The politics of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza

This is my summary of a shiur given by R' Yaakov Medan earlier this week in Jerusalem. The very last sentence is my own addition.

The well-known story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza (Gittin 55b-56a) goes as follows:

R. Johanan said: What is illustrative of the verse, Happy is the man that feareth alway, but he that hardeneth his heart shall fall into mischief? The destruction of Jerusalem came through a Kamza and a Bar Kamza; the destruction of Tur Malka came through a cock and a hen; the destruction of Bethar came through the shaft of a leather. The destruction of Jerusalem came through a Kamza and a Bar Kamza in this way. A certain man had a friend Kamza and an enemy Bar Kamza. He once made a party and said to his servant, Go and bring Kamza. The man went and brought Bar Kamza. When the man [who gave the party] found him there he said, See, you tell tales about me; what are you doing here? Get out. Said the other: Since I am here, let me stay, and I will pay you for whatever I eat and drink. He said, I won't. Then let me give you half the cost of the party. No, said the other. Then let me pay for the whole party. He still said, No, and he took him by the hand and put him out. Said the other, Since the Rabbis were sitting there and did not stop him, this shows that they agreed with him. I will go and inform against then, to the Government. He went and said to the Emperor, The Jews are rebelling against you. He said, How can I tell? He said to him: Send them an offering and see whether they will offer it [on the altar]. So he sent with him a fine calf. While on the way he made a blemish on its upper lip, or as some say on the white of its eye, in a place where we [Jews] count it a blemish but they do not. The Rabbis were inclined to offer it in order not to offend the Government. Said R. Zechariah b. Abkulas to them: People will say that blemished animals are offered on the altar. They then proposed to kill Bar Kamza so that he should not go and inform against them, but R. Zechariah b. Abkulas said to them, Is one who makes a blemish on consecrated animals to be put to death? R. Johanan thereupon remarked: Through the "anvatanut" of R. Zechariah b. Abkulas our House has been destroyed, our Temple burnt and we ourselves exiled from our land.

The beginning of the story (the meal) and end (the sacrifice) flow logically. But the segue between them is hard to understand. How is it possible that a random meal guest is able to show up at the king's door, and be taken seriously when he says the entire nation is rebelling?

R' Medan suggests a new approach to this story, beginning with a new interpretation of the word "anvatanut", usually translated as something like "humility".

Rashi on Brachot 9a explains that the "vatikin" who prayed early each morning were:

People with "anava", who loved mitzvot

If the two halves of Rashi's statement are related, than "anava" would seem to mean punctuality or enthusiasm for doing mitzvot in the best possible manner, not humility. [My addition: see Demai 6:7 where "tzanua" has the connotation of "machmir" - apparently, "frummies" who were known back then for cultivating modest character traits would also follow "machmir" rulings.]

We see a similar idea in the Tosefta (Shabbat 16:7) which discusses how to dispose of food waste after a Shabbat meal:

Beit Hillel says: One may pick up the bones and peels from the table. Beit Shammai says: One must remove the entire plate/tray and shake off its [muktzah] contents. Zecharia ben Avkilus did not practice like Beit Shammai or like Beit Hillel, but rather would take [an item of food to eat] and throw [its waste] behind the couch [so as not to have to remove muktzah items by any method later on]. R' Yosa said: R' Zecharia ben Avkilus' "anvatanut" is what burnt the Temple.

Here, R' Zecharia ben Avkilus and his "anvatanut" are characterized as extreme, unwarranted strictness with halacha.

Let us now look at Midrash Eicha Rabbati (on verse 4:2), which tells the Kamtza story again, and suggests another flaw of R' Zecharia ben Avkilus.

Once a man in Jerusalem made a meal. He said to his messenger: Bring me Kamtza my friend. He went and brought Kamtza his enemy. He entered and sat among the guests. [The host] entered and found him between the guests. He said to him "You are my enemy and you sit in my house, why? Get out of my house!" ... He took [Kamtza the enemy] in his hand and expelled him. R' Zecharia ben Avkulus was there and was capable of protesting but did not protest. He went out and thought "Since the aged rabbis were sitting there and did not object, they agreed with it." ... this is why it is said that the Temple was destroyed over Kamtza and Bar Kamtza. R' Yosef [=R' Yosa in the Tosefta] said: R' Zecharia ben Avkilus' "anvatanut" is what burnt the Temple.

This is basically the same story, told slightly differently. There is one addition of interest to us: the same R' Zecharia who refused to offer the sacrifice was responsible for precipitating the crisis by not protesting at the meal! But how can "anvatanut" refer both to this insensitivity and to the later halachic strictness?

Before answering this, let us look at a different paragraph in the same section of midrash.

Another interpretation: "The precious sons of Zion." ... What was their preciousness? One of them would not enter a meal unless he knew who was dining with him, who poured the wine, and who served the food."

This is a strange idea, but we find the same idea in the gemara (Sanhedrin 23a):

"Thus did those of clean mind in Jerusalem do: they would not sign a legal document unless they knew who was signing with them, they would not sit in judgment unless they knew who was sitting with them, and they would not go into a meal unless they knew who was eating with them."

It appears, from these sources, that was customary that guests would demand to know the entire guest list before coming! This shines an entirely different light on the Kamtza/Bar Kamtza story. People were very careful to never invite anyone who was not on an approved list. If a Bar Kamtza showed up uninvited, it's not at all surprising that he would be kicked out!

Why would people insist on knowing the name of every single person who attended a meal? Would you refuse to attend, say, a wedding, without first consulting the entire list of guests and waiters to see that every one of them was on your pre-approved list?

To answer this, let us remember that we are talking about the period immediately preceding the rebellion and destruction. Clearly, the political intrigues that would lead to the rebellion were already present. There were many spies around, and much suspicion and persecution. When wine goes in secrets come out, and for plotters, knowing every guest on the invite list was necessary for security. Also, it is quite reasonable to think that Bar Kamtza was just the sort of person who would be unwelcome in a feast of plotting rebels. Someone willing to betray his nation to the Romans after a personal insult at a meal was someone who probably not too loyal to begin with! As R' Yochanan said at the beginning of the story, "Happy is he who always fears" indeed!

The midrash fingers R' Zechariah as the rabbi most responsible for the expulsion of Bar Kamtza. If Bar Kamtza was a non-nationalist (willing to go straight to the Romans to avenge his insult) and his haters were nationalists, then perhaps R' Zechariah himself was a prominent nationalist. Let us now see what non-rabbinic sources may have to say about R' Zechariah.

Josephus (Wars of the Jews 4:4:1) writes the following about the zealots:

These leaders were Eleazar, the son of Simon, who seemed the most plausible man of them all, both in considering what was fit to be done, and in the execution of what he had determined upon, and Zacharias, the son of Amphikulus...

This name is very similar to R' Zecharia ben Avkulus, and some historians have asserted that they are the same person.

If so, R' Zecharia was not simply a modest, fearful man concerned primarily about the details of halacha. He was a polarizing zealot leader! No wonder he did not object to kicking out the unintended guest, who might have been a spy against the zealots. And no wonder he was not willing to compromise anything whatsover in the Temple service, even under extreme pressure.

