
3. Why shouldn't we believe in ourselves until the day of our death? It is never wise to take absolute security in anything, and the self is no exception. If I believe that I am immune to corruption, then there is a good chance that I will let down my guard to the agents of change. I might suddenly fall victim to a danger which I was unprepared to face. I might gradually change over time until I have become a different person without even realizing it. I might even rationalize a self-destructive change by faking myself into believing that the change stems from "my true self." In any event, feelings of invulnerability render one vulnerable to the enemy, and in this battle, the stakes are as high as can be. 

One final point to consider: Hillel's statement also applies in the opposite direction. Just because a person has lived as a rasha or a chotei (sinner) for many years does not mean that his way of life reflects his "true self," nor does it mean that change is impossible. As the Rambam wrote: "Each and every person is fit to be a tzadik like Moshe Rabbeinu or a rasha like Yeravam" - the potential for change runs both ways. Perhaps this is what R' Shimon meant when he said: "do not be wicked in your own eyes" (Avos 2:13). 

At the end of the day, remember: it's not over until the end of the day.

Rational Conviction in "Far-fetched" Prophecies

In the wake of the Charleston church shooting on June 17th, 2015, the media has been abuzz with talk about the so-called "Confederate Battle Flag." In the days to follow, large retailers began removing products from their inventory which featured the flag. Wal-Mart, Amazon, Sears, and eBay all announced policy-changes whereby the sale of Confederate Flag merchandise would be discontinued. 

Naturally, there was an uproar from both ends of the political spectrum. Some applauded these bans as a sign of "progress" and "justice." Others felt that they were overreactions - or worse yet, infringements on the American freedom of expression. 

Amid all of this Confederate Flag fracas, I came across an amusing photo of a comment made to Wal-Mart's Facebook page:

I found this to be quite funny. Grassroots over-the-top satire at its finest. 

But it got me thinking: What about all of the (seemingly) far-fetched prophecies in Tanach? To an outsider, these sound just as ridiculous as the aforementioned example. Consider the following prophetic predictions, and imagine what a skeptic might say:

• "When you beget children and grandchildren and will have been long in the Land, you will grow corrupt and make a carved image, a likeness of anything, and you will do evil in the eyes of Hashem, your God, to anger Him. I appoint heaven and earth this day to bear witness against you that you will surely perish quickly from the Land to which you are crossing the Jordan to possess; you shall not have lengthy days upon it, for you will be destroyed. Hashem will scatter you among the peoples, and you will be left few in number among the nations where Hashem will lead you. There you will serve gods, the handiwork of man, of wood and stone, which do not see, and do not hear, and do not eat, and do not smell" (Devarim 4:25).
  
  
  "Really? All of that is going to happen just because I make a nice little statue to display in my foyer? You really think that my innocent little artistic gesture will lead to mass exile for my offspring and the persecution of my people at the hands of our enemies?"
  
  
• "Do not become contaminated through any of these [illicit sexual practices]; for through all of these the nations that I expel before you became contaminated. The land became contaminated and I recalled its iniquity upon it; and the land disgorged its inhabitants. But you shall safeguard My decrees and My judgments, and not commit any of these abominations - the native or the proselyte who lives among you. For the inhabitants of the land who are before you committed all these abominations, and the land became contaminated. Let not the land disgorge you for having contaminated it, as it disgorged the nation that was before you" (Vayikra 18:27-28).
  
  
  "Really? REALLY?! So the Gay Pride Parade in Tel Aviv will lead to the downfall of the State of Israel? A man who sleeps with his own wife while she's a niddah will bring about yet another mass exile for the Jewish people? C'MON!"
  
  
• "If despite this you will not heed Me, and you behave toward Me with casualness, I will behave toward you with a fury of casualness; I will chastise you, even I, seven ways for your sins. You will eat the flesh of your sons; and the flesh of your daughters will you eat. I will destroy your lofty buildings and decimate your sun-idols, I will cast your carcasses upon the carcasses of your idols, and My Spirit will reject you. I will lay your cities in ruin and I will make your sanctuaries desolate; I will not savor your satisfying aromas. I will make the land desolate; and your foes who dwell upon it will be desolate. And you, I will scatter among the nations, I will unsheathe the sword after you; your land will be desolate and your cities will be a ruin" (ibid. 26:27-33).
  
