A kohen cannot marry a divorcee, "zonah", or "chalalah". A kohen gadol, additionally, cannot marry a widow. Why do these laws exist?
My theory is that:
1) Speculatively: If a kohen married a promiscuous woman, it would shame him and by extension his priestly office. People would assume that her immorality reflected his immorality, or that he was likely suffering the humiliation of being cheated on by her. To avoid this shame to him and his office, he is prohibited to marry a "zonah", who was promiscuous. Perhaps the law of "chalalah" fits here too.
2) Speculatively: In ancient times divorce was usually due to suspicion of infidelity on the part of the wife. Therefore, a kohen marrying a divorcee would present the same issue as marrying a known promiscuous woman (perhaps to a lesser extent), so the Torah prohibits it.
The Mishna (Gittin 9:10) lists three opinions about when a husband may divorce his wife:
* Beit Shammai: only if he found a "matter of immorality" in her
* Beit Hillel: Even if she burned his food
* R' Akiva: Even if he found a more beautiful woman
Modern halacha follows R' Akiva, but all three opinions have their basis in Biblical verses (mentioned in the Mishna), and it may be assumed that all three are reasonable interpretations of the attitude to divorce expressed in the Bible. If we are to take the "consensus" of these opinions, it seems likely that many divorces in Biblical times were motivated by the wife's suspected adultery, even if there was no requirement that ALL divorces have this basis.
Should this approach stigmatize divorcees today as likely adulterers? No. Many divorces nowadays have no connection to adultery, and even if a kohen married a known adulterer, I don't think her stigma would transfer as easily to him now as it did in the past. So nowadays, this is a law without a purpose. This is not disturbing: There are many mitzvot whose purpose was relevant in the ancient world and not today (for example: not making sculptures of the moon, lest you worship it), and I am comfortable adding one more to the list.
This approach suggests that if a woman was divorced and then widowed, she would still be forbidden to a kohen, as the stigma from her original divorce would remain in her history. (This seems to be accepted halacha today.)
3) Speculatively: The kohen gadol must have even higher standards than a regular kohen. Thus he must marry a virgin, and cannot even marry a widow.
A virgin can be physically examined for signs of virginity. A widow has no signs of virginity, so there is no conclusive way of verifying that she has never been promiscuous. Apparently, for the kohen gadol, the requirements are similar to a regular kohen, but stricter.
This assumes that virginity is a physical state, which can be determined by physical examination. I hear that according to modern science (and to a lesser extent, sources in Chazal), this is not the case: a woman can have or lack the physical signs of "virginity" whether or not she is actually a virgin. But because our approach is based on how the kohen gadol in ancient times was viewed by people around him, what matter is not the science, but rather what ancient people *thought* was the science, even if they were wrong.
Showing posts with label halacha. Show all posts
Showing posts with label halacha. Show all posts
Saturday, August 03, 2019
Friday, December 22, 2017
Bitcoin and halacha
The Bitcoin cryptocurrency has recently been in the news as its price continues to escalate. I was lucky enough to hear a friend of mine, a religious computer scientist named A., give a shiur on the halachic aspects of Bitcoin. Here is a summary based on my notes.
1. KINYAN
Mishna Bava Metzia 4:1 discusses the case of using money to buy goods. It specifies, using several examples, that the kinyan must be done on the goods and not the money. For example, one may do "meshicha" on a utensil, which transfers ownership of the utensil to one party and the money to the other party. The reverse does not work: doing a "kinyan" on the money does not transfer ownership of the utensil.
(The gemara explains that the law was originally different. On a deoraita level, transactions are in fact done via money rather than goods. However, rabbinic law reversed the procedure. This was done to avoid the situation where the money had been transferred, making the transaction valid, but the goods were still with their original owner. Were the goods to be endangered due to a fire or similar disaster, the possessor of the goods would not exert himself to save them, since they no longer belonged to him. Chazal did not like this possibility, so they changed the law to make the transaction dependent on transfer of goods.)
The upshot of these discussions is that one cannot take for granted that one's commercial activity has automatic halachic validity. If you want your transaction to be halachically valid, you must look closely at how you are performing it. So, for example, waving a lulav bought with a credit card might be halachically problematic. To perform the mitzvah on the first day of Sukkot, the lulav must halachically belong to you, but was the credit card transaction valid? Was it you paying the lulav seller, or the credit card company?
Sometimes this type of question is resolved by government regulation - "dina demalchuta dina". But this is not the case with Bitcoin, where the transactions happen online independent of any government, and generally without any government policy on their validity.
In this case, we might turn to "situmta" ("custom of the merchants") - an accepted commercial practice which halacha recognizes, even though it differs from the Torah's laws of transaction.
The key question regarding bitcoin transactions is: at what point does the transaction go through?
Imagine the case of a dishonest person who has $10 in their bank account, and writes $10 checks to two separate people. One of the checks is cashed, and their bank account goes down to $0. From now on, the second check will bounce rather than go through.
This works because there is a centralized authority - the bank - keeping track of how much money people have. However, no such authority exists regarding Bitcoin. You can send money to two different people, even if you don't have it. After some time, one of the transfers will be "confirmed", and the other is not.
In fact, it's possible for BOTH transactions can be confirmed. This causes the transaction record to "fork", as half the network thinks that one transfer went through, and the other half thinks that the other transaction went through. So there are two, mutually contradictory "histories" held by Bitcoin miners on the internet.
What happens in this situation? When the next transaction occurs, the network's nodes will each choose one of the two histories, generally the more popular one. So one of the two histories will come to dominate the network, while the other becomes less and less prevalent until it disappears. This process occurs at an exponential rate, with one history spreading very quickly. Generally, the rule of thumb is that if your transaction is still recognized as valid after 6 other transactions, it is safe to assume that the Bitcoin network has reached equilibrium, and the entire network recognizes it as valid.
But even after 6, or 50, or any number of transactions you can never know for sure that the transaction is valid. There is still an infinitesimally small chance that it will be rejected in the future. From a halachic perspective, this is the interesting bit - there is no real finality to any transaction, unlike "normal" transactions, where an object is physically transferred at a particular moment. At what point, then, does halacha recognize a Bitcoin transaction as a valid kinyan?
It is hard to come up with an objective answer to this. But perhaps the rule of "situmta" applies - the 6-transaction rule is the accepted practice of Bitcoin "merchants", and therefore halacha accepts it as well.
2. CHALIFIN
In the "chalifin" kinyan, one party takes a object from the other, and that causes the entire kinyan to be valid. For example, if one is trading a donkey for a cow, one can take possession of the donkey, and ownership of the cow will be transferred at the same moment.
There is a rule (Bava Metzia 45b) that "a coin cannot be used for chalifin", because "its imprint may be nullified" ("tzurta avida devetala"). That is to say, a coin is "fiat currency" which derives its value (primarily) from the government stamp of approval rather than from the metal it is made of. So if the government decides no longer to recognize the coin, its value disappears. The gemara considers this to be mutually incompatible with being the object transferred in chalifin.
(Note: the shiur giver referred me to an article by R' Asher Meir on the Gush website, asserting that in the time of mishna the value of a coin equalled the value of the silver in it, while by the gemara's time a coin's value was already mostly by the fiat of the government. I was not able to find the article offhand, but this is interesting historical context.)
What about Bitcoin? Bitcoin is a distributed currency that no government has the power to devalue. So perhaps it is usable for chalifin?
3. RIBIT
The Torah prohibits loaning money with interest.
In addition, the rabbis prohibited lending "seah beseah" (one measure of wheat now, in exchange for one measure of wheat in the future), because the price of wheat changes with time, so the value you return may be greater than the value you borrowed, resembling the payment of a loan with interest. Some amoraim extended this prohibition to lending "zahav bezahav" - gold for gold, at a time when money was typically silver.
The exchange rate of Bitcoin fluctuates very quickly, so it would seem that lending Bitcoin and returning an equal amount of Bitcoin would be problematic.
4. SHMIRAH
For a Bitcoin transaction to take place, one must provide a cryptographic "signature" to ensure they are the owner of the money they are transferring. There is also a concept called "multisignature", by which multiple signatures must be provided before money can be sent. Alternatively, an account can be set up so that the approval of *either* partner, rather than both, is sufficient to send money.
Just like a physical object can be entrusted to another person for guarding, one can imagine Bitcoins being entrusted to multiple people for guarding. If so, the halachic laws of shmirah might would need to be applied in new ways.
5. AVEDAH
In halacha, lost objects must be returned if they have an identifying sign ("siman") that allows them to be returned to the correct owner.
Bitcoin value is accessed by a "private key", a unique randomly generated string of numbers. If you forget the number, your value is lost forever, since with current computing resources it's essentially impossible to regenerate the string.
Since this number is so unique, one could imagine that it is the best type of "siman" imaginable.
However, in the case of "avdah mimenu umikol adam" - when it seems essentially impossible for any person to recover the object, for example if it was washed away by a river - there is no requirement to return the object, even if it has a siman.
Since it is so difficult to recover a lost Bitcoin signature, one might think that it falls in this category, of objects that do not need to be returned if they are somehow found.
1. KINYAN
Mishna Bava Metzia 4:1 discusses the case of using money to buy goods. It specifies, using several examples, that the kinyan must be done on the goods and not the money. For example, one may do "meshicha" on a utensil, which transfers ownership of the utensil to one party and the money to the other party. The reverse does not work: doing a "kinyan" on the money does not transfer ownership of the utensil.
(The gemara explains that the law was originally different. On a deoraita level, transactions are in fact done via money rather than goods. However, rabbinic law reversed the procedure. This was done to avoid the situation where the money had been transferred, making the transaction valid, but the goods were still with their original owner. Were the goods to be endangered due to a fire or similar disaster, the possessor of the goods would not exert himself to save them, since they no longer belonged to him. Chazal did not like this possibility, so they changed the law to make the transaction dependent on transfer of goods.)
The upshot of these discussions is that one cannot take for granted that one's commercial activity has automatic halachic validity. If you want your transaction to be halachically valid, you must look closely at how you are performing it. So, for example, waving a lulav bought with a credit card might be halachically problematic. To perform the mitzvah on the first day of Sukkot, the lulav must halachically belong to you, but was the credit card transaction valid? Was it you paying the lulav seller, or the credit card company?
Sometimes this type of question is resolved by government regulation - "dina demalchuta dina". But this is not the case with Bitcoin, where the transactions happen online independent of any government, and generally without any government policy on their validity.
In this case, we might turn to "situmta" ("custom of the merchants") - an accepted commercial practice which halacha recognizes, even though it differs from the Torah's laws of transaction.
The key question regarding bitcoin transactions is: at what point does the transaction go through?
Imagine the case of a dishonest person who has $10 in their bank account, and writes $10 checks to two separate people. One of the checks is cashed, and their bank account goes down to $0. From now on, the second check will bounce rather than go through.
This works because there is a centralized authority - the bank - keeping track of how much money people have. However, no such authority exists regarding Bitcoin. You can send money to two different people, even if you don't have it. After some time, one of the transfers will be "confirmed", and the other is not.
In fact, it's possible for BOTH transactions can be confirmed. This causes the transaction record to "fork", as half the network thinks that one transfer went through, and the other half thinks that the other transaction went through. So there are two, mutually contradictory "histories" held by Bitcoin miners on the internet.
What happens in this situation? When the next transaction occurs, the network's nodes will each choose one of the two histories, generally the more popular one. So one of the two histories will come to dominate the network, while the other becomes less and less prevalent until it disappears. This process occurs at an exponential rate, with one history spreading very quickly. Generally, the rule of thumb is that if your transaction is still recognized as valid after 6 other transactions, it is safe to assume that the Bitcoin network has reached equilibrium, and the entire network recognizes it as valid.
But even after 6, or 50, or any number of transactions you can never know for sure that the transaction is valid. There is still an infinitesimally small chance that it will be rejected in the future. From a halachic perspective, this is the interesting bit - there is no real finality to any transaction, unlike "normal" transactions, where an object is physically transferred at a particular moment. At what point, then, does halacha recognize a Bitcoin transaction as a valid kinyan?
It is hard to come up with an objective answer to this. But perhaps the rule of "situmta" applies - the 6-transaction rule is the accepted practice of Bitcoin "merchants", and therefore halacha accepts it as well.
2. CHALIFIN
In the "chalifin" kinyan, one party takes a object from the other, and that causes the entire kinyan to be valid. For example, if one is trading a donkey for a cow, one can take possession of the donkey, and ownership of the cow will be transferred at the same moment.
