In those days, while Mordecai sat in the king's gate... (2:21)
In ancient times, it was customary for judges to sit in the gate and conduct their duties there (see i.e. Devarim 22:15 and Shmuel Alef 4:15-18). What was Mordechai doing sitting there? Perhaps this verse tells us that from the beginning of the story Mordechai was already a powerful member of the king's court, with the power to judge other members.
If so, then it is easier to understand why Mordechai thinks he can get away with not bowing to Haman, and easier to understand why Mordechai in particular is appointed second to the king at the end of the megillah.
This approach is not contradicted by the episode in which Mordechai reports the plot against Ahashverosh. Contrary to popular opinion, Mordechai probably did not overhear the plotters himself. Rather, "became known to Mordechai" presumably means that the matter was told to Mordechai by someone lower than himself, and of course Mordechai had the connections needed in order to inform the king.
The king loved Esther more than all the women ... so that he set the royal crown upon her head, and made her queen instead of Vashti. The king made a great feast unto all his princes and his servants - Esther's feast - and he made a release ['hanacha'] to the provinces, and gave gifts, according to the bounty of the king. (2:17-18)
"There is a certain people scattered abroad and dispersed among the peoples in all the provinces of thy kingdom; ... and it is not worthwile for the king to suffer them ['lehanicham']." (3:8)
In the megillah, the verb "lehaniach" here is used only in these two verses. The meaning not the same: Haman's "hanacha" means passive acceptance of the Jews' existence, while Ahashverosh's means some extra gift which was granted to the empire. The use of the same verb, with different meanings, within a space of 12 verses draws attention to the contrast between the uses.
It appears that the when all the empire's peoples received Ahashverosh's "hanacha", the Jews were among them. No doubt they were happy at receiving gifts, at the opportunity to party in Shushan, and for those who knew, at the knowledge that one of their own had "made it" by marrying into the royal family. Mordechai's loyalty to Ahashverosh when he learns of the plot (2:21-23) is an indicator of this identification with, even assimilation into, the ruling establishment.
At this exact moment, the megillah uses the verb "lehaniach" again in quite the opposite context. Just when the Jews became most successful and integrated into Persian society, the question arose whether they even possessed the right to live. By connecting these two events through their juxtaposition and the common use of "lehaniach", the megillah suggests the transience and insignificance of their accomplishments in Shushan. If the accomplishments could be uprooted so quickly by the very people who had granted them, then perhaps they were not worth putting so much effort into in the first place.
Esther spoke again before the king, and fell down at his feet, and cried and begged him to eliminate the evil of Haman the Agagite... (8:3)
According to the gemara (Megillah 14a) we do not say Hallel on Purim because despite the miracles at the time we remained slaves to Ahashverosh. We still must commemorate being saved, but this cannot be an opportunity for complete rejoicing.
The crisis in the Megillah began when Mordechai refused to bow to Haman. In verse 8:3, we see that the crisis is ended by Esther bowing to Ahashverosh. Perhaps it is somewhat better to bow to Ahashverosh than to Haman. But whatever principle was gained by Mordechai's initial act is likely lost here. This is a vivid illustration of the gemara's point that it was not yet the right opportunity to say Hallel.
For writing which is written in the king's name and sealed with the king's ring cannot be reversed. (8:8)
One interesting feature of the megillah is how Ahashverosh cannot simply cancel his decree to exterminate the Jews. Instead, he can only issue a complementary decree allowing the Jews to fight back. Perhaps another example of inability to cancel a decree occurs after Ahashverosh divorces Vashti in a fit of drunken rage. Once he sobers up he cannot reverse this decision, but must search for a different queen.
We see the same phenomenon regarding a different Persian king in the book of Daniel (6:7-17). King Darius decrees that anyone who prays to God or a man other than Darius must be killed. Then Daniel is caught praying, much to Darius' distress since he likes Daniel. But his advisors tell him, "Know, O king, that it is a law of the Medes and Persians, that any prohibition or law which the king establishes may not be changed." Thus Daniel cannot escape being thrown into the lion pit, though in the pit he is miraculously saved.
Thus it seems that that in the Persian empire, a formal decree once made by the king could never be reversed. There is no evidence of a similar rule in other ancient kingdoms, and the logic behind the rule is not obvious.
R' Yaakov Medan ("Daniel: Galut vehitgalut", p. 152) suggests a possible rational for this practice. The 127-province Persian empire was so large and diverse that unless the law was held in the highest possible esteem, the empire could descend into anarchy. Making each royal decree permanent was a way of increasing its standing and the respect all the diverse peoples would have for it, thus decreasing revolts and making the empire more stable.
I hesitate to advance ideas that people much more informed than myself may have considered and rejected, but the following justification seems to me more compelling than R' Medan's. Presumably the unique legal system of the Persian empire reflects some unique quality of the empire itself. The Persian empire was not unique among ancient kingdoms not in its size, but in that it was ruled jointly by two distinct nations. The Assyrian empire was ruled by Assyria, the Babylonian empire by Babylon, and so on. But the Persian empire was ruled by both Persia and Media. Thus Ahashverosh's banquet is for "the army of Persia and Media" (1:3), and the above quote from Daniel referes to the "law of the Medes and Persians", since both nations are part of the government hierarchy.
The presence of two separate nations in power probably led to tensions between the two. In order to prevent power struggles between them from leading to civil war, some kind of restrictions on the government were necessary. There was likely a legacy of past royal decrees establishing the division of power between Persia and Media. By making these and all other formal decrees irrevocable, the balance of power between Persians and Medes was ensured, and the empire's overall stability was enhanced.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Aharon and chet haegel
When the people saw that Moshe delayed to come down from the mountain, the people gathered themselves together to Aharon, and said to him: "Rise, make us gods who shall go before us..." ... [Aharon] received [their golden rings], and fashioned it with a graving tool, and made it a molten calf; and they said: "These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt." When Aharon saw this, he built an altar before it; and Aaron proclaimed, saying: "Tomorrow is a festival to Hashem." (32:1-5)
The people ask Aharon to make "gods". Aharon makes a single calf (representing perhaps a single god). The people proclaim "These are our gods". Aharon responds by declaring a ceremony for Hashem, the one real God.
It is not clear who the people end up worshipping: one God, or a whole bunch of deities. But clearly Aharon has tried to direct their polytheistic enthusiasm into a monotheistic framework. If he succeeded in this, then the most severe aspect of the sin was avoided through his initiative.
Hashem smote the people, because they made the calf, which Aharon made. (32:35)
This line seems to be phrased awkwardly on purpose. Did the people make the calf... or Aharon... or both? The intent is to point out that Aharon made it - raising the possibility that he should be punished - and simultaneously to say that the people and not Aharon deserve to be punished by "smiting". Aharon was physically responsible for the calf, and he is certainly embarrassed when his brother comes down and sees him in charge of the whole scene, but here God decided not to punish him for it.
It is not fair to compare Aharon's actions to Moshe's at the time. The premise of the sin was that Moshe would not return and the people had to create new leadership for themselves. Once Moshe showed up, the calf worship immediately lost its basis. I suspect Aharon's course of action was the best possible under the circumstances. Better even than opposing the worship, getting martyred over it, and then having the people worship "gods" as they originally intended.
The people ask Aharon to make "gods". Aharon makes a single calf (representing perhaps a single god). The people proclaim "These are our gods". Aharon responds by declaring a ceremony for Hashem, the one real God.
It is not clear who the people end up worshipping: one God, or a whole bunch of deities. But clearly Aharon has tried to direct their polytheistic enthusiasm into a monotheistic framework. If he succeeded in this, then the most severe aspect of the sin was avoided through his initiative.
Hashem smote the people, because they made the calf, which Aharon made. (32:35)
This line seems to be phrased awkwardly on purpose. Did the people make the calf... or Aharon... or both? The intent is to point out that Aharon made it - raising the possibility that he should be punished - and simultaneously to say that the people and not Aharon deserve to be punished by "smiting". Aharon was physically responsible for the calf, and he is certainly embarrassed when his brother comes down and sees him in charge of the whole scene, but here God decided not to punish him for it.
It is not fair to compare Aharon's actions to Moshe's at the time. The premise of the sin was that Moshe would not return and the people had to create new leadership for themselves. Once Moshe showed up, the calf worship immediately lost its basis. I suspect Aharon's course of action was the best possible under the circumstances. Better even than opposing the worship, getting martyred over it, and then having the people worship "gods" as they originally intended.
An apology
Contemplating recently whether to de-anonymize my blog, I decided to read through the archives and see if there was really anything there I wouldn't want to be associated with.
I found relatively little such material. But what I did find was immense jump in the complexity of the posts as time went on. Reading my early posts was easy and fun. The later posts were objectively better in content and structure, but much less enjoyable to read.
Suddenly I understand why people comment so infrequently on the blog nowadays. This blog is just not something a person would read for fun.
Is this my fault for writing boringly? Or the subject matter's fault for being too complex? My feeling is that both are somewhat true. I can and have been trying to deal with my boringness. But it's not easy, there is no simple formula for how to write interestingly, and the boundary between my boringness and the material's boringness (despite its worthwhileness) is rarely obvious.
In the meantime, sorry that I have driven you all away from the blog.
