Modern Pe’or Worship – Parshat Va’etchanan

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Printable PDF available here. Last year’s piece on Va’etchanan is available here.

**Rav Kook (Pinkasei ha’Reiyah, 1:45)**

Your eyes have seen what the Lord did at Ba’al Pe’or, for every man who went after Ba’al Pe’or, the Lord your G-d has exterminated from your midst. (Devarim 4:3)

There was once a gentile woman who was very ill. She vowed: ‘If I recover from my illness, I will go and worship every idol in the world.’ She recovered, and proceeded to worship every idol in the world. When she came to Pe’or, she asked its priests, ‘How is this one worshipped?’ They told her, ‘One eats greens and drinks strong drink, and then defecates before the idol.’ The woman responded, ‘I’d rather become ill again than worship an idol in such a [revolting] manner.’ (Gemara Sanhedrin 64a)

The root .פ.ע.ר means to ‘open up’ or ‘bare.’ According to the Talmud, worshippers would bare their backsides and defecate in presence of the idol. This seemingly bizarre manner of worship demands an explanation. And is there anything about the Torah’s condemnation of Pe’or that is relevant to our own lives?

To answer these questions, we must understand that Pe’or is not simply another idol in the panoply of pagan deities. It represents the highest form of vileness and the utter corruption of man’s righteous and ethical character. The ideology behind Pe’or takes its guidance from man’s physical nature. In the physical world, when someone’s body is in a state of sickness, the body restores itself to equilibrium by expelling the waste or source of sickness. Pe’or worshippers maintained that the same is true in the spiritual realm. If a person is tempted by desires – no matter how how debased or unrefined – they can only find healing by giving their yearnings outward expression.

In this light, Pe’or worship is far from a matter of historical curiosity or merely a bizarre practice that died out in the ancient world. Even if our modern era, we can discern echoes of Pe’or worship if we listen closely. How often are we told that every human thought and desire is legitimate, that suppressing them can only result in sickness and suffering, and that a truly healthy society allows people to give expression to their desires?

As Torah Jews, we know that the exact opposite is true. It is true that our physical health requires the body to expel waste and sources of sickness. But when it comes to the spiritual realm, our guiding principle is as taught in Pirkei Avot (4:1) – “Who is mighty? He who conquers his desires.” The filth of a person’s dark and impure yearnings should not be given outward expression, but conquered and illuminated with the light of Torah.

Food for Thought

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Bamidbar 25:3): And there was also Baal Peor, a god of shamelessness, who was worshiped by giving brazen prominence to the most bestial aspects of human life. Hence, Hoshea says: “They came to Baal Peor and dedicated [va’yinazru – from the same root as “nazir”] themselves to shamefulness” (Hoshea 9:10) – i.e., they sanctified/designated themselves for shamefulness. The cult of Pe’or is an illustration of the type of Darwinism that glories in man’s descent to the level of the beast, where, stripping himself of his Divinely-given nobility, he comes to regard himself as merely a highly-developed animal.

The Appeal of Baal Peor (and Darwin) (KolhaSeridim.com): Ever since the sin of Adam and Chava, the human psyche has been forced to operate under the ever-present surveillance of the conscience. The fear, shame, and guilt that are generated by the conscience are virtually inescapable. Although the conscience was given to us for our benefit, as a counter-force to keep man’s instinctual nature in check to help mitigate the consequences of the cheit, it has also given rise to a number of difficulties – some of which are objective (e.g. shoulds and religious guilt), and others of which are subjective.

One of these subjective difficulties is the fact that it is impossible for us to simply enjoy pleasure, like an animal does. Instead, we are compelled to justify our pursuit of pleasure within the parameters of value systems to which we subscribe. When we partake of a pleasure in a manner that runs contrary to our value systems, we experience cognitive dissonance – usually in the form of fear, shame, or guilt. The easiest way to get out of this state of conflict is through rationalization. Rather than confronting the causes and effects of our “moral failings” it is much easier to hastily explain away our misdeeds by coming up with excuses. If such moral lapses become habit, we tend to alter our value systems in order to legitimize our new pattern of behavior. Ultimately, morality yields to habit and desire…

Baal Peor – “the god of shamelessness” – was so attractive is that it granted license for the unbridled indulgence in physical pleasure by sanctifying the rejection of the conscience. In other words, the appeal was two-fold: (1) Baal Peor worshipers were granted the freedom to gratify all of their basest animalistic desires, and (2) their rebellious flaunting of shamelessness – epitomized in the hallowed ritual of public defecation – was imbued with religious value, thereby allowing them to bypass the cognitive dissonance that they ordinarily would have experienced.