There is a rule (Bava Metzia 45b) that "a coin cannot be used for chalifin", because "its imprint may be nullified" ("tzurta avida devetala"). That is to say, a coin is "fiat currency" which derives its value (primarily) from the government stamp of approval rather than from the metal it is made of. So if the government decides no longer to recognize the coin, its value disappears. The gemara considers this to be mutually incompatible with being the object transferred in chalifin.
(Note: the shiur giver referred me to an article by R' Asher Meir on the Gush website, asserting that in the time of mishna the value of a coin equalled the value of the silver in it, while by the gemara's time a coin's value was already mostly by the fiat of the government. I was not able to find the article offhand, but this is interesting historical context.)
What about Bitcoin? Bitcoin is a distributed currency that no government has the power to devalue. So perhaps it is usable for chalifin?
3. RIBIT
The Torah prohibits loaning money with interest.
In addition, the rabbis prohibited lending "seah beseah" (one measure of wheat now, in exchange for one measure of wheat in the future), because the price of wheat changes with time, so the value you return may be greater than the value you borrowed, resembling the payment of a loan with interest. Some amoraim extended this prohibition to lending "zahav bezahav" - gold for gold, at a time when money was typically silver.
The exchange rate of Bitcoin fluctuates very quickly, so it would seem that lending Bitcoin and returning an equal amount of Bitcoin would be problematic.
4. SHMIRAH
For a Bitcoin transaction to take place, one must provide a cryptographic "signature" to ensure they are the owner of the money they are transferring. There is also a concept called "multisignature", by which multiple signatures must be provided before money can be sent. Alternatively, an account can be set up so that the approval of *either* partner, rather than both, is sufficient to send money.
Just like a physical object can be entrusted to another person for guarding, one can imagine Bitcoins being entrusted to multiple people for guarding. If so, the halachic laws of shmirah might would need to be applied in new ways.
5. AVEDAH
In halacha, lost objects must be returned if they have an identifying sign ("siman") that allows them to be returned to the correct owner.
Bitcoin value is accessed by a "private key", a unique randomly generated string of numbers. If you forget the number, your value is lost forever, since with current computing resources it's essentially impossible to regenerate the string.
Since this number is so unique, one could imagine that it is the best type of "siman" imaginable.
However, in the case of "avdah mimenu umikol adam" - when it seems essentially impossible for any person to recover the object, for example if it was washed away by a river - there is no requirement to return the object, even if it has a siman.
Since it is so difficult to recover a lost Bitcoin signature, one might think that it falls in this category, of objects that do not need to be returned if they are somehow found.
Thursday, October 06, 2016
The shofar in Mussaf
There may not be less than ten [verses for] Malchuyot, ten for Zichronot, ten for Shofarot. Rabbi Yohanan ben Nuri says: If one said three of each, he fulfills his obligation. (Mishna Rosh Hashana 4:6)
Mussaf for Rosh Hashana is unusual. Where else do we have Biblical verses inserted into blessings? Occasionally we see a single verse being inserted as a proof-text, for example in the Aneinu prayer for fast days ("Answer us before we call out, as it says: It shall be that before they call out I will answer them"). But once you have one good proof-text, there is no need for another one. There is certainly no need for a set number of verses - 10 in our case. In fact, according to the Mishna above, it doesn't even matter which verses you choose (within reason) as long as there are 10 of them! Why should there be such an unusual requirement?
The following idea is speculative, but it rings true to me. The different opinions in the Mishna require either 10 or 3 verses. In the context of Rosh Hashana, these numbers do not seem to be random. 10 are the number of shofar blasts we blow after Malchuyot (and Zichronot, and Shofarot). 3 is the number of blasts we would blow, if we knew what a "teruah" was meant to be!
So here is my hypothesis. Once a time, the practice was to recite a verse, and then immediately blow the shofar once. You would recite "With trumpets and the sound of the shofar, blow before the King Hashem" (Tehilim 98:6) and then you would do exactly that. You would blow the shofar along with your Zichronot, making the day a "zichron teruah" (Vayikra 23:24) in the literal sense. And you would recite "The voice of the shofar grew steadily stronger, Moshe would speak and God would answer him aloud" (Shemot 19:19) and then blow the shofar, reenacting the giving of the Torah at Sinai. I think all of Mussaf would gain an extra level of powerfulness if conducted this way.
How does this work out halachically?
Shofar is an unusual mitzvah in that if you blow the blasts one by one, with interruptions between them, you still fulfill the mitzvah. This means that inserting them into mussaf in between verses is not a problem.
A complication arises with the number 10. In theory we blow the shofar 3 or 9, not 10, times for each blessing. This is because we are supposed to do a tekiah-"teruah"-tekiah set for each blessing. We don't know exactly what the required "teruah" is, so we do three different options, one of them tekiah-shevarim-teruah-tekiah (in case the halachic "teruah" is our shevarim-teruah). But this shevarim-teruah is technically considered a single blast, so it would be strange to assign two verses to it, and inserting a verse between the shevarim and the teruah would likely be a forbidden interruption. As a further complication, the number 10 is mentioned in the Mishna, while it seems likely that the uncertainty over the "teruah" did not arise until later.
Let us leave the number 10, then, and move to R' Yohanan ben Nuri's opinion, that only 3 verses are required. These three would match well the tekiah-teruah-tekiah of the basic halacha. An unanswered question here is why some verses would correspond to tekiah, and others to teruah, without a clear justification. A further issue is that R' Yohanan ben Nuri's opinion in the previous mishna is that one recites Malchuyot in the 3rd blessing of Mussaf, but only blows the shofar in the 4th blessing (and 5th and 6th for Zichronot and Shofarot, like we do). So the same R' Yohanan ben Nuri who provides us with the number 3, also disconnects the verses from the shofar blasts!
On the bottom line, I think all these halachic issues can be overcome (with 3 verses being the more likely direction to go in, even though we cannot follow R' Yohanan ben Nuri's opinion across the board).
I thought of this idea before or during Mussaf (I forget which) on the first day of Rosh Hashana this year. It made my Mussaf that day more meaningful, as I envisioned the shofar blasts that could have once accompanied each verse. But it made my second day's Mussaf less meaningful, as I saw Mussaf as a broken version of the original shofar-using prayer, rather than a verbal composition that stands on its own! So I can't really say whether having read this post will be spiritually positive or negative for you. But I think the idea is a fascinating possibility, so here you go.
Mussaf for Rosh Hashana is unusual. Where else do we have Biblical verses inserted into blessings? Occasionally we see a single verse being inserted as a proof-text, for example in the Aneinu prayer for fast days ("Answer us before we call out, as it says: It shall be that before they call out I will answer them"). But once you have one good proof-text, there is no need for another one. There is certainly no need for a set number of verses - 10 in our case. In fact, according to the Mishna above, it doesn't even matter which verses you choose (within reason) as long as there are 10 of them! Why should there be such an unusual requirement?
The following idea is speculative, but it rings true to me. The different opinions in the Mishna require either 10 or 3 verses. In the context of Rosh Hashana, these numbers do not seem to be random. 10 are the number of shofar blasts we blow after Malchuyot (and Zichronot, and Shofarot). 3 is the number of blasts we would blow, if we knew what a "teruah" was meant to be!
So here is my hypothesis. Once a time, the practice was to recite a verse, and then immediately blow the shofar once. You would recite "With trumpets and the sound of the shofar, blow before the King Hashem" (Tehilim 98:6) and then you would do exactly that. You would blow the shofar along with your Zichronot, making the day a "zichron teruah" (Vayikra 23:24) in the literal sense. And you would recite "The voice of the shofar grew steadily stronger, Moshe would speak and God would answer him aloud" (Shemot 19:19) and then blow the shofar, reenacting the giving of the Torah at Sinai. I think all of Mussaf would gain an extra level of powerfulness if conducted this way.
How does this work out halachically?
Shofar is an unusual mitzvah in that if you blow the blasts one by one, with interruptions between them, you still fulfill the mitzvah. This means that inserting them into mussaf in between verses is not a problem.
A complication arises with the number 10. In theory we blow the shofar 3 or 9, not 10, times for each blessing. This is because we are supposed to do a tekiah-"teruah"-tekiah set for each blessing. We don't know exactly what the required "teruah" is, so we do three different options, one of them tekiah-shevarim-teruah-tekiah (in case the halachic "teruah" is our shevarim-teruah). But this shevarim-teruah is technically considered a single blast, so it would be strange to assign two verses to it, and inserting a verse between the shevarim and the teruah would likely be a forbidden interruption. As a further complication, the number 10 is mentioned in the Mishna, while it seems likely that the uncertainty over the "teruah" did not arise until later.
Let us leave the number 10, then, and move to R' Yohanan ben Nuri's opinion, that only 3 verses are required. These three would match well the tekiah-teruah-tekiah of the basic halacha. An unanswered question here is why some verses would correspond to tekiah, and others to teruah, without a clear justification. A further issue is that R' Yohanan ben Nuri's opinion in the previous mishna is that one recites Malchuyot in the 3rd blessing of Mussaf, but only blows the shofar in the 4th blessing (and 5th and 6th for Zichronot and Shofarot, like we do). So the same R' Yohanan ben Nuri who provides us with the number 3, also disconnects the verses from the shofar blasts!
On the bottom line, I think all these halachic issues can be overcome (with 3 verses being the more likely direction to go in, even though we cannot follow R' Yohanan ben Nuri's opinion across the board).
I thought of this idea before or during Mussaf (I forget which) on the first day of Rosh Hashana this year. It made my Mussaf that day more meaningful, as I envisioned the shofar blasts that could have once accompanied each verse. But it made my second day's Mussaf less meaningful, as I saw Mussaf as a broken version of the original shofar-using prayer, rather than a verbal composition that stands on its own! So I can't really say whether having read this post will be spiritually positive or negative for you. But I think the idea is a fascinating possibility, so here you go.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Kol Isha
"A woman's voice is nakedness" (Brachot 24a)
The justification of this statement is not obvious to everyone today. Sure, many people go to concerts in order to swoon over the performer of the opposite sex, but there good looks and suggestive dancing are at least as much an attraction as a good voice. And those performers are generally required to have relatively good voices. For the rest of us, with our often ugly voices, the attraction is clearly much weaker. Yet Chazal called that voice "nakedness", and prohibited listening to it in the same line in which they prohibited staring at a woman's leg!
To me, this is best understood by reference to Greek mythology. Measures of sexual attractiveness are influenced by one's culture, and the Greeks and Romans whom Chazal lived among found the female voice to be very seductive. I am thinking of the myth of Odysseus and the Sirens. There are, it is told, sea-dwelling creatures which sing in a woman's voice, whose song is so seductive that any man who hears them will have an irresistible urge to abandon ship and swim to them, only to be killed. Unlike the mermaids of other cultures, who often had beautiful bodies, the sirens were attractive only because of their voices. The rabbinic decree of kol isha responded to what, at the time, was apparently a very strong temptation, as hinted to by the myth of the sirens.
The justification of this statement is not obvious to everyone today. Sure, many people go to concerts in order to swoon over the performer of the opposite sex, but there good looks and suggestive dancing are at least as much an attraction as a good voice. And those performers are generally required to have relatively good voices. For the rest of us, with our often ugly voices, the attraction is clearly much weaker. Yet Chazal called that voice "nakedness", and prohibited listening to it in the same line in which they prohibited staring at a woman's leg!
To me, this is best understood by reference to Greek mythology. Measures of sexual attractiveness are influenced by one's culture, and the Greeks and Romans whom Chazal lived among found the female voice to be very seductive. I am thinking of the myth of Odysseus and the Sirens. There are, it is told, sea-dwelling creatures which sing in a woman's voice, whose song is so seductive that any man who hears them will have an irresistible urge to abandon ship and swim to them, only to be killed. Unlike the mermaids of other cultures, who often had beautiful bodies, the sirens were attractive only because of their voices. The rabbinic decree of kol isha responded to what, at the time, was apparently a very strong temptation, as hinted to by the myth of the sirens.
Monday, May 02, 2011
Thoughts on Emor
A kohen is allowed to make himself impure only when one of four categories of people dies: 1) his parent 2) his child 3) his brother 4) his unmarried sister. Why these four exceptions, and no more and no less?
Let us start by suggesting why a kohen may not become impure in general. It seems to me that this is because he must always be ready to serve in the Temple. If he touches a corpse, he makes himself impure and unable to serve for at least seven days. He must avoid this, in case he is needed to perform Temple service.