Of course, it's easy to apologize when you know the people who need apologizing to won't hear you...
I found relatively little such material. But what I did find was immense jump in the complexity of the posts as time went on. Reading my early posts was easy and fun. The later posts were objectively better in content and structure, but much less enjoyable to read.
Suddenly I understand why people comment so infrequently on the blog nowadays. This blog is just not something a person would read for fun.
Is this my fault for writing boringly? Or the subject matter's fault for being too complex? My feeling is that both are somewhat true. I can and have been trying to deal with my boringness. But it's not easy, there is no simple formula for how to write interestingly, and the boundary between my boringness and the material's boringness (despite its worthwhileness) is rarely obvious.
In the meantime, sorry that I have driven you all away from the blog.
Of course, it's easy to apologize when you know the people who need apologizing to won't hear you...
Notes from the main Haifa train station
[the posting of this was delayed for several days...]
Like in any public space, there is plenty of advertising here. From where I am sitting, I can see posters advertising a total of six different products.
All six "products" are degree programs offered by different universities or colleges across Israel.
It's nice to see that Israeli priorities are still in the right place.
Like in any public space, there is plenty of advertising here. From where I am sitting, I can see posters advertising a total of six different products.
All six "products" are degree programs offered by different universities or colleges across Israel.
It's nice to see that Israeli priorities are still in the right place.
Monday, March 09, 2009
PPurimm TTorahh
In many places Tanach describes sinners as being "drunk". And nowhere is this description more appropriate than in describing Jews who do not make aliyah.
One symptom of the drunkenness of Jews still in exile is a severe case of double vision. Whenever they look at the calendar, they see each holiday twice. Two days of Shavuot, two seders on Pesach, and so on. If they could see clearly, they'd know that each of these holidays takes place on one specific day. But due to their double vision they celebrate each holiday twice, on the correct day and also one day later.
The only holiday when this does not happen is Yom Kippur. Then - because they are fasting and can't drink - they celebrate one day like they are supposed to.
There is also one day on which the pattern is reversed ("venahafoch hu"). On Purim, Jews in exile celebrate one day. But Jews in Israel celebrate two days: Purim and Shushan Purim. The one time all year when you are required to be drunk and have halachic "double vision", Jews in exile are unable to. Alcoholics cannot simply enjoy a single drink like the rest of us. They have to abstain and miss the occasion, lest one drink become two or three or four drinks and they fall back into the cycle of their addiction. So too with Jews outside Israel. They cannot celebrate Purim for two days, like it is intended to be. Instead, they must make do with the relative sobriety of a one-day Purim.
Luckily for them, it's not too late to cure their "alcoholism". I hear Nefesh Benefesh is starting a new 12 step program...
One symptom of the drunkenness of Jews still in exile is a severe case of double vision. Whenever they look at the calendar, they see each holiday twice. Two days of Shavuot, two seders on Pesach, and so on. If they could see clearly, they'd know that each of these holidays takes place on one specific day. But due to their double vision they celebrate each holiday twice, on the correct day and also one day later.
The only holiday when this does not happen is Yom Kippur. Then - because they are fasting and can't drink - they celebrate one day like they are supposed to.
There is also one day on which the pattern is reversed ("venahafoch hu"). On Purim, Jews in exile celebrate one day. But Jews in Israel celebrate two days: Purim and Shushan Purim. The one time all year when you are required to be drunk and have halachic "double vision", Jews in exile are unable to. Alcoholics cannot simply enjoy a single drink like the rest of us. They have to abstain and miss the occasion, lest one drink become two or three or four drinks and they fall back into the cycle of their addiction. So too with Jews outside Israel. They cannot celebrate Purim for two days, like it is intended to be. Instead, they must make do with the relative sobriety of a one-day Purim.
Luckily for them, it's not too late to cure their "alcoholism". I hear Nefesh Benefesh is starting a new 12 step program...
Purim costumes
I once heard how a friend of a friend had joined the Purim party in a charedi yeshiva. He wore his normal dati leumi clothes, but nobody there thought he was out of place. On the contrary, they assumed he was a charedi guy dressing up as dati leumi. Because he was in fact really dati leumi, his "costume" was correct in all the little details which are hard for outsiders to get right, and he received many compliments for its realism!
One of the things I like about Purim is the fact that in costume, you can't tell if a person is charedi, dati leumi, or (in many cases) secular. When we meet people, we generally begin by relating to them in certain ways, based on preconceptions we have about their background. These preconceptions may not be negative, but they do tend to limit our interaction to certain predefined patterns. On Purim it is harder to do this. Deprived of the usual procedures for determining who is who, the only option is to treat everyone the same way. Then, either we discover that other people are not as different from us as we assumed, or if real differences in outlook come up, we must tackle them head-on rather than diverting then into an "of course THEY think that way" pigeonhole.
Your Purim costume hides some things about you. But your normal clothes, the "costume" you wear all year long, hide much more. On Purim you take this costume off. Physically, it is replaced by whatever unusual and amusing attire you wear instead. Socially, nothing replaces it, and the opportunity exists for more direct and intimate interaction with all members of the Jewish people.
One of the things I like about Purim is the fact that in costume, you can't tell if a person is charedi, dati leumi, or (in many cases) secular. When we meet people, we generally begin by relating to them in certain ways, based on preconceptions we have about their background. These preconceptions may not be negative, but they do tend to limit our interaction to certain predefined patterns. On Purim it is harder to do this. Deprived of the usual procedures for determining who is who, the only option is to treat everyone the same way. Then, either we discover that other people are not as different from us as we assumed, or if real differences in outlook come up, we must tackle them head-on rather than diverting then into an "of course THEY think that way" pigeonhole.
Your Purim costume hides some things about you. But your normal clothes, the "costume" you wear all year long, hide much more. On Purim you take this costume off. Physically, it is replaced by whatever unusual and amusing attire you wear instead. Socially, nothing replaces it, and the opportunity exists for more direct and intimate interaction with all members of the Jewish people.
Portrait
Some thoughts on "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" by James Joyce. This post assumes knowledge of the book's plot.
Each of the first 4 chapters ends with an "epiphany" or "breakthrough" which Stephen experiences.
In chapters 1 and 3 this breakthrough is in the direction of the church. In chapter 1 he goes to the school principal and questions his punishment. Through this action, intellectually he makes sense of life in the religious school, and socially he gains respect and standing in it. In chapter 3 he abandons his dissolute lifestyle and becomes religious.
In chapters 2 and 4 this breakthrough is in the direction of women. In chapter 2 he gains the courage to visit a prostitute. In chapter 4 he meets the girl bathing on the beach.
The key figure in chapter 5 is Cranly. He is religious and so represents the church. At the same time he has "womanly" eyes and, at least in the sense of having sensitive relationships with other people, represents women. Thus he personifies what Stephen has been chasing throughout the previous 4 chapters. For most of chapter 5 Stephen is accompanied by Cranly. Yet by the end Stephen has made a final break with him.
I do not think chapter 5 is an abandonment of the previous chapters. Rather, it is a development from them, like chapter 3 is a development from 1 and 4 from 2. Stephen hopes to find two things in life: truth and beauty. The first he searched for in the church, the second in women. In chapter 5, rather than forgetting these objectives, he chooses a different source for them. In the past he has drawn on external sources, the church and women, in order to bring truth and beauty into his life. From now on, their source will be internal. As an "artist", through his works he will create truth and beauty.
That is what he tries to do in his complex theoretical discourses and in his poem. Whether or not these creations of his are intellectually and artistically successful is beside the point; he is only a young artist and will have many later opportunities to improve. At the very least, their complexity indicates that he is trying hard. :)
Each of the first 4 chapters ends with an "epiphany" or "breakthrough" which Stephen experiences.
In chapters 1 and 3 this breakthrough is in the direction of the church. In chapter 1 he goes to the school principal and questions his punishment. Through this action, intellectually he makes sense of life in the religious school, and socially he gains respect and standing in it. In chapter 3 he abandons his dissolute lifestyle and becomes religious.
In chapters 2 and 4 this breakthrough is in the direction of women. In chapter 2 he gains the courage to visit a prostitute. In chapter 4 he meets the girl bathing on the beach.
The key figure in chapter 5 is Cranly. He is religious and so represents the church. At the same time he has "womanly" eyes and, at least in the sense of having sensitive relationships with other people, represents women. Thus he personifies what Stephen has been chasing throughout the previous 4 chapters. For most of chapter 5 Stephen is accompanied by Cranly. Yet by the end Stephen has made a final break with him.
I do not think chapter 5 is an abandonment of the previous chapters. Rather, it is a development from them, like chapter 3 is a development from 1 and 4 from 2. Stephen hopes to find two things in life: truth and beauty. The first he searched for in the church, the second in women. In chapter 5, rather than forgetting these objectives, he chooses a different source for them. In the past he has drawn on external sources, the church and women, in order to bring truth and beauty into his life. From now on, their source will be internal. As an "artist", through his works he will create truth and beauty.
That is what he tries to do in his complex theoretical discourses and in his poem. Whether or not these creations of his are intellectually and artistically successful is beside the point; he is only a young artist and will have many later opportunities to improve. At the very least, their complexity indicates that he is trying hard. :)
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Hoshen Mishpat
You shall make a breastplate of judgment... (28:15)
What does the priest's breastplate have to do with judgment?
