Thus you shall say to the house of Jacob and tell the children of Israel: "You have seen what I did to Egypt, and how I lifted you up on wings of eagles, and brought you to Me." (19:4)
Thus you shall say to the children of Israel: "You have seen that I have spoken with you from heaven." (20:18)
The phrase "You have seen" used to begin a speech is quite rare in Tanach. Besides these two verses, it is used once each by Moshe and Yehoshua - each time to introduce a covenant with God made before their deaths - and once by Yirmiyahu. So its appearance twice in succession is somewhat striking.
The first instance (19:4) refers to the exodus from Egypt, and comes to introduce the revelation at Sinai.
The second instance (20:18) refers to the revelation at Sinai, and comes to introduce the commandments in parshat Mishpatim (and the last few verses of Yitro).
Seeing as two of the other three uses of this phrase introduce the making of covenants, it is not surprising that the same is true here. The revelation at Sinai is called a covenant (Devarim 5:2), and the commandments in Mishpatim are called "the book of the covenant" (Shemot 24:7).
Moreover, we learn that the events in question are not independent of each other, but rather form a linear progression. The exodus from Egypt created a sort of relationship between God and Israel. But it then had to be made explicit by the acceptance of the Ten Commandments. Even that was not enough, and the covenant had to be more fully fleshed out, with a long list of the laws we will keep, and the rewards we will get for it.
That's all I have to say about the similarity between these two phrases. Now, a few words on the difference between them, as interpreted by the midrash.
There is one noticeable difference: the audience. The first phrase is spoken to both "the house of Jacob" and "the children of Israel". The second is only spoken to the latter.
On a pshat level you might say that "the house of Jacob" and "the children of Israel" mean the same thing, and the first verse uses both for some stylistic reason, perhaps to provide extra formality. But the midrash cannot accept such a "fuzzy" answer. In midrash, every word of the verse should add something meaningful and definite.
So therefore, the midrash (quoted by Rashi) says that "the house of Jacob" means the women, and "the children of Israel" means the men. I had always thought this identification was for linguistic reasons: "bnei yisrael" can mean either "children" of Israel or simply "sons" of Israel, while "the house" is a place where women were likely to be found.
But now, we can add a structural reason for this identification. (Alas, you will see, it is no more politically correct than the linguistic one.) It stands to reason that women were equal participants in accepting the Ten Commandments and the basic commitment to Jewish faith. But since they are not commanded to learn Torah to the same extent as men, perhaps the numerous halachic details of parshat Mishpatim are not directly relevant to them. Therefore, the midrash may be thinking, women are mentioned as "the house of Jacob" in the introduction to the Ten Commandments, but not in the introduction to Mishpatim.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Monday, December 23, 2013
On choosing your wife
Yaakov and Moshe married country girls (shepherdesses). They ended up wandering around constantly for the rest of their lives.
Yitzchak married a city girl (Haran). He ended up living in one place for the rest of his life (the Negev).
In short: choose your wife carefully.
Yitzchak married a city girl (Haran). He ended up living in one place for the rest of his life (the Negev).
In short: choose your wife carefully.
Friday, December 20, 2013
Thoughts on Shemot
[Moshe] went out the second day, and, behold, two Hebrew men were fighting together; and he said to the evil one/agressor: "Why are you hitting your fellow?" He said: "Who made you a ruler and a judge over us? Do you intend to kill me, like you killed the Egyptian?" (2:13-14)
According to the midrash quoted in Rashi, these two men were Datan and Aviram, later known to us from their rebellion in Sefer Bamidbar.
At first, this identification seems extremely arbitrary. Obviously the midrash likes to say that anonymous characters were actually individuals named elsewhere (the refugee who reported to Avraham was Og Melech Habashan; the "man" directing Yosef to Dotan was the angel Gavriel). But just because one pair of people appears here and another in Bamidbar, is that really enough to equate the pairs?
In fact, there is a quite interesting parallel between this story and what Datan and Aviram do later. Let's list the ways in which this episode parallels later events.
The remaining three are less obvious. But each one is an elegant comparison in its own way. Put them all together, and a clear thematic resonance is apparent. We'll never know if the two men were in fact Datan and Aviram. But we do know that this episode was similar to Datan and Aviram's story in many ways.
[See also Nedarim 64b which suggests a linguistic connection between "nitzim" (here) and "nitzavim" (Bamidbar 16:27). But I find it hard to believe this is the only source of the midrash.]
According to the midrash quoted in Rashi, these two men were Datan and Aviram, later known to us from their rebellion in Sefer Bamidbar.
At first, this identification seems extremely arbitrary. Obviously the midrash likes to say that anonymous characters were actually individuals named elsewhere (the refugee who reported to Avraham was Og Melech Habashan; the "man" directing Yosef to Dotan was the angel Gavriel). But just because one pair of people appears here and another in Bamidbar, is that really enough to equate the pairs?
In fact, there is a quite interesting parallel between this story and what Datan and Aviram do later. Let's list the ways in which this episode parallels later events.
- One of the men here is called "evil", and the other may be too. Datan and Aviram were also an evil pair. (OK, this one is trivial.)
- The men question whether Moshe is their ruler and judge. Indeed, Moshe later became the ruler and judge of the Jewish people, and Datan and Aviram (among others) questioned this authority.
- The man accuses Moshe of wanting to kill him, just as he killed the Egyptian. This parallels the plagues (in which Moshe did indirectly kill many Egyptians), as well as the complaint of Datan and Aviram (and others) that Moshe intended to kill the Jewish people in the desert.
- Somebody tattled about Moshe's killing of the Egyptian, forcing Moshe to flee to Midian. This reminds me of the rebels against Moshe in the desert, who frequently employed slander in their cause. The most obvious example is the spies' description of the land. Also, Datan and Aviram accuse Moshe of "rul[ing] over" the people (Bamidbar 16:13). What exactly this implies is unclear, but Moshe's protest in the next verse ("I have not taken even one of their donkeys, nor have I done wrong to any of them") might mean that Datan/Aviram falsely accused him abusing power, by confiscating property from the people.
The remaining three are less obvious. But each one is an elegant comparison in its own way. Put them all together, and a clear thematic resonance is apparent. We'll never know if the two men were in fact Datan and Aviram. But we do know that this episode was similar to Datan and Aviram's story in many ways.
[See also Nedarim 64b which suggests a linguistic connection between "nitzim" (here) and "nitzavim" (Bamidbar 16:27). But I find it hard to believe this is the only source of the midrash.]
Saturday, October 26, 2013
After these events
It came to pass after these events, that God tested Avraham, and said to him "Avraham", and he said "Here I am". (Breishit 22:1)
According to my hopefully complete search, the phrase "after these events" (אחר הדברים האלה or a variant) appears twelve times in Tanach (Breishit 15:1, 22:1, 22:20, 39:7, 40:1, 48:1, Yehoshua 24:29, Melachim Alef 13:33, 17:17, 21:1, Esther 3:1, Ezra 7:1). In general, its usage is pretty clear. It introduces an event that is not an obvious or immediate consequence of the previous event, but the two events fit together as part of the overall story arc. For example, after Avraham defeated the four great kings via a surprise ambush, God appeared to him to promise protection (15:1). And after Yosef became the leading slave in Potifar's household, Potifar's wife developed an attraction for him and propositioned him (39:7).
As I see it, there is only one case which seems to violate this pattern, and that is the first verse of the Akedah passage. Exactly which events before the Akedah is the verse referring to - events which should be somewhat distant in time, and nevertheless thematically connected?
Let's look at several of the stories that precede the Akedah, numbered by chapter, and see if they can explain this role. Our criteria should be that the story is close to the Akedah ("these events" would seem to refer to the immediately preceding events), and that the the Akedah has a logical connection to it.
18-19: Angels visit Avraham; then proceed to Sedom, rescue Lot, and destroy the cities.
20: Avimelech takes and returns Sarah
21a: Hagar and Yishmael are expelled
21b: Avraham and Avimelech make a treaty
22: Akedah
Chapter 21, story b
Rashbam discusses the phrase "after these events" here, taking the same basic approach that I do, and says that the event in question is 21b. Since Avraham had been promised the entire land of Israel, he should not have made a treaty that would effectively cede part of it to Avimelech's descendants. This was a sin, and the pain Avraham must have felt while preparing to sacrifice Yitzchak was the resulting punishment.
This is quite a good answer. It involves the immediately preceding event to the Akedah - a great advantage. It also explains well the delicate conditions in which the phrase "after these events" can be used - the events must be connected enough that they are linked, but not connected enough (temporally or naturally) that they are one story. But this answer is not perfect.
For one thing, it is not absolutely clear that the treaty was a sin. Avraham's inheritance was generations away (after a necessary exile). Who knew if Avimelech's descendants would still be around then, and even if they were, perhaps they could convert or otherwise integrate into the Jewish people.
For another thing, it's not at all clear that the Akedah was a punishment. Avraham's immediate suffering in the Akedah ended with a promise of great reward, a promise that presumably outweighed the suffering. If the Akedah as a whole was good for Avraham, how could it be a punishment? And why would he only receive the chance to merit the promise after sinning? Perhaps if the promise were simply a restoration of previous promises which had been nullified through Avraham's sin, but if so why does it go beyond them to swear (for the first time) that the promise would come true? And Avraham only suffered in the Akedah because he was willing to sacrifice his son - it seems awkward that if he rejected the command he wouldn't have suffered at all.
Also, if the Akedah were a punishment for 21b in particular, you might the Akedah to allude to 21b. But it contains no reference to the land, either in its command or in the eventual reward. The latter is striking especially because many other Patriarchal blessings do mention the land. This blessing promises Avraham numerous offspring (logical, since he showed his willingness to sacrifice his offspring), and adds that "all the nations of the earth shall be blessed through your offspring" - which if anything could be in the same spirit as the treaty with Avimelech.
These questions are not insoluble, but they do provide motivation to search for other possible answers.