Now, let us look about what Josephus says about how the revolt began (Wars 2:17:2).

At the same time Eleazar, the son of Ananias the high priest, a very bold youth, who was at that time governor of the temple, persuaded those that officiated in the Divine service to receive no gift or sacrifice for any foreigner. And this was the true beginning of our war with the Romans; for they rejected the sacrifice of Caesar on this account; and when many of the high priests and principal men besought them not to omit the sacrifice, which it was customary for them to offer for their princes, they would not be prevailed upon.

This account is very similar to that in the Kamtza story! In both, the Romans send an animal to the Temple to be sacrificed. In both, the Jewish leaders refuse to sacrifice it after extended arguments. In both, the Romans are provoked by this refusal and war ensues.

Of course, there are some differences. History writing in the ancient world was different from today. Nobody was looking over the historian's shoulder to see that everything was properly sourced and accurate. Rather, history was a form of what might be called "history art" where the details could be filled in as necessary. One famous example of this is the speech Josephus records as being given on Masada before the collective suicide. How could Josephus possibly know the text of this speech? If someone could bring Josephus back to life and ask him this, he would likely say - with justice - "I grew up with Elazar, I knew him well enough to know that this is what he would have said in that situation." Josephus did not know the exact words, but he was confident in his guess at the message. Similarly, Josephus filled in the gaps in the Jerusalem story as best he could. The essential story is the same as in the gemara (which testifies to the basic accuracy of both). But being in the Roman camp outside Jerusalem, and not knowing the details about Bar Kamtza, Josephus filled in other details about how the sacrifice came to be rejected.

In the gemara, the rabbis who R' Zechariah debated sound reasonable, while Bar Kamtza sounds like a spiteful traitor. But in Josephus' telling, the Jews who incited the sacrifice simply wanted to get rid of the zealots, not to destroy the Temple and the whole nation! The concrete facts are almost the same as in the gemara. But the tone and moral judgments are completely different. This reminds us of current events, where Haaretz and a right-wing paper might report almost the same events, but the presentation and conclusions to be drawn are near opposites.

The Torah tells us "You shall not bear tales ('rechil') among your people, you shall not stand by the blood of your fellow." (Vayikra 19:16) The two halves of this verse are likely connected. The tales in question may not be simple gossip about who got a bad haircut or woke up late for minyan, but the kind of betrayal to hostile authorities that can result in death [what was later known as "mesirah"]. And the word "rechil" may be linguistically related to "meragel", meaning to spy. Some sources say that "rechilut" or "lashon hara" was responsible for the destruction of the Temple (Yirmiyahu 9:3, Brachot 32b). If so, the kind of tale-bearing that is meant is the kind where people are being betrayed to the authorities.

We have now attributed clear political motivations to each side in the Kamtza story. Thus, it appears that the story is not "simply" an anecdote of baseless hatred. But while it is legitimate to have differences of political opinion, it is not legitimate to have so much mutual back-stabbing that members of your nation cannot even eat at a meal together. That degree of hatred leads to destruction and exile. Kamtza (who was welcome at the meal) and Bar Kamtza (who was unwelcome) represent the two political camps which showed so much hatred towards each other, and therefore the story is named after both of them.

David's messy psak

The gemara (Brachot 4a) describes King David's righteousness with this example:

כך אמר דוד לפני הקב"ה: רבונו של עולם, לא חסיד אני, שכל מלכי מזרח ומערב יושבים אגודות אגודות בכבודם, ואני ידי מלוכלכות בדם ובשפיר ובשליא כדי לטהר אשה לבעלה

I was thinking about that line, and I came to the conclusion that it was probably inspired by the interaction between David and Michal as he rejects her (Shmuel Bet 6:21-22):

ויאמר דוד אל מיכל: לפני יקוק אשר בחר בי מאביך ומכל ביתו, לצות אתי נגיד על עם יקוק על ישראל, ושחקתי לפני יקוק. ונקלתי עוד מזאת, והייתי שפל בעיני, ועם האמהות אשר אמרת, עמם אכבדה

Exactly what interaction between David and the "amhot" is he talking about that would be a cause for "kavod"? You might say in pshat that he's just going to associate with them somehow (and perhaps marry them, to the exclusion of Michal who he will no longer sleep with).

But I think the midrash wants to say something more specific. He will do some disgusting task ("hayiti shafal be'einai"), involving women ("im ha'amhot"), which nevertheless will be a reason for honor. Dealing with female bodily excretions in order to reunite husband and wife is a good example of such a task. In contrast to the other kings, whose honor consists of pompous social interactions ("yoshvim agudot agudot bichvodam"), David's honor would consist of this.

UPDATE: In addition to the details above, it was suggested to me (by RB) that the midrash may use examining blood as its example of a disgusting honorable act, specifically due to to David's past. In Shmuel Bet 16:7-12, Shimi ben Gera calls David a "man of blood" among other curses. David does not retaliate or even dispute this curse, and in fact says that God must have instructed Shimi to utter this curse. However, David wishes that God will notice his forbearance, and replace the curse with a blessing. This wish is phrased generically, but the midrash could understand it as David wishing that his martial bloodiness be replaced with some kind of peaceful and helpful bloodiness.

Insects in Bamidbar

He sent messengers to Bilam son of Beor, to Petor which is on the river, where his people lives, to say to him: "Behold, this people which left Egypt has covered the eye of the earth, and it is now camped opposite me." (Bamidbar 22:5)

What is the meaning of the "eye of the earth" in this verse? Shemot 10:4-5 uses the phrase in a similar way:

"For if you [Pharaoh] refuse to let my people go, I shall bring tomorrow locusts in your borders. They will cover the eye of the earth, and it will be impossible to see the earth..."

In both places, Onkelus translates the phrase as "the eye of the sun of the earth", meaning the bright disc formed by the sun. In Shemot, the meaning of this is clear: the swarm of locusts will be so thick that it will cover the sun and there will be darkness. (Or perhaps, the locusts will both cover the sun and form a continuous layer on the surface of the ground.)

In Bamidbar, it seems that Israel too is being compared to a swarm of locusts, which devours the lands whose path it crosses, and looks ready to devour Balak's land and people too.

Interestingly, this is not the first place in Bamidbar where Jews are compared to locusts. When the spies returned from their trip, they reported: "There we saw the Nefilim sons of Anak (from the Nefilim), and we were in our eyes like locusts, and so were we in their eyes."

The spies saw themselves as small insects, incapable of conquering the mighty inhabitants of Canaan. But while the spies saw the locust as a weak animal, Balak saw the locust as an unstoppable and overpowering force! How could the same animal be used as a metaphor for completely opposite concepts?

The difference, of course, is that the spies referred to individual locusts, while Balak referred to an entire swarm. Indeed, while an individual locust is capable of little damage, a swarm of them is extremely formidable. Similarly, a single Israelite might be weaker than a single Anakite, but when the Israelites were united nobody could stop them from conquering the land.