This dual-allure of Baal Peor worship carries tremendous power. Imagine informing a lazy student that neglecting his homework and tearing up his tests will earn him an “A” in his least favorite class, or telling an alcoholic that nightly binge-drinking will win him free booze the next day. Similarly, if a priest of Baal Peor tells people that there is a god who wants them to abandon themselves to their hedonistic tendencies, and that the path to freeing oneself from shame is to revel in shamelessness, then he is bound to attract a multitude of followers….

We can now understand why the worship of “the god of Shamelessness” was accompanied by the sexual corruption which is emphasized by the Torah as the leading cause of Bnei Yisrael’s downfall. On the surface it would seem that there is no relationship between fecal rites and sexual promiscuity, but in light of Rav Hirsch’s explanation, the connection is clear: the licentiousness of the daughters of Moav was sanctioned by the religion of shamelessness. Their unrestrained sexual depravity was fueled by their worship of Baal Peor, who – in their minds – found favor in acts of wanton debauchery…

The take-away… [is] as follows: beware the seductiveness of a belief-system which caters to the desire to live like an animal, unsaddled by the yoke of conscience and unbound by confines of objective morality. These doctrines will appear to be legitimate, due to their authoritative veneer – whether it be the religious appeal to the spiritual mind, or the rational appeal to the scientific mind – but know the terrible cost of hearkening to their siren song…

Thus, the account of Baal Peor isn’t merely a historical record of a sin committed by our ancestors. It stands as a contemporary warning about the ever-present threat of moral degeneracy masquerading as an elite ideology…

Rod Dreher (a contemporary Christian intellectual): A friend of mine describes America today like this (and he’s talking about right wingers as well as left wingers):

(1) I am my desires

(2) Justice is the fulfilling of my desires, injustice is the impeding of my desires

(3) You are either the ally or the enemy of my desires

(4) If you are the ally, I will tolerate you; if you are the enemy, I will seek to destroy you.

Based on The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Chabad.com): For forty years, the people of Israel had enjoyed a wholly spiritual existence. They were fed, clothed and sheltered by daily miracles, leaving them free to pursue the divine wisdom of Torah without the distractions of the material state. Most telling of their state was the fact that the manna, the “bread from heaven” on which they lived, was wholly absorbed by their bodies, engendering no waste. They inhabited a spiritual idyll, in which the waste of creation was unknown.

But now they stood at the threshold of a new era: they were to settle the land, till its soil, engage in commerce and politics—i.e., to live a physical life sustained by physical means. For the first time in their history as a nation, they were to be in direct contact with the nether levels of the chain of evolution—with that part of the cosmic digestive tract which separates the waste from the body of creation. For the first time, they were called upon to differentiate between vital matter (matter that nourishes a spiritual end) and dead matter (matter as an end in itself).

Not all were equal to the challenge. There was an outbreak of Peor worship in the Israelite camp, as many were enticed by the pseudo-pleasures to be found in the undesirable byproducts of creation….

Questions for Discussion

Can you think of any contemporary applications of Rav Kook’s analysis, where Torah Judaism differs from modern society on what thoughts/desires are legitimate to give expression to?
At the end of the piece above, Rav Kook talks about “conquering desires” but also about “illuminating them with the light of Torah.” Are these the same thing? If they are different, how are they different?
See the above excerpts in “Food for Thought.” Are they saying the same as Rav Kook?
Would Rav Kook agree with Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch that Pe’or worship is connected to Darwinism?
Rav Kook claims that the physical and spiritual worlds do not always operate on the same principles. What are some areas where they function the same way?
Is the ideology of Pe’or a total aberration as far as idolatry is concerned? Or is it just an extreme formulation of ideas that are common to all idolatry?

Opening the Wellspring – Parshat Devarim

Printable PDF available here. Last year’s piece on Parshat Devarim is available here.

**Rav Kook (Based on the Introduction to Ein Ayah)**

On the other side of the Jordan, in the land of Moab, Moses began to explain (באר) this Torah. (Devarim 1:4)

In Tanach, we find two different verbs for pursuing a deeper understanding of Torah. One term, which characterizes the book of Devarim, is bi’ur. The other term is peirush. What is the difference between these two modes of comprehending Torah? And what determines which mode is appropriate for a specific Torah discipline, or in a particular generation? The difference between bi’ur and peirush may seem like wordplay, but these are not mere synonyms. Understanding these conceptual categories will take us to the very essence of Torah itself.

