[Aspaqlaria] A month of postings

[Micha Berger]

Technical problems kept the past month’s posts from reaching email subscribers. My apologies for both the delay, and this long resulting email.

 

-Micha

Aspaqlaria <http://www.aishdas.org/asp> 

 

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*         Angry at G-d <http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Aspaqlaria/~3/175499975/angry-at-g-d.shtml> 

Posted: Tue, 30 Oct 2007 20:59:04 -0500

A friend of mine wrote this morning about his three experiences with cancer in his immediate family. He was equipped to handle his wife’s bout, abut by the time he had to deal with it for the third time, he tells me that all he felt was anger, anger at G-d. His tefillos that Rosh haShanah he describes as mechanically filling the obligation.

In this week’s parashah, Avraham famously riles at Hashem. Upon being told of Hashem’s plans to destroy the five towns of the Sodom plains, Avraham takes it for granted that there must be someone there worth saving, other than his nephew Lot and his family. “הַאַף תִּסְפֶּה, צַדִּיק עִם-רָשָׁע? Would You even sweep away the righteous person with the evil one?” (18:23) And so it goes for the next two pesuqim, when Avraham still assumes there are 50 people among the five cities who are worth saving. Now, admittedly, he immediately catches himself when he realizes that the assumption was wrong. And Avraham avinu uses less confrontational language during the rest of his attempt negotiation. “וַיַּעַן אַבְרָהָם, וַיֹּאמַר ‘הִנֵּה-נָא הוֹאַלְתִּי לְדַבֵּר אֶל-ה’, וְאָנֹכִי עָפָר וָאֵפֶר’ — Here, please, I have presumed to speak to Hashem, and I am but sand and ashes.” (v. 27) But that first outburst is recorded, and we are never told it was wrong on Avraham’s part.

Doesn’t Moshe rabbeinu, the most humble man in history, express anger at Hashem when he says “If You would, forgive their sin; and if not, please erase me from the book You have written” (Shemos 32:32)?

It would seem that there is an appropriate time for anger. When someone hears of something that seems like a great wrong, it would be insensitive of him not to respond with outrage. Although it’s interesting to note that in both examples, the injustice would have been aimed at a third party. There is no personal motive in either case. And Hashem even lauds examples of where that anger is directed at Him!

Anger is part of any relationship. We are called into partnership with Him in finishing His creation — of the world, of ourselves, even of expounding the Torah. Can a human being participate in a successful partnership without ever feeling angry at their partner? Marriages are not built on avoiding fighting, but on learning how and when to fight productively.

When someone gets angry at Hashem for something that happens to them, there are a number of positive assumptions motivating that anger.

By getting angry one is participating in a personal connection to the Creator. Hashem is real, I am relating to Him. He is the Cause of something I didn’t want to happen. If as part of a healthy relationship, it could be a positive thing. Far more troubling would be the distance from Hashem implied by apathy.

After all, we are the Benei Yisrael. How did we get the name Yisrael? Because Yaaqov avinu battled an angel, and the angel responded: “וַיֹּאמֶר, ‘לֹא יַעֲקֹב יֵאָמֵר עוֹד שִׁמְךָ–כִּי, אִם-יִשְׂרָאֵל; כִּי-שָׂרִיתָ עִם-אֱ-לֹהִים וְעִם-אֲנָשִׁים, וַתּוּכָל’ — And he said, ‘No longer will they call you Yaaqov, but rather Yisrael; for you have struggled with G-d and with people, and succeeded.’”

Anger at G-d may seem inappropriate. But not being motivated to struggle with our unanswerable questions about His Actions is far, far worse.

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*         Anger and the Golden Mean <http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Aspaqlaria/~3/175499977/anger-and-the-golden-mean.shtml> 

Posted: Tue, 30 Oct 2007 20:57:49 -0500

(I invite people to visit my analysis of the Orchos Tzadiqim’s psychological model. Among the points I discuss is the relationship between dei’os and middos. In painful brevity: a dei’ah is a feature of one’s psyche — which in turn is something performed by the soul. All people have the same set of dei’os. A middah, which literally means measure, is the dimensions it assumes in a particular person’s makeup. I believe the Rambam uses the term dei’ah in this sense.)