The answer can be derived from the last line of the instructions for making it:
"You shall put the "urim vetumim" into the breastplate of judgment, and Aharon shall bear the judgment of the children of Israel upon his heart before Hashem continually." (28:30)
And elsewhere we see the urim vetumim explicitly mentioned in connection with judgment:
"You [Moshe] shall place your glory on him [Yehoshua], so that the whole congregation of the children of Israel listens to him. And before Elazar the priest he will stand, and will ask him for the judgment of the urim before Hashem. By his mouth they will go out and by his mouth they will return - he and and the children of Israel with him, and all the congregation." (Bamidbar 27:20-21)
Almost certainly then, the "judgment" of the breastplate refers to the judgment of the urim vetumim which are contained within it. Aharon, by virtue of carrying the urim vetumim, carries the people's judgment with him wherever he goes.
But what exactly does the "judgment" of the urim vetumim consist of?
The urim vetumim were a means of communication from God to the Jewish people. Perhaps, one of the things God would tell the people would be how to resolve difficult legal cases. In Ezra 2:62 and Nechemiah 7:65, for example, it is expected that the urim vetumim would be used to determine whether certain individuals were priests, and thus allowed to eat "terumah". In these verses, the "judgment" of the urim vetumim apparently means judgment of specific court cases.
However, in the rest of Tanach we see urim vetumim used for a different purpose: to ask God for military advice, in particular whether or not to wage a certain battle. This is how the urim vetumim are apparently intended to be used by Shaul fighting against the Philistines (Shmuel Alef 28:6), by David under attack by Shaul (Shmuel Alef 23:9-13), and by the 11 tribes fighting together against Binyamin (Shoftim 20:23-29).
To that list we can add the previously mentioned verses from Bamidbar, in which Moshe is told to appoint Yehoshua as his successor. What is the relevance of urim vetumim to this appointment? Yehoshua's main task as leader was the conquest of the land of Canaan. Presumably, consulting the urim vetumim for military guidance was an inescapable part of the conquest. As God describes things, Yehoshua will visit Elazar, then Elazar's urim vetumim will provide advice, and finally the people will go out to battle (that's the meaning of the expression "going out and returning", see here). The military advice Yehoshua would receive is called "judgment".
But since when is military strategy called "judgment"? To answer this, remember that before the monarchy, Israel was ruled by "judges". A glance through Sefer Shoftim makes it seem that sitting in court was a minor part of their job description. Only a few of them are ever listed as judging the people. But every one of them is listed as fighting wars against Israel's enemies.
Why then are they called "judges", if their main role was military? The answer can be derived from a comparison between different conceptions of the judge's role.* According to one conception, judgment is basically an intellectual task. The judge is to overcome the complications and ambiguities of the situation before him, figuring out exactly what the facts of the case are and exactly which passage of law applies to it. Once the verdict is issued, the judge's task is finished. This conception is strongly rooted in Greek, and therefore in modern Western conceptions of the judge's role.
In Tanach we find a different conception: that the judge's task is not only to arrive upon a verdict, but to enforce it. Enforcing the morally required outcome is so central to the judge's role that the phrase "to judge" is used as a synonym for "to save", as in Shmuel Alef 24:15, Shmuel Bet 18:19, and Yeshayahu 59:11. In this conception, it is natural to expect judges to be not only experts but leaders, and natural for leaders with sufficient moral fiber to also be trusted as judges. Thus we find Israel's military leaders, who saved the nation from its enemies, being called "judges". History remembers only their performance in crucial battles, but their title equally reflects the judicial role which they filled on a more regular basis.
It seems that the "judgment" of the urim vetumim included both aspects of Biblical "justice". As seen in Ezra and Nechemiah, the urim vetumim provided answers to legal dilemmas. And as seen in the other sources, they were a crucial source of military strategy. Many Jewish sources attest to the idea that intellectual aptitude must be accompanied by concern for the moral order and the well-being of others. Through the urim vetumim, God set an personal example in regard to this concern, by combining legal insights with the practical advice the people needed in order to defeat their enemies.
----------
*In this I follow chapter 5 of R' Eliezer Berkowitz's book of collected writings.
What does the priest's breastplate have to do with judgment?
The answer can be derived from the last line of the instructions for making it:
"You shall put the "urim vetumim" into the breastplate of judgment, and Aharon shall bear the judgment of the children of Israel upon his heart before Hashem continually." (28:30)
And elsewhere we see the urim vetumim explicitly mentioned in connection with judgment:
"You [Moshe] shall place your glory on him [Yehoshua], so that the whole congregation of the children of Israel listens to him. And before Elazar the priest he will stand, and will ask him for the judgment of the urim before Hashem. By his mouth they will go out and by his mouth they will return - he and and the children of Israel with him, and all the congregation." (Bamidbar 27:20-21)
Almost certainly then, the "judgment" of the breastplate refers to the judgment of the urim vetumim which are contained within it. Aharon, by virtue of carrying the urim vetumim, carries the people's judgment with him wherever he goes.
But what exactly does the "judgment" of the urim vetumim consist of?
The urim vetumim were a means of communication from God to the Jewish people. Perhaps, one of the things God would tell the people would be how to resolve difficult legal cases. In Ezra 2:62 and Nechemiah 7:65, for example, it is expected that the urim vetumim would be used to determine whether certain individuals were priests, and thus allowed to eat "terumah". In these verses, the "judgment" of the urim vetumim apparently means judgment of specific court cases.
However, in the rest of Tanach we see urim vetumim used for a different purpose: to ask God for military advice, in particular whether or not to wage a certain battle. This is how the urim vetumim are apparently intended to be used by Shaul fighting against the Philistines (Shmuel Alef 28:6), by David under attack by Shaul (Shmuel Alef 23:9-13), and by the 11 tribes fighting together against Binyamin (Shoftim 20:23-29).
To that list we can add the previously mentioned verses from Bamidbar, in which Moshe is told to appoint Yehoshua as his successor. What is the relevance of urim vetumim to this appointment? Yehoshua's main task as leader was the conquest of the land of Canaan. Presumably, consulting the urim vetumim for military guidance was an inescapable part of the conquest. As God describes things, Yehoshua will visit Elazar, then Elazar's urim vetumim will provide advice, and finally the people will go out to battle (that's the meaning of the expression "going out and returning", see here). The military advice Yehoshua would receive is called "judgment".
But since when is military strategy called "judgment"? To answer this, remember that before the monarchy, Israel was ruled by "judges". A glance through Sefer Shoftim makes it seem that sitting in court was a minor part of their job description. Only a few of them are ever listed as judging the people. But every one of them is listed as fighting wars against Israel's enemies.
Why then are they called "judges", if their main role was military? The answer can be derived from a comparison between different conceptions of the judge's role.* According to one conception, judgment is basically an intellectual task. The judge is to overcome the complications and ambiguities of the situation before him, figuring out exactly what the facts of the case are and exactly which passage of law applies to it. Once the verdict is issued, the judge's task is finished. This conception is strongly rooted in Greek, and therefore in modern Western conceptions of the judge's role.
In Tanach we find a different conception: that the judge's task is not only to arrive upon a verdict, but to enforce it. Enforcing the morally required outcome is so central to the judge's role that the phrase "to judge" is used as a synonym for "to save", as in Shmuel Alef 24:15, Shmuel Bet 18:19, and Yeshayahu 59:11. In this conception, it is natural to expect judges to be not only experts but leaders, and natural for leaders with sufficient moral fiber to also be trusted as judges. Thus we find Israel's military leaders, who saved the nation from its enemies, being called "judges". History remembers only their performance in crucial battles, but their title equally reflects the judicial role which they filled on a more regular basis.
It seems that the "judgment" of the urim vetumim included both aspects of Biblical "justice". As seen in Ezra and Nechemiah, the urim vetumim provided answers to legal dilemmas. And as seen in the other sources, they were a crucial source of military strategy. Many Jewish sources attest to the idea that intellectual aptitude must be accompanied by concern for the moral order and the well-being of others. Through the urim vetumim, God set an personal example in regard to this concern, by combining legal insights with the practical advice the people needed in order to defeat their enemies.
----------
*In this I follow chapter 5 of R' Eliezer Berkowitz's book of collected writings.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Thoughts on the Mishkan
If asked to determine whether a house was being lived in or not, I would investigate two things: whether the house's lights were on, and whether there was food in the fridge. The presence of both would be strong evidence that somebody lived there, even if they were not physically present at the moment.
Imagine then that you came to the Temple in Jerusalem, walked in the front door, and found the lights on and food in a refrigerator. By the same logic, you would conclude that someone was living there, even if the building was physically empty at the time. And taking the limitations of ancient technology into account, it does seem that the Temple's "furniture" includes a close approximation to both lights and a refrigerator .
I used to wonder what was the purpose of the "shulchan lechem hapanim", or table with showbread, in the Temple. My conclusion now is that it symbolized the ancient version of a refrigerator. The showbread, which simply sat on the table for a week before being replaced, had no practical purpose. Rather, its purpose was symbolic: to indicate that the Temple was occupied by somebody, who possessed a stash of food for their nourishment and convenience.