Peirush shares the same root as the Hebrew word for unfolding, as is clear from other verses in Tanach.[1] When one engages in peirush, they are literally “unfolding” the subject of their study, extracting its full implications and “spreading it out,” like one broadening out the folds of a garment. Through this linear and focused process of cognition, one can discover a wealth of insight and profundity in every Torah teaching.

Bi’ur involves an entirely different mode of cognition. No single teaching of Torah can be exhausted by the process of unpacking its implications through peirush. Because of the Torah’s Divine character, every aspect of Torah contains a flow of light and wisdom that pours forth through one who makes himself a suitable vessel. When the G-dly wisdom of Torah percolates through human intellect, a wealth of associations and connections emerge from every word. Bi’ur is not a linear process of ‘unpacking’ the Torah’s wisdom, nor is not bounded by the measured and deliberate steps of formal logic. Its wisdom is innovative and associative, and involves creativity and flashes of inspiration.

The word bi’ur is thus related to the word be’er, or wellspring, and connotes the expansive, associative dimension of Torah, whereby lifegiving waters of holiness flow forth from every utterance that Israel has inherited from previous generations of its scholars and ancestors. It should not surprise us, then, that our Sages refer to the highest level of Torah scholar as “an ever-increasing wellspring” and “an unending river.”

Let us examine another important difference. Although one can acquire an appreciation of the ‘big picture’ of Torah through peirush, its focus is principally upon the discrete details of the Torah system. The big picture emerges only through the painstaking amalgamation of sufficient detail, much like the scene of a pointillist painting is created by thousands of individual dots of paint. However, the pursuit of bi’ur is primarily concerned with the general character of Torah. It seeks out the Divine will and ethical vitality that lies within and animates every single detail. Before, we noted that bi’ur is related to the Hebrew word for wellspring. Just as a spring of water is a single, integrated entity that flows and moves as one, bi’ur involves the pursuit and perception of the underlying unity of the Torah and its ultimate telos.

Through bi’ur, even halachic disputes can be resolved by recourse to the general, all-encompassing Divine will and ethical foundations of the Torah.[2] But this demands towering spiritual personalities who can accurate discern the ruach haTorah, without being misled by their own weaknesses, desires or un-Jewish ideologies. Individuals of such spiritual sensitivity can only emerge when Israel is at the highest level of holiness, with a seamless integration of physical and spiritual reality. This can only be attained in the Land of Israel, “whose very air infuses the soul with Divine wisdom.” For this reason, we find that Moshe did not begin his bi’ur of the Torah until now, when the Jews were on the verge of entering the Holy Land.

In exile, the requisite level of spiritual sensitivity for adjudicating halachic disputes through bi’ur is lacking. One who attempts to do so is likely to stumble. And thus, at least when it comes to halachic matters, our responsibility is to dedicate our collective energies to peirush haTorah. Thus, we find that generations later, when the wellsprings of the be’er had begun to close, Ezra led a return to Torah learning and education. And we are told “they read in the scroll, in the Law of G-d, clearly (lit. meforash)… and they explained the reading to them” (Nechemiah 8:8).

However, the wellspring of Torah remains open in the realm of aggadah. There are two reasons for this. First of all, the concern for stumbling in matters of practical conduct is not as great in aggadah as it is in halacha. Secondly, it is easier to perceive the all-encompassing Divine will and ethical foundations of the Torah in aggadah than it is in the (seemingly) dry details of halacha. Thus, when it comes to aggadah, we remain free to pursue an associative and expansive, and carve channels through which the lifegiving waters of the Torah can flow.

[1] Rav Kook references Isaiah 25:11 – “And he [Moav] shall spread out (ופרש) his hands in his midst as the swimmer spreads out (יפרש) to swim and He shall humble his haughtiness [together] with the cunning of His hands.” See also Devarim 22:17 – “And they shall spread (ופרשו) the garment before the elders of the city.”

[2] Rav Kook notes that the investigation of טעמי המצוות is a component of bi’ur.