How do we know that the spies should have realized this point, and didn't? After the spies spread their bad report and God decreed forty years of desert wandering upon them, the people rebelled and tried to invade Canaan immediately. When Moshe describes the results of this invasion in Devarim, he makes reference to a different kind of insect:

"The Amorite who lived on that mountain went out against you, and chased you as do the bees, and struck you down in Se'ir, as far as Hormah." (1:44)

Bees, like locusts, are individually weak but together form a fearsome swarm. Just like the Israelites' enemies knew the power that comes from unity, so should the Israelites have known.

(Based on a dvar torah from R' Shlomo Glicksberg)

Mutual love

The second blessing before kriyat Shema focuses on Torah study and observance. In the morning, we mention the Patriarchs to whom God "taught the laws of life", and then we ask that God "lead our hearts to understand, perceive, listen, learn, teach, guard, perform, and uphold all the words of this Torah". In the evening, we express our desire to "rejoice in the words of Your Torah and Your commandments forever, for they are our life and the length of our days, and we shall study them day and night." Virtually the entire blessing is on this topic, in both the morning and the evening.

The topic is a logical one. The Shema is one of the main sources for the mitzvah of Torah study; its reading is itself a performance of Torah study; and it is one of the most memorable passages on the topics of mitzvah observance and reward and punishment. Some sources suggest that this blessing functions as the usual blessing said before performance of a mitzvah (and therefore one should not speak between them and the Shema) - in which case they certainly must be on the same topic as the Shema.

But there is one main deviation from this topic - at the beginning and end of each blessing. There, rather than Torah study, the topic is love. The blessing starts by mentioning the "great love" or "eternal love" God has shown us, and ends by blessing God who "chooses Israel in love", or "loves His people Israel". Why mention love here?

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I think the answer lies in the second line of the Shema. "You shall love Hashem your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might." The first line of the Shema is a basic declaration of loyalty to God. Once that is accomplished, we list the things we must do for God - and the first of those to love.

The remaining things, of course, are all about Torah study - keeping the Torah in mind, reciting it, teaching it, speaking of it, placing reminders of it on our body and houses. The overall structure closely echoes the blessing recited before the Shema - there, too, the introduction is about love, and the body of the paragraph is about Torah study.

Of course, rather than the Shema echoing the blessing, it is the blessing which echoes the Shema, since the blessing was composed to accompany the Shema rather than vice versa.

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There is one difference though. The blessing talks Torah study plus about God's love for Israel. The Shema talks about Torah study plus Israel's love for God. Each contains love, but the direction of the love is reversed.

Here is one possible explanation of this difference. Tanach repeatedly likens the relationship between God and Israel to that between a husband and wife. Just as a successful marriage must involve mutual expression of love and commitment from both sides, so must God's relationship/covenant with the Jewish people. God showed us love in giving us the Torah; we show love by keeping it. In the Shema (which is God's words) He provides us with commandments through which we can merit reward and closeness to God; in the blessing (which is our words) we thank God for these commandments and express our wish that nothing ever prevent us from keeping them. Each party in the relationship mentions the love the other party shows them, and through this, the relationship between them is mutually strengthened.

Renamed Jerusalem streets

Here is an incomplete list of streets in Jerusalem that have been renamed at some point (mostly in 1948), followed by their original names.

I was planning on adding this to Wikipedia, but I don't see a good place for it.

Keren Hayesod - King George [1]
King David - Julian's Way [1]
King Solomon - St. Louis Way [1]
Shlomtzion - Princess Mary Ave [1]
Straus - Chancellor [1]
Agron - Mamilla Road [1]
Shivtei Yisrael - St Paul's Road [1]
Malchei Yisrael - Geula Road [2]
Herzog - Gaza Road [2]
Usishkin - Yehudah Halevi [3]
KK"L - Shmuel Hanagid [3]

[1] http://www.zionism-israel.com/ezine/Jerusalem_ben_yehuda_bombing.htm
[2] Collins & LaPierre, O Jerusalem, 1972
[3] http://www.haaretz.co.il/hasite/spages/907333.html

You have seen

Thus you shall say to the house of Jacob and tell the children of Israel: "You have seen what I did to Egypt, and how I lifted you up on wings of eagles, and brought you to Me." (19:4)

Thus you shall say to the children of Israel: "You have seen that I have spoken with you from heaven." (20:18)

The phrase "You have seen" used to begin a speech is quite rare in Tanach. Besides these two verses, it is used once each by Moshe and Yehoshua - each time to introduce a covenant with God made before their deaths - and once by Yirmiyahu. So its appearance twice in succession is somewhat striking.

The first instance (19:4) refers to the exodus from Egypt, and comes to introduce the revelation at Sinai.

The second instance (20:18) refers to the revelation at Sinai, and comes to introduce the commandments in parshat Mishpatim (and the last few verses of Yitro).

Seeing as two of the other three uses of this phrase introduce the making of covenants, it is not surprising that the same is true here. The revelation at Sinai is called a covenant (Devarim 5:2), and the commandments in Mishpatim are called "the book of the covenant" (Shemot 24:7).

Moreover, we learn that the events in question are not independent of each other, but rather form a linear progression. The exodus from Egypt created a sort of relationship between God and Israel. But it then had to be made explicit by the acceptance of the Ten Commandments. Even that was not enough, and the covenant had to be more fully fleshed out, with a long list of the laws we will keep, and the rewards we will get for it.

That's all I have to say about the similarity between these two phrases. Now, a few words on the difference between them, as interpreted by the midrash.

There is one noticeable difference: the audience. The first phrase is spoken to both "the house of Jacob" and "the children of Israel". The second is only spoken to the latter.

On a pshat level you might say that "the house of Jacob" and "the children of Israel" mean the same thing, and the first verse uses both for some stylistic reason, perhaps to provide extra formality. But the midrash cannot accept such a "fuzzy" answer. In midrash, every word of the verse should add something meaningful and definite.

So therefore, the midrash (quoted by Rashi) says that "the house of Jacob" means the women, and "the children of Israel" means the men. I had always thought this identification was for linguistic reasons: "bnei yisrael" can mean either "children" of Israel or simply "sons" of Israel, while "the house" is a place where women were likely to be found.

But now, we can add a structural reason for this identification. (Alas, you will see, it is no more politically correct than the linguistic one.) It stands to reason that women were equal participants in accepting the Ten Commandments and the basic commitment to Jewish faith. But since they are not commanded to learn Torah to the same extent as men, perhaps the numerous halachic details of parshat Mishpatim are not directly relevant to them. Therefore, the midrash may be thinking, women are mentioned as "the house of Jacob" in the introduction to the Ten Commandments, but not in the introduction to Mishpatim.

On choosing your wife

Yaakov and Moshe married country girls (shepherdesses). They ended up wandering around constantly for the rest of their lives.

Yitzchak married a city girl (Haran). He ended up living in one place for the rest of his life (the Negev).

In short: choose your wife carefully.

Thoughts on Shemot

[Moshe] went out the second day, and, behold, two Hebrew men were fighting together; and he said to the evil one/agressor: "Why are you hitting your fellow?" He said: "Who made you a ruler and a judge over us? Do you intend to kill me, like you killed the Egyptian?" (2:13-14)

According to the midrash quoted in Rashi, these two men were Datan and Aviram, later known to us from their rebellion in Sefer Bamidbar.