Unlike the showbread, the menorah has a clear practical use: the mishkan had no windows, and while the Temple had windows, they were useless at night. But I think the menorah's role is at least as much symbolic as practical, and moreover, that the symbolic significances of the menorah and showbread are linked. The menorah and showbread are often mentioned together, for example in Vayikra 24 where no other objects in the Temple are discussed. And the seven branches of the menorah, along with the seven days between replacements of showbread (Vayikra 24:8), seem to indicate a common purpose. If the showbread is a symbol that somebody calls the Temple home, the menorah is a symbol that somebody is constantly using the Temple.
The question then is: who is that somebody? There are two options: either the priests (representing Israel and/or humanity), or else God. Good arguments can be made in favor of both possibilities.
On one hand, the entire Temple is called the "house of Hashem", and when the cloud representing God enters the Temple, it apparently takes up the entire building (see Shemot 40:35, Melachim Alef 8:10-11). Thus God apparently dwells in the entire Temple building.
On the other hand, there is a huge difference between the "kodesh hakodashim", which only the high priest on Yom Kippur may enter on pain of death, and the "kodesh" or outer hall which is traversed by priests on a daily basis. If approaching God is so terrible, does this not mean that entering the outer hall does not really mean approaching God?
The menorah and showbread are located in the outer hall, and from their laws we could try to deduce who is supposed to symbolically "use" them. However, this evidence too is ambiguous. The showbread procedure resembles that of a sacrifice, and sacrifices are symbolically "eaten" by God (see Bamidbar 28:2). And in Shmuel Alef 3:3, the menorah is called "Hashem's light" and the literary implication is that once it disappears, so will God. Yet the showbread is physically eaten, and the menorah physically used for illumination, by the priests.
Since so much evidence points in both directions, it is hard to prove that the Temple's outer chamber belongs to either man or God. Perhaps the best resolution is to say that it belongs to both man and God. The "kodesh hakodashim" belongs solely to God (thus humans are virtually never allowed to enter it). The courtyard outside the Temple belongs solely to humans (since God dwells in the Temple). In between those two realms, the outer chamber of the Temple apparently is shared by man and God.
Because of this dual usage, the Temple's outer chamber is apparently where humans meet God. When Moshe went to hear a Divine message after the construction of the mishkan, he would go to the outer chamber and listen to a voice coming from the inner chamber (Bamidbar 7:89; Rashi). And Shmuel's first prophecy (Shmuel Alef 3:3-15) apparently took place in the outer chamber of the mishkan, when it was in Shiloh. Moshe and Shmuel are perhaps the two greatest prophets ever, and each of them received some of their most significant prophecies in this part of the mishkan.
Throughout Tanach, circumstances would dictate that prophets receive their message in all sorts of places and situations. But it seems that ideally, prophecy was supposed to occur in the outer chamber of the mishkan/Temple. As indicated by the symbolism of the menorah and showbread, there God and man dwelt together, and there communication between them was most natural.
Imagine then that you came to the Temple in Jerusalem, walked in the front door, and found the lights on and food in a refrigerator. By the same logic, you would conclude that someone was living there, even if the building was physically empty at the time. And taking the limitations of ancient technology into account, it does seem that the Temple's "furniture" includes a close approximation to both lights and a refrigerator .
I used to wonder what was the purpose of the "shulchan lechem hapanim", or table with showbread, in the Temple. My conclusion now is that it symbolized the ancient version of a refrigerator. The showbread, which simply sat on the table for a week before being replaced, had no practical purpose. Rather, its purpose was symbolic: to indicate that the Temple was occupied by somebody, who possessed a stash of food for their nourishment and convenience.
Unlike the showbread, the menorah has a clear practical use: the mishkan had no windows, and while the Temple had windows, they were useless at night. But I think the menorah's role is at least as much symbolic as practical, and moreover, that the symbolic significances of the menorah and showbread are linked. The menorah and showbread are often mentioned together, for example in Vayikra 24 where no other objects in the Temple are discussed. And the seven branches of the menorah, along with the seven days between replacements of showbread (Vayikra 24:8), seem to indicate a common purpose. If the showbread is a symbol that somebody calls the Temple home, the menorah is a symbol that somebody is constantly using the Temple.
The question then is: who is that somebody? There are two options: either the priests (representing Israel and/or humanity), or else God. Good arguments can be made in favor of both possibilities.
On one hand, the entire Temple is called the "house of Hashem", and when the cloud representing God enters the Temple, it apparently takes up the entire building (see Shemot 40:35, Melachim Alef 8:10-11). Thus God apparently dwells in the entire Temple building.
On the other hand, there is a huge difference between the "kodesh hakodashim", which only the high priest on Yom Kippur may enter on pain of death, and the "kodesh" or outer hall which is traversed by priests on a daily basis. If approaching God is so terrible, does this not mean that entering the outer hall does not really mean approaching God?
The menorah and showbread are located in the outer hall, and from their laws we could try to deduce who is supposed to symbolically "use" them. However, this evidence too is ambiguous. The showbread procedure resembles that of a sacrifice, and sacrifices are symbolically "eaten" by God (see Bamidbar 28:2). And in Shmuel Alef 3:3, the menorah is called "Hashem's light" and the literary implication is that once it disappears, so will God. Yet the showbread is physically eaten, and the menorah physically used for illumination, by the priests.
Since so much evidence points in both directions, it is hard to prove that the Temple's outer chamber belongs to either man or God. Perhaps the best resolution is to say that it belongs to both man and God. The "kodesh hakodashim" belongs solely to God (thus humans are virtually never allowed to enter it). The courtyard outside the Temple belongs solely to humans (since God dwells in the Temple). In between those two realms, the outer chamber of the Temple apparently is shared by man and God.
Because of this dual usage, the Temple's outer chamber is apparently where humans meet God. When Moshe went to hear a Divine message after the construction of the mishkan, he would go to the outer chamber and listen to a voice coming from the inner chamber (Bamidbar 7:89; Rashi). And Shmuel's first prophecy (Shmuel Alef 3:3-15) apparently took place in the outer chamber of the mishkan, when it was in Shiloh. Moshe and Shmuel are perhaps the two greatest prophets ever, and each of them received some of their most significant prophecies in this part of the mishkan.
Throughout Tanach, circumstances would dictate that prophets receive their message in all sorts of places and situations. But it seems that ideally, prophecy was supposed to occur in the outer chamber of the mishkan/Temple. As indicated by the symbolism of the menorah and showbread, there God and man dwelt together, and there communication between them was most natural.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Modesty
In the place I visited last Shabbat, there is apparently someone who, for a living, sells underwear and similar garments out of her home.
That struck me as a great way to run a business which is necessary and legitimate, but which by its nature attracts prurient interest. It certainly beats the mannequins dressed in transparent underwear who promenade all around the shopping mall near my home.
That struck me as a great way to run a business which is necessary and legitimate, but which by its nature attracts prurient interest. It certainly beats the mannequins dressed in transparent underwear who promenade all around the shopping mall near my home.
The angel who teaches and makes us forget
According to the gemara (Niddah 30b), before each of us is born, an angel comes and teaches us the entire Torah, yet before our birth we are made to forget it. What is the meaning of this midrash?
The midrash seems to be an expression the following two ideas about Torah:
1) It is not alien to any Jew. Even if you seem to be "encountering" it for the first time, it is inherently inside you, whether consciously or unconsciously. This can be encouraging to one who despairs of successfully learning or practicing it. It can also be a spur to one who is satisfied with their current level of achievement and sees no need for anything greater.
2) It is democratic: just like everyone learned the Torah in the womb, every deserves and can benefit from Torah education.
(mostly from a lecture by R' Soloveitchik about Pesach; March 15, 1970)
The midrash seems to be an expression the following two ideas about Torah:
1) It is not alien to any Jew. Even if you seem to be "encountering" it for the first time, it is inherently inside you, whether consciously or unconsciously. This can be encouraging to one who despairs of successfully learning or practicing it. It can also be a spur to one who is satisfied with their current level of achievement and sees no need for anything greater.
2) It is democratic: just like everyone learned the Torah in the womb, every deserves and can benefit from Torah education.
(mostly from a lecture by R' Soloveitchik about Pesach; March 15, 1970)
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Electoral reform
1. INTRODUCTION
A recurring feature of recent Israeli governments is the presence of many small parties in the coalition. No single party ever has enough Knesset seats to form a government on its own. The largest party must always recruit an array of smaller parties, trying to balance their divergent agendas and distribute authority in a way that pleases all of them. Much of the prime minister's effort is spent trying to preserve the coalition rather than actually running the country. Inevitably, after a couple years this effort fails and the country is forced to premature elections. With all the effort spent on struggles for power, not enough time is left to fully confront serious problems which the country faces.
These difficulties have been the subject of much discussion, and occasional legislation, in recent years. Three basic proposals have been suggested to deal with the problem. In this post I plan to explain how each of those proposals would actually cause more harm than good. Then I will suggest a new approach, which would likely possess the advantages of the other proposals but not their disadvantages.