Food for Thought

World Heritage Encyclopedia: Aggadah… refers to the homiletic and non-legalistic exegetical texts in the classical rabbinic literature of Judaism, particularly as recorded in the Talmud and Midrash. In general, Aggadah is a compendium of rabbinic homilies that incorporates folklore, historical anecdotes, moral exhortations, and practical advice in various spheres, from business to medicine. In terms of etymology… the Aramaic root אגד (as well as נגד from which אגדה may arise) has the dual implication of “expanding” / “drawing out” and “binding” / “drawing in”. Correspondingly, the Aggadah may be seen as those teachings which communicate Rabbinic traditions to the reader, simultaneously expanding their understanding of the text, while strengthening their religious experience and spiritual connection. The root also has the meaning “flow”…

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch: Allow me to posit a general principle: aggadic statements are surely not ordinary or irrelevant statements. They are extremely precious statements that are surely pertinent to the intention of he Torah’s Giver, blessed is He. For, beyond the study and transmission of the details of Jewish practice so that Jewry should know how to act, every scholar to whom G-d grants the ability to do so, draws wisdom and mussar from the well of Torah and mitzvos according to his time and place, and according to his understanding and talents, in order to attract Jewish hearts to love of G-d and of His Torah. These are the darshanim of every generation. In his lectures, each of them develops his unique style in accord with his nature and spirit. There is no doubt that this form of expression is acceptable to G-d so long as it does not stray from the way of truth and uprightness. It is acceptable and part of His intention from the very giving of His Torah, when He informed Moshe of these aspects of Torah, too — but in a general way, without going into all the details that some scholar might at some time express publicly in a lecture. He transmitted it generally so that each scholar could develop his own ideas and produce fresh flowers in the garden of Torah and mitzvos to please G-d and man. It is no wonder that defiled men may not learn Aggadah any more than Halachah, for aggadic statements are as a whole considered part of Torah and most of them are based on verses in Tanach.

Rabbi Shalom Carmy (reviewing the philosophy of Rav Eliezer Berkovits): [Certain themes are] characteristic and distinctive to Berkovits’s halakhic philosophy. One such element is the priority of ethics in Halakhah. Conformity to the rules of halakhah is not an end in itself but merely one reflection of a set of higher moral principles. No stable legal system functioning in the real world can perfectly articulate the underlying values; therefore the timeworn precedents of the codified Halakhah should be maintained. But their final justification derives from the moral principles. Proper interpretation and application of the Halakhah should be governed by these principles. Hence Halakhah cannot conflict with morality. When codified Halakhah inflicts real damage on moral ends, in Berkovits’s opinion, as with numerous rulings on women’s status or when conversion standards ignore non-Orthodox concepts of Jewish identity, Berkovits advocates change.

Berkovits’s moral ends derive from internal Jewish sources. This is where he differs from other scholars (identified with Conservative Judaism) who justify halakhic change resulting from the encounter of tradition with the evolving needs of individual or society. The law may change, in Berkovits’s view, but the values do not; the purpose of change is to better sustain the values under varying conditions. Thus Berkovits’s dissatisfaction with mainstream Halakhah regarding women is rooted, not in the pressures of contemporary egalitarianism, but in his judgment about biblical conceptions of justice…

But Berkovits exceeds these modest claims: Most of us take guidance, when we study and when we act, from a set of important moral intuitions, but we hold them somewhat loosely. The body of Torah literature is complex, and, in the most sensitive areas, inhospitable to one-sided value judgment. Hence learning demands that we struggle with ideas that frequently pull us in conflicting directions. We strive to balance our philological and literary investigation of what the text says, and how it has been understood by the fellowship of talmidei hakhamim throughout the generations, against our moral and psychological conviction of what it ought to say, in our opinion. Because the editors of the Mishnah and the Talmud chose to include the conflicting views of the Sages, and because this decision molded the nature of our study ever after, the student of Torah is required to respect rabbinic positions that are not accepted at a practical level; thus he carries in his bones, so to speak, not only the final law, but the voices of disagreement and debate behind the law. In this incessant dialogue the student is sometimes compelled to recognize that the ideas and values with which he began do not fit the law. When this occurs, one does not reject or amend the law; it is our thinking that is ripe for revision. Charged with the responsibility of interpreting the law, we educate ourselves through the study, and the results are not always predictable.

Berkovits, by contrast, displays great confidence in his ability to discern, and define with precision the underlying axiology that ought to determine Halakhah, and which values should be allowed to override the others. For all the times he reminds us that no set of laws can succeed in absolutely capturing moral-religious reality, he is not inclined to remind himself that putting one’s trust in a set of general principles is a less reliable method of reaching truth than committing oneself to a set of precepts and texts with all their strange turnings and surprising twists.

Questions for Discussion

What is the purpose of aggadah? Why isn’t everything needed for Torah life contained in halacha?
What are some dangers of using the “bi’ur” approach to Torah to resolve halachic disputes?
Is it important to study the reasons for mitzvot? Why or why not?
Are you convinced by Rav Kook’s claim that the proper approach to resolving halachic questions can change depending on the spiritual stature of Israel and its leaders?
See Rav Hirsch above in “Food for Thought.” Is he saying the same thing as Rav Kook, or something different?