When it comes to anger, the question of whether one should seek the middle path is more complex. The Rambam’s Hilkhos Dei’os seems to contradict itself — which is impossible, given the attention he paid every word in the code. A contradiction in two adjacent chapters is beyond unlikely. So the question is finding the subtle nuance that distinguishes the two laws.

Emanuel O’Levy allowed Jon Baker to place his colloquial translation of the first three books of Maimonides’ code <http://www.panix.com/%E7jjbaker/rambam.html>  on line. So, even though it’s a far looser translation than I’d like, it’s available for easy cut-n-paste so I’m using it.

>From Chapter I:

3) There are two opposite extremes to each and every temperament (dei’ah), one of which will not be a good mannerism and which is not fitting to follow or to teach to oneself. If one finds that one’s nature is tending to one of these temperaments or is being directed by one of them, or that one has already learnt about it and accustomed oneself to it, then one should return to good and go in the ways of good - this is the way of the upright.

4) The way of the upright is [to adopt] the intermediate characteristic of each and every temperament that people have. This is the characteristic that is equidistant from the two extremes of the temperament of which it is a characteristic, and is not closer to either of the extremes. Therefore, the first Sages commanded that one’s temperaments should always be such, and that one should postulate on them and direct them along the middle way, in order that one will have a perfect body. How is this done? One should not be of an angry disposition and be easily angered, nor should one be like a dead person who does not feel, but one should be in the middle - one should not get angry except over a big matter about which it is fitting to get angry, so that one will not act similarly again. Likewise, one should not have lust except for those things which the body needs and without which cannot survive, as it is written, “The righteous eat to satisfy his soul”. Similarly, one should not labour at one’s business, but one should obtain what one needs on an hourly basis, as it is written, “A little that a righteous man has is better, et cetera”. Nor should one be miserly or wasteful with one’s money, but one should give charity according to what one can spare, and lend as fitting to whoever needs. One should not be [excessively] praised or merry, and nor should one be sorrowful or miserable, but one should be happy for all one’s days in satisfaction and with a pleasant expression on one’s face. One should apply a similar principle to the other temperaments - this is the way of the wise.

5) Any man whose temperaments are intermediate is called wise. One who is particular with himself and moves away from the middle ways to either extreme is called pious. What does this mean? One who distances himself from pride by moving to its complete opposite of meekness is called pious, for this is a characteristic of piety. But if he distances himself only half-way and becomes humble he is called wise, for this is a characteristic of wisdom. The first pious people kept their temperaments from the middle ways and towards one of the extremes - one temperament they would bias one way, and another the other way [and as appropriate], but this is going beyond what the law requires.

6) We are commanded to go in these middle ways, the good and upright ways, as it is written, “And walk in His ways, et cetera”. As an explanation of this commandment, we have learnt that just as God shows mercy so also should we show mercy, that just as God is merciful so also should we be merciful, and that just as God is holy so also should we be holy. It was with this in mind that the first Prophets called the Almighty with the Attributes of: long-suffering, magnanimous, righteous, upright, faultless, mighty, strong, et cetera, in order to make it known that these are good and upright ways, and that one is obligated to accustom oneself to them, and to make one’s ways as similar to them as possible.

7) How should one regulate oneself with these temperaments so that one is directed by them? One should do, change one and change one’s actions which one does according to the intermediate temperaments and always go back over them, until such actions are easy for one to do and will not be troublesome for one, and until such temperaments are fixed in one’s soul. This way is known as the way of the Lord, for the reasons that the Creator has been called by them and that they are the intermediate characteristics which we are obligated to adopt. This is what Abraham taught his sons, as it is written, “For I know him, that he will command his children, et cetera”. One who goes in this way will bring upon himself good and blessings, as it is written, “…that the Lord may bring upon Abraham that which He has spoken of him”.