2. EXISTING PROPOSALS
The first proposal is to create a two-party system where one party, or one prime minister/president, runs the government at a single time. Unfortunately, Israeli society is too fragmented to be effectively represented by two parties. In particular, Arabs and charedim would end up having to vote for parties which, respectively, launch wars in Gaza and try to institute civil marriage. Neither group would have a meaningful vote, since neither of the two parties could be broad enough to accomodate their views. We like to talk about how Arabs have more democratic rights in Israel than in any Arab country. But if they can only vote for candidates they do not agree with, in practice they would be disenfranchised. The 1990s violence of the US extreme right wing (Timothy McVeigh, Ruby Ridge) shows what happens when people feel that nobody represents them. In Israel, dealing with Muslims rather than Christians, the response would likely be much more extreme.
The second proposal is to raise the threshold for admittance to the Knesset, so that only large parties received seats and coalition negotiations would be simplified. Depending on the level to which it was raised, this would be either completely ineffective, or else catastrophic for democracy. If the level was low, the small parties would simply unite with each other to avoid missing the threshold (as two charedi parties did the last time it was raised). If the level was high, then even the united parties would fall below the threshold. Groups such as Arabs, charedim, and the national-religious would be mathematically prevented from electing a party of their own to the Knesset. Thus the second proposal would lead to outcomes just as dangerous as the first proposal.
The third proposal is to divide Israel into districts and elect one Knesset member from each district. Thus, it is hoped, parties which receive a few percent of the vote would be eliminated. However, practically speaking, such a system would eliminate meaningful voting for much of the country. In every election Jerusalem would vote for the right wing, Tel Aviv for the left wing, Bnei Brak for a haredi party, Um El Fahm for an Arab party, and so on. Only a handful of districts would ever be competitive. It would be like the electoral college system in the US, where nobody's vote counts except in a few swing states.
In Israel, the social consequences of such a system could be even more serious than the moral consequences. In the US, social trends span the whole country, so most people identify with the election results even if they didn't contribute to them. But Israeli society is more fragmented and each locality more homogenous. Predictable local elections would lead to indifference and alienation among those who feel little connection to voters in other districts. Which brings me to another crucial objection: gerrymandering is inevitable when the geographic boundaries between population groups are so clear.
Besides eliminating single-interest parties, the other predicted advantage of district elections is that politicians will be held responsible for the particular needs of their constituents. Such accountability is certainly an advantage (though with Knesset districts, it would come with the disadvantage of pork-barrel spending). But in fact such accountability already exists. Each city already has mayoral and city council elections which often are bitterly contested over local issues. All that is needed is to delegate a few more local issues from Knesset to municipal control, and the benefits of the district system can be achieved without its disadvantages.
3. A NEW PROPOSAL
If each of these three proposals would have side-effects that are likely worse than the current difficulties, then what alternatives are available? I think the following approach can likely solve the problem of unstable governments, while avoiding the side effects of the other proposals.
Imagine that 110 Knesset seats were elected using the current proportional method, and the remaining 10 were given to whichever party received the most votes overall. The fringe parties would receive almost exactly the same representation they have now. But nearly all Zionist democratic votes would go to two or three parties with a shot at winning overall. Those parties would be larger since they would include current small parties, and with the 10 extra seats, the winner would have no trouble forming a stable government.
Of course, the choice of exactly 10 bonus seats is debatable - I guessed at it, and a different number might be preferable. If the number is too small, the benefits of the change will be minimal. If the number is too big, then one party could gain overwhelming control of the Knesset and do all sorts of things which the country as a whole does not support. The number might need to be tweaked after an election or two, when it is clear how exactly voters and politicians react to the changes. Unlike in the systems discussed above, in this system the amount of change to be instituted is easily adjusted.
The fundamental question we face is how to strengthen the "top" of the system - the party forming the government - without undermining the "bottom" of the system - the current existence of equitable representation for the whole spectrum of political opinion. My proposal is to give a focused gift to the "top" while keeping the "bottom" unchanged as much as possible. Unlike other government reform proposals commonly suggested these days, this proposal should preserve the advantages of the current system, while hopefully eliminating the inefficiencies which have generated so much debate.
A recurring feature of recent Israeli governments is the presence of many small parties in the coalition. No single party ever has enough Knesset seats to form a government on its own. The largest party must always recruit an array of smaller parties, trying to balance their divergent agendas and distribute authority in a way that pleases all of them. Much of the prime minister's effort is spent trying to preserve the coalition rather than actually running the country. Inevitably, after a couple years this effort fails and the country is forced to premature elections. With all the effort spent on struggles for power, not enough time is left to fully confront serious problems which the country faces.
These difficulties have been the subject of much discussion, and occasional legislation, in recent years. Three basic proposals have been suggested to deal with the problem. In this post I plan to explain how each of those proposals would actually cause more harm than good. Then I will suggest a new approach, which would likely possess the advantages of the other proposals but not their disadvantages.
2. EXISTING PROPOSALS
The first proposal is to create a two-party system where one party, or one prime minister/president, runs the government at a single time. Unfortunately, Israeli society is too fragmented to be effectively represented by two parties. In particular, Arabs and charedim would end up having to vote for parties which, respectively, launch wars in Gaza and try to institute civil marriage. Neither group would have a meaningful vote, since neither of the two parties could be broad enough to accomodate their views. We like to talk about how Arabs have more democratic rights in Israel than in any Arab country. But if they can only vote for candidates they do not agree with, in practice they would be disenfranchised. The 1990s violence of the US extreme right wing (Timothy McVeigh, Ruby Ridge) shows what happens when people feel that nobody represents them. In Israel, dealing with Muslims rather than Christians, the response would likely be much more extreme.
The second proposal is to raise the threshold for admittance to the Knesset, so that only large parties received seats and coalition negotiations would be simplified. Depending on the level to which it was raised, this would be either completely ineffective, or else catastrophic for democracy. If the level was low, the small parties would simply unite with each other to avoid missing the threshold (as two charedi parties did the last time it was raised). If the level was high, then even the united parties would fall below the threshold. Groups such as Arabs, charedim, and the national-religious would be mathematically prevented from electing a party of their own to the Knesset. Thus the second proposal would lead to outcomes just as dangerous as the first proposal.
The third proposal is to divide Israel into districts and elect one Knesset member from each district. Thus, it is hoped, parties which receive a few percent of the vote would be eliminated. However, practically speaking, such a system would eliminate meaningful voting for much of the country. In every election Jerusalem would vote for the right wing, Tel Aviv for the left wing, Bnei Brak for a haredi party, Um El Fahm for an Arab party, and so on. Only a handful of districts would ever be competitive. It would be like the electoral college system in the US, where nobody's vote counts except in a few swing states.
In Israel, the social consequences of such a system could be even more serious than the moral consequences. In the US, social trends span the whole country, so most people identify with the election results even if they didn't contribute to them. But Israeli society is more fragmented and each locality more homogenous. Predictable local elections would lead to indifference and alienation among those who feel little connection to voters in other districts. Which brings me to another crucial objection: gerrymandering is inevitable when the geographic boundaries between population groups are so clear.
Besides eliminating single-interest parties, the other predicted advantage of district elections is that politicians will be held responsible for the particular needs of their constituents. Such accountability is certainly an advantage (though with Knesset districts, it would come with the disadvantage of pork-barrel spending). But in fact such accountability already exists. Each city already has mayoral and city council elections which often are bitterly contested over local issues. All that is needed is to delegate a few more local issues from Knesset to municipal control, and the benefits of the district system can be achieved without its disadvantages.
3. A NEW PROPOSAL
If each of these three proposals would have side-effects that are likely worse than the current difficulties, then what alternatives are available? I think the following approach can likely solve the problem of unstable governments, while avoiding the side effects of the other proposals.
Imagine that 110 Knesset seats were elected using the current proportional method, and the remaining 10 were given to whichever party received the most votes overall. The fringe parties would receive almost exactly the same representation they have now. But nearly all Zionist democratic votes would go to two or three parties with a shot at winning overall. Those parties would be larger since they would include current small parties, and with the 10 extra seats, the winner would have no trouble forming a stable government.
Of course, the choice of exactly 10 bonus seats is debatable - I guessed at it, and a different number might be preferable. If the number is too small, the benefits of the change will be minimal. If the number is too big, then one party could gain overwhelming control of the Knesset and do all sorts of things which the country as a whole does not support. The number might need to be tweaked after an election or two, when it is clear how exactly voters and politicians react to the changes. Unlike in the systems discussed above, in this system the amount of change to be instituted is easily adjusted.
The fundamental question we face is how to strengthen the "top" of the system - the party forming the government - without undermining the "bottom" of the system - the current existence of equitable representation for the whole spectrum of political opinion. My proposal is to give a focused gift to the "top" while keeping the "bottom" unchanged as much as possible. Unlike other government reform proposals commonly suggested these days, this proposal should preserve the advantages of the current system, while hopefully eliminating the inefficiencies which have generated so much debate.
Thoughts on Mishpatim
Recently I have almost stopped writing posts on parshat hashavua. This is largely a result of my decision (which I don't regret) to learn the Ramban's commentary on the parsha each week this year. This has impacted my posting in three ways:
1) It takes a really long time and I have no time left to just think about things in the parsha.
2) The mikraot gedolot I use has maybe two lines of Torah per page - the rest is commentaries - so it's hard to compare verses or see the overall progression of a passage.