But when certain family members die, the prohibition on becoming impure is suspended. Which factors can be strong enough to override our interest in having the kohen always ready for service?
One natural guess would be that due to the emotional bonds a person feels to their immediate family, it would be cruel to exclude them from the burial and mourning process. But a person can mourn without actually approaching the corpse and making themselves impure. And it is not obvious why one's bonds to a married sister would be so much weaker than to an unmarried sister or a brother.
A variation of this approach is to note that the Temple is intrinsically a place of happiness ("usmachtem lifnei hashem elokechem") and life (the tablets in the Temple, like the tree in the Garden of Eden, are an "etz chaim" guarded by keruvim). (In fact, this may be the source for the entire prohibition on ritual impurity, which typically comes from death, in the Temple.) Perhaps a kohen will be so distressed by a death in the family that he will not be able to carry out his service with the properly happy attitude. But here, too, it is not clear why the Torah should differentiate between married and unmarried sisters.
When thinking up this post on the bus today, I came up with a third possible reason for the prohibition. I couldn't rule it out, but now I've forgotten it. So as I now present a fourth reason, keep in mind that I'm not 100% sure it's correct.
The fourth possible reason is that the kohen was needed for the actual work of carrying out the burial. Let us assume that the burial process necessarily involved men, if only because certain parts of it required heavy physical labor. We can see that the relatives for whom a kohen may become impure are exactly those who would likely not have another man available to bury them. For this purpose, imagine now that I am a kohen and one of my relatives has died.
- If my father dies, he may not have any brothers, and his father is probably dead by now (or at least too old for physical labor). If my mother dies, there is a good chance that my father has already died and the situation is the same. Thus, the task is left to me.
- If my child dies, he or she may not have a brother who can bury them - leaving the task to me.
- If my brother or sister dies, I may be the only brother, and our father may be dead or too old - leaving the task to me.
But there is an exception to the last rule: if my sister is married. Then, her husband can perform the burial, so there is no reason for me to do it and become impure.
This reasoning explains each of the categories listed in the Torah. The only exception is a married daughter, who by this logic should be buried by her husband, not by her father. But we may suggest that in general a man's daughter, unlike his sister, would not get married until after he lost his life or physical vigor.
Having concluded that the law here is based on a balance between the need for Temple service and the need to carry out the burial, let us now look at the case of the kohen gadol, who was not allowed to impurify himself for any relative.
We could justify this law by adjusting the balance from either of its ends. We could say that the kohen gadol's need to serve was greater - he was expected to offer at least one sacrifice every single day ("minchat chavitin"), unlike the normal kohen who might be called on to serve only on rare occasions. (Of course, the fact that even these rare occasions necessitate a constant avoidance of impurity indicates how important Temple service actually is.) Alternatively, we could say that his need to bury was lesser - he necessarily lived near the Temple, and plenty of other people were around to do the burial for him.
There is one circumstance where, perhaps, we can test which of these alternatives is true. If even the kohen gadol encountered a "met mitzvah" - a corpse with nobody to bury it - he was required to bury it, despite the resulting impurity. Does this prove that the kohen gadol could not bury his relatives only because other people were around to do it, so in a case where by definition nobody was around, he was required to bury?
It is tempting logic, but I don't think we need to throw out the consideration of the kohen gadol's daily sacrifice. That is one mitzvah, but burying a corpse is another mitzvah. For the kohen gadol who has just encountered the corpse, perhaps we can say that the more immediate mitzvah of burial took precedence over the mitzvah which would only have been performed later that day.
Let us start by suggesting why a kohen may not become impure in general. It seems to me that this is because he must always be ready to serve in the Temple. If he touches a corpse, he makes himself impure and unable to serve for at least seven days. He must avoid this, in case he is needed to perform Temple service.
But when certain family members die, the prohibition on becoming impure is suspended. Which factors can be strong enough to override our interest in having the kohen always ready for service?
One natural guess would be that due to the emotional bonds a person feels to their immediate family, it would be cruel to exclude them from the burial and mourning process. But a person can mourn without actually approaching the corpse and making themselves impure. And it is not obvious why one's bonds to a married sister would be so much weaker than to an unmarried sister or a brother.
A variation of this approach is to note that the Temple is intrinsically a place of happiness ("usmachtem lifnei hashem elokechem") and life (the tablets in the Temple, like the tree in the Garden of Eden, are an "etz chaim" guarded by keruvim). (In fact, this may be the source for the entire prohibition on ritual impurity, which typically comes from death, in the Temple.) Perhaps a kohen will be so distressed by a death in the family that he will not be able to carry out his service with the properly happy attitude. But here, too, it is not clear why the Torah should differentiate between married and unmarried sisters.
When thinking up this post on the bus today, I came up with a third possible reason for the prohibition. I couldn't rule it out, but now I've forgotten it. So as I now present a fourth reason, keep in mind that I'm not 100% sure it's correct.
The fourth possible reason is that the kohen was needed for the actual work of carrying out the burial. Let us assume that the burial process necessarily involved men, if only because certain parts of it required heavy physical labor. We can see that the relatives for whom a kohen may become impure are exactly those who would likely not have another man available to bury them. For this purpose, imagine now that I am a kohen and one of my relatives has died.
- If my father dies, he may not have any brothers, and his father is probably dead by now (or at least too old for physical labor). If my mother dies, there is a good chance that my father has already died and the situation is the same. Thus, the task is left to me.
- If my child dies, he or she may not have a brother who can bury them - leaving the task to me.
- If my brother or sister dies, I may be the only brother, and our father may be dead or too old - leaving the task to me.
But there is an exception to the last rule: if my sister is married. Then, her husband can perform the burial, so there is no reason for me to do it and become impure.
This reasoning explains each of the categories listed in the Torah. The only exception is a married daughter, who by this logic should be buried by her husband, not by her father. But we may suggest that in general a man's daughter, unlike his sister, would not get married until after he lost his life or physical vigor.
Having concluded that the law here is based on a balance between the need for Temple service and the need to carry out the burial, let us now look at the case of the kohen gadol, who was not allowed to impurify himself for any relative.
We could justify this law by adjusting the balance from either of its ends. We could say that the kohen gadol's need to serve was greater - he was expected to offer at least one sacrifice every single day ("minchat chavitin"), unlike the normal kohen who might be called on to serve only on rare occasions. (Of course, the fact that even these rare occasions necessitate a constant avoidance of impurity indicates how important Temple service actually is.) Alternatively, we could say that his need to bury was lesser - he necessarily lived near the Temple, and plenty of other people were around to do the burial for him.
There is one circumstance where, perhaps, we can test which of these alternatives is true. If even the kohen gadol encountered a "met mitzvah" - a corpse with nobody to bury it - he was required to bury it, despite the resulting impurity. Does this prove that the kohen gadol could not bury his relatives only because other people were around to do it, so in a case where by definition nobody was around, he was required to bury?
It is tempting logic, but I don't think we need to throw out the consideration of the kohen gadol's daily sacrifice. That is one mitzvah, but burying a corpse is another mitzvah. For the kohen gadol who has just encountered the corpse, perhaps we can say that the more immediate mitzvah of burial took precedence over the mitzvah which would only have been performed later that day.
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
Negel wasser
The Mishna Brura (Orach Chaim 4:1,4:8) gives several different possible reasons for the three-time hand washing we perform each morning upon awaking. It does not decide which reason is correct, but says that we are careful to keep the stringencies that would be implied by each of the three reasons.
The reasons are:
1. Your hands move around at night. They may have touched dirty parts of the body and become dirty themselves. If that happened, they must be washed before praying or saying blessings.
2. Sleep is associated with death ("one sixtieth part of death" according to Brachot 57b). Death is associated with an "evil spirit" ("ruach raah") which supposedly can harm you if it enters your body (generally through an orifice). You must wash your hands each morning to remove the evil spirit that has descended upon your hands. If you touch a bodily orifice before washing your hands in the morning, the evil spirit will enter your body and harm you. If you touch food before washing your hands, whoever eats the food will suffer the same consequences.
This idea of evil spirits is an interesting parallel to the modern idea of infectious diseases, which could be contracted by touching a diseased corpse, and which hand washing would defend against.
3. Sleep is associated with death, and upon awaking one is effectively reborn.
This last reason has interesting parallels in other areas of halacha. 1) A convert must immerse upon being "reborn" as a Jew. 2) A woman must immerse when a new egg appears in her reproductive system, before having relations with her husband and converting that egg into a new living being.
The reasons are:
1. Your hands move around at night. They may have touched dirty parts of the body and become dirty themselves. If that happened, they must be washed before praying or saying blessings.
2. Sleep is associated with death ("one sixtieth part of death" according to Brachot 57b). Death is associated with an "evil spirit" ("ruach raah") which supposedly can harm you if it enters your body (generally through an orifice). You must wash your hands each morning to remove the evil spirit that has descended upon your hands. If you touch a bodily orifice before washing your hands in the morning, the evil spirit will enter your body and harm you. If you touch food before washing your hands, whoever eats the food will suffer the same consequences.
This idea of evil spirits is an interesting parallel to the modern idea of infectious diseases, which could be contracted by touching a diseased corpse, and which hand washing would defend against.
3. Sleep is associated with death, and upon awaking one is effectively reborn.
This last reason has interesting parallels in other areas of halacha. 1) A convert must immerse upon being "reborn" as a Jew. 2) A woman must immerse when a new egg appears in her reproductive system, before having relations with her husband and converting that egg into a new living being.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Hok and Hukah
The word "hok" or "hukah" appears regularly in Tanach and later writings. Often, the word clearly means regularity/constancy/periodicity, as in birkat halevana: חק וזמן נתן להם, שלא ישנו את תפקידם.
Chazal, discussing Parah Adumah, have a very different understanding of the word. According to them, a "hok" is a commandment whose rationale we do not understand, unlike many other commandments (i.e. murder, theft) for which the justification is clear.
How can we reconcile the idea that "hok" means regularity with Chazal's idea that "hok" means arbitrariness?
This question occurred to me upon reading Onkelus on Bamidbar 27:11. Onkelus translates "hukat mishpat" there as "gzerat din". Is this a literal translation? It's clear that "mishpat" and "din" mean pretty much the same thing. But "hukah" and "gzerah" sound like different things. "Gzerah" sounds like a royal DECREE, a perhaps arbitrary new requirement instituted by the king. In contrast, "hukah" sounds like a normal LAW, a timeless and socially necessary feature of the legal system. But Onkelus equates the two. In this, Onkelus is following Chazal's position that "hok" means arbitrariness – similar to the word "gzerah". But what about the sources in which "hok" clearly means regularity, not arbitrariness?
After pondering this a little, I came up with a linguistic theory which justifies Onkelus' translation and reconciles the two understandings of the word "hok". The words "hok" and "gzerah" may be based on roots with the same meaning. "Gzerah" comes from the root g.z.r, meaning "to cut". Similarly, "hok" and "hukah" may come from the root h.k.k, meaning "to inscribe". Both words testify to how ancient kings instituted new laws: they would inscribe them on large stone tablets and place them in public areas. Eventually, it seems, the verb "to cut/inscribe" was extended to mean "to institute a law" in both Hebrew and Aramaic. The law being instituted could be quite arbitrary, like in Chazal's understanding of a "hok".
In the end, it seems there are two different meanings to the work "hok" or "hukah". One meaning, usually represented by "hukah", means the same thing as "gzerah", like in Onkelus and Chazal. Linguistically, this derives from the fact that historically royal decrees were inscribed on stone tablets. The other meaning, usually represented by "hok", means something periodic and regular. This meaning derives from the fact that things "inscribed in stone" are predictable and not susceptible to change. Those qualities apply to planetary movement (birkat halevana), and to certain periodic customs and rituals.
In summary, the action of inscription in stone is an appropriate metaphor for two very different kinds of situations. Confusion occurs if we assume that the word "hok" in a verse is a metaphor for one of the two situations, when it's actually a metaphor for the other situation.
Chazal, discussing Parah Adumah, have a very different understanding of the word. According to them, a "hok" is a commandment whose rationale we do not understand, unlike many other commandments (i.e. murder, theft) for which the justification is clear.
How can we reconcile the idea that "hok" means regularity with Chazal's idea that "hok" means arbitrariness?