Chapters 18,19,20
If I remember correctly, some sources (I don't remember which) say the Akedah is a punishment for chapter 20. The events in Avraham's life can be divided into the clearly moral and God-fearing, and the questionably so. In the latter category, chapter 20 is perhaps the most questionable. Avraham described Sarah as his sister, leading Avimelech to take or abduct her, even though he already knew (from Egypt) that this description could lead to tragedy. Avraham says he did this because "I said there was no fear of God in this place" (20:11), but this possibility is contradicted when God appears to Avimelech and "the people feared greatly" (20:8). There could certainly be a sin here. Whether it is a greater sin than 21b, or more thematically related to the Akedah, is up for debate. But textually, chapter 20 is much further from the Akedah than 21b, which makes it less likely, all things being equal. And if you don't think the Akedah is a punishment, you'd have problems with this explanation too.
I think Chapters 18 and 19, and likely any earlier chapter, can be excluded right off the bat. Textually they are very far from the Akedah, and there is no clear thematic connection - not even any obvious sins by Avraham whose punishment might not be immediate.
Chapter 21, story a - Rashi
First of all: While this story does not immediately precede the Akedah, there is a rather good basis for connecting it anyway. This is because story 21b opens with "And it was, AT THAT TIME" - indicating that 21a and 21b are roughly simultaneous, despite their unrelated subjects. This is further strengthened by the general way Breishit tells of Avraham's life, in which the subjects of stories tend to alternate - quite elegantly in my opinion - for example the two Avimelech stories which are separated by 21a. Similarly, the Akedah comes two stories after 21a.
Now to Rashi's opinion. Rashi, based on Chazal, identifies 21a as the "events" to which the Akedah is linked. He suggests two possible narratives for how this occured:
1) At Yitzchak's weaning party, Avraham ate and drank, but is not recorded as having offered to sacrifices to God (as sometimes happens in other festive meals in Tanach, like Shemot 18:12). The "accuser" (Satan) noted this apparent lacking, to which God responded that Avraham would even sacrifice Yitzchak, subject of the party, if asked.
2) Yishmael boasted that he was circumcised at age 13 - more painful than Yitzchak's circumcision as a baby. To which Yitzchak responded he would even sacrifice his entire body, if asked.
In each case, God/Yitzchak then had the chance to prove their statement, through the Akedah.
This avoids the possible difficulties in saying the Akedah was a punishment. Of course, it opens up new questions as to what the purpose of the Akedah was - but the philosophical issues involved are too broad for this post. In any case, Rashi's approach works fine as midrash - inventing events that are not in the text in order to enbody broader philosophical considerations. But because those events are not in the text, it suffers on the level of pshat.
Chapter 21 - my ideas
I was recently thinking about what "after these events" could refer to, and I came up with two more ideas, one from 21a and one from 21b. Whether they are more or less convincing than the above suggestions, readers can judge for themselves.
In 21a, Sarah insists on expelling Hagar and Yishmael. Avraham is unhappy at this, but God tells him to do so, and he obeys.
The Akedah opens with the command to sacrifice "your son, your only son". This description is much more true after Yishmael has been banished from Avraham's life - one would expect never to return. The Akedah happens after Yitzchak has effectively become the only son. Drawing a connection to that event emphasizes the difficulty of the Akedah. Not only is it more emotionally difficult to lose your "only" son, but a major philosophical challenge of the Akedah is highlighted: how can the "only" son be killed before begetting the great multitude that God promised through him?
In 21b, we see a different angle.
The two Avraham/Avimelech stories have similarities - for example, in each Avimelech is morally blameless despite having taken Avraham's wife or well. But the difference are more striking. When Avraham first met Avimelech, he was an insecure nomad who roamed from place to place, each time lying about Sarah to preserve his own life. Now, Avraham lives in one place for many years (21:34), and is so successful enough that Avimelech says "God is with you in everything you do" (21:22). Then, Avraham was a guest of Avimelech; now Avimelech travels to ask favors from Avraham. Then, Avimelech received prophecy and demonstrated fear of God; now God is with Avraham. Avraham has spent much of his life wandering and worrying. From now on, we will see, he lives in stability and material comfort. And after 21a, he finally has a son through Sarah. In 21b, it appears as if Avraham's difficulties in life are over, and God's hashgacha pratit over him can be taken for granted.
Perhaps it is appropriate that the Akedah command comes at this moment. The incongruity of the command - morally and emotionally - is highlighted by the circumstances Avraham reaches in 21b, which otherwise seem to be "happily ever after". If Avraham were suffering then we could see the Akedah as yet one more inexplicable example of "hester panim". Only when everything else seems to make sense can we be shocked by the one command that cannot be understood.
According to my hopefully complete search, the phrase "after these events" (אחר הדברים האלה or a variant) appears twelve times in Tanach (Breishit 15:1, 22:1, 22:20, 39:7, 40:1, 48:1, Yehoshua 24:29, Melachim Alef 13:33, 17:17, 21:1, Esther 3:1, Ezra 7:1). In general, its usage is pretty clear. It introduces an event that is not an obvious or immediate consequence of the previous event, but the two events fit together as part of the overall story arc. For example, after Avraham defeated the four great kings via a surprise ambush, God appeared to him to promise protection (15:1). And after Yosef became the leading slave in Potifar's household, Potifar's wife developed an attraction for him and propositioned him (39:7).
As I see it, there is only one case which seems to violate this pattern, and that is the first verse of the Akedah passage. Exactly which events before the Akedah is the verse referring to - events which should be somewhat distant in time, and nevertheless thematically connected?
Let's look at several of the stories that precede the Akedah, numbered by chapter, and see if they can explain this role. Our criteria should be that the story is close to the Akedah ("these events" would seem to refer to the immediately preceding events), and that the the Akedah has a logical connection to it.
18-19: Angels visit Avraham; then proceed to Sedom, rescue Lot, and destroy the cities.
20: Avimelech takes and returns Sarah
21a: Hagar and Yishmael are expelled
21b: Avraham and Avimelech make a treaty
22: Akedah
Chapter 21, story b
Rashbam discusses the phrase "after these events" here, taking the same basic approach that I do, and says that the event in question is 21b. Since Avraham had been promised the entire land of Israel, he should not have made a treaty that would effectively cede part of it to Avimelech's descendants. This was a sin, and the pain Avraham must have felt while preparing to sacrifice Yitzchak was the resulting punishment.
This is quite a good answer. It involves the immediately preceding event to the Akedah - a great advantage. It also explains well the delicate conditions in which the phrase "after these events" can be used - the events must be connected enough that they are linked, but not connected enough (temporally or naturally) that they are one story. But this answer is not perfect.
For one thing, it is not absolutely clear that the treaty was a sin. Avraham's inheritance was generations away (after a necessary exile). Who knew if Avimelech's descendants would still be around then, and even if they were, perhaps they could convert or otherwise integrate into the Jewish people.
For another thing, it's not at all clear that the Akedah was a punishment. Avraham's immediate suffering in the Akedah ended with a promise of great reward, a promise that presumably outweighed the suffering. If the Akedah as a whole was good for Avraham, how could it be a punishment? And why would he only receive the chance to merit the promise after sinning? Perhaps if the promise were simply a restoration of previous promises which had been nullified through Avraham's sin, but if so why does it go beyond them to swear (for the first time) that the promise would come true? And Avraham only suffered in the Akedah because he was willing to sacrifice his son - it seems awkward that if he rejected the command he wouldn't have suffered at all.
Also, if the Akedah were a punishment for 21b in particular, you might the Akedah to allude to 21b. But it contains no reference to the land, either in its command or in the eventual reward. The latter is striking especially because many other Patriarchal blessings do mention the land. This blessing promises Avraham numerous offspring (logical, since he showed his willingness to sacrifice his offspring), and adds that "all the nations of the earth shall be blessed through your offspring" - which if anything could be in the same spirit as the treaty with Avimelech.
These questions are not insoluble, but they do provide motivation to search for other possible answers.
Chapters 18,19,20
If I remember correctly, some sources (I don't remember which) say the Akedah is a punishment for chapter 20. The events in Avraham's life can be divided into the clearly moral and God-fearing, and the questionably so. In the latter category, chapter 20 is perhaps the most questionable. Avraham described Sarah as his sister, leading Avimelech to take or abduct her, even though he already knew (from Egypt) that this description could lead to tragedy. Avraham says he did this because "I said there was no fear of God in this place" (20:11), but this possibility is contradicted when God appears to Avimelech and "the people feared greatly" (20:8). There could certainly be a sin here. Whether it is a greater sin than 21b, or more thematically related to the Akedah, is up for debate. But textually, chapter 20 is much further from the Akedah than 21b, which makes it less likely, all things being equal. And if you don't think the Akedah is a punishment, you'd have problems with this explanation too.
I think Chapters 18 and 19, and likely any earlier chapter, can be excluded right off the bat. Textually they are very far from the Akedah, and there is no clear thematic connection - not even any obvious sins by Avraham whose punishment might not be immediate.
Chapter 21, story a - Rashi
First of all: While this story does not immediately precede the Akedah, there is a rather good basis for connecting it anyway. This is because story 21b opens with "And it was, AT THAT TIME" - indicating that 21a and 21b are roughly simultaneous, despite their unrelated subjects. This is further strengthened by the general way Breishit tells of Avraham's life, in which the subjects of stories tend to alternate - quite elegantly in my opinion - for example the two Avimelech stories which are separated by 21a. Similarly, the Akedah comes two stories after 21a.
Now to Rashi's opinion. Rashi, based on Chazal, identifies 21a as the "events" to which the Akedah is linked. He suggests two possible narratives for how this occured:
1) At Yitzchak's weaning party, Avraham ate and drank, but is not recorded as having offered to sacrifices to God (as sometimes happens in other festive meals in Tanach, like Shemot 18:12). The "accuser" (Satan) noted this apparent lacking, to which God responded that Avraham would even sacrifice Yitzchak, subject of the party, if asked.
2) Yishmael boasted that he was circumcised at age 13 - more painful than Yitzchak's circumcision as a baby. To which Yitzchak responded he would even sacrifice his entire body, if asked.
In each case, God/Yitzchak then had the chance to prove their statement, through the Akedah.
