My article from this week's Toronto Torah:
Feeling like an astronaut does not mean I’ve been to the moon (to borrow from Rabbi Ephraim Buchwald), and studying the laws of Lulav is not halachically equal to picking up a palm branch and waving it. When dealing with korbanot, though, it seems that feeling = doing.
Vayyikra Rabbah (7:3) illustrates this point, saying, “Since you involve yourselves in studying them, I consider it as though you had actually brought them.” This message is reminiscent of Hosheia’s surprising statement, as explained in Yoma 86b, that reciting the pesukim of the korbanot is considered equivalent to performing their rituals.
Similarly, the Mateh Ephraim (621:10) says that one should study, in advance of Yom Kippur, the version of the Avodah which matches the version in the Avodah poem he will read on musaf of Yom Kippur.
This idea is most unusual within Judaism’s view of mitzvah fulfillment, though. We do not apply this concept of “study = fulfillment” to any other temporarily inaccessible mitzvah, such as Hakhel or Mechiyyat Amalek. How do we understand the korban-specific equation between recitation and practice?
One answer may emerge from the Rambam’s discussion of why HaShem decreed the existence of korbanot, at all. Rambam was troubled by Yirmiyahu’s declaration (7:22-23), “For on the day I removed your fathers from Egypt, I did not speak to them and I did not command them regarding burnt offerings and celebration sacrifices. Only this did I instruct them, saying: Hear My voice and I will be your G-d, and you will be My nation.” Yirmiyahu seems to say that HaShem does not desire korbanot - but the Torah itself, and particularly Sefer Vayyikra, is testimony to the contrary!
Rambam (Moreh haNevuchim 3:32) explained that Yirmiyahu was trying to teach us the importance of the thought that accompanies, and validates, a korban. “The primary object is that you should know Me and serve no other, and I will be your Gd and you will be My nation. I instructed you in all of these rituals in My Name, until the name of idolatry would be erased and the principle of My Oneness would remain, so that this principle would endure in your hands.”
In other words, to borrow from Sanhedrin 106b, “רחמנא ליבא בעי,” HaShem desires the heart. The goal of the korban is to bring us closer to Gd; absent that goal, the korban itself is meaningless. [Of course, this emphasis upon the heart does not render the korban ritual meaningless; viduy without a korban chatat is as meaningless as a korban chatat without viduy. Nonetheless, the thought is essential to the korban.]
We see evidence of the importance of our feelings in the names that the Torah and our sages used to identify the korbanot themselves. Whereas ritual mitzvot are often named for the objects they employ – Matzah, Lulav, Menorah – the korbanot are primarily named for the emotions and thoughts they represent: Chatat [sin-offering], Asham [guilt-offering], Todah [thanks-offering], Shelamim [peace-offering], Neder and Nedavah [voluntary vows to Gd]. [The korbanot which do not follow this model – such as Pesach, Bechor, Maaser – tend to involve other mitzvot beyond the korban itself.]
Perhaps this is why we can, in the temporary absence of a Beit haMikdash, study about the korbanot and merit Divine credit as though we had brought those offerings ourselves. If the korban’s primary element is its thought and emotion, and the secondary element, its ritual, is unavailable, then our engagement in the primary piece may suffice for now.
May Gd’s will be that we soon see the re-building of the Beit haMikdash and the restoration of our korbanot in both ritual and emotion, the primary and secondary elements united once again in the Land of Israel in our service of HaShem.
Showing posts with label Mitzvot: Kavvanah (Intent). Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mitzvot: Kavvanah (Intent). Show all posts
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Scottie Pippen, Jari Kurri and the Jews (Derashah: Ki Tetze 5770)
I'll be delivering the derashah in a shul this Shabbos, so here's a preview:
The Dubna Magid tells of a thief who encountered a wagon driver, whacked the driver over the head and took off down the road with his horses. After a few days of pursuit the driver eventually catches up with the thief - who turns to him and says, “Well, it’s about time; I’ve been exercising your horses for three days! My fee is $500.”
We don’t really reward the thief’s unintended “service” – but we do reward unintended tzedakah; Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah said as much in commenting on the mitzvah of שכחה.
In שכחה, a harvester who forgets stalks of grain gets credit for accidental tzedakah. Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah took that further in a Sifri, saying (ה)מאבד סלע מתוך ידו ומצאה עני והלך ונתפרנס בה מעלה עליו הכתוב כאלו זכה – If I lose a coin and a pauper finds it and uses it, I get credit as though I had given tzedakah.
Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah’s central point is about the nature of tzedakah, but his observation also highlights another important issue: The role of the tzedakah recipient, without whom this act of tzedakah does not exist.