So, using the terminology I suggested, the Rambam is saying that the Chakham should aspire for middos in which each dei’ah is at the middle point between the extremes. The key tool recommended (so far) for doing so is habituation.

It also seems that this middle is not only being described as half of each conflicting dei’ah, but a mixture, a synthesis, of both. So that a person is using all of the skills given to him as an image of G-d.

>From Chapter II:

3) There are some intermediate temperaments which one is forbidden to have, but one should adopt one of the extremities of such temperaments. One of these is the temperament of haughtiness. It is not good [enough] for one to be just modest, but one should be meek, and one’s spirits should be low. Therefore, concerning Moses our Teacher it is written, “…very meek”, and not just, “meek”. Therefore, the Sages commanded that one should be very meek. They said further that anyone who raises his spirits is denying the essence, as it is written, “…then your heart be lifted up and you forget the Lord your God”. They also said that all those with haughty airs should be excommunicated, even if they are only slightly haughty. It is the same with anger, which is an extremely bad temperament and from which it is fitting for one to distance oneself as far as its opposite extreme. One should teach oneself not to get angry, even over something about which it would be normal to get angry. If one wanted to instill fear in one’s sons or members of one’s household, or in the community if one was their leader, and one wants to be angry at them in order that they will return to the good [ways], then one should show them that one is being angry at them just to correct them, and, when displaying such anger, one should bear in mind that one is like a man who is similar to being angry, and that one is not really angry. The first Sages said that if one is angry, it is as if one has worshiped idols. They also said that when a man gets angry, then if he was wise his wisdom leaves him, and if he was a prophet his prophecy leaves him, and that the life of angry people is not [really] a life. Therefore, they commanded us to distance ourselves from anger until one is accustomed to not getting any angry feelings at even annoying things. This is the good way. The way of the righteous is to be humble without being humbled, not to answer back when disgraced, to do things out of love and to be joyous in suffering. Scripture says about them, “…but let them who love Him be as the sun when it comes out in its might”.

The Rambam appears to be contractictin himself. In 1:4, he advises “one should not get angry except over a big matter about which it is fitting to get angry.” But in chapter two , anger is comparable to idolatry, and to be avoided in all circumstances!

The Lechem Mishnah understands the Rambam to be recommending the Middle Path in all cases. However, since anger and egotism are so dangerous, one end of the spectrum is far more hazardous than the other. Therefore, the Chassid chooses to err on the side of caution, and lean toward avoiding them rather than stay in the ideal, the middle. The Lechem Mishnah makes a linguistic note. By most dei’os, the Rambam refers to pursuing the beinonis. But here the middle is described as emtza’is — it is not the middle distance between both extremes, but the mean taking into account the severity of either side. This distinction is the point of chapter 2.

Rav Moshe Feinstein (Igeros Moshe, Orach Chaim 1:54) explains the seeming contradiction differently. The Rambam’s apparently conflicting advice parallels that of our sages.

In Ta’anis 4, the gemara declares that any talmid chakham who is not as tough as iron is no talmid chakham. However, in Pirqei Avos (5:11) we are told that a chassid is “difficult to anger and easy to appease.” According to Rabbein Gershom Me’or haGolah, the advice is as follows. If a teacher believes he is right and stands up and fights for his position, but then backs down, people will assume he wasn’t as sure as he claimed or realized he was wrong, and is using the anger to mask his incompetence. He will thereby cause people not to follow the truth, his original position, and it will lead them to dismiss his wisdom in the future. And thus, we till not be seen as a teacher (”he is no talmid chakham“). In Avos, it’s discussing the case of someone who actually made an obvious error. And therefore it would be wrong to become angry and defend his error. Anyone who sees him stand up for the truth above his own honor would realize, and think more of him.