3) I find that many of my ideas were already said by the Ramban, and in some cases, he says things that prove my ideas wrong. I don't plan on deleting my posts from past years that are superseded by the Ramban, but there is no reason to write new posts like that.
With that introduction, I bring you two thoughts on Mishpatim, each of which is mostly based on the Ramban's comments.
Now these are the laws which you shall set before them: If you buy a Hebrew slave..." (21:1)
Are the many, diverse laws in this parsha in any sort of order? One possible order would be to start with the most important and serious laws, then continue with successively less important laws until the least important law is reached. Excluding the initial laws of slavery, the parsha does seem to follow exactly that pattern: murder first, then several other crimes that incur the death penalty, then injuries to a person, then injuries to property. (This pattern exists all the way through verse 22:14 or maybe 22:16 - after that, we have a new section of "religious" rather than "interpersonal" laws which must be examined separately.)
Why then do the laws of slavery precede this highly ordered section of "interpersonal" laws? Two years ago I gave one possible explanation. Now I want to take a different, complementary approach.
In Vayikra 25:42 God once again prohibits lifetime slavery, saying: "For [the Jews] are My slaves, whom I took out of the land of Egypt; they shall not be sold as [perpetual] slaves."
The implication is that slavery to God and to a person are mutually exclusive. One slave cannot have two masters. A person must choose where to place his loyalty: with God, or with a human being. Thus slavery for Jews cannot have the full implications of normal slavery: it must be limited in time and intensity, so that the slave continues to see himself as truly serving God. Thus, in parshat Mishpatim we find limits on the time and conditions for Jewish slaves.
(Note that this is completely distinct from humanitarian concerns one might have about slavery - which are the main purpose of certain other slavery laws, but are certainly not the only purpose here.
Why must these conditions be at the very beginning of the parsha? As just mentioned, a main purpose of these conditions is to ensure that one remains perpetually loyal to God rather than to a person. The entire parsha consists of commands which are binding because they come from God. Without the laws limiting slavery, one would not have the degree of permanent loyalty to God needed in order to accept the Torah as God's word.
Behold, I send an angel before you, to guard you on the way, and to bring you to the place which I have prepared. ... For My angel will go before you, and bring you to the Amorite, and the Hittite, and the Perizzite, and the Canaanite, the Hivite, and the Jebusite; and I will cut them off. (23:20-23)
According to God, this angel is supposed to guide the journey to Canaan and the conquest thereof. However, such an angel is never again mentioned in the Torah. In parshat Mishpatim it seems pretty significant, so why does it just disappear later on?
To answer this question, some note that "angel" also means "messenger" and say that the verse is speaking of Moshe, God's messenger to guide the people. There is some degree of difficulty in this explanation: 1) Moshe became leader long beforehand so why should God introduce him now, and 2) Yehoshua rather than Moshe actually guided the final entry into the land and the conquest.
Ramban has a much more elegant explanation. He says that the angel is indeed an real angel. Here, God promised that it would accompany the people. But later on in Shemot 33:16-17, Moshe successfully prayed that God Himself, rather than the angelic representative, would accompany the people. Apparently this request was granted for the duration of Moshe's lifetime. Thus throughout the 40-year journey, the angel did not appear.
But after Moshe's death the angel does appear. In Yehoshua 5:13-15, just as Yehoshua is preparing for the first conquest of Jericho, an angel introduces himself to Yehoshua as "Hashem's minister of war", and then departs. It is perplexing why the angel "says hello" and then leaves without doing or saying anything of consequence. But according to the Ramban, this is the same angel God initially promised to guide the entry to Canaan. Once God personally has distanced Himself from the people (in verse 5:12 the manna stopped falling), Yehoshua must be reminded that the angel from parshat Mishpatim is taking over, right where God left off.
1) It takes a really long time and I have no time left to just think about things in the parsha.
2) The mikraot gedolot I use has maybe two lines of Torah per page - the rest is commentaries - so it's hard to compare verses or see the overall progression of a passage.
3) I find that many of my ideas were already said by the Ramban, and in some cases, he says things that prove my ideas wrong. I don't plan on deleting my posts from past years that are superseded by the Ramban, but there is no reason to write new posts like that.
With that introduction, I bring you two thoughts on Mishpatim, each of which is mostly based on the Ramban's comments.
Now these are the laws which you shall set before them: If you buy a Hebrew slave..." (21:1)
Are the many, diverse laws in this parsha in any sort of order? One possible order would be to start with the most important and serious laws, then continue with successively less important laws until the least important law is reached. Excluding the initial laws of slavery, the parsha does seem to follow exactly that pattern: murder first, then several other crimes that incur the death penalty, then injuries to a person, then injuries to property. (This pattern exists all the way through verse 22:14 or maybe 22:16 - after that, we have a new section of "religious" rather than "interpersonal" laws which must be examined separately.)
Why then do the laws of slavery precede this highly ordered section of "interpersonal" laws? Two years ago I gave one possible explanation. Now I want to take a different, complementary approach.
In Vayikra 25:42 God once again prohibits lifetime slavery, saying: "For [the Jews] are My slaves, whom I took out of the land of Egypt; they shall not be sold as [perpetual] slaves."
The implication is that slavery to God and to a person are mutually exclusive. One slave cannot have two masters. A person must choose where to place his loyalty: with God, or with a human being. Thus slavery for Jews cannot have the full implications of normal slavery: it must be limited in time and intensity, so that the slave continues to see himself as truly serving God. Thus, in parshat Mishpatim we find limits on the time and conditions for Jewish slaves.
(Note that this is completely distinct from humanitarian concerns one might have about slavery - which are the main purpose of certain other slavery laws, but are certainly not the only purpose here.
Why must these conditions be at the very beginning of the parsha? As just mentioned, a main purpose of these conditions is to ensure that one remains perpetually loyal to God rather than to a person. The entire parsha consists of commands which are binding because they come from God. Without the laws limiting slavery, one would not have the degree of permanent loyalty to God needed in order to accept the Torah as God's word.
Behold, I send an angel before you, to guard you on the way, and to bring you to the place which I have prepared. ... For My angel will go before you, and bring you to the Amorite, and the Hittite, and the Perizzite, and the Canaanite, the Hivite, and the Jebusite; and I will cut them off. (23:20-23)
According to God, this angel is supposed to guide the journey to Canaan and the conquest thereof. However, such an angel is never again mentioned in the Torah. In parshat Mishpatim it seems pretty significant, so why does it just disappear later on?
To answer this question, some note that "angel" also means "messenger" and say that the verse is speaking of Moshe, God's messenger to guide the people. There is some degree of difficulty in this explanation: 1) Moshe became leader long beforehand so why should God introduce him now, and 2) Yehoshua rather than Moshe actually guided the final entry into the land and the conquest.
Ramban has a much more elegant explanation. He says that the angel is indeed an real angel. Here, God promised that it would accompany the people. But later on in Shemot 33:16-17, Moshe successfully prayed that God Himself, rather than the angelic representative, would accompany the people. Apparently this request was granted for the duration of Moshe's lifetime. Thus throughout the 40-year journey, the angel did not appear.
But after Moshe's death the angel does appear. In Yehoshua 5:13-15, just as Yehoshua is preparing for the first conquest of Jericho, an angel introduces himself to Yehoshua as "Hashem's minister of war", and then departs. It is perplexing why the angel "says hello" and then leaves without doing or saying anything of consequence. But according to the Ramban, this is the same angel God initially promised to guide the entry to Canaan. Once God personally has distanced Himself from the people (in verse 5:12 the manna stopped falling), Yehoshua must be reminded that the angel from parshat Mishpatim is taking over, right where God left off.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Dracula
One thing that struck me about Bram Stoker's "Dracula" (and the only redeeming factor in the book, which otherwise was 400 pages of steaming, formless literary excrement), was the following fact: In the book, the male vampires only drink women's blood, and the female vampires only drink men's blood.
The fact that blood drinking only happened at night, and the weird emotional atmosphere that always surrounded it, are further indications of the same basic theme.
Evidently the whole vampire idea was just a representation of repressed Victorian sexuality.
The fact that blood drinking only happened at night, and the weird emotional atmosphere that always surrounded it, are further indications of the same basic theme.
Evidently the whole vampire idea was just a representation of repressed Victorian sexuality.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Memshelet hayom vememshelet halaya
אל חי וקיים תמיד, ימלוך עלינו לעולם ועד. ברוך אתה ה, המעריב ערבים
God who lives and exists always, He will rule over us forever. Blessed are You Hashem, who makes evenings come.
(end of the first bracha of maariv)
Once you finish ruminating over the unusual comma placement in the above quote, there is a question you should ask yourself about the words. The entire blessing talks about day and night, except for this one line which talks about God's kingship. What is the connection between day/night and kingship, and thus, what is this line's relation to the rest of the blessing?
I think the answer is as follows: One primary consequence of God's kingship is control over all the diverse natural phenomena. The sun "rules" over the day and the moon over the night. Saying that God created both sun and moon implies that God rules over sun and moon, and by implication, over all of creation.
(Inspired by R' Yaakov Medan, "Daniel: Galut vehitgalut", p. 42)
God who lives and exists always, He will rule over us forever. Blessed are You Hashem, who makes evenings come.