This avoids the possible difficulties in saying the Akedah was a punishment. Of course, it opens up new questions as to what the purpose of the Akedah was - but the philosophical issues involved are too broad for this post. In any case, Rashi's approach works fine as midrash - inventing events that are not in the text in order to enbody broader philosophical considerations. But because those events are not in the text, it suffers on the level of pshat.
Chapter 21 - my ideas
I was recently thinking about what "after these events" could refer to, and I came up with two more ideas, one from 21a and one from 21b. Whether they are more or less convincing than the above suggestions, readers can judge for themselves.
In 21a, Sarah insists on expelling Hagar and Yishmael. Avraham is unhappy at this, but God tells him to do so, and he obeys.
The Akedah opens with the command to sacrifice "your son, your only son". This description is much more true after Yishmael has been banished from Avraham's life - one would expect never to return. The Akedah happens after Yitzchak has effectively become the only son. Drawing a connection to that event emphasizes the difficulty of the Akedah. Not only is it more emotionally difficult to lose your "only" son, but a major philosophical challenge of the Akedah is highlighted: how can the "only" son be killed before begetting the great multitude that God promised through him?
In 21b, we see a different angle.
The two Avraham/Avimelech stories have similarities - for example, in each Avimelech is morally blameless despite having taken Avraham's wife or well. But the difference are more striking. When Avraham first met Avimelech, he was an insecure nomad who roamed from place to place, each time lying about Sarah to preserve his own life. Now, Avraham lives in one place for many years (21:34), and is so successful enough that Avimelech says "God is with you in everything you do" (21:22). Then, Avraham was a guest of Avimelech; now Avimelech travels to ask favors from Avraham. Then, Avimelech received prophecy and demonstrated fear of God; now God is with Avraham. Avraham has spent much of his life wandering and worrying. From now on, we will see, he lives in stability and material comfort. And after 21a, he finally has a son through Sarah. In 21b, it appears as if Avraham's difficulties in life are over, and God's hashgacha pratit over him can be taken for granted.
Perhaps it is appropriate that the Akedah command comes at this moment. The incongruity of the command - morally and emotionally - is highlighted by the circumstances Avraham reaches in 21b, which otherwise seem to be "happily ever after". If Avraham were suffering then we could see the Akedah as yet one more inexplicable example of "hester panim". Only when everything else seems to make sense can we be shocked by the one command that cannot be understood.
Sunday, September 08, 2013
Greatness and the Evil Inclination
Abayei heard a certain man say to a certain woman: "Let us go on our way". [Abayei] said: I will go and prevent them from committing a sin [together]. He went after them three parasangs in the field [a long distance, to an isolated place]. When they parted from each other, he heard them saying "Our company is pleasant but the way is long." Abayei said: "If it were me, I could not have restrained myself." He went and leaned in anguish against a doorpost, until a certain elder came and taught: "The greater the man, the greater the Evil Inclination" (כל הגדול מחבירו יצרו גדול הימנו). (Sukkah 52a)
It is surprising to hear that a great Torah scholar like Abayei is more, not less, likely to commit a severe sexual sin than the man he followed. Isn't Torah study, and Torah commitment in general, supposed to refine your character? Doesn't the same page of gemara (52b) say that if you encounter the Evil Inclination, you should "drag it to the beit midrash" in order to overcome it?
Therefore, I wonder if the "greatness" which is said to augment your Evil Inclination is social rather than spiritual.
Spiritual leaders as diverse as King David, Martin Luther King, and Shlomo Carlebach have been known to commit serious sexual crimes. It is hard to see this a function of their spiritual inclinations, but easy to see it as a function of their being respected leaders. As talented charismatic high-status men, such leaders can easily meet, attract, and seduce many women. As holders of communal authority, they can arrange for their affairs to be discrete, and silence those who would publicize or punish their crimes later on. If an accusation is ever made against them, their word will be trusted over that of their accusers. We should hope that such leaders have fewer affairs than similar secular leaders (JFK and Clinton come to mind), but not be surprised if they have more affairs than the average religious man.
Abayei, too, was a respected leader. He was more capable of getting away with sexual crimes than was the average man. This would make his challenge harder than theirs, even if in other respects his character was as good as theirs or better.
It is surprising to hear that a great Torah scholar like Abayei is more, not less, likely to commit a severe sexual sin than the man he followed. Isn't Torah study, and Torah commitment in general, supposed to refine your character? Doesn't the same page of gemara (52b) say that if you encounter the Evil Inclination, you should "drag it to the beit midrash" in order to overcome it?
Therefore, I wonder if the "greatness" which is said to augment your Evil Inclination is social rather than spiritual.
Spiritual leaders as diverse as King David, Martin Luther King, and Shlomo Carlebach have been known to commit serious sexual crimes. It is hard to see this a function of their spiritual inclinations, but easy to see it as a function of their being respected leaders. As talented charismatic high-status men, such leaders can easily meet, attract, and seduce many women. As holders of communal authority, they can arrange for their affairs to be discrete, and silence those who would publicize or punish their crimes later on. If an accusation is ever made against them, their word will be trusted over that of their accusers. We should hope that such leaders have fewer affairs than similar secular leaders (JFK and Clinton come to mind), but not be surprised if they have more affairs than the average religious man.
Abayei, too, was a respected leader. He was more capable of getting away with sexual crimes than was the average man. This would make his challenge harder than theirs, even if in other respects his character was as good as theirs or better.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Israel and Israeliness
וַיֹּאמֶר ה' אֶל-מֹשֶׁה: עֲלֵה אֶל הַר הָעֲבָרִים הַזֶּה, וּרְאֵה אֶת הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר נָתַתִּי לִבְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל. וְרָאִיתָה אֹתָהּ, וְנֶאֱסַפְתָּ אֶל עַמֶּיךָ גַּם אָתָּה, כַּאֲשֶׁר נֶאֱסַף אַהֲרֹן אָחִיךָ. כַּאֲשֶׁר מְרִיתֶם פִּי בְּמִדְבַּר צִן, בִּמְרִיבַת הָעֵדָה, לְהַקְדִּישֵׁנִי בַמַּיִם לְעֵינֵיהֶם: הֵם מֵי מְרִיבַת קָדֵשׁ מִדְבַּר צִן.
וַיְדַבֵּר מֹשֶׁה אֶל ה' לֵאמֹר: יִפְקֹד ה' אֱלֹהֵי הָרוּחֹת לְכָל בָּשָׂר, אִישׁ עַל הָעֵדָה. אֲשֶׁר יֵצֵא לִפְנֵיהֶם, וַאֲשֶׁר יָבֹא לִפְנֵיהֶם, וַאֲשֶׁר יוֹצִיאֵם, וַאֲשֶׁר יְבִיאֵם; וְלֹא תִהְיֶה עֲדַת ה', כַּצֹּאן אֲשֶׁר אֵין לָהֶם רֹעֶה.
(במדבר כז יב-יז)
The phrase "vaydaber hashem el moshe lemor" is common throughout the Torah. Here, I believe, is the only time we have the reverse phrasing: "vaydaber moshe el hashem lemor". This is noteworthy because "vaydaber" is generally understood to mean a harsh statement or a command (see for example Shemot 6:2 and Bamidbar 32:25-27). It makes sense for God to command human beings. But since when do human beings command God?
Let us explain this in terms of the larger context. Moshe's behavior is a perfect example of what we would now call Israeli chutzpah. He makes harsh demands of his superior - with the understanding that his proposals are for the good of the superior rather than himself, and that his honesty and directness indicate respect for a superior who is capable of accepting criticism.
As we see, Moshe was not permitted to enter the land of Israel. But perhaps, as a consolation prize, he was allowed to become an Israeli. :)
וַיְדַבֵּר מֹשֶׁה אֶל ה' לֵאמֹר: יִפְקֹד ה' אֱלֹהֵי הָרוּחֹת לְכָל בָּשָׂר, אִישׁ עַל הָעֵדָה. אֲשֶׁר יֵצֵא לִפְנֵיהֶם, וַאֲשֶׁר יָבֹא לִפְנֵיהֶם, וַאֲשֶׁר יוֹצִיאֵם, וַאֲשֶׁר יְבִיאֵם; וְלֹא תִהְיֶה עֲדַת ה', כַּצֹּאן אֲשֶׁר אֵין לָהֶם רֹעֶה.
(במדבר כז יב-יז)
The phrase "vaydaber hashem el moshe lemor" is common throughout the Torah. Here, I believe, is the only time we have the reverse phrasing: "vaydaber moshe el hashem lemor". This is noteworthy because "vaydaber" is generally understood to mean a harsh statement or a command (see for example Shemot 6:2 and Bamidbar 32:25-27). It makes sense for God to command human beings. But since when do human beings command God?
Let us explain this in terms of the larger context. Moshe's behavior is a perfect example of what we would now call Israeli chutzpah. He makes harsh demands of his superior - with the understanding that his proposals are for the good of the superior rather than himself, and that his honesty and directness indicate respect for a superior who is capable of accepting criticism.
As we see, Moshe was not permitted to enter the land of Israel. But perhaps, as a consolation prize, he was allowed to become an Israeli. :)
Saturday, June 01, 2013
Rahav and Pesach
The following is so obvious that someone must have written it before, but a very cursory search did not find anything, so I decided to write it up myself too.
The haftarah for parshat Shelach tells of a successful spying mission - when two spies sent by Yehoshua infiltrated the city of Yericho, visited a woman named Rahav, and returned with the report that the conquest was inevitable.
In return for Rahav's help, she and her family were saved from the city's ensuing destruction. The circumstances of their protection are interesting:
The haftarah for parshat Shelach tells of a successful spying mission - when two spies sent by Yehoshua infiltrated the city of Yericho, visited a woman named Rahav, and returned with the report that the conquest was inevitable.
In return for Rahav's help, she and her family were saved from the city's ensuing destruction. The circumstances of their protection are interesting:
- Rahav was to be saved, along with whatever family members were in her house. (2:18)
- If any of them left the house, they would be killed. (2:19)
- Rahav was to put a red thread on her window to signal that the inhabitants should be protected. (2:18)
- When the spies left Rahav, to avoid their pursuers, she advised them to head for the mountain and stay there for three days. (2:16)
- The Israelites slaughtered the Pesach sacrifice - one per family. (Shemot 12:3)
- They were not to leave the house until the plague was over (12:22)
- They were to smear the (red) blood on the doorposts of their house to indicate they should be protected.