  
  "Cannibalism? INTER-GENERATIONAL cannibalism, no less? You're telling me that if I don't keep halacha, then I'm going to end up devouring my own progeny, and my country will become a desolate wasteland?"

These are but a few examples of drastic prophecies from the Torah itself, but just flip through the writings of the Neviim and you encounter dozens - if not hundreds - of predictions which sound just as extreme in their dire warnings.

Now, if you are working with a model of hashgachah pratis by which God will cause these things to happen through direct intervention in the laws of nature, then these prophecies aren't problematic in the slightest. God will simply intervene as much as needed to bring about these results. However, if you are working with a model of hashgachah pratis by which this type of divine punishment is meted out by God withdrawing His hashgachah and allowing nature to take its course (a.k.a. "hester panim"), then it becomes even more difficult to differentiate one set of catastrophic predictions from another without suppressing the rational faculty. 

This brings us to our central question. We, as Jews, believe that the Torah's cataclysmic prophecies ARE different than the facetious prediction made by the Facebook commenter above - and yet, many of them strain our credulity just the same. Is there a basis on which we can differentiate between fallacious slippery slope predictions and genuine prophecies without suspending our disbelief? 

To be clear: I am not looking for a way to tell the difference between prophecy and non-prophecy. That we already have, thanks to Torah mi'Sinai, and the halachos of prophecy (see the Rambam's Hilchos Yesodei ha'Torah Chapter 7 and Chapter 8). Rather, I am looking for a means by which we can have a genuine rational conviction in true prophecies, without any stretching of the mind, without double-standards of belief, and (to be frank) without coming off like crazy religious fanatics. 

Artwork: False Prophet, by Eric Peterson

I believe that the answer is: yes! The answer lies in the recognition of three truths: (1) the law of unintended consequences is real, (2) history is often stranger than fiction, and (3) God's knowledge is different from human knowledge. Allow me to explain what I mean. 

The Wikipedia article on "unintended consequences" states: 

In the social sciences, unintended consequences (sometimes unanticipated consequences, unforeseen consequences, or accidents) are outcomes that are not the ones foreseen and intended by a purposeful action.

Here are a few diverse examples from the past 100 years of American history:

• Prohibition: The nation-wide ban of alcohol in the United States during the 1920's gave rise to Organized Crime, which has been responsible for innumerable deaths, injustices, and the spread of lawlessness throughout the country. 
  
  
• The Pill: The invention of oral contraceptives had huge ripple effects: it altered the public view of sex, it led to a shift in gender roles and acted as a catalyst for gender equality, in led to a rise in premarital sex - along with all of its unintended consequences (e.g. increase in out-of-wedlock pregnancies, STD, sexual violence, etc.) - and it undoubtedly shook up the prevailing views of marriage, the family structure, and the dynamics of population growth. 
  
  
• Passenger-side Airbags: In 1991 a federal law was introduced which mandated the installation of passenger-side airbags in automobiles, which led to an increase in deaths of children who couldn't withstand the force of the airbag, which encouraged the practice of having kids sit in the back seat, which led to an increase in the deaths of children who were forgotten in the car.
  
  
• "Charlie Wilson's War": In the 1980's, billions of dollars of aid was delivered to the Afghan Mujahideen - a move which ultimately gave rise to Al-Qaeda and the Taliban, which resulted in the 3,000 deaths in the September 11 attacks, plus the thousands of other deaths in the "War on Terror" which ensued. 

If, at the time of these events, a person confidently predicted that these specific consequences would happen, imagine how his predictions would be mocked and ridiculed: 

• "Banning alcohol will cause American cities to become filled with murder, theft, and crime?"
  