(end of the first bracha of maariv)
Once you finish ruminating over the unusual comma placement in the above quote, there is a question you should ask yourself about the words. The entire blessing talks about day and night, except for this one line which talks about God's kingship. What is the connection between day/night and kingship, and thus, what is this line's relation to the rest of the blessing?
I think the answer is as follows: One primary consequence of God's kingship is control over all the diverse natural phenomena. The sun "rules" over the day and the moon over the night. Saying that God created both sun and moon implies that God rules over sun and moon, and by implication, over all of creation.
(Inspired by R' Yaakov Medan, "Daniel: Galut vehitgalut", p. 42)
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The wheels on the bus go...
It is well known that in videos of moving cars, the wheels often appear to be rotating unnaturally slowly or even in reverse. This is explained well here, and I thought of it today, while studying signal processing.
Several years ago, I was surprised to see the same phenonemon in real life, not in a video. I was in a bus on a highway at night, and looking out the window, the wheels of the car next to me appeared to be barely rotating at all. How could this possibly happen? Was this the Matrix and was I being shown a video of a car next to me, not the car itself?
Eventually I thought of a good explanation. Since it was nighttime, the only lighting was provided by overhead streetlights. Being fed by AC power, they apparently flickered on and off 100 times per second (twice 50 Hz, the Israeli power frequency). I saw cars only when the light flickered on, and while it was off, each wheel traveled a whole revolution but I was unable to see it.
It was nice to have that explained, but some time later, an even weirder thing happened. I was in Istanbul (enjoying a flight layover on an Israel-NY trip), and was on a train traveling parallel to a freeway. Looking at the cars on the freeway, I saw their wheels turning backwards. My flickering-light theory was inapplicable, because the time was 11am!
But it wasn't long before I found an explanation for this too. Between the cars and train was a fence, made up of vertical bars with gaps between them. I didn't see it at first because we were moving fast enough that it became a blur. But apparently, this fence blocked one part of a car's wheel at any given time, and a moment later blocked another part. For each part of the wheel, there was a time gap in which I could not see its rotation. Thus, the same effect described above took place and the wheels appeared to be rotating backwards.
Some of the complications and weird features of this explanation:
1) Even though I couldn't see the fence itself due to the blurring, I could see its effects on the wheels.
2) Only part of the wheel was obscured at any one time, yet the same effect seemed applied consistently to the whole wheel.
3) As the wheel rotated, different parts of it moved to different places, some of which did not have the same fence-obscurance pattern as the original place - yet the effect of the fence remained unchanged. This rotational movement must be a "second-order effect" which is negligible when you analyze the equations. Though it's not obvious why it should be negligible, since rotation as a whole is a central part of the effect.
What can I say... the world is an interesting and confusing place.
Several years ago, I was surprised to see the same phenonemon in real life, not in a video. I was in a bus on a highway at night, and looking out the window, the wheels of the car next to me appeared to be barely rotating at all. How could this possibly happen? Was this the Matrix and was I being shown a video of a car next to me, not the car itself?
Eventually I thought of a good explanation. Since it was nighttime, the only lighting was provided by overhead streetlights. Being fed by AC power, they apparently flickered on and off 100 times per second (twice 50 Hz, the Israeli power frequency). I saw cars only when the light flickered on, and while it was off, each wheel traveled a whole revolution but I was unable to see it.
It was nice to have that explained, but some time later, an even weirder thing happened. I was in Istanbul (enjoying a flight layover on an Israel-NY trip), and was on a train traveling parallel to a freeway. Looking at the cars on the freeway, I saw their wheels turning backwards. My flickering-light theory was inapplicable, because the time was 11am!
But it wasn't long before I found an explanation for this too. Between the cars and train was a fence, made up of vertical bars with gaps between them. I didn't see it at first because we were moving fast enough that it became a blur. But apparently, this fence blocked one part of a car's wheel at any given time, and a moment later blocked another part. For each part of the wheel, there was a time gap in which I could not see its rotation. Thus, the same effect described above took place and the wheels appeared to be rotating backwards.
Some of the complications and weird features of this explanation:
1) Even though I couldn't see the fence itself due to the blurring, I could see its effects on the wheels.
2) Only part of the wheel was obscured at any one time, yet the same effect seemed applied consistently to the whole wheel.
3) As the wheel rotated, different parts of it moved to different places, some of which did not have the same fence-obscurance pattern as the original place - yet the effect of the fence remained unchanged. This rotational movement must be a "second-order effect" which is negligible when you analyze the equations. Though it's not obvious why it should be negligible, since rotation as a whole is a central part of the effect.
What can I say... the world is an interesting and confusing place.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Elections 2
Both Kadima and Likud did much better than projected in the last pre-election polls. And Yisrael Beitenu, Labor, and Meretz did unexpectedly badly. The reason for all this is absolutely clear. Once people realized there was actually a tight race between Likud and Kadima (beforehand everyone assumed Likud would win easily), they abandoned the small parties to support either Likud or Kadima - whichever they wanted to run the government.
But while both Likud and Kadima did better than expected, neither did well enough to make a strong coalition. For either party to make a coalition without the other, they'll almost certainly need to enlist both Yisrael Beitenu and a haredi party, probably Shas. Given the bad feelings between those parties (during the campaign Shas' chief rabbi said YB were enemies of God and religion, while YB suggested that Shas members' citizenship be revoked), that does not look like for a recipe for success. I know the almighty dollar (or shekel) can win out over both principles and emotions, but a favor right now is not enough, you'd need to somehow keep the parties off each other's throats until the next elections.
So Kadima and Likud are probably stuck with each other - on what exact terms, it's hard to predict. I think both parties are capable of being bludgeoned by Obama into "peace" agreements which predictably ensure the death of hundreds of Israelis over the next few years. Netanyahu is more against such a policy on principle, but Livni might have an easier job opposing it in practice. The real question is who has the talent and guts to deal with Iran as needed. I certainly don't trust the Kadima hacks and I'm not sure I trust even Netanyahu to make such difficult decisions. One person worth trusting for the implementation is Ehud Barak - witness his successful and complication-free attack on the Syrian reactor. But the defense ministry is the top job except for prime minister, and if Labor is the third party in the coalition they probably won't get it.
So in short I, and probably nobody else, is especially happy with the election results. This is not the first election in which everyone was disappointed, and in recent years many proposals for election reform have been suggested. I plan to share my thoughts on the issue in a hopefully soon-to-be published post.
But while both Likud and Kadima did better than expected, neither did well enough to make a strong coalition. For either party to make a coalition without the other, they'll almost certainly need to enlist both Yisrael Beitenu and a haredi party, probably Shas. Given the bad feelings between those parties (during the campaign Shas' chief rabbi said YB were enemies of God and religion, while YB suggested that Shas members' citizenship be revoked), that does not look like for a recipe for success. I know the almighty dollar (or shekel) can win out over both principles and emotions, but a favor right now is not enough, you'd need to somehow keep the parties off each other's throats until the next elections.
So Kadima and Likud are probably stuck with each other - on what exact terms, it's hard to predict. I think both parties are capable of being bludgeoned by Obama into "peace" agreements which predictably ensure the death of hundreds of Israelis over the next few years. Netanyahu is more against such a policy on principle, but Livni might have an easier job opposing it in practice. The real question is who has the talent and guts to deal with Iran as needed. I certainly don't trust the Kadima hacks and I'm not sure I trust even Netanyahu to make such difficult decisions. One person worth trusting for the implementation is Ehud Barak - witness his successful and complication-free attack on the Syrian reactor. But the defense ministry is the top job except for prime minister, and if Labor is the third party in the coalition they probably won't get it.
So in short I, and probably nobody else, is especially happy with the election results. This is not the first election in which everyone was disappointed, and in recent years many proposals for election reform have been suggested. I plan to share my thoughts on the issue in a hopefully soon-to-be published post.
Tikva Memaamakim
I just finished "Tikva Memaamakim", R' Yaakov Medan's book on Megillat Ruth. I have long thought that R' Medan does two things better than any other contemporary Jewish scholar: 1) Notice connections and commonalities between widely different realms: individual history, national history, halacha, machshava, minhag, and so on. 2) Express one's complex emotional and religious orientations in a logical manner, through which one's intuitive decisions can be clearly explained to others. (If that made any sense than perhaps I have the skill too...)
To whet your appetite for the book, here are some examples of the second ability.
1) One who fails to perform the mitzvah of yishuv eretz yisrael is punished by karet. Historically this is shown in the deaths of Lot, Yehudah, and Elimelech's families. Halachically it appears in the korbanot of Bamidbar 15:22-25,30 , which apparently talks about positive mitzvot which incur karet, and which comes after the meraglim story.
2) Miriam's tzaraat was a result of her attempts to disinherit Moshe's kids (due to their non-Israelite mother) and thus transfer future leadership to her and Aharon rather than to Moshe's kids. (In the previous story Moshe declared his inability to lead, so a replacement looked likely.) God likens the punishment to "spitting in her face" because spitting is what we do to people who try to disinherit their brothers - see halitza.