- The plague was punishment for Pharaoh's refusal to allow a three-day journey perform a sacrifice at "God's Mountain" (3:12)
Friday, October 12, 2012
The place of brachot
In the Mishna, Masechet Brachot is placed in Zeraim. But in the Shulchan Aruch, it is grouped with Shabbat and the holidays in Orach Chaim.
This reflects a different perception as to the place of brachot in our life. Grouping brachot with the holidays indicates that saying a bracha is a discrete observance which must be performed on certain occasions. Periodically you must keep shabbat, but you also know that the rest of the week cannot be shabbat.
Meanwhile, grouping brachot with zeraim indicates that saying a bracha is part of our normal life. It is not that you interrupt your farming in order to perform a religious observance (as with shabbat), but that saying the bracha is part of the farming, and gives the farming a religious character.
As part of the inexorable shift of religious practices from "natural/moral" to "ritual" over time (as circumstances change and the original rationale is left behind), brachot have changed from a natural part of our self-expression (in the Mishna) to a technical procedure that must be executed on specific occasions (in the Tur and Shulchan Aruch).
May that change someday, somehow reverse itself.
(Source for the good parts of this)
This reflects a different perception as to the place of brachot in our life. Grouping brachot with the holidays indicates that saying a bracha is a discrete observance which must be performed on certain occasions. Periodically you must keep shabbat, but you also know that the rest of the week cannot be shabbat.
Meanwhile, grouping brachot with zeraim indicates that saying a bracha is part of our normal life. It is not that you interrupt your farming in order to perform a religious observance (as with shabbat), but that saying the bracha is part of the farming, and gives the farming a religious character.
As part of the inexorable shift of religious practices from "natural/moral" to "ritual" over time (as circumstances change and the original rationale is left behind), brachot have changed from a natural part of our self-expression (in the Mishna) to a technical procedure that must be executed on specific occasions (in the Tur and Shulchan Aruch).
May that change someday, somehow reverse itself.
(Source for the good parts of this)
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Ach
"You shall celebrate on your holiday - you, your son, your daughter, your male and female slave, the Levite, the stranger, the orphan, and the widow that are within your gates. Seven days you shall have a holiday to Hashem your God in the place Hashem shall chose, Hashem your God having blessed you in all your produce and all your handiwork, and you shall be 'ach sameach' ". (Devarim 16:14-15)
The beginning and end of the above excerpt, which I have put in bold, form a popular song now sung on holidays. Of course, it is ironic what the song has done to the middle of the excerpt. The Torah made a point of INCLUDING the poor and marginalized members of society in our celebration, but the song jumps over those words, as if to EXCLUDE them! There is always the excuse that long lists of names have no rhythm and are hard to fit to a tune. Granted, but it is still quite striking how the point of the verse has been missed.
Anyway, let us switch from social to philological commentary. The verse ends with the cryptic phrase "vehayita ach sameach". What does this mean, and how does it differ from simply "vehayita sameach"?
Normally, the word "ach" means "but" - introducing a new phrase which qualifies or limits the previous phrase. Here, the word "ach" is not attached to any other phrase, but nevertheless, Chazal understood it to mean "but" in the since of limitation. Since it is never specified WHAT the limitation is, Chazal and later commentators provided a number of suggestions. Among them: 1) Shemini Atzeret may be limited in its degree of "simcha" relative to Sukkot (this assumes that the point of the verse "vehayita ach sameach" as a whole is to teach us that Shemini Atzeret also has a mitzvah of simcha). 2) Even a person without family must perform the mitzvah of simcha, though he cannot do so in the full sense described here (i.e. with sons and daughters). 3) Happiness in this world is limited, in contrast to the World to Come, where it will be unlimited.
Ramban, though, provides a completely different understanding of the phrase. In his commentary to Devarim, he suggests that "ach" is a short version of "achen", meaning "indeed". Thus the phrase means "you shall indeed be happy". It is not a limitation on the holiday happiness, but rather a intensification and expansion of the happiness. Quite the opposite of what Chazal said!
Which of these two contrasting understanding is correct? The advantages of each are clear. Chazal's understanding better fits with the normal meaning of the word "ach". But only Ramban's understanding allows for the sentence to be fully comprehensible and grammatical. Is there an possible understanding which combines both of these advantages - the comprehensibility and the correct usage of the word "ach"?
I think the answer to this question comes from another short and underrated word - "aval". The words "ach" and "aval" are both popularly understood to mean "but". But the word "aval" can also mean "indeed", as it does in Breishit 42:21. There, Yosef's brothers say to one another: "Indeed, we are guilty regarding our brother, in that we saw his distress when he begged us and we did not listen; surely his blood is now being avenged." It makes no sense for the "Indeed" at the beginning of the phrase to mean "but", since it does not come after any other phrase. However, in other places, including modern Hebrew, "aval" does mean "but".
We are forced then to say that "aval" can mean both "indeed" and "but". Perhaps, then, the same is true of "ach"? This allows for an elegant answer to our original question. Chazal are correct that "ach" usually means to take something away, while Ramban is right that in this instance we are commanded to "indeed" be happy.
Indeed (no pun intended), the use of one word for both "but" and "indeed" is not so strange. The roles of those two words in language are not in fact so different. Both typically come after a complete sentence, and add onto the sentence by emphasizing a previously ignored but quite relevant fact. With "but" the new fact serves to limit the previous sentence; with "indeed" it strengthens the previous sentence. This is a difference, but (no pun intended) the correct meaning of the two is easily inferred from context, so there is little confusion in using the same word for both.
Hopefully now we have solved the puzzle of the well-known phrase "vehayita ach sameach". And I'm sure you'll agree with me that my limiting myself to but two unintended puns in this post was impressive, indeed.
The beginning and end of the above excerpt, which I have put in bold, form a popular song now sung on holidays. Of course, it is ironic what the song has done to the middle of the excerpt. The Torah made a point of INCLUDING the poor and marginalized members of society in our celebration, but the song jumps over those words, as if to EXCLUDE them! There is always the excuse that long lists of names have no rhythm and are hard to fit to a tune. Granted, but it is still quite striking how the point of the verse has been missed.
Anyway, let us switch from social to philological commentary. The verse ends with the cryptic phrase "vehayita ach sameach". What does this mean, and how does it differ from simply "vehayita sameach"?
Normally, the word "ach" means "but" - introducing a new phrase which qualifies or limits the previous phrase. Here, the word "ach" is not attached to any other phrase, but nevertheless, Chazal understood it to mean "but" in the since of limitation. Since it is never specified WHAT the limitation is, Chazal and later commentators provided a number of suggestions. Among them: 1) Shemini Atzeret may be limited in its degree of "simcha" relative to Sukkot (this assumes that the point of the verse "vehayita ach sameach" as a whole is to teach us that Shemini Atzeret also has a mitzvah of simcha). 2) Even a person without family must perform the mitzvah of simcha, though he cannot do so in the full sense described here (i.e. with sons and daughters). 3) Happiness in this world is limited, in contrast to the World to Come, where it will be unlimited.
Ramban, though, provides a completely different understanding of the phrase. In his commentary to Devarim, he suggests that "ach" is a short version of "achen", meaning "indeed". Thus the phrase means "you shall indeed be happy". It is not a limitation on the holiday happiness, but rather a intensification and expansion of the happiness. Quite the opposite of what Chazal said!
Which of these two contrasting understanding is correct? The advantages of each are clear. Chazal's understanding better fits with the normal meaning of the word "ach". But only Ramban's understanding allows for the sentence to be fully comprehensible and grammatical. Is there an possible understanding which combines both of these advantages - the comprehensibility and the correct usage of the word "ach"?
I think the answer to this question comes from another short and underrated word - "aval". The words "ach" and "aval" are both popularly understood to mean "but". But the word "aval" can also mean "indeed", as it does in Breishit 42:21. There, Yosef's brothers say to one another: "Indeed, we are guilty regarding our brother, in that we saw his distress when he begged us and we did not listen; surely his blood is now being avenged." It makes no sense for the "Indeed" at the beginning of the phrase to mean "but", since it does not come after any other phrase. However, in other places, including modern Hebrew, "aval" does mean "but".
We are forced then to say that "aval" can mean both "indeed" and "but". Perhaps, then, the same is true of "ach"? This allows for an elegant answer to our original question. Chazal are correct that "ach" usually means to take something away, while Ramban is right that in this instance we are commanded to "indeed" be happy.
Indeed (no pun intended), the use of one word for both "but" and "indeed" is not so strange. The roles of those two words in language are not in fact so different. Both typically come after a complete sentence, and add onto the sentence by emphasizing a previously ignored but quite relevant fact. With "but" the new fact serves to limit the previous sentence; with "indeed" it strengthens the previous sentence. This is a difference, but (no pun intended) the correct meaning of the two is easily inferred from context, so there is little confusion in using the same word for both.
Hopefully now we have solved the puzzle of the well-known phrase "vehayita ach sameach". And I'm sure you'll agree with me that my limiting myself to but two unintended puns in this post was impressive, indeed.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Blog
Wow. It's been a long time since I've posted here. Don't worry though. I don't know if I'll ever resume posting here on a regular basis, but I am currently working on several bigger and better projects, some of which draw on the experience I received while writing this blog.
It's interesting how the rise and fall of this blog closely follows the rise and fall of the word "blog" in Google search results. But don't worry, I have NOT opened an account with Tumblr. In fact I didn't even know what it was until looking it up after seeing the aformentioned cartoon. In fact, even after looking it up I'm still not totally sure what Tumblr is.
It's interesting how the rise and fall of this blog closely follows the rise and fall of the word "blog" in Google search results. But don't worry, I have NOT opened an account with Tumblr. In fact I didn't even know what it was until looking it up after seeing the aformentioned cartoon. In fact, even after looking it up I'm still not totally sure what Tumblr is.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Thoughts on Vayeshev
1. The original post
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Israel, yea, for four, I will not reverse it: because they sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of shoes... (Amos 2:6)
It is commonly assumed that the Vayeshev haftarah (previously discussed here) is chosen because of this verse, which is taken to refer to the sale of Yosef.