At first, this identification seems extremely arbitrary. Obviously the midrash likes to say that anonymous characters were actually individuals named elsewhere (the refugee who reported to Avraham was Og Melech Habashan; the "man" directing Yosef to Dotan was the angel Gavriel). But just because one pair of people appears here and another in Bamidbar, is that really enough to equate the pairs?

In fact, there is a quite interesting parallel between this story and what Datan and Aviram do later. Let's list the ways in which this episode parallels later events.

• One of the men here is called "evil", and the other may be too. Datan and Aviram were also an evil pair. (OK, this one is trivial.)
• The men question whether Moshe is their ruler and judge. Indeed, Moshe later became the ruler and judge of the Jewish people, and Datan and Aviram (among others) questioned this authority.
• The man accuses Moshe of wanting to kill him, just as he killed the Egyptian. This parallels the plagues (in which Moshe did indirectly kill many Egyptians), as well as the complaint of Datan and Aviram (and others) that Moshe intended to kill the Jewish people in the desert.
• Somebody tattled about Moshe's killing of the Egyptian, forcing Moshe to flee to Midian. This reminds me of the rebels against Moshe in the desert, who frequently employed slander in their cause. The most obvious example is the spies' description of the land. Also, Datan and Aviram accuse Moshe of "rul[ing] over" the people (Bamidbar 16:13). What exactly this implies is unclear, but Moshe's protest in the next verse ("I have not taken even one of their donkeys, nor have I done wrong to any of them") might mean that Datan/Aviram falsely accused him abusing power, by confiscating property from the people.

Out of these four parallels, the first one is pretty obvious. I think everyone gets it immediately, but also thinks it is insufficient basis for the midrash.

The remaining three are less obvious. But each one is an elegant comparison in its own way. Put them all together, and a clear thematic resonance is apparent. We'll never know if the two men were in fact Datan and Aviram. But we do know that this episode was similar to Datan and Aviram's story in many ways.

[See also Nedarim 64b which suggests a linguistic connection between "nitzim" (here) and "nitzavim" (Bamidbar 16:27). But I find it hard to believe this is the only source of the midrash.]

After these events

It came to pass after these events, that God tested Avraham, and said to him "Avraham", and he said "Here I am". (Breishit 22:1)

According to my hopefully complete search, the phrase "after these events" (אחר הדברים האלה or a variant) appears twelve times in Tanach (Breishit 15:1, 22:1, 22:20, 39:7, 40:1, 48:1, Yehoshua 24:29, Melachim Alef 13:33, 17:17, 21:1, Esther 3:1, Ezra 7:1). In general, its usage is pretty clear. It introduces an event that is not an obvious or immediate consequence of the previous event, but the two events fit together as part of the overall story arc. For example, after Avraham defeated the four great kings via a surprise ambush, God appeared to him to promise protection (15:1). And after Yosef became the leading slave in Potifar's household, Potifar's wife developed an attraction for him and propositioned him (39:7).

As I see it, there is only one case which seems to violate this pattern, and that is the first verse of the Akedah passage. Exactly which events before the Akedah is the verse referring to - events which should be somewhat distant in time, and nevertheless thematically connected?

Let's look at several of the stories that precede the Akedah, numbered by chapter, and see if they can explain this role. Our criteria should be that the story is close to the Akedah ("these events" would seem to refer to the immediately preceding events), and that the the Akedah has a logical connection to it.

18-19: Angels visit Avraham; then proceed to Sedom, rescue Lot, and destroy the cities.
20: Avimelech takes and returns Sarah
21a: Hagar and Yishmael are expelled
21b: Avraham and Avimelech make a treaty
22: Akedah

Chapter 21, story b

Rashbam discusses the phrase "after these events" here, taking the same basic approach that I do, and says that the event in question is 21b. Since Avraham had been promised the entire land of Israel, he should not have made a treaty that would effectively cede part of it to Avimelech's descendants. This was a sin, and the pain Avraham must have felt while preparing to sacrifice Yitzchak was the resulting punishment.

This is quite a good answer. It involves the immediately preceding event to the Akedah - a great advantage. It also explains well the delicate conditions in which the phrase "after these events" can be used - the events must be connected enough that they are linked, but not connected enough (temporally or naturally) that they are one story. But this answer is not perfect.

For one thing, it is not absolutely clear that the treaty was a sin. Avraham's inheritance was generations away (after a necessary exile). Who knew if Avimelech's descendants would still be around then, and even if they were, perhaps they could convert or otherwise integrate into the Jewish people.

For another thing, it's not at all clear that the Akedah was a punishment. Avraham's immediate suffering in the Akedah ended with a promise of great reward, a promise that presumably outweighed the suffering. If the Akedah as a whole was good for Avraham, how could it be a punishment? And why would he only receive the chance to merit the promise after sinning? Perhaps if the promise were simply a restoration of previous promises which had been nullified through Avraham's sin, but if so why does it go beyond them to swear (for the first time) that the promise would come true? And Avraham only suffered in the Akedah because he was willing to sacrifice his son - it seems awkward that if he rejected the command he wouldn't have suffered at all.

Also, if the Akedah were a punishment for 21b in particular, you might the Akedah to allude to 21b. But it contains no reference to the land, either in its command or in the eventual reward. The latter is striking especially because many other Patriarchal blessings do mention the land. This blessing promises Avraham numerous offspring (logical, since he showed his willingness to sacrifice his offspring), and adds that "all the nations of the earth shall be blessed through your offspring" - which if anything could be in the same spirit as the treaty with Avimelech.

These questions are not insoluble, but they do provide motivation to search for other possible answers.

Chapters 18,19,20

If I remember correctly, some sources (I don't remember which) say the Akedah is a punishment for chapter 20. The events in Avraham's life can be divided into the clearly moral and God-fearing, and the questionably so. In the latter category, chapter 20 is perhaps the most questionable. Avraham described Sarah as his sister, leading Avimelech to take or abduct her, even though he already knew (from Egypt) that this description could lead to tragedy. Avraham says he did this because "I said there was no fear of God in this place" (20:11), but this possibility is contradicted when God appears to Avimelech and "the people feared greatly" (20:8). There could certainly be a sin here. Whether it is a greater sin than 21b, or more thematically related to the Akedah, is up for debate. But textually, chapter 20 is much further from the Akedah than 21b, which makes it less likely, all things being equal. And if you don't think the Akedah is a punishment, you'd have problems with this explanation too.

I think Chapters 18 and 19, and likely any earlier chapter, can be excluded right off the bat. Textually they are very far from the Akedah, and there is no clear thematic connection - not even any obvious sins by Avraham whose punishment might not be immediate.

Chapter 21, story a - Rashi

First of all: While this story does not immediately precede the Akedah, there is a rather good basis for connecting it anyway. This is because story 21b opens with "And it was, AT THAT TIME" - indicating that 21a and 21b are roughly simultaneous, despite their unrelated subjects. This is further strengthened by the general way Breishit tells of Avraham's life, in which the subjects of stories tend to alternate - quite elegantly in my opinion - for example the two Avimelech stories which are separated by 21a. Similarly, the Akedah comes two stories after 21a.