This question occurred to me upon reading Onkelus on Bamidbar 27:11. Onkelus translates "hukat mishpat" there as "gzerat din". Is this a literal translation? It's clear that "mishpat" and "din" mean pretty much the same thing. But "hukah" and "gzerah" sound like different things. "Gzerah" sounds like a royal DECREE, a perhaps arbitrary new requirement instituted by the king. In contrast, "hukah" sounds like a normal LAW, a timeless and socially necessary feature of the legal system. But Onkelus equates the two. In this, Onkelus is following Chazal's position that "hok" means arbitrariness – similar to the word "gzerah". But what about the sources in which "hok" clearly means regularity, not arbitrariness?
After pondering this a little, I came up with a linguistic theory which justifies Onkelus' translation and reconciles the two understandings of the word "hok". The words "hok" and "gzerah" may be based on roots with the same meaning. "Gzerah" comes from the root g.z.r, meaning "to cut". Similarly, "hok" and "hukah" may come from the root h.k.k, meaning "to inscribe". Both words testify to how ancient kings instituted new laws: they would inscribe them on large stone tablets and place them in public areas. Eventually, it seems, the verb "to cut/inscribe" was extended to mean "to institute a law" in both Hebrew and Aramaic. The law being instituted could be quite arbitrary, like in Chazal's understanding of a "hok".
In the end, it seems there are two different meanings to the work "hok" or "hukah". One meaning, usually represented by "hukah", means the same thing as "gzerah", like in Onkelus and Chazal. Linguistically, this derives from the fact that historically royal decrees were inscribed on stone tablets. The other meaning, usually represented by "hok", means something periodic and regular. This meaning derives from the fact that things "inscribed in stone" are predictable and not susceptible to change. Those qualities apply to planetary movement (birkat halevana), and to certain periodic customs and rituals.
In summary, the action of inscription in stone is an appropriate metaphor for two very different kinds of situations. Confusion occurs if we assume that the word "hok" in a verse is a metaphor for one of the two situations, when it's actually a metaphor for the other situation.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
The incense column
"These are remembered negatively... the house of Avtinas, who did not want to teach about the incense. The Rabbis taught: The house of Avtinas was skilled in the preparing of incense, but its members were unwilling to teach [their method]. The Sages sent for workers from Alexandria [to replace them]. These [workers] could prepare the incense, but could not make it so that the smoke would not bend [as it rose]. The smoke of the incense prepared by the house of Avtinas rose straight, like a rod, and the smoke of the others' incense bent this way and that." (Yoma 38a)
"The ‘ma’aleh ashan’ [herb?] would [cause the smoke from the burning incense] to rise straight up like a staff…" (Yoma 53a).
These sources discuss the smoke issuing from incense burning in the Temple. We see from both sources that the smoke was supposed to rise in a perfectly straight column.
This incense column is NOT the same smoke that Pirkei Avot 5:5 says was miraculously never dispersed by the wind. That smoke was from animal sacrifices burning on the large outdoor altar. We are talking about smoke from incense burned inside the Temple, where there was no wind. There is no need to assume that the vertical rising of incense smoke is miraculous. In fact, I will now provide a purely natural explanation for it.
Examine the following photograph of burning incense. At first, the smoke rises in a smooth vertical column. Then, past a certain point, the column collapses into a bunch of turbulent swirls. This is a common phenomenon, which I have seen with incense sticks and cigarettes, as well as in this picture.

It seems to me that the gemara is talking about this kind of smoke column and swirls. Smoke naturally begins as a straight column, and past a certain point becomes turbulent. Depending on the type of incense, the turbulence could begin sooner or later. The rabbis desired incense whose turbulence was delayed, so that the smoke column remained vertical for as long as possible.
I asked my father, a physics professor, to explain why this phenomenon occurs. Here is his response, (with the "bottom line" highlighted, in case you don't have patience for the technical details).
So there you go. Now you, too, know how to make perfectly rising incense, like the house of Avtinas did. Well, at least you know which factors to experiment with until by luck or skill you get it right. As I learned when my roommate did a class project on gas engine combustion chamber designs, the precise analysis of burning is very complicated and sometimes not fully predictable even by modern science.
Why was it desired that the smoke column rise straight upward? Possible reasons include: 1) It was simply more aesthetically pleasing. 2) It was cleaner – smoke concentrated at the ceiling rather than filling the entire room. 3) It was symbolic of the incense going directly to God and not getting "stuck" on the way there. 4) The rabbis noticed the link between vertical rising and slow burning; wanting the incense to last longer, they wanted to see vertical rising as an indication of this.
Whatever the reason, it seems this goal was not trivial to achieve. According to the gemara, a particular substance ("ma'aleh ashan") had to be mixed into the incense. But just the presence of that substance was not sufficient, and expert preparation was needed as well. The House of Avtinas were the experts, and the rabbis tried unsuccessfully to break their monopoly on the correct method.
One final word on the column of smoke from the outdoor altar. Pirkei Avot says that this smoke rose vertically as well, miraculously, despite the wind. What was the point of this vertical rising? Explanations 1), 2) and 3) from the incense column would also seem to apply here, with minor changes. 1) A vertical column of smoke would be more attractive, and like a skyscraper more visible to people far from the Temple. (Compare this to Akedat Yitzchak, where in the midrash Avraham saw a cloud over Mt. Moriah before arriving. Maybe he was prophetically envisioning smoke from sacrifices there?) 2) Anyone who has made a bonfire knows how annoying it is to stand downwind from the fire and get smoke blown in your face. With a vertical column that would not happen. 3) The burning sacrifices are supposed to provide a pleasing odor" to God (Bamidbar 28:1 and other verses). If the smoke is blown horizontally, then it never goes up to the heavens, giving the impression that God is literally pushing the sacrifice to the side and rejecting it.
"The ‘ma’aleh ashan’ [herb?] would [cause the smoke from the burning incense] to rise straight up like a staff…" (Yoma 53a).
These sources discuss the smoke issuing from incense burning in the Temple. We see from both sources that the smoke was supposed to rise in a perfectly straight column.
This incense column is NOT the same smoke that Pirkei Avot 5:5 says was miraculously never dispersed by the wind. That smoke was from animal sacrifices burning on the large outdoor altar. We are talking about smoke from incense burned inside the Temple, where there was no wind. There is no need to assume that the vertical rising of incense smoke is miraculous. In fact, I will now provide a purely natural explanation for it.
Examine the following photograph of burning incense. At first, the smoke rises in a smooth vertical column. Then, past a certain point, the column collapses into a bunch of turbulent swirls. This is a common phenomenon, which I have seen with incense sticks and cigarettes, as well as in this picture.
It seems to me that the gemara is talking about this kind of smoke column and swirls. Smoke naturally begins as a straight column, and past a certain point becomes turbulent. Depending on the type of incense, the turbulence could begin sooner or later. The rabbis desired incense whose turbulence was delayed, so that the smoke column remained vertical for as long as possible.
I asked my father, a physics professor, to explain why this phenomenon occurs. Here is his response, (with the "bottom line" highlighted, in case you don't have patience for the technical details).
The rising column of hot air is unstable to shear instability (the simplest shear instability is Kelvin-Helmholtz instability that occurs between two half-spaces with relative velocity parallel to their boundary) that develops into turbulence. This can be stabilized by viscosity or density stratification (the latter is relevant to Kelvin-Helmholtz in the atmosphere, ocean, etc., but not to a rising column of hot air).
If the rise is slow and the column thin, viscosity will be more effective in stabilizing the flow. Very slow burning will then tend to produce a steady column. The burning rate will depend on how finely the incense is ground, what it is made of, moisture content, degree of packing, etc. The trick is to slow the burning without making it extinguish itself.
So there you go. Now you, too, know how to make perfectly rising incense, like the house of Avtinas did. Well, at least you know which factors to experiment with until by luck or skill you get it right. As I learned when my roommate did a class project on gas engine combustion chamber designs, the precise analysis of burning is very complicated and sometimes not fully predictable even by modern science.
Why was it desired that the smoke column rise straight upward? Possible reasons include: 1) It was simply more aesthetically pleasing. 2) It was cleaner – smoke concentrated at the ceiling rather than filling the entire room. 3) It was symbolic of the incense going directly to God and not getting "stuck" on the way there. 4) The rabbis noticed the link between vertical rising and slow burning; wanting the incense to last longer, they wanted to see vertical rising as an indication of this.
Whatever the reason, it seems this goal was not trivial to achieve. According to the gemara, a particular substance ("ma'aleh ashan") had to be mixed into the incense. But just the presence of that substance was not sufficient, and expert preparation was needed as well. The House of Avtinas were the experts, and the rabbis tried unsuccessfully to break their monopoly on the correct method.
One final word on the column of smoke from the outdoor altar. Pirkei Avot says that this smoke rose vertically as well, miraculously, despite the wind. What was the point of this vertical rising? Explanations 1), 2) and 3) from the incense column would also seem to apply here, with minor changes. 1) A vertical column of smoke would be more attractive, and like a skyscraper more visible to people far from the Temple. (Compare this to Akedat Yitzchak, where in the midrash Avraham saw a cloud over Mt. Moriah before arriving. Maybe he was prophetically envisioning smoke from sacrifices there?) 2) Anyone who has made a bonfire knows how annoying it is to stand downwind from the fire and get smoke blown in your face. With a vertical column that would not happen. 3) The burning sacrifices are supposed to provide a pleasing odor" to God (Bamidbar 28:1 and other verses). If the smoke is blown horizontally, then it never goes up to the heavens, giving the impression that God is literally pushing the sacrifice to the side and rejecting it.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Hilchot Mundial
הלכות מונדיאל
גיל סלוביק
1. נהגו אומות העולם להיאבק זו בזו מדי ד' שנים בכיבוש שערים עד אשר יימצא זה אשר הגביע בידו, כדכתיב: ובשנה הרביעית יהיה לכדור קודש הילולים למונדיאל. וכיוון שהכיבוש משחית הוא, נוהגים ישראל להחמיר ולא לכבוש שערים כלל, ותחת להתחרות במונדיאל, מסתפקים בצפייה בו, בבחינת אותו תראה ושמה לא תשחק.
2. מצוות הצפייה במונדיאל מצוות עשה שהזמן גרמא היא, ועל כן נוהגת בגברים בלבד, וטוב שיתכוון הגבר להוציא אשתו מהבית בזמן המשחק.
3. יש לצאת בכל תוקף כנגד אותן נשים שעושות עצמן כמתעניינות בכדורגל, ותחת להניח לנפשם של הגברים, מציקות הן בקושיות סבוכות על חוקי המשחק בדיוק כשמסי פורץ לרחבה, וידוע מאמר חז"ל כי המלמד את אשתו כדורגל כאילו מלמדה תיפלות, שהוא מלמדה פרק בהלכות נבדל והיא שואלתו על שום מה נבדלים צבעי מדי הנבחרות אלה מאלה, ואינה מכירה בין תכלת של ארגנטינה ללבן של אנגליה.
4. נתייחדה מצוות הצפייה במונדיאל, שעל אף שמצוות עשה היא, יש בה משום שב ואל תעשה, שדי לו לאדם שירבץ בכורסתו אל מול המסך כדי לקיים המצווה. וכיוון שחביבות מצוות על ישראל נהגו להוסיף למצוות הרביצה גם פיצוח גרעינים קליות ואגוזים, לגימת בירה ומתן הוראות לשחקנים, ומתפללים שייעשה להם נס וישמעו השחקנים את הוראותיהם דרך המסך.
5. אין צופין במונדיאל אלא בחבורה, וממנים את הקטן שביניהם לסינג'ור והוא המוציא והמביא להם בירות מן המקרר, ומי שצופה לבדו אין לו חלק לעולם הבא וסופו שמפספס כל הגולים כשמביא בעצמו הבירה. בשעת הדחק יש להתיר לצפות ביחיד, אולם העושה כן יקפיד להתקשר מדי ח"י רגעים לחבריו כדי לשאול: "ראית את זה???".
6. מאימתי צופין? משלב הבתים ועד לגמר. ויש אומרים: משלב הבתים ועד שלב הרס הבתים, כשנוטשת אשתו את הבית ועוברת לגור אצל אמה. במקצת קהילות נהגו לצפות במשחקי הנוקאאוט בלבד, ולא טוב הם עושים, שככל שמתקדם המונדיאל הולכים ומשתעממים משחקיו, שרעדה אוחזת ברגלי השחקנים ותחת להיות כגיבורים הכובשים את גוליהם, עומדים הם כחומה בצורה ואין מבקיעין כלל (בונקער בלע"ז).