3) Boaz redeems land with a shoe, because walking across land (particularly in the original owner's shoe) is a means of acquiring it. Similarly Moshe at Sinai and all Jews in the Temple couldn't wear shoes, because it's not our land being walked on, it's God's land. And in halitza, the guy's shoe is symbolically taken from him: we want him to be disinherited just like he caused his brother to be.
To whet your appetite for the book, here are some examples of the second ability.
1) One who fails to perform the mitzvah of yishuv eretz yisrael is punished by karet. Historically this is shown in the deaths of Lot, Yehudah, and Elimelech's families. Halachically it appears in the korbanot of Bamidbar 15:22-25,30 , which apparently talks about positive mitzvot which incur karet, and which comes after the meraglim story.
2) Miriam's tzaraat was a result of her attempts to disinherit Moshe's kids (due to their non-Israelite mother) and thus transfer future leadership to her and Aharon rather than to Moshe's kids. (In the previous story Moshe declared his inability to lead, so a replacement looked likely.) God likens the punishment to "spitting in her face" because spitting is what we do to people who try to disinherit their brothers - see halitza.
3) Boaz redeems land with a shoe, because walking across land (particularly in the original owner's shoe) is a means of acquiring it. Similarly Moshe at Sinai and all Jews in the Temple couldn't wear shoes, because it's not our land being walked on, it's God's land. And in halitza, the guy's shoe is symbolically taken from him: we want him to be disinherited just like he caused his brother to be.
Um Shmum
ההוא גברא דמנהרדעא דעל לבי מטבחיא בפומבדיתא, אמר להו הבו לי בישרא.
אמרו ליה נטר עד דשקיל לשמעיה דרב יהודה בר יחזקאל וניתיב לך.
אמר מאן יהודה בר שויסקאל דקדים לי דשקל מן קמאי (קידושין ע.)
A person from Nehardea went to the butcher in Pumbedita and said, "Give me meat".
They said to him, "Wait until Rabbi Yehudah bar Yehezkel's servant takes, and then it wil be given to you."
He said, "Who is Yehudah bar Shvezkel that he has priority over me and can take before me?"
(Kidushin 70a)
אמרו ליה נטר עד דשקיל לשמעיה דרב יהודה בר יחזקאל וניתיב לך.
אמר מאן יהודה בר שויסקאל דקדים לי דשקל מן קמאי (קידושין ע.)
A person from Nehardea went to the butcher in Pumbedita and said, "Give me meat".
They said to him, "Wait until Rabbi Yehudah bar Yehezkel's servant takes, and then it wil be given to you."
He said, "Who is Yehudah bar Shvezkel that he has priority over me and can take before me?"
(Kidushin 70a)
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Elections
There is a Hebrew phrase which gets on my nerves these days: "Ein li koach". It translates to "I don't feel like" and generally precedes such unwanted tasks as doing homework, running errands, and so on, as you might expect.
But while the usage of "I don't feel like" and "Ein li koach" is identical, the meaning of the words is rather different. "I don't feel like" means that emotionally, I would prefer not to. It says nothing about what your emotions are, just what their practical consequences will be.
"Ein li koach" differs from this in that it specifies exactly what your emotion is: weakness. If you were strong, you would be willing to perform the activity. But you are weak, timid, and defeatist in your nature, so you are unable to find the enthusiasm to do something that's really worth doing. That is what the phrase literally means, and it's not a pretty meaning.
Now, this distinction between English and Hebrew could be trivial and misleading, if native speakers of a language learn such phrases as a whole and never think about how the words in the phrase fit together. Be that as it may, given the current political situation, whenever I hear the phrase "Ein li koach" it has a strong negative resonance to me.
For in the Israeli elections being held today, the choices are not so much between right-wing and left-wing as between serious political discussion and apathy. There are two parties - Labor and Likud - with well-defined political platforms, whose leaders have long resumes of both success and failure by which they can be judged. And there are two parties - Yisrael Beitenu and Kadima - with no discernable platform (beyond Yisrael Beitenu's visceral antagonism towards Arabs) nor any positive accomplishments in office (though Kadima has negative accomplishments).
You might expect that people would think about what policy is best for Israel, think about which party is best able to implement that policy, and vote according. Yet in the most recent polls, Yisrael Beitenu and Kadima were together expected to get just as many votes as Labor and Likud together. Why are so many people voting for parties that seem to have nothing to recommend themselves to anyone?
Undoubtedly some left-wingers see Kadima as a generally left-wing party, larger and thus better able to form a government coalition than Labor. And undoubtedly some right-wingers enjoy Yisrael Beitenu's rhetoric about disenfranchising Arabs. But I think these factors account for only a minority of Kadima and Yisrael Beitenu's support. More important is the fact that both parties have brand-new leaders, neither of whom was ever prime minister, and neither of whom has any significant record in their brief political careers. Experience showed that neither Netanyahu nor Barak could magically solve all the country's problems all at once. Apparently for many people, the jury is still out on whether Livni or perhaps Lieberman possess such superhuman abilities. Rather than seriously think about and confront the country's political issues, half the population would rather roll the dice and hope that the new leader will instantaneously make everything perfect. Half the country is saying "Ein li koach", and the other half will live with the consequences of that decision.
What are the likely consequences, seeing as these parties will likely not make everything perfect? Yisrael Beitenu's leader, ex-Soviet immigrant Avigdor Lieberman, apparently intends to establish Putin-style "democracy" in which all decisions will be made by trustworthy people like himself. And Kadima alternates between half-hearted attempts at left-wing and right-wing policy, failing each time and succeeding only in enriching itself in the process through bribes, money laundering, and theft from charities. Thankfully neither of these parties is projected to win the elections. But the likely result is an unstable and ineffective coalition, composed of disparate parties that agree only on the necessity of undermining each other.
Among the smaller parties, the situation is not necessarily any better, as you can see from the photographs below. Apparently the neighborhood charedim possess a list of every person of voting age in their community. Whenever someone shows up to vote, unofficial charedi election observers cross that person's name off the list. Whoever does not show up gets a personal visit from "headquarters" encouraging them to vote, for the correct party, of course. Luckily, this country still has secret balloting.
But while the usage of "I don't feel like" and "Ein li koach" is identical, the meaning of the words is rather different. "I don't feel like" means that emotionally, I would prefer not to. It says nothing about what your emotions are, just what their practical consequences will be.
"Ein li koach" differs from this in that it specifies exactly what your emotion is: weakness. If you were strong, you would be willing to perform the activity. But you are weak, timid, and defeatist in your nature, so you are unable to find the enthusiasm to do something that's really worth doing. That is what the phrase literally means, and it's not a pretty meaning.
Now, this distinction between English and Hebrew could be trivial and misleading, if native speakers of a language learn such phrases as a whole and never think about how the words in the phrase fit together. Be that as it may, given the current political situation, whenever I hear the phrase "Ein li koach" it has a strong negative resonance to me.
For in the Israeli elections being held today, the choices are not so much between right-wing and left-wing as between serious political discussion and apathy. There are two parties - Labor and Likud - with well-defined political platforms, whose leaders have long resumes of both success and failure by which they can be judged. And there are two parties - Yisrael Beitenu and Kadima - with no discernable platform (beyond Yisrael Beitenu's visceral antagonism towards Arabs) nor any positive accomplishments in office (though Kadima has negative accomplishments).
You might expect that people would think about what policy is best for Israel, think about which party is best able to implement that policy, and vote according. Yet in the most recent polls, Yisrael Beitenu and Kadima were together expected to get just as many votes as Labor and Likud together. Why are so many people voting for parties that seem to have nothing to recommend themselves to anyone?
Undoubtedly some left-wingers see Kadima as a generally left-wing party, larger and thus better able to form a government coalition than Labor. And undoubtedly some right-wingers enjoy Yisrael Beitenu's rhetoric about disenfranchising Arabs. But I think these factors account for only a minority of Kadima and Yisrael Beitenu's support. More important is the fact that both parties have brand-new leaders, neither of whom was ever prime minister, and neither of whom has any significant record in their brief political careers. Experience showed that neither Netanyahu nor Barak could magically solve all the country's problems all at once. Apparently for many people, the jury is still out on whether Livni or perhaps Lieberman possess such superhuman abilities. Rather than seriously think about and confront the country's political issues, half the population would rather roll the dice and hope that the new leader will instantaneously make everything perfect. Half the country is saying "Ein li koach", and the other half will live with the consequences of that decision.
What are the likely consequences, seeing as these parties will likely not make everything perfect? Yisrael Beitenu's leader, ex-Soviet immigrant Avigdor Lieberman, apparently intends to establish Putin-style "democracy" in which all decisions will be made by trustworthy people like himself. And Kadima alternates between half-hearted attempts at left-wing and right-wing policy, failing each time and succeeding only in enriching itself in the process through bribes, money laundering, and theft from charities. Thankfully neither of these parties is projected to win the elections. But the likely result is an unstable and ineffective coalition, composed of disparate parties that agree only on the necessity of undermining each other.
Among the smaller parties, the situation is not necessarily any better, as you can see from the photographs below. Apparently the neighborhood charedim possess a list of every person of voting age in their community. Whenever someone shows up to vote, unofficial charedi election observers cross that person's name off the list. Whoever does not show up gets a personal visit from "headquarters" encouraging them to vote, for the correct party, of course. Luckily, this country still has secret balloting.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)