Now to Rashi's opinion. Rashi, based on Chazal, identifies 21a as the "events" to which the Akedah is linked. He suggests two possible narratives for how this occured:

1) At Yitzchak's weaning party, Avraham ate and drank, but is not recorded as having offered to sacrifices to God (as sometimes happens in other festive meals in Tanach, like Shemot 18:12). The "accuser" (Satan) noted this apparent lacking, to which God responded that Avraham would even sacrifice Yitzchak, subject of the party, if asked.

2) Yishmael boasted that he was circumcised at age 13 - more painful than Yitzchak's circumcision as a baby. To which Yitzchak responded he would even sacrifice his entire body, if asked.

In each case, God/Yitzchak then had the chance to prove their statement, through the Akedah.

This avoids the possible difficulties in saying the Akedah was a punishment. Of course, it opens up new questions as to what the purpose of the Akedah was - but the philosophical issues involved are too broad for this post. In any case, Rashi's approach works fine as midrash - inventing events that are not in the text in order to enbody broader philosophical considerations. But because those events are not in the text, it suffers on the level of pshat.

Chapter 21 - my ideas

I was recently thinking about what "after these events" could refer to, and I came up with two more ideas, one from 21a and one from 21b. Whether they are more or less convincing than the above suggestions, readers can judge for themselves.

In 21a, Sarah insists on expelling Hagar and Yishmael. Avraham is unhappy at this, but God tells him to do so, and he obeys.

The Akedah opens with the command to sacrifice "your son, your only son". This description is much more true after Yishmael has been banished from Avraham's life - one would expect never to return. The Akedah happens after Yitzchak has effectively become the only son. Drawing a connection to that event emphasizes the difficulty of the Akedah. Not only is it more emotionally difficult to lose your "only" son, but a major philosophical challenge of the Akedah is highlighted: how can the "only" son be killed before begetting the great multitude that God promised through him?

In 21b, we see a different angle.

The two Avraham/Avimelech stories have similarities - for example, in each Avimelech is morally blameless despite having taken Avraham's wife or well. But the difference are more striking. When Avraham first met Avimelech, he was an insecure nomad who roamed from place to place, each time lying about Sarah to preserve his own life. Now, Avraham lives in one place for many years (21:34), and is so successful enough that Avimelech says "God is with you in everything you do" (21:22). Then, Avraham was a guest of Avimelech; now Avimelech travels to ask favors from Avraham. Then, Avimelech received prophecy and demonstrated fear of God; now God is with Avraham. Avraham has spent much of his life wandering and worrying. From now on, we will see, he lives in stability and material comfort. And after 21a, he finally has a son through Sarah. In 21b, it appears as if Avraham's difficulties in life are over, and God's hashgacha pratit over him can be taken for granted.

Perhaps it is appropriate that the Akedah command comes at this moment. The incongruity of the command - morally and emotionally - is highlighted by the circumstances Avraham reaches in 21b, which otherwise seem to be "happily ever after". If Avraham were suffering then we could see the Akedah as yet one more inexplicable example of "hester panim". Only when everything else seems to make sense can we be shocked by the one command that cannot be understood.

Greatness and the Evil Inclination

Abayei heard a certain man say to a certain woman: "Let us go on our way". [Abayei] said: I will go and prevent them from committing a sin [together]. He went after them three parasangs in the field [a long distance, to an isolated place]. When they parted from each other, he heard them saying "Our company is pleasant but the way is long." Abayei said: "If it were me, I could not have restrained myself." He went and leaned in anguish against a doorpost, until a certain elder came and taught: "The greater the man, the greater the Evil Inclination" (כל הגדול מחבירו יצרו גדול הימנו). (Sukkah 52a)

It is surprising to hear that a great Torah scholar like Abayei is more, not less, likely to commit a severe sexual sin than the man he followed. Isn't Torah study, and Torah commitment in general, supposed to refine your character? Doesn't the same page of gemara (52b) say that if you encounter the Evil Inclination, you should "drag it to the beit midrash" in order to overcome it?

Therefore, I wonder if the "greatness" which is said to augment your Evil Inclination is social rather than spiritual.

Spiritual leaders as diverse as King David, Martin Luther King, and Shlomo Carlebach have been known to commit serious sexual crimes. It is hard to see this a function of their spiritual inclinations, but easy to see it as a function of their being respected leaders. As talented charismatic high-status men, such leaders can easily meet, attract, and seduce many women. As holders of communal authority, they can arrange for their affairs to be discrete, and silence those who would publicize or punish their crimes later on. If an accusation is ever made against them, their word will be trusted over that of their accusers. We should hope that such leaders have fewer affairs than similar secular leaders (JFK and Clinton come to mind), but not be surprised if they have more affairs than the average religious man.

Abayei, too, was a respected leader. He was more capable of getting away with sexual crimes than was the average man. This would make his challenge harder than theirs, even if in other respects his character was as good as theirs or better.

Israel and Israeliness

וַיֹּאמֶר ה' אֶל-מֹשֶׁה: עֲלֵה אֶל הַר הָעֲבָרִים הַזֶּה, וּרְאֵה אֶת הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר נָתַתִּי לִבְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל. וְרָאִיתָה אֹתָהּ, וְנֶאֱסַפְתָּ אֶל עַמֶּיךָ גַּם אָתָּה, כַּאֲשֶׁר נֶאֱסַף אַהֲרֹן אָחִיךָ. כַּאֲשֶׁר מְרִיתֶם פִּי בְּמִדְבַּר צִן, בִּמְרִיבַת הָעֵדָה, לְהַקְדִּישֵׁנִי בַמַּיִם לְעֵינֵיהֶם: הֵם מֵי מְרִיבַת קָדֵשׁ מִדְבַּר צִן.
וַיְדַבֵּר מֹשֶׁה אֶל ה' לֵאמֹר: יִפְקֹד ה' אֱלֹהֵי הָרוּחֹת לְכָל בָּשָׂר, אִישׁ עַל הָעֵדָה. אֲשֶׁר יֵצֵא לִפְנֵיהֶם, וַאֲשֶׁר יָבֹא לִפְנֵיהֶם, וַאֲשֶׁר יוֹצִיאֵם, וַאֲשֶׁר יְבִיאֵם; וְלֹא תִהְיֶה עֲדַת ה', כַּצֹּאן אֲשֶׁר אֵין לָהֶם רֹעֶה.
(במדבר כז יב-יז)

The phrase "vaydaber hashem el moshe lemor" is common throughout the Torah. Here, I believe, is the only time we have the reverse phrasing: "vaydaber moshe el hashem lemor". This is noteworthy because "vaydaber" is generally understood to mean a harsh statement or a command (see for example Shemot 6:2 and Bamidbar 32:25-27). It makes sense for God to command human beings. But since when do human beings command God?