At the moment when our gentleman dropped his coin, he was a schlemiel. But then the עני picked up the coin – and now, instant philanthropist! Or to borrow from quantum physics, the owner of the coin is in an unresolved state when he drops the coin, until either that coin rolls into a sewer drain unnoticed and so he’s a schlemiel, or a pauper takes the coin and thereby resolves him into a baal tzedakah.
Bottom line: The עני/pauper completes the donor’s mitzvah. Indeed, some suggest that this is why we don’t recite a berachah upon the mitzvah of giving tzedakah – because there must also be a recipient, and we cannot thank HaShem for creating a needy person. Without a needy person, the mitzvah cannot happen; it’s a joint effort.
Viewing a mitzvah as a joint effort is part of a larger halachic and philosophical picture which portrays all Jews as interlocking puzzle pieces, individual spirits that are part of a greater soul, nanomachines whose cooperative contributions create collective success in the mission of fulfilling Torah. It’s the way we view community, and Jewish community in particular. We are not independent pieces; Rambam calls the person who performs mitzvos on his own a פורש מן הציבור. We interconnect, and we contribute to each other’s righteousness, knowingly and unknowingly, in order to bring the greater mission to fruition.
This interconnectedness mandates the Torah’s overarching לפני עור prohibition; ולפני עור לא תתן מכשול, I am not allowed to do anything which will cause others to stumble in sin. My responsibility is not only to my own righteousness, but also to burnish the righteousness of others around me until it shines.
And this interconnectedness mandates the concept of כל ישראל ערבין זה בזה, of mutual mitzvah responsibility. I can fulfill mitzvos on behalf of others, such as by reciting kiddush for them, and Rav Soloveitchik explained that this is because my mitzvah of kiddush is incomplete so long as someone else has yet to fulfill his mitzvah. We all interlock.
Within this greater interconnectedness, I am not only capable of turning others into tzaddikim, but Halachah demands that I turn others into tzaddikim. An עני doesn’t only have the option of picking up the coin and so turning a schlemiel into a philanthropist – he is actually obligated to do so.
This interconnectedness has daily practical applications:
• A Yom Tov meal that shared with others fulfills the Torah’s mandate of inviting others to join our celebration.
• A kohen serves as a kohen only if people come to him to bring a korban on their behalf.
• When we daven with a community, it’s תפילה בציבור only when people are participating. The Shulchan Aruch writes regarding the repetition of Shemoneh Esreih that people’s responses of Amen are what make the chazzan’s berachos valid.
• Or think about lashon hara; when I refuse to listen to the latest scandal du jour, I save the other person from a significant עבירה.
• Or look at talmud torah – When I listen to the rebbe, I convert him into a מגיד שיעור, enabling him to fulfill the great mitzvah of teaching Torah.
This is why we create kehillos, shuls, batei midrash and chavrusos, gemachs and chevros kadisha ר"ל, vaadim and so on – because we need others in order to make our mitzvos complete, and because we are obligated to do the same on their behalf. All of us, multiple times each day, have opportunities to play the role of the עני, helping others to go from schlemiels to tzaddikim by cooperating in their mitzvos.
I know Canadians don’t pay much attention to basketball, but in this mission we are like Scottie Pippen, who was admitted to the Basketball Hall of Fame last week.
Scottie Pippen made his career as second fiddle to Michael Jordan, winning six championships with him. Pippen was a great player in his own right, one of the greatest defensive players ever and a fantastic shooter, even named recently as one of the Top 50 basketball players of all time – but his claim to fame is as the man who made someone else shine.
For hockey fans, think of what Jari Kurri did for Wayne Gretzky.
Being Scottie Pippen or Jari Kurri is what Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah’s tzedakah recipient does for the accidental בעל צדקה, it’s what we do when we answer Amen or listen to a shiur or decline to hear לשון הרע - we assist others in their mitzvos, we help them shine, and so we make the greater, interconnected whole a success.
-
Notes:
1. The Dubna Magid's story, in its original form (which I have altered somewhat), appears in Mishlei Yaakov to Ki Tetze, on Bilam's attempt to gain credit for blessing the Jews. Bilam does not get credit, since he intended to harm us.
2. Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah's comment is in Sifri Ki Tetze 73; note that Rashi to Devarim 24:19 uses a slightly altered version. Also, I saw one writer who sought to read the Sifri's כאלו as though this was not wholly considered tzedakah, but I do not believe this read is correct.