Similarly, Rav Moshe understands the Rambam 1:4 as speaking of getting angry over important matters, so that his display and attitude prevent their repetition. However, when one can’t readily see the error, the anger just seems inane and doesn’t help anyone. In this case, one should follow the advice in chapter 2, and avoid anger.

Unfortunately, I was unable to satisfy my own frustration at understanding the Rambam since I couldn’t fit either suggestion into his words.

The Rambam’s exact words in 2:3 are “אלא יתרחק עד הקצה האחר — but he should distance himself until the other extreme”. Not “el - toward”, but “ad - until”. That makes it hard for me to embrace the Lechem Mishnah’s interpretation that the Rambam was saying that one finds an emtza, weighted average based on the evil of anger or egotism even when compared to the opposite extremes. And with respect to modesty, the Rambam even writes “מאוד מאוד הוי שפל רוח — be of very very low ego.”

Rav Moshe’s position assumes that the two are discussing different situations. When anger is productive, in standing up for something right that others may not otherwise realize is important, then one needs the middle path. But when someone makes a mistake, standing up for one’s error is misplaced, and therefore one should avoid anger in the extreme. However, the Rambam discusses general advice, what should be someone’s approach to the dei’ah in general. In one chapter, follow G-d and assume the middle/synthesis. In the other, avoid anger altogether because it’s tantamount to idolatry.

A possible resolution that seemed more straightforward to me is suggested by the Rambam’s words (also from 1:4). Obviously, advice about how to be a good Jew carries more weight when informed by the Lechem Mishnah’s knowledge or Rav Moshe’s, but this is how one person naively read the Rambam’s approach(es) to anger:

Any man whose temperaments are intermediate is called wise. One who is particular with himself and moves away from the middle ways to either extreme is called pious. What does this mean? One who distances himself from pride by moving to its complete opposite of meekness is called pious, for this is a characteristic of piety. But if he distances himself only half-way and becomes humble he is called wise, for this is a characteristic of wisdom.

Maimonides is defining two possible paths: the Chakham (Wise), and the Chassid (Pious). Both laudable ideals. In the majority of chapter 1, he addresses the path he himself took, that of the Chakham — finding the middle. In chapter 2, when he discusses modesty he clearly describes the Chassid approach. It would seem the same would be true of his discussion of anger in chapter 2.

(Similarly, the gemara in Ta’anis speaks of the iron-strength of the talmid chakham, whereas the mishnah in Avos describes the person as a chassid.)

Another possibility is that chapter 2 isn’t focusing on an ideal, but rather on how to cure a defect in one’s middos. From the previous law in that chapter:

2) How do they cure? They tell someone who is of an angry disposition to establish himself, and that if he is hit or cursed he should not react, and he should follow this way until his angry disposition has left him. If he was haughty, he should subject himself to a lot of disgrace and sit low down, and should dress in torn rags which are a discredit to normal clothes, and do similar things until his haughtiness has left him and he returns to the middle way, which is the good way. Once he has returned to the middle way he should follow it for the rest of his life. Other temperaments should be treated in this manner - if one was far over to one extreme, one should move oneself to the other extreme and accustom oneself to it for a long time, until one has returned to the good way, which is the intermediate characteristic that each and every temperament has.

Contrast that to the advice in 1:6, that the person “is obligated to accustom oneself to them” and 1:7, “One should do, change one and change one’s actions which one does according to the intermediate temperaments and always go back over them.”

One can combine these notions. The ideal, as described in chapter 1, is to follow the middle path in everything. To live that ideal is described in laws 6 and 7 (above) as “one is obligated to accustom oneself to them” and “One should do, change one and change one’s actions which one does according to the intermediate temperaments and always go back over them”. Habituation.

The Chassid ַadapts that situationally. When speaking of the more severe possible errors, one can’t rely on waiting for habit to set in. Instead we focus on a “cure procedure”, to tend to the other extreme. Training the vine by pulling it beyond where you want it to settle.