Let us explain this in terms of the larger context. Moshe's behavior is a perfect example of what we would now call Israeli chutzpah. He makes harsh demands of his superior - with the understanding that his proposals are for the good of the superior rather than himself, and that his honesty and directness indicate respect for a superior who is capable of accepting criticism.

As we see, Moshe was not permitted to enter the land of Israel. But perhaps, as a consolation prize, he was allowed to become an Israeli. :)

Rahav and Pesach

The following is so obvious that someone must have written it before, but a very cursory search did not find anything, so I decided to write it up myself too.

The haftarah for parshat Shelach tells of a successful spying mission - when two spies sent by Yehoshua infiltrated the city of Yericho, visited a woman named Rahav, and returned with the report that the conquest was inevitable.

In return for Rahav's help, she and her family were saved from the city's ensuing destruction. The circumstances of their protection are interesting:

• Rahav was to be saved, along with whatever family members were in her house. (2:18)
  
• If any of them left the house, they would be killed. (2:19)
  
• Rahav was to put a red thread on her window to signal that the inhabitants should be protected. (2:18)
  
• When the spies left Rahav, to avoid their pursuers, she advised them to head for the mountain and stay there for three days. (2:16)

These circumstances are extremely reminiscent of an earlier event - the Israelites' protection from the 10th plague in Egypt:

• The Israelites slaughtered the Pesach sacrifice - one per family. (Shemot 12:3)
  
• They were not to leave the house until the plague was over (12:22)
  
• They were to smear the (red) blood on the doorposts of their house to indicate they should be protected.
  
• The plague was punishment for Pharaoh's refusal to allow a three-day journey perform a sacrifice at "God's Mountain" (3:12)

Evidently, Rahav's procedure is supposed to suggest the Pesach sacrifice. In general, this sacrifice is a symbol of the national covenant as members of God's people (see i.e. Bamidbar 9:7, and the connection between Pesach and circumcision). With Rahav having performed a procedure so similar to korban pesach, it is no surprise Chazal say she converted to Judaism (and in fact married Yehoshua).

The place of brachot

In the Mishna, Masechet Brachot is placed in Zeraim. But in the Shulchan Aruch, it is grouped with Shabbat and the holidays in Orach Chaim.

This reflects a different perception as to the place of brachot in our life. Grouping brachot with the holidays indicates that saying a bracha is a discrete observance which must be performed on certain occasions. Periodically you must keep shabbat, but you also know that the rest of the week cannot be shabbat.

Meanwhile, grouping brachot with zeraim indicates that saying a bracha is part of our normal life. It is not that you interrupt your farming in order to perform a religious observance (as with shabbat), but that saying the bracha is part of the farming, and gives the farming a religious character.

As part of the inexorable shift of religious practices from "natural/moral" to "ritual" over time (as circumstances change and the original rationale is left behind), brachot have changed from a natural part of our self-expression (in the Mishna) to a technical procedure that must be executed on specific occasions (in the Tur and Shulchan Aruch).

May that change someday, somehow reverse itself.

(Source for the good parts of this)

Ach

"You shall celebrate on your holiday - you, your son, your daughter, your male and female slave, the Levite, the stranger, the orphan, and the widow that are within your gates. Seven days you shall have a holiday to Hashem your God in the place Hashem shall chose, Hashem your God having blessed you in all your produce and all your handiwork, and you shall be 'ach sameach' ". (Devarim 16:14-15)

The beginning and end of the above excerpt, which I have put in bold, form a popular song now sung on holidays. Of course, it is ironic what the song has done to the middle of the excerpt. The Torah made a point of INCLUDING the poor and marginalized members of society in our celebration, but the song jumps over those words, as if to EXCLUDE them! There is always the excuse that long lists of names have no rhythm and are hard to fit to a tune. Granted, but it is still quite striking how the point of the verse has been missed.

Anyway, let us switch from social to philological commentary. The verse ends with the cryptic phrase "vehayita ach sameach". What does this mean, and how does it differ from simply "vehayita sameach"?

Normally, the word "ach" means "but" - introducing a new phrase which qualifies or limits the previous phrase. Here, the word "ach" is not attached to any other phrase, but nevertheless, Chazal understood it to mean "but" in the since of limitation. Since it is never specified WHAT the limitation is, Chazal and later commentators provided a number of suggestions. Among them: 1) Shemini Atzeret may be limited in its degree of "simcha" relative to Sukkot (this assumes that the point of the verse "vehayita ach sameach" as a whole is to teach us that Shemini Atzeret also has a mitzvah of simcha). 2) Even a person without family must perform the mitzvah of simcha, though he cannot do so in the full sense described here (i.e. with sons and daughters). 3) Happiness in this world is limited, in contrast to the World to Come, where it will be unlimited.

Ramban, though, provides a completely different understanding of the phrase. In his commentary to Devarim, he suggests that "ach" is a short version of "achen", meaning "indeed". Thus the phrase means "you shall indeed be happy". It is not a limitation on the holiday happiness, but rather a intensification and expansion of the happiness. Quite the opposite of what Chazal said!

Which of these two contrasting understanding is correct? The advantages of each are clear. Chazal's understanding better fits with the normal meaning of the word "ach". But only Ramban's understanding allows for the sentence to be fully comprehensible and grammatical. Is there an possible understanding which combines both of these advantages - the comprehensibility and the correct usage of the word "ach"?

I think the answer to this question comes from another short and underrated word - "aval". The words "ach" and "aval" are both popularly understood to mean "but". But the word "aval" can also mean "indeed", as it does in Breishit 42:21. There, Yosef's brothers say to one another: "Indeed, we are guilty regarding our brother, in that we saw his distress when he begged us and we did not listen; surely his blood is now being avenged." It makes no sense for the "Indeed" at the beginning of the phrase to mean "but", since it does not come after any other phrase. However, in other places, including modern Hebrew, "aval" does mean "but".

We are forced then to say that "aval" can mean both "indeed" and "but". Perhaps, then, the same is true of "ach"? This allows for an elegant answer to our original question. Chazal are correct that "ach" usually means to take something away, while Ramban is right that in this instance we are commanded to "indeed" be happy.

Indeed (no pun intended), the use of one word for both "but" and "indeed" is not so strange. The roles of those two words in language are not in fact so different. Both typically come after a complete sentence, and add onto the sentence by emphasizing a previously ignored but quite relevant fact. With "but" the new fact serves to limit the previous sentence; with "indeed" it strengthens the previous sentence. This is a difference, but (no pun intended) the correct meaning of the two is easily inferred from context, so there is little confusion in using the same word for both.

Hopefully now we have solved the puzzle of the well-known phrase "vehayita ach sameach". And I'm sure you'll agree with me that my limiting myself to but two unintended puns in this post was impressive, indeed.

Blog

Wow. It's been a long time since I've posted here. Don't worry though. I don't know if I'll ever resume posting here on a regular basis, but I am currently working on several bigger and better projects, some of which draw on the experience I received while writing this blog.

It's interesting how the rise and fall of this blog closely follows the rise and fall of the word "blog" in Google search results. But don't worry, I have NOT opened an account with Tumblr. In fact I didn't even know what it was until looking it up after seeing the aformentioned cartoon. In fact, even after looking it up I'm still not totally sure what Tumblr is.