4. On the issue of intent in tzedakah, note that we look at tzedakah not as Latin caritas, an act of charitable love for the needy, and not as Arabic zakat, an act of intentional sacrifice, but as tzedek, a natural transfer of HaShem’s wealth to those who deserve it. As Pirkei Avos says, תן לו משלו שאתה ושלך שלו, all that we distribute really belongs to HaShem. So I don’t need to give it lovingly, willingly, or even knowingly; tzedakah is tzedakah, regardless.
5. On the role of the pauper in enabling tzedakah, see also R’ Akiva’s reply to Turnus Rufus regarding tzedakah and בנים אתם, in Bava Basra 10a.
6. The importance of an Amen in making a chazan's berachah legitimate is in Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 124:4.
7. Part of an alternative ending I considered for this derashah: The concept of turning others into tzaddikim is an unusual application of what Rav Chaim of Volozhin described as the purpose of our very existence. As Rav Chaim’s son, Rav Yitzchak, described his father’s counsel: וכה היה דברו אלי תמיד שזה כל האדם. לא לעצמו נברא רק להועיל לאחריני ככל אשר ימצא בכחו לעשות – “These were his constant words to me: This is the entire person. One is not created for himself, but to benefit others with the full extent of his powers.” Certainly, the normal way to fulfill Rav Chaim Volozhiner’s advice is to offer chesed, to give tzedakah, but there are a myriad ways in which we interlock, and in which we can be מועיל לאחריני, we can turn the people around us into tzaddikim.
The Dubna Magid tells of a thief who encountered a wagon driver, whacked the driver over the head and took off down the road with his horses. After a few days of pursuit the driver eventually catches up with the thief - who turns to him and says, “Well, it’s about time; I’ve been exercising your horses for three days! My fee is $500.”
We don’t really reward the thief’s unintended “service” – but we do reward unintended tzedakah; Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah said as much in commenting on the mitzvah of שכחה.
In שכחה, a harvester who forgets stalks of grain gets credit for accidental tzedakah. Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah took that further in a Sifri, saying (ה)מאבד סלע מתוך ידו ומצאה עני והלך ונתפרנס בה מעלה עליו הכתוב כאלו זכה – If I lose a coin and a pauper finds it and uses it, I get credit as though I had given tzedakah.
Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah’s central point is about the nature of tzedakah, but his observation also highlights another important issue: The role of the tzedakah recipient, without whom this act of tzedakah does not exist.
At the moment when our gentleman dropped his coin, he was a schlemiel. But then the עני picked up the coin – and now, instant philanthropist! Or to borrow from quantum physics, the owner of the coin is in an unresolved state when he drops the coin, until either that coin rolls into a sewer drain unnoticed and so he’s a schlemiel, or a pauper takes the coin and thereby resolves him into a baal tzedakah.
Bottom line: The עני/pauper completes the donor’s mitzvah. Indeed, some suggest that this is why we don’t recite a berachah upon the mitzvah of giving tzedakah – because there must also be a recipient, and we cannot thank HaShem for creating a needy person. Without a needy person, the mitzvah cannot happen; it’s a joint effort.
Viewing a mitzvah as a joint effort is part of a larger halachic and philosophical picture which portrays all Jews as interlocking puzzle pieces, individual spirits that are part of a greater soul, nanomachines whose cooperative contributions create collective success in the mission of fulfilling Torah. It’s the way we view community, and Jewish community in particular. We are not independent pieces; Rambam calls the person who performs mitzvos on his own a פורש מן הציבור. We interconnect, and we contribute to each other’s righteousness, knowingly and unknowingly, in order to bring the greater mission to fruition.
This interconnectedness mandates the Torah’s overarching לפני עור prohibition; ולפני עור לא תתן מכשול, I am not allowed to do anything which will cause others to stumble in sin. My responsibility is not only to my own righteousness, but also to burnish the righteousness of others around me until it shines.
And this interconnectedness mandates the concept of כל ישראל ערבין זה בזה, of mutual mitzvah responsibility. I can fulfill mitzvos on behalf of others, such as by reciting kiddush for them, and Rav Soloveitchik explained that this is because my mitzvah of kiddush is incomplete so long as someone else has yet to fulfill his mitzvah. We all interlock.
Within this greater interconnectedness, I am not only capable of turning others into tzaddikim, but Halachah demands that I turn others into tzaddikim. An עני doesn’t only have the option of picking up the coin and so turning a schlemiel into a philanthropist – he is actually obligated to do so.
This interconnectedness has daily practical applications:
• A Yom Tov meal that shared with others fulfills the Torah’s mandate of inviting others to join our celebration.
• A kohen serves as a kohen only if people come to him to bring a korban on their behalf.