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*         Yisrael, Yaaqov and Beis Yaaqov <http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Aspaqlaria/~3/175499976/yisrael-yaaqov-and-beis-yaaqov.shtml> 

Posted: Wed, 31 Oct 2007 16:50:09 -0500

Someone asked on soc.culture.jewish:

Today in my Women In Hebrew Bible class we talked about how Yaakov (Jacob) was renamed Yisrael (Israel). This was a way of redeeming him of all his past trickery. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for Yaakov. He is, after all, my favorite Patriarch. But he was quite a sneaky fellow in his young life….

She then repeats the argument that it was therefore appropriate that the institution was called “Beis Yaakov” rather than “Beis Yisrael”, since they had to trick the guys into letting them have an education. First, I can’t help but note the sad state of education this represents. I hope it is not typical of what goes on as non-Orthodox adult education. But to get to the point…

Here’s my reply, from the same forum. Others already quoted the pasuq “ko somar leveis Yaaqov vesagid livnei Yisrael — so you shall say to the House of Jacob, and instruct the Children of Israel”, which our Sages (as quoted by Rashi) interpret as gently telling (tomar) the women (Beis Yaaqov) and using “words as tough as sinews (gidin)” (tagid) to the men (Benei Yisrael). So I began simply by summarizing the point.

The sages understood the term “vesomeir leveis Yaaqov” as a commandment to Moses to teach something to the women of his generation. Seems like a pretty solid argument.

Then, in reply to the last sentence quoted in particular:

In much the same way Abraham had to go through the Aqeida (the Binding of Isaac). Jacob’s natural inclination was to be honest, a deep pursuit of truth. As the prophet begs, “Give truth to Jacob, lovingkindness to Abraham, as You promised in days of old.” Look how Isaac’s fatherly blindness kept him from seeing Esau’s faults. In comparison to Javob, who identified the strength and uniqueness of each of his sons, and blessed (or cautioned) each accordingly. Might be why Jacob produced 12 keepers of the covenant, whereas Abraham and Isaac each failed with one of their sons. (But did Abraham fail? Ishmael, in the end, repented. But only after mis-raising his own children.)

Israel is the name of the Image of Man carved on the Divine Throne (as described in Ezekiel). After their all-night battle the angel calls Jacob “Israel”, meaning the one on the course spiritually upward, on the road toward that idealization. (And the human ideal is a road, not a final state…)

The renaming is not the redemption of a trickster, but G-d acknowledging that Jacob broke through that level, passed the test, and was ready to establish the Kingdom of Priests.

If anything, calling a girl’s school “Beis Yaakov” would imply that they are teaching a group of potential Images of G-d, who are still the custom there. works in progress. Pretty much true for any school.

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*         Gratitude <http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Aspaqlaria/~3/175499978/gratitude.shtml> 

Posted: Wed, 31 Oct 2007 16:45:16 -0500

I 

I noticed that there are two types of middos — intransitive and transitive. I mean those terms in the grammatical sense: Intransitive middos have no object, no specific target. Sadness is what I would call an intransitive middah, as it’s a state of mind rather than part of a relationship with another. Transitive ones express an attitude toward an object. Something close to a transitive version of sadness is disappointment; we don’t get sad at someone, but we can be disappointed in them.

Admittedly the line gets blurry when one discusses a transitive middah but it’s about the relationship between me and myself. Is frustration with oneself really transitive? But we do feel a subtle difference when frustrated with ourselves and frustrated with “the universe”, with no specific target.

A second distinction I would like to draw before plunging into the topic of gratitude is that between perceptions and responses. We do not respond to the world, we respond to how we perceive the world. A while back I wrote <http://www.aishdas.org/asp/2005/01/free-will-and-environment.shtml>  about the conflict in psychological circles about the origins of our personalities, the famous debate of “nature vs. nurture”. I asked what room either option (or both) would leave for free will. I noted that if one takes the “nurture”, i.e. the environment side, one is assuming that people respond to the world, not respond to the word as we choose to see it. Like the famous picture that looks either like a beautiful young woman or her cronish mother (see the earlier entry for the picture), we choose how we see the world.