Thoughts on Vayeshev

1. The original post

Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Israel, yea, for four, I will not reverse it: because they sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of shoes... (Amos 2:6)

It is commonly assumed that the Vayeshev haftarah (previously discussed here) is chosen because of this verse, which is taken to refer to the sale of Yosef.

Just today I thought of a compelling reason why Yosef’s sale CANNOT be what Amos had in mind when he said this prophecy. That does not mean the haftarah is a bad choice: Yosef WAS a righteous person (at least after the sale, from what we see), who WAS sold for silver, and it WAS a transgression, and it is fitting to recall this after reading the story of what happened to Yosef. But at the same time, if we want to understand Amos, we should be aware that this is not what Amos had in mind.

To see why, let us look at a selection of the verses
in Amos preceding the haftarah:

"For thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Damascus, yea, for four, I will not reverse it...
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Gaza, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Tyre, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Edom, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of the children of Ammon, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Moab, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Judah, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…"

This is a list of lots of different ancient Middle Eastern nations. After each one, it lists a few "war crimes" or other various sins that the nations are known to have committed, and then describes the punishment God will visit upon them as a result.

The last two nations in this list are Judah and Israel. Amos lived in the period of the divided kingdom, when "Judah" consisted of the tribes of Judah, Binyamin, Shimon, and perhaps part of Dan.

Meanwhile "Israel" consisted of the remaining tribes in the north. This meant the tribes of Gad and Reuven near the Dead Sea; the tribes of Zevulun, Yissachar, Naftali, Dan, and Asher in the Galilee; and Efraim and Menashe taking up the whole coastal plain, Shomron, and almost all of Transjordan. The Galilee tribes generally did an incomplete job of conquering the Canaanites, while Gad and Reuven were small and peripheral. Efraim and Menashe took up about half the area of the whole kingdom – moreover, the more central, secure, and powerful half of the kingdom. It is no surprise that the entire northern kingdom is sometimes referred to poetically as "Efraim" (as in "Haben yakir li efraim"), or as "Yosef" (Yechezkel 37) – Yosef of course being the father of both Efraim and Menasheh.

When the prophet Amos, in our haftarah, criticized the nation of "Israel" for selling the righteous, we may assume he was foremost referring to Efraim and Menasheh, who dominated the kingdom of Israel. But it would be quite strange to blame the sale of Yosef on the tribes of Efraim and Menasheh, who were themselves descendants of Yosef. That would mean blaming the victim (or his descendants) rather than the perpetrators, which I think is unreasonable, so Amos must be talking about a crime or crimes involving someone else.

2. An addition, made two years later (November 2013)

As you might expect, I end up discussing this idea at the same time each year. This time it was with my Friday night host - AS. But afterwards I felt something was incomplete. The verse says that Israelites "sell the righteous for silver". Why specify that they sell the righteous (of whom Yosef HaTzadik would be a great example)? Isn't it wrong to sell any human being, righteous or not?

The answer is no. Selling an evil person into (temporary) slavery was pretty common and entirely justified - if they were a thief (Shemot 22:2). The verse uses the word "tzadik" to indicate that they also sold innocent people into slavery, which is a very serious crime (Shemot 21:16). The word "tzadik" here means "innocent" (as in Devarim 25:1) - not "righteous" in the sense of necessarily being morally near-perfect.

Thanks to AS for helping clarify the linguistic aspects of this.

Thoughts on Vayishlach

Shall our sister be treated like a prostitute? (34:31)

A prostitute is generally understood to be someone who takes money in return for sex. True, the word "znut" can refer to promiscuity in general, but one might still wonder whether "zonah" is the most appropriate term for an unwilling rape victim.

But if we look closer at the proposal the city offered to Yaakov's family, perhaps we can understand why Dina's case was in fact similar to prostitution, and why the rhetorical question was not just imprecise rhetoric by angry young men.

The proposal goes as follows: "Please give [Dina] to [Shechem] as a wife. And marry among us: your daughters will be given to us and our daughters you will take for yourselves. And dwell with us: the land will be before you, dwell and do business and take hold of it." (34:8-10)

Besides the part about marrying together, this proposal contains two parts: Shechem gets Dina, and Yaakov's family gets the opportunity to do business.

A trade of Dina for business opportunities does look exactly like prostitution. No wonder, then, why Yaakov's sons reply so viciously to the deal, and why they killed the entire male population, not just Shechem. They were reacting to the proposal just as much as the act of rape itself.

This logic does not mean the mass killing was necessarily correct - for one thing, Yaakov objects to it (and at the end of his life, apparently not only on practical grounds) - but it does allow us to understand where the motivation for the killing came from.

Yaakov said to his household and all who were with him: "Remove the foreign gods that are among you." (35:2)
They gave to Yaakov all the foreign gods that were in their hands, and the earrings that were in their ears, and Yaakov buried them.... (35:4)

These verses raise two questions with me. 1) Why would Yaakov's household, which one would assume to be monotheistic, be in possession of idols? 2) Yaakov asked for the destruction of idols; why did the group give up their earrings as well, which Yaakov apparently did not ask for?

I think there is a common answer to both questions. It flows from the fact that at this point, Yaakov's sons had just conquered the city of Shechem, and (34:27) taken its plunder. One would expect that that plunder included any valuable objects in the city - and idols, often made out of precious metals, would certainly seem worth taking.

The Torah's attitude toward this, though, is not approving. Speaking of the later conquest by the Israelites, the Torah says: "The idols of their gods you shall burn in fire. You shall not desire gold and silver upon them and take for yourself, lest you be ensnared in it, for it is an abomination of Hashem your God." (Devarim 7:25) One might be tempted to take gold and silver idols in order to use the gold and silver, but the Torah later prohibits this.

Perhaps, then, Yaakov's sons took whatever idols they found in Shechem. As members of a third-generation monotheistic family, it would have been obvious to them that idols were not for worshipping, but not so obvious that idols could not be melted down and used for other purposes. Perhaps, of the idols they found, they took a few of them and fashioned their gold or silver into earrings, while holding onto the remaining idols until a good use for them could be found.

Yaakov may not have known what jewelry his family wore or where it came from. But when his family was implicitly told that not only worship but use of idols was forbidden, they realized that their jewelry had to be given up along with the intact idols.

Mitzvot for the deaf and blind

Physical disability, in general, does not affect a person's obligation to keep mitzvot. Someone who must use a wheelchair, for example, is obligated in all 613 mitzvot. However, there are three kinds of disability regarding which the sources suggest that a person was not obligated in mitzvot at all.

The first category is the "shoteh" - an "insane" or otherwise mentally impaired individual who is unable to comprehend the concept of Divine commandment or understand the actions he must perform. Such a person cannot be said to be "commanded", since no command was ever made to him in a way he could understand.