7. אין צופין במונדיאל לא מתוך שחוק ולא מתוך קלות ראש אלא מתוך כורסה של מצווה, וטוב שיכוון ליבו למשחק, יבטל עצמו כליל, ולא יתיק עיניו מהמסך לא ימין ולא שמאל, שאם לא כן עובר ב"לא תתורו". הנצרך לנקביו באמצע משחק טוב שיתאפק וימתין למחצית עת מלהגגים הפרשנים במילתא דבדיחותא וזורקים זה לזה קלישאות קלישאות חבוטות חבוטות.
8. משנתרתקו הגברים לכורסאותיהם ואינם נעים ואינם זעים מהן, יוצאות הנשים לפזז ולכרכר בקעניונים, בלא גברים שידחקו בהן לסיים השופינג, ומנהג זה הוא בבחינת זה נהנה שאשתו לא בבית וזה חסר בחשבון הבנק. ומכל מקום טוב שתקפיד האשה על קיום הלכות שופינג בכל דקדוקיהן ופרטיהן ותרי"ג שקיות התלויות בהן.
9. תחילה נהגו ישראל להתחלק בין אוהדי ברזיל, אנגליה והולנד (אחינו הכתומים). משנתמרמרו כל צבועי העולם על המרמריס, ונמצאו כל אומות העולם שונאות לישראל, אין זה חשוב את מי יאהד, ובלבד שינקוט צד מבעוד מועד וידבק בו, שלא יהיה כפוסח על שתי הסעיפים מדי משחק.
10. ר' כילי אומר: כל המסכים כשרים לצפייה, אפילו מסך שפופרת יד' אינץ' מתקופת האנטימחיקון התחתון. ר' סקאל אומר: לא יפחת ממסך מהודר עשוי פלעזמה בגודל לב' אינץ', שאותיות HD כסופות חקוקות בחזיתו. מנהג המפרסמים ליפות סחורתם ולהכתירה בשלל תכונות הכתובות בצופן עשויה צירופי אותיות משונים, ובמיוחד נהגו להרבות במספר היציאות שבגב המסך, כדכתיב: יציאות המסך שתיים שהן ארבע. ועוד נהגו לפרסם את ניגודיות המסך, ולא ידעתי עניין הניגודיות מהו עד שהתנגדה אשתי שאקנה המסך.
11. שלושים יום לפני המונדיאל מעלין את מחירי כורסאות הטלוויזיה, המסכים, ושאר תשמישי הקדושה של המונדיאל, ברמ"ח אחוזים, כדי להורידם לאחר מכן במבצע של "עד 50%". מנהג נאה נהגו לכתוב את ה "50%" באותיות קידוש לבנה בגודל 42 אינץ', ואת ה"עד" באותיות טל ומטר בגודל מחצית האינץ' בלבד. ייזהר הציבור מאוד מרכישת אותם מסכים המפארים עצמם כ"מותג מוכר" ונמכרים במחצית מדמיהם של מסכים בעלי יחוס, שחזקה היא שאם היה המותג מוכר למישהו מלבד לזה המוכרו, הרי שהיו מפרסמים את שמו.
12. שבת הקודמת לפרוץ המונדיאל היא שבת הגדול, ונהגו לפרסם בה מוספי ספורט מגודלים הסוקרים כל אחד ואחד מאחד-עשר כוכביא של נבחרות העולם, ועושין מי שברך לפצועים. גדולי פרשני הדור עוסקים במלאכת הניחוש, וכל נבחרות העולם עוברות לפניהם כבני מרון, וכותבים את גזר דינן: מי תעלה ומי תודח, מי בנגיחה ומי בבעיטה, מי בפנדלים ומי בשער זהב, וסופם שנמצאים ניחושיהם כחרס הנשבר וכצל עובר וכחלום בלהות יעוף.
13. מצווה מן המובחר שלא לשחק במונדיאל בכדור שרגילין לשחק בו בשאר ימות השנה, אלא לייחד מבעוד מועד
כדור חדש שלא עלה עליו עול, ורגל אדם לא בעטה בו, בבחינת וישן מפני חדש תוציאו. על כן נהגו גדולי ישיבת ההנהלה של אדידעס לברוא מדי מונדיאל, יש מאין, כדור חדש בתכלית החידוש (ג'אבולעני בלע"ז), ובכל מקום שדבר הכדור החדש מגיע אבל גדול לכדורגלנים ומתבכיינים בקול גדול, וטוענים שגדולי אדידעס שמים עליהם שלושה פסים.
14. מודים אנו לקב"ה ששם חלקנו מהבועטים נעלי הבית כשיושבין על הכורסא ולא שם חלקנו מבועטי קרנות. שאנו משכימים לצפות במשחק של צפון הונדורס נגד דרום ניגריה, והם משכימים לעוד אימון כושר, אנו רצים למקרר להביא עוד בירה, והם רצים כמשוגעים אחר הכדור, אנו עמלים לפצח הפיסטוקים והם עמלים לפצח ההגנה של היריב.
15. מייד כשיסתיים משחק הגמר, יכבה את הפלעזמה, יקום מכורסתו, ינער היטב קליפות הפיסטוקים, ויאמר: יהי רצון שכשם שזכינו לצפות במונדיאל זה, כן נזכה לשחק במונדיאל הבא בכדור מעורו של לוייתן.
גיל סלוביק
1. נהגו אומות העולם להיאבק זו בזו מדי ד' שנים בכיבוש שערים עד אשר יימצא זה אשר הגביע בידו, כדכתיב: ובשנה הרביעית יהיה לכדור קודש הילולים למונדיאל. וכיוון שהכיבוש משחית הוא, נוהגים ישראל להחמיר ולא לכבוש שערים כלל, ותחת להתחרות במונדיאל, מסתפקים בצפייה בו, בבחינת אותו תראה ושמה לא תשחק.
2. מצוות הצפייה במונדיאל מצוות עשה שהזמן גרמא היא, ועל כן נוהגת בגברים בלבד, וטוב שיתכוון הגבר להוציא אשתו מהבית בזמן המשחק.
3. יש לצאת בכל תוקף כנגד אותן נשים שעושות עצמן כמתעניינות בכדורגל, ותחת להניח לנפשם של הגברים, מציקות הן בקושיות סבוכות על חוקי המשחק בדיוק כשמסי פורץ לרחבה, וידוע מאמר חז"ל כי המלמד את אשתו כדורגל כאילו מלמדה תיפלות, שהוא מלמדה פרק בהלכות נבדל והיא שואלתו על שום מה נבדלים צבעי מדי הנבחרות אלה מאלה, ואינה מכירה בין תכלת של ארגנטינה ללבן של אנגליה.
4. נתייחדה מצוות הצפייה במונדיאל, שעל אף שמצוות עשה היא, יש בה משום שב ואל תעשה, שדי לו לאדם שירבץ בכורסתו אל מול המסך כדי לקיים המצווה. וכיוון שחביבות מצוות על ישראל נהגו להוסיף למצוות הרביצה גם פיצוח גרעינים קליות ואגוזים, לגימת בירה ומתן הוראות לשחקנים, ומתפללים שייעשה להם נס וישמעו השחקנים את הוראותיהם דרך המסך.
5. אין צופין במונדיאל אלא בחבורה, וממנים את הקטן שביניהם לסינג'ור והוא המוציא והמביא להם בירות מן המקרר, ומי שצופה לבדו אין לו חלק לעולם הבא וסופו שמפספס כל הגולים כשמביא בעצמו הבירה. בשעת הדחק יש להתיר לצפות ביחיד, אולם העושה כן יקפיד להתקשר מדי ח"י רגעים לחבריו כדי לשאול: "ראית את זה???".
6. מאימתי צופין? משלב הבתים ועד לגמר. ויש אומרים: משלב הבתים ועד שלב הרס הבתים, כשנוטשת אשתו את הבית ועוברת לגור אצל אמה. במקצת קהילות נהגו לצפות במשחקי הנוקאאוט בלבד, ולא טוב הם עושים, שככל שמתקדם המונדיאל הולכים ומשתעממים משחקיו, שרעדה אוחזת ברגלי השחקנים ותחת להיות כגיבורים הכובשים את גוליהם, עומדים הם כחומה בצורה ואין מבקיעין כלל (בונקער בלע"ז).
7. אין צופין במונדיאל לא מתוך שחוק ולא מתוך קלות ראש אלא מתוך כורסה של מצווה, וטוב שיכוון ליבו למשחק, יבטל עצמו כליל, ולא יתיק עיניו מהמסך לא ימין ולא שמאל, שאם לא כן עובר ב"לא תתורו". הנצרך לנקביו באמצע משחק טוב שיתאפק וימתין למחצית עת מלהגגים הפרשנים במילתא דבדיחותא וזורקים זה לזה קלישאות קלישאות חבוטות חבוטות.
8. משנתרתקו הגברים לכורסאותיהם ואינם נעים ואינם זעים מהן, יוצאות הנשים לפזז ולכרכר בקעניונים, בלא גברים שידחקו בהן לסיים השופינג, ומנהג זה הוא בבחינת זה נהנה שאשתו לא בבית וזה חסר בחשבון הבנק. ומכל מקום טוב שתקפיד האשה על קיום הלכות שופינג בכל דקדוקיהן ופרטיהן ותרי"ג שקיות התלויות בהן.
9. תחילה נהגו ישראל להתחלק בין אוהדי ברזיל, אנגליה והולנד (אחינו הכתומים). משנתמרמרו כל צבועי העולם על המרמריס, ונמצאו כל אומות העולם שונאות לישראל, אין זה חשוב את מי יאהד, ובלבד שינקוט צד מבעוד מועד וידבק בו, שלא יהיה כפוסח על שתי הסעיפים מדי משחק.
10. ר' כילי אומר: כל המסכים כשרים לצפייה, אפילו מסך שפופרת יד' אינץ' מתקופת האנטימחיקון התחתון. ר' סקאל אומר: לא יפחת ממסך מהודר עשוי פלעזמה בגודל לב' אינץ', שאותיות HD כסופות חקוקות בחזיתו. מנהג המפרסמים ליפות סחורתם ולהכתירה בשלל תכונות הכתובות בצופן עשויה צירופי אותיות משונים, ובמיוחד נהגו להרבות במספר היציאות שבגב המסך, כדכתיב: יציאות המסך שתיים שהן ארבע. ועוד נהגו לפרסם את ניגודיות המסך, ולא ידעתי עניין הניגודיות מהו עד שהתנגדה אשתי שאקנה המסך.
11. שלושים יום לפני המונדיאל מעלין את מחירי כורסאות הטלוויזיה, המסכים, ושאר תשמישי הקדושה של המונדיאל, ברמ"ח אחוזים, כדי להורידם לאחר מכן במבצע של "עד 50%". מנהג נאה נהגו לכתוב את ה "50%" באותיות קידוש לבנה בגודל 42 אינץ', ואת ה"עד" באותיות טל ומטר בגודל מחצית האינץ' בלבד. ייזהר הציבור מאוד מרכישת אותם מסכים המפארים עצמם כ"מותג מוכר" ונמכרים במחצית מדמיהם של מסכים בעלי יחוס, שחזקה היא שאם היה המותג מוכר למישהו מלבד לזה המוכרו, הרי שהיו מפרסמים את שמו.
12. שבת הקודמת לפרוץ המונדיאל היא שבת הגדול, ונהגו לפרסם בה מוספי ספורט מגודלים הסוקרים כל אחד ואחד מאחד-עשר כוכביא של נבחרות העולם, ועושין מי שברך לפצועים. גדולי פרשני הדור עוסקים במלאכת הניחוש, וכל נבחרות העולם עוברות לפניהם כבני מרון, וכותבים את גזר דינן: מי תעלה ומי תודח, מי בנגיחה ומי בבעיטה, מי בפנדלים ומי בשער זהב, וסופם שנמצאים ניחושיהם כחרס הנשבר וכצל עובר וכחלום בלהות יעוף.
13. מצווה מן המובחר שלא לשחק במונדיאל בכדור שרגילין לשחק בו בשאר ימות השנה, אלא לייחד מבעוד מועד
כדור חדש שלא עלה עליו עול, ורגל אדם לא בעטה בו, בבחינת וישן מפני חדש תוציאו. על כן נהגו גדולי ישיבת ההנהלה של אדידעס לברוא מדי מונדיאל, יש מאין, כדור חדש בתכלית החידוש (ג'אבולעני בלע"ז), ובכל מקום שדבר הכדור החדש מגיע אבל גדול לכדורגלנים ומתבכיינים בקול גדול, וטוענים שגדולי אדידעס שמים עליהם שלושה פסים.