  
• "Stopping unwanted pregnancies will bring pestilence upon the land, destroy families, and possibly culminate in the election of a female president?" 
  
  
• "Making cars safer will lead to a nationwide uptick in infanticide?!"
  
  
• "Arming a bunch of rebels in the middle of nowhere will result in a terrorist attack of epic proportions on U.S. soil, which will lead to over a decade of new wars and mass casualties?" 

Indeed, such a doomsayer's confident predictions would be worthy of ridicule, even if he ended up being correct. There are SO many factors which might have affected how each of these scenarios played out that it would be foolish for any person to hold such strong convictions about any possible outcome. Historical hindsight is 20-20, but historical foresight is hopelessly myopic.

This is where God enters the picture. While human beings lack the knowledge to be able to definitively predict the long-reaching ripple effects of any event or societal change, God is Omniscient, and His knowledge is not limited like ours. For this reason, He can state with absolute certainty what will happen.

It is at this point that the skeptics would point their fingers and paint me as a religious fanatic for invoking divine omniscience. I can see them rolling their eyes and saying in a sardonic tone, "Oh, yeah, sure, well if GOD says it can happen then it can DEFINITELY happen! Such a SOPHISTICATED answer which puts to rest ALL doubt."

No, that is not what I am saying at all. I am not saying, "The Lawd said it's going to happen, and the LAAWWWWD knows what He knows!" That would not answer the question that this blog post sets out to answer. Listen very closely while I state my argument in four sentences:

• It is not far-fetched to believe that such strange unintended consequences CAN happen, for we see that they DO happen; rather, it is only problematic for a human being, with limited knowledge, to PREDICT such dire and dramatic consequences on the basis of our extremely shortsighted speculation.
  
• The only thing a person would need in order to have a rational conviction in such predictions is a credible source.
  
• Prophecy is a credible source, insofar as its authority stems from Torah mi'Sinai.
  
• Thus, one who is convinced of the veracity of Torah mi'Sinai should have no trouble accepting the veracity of prophetic predictions, without any need to stretch one's credulity - no matter how implausible these predictions may sound.

I am not claiming that we will be able to see how the fulfillment of these prophecies will come about. I am merely claiming that we should have no problem believing that they can come about. For example, we, with our limited knowledge, might not be able to see how laxity in mitzvos will lead to filial cannibalism, but we know that such things DO happen, and that they can come about as a ripple effect of a complex concatenation of events. Thus, when the Torah says, "you will eat the flesh of your sons; and the flesh of your daughters will you eat," we should have no trouble accepting the truth of this statement, without engaging in any mental gymnastics. Just as we can read about instances of unintended consequences in the past and accept them without hesitation, so too, we ought to be able to look at prophetic statements about future "unintended consequences" and accept them fully. 

I believe that having this awareness in mind while learning the writings of the Neviim will help make their prophecies more real to our minds. By remembering the law of unintended consequences, the stranger-than-fiction character of history, and the omniscience of the God Who communicated to these prophets, we can relate to the predictions of the Neviim as though we are reading prospective history book, and not a work of fiction. 

Parashas Chukas: The Reason for Parah Adumah

Originally posted in July 2013.

Parashas Chukas: The Reason for Parah Adumah

Parashas Chukas begins with the mysterious mitzvah of the parah adumah (red heifer). We are commanded to sacrifice and burn a parah adumah so that its ash should be available for anyone who needs to be purified from tumas meis (halachic impurity resulting from coming in contact with a corpse). This parah must meet a highly specific list of requirements in order to be eligible for the mitzvah. For example: it must be completely red; it must be tamim (“perfect”) without any physical blemishes; it must be purchased using communal funds – not the general "Sanctuary maintenance" funds; and it must never have borne a yoke on its neck or performed any labor. [1] The aim of this short dvar Torah is to explain one of the basic reasons for the parah adumah.