• When we daven with a community, it’s תפילה בציבור only when people are participating. The Shulchan Aruch writes regarding the repetition of Shemoneh Esreih that people’s responses of Amen are what make the chazzan’s berachos valid.
• Or think about lashon hara; when I refuse to listen to the latest scandal du jour, I save the other person from a significant עבירה.
• Or look at talmud torah – When I listen to the rebbe, I convert him into a מגיד שיעור, enabling him to fulfill the great mitzvah of teaching Torah.
This is why we create kehillos, shuls, batei midrash and chavrusos, gemachs and chevros kadisha ר"ל, vaadim and so on – because we need others in order to make our mitzvos complete, and because we are obligated to do the same on their behalf. All of us, multiple times each day, have opportunities to play the role of the עני, helping others to go from schlemiels to tzaddikim by cooperating in their mitzvos.
I know Canadians don’t pay much attention to basketball, but in this mission we are like Scottie Pippen, who was admitted to the Basketball Hall of Fame last week.
Scottie Pippen made his career as second fiddle to Michael Jordan, winning six championships with him. Pippen was a great player in his own right, one of the greatest defensive players ever and a fantastic shooter, even named recently as one of the Top 50 basketball players of all time – but his claim to fame is as the man who made someone else shine.
For hockey fans, think of what Jari Kurri did for Wayne Gretzky.
Being Scottie Pippen or Jari Kurri is what Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah’s tzedakah recipient does for the accidental בעל צדקה, it’s what we do when we answer Amen or listen to a shiur or decline to hear לשון הרע - we assist others in their mitzvos, we help them shine, and so we make the greater, interconnected whole a success.
-
Notes:
1. The Dubna Magid's story, in its original form (which I have altered somewhat), appears in Mishlei Yaakov to Ki Tetze, on Bilam's attempt to gain credit for blessing the Jews. Bilam does not get credit, since he intended to harm us.
2. Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah's comment is in Sifri Ki Tetze 73; note that Rashi to Devarim 24:19 uses a slightly altered version. Also, I saw one writer who sought to read the Sifri's כאלו as though this was not wholly considered tzedakah, but I do not believe this read is correct.
4. On the issue of intent in tzedakah, note that we look at tzedakah not as Latin caritas, an act of charitable love for the needy, and not as Arabic zakat, an act of intentional sacrifice, but as tzedek, a natural transfer of HaShem’s wealth to those who deserve it. As Pirkei Avos says, תן לו משלו שאתה ושלך שלו, all that we distribute really belongs to HaShem. So I don’t need to give it lovingly, willingly, or even knowingly; tzedakah is tzedakah, regardless.
5. On the role of the pauper in enabling tzedakah, see also R’ Akiva’s reply to Turnus Rufus regarding tzedakah and בנים אתם, in Bava Basra 10a.
6. The importance of an Amen in making a chazan's berachah legitimate is in Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 124:4.
7. Part of an alternative ending I considered for this derashah: The concept of turning others into tzaddikim is an unusual application of what Rav Chaim of Volozhin described as the purpose of our very existence. As Rav Chaim’s son, Rav Yitzchak, described his father’s counsel: וכה היה דברו אלי תמיד שזה כל האדם. לא לעצמו נברא רק להועיל לאחריני ככל אשר ימצא בכחו לעשות – “These were his constant words to me: This is the entire person. One is not created for himself, but to benefit others with the full extent of his powers.” Certainly, the normal way to fulfill Rav Chaim Volozhiner’s advice is to offer chesed, to give tzedakah, but there are a myriad ways in which we interlock, and in which we can be מועיל לאחריני, we can turn the people around us into tzaddikim.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Daf: Nazir 23, a fascinating page
Yes, an entire post for this daf; there is a ton to see here, and we are just touching the tip of a very large iceberg!
23a
Nazir 23a-b is very interesting, for its discussion of the role of intention in both mitzvah and transgression. Some surprising concepts surface here, most prominently the idea of עבירה לשמה, a sin performed for the sake of Heaven. The concept itself is not surprising – it’s with us pretty much from childhood – but its validation in the gemara is not what one might have expected. The ‘system’ does not normally sanction its abrogation.
Rabbi Akiva cries here, regarding the extent to which a person is held liable for his intent. It’s interesting on two levels:
1. Rabbi Akiva is the one who usually laughs when the sages cry (end of Talmud Makkot), and even shuns tears upon his own martyring. Nonetheless, I find it consistent – Rabbi Akiva is always focussed on the Divine plan, and confidence in HaShem. Here, he cries because HaShem is so strict in judgment.