Ulterior Motives – Parshat Pinchas

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(Disclaimer: Not a picture of Pinchas)

Printable PDF available here. Last year’s post on Parshat Pinchas is available here.

**Rav Kook (Metziat Katan 146)**

Pinchas the son of Eleazar, the son of Aaron the Kohen, has turned My anger away from the children of Israel by zealously avenging Me among them, so that I did not destroy the children of Israel because of My vengeance. Therefore, say, “I hereby give him My covenant of peace.”

On these verses, a puzzling midrash tells us that G-d declared “It is right (lit. בדין) that Pinchas claim his reward.” What exactly do our Sages mean to tell us? Why was there any question about Pinchas’ entitlement to reward for his actions?

To understand this midrash, let us turn to a famous question in Jewish philosophy – why were the Egyptians punished for enslaving the Jews if G-d decreed that Avraham’s descendants would be slaves? Many answers are offered to this question. Maimonides suggests that G-d only decreed that Egypt as a collective would enslave the Jewish people, but every single Egyptian maintained the freedom of choice. When that freedom of choice was misused, the Egyptians were deserving of punishment. However, this answer is counterintuitive and does not seem to resolve the problem. If G-d desired that the Jews be enslaved in Egypt, then every individual Egyptian who furthered that purpose was fulfilling the Divine will. What is the logic of distinguishing between G-d’s judgment of individual Egyptians and the collective as a whole?

Let us suggest an alternative solution, one that will also resolve our puzzling midrash regarding Pinchas. Most of the time, G-d commands us to perform actions that are intrinsically good and desirable. And although we are encouraged to fulfil His will for its own sake (lit. לשמה), it is difficult to rise to this lofty level. Thus, our tradition acknowledges the value of performing mitzvot with ulterior motives (lit. שלא לשמה), and in most instances does not censure us for doing so.

However, there are rare instances of actions that are fundamentally wicked, but which G-d permits because they are necessary for the unfolding of His plan for humanity, without which the world could not reach the highest level of perfection. Because these actions are intrinsically wrongful, they are only permitted if performed by one who is conscious that he is fulfilling a Divine mandate. Otherwise, his act remains lawless and contemptible.

One example of this dynamic is the mitzvah of yibbum. Ordinarily, having relations with one’s brother’s wife is a terrible prohibition, punishable by karet. However, when a brother dies without children, G-d’s wisdom pushes aside this prohibition and makes it into a mitzvah. However, the underlying prohibition is still latent, and so our Sages (Gemara Yevamot 39b) teach that if a man who performs yibbum with ulterior motives, it is “as if he encounters one of the arayot.”

The same dynamic was at work when G-d decreed that the Jews be enslaved in Egypt. To cause suffering to any human being, not least an entire nation, is fundamentally a terrible sin. G-d permitted it only as a special dispensation for Israel to be born and fulfill its world-historical mission. The Egyptians should have kept in mind that they were enslaving Israel only in fulfillment of the Divine decree, but the suffering they inflicted was motivated by hatred, not by consciousness of duty. And so in G-d’s eyes it ceased to be a mitzvah and reverted to a terrible sin, one deserving of the most severe punishment.

To come full circle, the same dynamic was also at play in Pinchas’ actions. According to halacha, his execution of Zimri was fundamentally an extra-judicial act of murder, permissible only to one who is a קנאי, a pure-hearted zealot pained by public desecration of G-d’s name. Given that “man sees what is visible to the eyes, while only the Lord sees into the heart” (Shmuel Aleph 16:7), we are thus justified in asking whether Pinchas’ motivations were sincere. In fact, our Sages teach that Pinchas’ contemporaries believed he did not deserve to be rewarded. They did not believe that someone whose ancestors were non-Jewish idol worshippers could muster the necessary purity of intention to be a true zealot. Thus, it was necessary for G-d to attest to Pinchas’ worthiness and declare “It is right (lit. בדין) that Pinchas claim his reward.”