Just today I thought of a compelling reason why Yosef’s sale CANNOT be what Amos had in mind when he said this prophecy. That does not mean the haftarah is a bad choice: Yosef WAS a righteous person (at least after the sale, from what we see), who WAS sold for silver, and it WAS a transgression, and it is fitting to recall this after reading the story of what happened to Yosef. But at the same time, if we want to understand Amos, we should be aware that this is not what Amos had in mind.
To see why, let us look at a selection of the verses
in Amos preceding the haftarah:
"For thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Damascus, yea, for four, I will not reverse it...
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Gaza, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Tyre, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Edom, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of the children of Ammon, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Moab, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Judah, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…"
This is a list of lots of different ancient Middle Eastern nations. After each one, it lists a few "war crimes" or other various sins that the nations are known to have committed, and then describes the punishment God will visit upon them as a result.
The last two nations in this list are Judah and Israel. Amos lived in the period of the divided kingdom, when "Judah" consisted of the tribes of Judah, Binyamin, Shimon, and perhaps part of Dan.
Meanwhile "Israel" consisted of the remaining tribes in the north. This meant the tribes of Gad and Reuven near the Dead Sea; the tribes of Zevulun, Yissachar, Naftali, Dan, and Asher in the Galilee; and Efraim and Menashe taking up the whole coastal plain, Shomron, and almost all of Transjordan. The Galilee tribes generally did an incomplete job of conquering the Canaanites, while Gad and Reuven were small and peripheral. Efraim and Menashe took up about half the area of the whole kingdom – moreover, the more central, secure, and powerful half of the kingdom. It is no surprise that the entire northern kingdom is sometimes referred to poetically as "Efraim" (as in "Haben yakir li efraim"), or as "Yosef" (Yechezkel 37) – Yosef of course being the father of both Efraim and Menasheh.
When the prophet Amos, in our haftarah, criticized the nation of "Israel" for selling the righteous, we may assume he was foremost referring to Efraim and Menasheh, who dominated the kingdom of Israel. But it would be quite strange to blame the sale of Yosef on the tribes of Efraim and Menasheh, who were themselves descendants of Yosef. That would mean blaming the victim (or his descendants) rather than the perpetrators, which I think is unreasonable, so Amos must be talking about a crime or crimes involving someone else.
2. An addition, made two years later (November 2013)
As you might expect, I end up discussing this idea at the same time each year. This time it was with my Friday night host - AS. But afterwards I felt something was incomplete. The verse says that Israelites "sell the righteous for silver". Why specify that they sell the righteous (of whom Yosef HaTzadik would be a great example)? Isn't it wrong to sell any human being, righteous or not?
The answer is no. Selling an evil person into (temporary) slavery was pretty common and entirely justified - if they were a thief (Shemot 22:2). The verse uses the word "tzadik" to indicate that they also sold innocent people into slavery, which is a very serious crime (Shemot 21:16). The word "tzadik" here means "innocent" (as in Devarim 25:1) - not "righteous" in the sense of necessarily being morally near-perfect.
Thanks to AS for helping clarify the linguistic aspects of this.
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Israel, yea, for four, I will not reverse it: because they sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of shoes... (Amos 2:6)
It is commonly assumed that the Vayeshev haftarah (previously discussed here) is chosen because of this verse, which is taken to refer to the sale of Yosef.
Just today I thought of a compelling reason why Yosef’s sale CANNOT be what Amos had in mind when he said this prophecy. That does not mean the haftarah is a bad choice: Yosef WAS a righteous person (at least after the sale, from what we see), who WAS sold for silver, and it WAS a transgression, and it is fitting to recall this after reading the story of what happened to Yosef. But at the same time, if we want to understand Amos, we should be aware that this is not what Amos had in mind.
To see why, let us look at a selection of the verses
in Amos preceding the haftarah:
"For thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Damascus, yea, for four, I will not reverse it...
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Gaza, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Tyre, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Edom, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of the children of Ammon, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Moab, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…
Thus says Hashem: For three transgressions of Judah, yea, for four, I will not reverse it…"
This is a list of lots of different ancient Middle Eastern nations. After each one, it lists a few "war crimes" or other various sins that the nations are known to have committed, and then describes the punishment God will visit upon them as a result.
The last two nations in this list are Judah and Israel. Amos lived in the period of the divided kingdom, when "Judah" consisted of the tribes of Judah, Binyamin, Shimon, and perhaps part of Dan.
Meanwhile "Israel" consisted of the remaining tribes in the north. This meant the tribes of Gad and Reuven near the Dead Sea; the tribes of Zevulun, Yissachar, Naftali, Dan, and Asher in the Galilee; and Efraim and Menashe taking up the whole coastal plain, Shomron, and almost all of Transjordan. The Galilee tribes generally did an incomplete job of conquering the Canaanites, while Gad and Reuven were small and peripheral. Efraim and Menashe took up about half the area of the whole kingdom – moreover, the more central, secure, and powerful half of the kingdom. It is no surprise that the entire northern kingdom is sometimes referred to poetically as "Efraim" (as in "Haben yakir li efraim"), or as "Yosef" (Yechezkel 37) – Yosef of course being the father of both Efraim and Menasheh.
When the prophet Amos, in our haftarah, criticized the nation of "Israel" for selling the righteous, we may assume he was foremost referring to Efraim and Menasheh, who dominated the kingdom of Israel. But it would be quite strange to blame the sale of Yosef on the tribes of Efraim and Menasheh, who were themselves descendants of Yosef. That would mean blaming the victim (or his descendants) rather than the perpetrators, which I think is unreasonable, so Amos must be talking about a crime or crimes involving someone else.
2. An addition, made two years later (November 2013)
As you might expect, I end up discussing this idea at the same time each year. This time it was with my Friday night host - AS. But afterwards I felt something was incomplete. The verse says that Israelites "sell the righteous for silver". Why specify that they sell the righteous (of whom Yosef HaTzadik would be a great example)? Isn't it wrong to sell any human being, righteous or not?
The answer is no. Selling an evil person into (temporary) slavery was pretty common and entirely justified - if they were a thief (Shemot 22:2). The verse uses the word "tzadik" to indicate that they also sold innocent people into slavery, which is a very serious crime (Shemot 21:16). The word "tzadik" here means "innocent" (as in Devarim 25:1) - not "righteous" in the sense of necessarily being morally near-perfect.
Thanks to AS for helping clarify the linguistic aspects of this.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Thoughts on Vayishlach
Shall our sister be treated like a prostitute? (34:31)
A prostitute is generally understood to be someone who takes money in return for sex. True, the word "znut" can refer to promiscuity in general, but one might still wonder whether "zonah" is the most appropriate term for an unwilling rape victim.
But if we look closer at the proposal the city offered to Yaakov's family, perhaps we can understand why Dina's case was in fact similar to prostitution, and why the rhetorical question was not just imprecise rhetoric by angry young men.
The proposal goes as follows: "Please give [Dina] to [Shechem] as a wife. And marry among us: your daughters will be given to us and our daughters you will take for yourselves. And dwell with us: the land will be before you, dwell and do business and take hold of it." (34:8-10)
Besides the part about marrying together, this proposal contains two parts: Shechem gets Dina, and Yaakov's family gets the opportunity to do business.
A trade of Dina for business opportunities does look exactly like prostitution. No wonder, then, why Yaakov's sons reply so viciously to the deal, and why they killed the entire male population, not just Shechem. They were reacting to the proposal just as much as the act of rape itself.
This logic does not mean the mass killing was necessarily correct - for one thing, Yaakov objects to it (and at the end of his life, apparently not only on practical grounds) - but it does allow us to understand where the motivation for the killing came from.
Yaakov said to his household and all who were with him: "Remove the foreign gods that are among you." (35:2)
They gave to Yaakov all the foreign gods that were in their hands, and the earrings that were in their ears, and Yaakov buried them.... (35:4)
These verses raise two questions with me. 1) Why would Yaakov's household, which one would assume to be monotheistic, be in possession of idols? 2) Yaakov asked for the destruction of idols; why did the group give up their earrings as well, which Yaakov apparently did not ask for?
I think there is a common answer to both questions. It flows from the fact that at this point, Yaakov's sons had just conquered the city of Shechem, and (34:27) taken its plunder. One would expect that that plunder included any valuable objects in the city - and idols, often made out of precious metals, would certainly seem worth taking.
The Torah's attitude toward this, though, is not approving. Speaking of the later conquest by the Israelites, the Torah says: "The idols of their gods you shall burn in fire. You shall not desire gold and silver upon them and take for yourself, lest you be ensnared in it, for it is an abomination of Hashem your God." (Devarim 7:25) One might be tempted to take gold and silver idols in order to use the gold and silver, but the Torah later prohibits this.
Perhaps, then, Yaakov's sons took whatever idols they found in Shechem. As members of a third-generation monotheistic family, it would have been obvious to them that idols were not for worshipping, but not so obvious that idols could not be melted down and used for other purposes. Perhaps, of the idols they found, they took a few of them and fashioned their gold or silver into earrings, while holding onto the remaining idols until a good use for them could be found.
Yaakov may not have known what jewelry his family wore or where it came from. But when his family was implicitly told that not only worship but use of idols was forbidden, they realized that their jewelry had to be given up along with the intact idols.
A prostitute is generally understood to be someone who takes money in return for sex. True, the word "znut" can refer to promiscuity in general, but one might still wonder whether "zonah" is the most appropriate term for an unwilling rape victim.
But if we look closer at the proposal the city offered to Yaakov's family, perhaps we can understand why Dina's case was in fact similar to prostitution, and why the rhetorical question was not just imprecise rhetoric by angry young men.
The proposal goes as follows: "Please give [Dina] to [Shechem] as a wife. And marry among us: your daughters will be given to us and our daughters you will take for yourselves. And dwell with us: the land will be before you, dwell and do business and take hold of it." (34:8-10)
Besides the part about marrying together, this proposal contains two parts: Shechem gets Dina, and Yaakov's family gets the opportunity to do business.