14. מודים אנו לקב"ה ששם חלקנו מהבועטים נעלי הבית כשיושבין על הכורסא ולא שם חלקנו מבועטי קרנות. שאנו משכימים לצפות במשחק של צפון הונדורס נגד דרום ניגריה, והם משכימים לעוד אימון כושר, אנו רצים למקרר להביא עוד בירה, והם רצים כמשוגעים אחר הכדור, אנו עמלים לפצח הפיסטוקים והם עמלים לפצח ההגנה של היריב.
15. מייד כשיסתיים משחק הגמר, יכבה את הפלעזמה, יקום מכורסתו, ינער היטב קליפות הפיסטוקים, ויאמר: יהי רצון שכשם שזכינו לצפות במונדיאל זה, כן נזכה לשחק במונדיאל הבא בכדור מעורו של לוייתן.
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Wednesday, June 09, 2010
How much is a pruta?
The halachic pruta is equivalent to the value of 0.022 grams of silver. (0.025 grams according to a different opinion). (Source)
0.022 grams = 0.000776 ounces (Source)
0.000776 ounces silver = 5.5 agorot (Source)
0.000776 ounces silver = 1.4 cents (Source)
The price of silver, and thus the value of a pruta, may change with time. You should always be able to re-click the last two links to get an updated figure.
This was on my mind because of its relevance for maaser sheni.
0.022 grams = 0.000776 ounces (Source)
0.000776 ounces silver = 5.5 agorot (Source)
0.000776 ounces silver = 1.4 cents (Source)
The price of silver, and thus the value of a pruta, may change with time. You should always be able to re-click the last two links to get an updated figure.
This was on my mind because of its relevance for maaser sheni.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Timtum halev
Do not make yourselves disgusting through all the swarming creatures, and do not make yourself impure through them, venitmetem (ונטמתם) through them. (Vayikra 11:43)
What does “venitmetem” mean? The most obvious explanation is that it means “and you shall become impure”, being derived from the word “tamei”. That fits well with the theme of impurity which is a central aspect of the kosher-animal chapter, though it does seem redundant, since impurity was already mentioned in the previous phrase. (The problem with this explanation is that “tamei” has the letter alef in it, and “venitmetem” does not. However, there are cases in Tanach where an alef disappears from the spelling of a word, since it is not pronounced. This could be another such case.)
Ibn Ezra on the verse cites the above explanation, but then brings an alternative. “Some say they [tamei, venitmetem] are two different roots, as in [נטמינו בעיניכם], its meaning being, like a person who does not have wisdom.” If so, then the verse should be translated: “...and do not make yourself impure through them, and become foolish through them.”
This grammatical understanding may be the “pshat” basis for the idea of “timtum halev”. As for what the idea actually means, well, that's beyond the scope of this post. But you can find an interesting discussion here.
What does “venitmetem” mean? The most obvious explanation is that it means “and you shall become impure”, being derived from the word “tamei”. That fits well with the theme of impurity which is a central aspect of the kosher-animal chapter, though it does seem redundant, since impurity was already mentioned in the previous phrase. (The problem with this explanation is that “tamei” has the letter alef in it, and “venitmetem” does not. However, there are cases in Tanach where an alef disappears from the spelling of a word, since it is not pronounced. This could be another such case.)
Ibn Ezra on the verse cites the above explanation, but then brings an alternative. “Some say they [tamei, venitmetem] are two different roots, as in [נטמינו בעיניכם], its meaning being, like a person who does not have wisdom.” If so, then the verse should be translated: “...and do not make yourself impure through them, and become foolish through them.”
This grammatical understanding may be the “pshat” basis for the idea of “timtum halev”. As for what the idea actually means, well, that's beyond the scope of this post. But you can find an interesting discussion here.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Zachor and Shamor
The Ten Commandments appear twice in the Torah, in Shemot and Devarim. One of the most notable differences between the two appearances is in the 4th command, regarding Shabbat. In Shemot the command is introduced by the word Zachor ("Remember the Sabbath"), while in Devarim it is introduced by Shamor ("Guard the Sabbath").
Why do these two different verbs appear in what one would expect to be identical texts? Ibn Ezra (in Shemot) provides one, rather radical answer. He says that the Torah's text is reliable in terms of its ideas, but not in its wording. He also says that the words "zachor" and "shamor" have the same meaning. (After all, what does it mean to "remember", other than to "guard" a thought in your mind?) Thus, it doesn't matter which of the two words the Torah uses. One of the words is "wrong" in that God didn't actually say that word at Sinai. But because the written Torah only cares about meaning and not wording, that discrepancy is unimportant.
That is quite an interesting theory, but it is not the mainstream one taken by Chazal and later Jewish thought. The mainstream approach, immortalized in the song Lecha Dodi, is "Shamor vezachor bedibur echad". That is, the words Shamor and Zachor convey different meanings, and somehow both meanings were conveyed at Sinai. Furthermore, the meaning of each word can be identified. Zachor refers to the positive mitzvot of Shabbat, while Shamor refers to the negative ones.
I think we can explain clearly the reasons for this identification, as follows.
How do we know that Zachor refers to positive mitzvot? I suspect we can derive this by looking at cases in which the verb "lizkor" is used regarding God. For example, God remembers a covenant, remembers a barren woman, and so on. If a person remembers something, it is because they previously forgotten it. We cannot use the same interpretation regarding God. Rather, God was always conscious of the covenant and the barren woman. But only at this moment did God take action regarding them. Thus, to "remember" implies action, and by extension, the performance of positive commandments.
How do we know that Shamor refers to negative mitzvot? The answer comes from Vayikra 18:30, which states regarding the sexual prohibitions: "You shall guard my guard, to not do the abominable practices that were done [by the people living in Canaan] before you, and you shall not become impure through them, I am Hashem your God." Thus, to "guard the guard" means to "not do" - to avoid certain actions. In effect it means to guard yourself, to prevent yourself from doing certain things. This usage is extended to "Shamor et yom hashabbat", implying that one not do the actions which are prohibited on Shabbat.
Why do these two different verbs appear in what one would expect to be identical texts? Ibn Ezra (in Shemot) provides one, rather radical answer. He says that the Torah's text is reliable in terms of its ideas, but not in its wording. He also says that the words "zachor" and "shamor" have the same meaning. (After all, what does it mean to "remember", other than to "guard" a thought in your mind?) Thus, it doesn't matter which of the two words the Torah uses. One of the words is "wrong" in that God didn't actually say that word at Sinai. But because the written Torah only cares about meaning and not wording, that discrepancy is unimportant.
That is quite an interesting theory, but it is not the mainstream one taken by Chazal and later Jewish thought. The mainstream approach, immortalized in the song Lecha Dodi, is "Shamor vezachor bedibur echad". That is, the words Shamor and Zachor convey different meanings, and somehow both meanings were conveyed at Sinai. Furthermore, the meaning of each word can be identified. Zachor refers to the positive mitzvot of Shabbat, while Shamor refers to the negative ones.
I think we can explain clearly the reasons for this identification, as follows.
How do we know that Zachor refers to positive mitzvot? I suspect we can derive this by looking at cases in which the verb "lizkor" is used regarding God. For example, God remembers a covenant, remembers a barren woman, and so on. If a person remembers something, it is because they previously forgotten it. We cannot use the same interpretation regarding God. Rather, God was always conscious of the covenant and the barren woman. But only at this moment did God take action regarding them. Thus, to "remember" implies action, and by extension, the performance of positive commandments.
How do we know that Shamor refers to negative mitzvot? The answer comes from Vayikra 18:30, which states regarding the sexual prohibitions: "You shall guard my guard, to not do the abominable practices that were done [by the people living in Canaan] before you, and you shall not become impure through them, I am Hashem your God." Thus, to "guard the guard" means to "not do" - to avoid certain actions. In effect it means to guard yourself, to prevent yourself from doing certain things. This usage is extended to "Shamor et yom hashabbat", implying that one not do the actions which are prohibited on Shabbat.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Bedikat chametz
The mitzvah of checking for chametz occurs on the evening before Pesach. I can't find the source now (erev Pesach and I'm in a hurry), but my recollection is that the reason for checking at night by candlelight, rather than during the day, is that it is easier to find chametz at night than during the day.
This seems totally counterintuitive. Obviously, you would think, you can see better during the day so checking should be done then. Isn't it totally backwards to think you could see better at night?
I think the reasoning goes as follows. Nowadays we have two things that ancient people did not: modern building techniques and electricity. Once upon a time most people lived in closely spaced stone huts with small if any windows. Thus, most of their indoor areas were necessarily rather dark. Without electricity, the only way of lighting these areas was with candles.
So checking for chametz by candlelight made perfect sense: it meant using the most efficient possible indoor lighting. But why at nighttime? If most indoor areas received little light from outside, daylight would do little to help the checking. But it would interfere with checking, for the following reason. People's eyesight adjusts to the amount of light they perceive, and even a person who did bedikat chametz inside would probably go outside the building every so often. Upon reentering the home, everything would appear dark even with the available indoor lighting. But at night, it would be just as dark outside as inside. People could check the corners of their houses in the most effective way – with all the available indoor lighting (candles), and with the sensitivity in vision that was unavailable during the day.
This seems totally counterintuitive. Obviously, you would think, you can see better during the day so checking should be done then. Isn't it totally backwards to think you could see better at night?
I think the reasoning goes as follows. Nowadays we have two things that ancient people did not: modern building techniques and electricity. Once upon a time most people lived in closely spaced stone huts with small if any windows. Thus, most of their indoor areas were necessarily rather dark. Without electricity, the only way of lighting these areas was with candles.
So checking for chametz by candlelight made perfect sense: it meant using the most efficient possible indoor lighting. But why at nighttime? If most indoor areas received little light from outside, daylight would do little to help the checking. But it would interfere with checking, for the following reason. People's eyesight adjusts to the amount of light they perceive, and even a person who did bedikat chametz inside would probably go outside the building every so often. Upon reentering the home, everything would appear dark even with the available indoor lighting. But at night, it would be just as dark outside as inside. People could check the corners of their houses in the most effective way – with all the available indoor lighting (candles), and with the sensitivity in vision that was unavailable during the day.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Brit Milah and reproduction
(Disclaimer: For a blog that supposedly represents the “beis”, this blog contains very frequent references to sex. It is tempting to ascribe this to the fact that I'm a single male, and thus think about these things all the time (Kiddushin 29b). But I prefer to ascribe this to the fact that sex, in the right circumstances, is an unavoidably important part of life. Most of the stories in Tanach are about sex or death, because those situations bring out the strongest emotions and present us with the hardest moral choices. It is natural, then, that many of the divrei Torah worth writing about should involve sex as well. The topic must of course be addressed with sufficient decency and reserve, but I try to do that, and hopefully I succeed.)
“I am El Shaddai: walk before me and be wholesome. I shall place my covenant between me and you, and I will make you very very numerous. As for me, behold my covenant is with you, and you shall be the father of many nations. Your name shall no longer be called Avram; your name shall be Avraham, for I have made you the father of many nations. I shall make you very very fruitful, and make you into peoples, and kings will descend from you. I shall uphold my covenant between me and you and your offspring forever after you, as an eternal covenant – to be God to you and your offspring after you. I shall give you and your offspring after you the land of your dwelling, all the land of Canaan, as an eternal inheritance, and I shall be their God.” (Breishit 17:1-8)
In these verses, the introduction to the covenant of “brit milah” which God makes with Avraham, the main focus is on offspring – how many there will be and how many nations they will become. To make this more concrete, the birth of Yitzchak (the first such offspring) is foretold. Later on, it is stated that the punishment for breaking the covenant (by not being circumcised) is “karet” - being “cut off” from your people. According to one prominent explanation, this means the end of one's family tree due to lack of descendants. If so, this is a fitting punishment, the exact reversal of the reward of having many descendants.
Why is circumcision the sign of this covenant? The obvious answer is that circumcision involves the sexual organ, and thus represents the covenant's focus on reproduction. But this answer is insufficient. Surely there are other, less violent, ways of symbolizing reproduction. Why must the symbolism be achieved by cutting off part of the body, even a useless part?
Perhaps the following comparison will help illustrate why. Circumcision consists of the removal of a piece of skin or a membrane from the surface of the male genitals. Women, too, possess a membrane on the surface of their genitals. It too is removed at some point in their lives, stereotypically, when they begin married life. The removal is a necessary condition for them to become pregnant and have children. Perhaps male circumcision is meant to parallel this change in the woman's body. Just as the woman's genitals must be exposed before a couple can have offspring, so too the man's genitals be exposed.