Food for Thought

Nachum Rakover (המטרה המקדשת את האמעציים): One text that could serve as an important authorization to transgress when the motivation is fulfillment of a commandment, is the statement in Tractate Nazir (23b), “A transgression performed with good intention (lishmah) is better than a commandment performed not for its own sake”–with the word lishmah taken as Rashi does, to mean “for the purpose of fulfilling a commandment.” The statement is a bold one, which seems to cut across all categories in one fell stroke and base everything on the nature of one’s motivation. The case offered as proof of this principle is that of Yael, who, the Talmud tells us, had relations with the enemy general Sisera in order to slay him (see Judg. 4:17–22). Hence one cannot help but wonder if it is the Talmud’s position that normally forbidden relations are totally permitted when their purpose is the fulfillment of a commandment?…

In the literature that deals with the issue of transgression in order to fulfill a commandment, there is scarcely any mention at all of the principle, “A transgression performed with good intention is better than a precept performed not for its own sake.” What mention we do find, is exemplified by Rashba’s use of the principle in response to a query on the proper policy concerning punishment of offenders (Resp. Rashba V:238). In the case before him, Rashba recommends moderation and adds, “These matters are determined by the intention of the heart, as you know what is said in Nazir (23b), that ‘a transgression performed with good intention is better than a precept performed not for its own sake.’” Rashba’s responsum does not deal with punishment according to the prescribed law, but rather with punishment demanded by the exigencies of the hour. Such punishment is determined at the sole discretion of the judge. In such instances, then, the evaluation that must be made with regard to possible suspension of punishment has to take into account, among other considerations, the legal system’s view of the judge’s “transgression” performed with good intention….

Violation of the law in order to preserve it seems to receive a somewhat broader interpretation in Hassidic literature. So, for example, R. Ya’akov Yosef of Polanah writes, “We find that the main purpose of G-d’s commandments is that we cleave to His ways, and sometimes the value of a transgression with good intention is very great” (Toledot Ya’akov Yosef, Pareshat Ki Tetze 5). R. Tzadok haKohen of Lublin, in his Tzidkat haTzadik (25) mentions that sometimes love of G-d requires one to sacrifice his soul, as in the case of King David who sought to worship an idol, and the person who violated the Sabbath by gathering wood during Israel’s sojourn in the desert (mekoshesh). Both transgressed with good intention (leshem shamayyim). With regard to a transgression performed with good intention, R. Hayyim of Tzanz distinguishes between ordinary persons and one who transcends human nature, abandoning all regard for his own bodily pleasure (Divrei Hayyim, Pareshat Va’et’hanan, ad init.).

The opposite approach is found in the writings of R. Hayyim of Volozhin, the leading pupil of the Gaon of Vilna. In his work, Nefesh haHayyim (additional notes following Part III, chap. 7), R. Hayyim notes the problematic nature of the statement “gedola aveira lishmah,” which implies that it is permitted to transgress if one’s intention is proper, a statement with potential to undermine all existing order. Therefore, R. Hayyim posits that permission to transgress with good intention applied only prior to the Sinai revelation, but since Sinai, we are bound by the categories of the Torah, and thus the principle has no practical application in our time. In the post-Sinai era, then, even a person becomes convinced that the fulfillment of his legal obligation will cause damage, he is not permitted to abstain, since the reasons for the commandments were not revealed.

Elhanan Wasserman (Or Elhanan, Part II, p. 3) considered the issue of transgression with good intention when consulted about the possible use of force in the struggle for employment of Jewish workers (“avodah Ivrit”) in Eretz Yisrael. In his response, R. Elhanan writes that “it is clear that the authority to permit transgression with good intention was given only to the Sages and not to us… and that if such authority is granted to all who wish to use it, there will remain no room for our holy Torah. Indeed, the communist Bolsheviks also claim that their tactics are for the good of society. But the tactics of terror can only destroy; they can never build, as is written, ‘melekh bemishpat ya’amid eretz–The King by justice upholds the country…’ (Prov. 29:4). From here we learn that the world can be upheld only by justice, and that without justice, it is impossible to remain in the world. For if one side employs terror, the other side will certainly use this method as well.”…

The possibility of violating the law in order to preserve it is a matter of far-reaching and potentially dangerous implications. Due to its explosive nature, the principle has never become part of the mainstream of Jewish law, but has remained a relatively minor tributary.

A Mashal From the Brisker Rav: Rav Soloveitchik offered an analogy to explain an important aspect of the Torah’s attitude toward zealotry. He told the story of a homeowner who was troubled by an infestation of mice in his home. In order to combat the mice, he purchased a cat. In short order, the cat rid the homeowner of the troublesome mice. Rav Soloveitchik observed that both the homeowner and the cat shared the objective of eliminating the mice. However, their underlying motives were very different. The homeowner would have been even happier if he had never experienced the mice infestation. However, the cat’s happiness stems from his engaging hunt and conquest. The cat’s pleasure requires that there be an infestation! Rav Soloveitchik explained that unfortunately, some individuals delight in confrontation and conflict. They masquerade as zealots for the honor of Torah but really enjoy confrontation and strife. The zealot who is acting on Torah principles wishes that his actions would not be required. He responds to a disaster – a public desecration of the Torah’s values. He would prefer that the desecration not occur and his response not be required.