A trade of Dina for business opportunities does look exactly like prostitution. No wonder, then, why Yaakov's sons reply so viciously to the deal, and why they killed the entire male population, not just Shechem. They were reacting to the proposal just as much as the act of rape itself.
This logic does not mean the mass killing was necessarily correct - for one thing, Yaakov objects to it (and at the end of his life, apparently not only on practical grounds) - but it does allow us to understand where the motivation for the killing came from.
Yaakov said to his household and all who were with him: "Remove the foreign gods that are among you." (35:2)
They gave to Yaakov all the foreign gods that were in their hands, and the earrings that were in their ears, and Yaakov buried them.... (35:4)
These verses raise two questions with me. 1) Why would Yaakov's household, which one would assume to be monotheistic, be in possession of idols? 2) Yaakov asked for the destruction of idols; why did the group give up their earrings as well, which Yaakov apparently did not ask for?
I think there is a common answer to both questions. It flows from the fact that at this point, Yaakov's sons had just conquered the city of Shechem, and (34:27) taken its plunder. One would expect that that plunder included any valuable objects in the city - and idols, often made out of precious metals, would certainly seem worth taking.
The Torah's attitude toward this, though, is not approving. Speaking of the later conquest by the Israelites, the Torah says: "The idols of their gods you shall burn in fire. You shall not desire gold and silver upon them and take for yourself, lest you be ensnared in it, for it is an abomination of Hashem your God." (Devarim 7:25) One might be tempted to take gold and silver idols in order to use the gold and silver, but the Torah later prohibits this.
Perhaps, then, Yaakov's sons took whatever idols they found in Shechem. As members of a third-generation monotheistic family, it would have been obvious to them that idols were not for worshipping, but not so obvious that idols could not be melted down and used for other purposes. Perhaps, of the idols they found, they took a few of them and fashioned their gold or silver into earrings, while holding onto the remaining idols until a good use for them could be found.
Yaakov may not have known what jewelry his family wore or where it came from. But when his family was implicitly told that not only worship but use of idols was forbidden, they realized that their jewelry had to be given up along with the intact idols.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Mitzvot for the deaf and blind
Physical disability, in general, does not affect a person's obligation to keep mitzvot. Someone who must use a wheelchair, for example, is obligated in all 613 mitzvot. However, there are three kinds of disability regarding which the sources suggest that a person was not obligated in mitzvot at all.
The first category is the "shoteh" - an "insane" or otherwise mentally impaired individual who is unable to comprehend the concept of Divine commandment or understand the actions he must perform. Such a person cannot be said to be "commanded", since no command was ever made to him in a way he could understand.
The second category is the "heresh", or mute person, who is mentioned alongside the "shoteh" and children as people not obligated in mitzvot. This equation is hard to understand nowadays, but once it made sense. Typically, a person was mute as a consequence of being deaf. The deaf could not learn anything from others except by reading, and reading materials were rare before the printing press was invented. Similarly, there were no speech therapists, no sign language, and no teaching of lip reading. So deaf people, too, was not "commanded", since they had no way of hearing Divine commands. (The Biblical idiom for to "obey" is to "listen to the voice of". The deaf literally could not "listen to the voice".) Nowadays, when we do have effective ways of communicating with and teaching the deaf, I believe halachic authorities generally view the deaf as having equal obligations to hearing Jews.
The third category is the blind. According to the accepted opinion, blind Jews have exactly the same halachic obligations as everyone else (except for a few mitzvot which explicitly involve seeing). However, there are minority opinions which suggest that this might not be the case. The most interesting opinion is that of the Pri Megadim (intro to Orach Chaim part 3), who holds that according to one opinion in the gemara, the blind are obligated in negative mitzvot, but not positive mitzvot.
What is the logic behind this distinction? One possibility (see here) is that the blind do not really need to do mitzvot, but they do need to be distinguishably Jewish. And violating a negative mitzvah does more to show that one is not Jewish: if I see you eat pork then I know you violate halacha, but if I do not see you praying it is possible that you will pray at some other time in the day.
The difficulty with this understanding is that it assumes the blind are like the deaf and insane - people to whom the concept of mitzvot cannot apply, since they do not have mental capacity. But a blind person does have mental capability, can communicate normally with other people, and can learn all of the Oral Torah at the very least. So it seems easier to me to say that the blind are inherently commanded and obligated in mitzvot but exempted from some, rather than that they are inherently exempt but have a special obligation in some.
Thus I want to explain as follows. Blind people have no limitations to their mental ability. Thus, they should be obligated in mitzvot. But they do have significant limitation on their actions. For example, wherever they go they are liable to stumble on things and injure themselves. And they have difficulty locating objects in order to perform actions using those objects.
Another class of people - women - also has limitations on the set of mitzvot they must do. At certain times, due to pregnancy and raising children, women are busy and unable to spend time on other commitments. Thus, women are exempt from positive time-related mitzvot. I suggest that since blind people face larger and more constant restrictions on their actions than do women, they have a larger mitzvah exemption. Rather than being exempt from positive time-related mitzvot, perhap they should be exempt from all positive mitzvot. Meanwhile, the limitations on blind people's actions do not impair their ability to uphold negative mitzvot, since by sitting and doing nothing they do not violate any negative mitzvah. Thus, they should be obligated in negative but not positive mitzvot. That is the exact combination which the Pri Megadim suggests.
The first category is the "shoteh" - an "insane" or otherwise mentally impaired individual who is unable to comprehend the concept of Divine commandment or understand the actions he must perform. Such a person cannot be said to be "commanded", since no command was ever made to him in a way he could understand.
The second category is the "heresh", or mute person, who is mentioned alongside the "shoteh" and children as people not obligated in mitzvot. This equation is hard to understand nowadays, but once it made sense. Typically, a person was mute as a consequence of being deaf. The deaf could not learn anything from others except by reading, and reading materials were rare before the printing press was invented. Similarly, there were no speech therapists, no sign language, and no teaching of lip reading. So deaf people, too, was not "commanded", since they had no way of hearing Divine commands. (The Biblical idiom for to "obey" is to "listen to the voice of". The deaf literally could not "listen to the voice".) Nowadays, when we do have effective ways of communicating with and teaching the deaf, I believe halachic authorities generally view the deaf as having equal obligations to hearing Jews.
The third category is the blind. According to the accepted opinion, blind Jews have exactly the same halachic obligations as everyone else (except for a few mitzvot which explicitly involve seeing). However, there are minority opinions which suggest that this might not be the case. The most interesting opinion is that of the Pri Megadim (intro to Orach Chaim part 3), who holds that according to one opinion in the gemara, the blind are obligated in negative mitzvot, but not positive mitzvot.
What is the logic behind this distinction? One possibility (see here) is that the blind do not really need to do mitzvot, but they do need to be distinguishably Jewish. And violating a negative mitzvah does more to show that one is not Jewish: if I see you eat pork then I know you violate halacha, but if I do not see you praying it is possible that you will pray at some other time in the day.
The difficulty with this understanding is that it assumes the blind are like the deaf and insane - people to whom the concept of mitzvot cannot apply, since they do not have mental capacity. But a blind person does have mental capability, can communicate normally with other people, and can learn all of the Oral Torah at the very least. So it seems easier to me to say that the blind are inherently commanded and obligated in mitzvot but exempted from some, rather than that they are inherently exempt but have a special obligation in some.
Thus I want to explain as follows. Blind people have no limitations to their mental ability. Thus, they should be obligated in mitzvot. But they do have significant limitation on their actions. For example, wherever they go they are liable to stumble on things and injure themselves. And they have difficulty locating objects in order to perform actions using those objects.
Another class of people - women - also has limitations on the set of mitzvot they must do. At certain times, due to pregnancy and raising children, women are busy and unable to spend time on other commitments. Thus, women are exempt from positive time-related mitzvot. I suggest that since blind people face larger and more constant restrictions on their actions than do women, they have a larger mitzvah exemption. Rather than being exempt from positive time-related mitzvot, perhap they should be exempt from all positive mitzvot. Meanwhile, the limitations on blind people's actions do not impair their ability to uphold negative mitzvot, since by sitting and doing nothing they do not violate any negative mitzvah. Thus, they should be obligated in negative but not positive mitzvot. That is the exact combination which the Pri Megadim suggests.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Holidays and the Temple
Jewish holidays are generally distinguished by their focus on the Temple. Pesach, Sukkot, and Shavuot are occasions of obligatory pilgrimage and sacrifice, while Yom Kippur focuses on the day's special Temple service. Each holiday has special communal sacrifices, and on these days we are commanded to blow trumpets in the Temple. The holiday prayer "yaale veyavo" is recited only in those blessings - Retzeh (prayer) and Boneh Yerushalayim (birkat hamazon) - whose subject is the Temple. And so on and so on.
What, then, are we to do these days, when the Temple is destroyed? Instead of being occasions of celebration, should not holidays become days of pain, when we are directly confronted with what we have lost? Tisha Beav - now a day of mourning - will turn into a festive day once the Temple is rebuilt; wouldn't it be appropriate for holidays to be commemorated the same way?
My answer to this is no, and the explanation comes in two parts. First, to explain what the purpose of holidays is, beyond the particular rituals we can no longer perform. And second, to explain how that purpose is still fulfilled today.
First: Holidays were an opportunity for closeness with God. Of course, God is "found" in every place, and there are many opportunities for closeness unrelated to Temple. But the atmosphere of holidays, the prohibition on work, the physical closeness to "God's house", and the special rituals and celebrations, made holidays especially good opportunities for individuals to approach God. Moreover, as the entire nation celebrated together, holidays became occasions of national closeness to God.
Second: Despite the loss of the Temple, I believe we can still achieve this special holiday closeness. In the Temple, Divine closeness was achieved through certain rituals, like the Yom Kippur sacrifice with precipitated the forgiveness of our sins. Those rituals were a commandment, and the resulting closeness was the reward. We (the religious community) still want to perform these rituals, but we are prevented by circumstances from doing so. Halachically, this situation is defined as a situation of "oness". In such a situation, having done everything we are capable of doing, we are still entitled to the reward.