To this one might object: “How is that even possible? I was taught that nobody knows the reason for the parah adumah – not even Shlomo ha’Melech!” This is partially correct, but not entirely. It is true that Shlomo ha’Melech understood the reasons for all 613 mitzvos except for the parah adumah, as was taught in the Midrash Tanchumah. [2] However, that very same midrash teaches: “The Holy One, blessed is He, told Moshe: ‘To you I will reveal the reason for the parah, but not to others.’” [3] Upon reflection, this makes sense: Moshe Rabbeinu was on the highest level of knowledge, and was taught the entire Torah by Hashem. Of course he understood the reasons for all of the mitzvos!

Not only that, but the same midrash goes on to state that the hidden reasons for all of the mitzvos, including parah adumah, were understood by R’ Akiva and his colleagues. Although the midrash appears to contradict itself, one thing is clear: the reason for the parah adumah may be difficult to grasp, but it can be understood, and has been, by a number of chachamim.

But wait – there’s more! Rashi, himself, provides an explanation for parah adumah in his Chumash commentary, and that is what we will focus on here. Rashi begins by explaining why this korban must be a female, whereas all other communal korbanos are male:

This can be compared to the son of a maidservant who soiled the king’s palace. They said, “Let this mother come and clean up the mess!” Similarly, let the parah come and atone for the [Golden] Calf. [4]

This is the crux of Rashi’s approach: the parah adumah was designed as a kaparah (atonement) for the Cheit ha’Eigel (Sin of the Golden Calf). Rashi then goes on to explain each requirement of the parah adumah in accordance with this theory.

The color red represents sin, as it is stated, “If [your sins] have become as red as crimson, they will become [white] as wool.” [5] The physical perfection of the parah is an allusion to Bnei Yisrael, who were “perfect” until they became “blemished” by the Cheit ha’Eigel. The requirement to purchase the parah from communal funds parallels the fact that Bnei Yisrael donated their own jewelry to make the Eigel. The requirement that the parah must never have borne a yoke alludes to the fact that Bnei Yisrael cast off the Ole Shamayim (Yoke of Heaven) when they worshiped the Eigel. Rashi goes on to explain all of the other requirements of the parah adumah in this manner.

We have only scratched the surface of understanding the reasons behind parah adumah according to Rashi’s theory. However, what is (perhaps) more important than Rashi’s particular ideas is his overall approach to chukim. In spite of our tradition that only a few individuals throughout history understood the reason for parah adumah, Rashi nevertheless analyzed the subject with his own mind. By analyzing the major structural components of the mitzvah as taught in Torah she’baal Peh (the Oral Torah), and drawing upon his knowledge of clues in Torah she’bi’Chsav (the Written Torah), Rashi was able to arrive at his own theory about the intended purpose of this enigmatic mitzvah.

Rashi’s approach to the parah adumah may serve as a model for how we approach all chukim. The Rambam writes: “Even though all of the chukim of the Torah are decrees … it is proper to think into them and to provide reasons for them wherever you are able to do so.” [6] If we seek to understand the chukim of our Torah, we must analyze them with our own minds through the lenses of Torah she’bi’Chsav and Torah she’baal Peh, guided by the Talmudic traditions of Chazal – just as Rashi, Rebbi Akiva, and Shlomo ha’Melech did.

May we all merit to discover reasons for all of the chukim, so that we may reap the full benefits intended by the One Who commanded them!

[1] Sefer Bamidbar 19:1-22

[2] Tanchumah: Chukas 6; Bamidbar Rabbah 19:3; Koheles Rabbah 7:23; Psikta d’Rav Kahana 4.

[3] Tanchumah: Chukas 8; Bamidbar Rabbah 19:6; Psikta d’Rav Kahanah ibid.

[4] Rabbeinu Shlomo Yitzchaki (Rashi), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 19:22; the midrashim which are the basis for Rashi’s explanation can be found in the Midrash Aggadah and Tanchuma 8, as well as in Bamidbar Rabbah 19:8.

[5] Sefer Yeshayahu 1:18

[6] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Korbanos, Hilchot Temurah 4:14

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.