2. Various sages cry, in the gemara, when they reach specific pesukim or lessons of great import for our spiritual accounting. Think of Rebbe in Avodah Zarah 17 or 18, crying because a person can acquire his ‘olam’ in an instant יש קונה עולמו בשעה אחת.
Look at Tosafos על דבר, using the ראשי תיבות (acronym) approach.
I was troubled by the use of אכילה גסה here to connote simple over-eating – until I saw Tosafos “pesach”.
23b
The midrash is troubled, at the start of Parshat Balak, regarding the interplay between Midian and Moav in hiring Bilam. The midrash’s conclusion is that Midian and Moav teamed up. Here, though (top of the page), it appears that they are considered the same nation?
The reason presented here (ancestral behavior) for the prohibition of marrying an Amonite/Moabite is not the same as the reason given in the Torah itself (behavior of those nations when the Jews arrived to enter Israel)! Perhaps the idea is that the actions of the ancestors dictated the character of their descendants, a sort of ersatz מעשה אבות סימן לבנים concept. It fits the traditional concept of mamzerut, too – that the descendant is influenced by the traits of his parents.
Our gemara speaks positively about a person who learns Torah or performs mitzvos with ulterior motives. Tosafos here, and in four other places, points out that Berachos 17a strongly condemns a person who acts with ulterior motives! In all of those sites, Tosafos explains that there is a difference between acting positively for personal gain (approved), and acting positively in order to harm others (not approved).
Ruth is identified here as the descendant of kings. This fits a general talmudic pattern of associating outsiders who joined the family of Avraham, or who wanted to join, with royal heritage; we do this for Hagar, identifying her as the daughter of a Pharoah, and for Timna (see Rashi to Bereishis 36:12).
Note also Tosafos בת בנו on the chronology of Ruth’s connection to Eglon. We don’t assume that Ruth’s mother was exceptionally long-lived. (As opposed to Ruth’s descendants, between her and Dovid haMelech.)
23a
Nazir 23a-b is very interesting, for its discussion of the role of intention in both mitzvah and transgression. Some surprising concepts surface here, most prominently the idea of עבירה לשמה, a sin performed for the sake of Heaven. The concept itself is not surprising – it’s with us pretty much from childhood – but its validation in the gemara is not what one might have expected. The ‘system’ does not normally sanction its abrogation.
Rabbi Akiva cries here, regarding the extent to which a person is held liable for his intent. It’s interesting on two levels:
1. Rabbi Akiva is the one who usually laughs when the sages cry (end of Talmud Makkot), and even shuns tears upon his own martyring. Nonetheless, I find it consistent – Rabbi Akiva is always focussed on the Divine plan, and confidence in HaShem. Here, he cries because HaShem is so strict in judgment.
2. Various sages cry, in the gemara, when they reach specific pesukim or lessons of great import for our spiritual accounting. Think of Rebbe in Avodah Zarah 17 or 18, crying because a person can acquire his ‘olam’ in an instant יש קונה עולמו בשעה אחת.
Look at Tosafos על דבר, using the ראשי תיבות (acronym) approach.
I was troubled by the use of אכילה גסה here to connote simple over-eating – until I saw Tosafos “pesach”.
23b
The midrash is troubled, at the start of Parshat Balak, regarding the interplay between Midian and Moav in hiring Bilam. The midrash’s conclusion is that Midian and Moav teamed up. Here, though (top of the page), it appears that they are considered the same nation?
The reason presented here (ancestral behavior) for the prohibition of marrying an Amonite/Moabite is not the same as the reason given in the Torah itself (behavior of those nations when the Jews arrived to enter Israel)! Perhaps the idea is that the actions of the ancestors dictated the character of their descendants, a sort of ersatz מעשה אבות סימן לבנים concept. It fits the traditional concept of mamzerut, too – that the descendant is influenced by the traits of his parents.
Our gemara speaks positively about a person who learns Torah or performs mitzvos with ulterior motives. Tosafos here, and in four other places, points out that Berachos 17a strongly condemns a person who acts with ulterior motives! In all of those sites, Tosafos explains that there is a difference between acting positively for personal gain (approved), and acting positively in order to harm others (not approved).
Ruth is identified here as the descendant of kings. This fits a general talmudic pattern of associating outsiders who joined the family of Avraham, or who wanted to join, with royal heritage; we do this for Hagar, identifying her as the daughter of a Pharoah, and for Timna (see Rashi to Bereishis 36:12).
Note also Tosafos בת בנו on the chronology of Ruth’s connection to Eglon. We don’t assume that Ruth’s mother was exceptionally long-lived. (As opposed to Ruth’s descendants, between her and Dovid haMelech.)
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