One may argue that this is not a situation of complete "oness", since the Temple's destruction is caused by our sins, and by repenting we could cause it to be rebuilt. This is true on one level, but false on another. The process of returning to Israel, appointing a king, rebuilding the Temple, and offering sacrifices takes a certain amount of time. We mourn all year for the Temple, because we have this time yet are not using it appropriately in order to speed up redemption. But once the holiday has begun, it is no longer possible to do all the tasks needed to rebuild the Temple. Regarding that particular holiday, we are truly in a state of "oness". We still perform whatever rituals we are capable of, and God still rewards us with His closeness as if we had performed all the other rituals as well.
What, then, are we to do these days, when the Temple is destroyed? Instead of being occasions of celebration, should not holidays become days of pain, when we are directly confronted with what we have lost? Tisha Beav - now a day of mourning - will turn into a festive day once the Temple is rebuilt; wouldn't it be appropriate for holidays to be commemorated the same way?
My answer to this is no, and the explanation comes in two parts. First, to explain what the purpose of holidays is, beyond the particular rituals we can no longer perform. And second, to explain how that purpose is still fulfilled today.
First: Holidays were an opportunity for closeness with God. Of course, God is "found" in every place, and there are many opportunities for closeness unrelated to Temple. But the atmosphere of holidays, the prohibition on work, the physical closeness to "God's house", and the special rituals and celebrations, made holidays especially good opportunities for individuals to approach God. Moreover, as the entire nation celebrated together, holidays became occasions of national closeness to God.
Second: Despite the loss of the Temple, I believe we can still achieve this special holiday closeness. In the Temple, Divine closeness was achieved through certain rituals, like the Yom Kippur sacrifice with precipitated the forgiveness of our sins. Those rituals were a commandment, and the resulting closeness was the reward. We (the religious community) still want to perform these rituals, but we are prevented by circumstances from doing so. Halachically, this situation is defined as a situation of "oness". In such a situation, having done everything we are capable of doing, we are still entitled to the reward.
One may argue that this is not a situation of complete "oness", since the Temple's destruction is caused by our sins, and by repenting we could cause it to be rebuilt. This is true on one level, but false on another. The process of returning to Israel, appointing a king, rebuilding the Temple, and offering sacrifices takes a certain amount of time. We mourn all year for the Temple, because we have this time yet are not using it appropriately in order to speed up redemption. But once the holiday has begun, it is no longer possible to do all the tasks needed to rebuild the Temple. Regarding that particular holiday, we are truly in a state of "oness". We still perform whatever rituals we are capable of, and God still rewards us with His closeness as if we had performed all the other rituals as well.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Vahashevota el levavecha
The phrase in the title appears, I believe, just twice in Tanach. Literally it means to "return [something] to your heart". "Heart" in Tanach typically refers to your personality/identity/self - including both emotions, which our culture identifies with the heart, and thoughts. Since thoughts and emotions normally come out from the heart, to "return them to the heart" means to remind and convince yourself of them - to internalize them. Perhaps a more poetic translation would be "to take them to heart".
This meaning is clear from the first occurrence of the phrase, in Devarim 4:39-40, which is well known to us from the Aleinu prayer:
וידעת היום, והשבת אל לבבך, כי ה' הוא האלקים בשמים ממעל ועל הארץ מתחת, אין עוד. ושמרת את חקיו ואת מצותיו, אשר אנכי מצוך היום, אשר ייטב לך...
We are supposed to internalize the fact that our God is the only god, and this knowledge will motivate us to keep the commandments.
The second occurrence (Devarim 30:1-2) is harder to understand.
והיה כי יבאו עליך כל-הדברים האלה, הברכה והקללה אשר נתתי לפניך, והשבת אל-לבבך, בכל-הגוים אשר הדיחך ה' אלהיך שמה. ושבת עד ה' אלקיך, ושמעת בקלו...
When the blessing (of reward when we obey God) and curse (of punishment when we disobey) come to pass, we should take to heart... what? The verse does not say what we should take to heart!
I think the answer is that we should take "it" to heart - with "it" being the content of the previous phrase. We should take THE COMING TO PASS OF THE BLESSINGS AND CURSES to heart. We realize that God in fact rewards and punishes, and that is a motivation for us to repent.
If that is the meaning, then how does the grammar work out?
Perhaps the phrase is intentionally incomplete for reasons of conciseness. It should say "take ____ to heart", but because here the phrase "____" is so long, it is omitted and the listener is supposed to figure it out and insert it mentally.
Or perhaps "take to heart", without a subject, means to take to heart whatever is natural to take to heart in the circumstances. If at some point in your life, you are confronted by direct evidence of God's control of the world, that awareness can be enough to drastically reorient a life which has been based on the proposition that God is irrelevant to the world's functioning and to our behavior.
This meaning is clear from the first occurrence of the phrase, in Devarim 4:39-40, which is well known to us from the Aleinu prayer:
וידעת היום, והשבת אל לבבך, כי ה' הוא האלקים בשמים ממעל ועל הארץ מתחת, אין עוד. ושמרת את חקיו ואת מצותיו, אשר אנכי מצוך היום, אשר ייטב לך...
We are supposed to internalize the fact that our God is the only god, and this knowledge will motivate us to keep the commandments.
The second occurrence (Devarim 30:1-2) is harder to understand.
והיה כי יבאו עליך כל-הדברים האלה, הברכה והקללה אשר נתתי לפניך, והשבת אל-לבבך, בכל-הגוים אשר הדיחך ה' אלהיך שמה. ושבת עד ה' אלקיך, ושמעת בקלו...
When the blessing (of reward when we obey God) and curse (of punishment when we disobey) come to pass, we should take to heart... what? The verse does not say what we should take to heart!
I think the answer is that we should take "it" to heart - with "it" being the content of the previous phrase. We should take THE COMING TO PASS OF THE BLESSINGS AND CURSES to heart. We realize that God in fact rewards and punishes, and that is a motivation for us to repent.
If that is the meaning, then how does the grammar work out?
Perhaps the phrase is intentionally incomplete for reasons of conciseness. It should say "take ____ to heart", but because here the phrase "____" is so long, it is omitted and the listener is supposed to figure it out and insert it mentally.
Or perhaps "take to heart", without a subject, means to take to heart whatever is natural to take to heart in the circumstances. If at some point in your life, you are confronted by direct evidence of God's control of the world, that awareness can be enough to drastically reorient a life which has been based on the proposition that God is irrelevant to the world's functioning and to our behavior.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
No conversations in shul
Many synagogues have a sign saying "No talking in shul", or some variation thereof.
But really, the fact is you are required to talk in shul! The signs should really say "No conversations in shul, except with God".
Perhaps people would refrain from talking to their neighbors, if they realized the impoliteness of repeatedly interrupting one conversation in order to engage in others.
But really, the fact is you are required to talk in shul! The signs should really say "No conversations in shul, except with God".
Perhaps people would refrain from talking to their neighbors, if they realized the impoliteness of repeatedly interrupting one conversation in order to engage in others.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Lulav
I have two questions about the mitzvah of the four species.
1) The species involved are weird. One would expect that they include species common to the land of Israel, like grapes or olives. But none of the "seven species" appears in the four species. In fact, the four species have very little importance in Tanach in any context except for this mitzvah.
2) Chazal say that the four species represent four types of people who must be united for the mitzvah to be performed. What is the source for this midrash?
To answer these questions, we must look at where each of the species grows.
The lulav is part of the palm tree, which grows in the desert.
The etrog is a citrus fruit, which grows in the coastal plain (like the Jaffa orange).
The arava grows in valleys ("arvei nachal").
The hadas grow in mountainous regions.
We see that each of the species grows in a different part of the land of Israel. A person living in Ein Gedi, for example, would have plenty of palm trees around, but no etrog trees. Meanwhile, a person living in Kfar Sava would have plenty of etrogs but no lulavs. When everyone gathered to Jerusalem for Sukkot, the Kfar Sava people would have to swap their etrogs for the Ein Gedi people's lulavs, so that each group would have both lulavs and etrogs. Similarly, they would have to find people from the mountains (Hevron?) and valleys (Afula?) in order to obtain hadasim and aravot.
It seems that the four species is a mitzvah that no individual could perform on their own. Only one of the four species would grow in their hometown, and the others would have to be obtained from people living in other parts of Israel. Thus, it was a mitzvah that had to be performed by the entire people, working together, coming together to Jerusalem.
After the exile, Jews no longer lived in each part of the land of Israel, and they would not all gather to Jerusalem on the holidays. Thus, it no longer made sense to talk about the mitzvah as uniting people from different geographic regions. Instead, Chazal said that each species represented a person of a differing type of piety - and people of all such types can be found in any place.
(Source)
1) The species involved are weird. One would expect that they include species common to the land of Israel, like grapes or olives. But none of the "seven species" appears in the four species. In fact, the four species have very little importance in Tanach in any context except for this mitzvah.
2) Chazal say that the four species represent four types of people who must be united for the mitzvah to be performed. What is the source for this midrash?
To answer these questions, we must look at where each of the species grows.
The lulav is part of the palm tree, which grows in the desert.
The etrog is a citrus fruit, which grows in the coastal plain (like the Jaffa orange).
The arava grows in valleys ("arvei nachal").
The hadas grow in mountainous regions.
We see that each of the species grows in a different part of the land of Israel. A person living in Ein Gedi, for example, would have plenty of palm trees around, but no etrog trees. Meanwhile, a person living in Kfar Sava would have plenty of etrogs but no lulavs. When everyone gathered to Jerusalem for Sukkot, the Kfar Sava people would have to swap their etrogs for the Ein Gedi people's lulavs, so that each group would have both lulavs and etrogs. Similarly, they would have to find people from the mountains (Hevron?) and valleys (Afula?) in order to obtain hadasim and aravot.
It seems that the four species is a mitzvah that no individual could perform on their own. Only one of the four species would grow in their hometown, and the others would have to be obtained from people living in other parts of Israel. Thus, it was a mitzvah that had to be performed by the entire people, working together, coming together to Jerusalem.