The second category is the "heresh", or mute person, who is mentioned alongside the "shoteh" and children as people not obligated in mitzvot. This equation is hard to understand nowadays, but once it made sense. Typically, a person was mute as a consequence of being deaf. The deaf could not learn anything from others except by reading, and reading materials were rare before the printing press was invented. Similarly, there were no speech therapists, no sign language, and no teaching of lip reading. So deaf people, too, was not "commanded", since they had no way of hearing Divine commands. (The Biblical idiom for to "obey" is to "listen to the voice of". The deaf literally could not "listen to the voice".) Nowadays, when we do have effective ways of communicating with and teaching the deaf, I believe halachic authorities generally view the deaf as having equal obligations to hearing Jews.

The third category is the blind. According to the accepted opinion, blind Jews have exactly the same halachic obligations as everyone else (except for a few mitzvot which explicitly involve seeing). However, there are minority opinions which suggest that this might not be the case. The most interesting opinion is that of the Pri Megadim (intro to Orach Chaim part 3), who holds that according to one opinion in the gemara, the blind are obligated in negative mitzvot, but not positive mitzvot.

What is the logic behind this distinction? One possibility (see here) is that the blind do not really need to do mitzvot, but they do need to be distinguishably Jewish. And violating a negative mitzvah does more to show that one is not Jewish: if I see you eat pork then I know you violate halacha, but if I do not see you praying it is possible that you will pray at some other time in the day.

The difficulty with this understanding is that it assumes the blind are like the deaf and insane - people to whom the concept of mitzvot cannot apply, since they do not have mental capacity. But a blind person does have mental capability, can communicate normally with other people, and can learn all of the Oral Torah at the very least. So it seems easier to me to say that the blind are inherently commanded and obligated in mitzvot but exempted from some, rather than that they are inherently exempt but have a special obligation in some.

Thus I want to explain as follows. Blind people have no limitations to their mental ability. Thus, they should be obligated in mitzvot. But they do have significant limitation on their actions. For example, wherever they go they are liable to stumble on things and injure themselves. And they have difficulty locating objects in order to perform actions using those objects.

Another class of people - women - also has limitations on the set of mitzvot they must do. At certain times, due to pregnancy and raising children, women are busy and unable to spend time on other commitments. Thus, women are exempt from positive time-related mitzvot. I suggest that since blind people face larger and more constant restrictions on their actions than do women, they have a larger mitzvah exemption. Rather than being exempt from positive time-related mitzvot, perhap they should be exempt from all positive mitzvot. Meanwhile, the limitations on blind people's actions do not impair their ability to uphold negative mitzvot, since by sitting and doing nothing they do not violate any negative mitzvah. Thus, they should be obligated in negative but not positive mitzvot. That is the exact combination which the Pri Megadim suggests.

Holidays and the Temple

Jewish holidays are generally distinguished by their focus on the Temple. Pesach, Sukkot, and Shavuot are occasions of obligatory pilgrimage and sacrifice, while Yom Kippur focuses on the day's special Temple service. Each holiday has special communal sacrifices, and on these days we are commanded to blow trumpets in the Temple. The holiday prayer "yaale veyavo" is recited only in those blessings - Retzeh (prayer) and Boneh Yerushalayim (birkat hamazon) - whose subject is the Temple. And so on and so on.

What, then, are we to do these days, when the Temple is destroyed? Instead of being occasions of celebration, should not holidays become days of pain, when we are directly confronted with what we have lost? Tisha Beav - now a day of mourning - will turn into a festive day once the Temple is rebuilt; wouldn't it be appropriate for holidays to be commemorated the same way?

My answer to this is no, and the explanation comes in two parts. First, to explain what the purpose of holidays is, beyond the particular rituals we can no longer perform. And second, to explain how that purpose is still fulfilled today.

First: Holidays were an opportunity for closeness with God. Of course, God is "found" in every place, and there are many opportunities for closeness unrelated to Temple. But the atmosphere of holidays, the prohibition on work, the physical closeness to "God's house", and the special rituals and celebrations, made holidays especially good opportunities for individuals to approach God. Moreover, as the entire nation celebrated together, holidays became occasions of national closeness to God.

Second: Despite the loss of the Temple, I believe we can still achieve this special holiday closeness. In the Temple, Divine closeness was achieved through certain rituals, like the Yom Kippur sacrifice with precipitated the forgiveness of our sins. Those rituals were a commandment, and the resulting closeness was the reward. We (the religious community) still want to perform these rituals, but we are prevented by circumstances from doing so. Halachically, this situation is defined as a situation of "oness". In such a situation, having done everything we are capable of doing, we are still entitled to the reward.

One may argue that this is not a situation of complete "oness", since the Temple's destruction is caused by our sins, and by repenting we could cause it to be rebuilt. This is true on one level, but false on another. The process of returning to Israel, appointing a king, rebuilding the Temple, and offering sacrifices takes a certain amount of time. We mourn all year for the Temple, because we have this time yet are not using it appropriately in order to speed up redemption. But once the holiday has begun, it is no longer possible to do all the tasks needed to rebuild the Temple. Regarding that particular holiday, we are truly in a state of "oness". We still perform whatever rituals we are capable of, and God still rewards us with His closeness as if we had performed all the other rituals as well.

Vahashevota el levavecha

The phrase in the title appears, I believe, just twice in Tanach. Literally it means to "return [something] to your heart". "Heart" in Tanach typically refers to your personality/identity/self - including both emotions, which our culture identifies with the heart, and thoughts. Since thoughts and emotions normally come out from the heart, to "return them to the heart" means to remind and convince yourself of them - to internalize them. Perhaps a more poetic translation would be "to take them to heart".

This meaning is clear from the first occurrence of the phrase, in Devarim 4:39-40, which is well known to us from the Aleinu prayer:
וידעת היום, והשבת אל לבבך, כי ה' הוא האלקים בשמים ממעל ועל הארץ מתחת, אין עוד. ושמרת את חקיו ואת מצותיו, אשר אנכי מצוך היום, אשר ייטב לך...
We are supposed to internalize the fact that our God is the only god, and this knowledge will motivate us to keep the commandments.

The second occurrence (Devarim 30:1-2) is harder to understand.
והיה כי יבאו עליך כל-הדברים האלה, הברכה והקללה אשר נתתי לפניך, והשבת אל-לבבך, בכל-הגוים אשר הדיחך ה' אלהיך שמה. ושבת עד ה' אלקיך, ושמעת בקלו...
When the blessing (of reward when we obey God) and curse (of punishment when we disobey) come to pass, we should take to heart... what? The verse does not say what we should take to heart!

I think the answer is that we should take "it" to heart - with "it" being the content of the previous phrase. We should take THE COMING TO PASS OF THE BLESSINGS AND CURSES to heart. We realize that God in fact rewards and punishes, and that is a motivation for us to repent.

If that is the meaning, then how does the grammar work out?

Perhaps the phrase is intentionally incomplete for reasons of conciseness. It should say "take ____ to heart", but because here the phrase "____" is so long, it is omitted and the listener is supposed to figure it out and insert it mentally.

Or perhaps "take to heart", without a subject, means to take to heart whatever is natural to take to heart in the circumstances. If at some point in your life, you are confronted by direct evidence of God's control of the world, that awareness can be enough to drastically reorient a life which has been based on the proposition that God is irrelevant to the world's functioning and to our behavior.