Questions for Discussion

Other than Pinchas, who else in Tanach has a reputation for zealotry?
See the excerpt from Elhanan Wasserman above in “Food for Thought.” In light of his insights, does Rav Kook’s teaching have any relevance to the racial unrest currently convulsing cities across America?
What else is relevant to whether the Torah approves or condemns an act of zealotry?
Can there be zealotry that does not involve lashing out at or harming people one does not approve of?
Rav Kook sees yibbum, the Egyptian enslavement and Pinchas lashing out at Zimri/Kozbi as expressions of the same principle. How are these cases similar? How are they different?
What are some dangers of misplaced zealotry?

Of Tents and Torah – Parshat Chukat

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Ein Ayah (Gemara Shabbat 83b):

Even at the moment of death, one should not refrain from going to the beit midrash or from engaging in Torah study, as it is stated: “This is the Torah: A person who dies in a tent” (Bamidbar 19:14).

This statement of our Sages is puzzling, to say the least. Can a person on the verge of death really be expected to present himself in the beit midrash, let alone have the clarity of mind to engage in Torah study? What are our Sages trying to teach us?

A proper understanding of this teaching requires us to understand that our Sages are making a broader point about the purpose of Torah. The basic goal of any moral code is the functioning of a stable society that advances human welfare. For this reason, the realm of morality is concerned with man’s this-worldly existence. As long as a person is alive in this world and a member of broader society, he must adhere to this basic level of morality.

The Torah shares the goal of advancing human welfare and creating a well-functioning society, albeit it in a more perfected and holy form than could emerge from any human mind. However, the Torah’s concerns are much broader and far-reaching. Every law and every detail of the Torah, even those that seem pragmatically oriented, transcends the narrow concerns of this world and roots man in the eternal world of pure spirit (lit. חיי עולם).

For this reason, even if a person is on the verge of death and is no longer concerned with mundane matters of worldly existence, he should not be any less connected to the Torah. The Torah’s laws and details root us in a realm of eternal and illuminated holiness, and are not only for this world.

This explains why our Sages did not suffice with asserting that a person on the verge of death should study Torah – they went out of their way to add that he should even “attend the beit midrash.” In other words, one might have thought that the beit midrash, where Jews gather for communal Torah study, is primarily a sociological institution. Instead of studying in private, Jews come there for companionship and the pleasure of intellectual engagement (lit. חידוד של בית המדש). Our Sages are alluding that the sociological and worldly is but one dimension of the beit midrash – and by extension, but one dimension of the holy Torah.

We see that this statement of our Sages is not meant as impractical advice about funerary planning. It is intended to guide all of us to a deeper appreciation of the uniqueness and sacred character of our precious Torah.

Food for Thought

Rabbi Shalom Carmy (“Is Contemporary Orthodox Judaism Racist?” in Tradition 50:4): When you ask about Orthodox Judaism and racism, speaking in your role as an educator of young Jews, at the root of your vexation are these insidious muttered imprecations amplified around dinner tables, in classrooms and shuls, often regurgitated by people who have suppressed or never knew the pain and betrayal whence they may have originated. Modern Orthodox identity, for many of your students, is more about these scenes of socialization than it is about religiously formed convictions and theological propositions. That socialization supposedly enables our young people to uphold the reality of a transcendent G-d, whose commands override human preferences, devotion to the singular destiny of a people separate from the nations of the world, and a way of life sharply at odds with secular values, and to resist the powerful attractions and pressures of that world. When our socialization indulges and even encourages racist utterances, the Orthodox community finds itself in the wrong on a clear-cut moral question, the one question that, in the eyes of liberal secular culture, takes precedence over all other moral questions.

Rav Soloveitchik (Divrei Hashkafa, pg. 254-255): I recoil from all talk that goes round and round a single topic: that the observance of mitzvot is beneficial for digestion, for sound sleep, for family harmony, and for social position… When man meets G-d, G-d demands self-sacrifice, which expresses itself in struggle with his primitive passions, in breaking his will, in accepting a transcendental “burden,” in giving up exaggerated carnal desire, in occasional withdrawal from the sweet and pleasant, in dedication to the strangely bitter, in clash with secular rule, and in his yearning for a paradoxical world that is incomprehensible to others. Offer your sacrifice! This is the fundamental command given to the man of religion.