After the exile, Jews no longer lived in each part of the land of Israel, and they would not all gather to Jerusalem on the holidays. Thus, it no longer made sense to talk about the mitzvah as uniting people from different geographic regions. Instead, Chazal said that each species represented a person of a differing type of piety - and people of all such types can be found in any place.
(Source)
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Falling on your face
For an interesting explanation of Moshe and Aharon's falling on their faces, which happens a number of times in Sefer Bamidbar for unclear reasons, see here.
In short: People fall on their faces when they notice a Divine revelation, lest they see God and thus die. Moshe often falls on his face when no revelation has yet occurred. He does this as preparation for a revelation he hopes will then happen, because such a revelation would be an effective answer to the complainers or rebels he is confronting.
In short: People fall on their faces when they notice a Divine revelation, lest they see God and thus die. Moshe often falls on his face when no revelation has yet occurred. He does this as preparation for a revelation he hopes will then happen, because such a revelation would be an effective answer to the complainers or rebels he is confronting.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Kol Isha
"A woman's voice is nakedness" (Brachot 24a)
The justification of this statement is not obvious to everyone today. Sure, many people go to concerts in order to swoon over the performer of the opposite sex, but there good looks and suggestive dancing are at least as much an attraction as a good voice. And those performers are generally required to have relatively good voices. For the rest of us, with our often ugly voices, the attraction is clearly much weaker. Yet Chazal called that voice "nakedness", and prohibited listening to it in the same line in which they prohibited staring at a woman's leg!
To me, this is best understood by reference to Greek mythology. Measures of sexual attractiveness are influenced by one's culture, and the Greeks and Romans whom Chazal lived among found the female voice to be very seductive. I am thinking of the myth of Odysseus and the Sirens. There are, it is told, sea-dwelling creatures which sing in a woman's voice, whose song is so seductive that any man who hears them will have an irresistible urge to abandon ship and swim to them, only to be killed. Unlike the mermaids of other cultures, who often had beautiful bodies, the sirens were attractive only because of their voices. The rabbinic decree of kol isha responded to what, at the time, was apparently a very strong temptation, as hinted to by the myth of the sirens.
The justification of this statement is not obvious to everyone today. Sure, many people go to concerts in order to swoon over the performer of the opposite sex, but there good looks and suggestive dancing are at least as much an attraction as a good voice. And those performers are generally required to have relatively good voices. For the rest of us, with our often ugly voices, the attraction is clearly much weaker. Yet Chazal called that voice "nakedness", and prohibited listening to it in the same line in which they prohibited staring at a woman's leg!
To me, this is best understood by reference to Greek mythology. Measures of sexual attractiveness are influenced by one's culture, and the Greeks and Romans whom Chazal lived among found the female voice to be very seductive. I am thinking of the myth of Odysseus and the Sirens. There are, it is told, sea-dwelling creatures which sing in a woman's voice, whose song is so seductive that any man who hears them will have an irresistible urge to abandon ship and swim to them, only to be killed. Unlike the mermaids of other cultures, who often had beautiful bodies, the sirens were attractive only because of their voices. The rabbinic decree of kol isha responded to what, at the time, was apparently a very strong temptation, as hinted to by the myth of the sirens.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Ruth and the Shoftim
Naomi stood alone and abandoned at the beginning of Megillat Ruth. Her husband and sons were dead, and she was stranded in the land of Moav.
Yet by the end of the megillah, Naomi had regained both home and offspring. Ruth married Boaz, and their son was regarded like one of Naomi's own children (4:17). At the same time, Naomi returned to her very own ancestral plot of land, which was purchased by Boaz at the same time he married Ruth. (4:9-10).
What happened in between the beginning of the megillah, when Naomi was deprived of everything, and the end when she had received everything back?
The difference is the acts of kindness and love performed by Naomi, Ruth, and Boaz. Ruth insisted in accompanying Naomi despite Naomi's foreign culture and old age; Naomi arranged an advantageous marriage for Ruth; while Boaz protected Ruth in his field and agreed to marry her and to redeem the family's land.
These acts of kindness are especially striking when set against the historical circumstances of the period – as the megillah carefully indicates to us. The story is introduced as being "during the rule of the judges". Anyone who has read the book of Judges knows that this was not a period of love and kindness among the Jewish people. The defining event from this period was the story of pilegesh begivah (Shoftim 19-21). There, a traveler visited Givah, in the tribe of Binyamin. Some of the city's less responsible men demanded to "get to know" the traveler, similar to what had once happened in Sodom. His host refused, but the traveler agreed to let the men take his concubine (he was probably willing to do this because, as we previously learn, the concubine had recently cheated on him). The men raped and abused the concubine, and by the next morning she was dead. The traveler cut the concubine's corpse into 12 pieces, and delivered one to each tribe in Israel. The tribes, enraged, came and killed nearly the whole tribe of Binyamin in revenge.
These are the circumstances in which Naomi, Ruth, and Boaz showed their great kindness to each other. The time period was similar and Boaz and Naomi, like the traveler, came from Beit Lechem. Yet the actions in the megillah are quite the reverse of those in Shoftim. The concubine's unfaithfulness to the traveler (and then, vice versa) contrasts with Ruth's faithfulness to Naomi. Boaz's hospitality to Ruth contrasts with the inhospitality the traveler encountered in Givah. The arranged kidnapping of Israelite women in order to provide wives for the remaining Binyaminites contrasts with Boaz's refusal to sleep with Ruth until they were properly married.
While the love and kindness in the megillah were rewarded by offspring and inheritance of the land, the hatred and insensitivity of Shoftim were punished by the loss of offspring and the land. Almost the entire tribe of Binyamin, and thousands of soldiers from the other side, were killed in the Givah war. And the entire Shoftim period was characterized by a loss of land, as the disunified tribes were progressively overcome by the Philistines and other neighboring peoples.
Sefer Shoftim ends with the following verdict: "In those days there was no king in Israel, and each person would do whatever was right in their eyes." The usual interpretation of this is that a king could suppress and prevent evil behavior. But it can be equally understood as referring to internal dissension: without a king people would not unite against external enemies, and would even take up arms against each other.
It is no coincidence that the first successful king – David – was a descendant of Ruth and Boaz. He came to power in a period of civil war between Binyamin and Yehudah. But he managed to reconcile the two sides by showing friendship to Shaul's family and the rest of Binyamin, and by choosing a capitol (Jerusalem) which was on the border between the two tribes. During his reign the Jewish kingdom expanded to its widest extent ever, and grew to be numbered "like the stars of the sky" (Divrei Hayamim Alef 27:23). Just as Ruth's family succeeded in reversing their personal punishments by the practice of love and kindness, their descendant David succeeded in doing the same for the entire nation.
Yet by the end of the megillah, Naomi had regained both home and offspring. Ruth married Boaz, and their son was regarded like one of Naomi's own children (4:17). At the same time, Naomi returned to her very own ancestral plot of land, which was purchased by Boaz at the same time he married Ruth. (4:9-10).
What happened in between the beginning of the megillah, when Naomi was deprived of everything, and the end when she had received everything back?
The difference is the acts of kindness and love performed by Naomi, Ruth, and Boaz. Ruth insisted in accompanying Naomi despite Naomi's foreign culture and old age; Naomi arranged an advantageous marriage for Ruth; while Boaz protected Ruth in his field and agreed to marry her and to redeem the family's land.
These acts of kindness are especially striking when set against the historical circumstances of the period – as the megillah carefully indicates to us. The story is introduced as being "during the rule of the judges". Anyone who has read the book of Judges knows that this was not a period of love and kindness among the Jewish people. The defining event from this period was the story of pilegesh begivah (Shoftim 19-21). There, a traveler visited Givah, in the tribe of Binyamin. Some of the city's less responsible men demanded to "get to know" the traveler, similar to what had once happened in Sodom. His host refused, but the traveler agreed to let the men take his concubine (he was probably willing to do this because, as we previously learn, the concubine had recently cheated on him). The men raped and abused the concubine, and by the next morning she was dead. The traveler cut the concubine's corpse into 12 pieces, and delivered one to each tribe in Israel. The tribes, enraged, came and killed nearly the whole tribe of Binyamin in revenge.
These are the circumstances in which Naomi, Ruth, and Boaz showed their great kindness to each other. The time period was similar and Boaz and Naomi, like the traveler, came from Beit Lechem. Yet the actions in the megillah are quite the reverse of those in Shoftim. The concubine's unfaithfulness to the traveler (and then, vice versa) contrasts with Ruth's faithfulness to Naomi. Boaz's hospitality to Ruth contrasts with the inhospitality the traveler encountered in Givah. The arranged kidnapping of Israelite women in order to provide wives for the remaining Binyaminites contrasts with Boaz's refusal to sleep with Ruth until they were properly married.
While the love and kindness in the megillah were rewarded by offspring and inheritance of the land, the hatred and insensitivity of Shoftim were punished by the loss of offspring and the land. Almost the entire tribe of Binyamin, and thousands of soldiers from the other side, were killed in the Givah war. And the entire Shoftim period was characterized by a loss of land, as the disunified tribes were progressively overcome by the Philistines and other neighboring peoples.
Sefer Shoftim ends with the following verdict: "In those days there was no king in Israel, and each person would do whatever was right in their eyes." The usual interpretation of this is that a king could suppress and prevent evil behavior. But it can be equally understood as referring to internal dissension: without a king people would not unite against external enemies, and would even take up arms against each other.
It is no coincidence that the first successful king – David – was a descendant of Ruth and Boaz. He came to power in a period of civil war between Binyamin and Yehudah. But he managed to reconcile the two sides by showing friendship to Shaul's family and the rest of Binyamin, and by choosing a capitol (Jerusalem) which was on the border between the two tribes. During his reign the Jewish kingdom expanded to its widest extent ever, and grew to be numbered "like the stars of the sky" (Divrei Hayamim Alef 27:23). Just as Ruth's family succeeded in reversing their personal punishments by the practice of love and kindness, their descendant David succeeded in doing the same for the entire nation.
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