Of course, there is a difference between the modifications. Rupture of the hymen is a natural process, and is a physical prerequisite for pregnancy and birth. Circumcision, in contrast, does not benefit for the reproductive process (on the contrary, it somewhat resembles castration, which prevents reproduction). But for a believing Jew circumcision is equally a prerequisite to birth, since in return for it God rewards us with offspring. The foreskin is a spiritual “impediment” to birth, just like the physical impediment in the woman's body. Removing both “impediments” demonstrates our faith in God's control of the world: that it is run by reward and punishment, not only by deterministic natural processes.
Midrash Tanhuma (Tazria) tells the story of a Roman who asked Rabbi Akiva whether circumcision did not contradict the idea that things made by God are perfect, and thus in no need of human improvement. R' Akiva replied with the example of bread: a loaf of bread is surely superior to wheat kernels, but God only made the kernels, and left us to finish the job by grinding flour and baking bread. Similarly, God made the human body, but left the final job of perfecting the body to us.
The midrash speaks of the male body, but its message applies equally to the female body. When human beings have children, we participate in creation just as God originally did. This is one of the most significant and Godly moments of our lives. As the Torah views it, both male and female bodies need perfecting before this can occur.
“I am El Shaddai: walk before me and be wholesome. I shall place my covenant between me and you, and I will make you very very numerous. As for me, behold my covenant is with you, and you shall be the father of many nations. Your name shall no longer be called Avram; your name shall be Avraham, for I have made you the father of many nations. I shall make you very very fruitful, and make you into peoples, and kings will descend from you. I shall uphold my covenant between me and you and your offspring forever after you, as an eternal covenant – to be God to you and your offspring after you. I shall give you and your offspring after you the land of your dwelling, all the land of Canaan, as an eternal inheritance, and I shall be their God.” (Breishit 17:1-8)
In these verses, the introduction to the covenant of “brit milah” which God makes with Avraham, the main focus is on offspring – how many there will be and how many nations they will become. To make this more concrete, the birth of Yitzchak (the first such offspring) is foretold. Later on, it is stated that the punishment for breaking the covenant (by not being circumcised) is “karet” - being “cut off” from your people. According to one prominent explanation, this means the end of one's family tree due to lack of descendants. If so, this is a fitting punishment, the exact reversal of the reward of having many descendants.
Why is circumcision the sign of this covenant? The obvious answer is that circumcision involves the sexual organ, and thus represents the covenant's focus on reproduction. But this answer is insufficient. Surely there are other, less violent, ways of symbolizing reproduction. Why must the symbolism be achieved by cutting off part of the body, even a useless part?
Perhaps the following comparison will help illustrate why. Circumcision consists of the removal of a piece of skin or a membrane from the surface of the male genitals. Women, too, possess a membrane on the surface of their genitals. It too is removed at some point in their lives, stereotypically, when they begin married life. The removal is a necessary condition for them to become pregnant and have children. Perhaps male circumcision is meant to parallel this change in the woman's body. Just as the woman's genitals must be exposed before a couple can have offspring, so too the man's genitals be exposed.
Of course, there is a difference between the modifications. Rupture of the hymen is a natural process, and is a physical prerequisite for pregnancy and birth. Circumcision, in contrast, does not benefit for the reproductive process (on the contrary, it somewhat resembles castration, which prevents reproduction). But for a believing Jew circumcision is equally a prerequisite to birth, since in return for it God rewards us with offspring. The foreskin is a spiritual “impediment” to birth, just like the physical impediment in the woman's body. Removing both “impediments” demonstrates our faith in God's control of the world: that it is run by reward and punishment, not only by deterministic natural processes.
Midrash Tanhuma (Tazria) tells the story of a Roman who asked Rabbi Akiva whether circumcision did not contradict the idea that things made by God are perfect, and thus in no need of human improvement. R' Akiva replied with the example of bread: a loaf of bread is surely superior to wheat kernels, but God only made the kernels, and left us to finish the job by grinding flour and baking bread. Similarly, God made the human body, but left the final job of perfecting the body to us.
The midrash speaks of the male body, but its message applies equally to the female body. When human beings have children, we participate in creation just as God originally did. This is one of the most significant and Godly moments of our lives. As the Torah views it, both male and female bodies need perfecting before this can occur.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Moshe's leadership qualifications
The Rambam (Hilchot Melachim 4:10) says that "one does not appoint a king except to perform judgment and war".
Moshe did two things before being forced to flee Egypt. He killed the Egyptian, thereby protecting the Jew who was under attack. The next day, he tried to resolve a conflict which had developed between two Jews.
By fighting back against Egyptian oppression, and trying to obtain justice between Jews, Moshe performed both of the tasks expected of Jewish kings. No wonder he was chosen as Israel's future leader.
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Source: R' Yuval Sherlo in Tzohar LeShabat for this week, parshat Vaera
Moshe did two things before being forced to flee Egypt. He killed the Egyptian, thereby protecting the Jew who was under attack. The next day, he tried to resolve a conflict which had developed between two Jews.
By fighting back against Egyptian oppression, and trying to obtain justice between Jews, Moshe performed both of the tasks expected of Jewish kings. No wonder he was chosen as Israel's future leader.
-----------
Source: R' Yuval Sherlo in Tzohar LeShabat for this week, parshat Vaera
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Jerusalem and birkat hamazon
אמר רב יוסף תדע דהטוב והמטיב לאו דאורייתא שהרי פועלים עוקרים אותה
R' Yosef says (Brachot 46a) that the fourth blessing of birkat hamazon, “Hatov vehametiv”, must be rabbinic rather than required by the Torah. His argument is that all-day workers (who must not waste time while “on the clock”) omit this blessing from after their meals, and if the Torah required it, it could not be omitted even in this situation. After this, the gemara brings several other, similar, proofs why “Hatov vehametiv” is rabbinic.
The implication of all this is that all three of the previous blessings are from the Torah. This is hard to understand. In particular, the third blessing is about the rebuilding of Jerusalem. Jerusalem did not become the site of the Temple or national capital until hundreds of years after the Torah was given. For most of the interim period, the city Shiloh played the role we associate with Jerusalem. So how can the Torah require us to recite the blessing this way?
Let us look at the Torah's source for birkat hamazon, and see where each of the three blessings can possibly come from.
“You shall eat, and be sated, and bless Hashem you God for the good land which He has given you.” (Devarim 8:10)
The second blessing is easiest to justify. It is about the land, and we are explicitly told to thank God for the land.
The first blessing is about food. We are not told explicitly to bless about food. But the context of birkat hamazon is surely relevant. If we thank God for the land, but only after eating, then why is the land important to us? Clearly, it is important in that it provides us with food. And thus, we have a separate blessing which thanks God for food. Could this thanks not have been included in the “land” blessing? It could, and (according to some opinions) the bracha me'ein shalosh we say after eating cake is exactly such a “combined” blessing. But for birkat hamazon, the accepted text has the topics separated into multiple blessings.
Now to the third blessing. Where in Devarim 8:10 is there any hint of Jerusalem?
I think the answer is in the last few words of the verse, “which He has given you”. The second blessing thanks God for the land, the third blessing thanks God for our control of it. Only when we control the land can we enjoy its produce; if we are exiled or oppressed, we are not benefiting from it. Jerusalem is simply the current symbol of that control. Once God “has mercy on Israel... Jerusalem... Zion... the kingdom of the house of David... the Temple” (to quote the blessing), then we will be returned from exile, living peacefully with the land of Israel under our control.
The “kingdom of the house of David”, which seems to be the most peripheral item on the list I just quoted, may actually be the most important. According to the Shulchan Aruch, if you forget the phrase “kingdom of the house of David”, your entire birkat hamazon is invalid. Similarly, the Yemenite text of birkat hamazon has a very different third blessing from ours, which puts even more emphasis on the “kingdom of the house of David” than we do. I think we can explain this emphasis by saying that the blessing's basic theme is our control over the land, and if we leave this out the purpose of the blessing is not accomplished.
Now, for almost 2000 years we did not have control over the land of Israel. So, technically speaking, it was impossible to thank God for control. Instead, we have offered a prayer that control be returned to us. We still say this today, partly because changing established texts is difficult and fraught with danger, partly because our control of the land is still very incomplete.
Of course, we are forced to say that the third blessing did not always mention rebuilding Jerusalem. When the Temple was standing, it must have said something like “We thank you for preserving the kingdom of David in the holy city of Jerusalem”. Before the Temple was built, it must have said something similar about Shiloh. The exact wording would change from generation to generation. But the Biblically mandated idea – recognition that the land has been delivered into our control as a Divine gift – remains the same.
On a different note: Taking a broad look at birkat hamazon, we see the following rough pattern. In the three blessings we thank God for our food, for the farm which provided the food, and for the political circumstances which allow us to benefit from that farm. This list begins with the immediate and personal, and proceeds to the universal and abstract. In some ways, it reminds one of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, in which the lower needs must be satisfied before the higher ones.
R' Yosef says (Brachot 46a) that the fourth blessing of birkat hamazon, “Hatov vehametiv”, must be rabbinic rather than required by the Torah. His argument is that all-day workers (who must not waste time while “on the clock”) omit this blessing from after their meals, and if the Torah required it, it could not be omitted even in this situation. After this, the gemara brings several other, similar, proofs why “Hatov vehametiv” is rabbinic.
The implication of all this is that all three of the previous blessings are from the Torah. This is hard to understand. In particular, the third blessing is about the rebuilding of Jerusalem. Jerusalem did not become the site of the Temple or national capital until hundreds of years after the Torah was given. For most of the interim period, the city Shiloh played the role we associate with Jerusalem. So how can the Torah require us to recite the blessing this way?
Let us look at the Torah's source for birkat hamazon, and see where each of the three blessings can possibly come from.
“You shall eat, and be sated, and bless Hashem you God for the good land which He has given you.” (Devarim 8:10)
The second blessing is easiest to justify. It is about the land, and we are explicitly told to thank God for the land.
The first blessing is about food. We are not told explicitly to bless about food. But the context of birkat hamazon is surely relevant. If we thank God for the land, but only after eating, then why is the land important to us? Clearly, it is important in that it provides us with food. And thus, we have a separate blessing which thanks God for food. Could this thanks not have been included in the “land” blessing? It could, and (according to some opinions) the bracha me'ein shalosh we say after eating cake is exactly such a “combined” blessing. But for birkat hamazon, the accepted text has the topics separated into multiple blessings.
Now to the third blessing. Where in Devarim 8:10 is there any hint of Jerusalem?
I think the answer is in the last few words of the verse, “which He has given you”. The second blessing thanks God for the land, the third blessing thanks God for our control of it. Only when we control the land can we enjoy its produce; if we are exiled or oppressed, we are not benefiting from it. Jerusalem is simply the current symbol of that control. Once God “has mercy on Israel... Jerusalem... Zion... the kingdom of the house of David... the Temple” (to quote the blessing), then we will be returned from exile, living peacefully with the land of Israel under our control.
The “kingdom of the house of David”, which seems to be the most peripheral item on the list I just quoted, may actually be the most important. According to the Shulchan Aruch, if you forget the phrase “kingdom of the house of David”, your entire birkat hamazon is invalid. Similarly, the Yemenite text of birkat hamazon has a very different third blessing from ours, which puts even more emphasis on the “kingdom of the house of David” than we do. I think we can explain this emphasis by saying that the blessing's basic theme is our control over the land, and if we leave this out the purpose of the blessing is not accomplished.
Now, for almost 2000 years we did not have control over the land of Israel. So, technically speaking, it was impossible to thank God for control. Instead, we have offered a prayer that control be returned to us. We still say this today, partly because changing established texts is difficult and fraught with danger, partly because our control of the land is still very incomplete.
Of course, we are forced to say that the third blessing did not always mention rebuilding Jerusalem. When the Temple was standing, it must have said something like “We thank you for preserving the kingdom of David in the holy city of Jerusalem”. Before the Temple was built, it must have said something similar about Shiloh. The exact wording would change from generation to generation. But the Biblically mandated idea – recognition that the land has been delivered into our control as a Divine gift – remains the same.