Rav Yuval Cherlow (In His Image, pg. 166, 168): [T]he Bible does not contain any explicit mention of the World to Come. It is absent even in places where we would expect it to appear. It does not appear in the passages that discuss reward and punishment, all of which refer to material consequences in this world. The World to Come is not the answer given to the never-ending question of why bad things happen to good people — even though it is the primary response given by the Oral Torah. It is also not the answer given to the question posed by Ecclesiastes — “What profit has a man of all his labor wherein he labors under the sun?” (Eccl. 1:3) — even though it should be the natural response. The disparity must be addressed…. [One of many approaches in our tradition] is presented by Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi. He explains that the Torah’s silence in relation to the World to Come reveals how minimal its significance is in Man’s consciousness. The Torah wants Man to devote his attention to constantly striving to bring about G-d’s manifestation in this world. Man encounters G-d in the framework of life, not death. In the words of Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi, the two reasons serve as one: he stresses the remarkable purpose of the encounter with G-d precisely in the world of the living — “and I will walk among you” — as well as the consequences of this fact on the subsequent certainty that the World to Come exists: “The ultimate good is reserved for the [people of the chosen] nation, who are closest to G-d during their lifetimes. After death the degree of a person’s closeness to G-d is assessed according to his level before death.”

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Collected Writings Vol. 1, pg. 202): For those who have achieved this inner harmony, this blessed peace of mind, there is no longer any contrast and disharmony, any conflict or chasm between heaven and earth, between time and eternity, between temple and home, altar and table. For heaven and eternity, bliss and supreme happiness have entered the daily, temporal concerns of such people. Their psycho-physical existence, their material and spiritual being has been changed into something heavenly and eternal. They are able to assemble their families around the table of G-d. And, in the presence of G-d, together with wife and children they can enjoy these eternal values which transform every moment of our fleeting existence on earth into a taste of eternity.

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Collected Writings Vol. 2, pg. 185): [T]he element of eternity… is inherent even in the transient, fast-fading present. For this reason… and in spite of the fleeting character of our earthly existence, our Sages refer to our human world as עולם, though this term is usually reserved for the concept of eternity. Is the present not indeed a segment of eternity? Is not every drop of water in the sea a part of the ocean that ebbs and flows forever so that even this tiny drop has a portion in the ocean’s infinity? Is not even the most fleeting moment of the present a permanent part of eternity? And if this eternity has one King, the One G-d, and even the present, the temporal world with all its cares and griefs, despite all its errors and frailties, is subject to the command of this King – is not the present, too, a part of the Kingdom of this One Ruler? Does not, then, even the most ephemeral, most sorrowful moment of the present, if it is spent beneath His sovereignty and in His loyal service, offer and assure us all the joys that can mature only beneath the sunshine of His eternity? Must we seek eternity only in the world to come? Does not our eternity already begin here within ourselves? Are we not already in the midst of this realm of eternity, beneath the banner of מלך העולם.

Rambam (Hilchot Meilah, 8:8): It is appropriate for a person to meditate on the laws of the holy Torah and know their ultimate purpose according to his capacity. If he cannot find a reason or a motivating rationale for a practice, he should not regard it lightly. Nor should he break through to ascend to G-d, lest G-d burst forth against him. One’s thoughts concerning them should not be like his thoughts concerning other ordinary matters… The mishpatim are those mitzvot whose motivating rationale is openly revealed and the benefit of their observance in this world is known, e.g., the prohibitions against robbery and bloodshed and honoring one’s father and mother. The chukim are the mitzvot whose motivating rationales are not known. Our Sages said: “I chukim and you have no license to question them.” A person’s yetzer ha’ara confronts him concerning these laws and the nations of the world challenge them, e.g., the prohibition of the meat of a pig, milk and meat, the calf whose neck is broken, the red heifer, and the goat sent to Azazel… Through the performance of the chukim and the mishpatim the righteous merit the life in the World to Come. And between the two of them, the Torah lists the chukim first, as it states (Vayikra 18:5) “And you shall heed My decrees and judgments which a person will perform and live through them.”

Questions for Discussion

In observance of a certain law or mitzvah, is it possible for there to be a conflict between the Torah’s “this-wordly” concerns and its concerns for Olam ha’Ba? If so, how would we reconcile or resolve such a conflict?
Why does the Torah have laws to further the stability/welfare of society? Why not just leave that up to human wisdom and legislation?
How does observing laws of the Torah earn us Olam ha’Ba?
What is Olam ha’Ba?
What happens if a person’s religious observance is too focused on the benefits of Torah in this world? What if it is too focused on Olam ha’Ba?