On a different note: Taking a broad look at birkat hamazon, we see the following rough pattern. In the three blessings we thank God for our food, for the farm which provided the food, and for the political circumstances which allow us to benefit from that farm. This list begins with the immediate and personal, and proceeds to the universal and abstract. In some ways, it reminds one of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, in which the lower needs must be satisfied before the higher ones.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Pesach and thanksgiving offerings
You shall not slaughter the blood of my offering on chametz; and you shall not leave until morning the slaughtered Pesach offering. (Shemot 34:25)
On matzot and bitter herbs they shall eat it. (Bamidbar 9:11)
Both of these verses discuss the Pesach sacrifice, and both mention bread. The second verse requires us to eat the Pesach with matzah. The first verse requires separation between the Pesach and chametz. Why is the connection between bread and the Pesach so important that two separate mitzvot are needed to define it? To answer this, let us look at another sacrifice - the "todah" or thanksgiving offering - which also has a strong connection to bread.
There are extensive parallels between the thanksgiving and Pesach offerings. Both are:
Beyond the practical parallels, there are thematic parallels between the sacrifices. You sacrifice the thanksgiving offering to thank God for saving you from one of four dangerous events (Tehilim 107, SA OH 219): being imprisoned, lost in the desert, dangerously sick, or traveling at sea ("yordei hayam").Some or all of these events apply equally to our experience leaving Egypt. Egyptian slavery was certainly a form of imprisonment; upon leaving we endured a long and difficult desert journey; the 10 plagues are called a "disease" (Shemot 15:26); and traveling through the split Sea would likely qualify as "yeridah layam". Thus, the background to offering the Pesach and thanksgiving sacrifices is very similar.
Why all these parallels?
It seems that the Pesach offering is simply a thanksgiving offering corresponding to a national/historical rather than a personal salvation. As Sforno explains (Vayikra 7:13), the purpose of the many loaves of bread you eat with the thanksgiving offering is to require you to have a communal meal to publicize what God has done for you, since no person can eat 36 loaves in an evening singlehandedly. The Pesach must similarly be eaten at a meal commemorating what God has done for us - the Seder.
In summary: Pesach and thanksgiving offerings are linked by their relation to bread, their sacrificial procedure, the events triggering them, and the manner in which they are eaten. It seems they are the exact same offering, only offered in response to different events - personal, or else communal.
UPDATE: A friend of mine (D.Z.), who I assume does not read this blog, sent me a dvar torah in which he too made the connection between yetziat mitzraim and the 4 reasons for korban todah. I asked him where he'd got the idea. He said he'd thought of it himself, but afterwards found the same idea in the Maharsha, Brachot 54a.
On matzot and bitter herbs they shall eat it. (Bamidbar 9:11)
Both of these verses discuss the Pesach sacrifice, and both mention bread. The second verse requires us to eat the Pesach with matzah. The first verse requires separation between the Pesach and chametz. Why is the connection between bread and the Pesach so important that two separate mitzvot are needed to define it? To answer this, let us look at another sacrifice - the "todah" or thanksgiving offering - which also has a strong connection to bread.
There are extensive parallels between the thanksgiving and Pesach offerings. Both are:
- "shelamim" - sacrifices which are eaten by their owners anywhere within the walls of Jerusalem.
- distinct from normal "shelamim" in that you must finish eating them by midnight after the day you have sacrificed them (for normal "shelamim" you are allowed an additional 18 hours).
- closely involved with bread: Pesach as we mentioned, and the thanksgiving offering in that it must be sacrificed along with 36 loaves of bread which then are eaten along with the sacrificed animal.
Beyond the practical parallels, there are thematic parallels between the sacrifices. You sacrifice the thanksgiving offering to thank God for saving you from one of four dangerous events (Tehilim 107, SA OH 219): being imprisoned, lost in the desert, dangerously sick, or traveling at sea ("yordei hayam").Some or all of these events apply equally to our experience leaving Egypt. Egyptian slavery was certainly a form of imprisonment; upon leaving we endured a long and difficult desert journey; the 10 plagues are called a "disease" (Shemot 15:26); and traveling through the split Sea would likely qualify as "yeridah layam". Thus, the background to offering the Pesach and thanksgiving sacrifices is very similar.
Why all these parallels?
It seems that the Pesach offering is simply a thanksgiving offering corresponding to a national/historical rather than a personal salvation. As Sforno explains (Vayikra 7:13), the purpose of the many loaves of bread you eat with the thanksgiving offering is to require you to have a communal meal to publicize what God has done for you, since no person can eat 36 loaves in an evening singlehandedly. The Pesach must similarly be eaten at a meal commemorating what God has done for us - the Seder.
In summary: Pesach and thanksgiving offerings are linked by their relation to bread, their sacrificial procedure, the events triggering them, and the manner in which they are eaten. It seems they are the exact same offering, only offered in response to different events - personal, or else communal.
UPDATE: A friend of mine (D.Z.), who I assume does not read this blog, sent me a dvar torah in which he too made the connection between yetziat mitzraim and the 4 reasons for korban todah. I asked him where he'd got the idea. He said he'd thought of it himself, but afterwards found the same idea in the Maharsha, Brachot 54a.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Love and flowers
I want to discuss why we read Shir Hashirim on Pesach, and then to talk about a halacha which relates to that discussion.
There are two reasons we read Megillat Ruth on Shavuot. The thematic reason is that Ruth's acceptance of the Torah parallels our own acceptance at Sinai. The contextual reason is that the main events in the book took place during the harvest season ("She stuck with Boaz' maidens in order to glean until the end of barley harvest and wheat harvest", 2:23), which is around Shavout.
Regarding Shir Hashirim, the thematic reason for reading it on Pesach is clear. Pesach was the beginning of the love affair between God and the Jewish people. See for example Yirmiyahu 2:2 which builds on this theme ("Thus says Hashem: I remember for you the affection of your youth, the love of your marrying; how you went after Me in the desert, in a land that was not sown.").
Less obviously, there may be a contextual as well as a thematic reason for the Pesach reading. As with Ruth, one verse of Shir Hashirim alludes to a specific time of year. This is verse 6:11: "I went down into the nut garden, to look at the green plants of the valley, to see whether the grape vine had budded, and the pomegranates were in flower."
The phenomenon of trees, including the grape vine and pomegranate, flowering in spring is well-known. There is even a special blessing for it: "Blessed are you Hashem king of the world, who did not leave his world lacking in anything, and created in it good creations and good trees so that people may enjoy/benefit from them." (Shulchan Aruch OH 226). This blessing is recited when seeing flowering trees in the month of Nisan. The time of flowering may vary from species to species and place to place, but apparently, in Israel most tree species flower in Nisan. Thus the verse from Shir Hashirim is probably set in Nisan, and therefore, we read Shir Hashirim in the middle of Nisan - on Pesach.
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Why does this blessing on flowering trees exist? Have you ever seen flowers that were so beautiful you could not avoid remarking on their beauty? It seems that the aforementioned blessing is an example of such a remark, only made to God (who made the flowers) rather than to a person. Yet while you might enjoy the beauty of any flower, for example tulips or daffodils, the blessing only applies to flowering trees which create edible fruit (see Be'er Hetev 226:1). It seems that to qualify for the blessing, the flowers in question must be not only beautiful but useful.
Perhaps this qualification comes from the difference between modern and ancient society. Nowadays, most of us live in cities, work in offices, walk on streets, and drive cars. We rarely see the plants, animals and landscapes of natural world like our ancestors did. This is not good for us and we try actively to fill the deficiency. We design parks, water plants and lawns, and take vacations for this reason. Perhaps for the same reason we are excessively fond of beautiful flowers, which in addition to their inherent attractiveness, bear the burden of representing nature in an environment where it is lacking.
For ancient people without advanced technology, things would have been somewhat different. Rather than having to seek out nature, they took it for granted as their all-encompassing surroundings. Like a long-married couple and unlike lovers who have recently met, they were familiar with nature and comfortable with each of its distinctive qualities. Flowers were one such quality, and to enjoy them was to appreciate one especially nice facet of the world they lived in, not to grab hold of a distant reality which they had long been deprived of.
Alongside this calmer approach to natural beauty came a heightened dependence on natural produce as the basis of one's livelihood. Thus flowers which looked nice were worthy of some interest, but flowers which looked nice and gave rise to grapes and pomegranates were of extreme interest. Neither vital but ugly sheaves of grain, nor pretty but useless violets, merited a blessing. But when the qualities of beauty and bounty were combined, a threshold was passed and our sages decreed the recitation of a blessing. One reason alone was not sufficient for the recital of Ruth or Shir Hashirim, nor for a blessing on flowers. Only the confluence of two separate reasons was a compelling enough basis for the creation of a new ritual.
There are two reasons we read Megillat Ruth on Shavuot. The thematic reason is that Ruth's acceptance of the Torah parallels our own acceptance at Sinai. The contextual reason is that the main events in the book took place during the harvest season ("She stuck with Boaz' maidens in order to glean until the end of barley harvest and wheat harvest", 2:23), which is around Shavout.
Regarding Shir Hashirim, the thematic reason for reading it on Pesach is clear. Pesach was the beginning of the love affair between God and the Jewish people. See for example Yirmiyahu 2:2 which builds on this theme ("Thus says Hashem: I remember for you the affection of your youth, the love of your marrying; how you went after Me in the desert, in a land that was not sown.").
Less obviously, there may be a contextual as well as a thematic reason for the Pesach reading. As with Ruth, one verse of Shir Hashirim alludes to a specific time of year. This is verse 6:11: "I went down into the nut garden, to look at the green plants of the valley, to see whether the grape vine had budded, and the pomegranates were in flower."
The phenomenon of trees, including the grape vine and pomegranate, flowering in spring is well-known. There is even a special blessing for it: "Blessed are you Hashem king of the world, who did not leave his world lacking in anything, and created in it good creations and good trees so that people may enjoy/benefit from them." (Shulchan Aruch OH 226). This blessing is recited when seeing flowering trees in the month of Nisan. The time of flowering may vary from species to species and place to place, but apparently, in Israel most tree species flower in Nisan. Thus the verse from Shir Hashirim is probably set in Nisan, and therefore, we read Shir Hashirim in the middle of Nisan - on Pesach.
---
Why does this blessing on flowering trees exist? Have you ever seen flowers that were so beautiful you could not avoid remarking on their beauty? It seems that the aforementioned blessing is an example of such a remark, only made to God (who made the flowers) rather than to a person. Yet while you might enjoy the beauty of any flower, for example tulips or daffodils, the blessing only applies to flowering trees which create edible fruit (see Be'er Hetev 226:1). It seems that to qualify for the blessing, the flowers in question must be not only beautiful but useful.
Perhaps this qualification comes from the difference between modern and ancient society. Nowadays, most of us live in cities, work in offices, walk on streets, and drive cars. We rarely see the plants, animals and landscapes of natural world like our ancestors did. This is not good for us and we try actively to fill the deficiency. We design parks, water plants and lawns, and take vacations for this reason. Perhaps for the same reason we are excessively fond of beautiful flowers, which in addition to their inherent attractiveness, bear the burden of representing nature in an environment where it is lacking.
For ancient people without advanced technology, things would have been somewhat different. Rather than having to seek out nature, they took it for granted as their all-encompassing surroundings. Like a long-married couple and unlike lovers who have recently met, they were familiar with nature and comfortable with each of its distinctive qualities. Flowers were one such quality, and to enjoy them was to appreciate one especially nice facet of the world they lived in, not to grab hold of a distant reality which they had long been deprived of.
Alongside this calmer approach to natural beauty came a heightened dependence on natural produce as the basis of one's livelihood. Thus flowers which looked nice were worthy of some interest, but flowers which looked nice and gave rise to grapes and pomegranates were of extreme interest. Neither vital but ugly sheaves of grain, nor pretty but useless violets, merited a blessing. But when the qualities of beauty and bounty were combined, a threshold was passed and our sages decreed the recitation of a blessing. One reason alone was not sufficient for the recital of Ruth or Shir Hashirim, nor for a blessing on flowers. Only the confluence of two separate reasons was a compelling enough basis for the creation of a new ritual.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Dilemma
According to the Rambam (i.e. Issurei Biah 18:18, Kelaim 10:23, Shaar Avot Hatuma 16:1), a "safek deoraita" is not forbidden by the Torah, only by the rabbis. Yet if you are in doubt as to whether you violated a mitzvah, the Torah requires you to bring an "asham talui" guilt offering. How do these two laws not contradict one another?
I don't know the answer, but it sounds like something the achronim have probably discussed extensively.
UPDATE: an answer.
I don't know the answer, but it sounds like something the achronim have probably discussed extensively.
UPDATE: an answer.
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