We can choose to be frustrated with a child not following our directions, or challenged by the lack of language comprehension or organization skills that we still need to teach them. The choice is ours. Perhaps not while “in the moment”; the arena in which we are conflicted enough for the process to require conscious internal debate. As Rav Dessler would put it, our bechirah point may be elsewhere at this moment in our lives. But we can develop our middos with regard to our perception and change them in the long run.

Based on that perception, we respond. Often outwardly, but always there is an internal reaction. Anger is a response. The perception leads to frustration, frustration to anger.

Looking at gratitude, I am tempted to take some of the more discussed middos and break them down into a perception component and a response component. But I do not know if the generalization works. Does the term “ka’as” similarly refer only to the response, the way the word “anger” does (as I used it above)? There are so many different elements to anger, not all of which necessarily in play each time (frustration, blame, an egotistical expectation that I should be getting my way, etc…) , that I am inclined to believe that it is actually only about the common element in the response. But I am still unsure.

II

In the case of gratitude, there is certainly both an element of perception and of response.

The perception, in turn, also has two elements: Intransitive and transitive. In this section, I want to look at these two elements of the perception of gratitude.

I can feel grateful for having this apple. I have hakaras hatov, literally, a recognition of the good that is before me. I am happy because I have something to enjoy.

Then, I can turn it into a transitive feeling, going beyond being grateful for what I have, to look at who I am receiving from. I make a berakhah, I thank the One Who made this apple possible.

Similarly, when I say Modeh Ani, the prayer contains both elements: I am aware of the gift a new day is, having new opportunities. Then I thank Hashem for giving me that beautiful and precious thing that is a day.

Within the hakaras hatov aspect of the perception, looking at what good we have in our lives, we can be aware of the same good thing in more or less detail. We can be grateful for the apple. Or, we can be grateful that Hashem made it possible for people to plant the tree, sell it to the wholesaler, provide the means for an open market in apples, all the many elements that go into my wife finding it in a store display, her loving me and wanting me to have something to enjoy and eat healthier, and her buying it for me. Notice how, by spelling out the detail, one realizes more fully the greatness of the tov. The closer we look, the larger it looms.

This is a primary lesson in meseches Berakhos. The gemara has discussions for dozens of pages over which berakhah to make on what food. Why? Does our thanks for a banana really depend on whether we thank Hashem calling it the fruit of a tree, or whether we recognize that a banana “tree” is a perennial, and therefore we should thank Him for “the fruit of the ground”? I think that’s just the point — the attention to detail is critical. Without it, one can not fully recognize the good Hashem does for us.

Along with recognizing the full extent of the good we receive is acknowledging that there is a provider.

This is a central theme of Sukkos. On Sukkos we relive the Exodus, we again live in huts to commemorate the huts (man made or clouds) that we had in the desert. The Exodus was the one time in human history where all of man’s needs were provided for supernaturally, in a manner obviously of the “Hand” of G-d. My Sukkah is a reminder that the safety provided by my home is no less from Hashem than that experience was. And that our thanks to Hashem must be no less than theirs. This is why Sukkos is Chag haAsif, a fall harvest festival, involving the plants of Israel at a time when people are bringing crops in before the rainy season. It is not “kokhi ve’otzem yadi — my strength, and the might of my hand”. My success had a Provider.

Rabbi Ari Zivitofsky once mailed me a reprint of an article of his which reinforces this point. When we entered Israel with Yehoshua, we did so at the Yardein. The first plant we encountered were the “willows of the river”, as the Torah describes aravos. Next, we get to Yericho, the “city of date palms”, and Hashem provides a miracle to enable us to conquer it. Then, under Yehoshua, the people spread out through the central plain, where the fragrant bushes including hadasim grow. Last, toward the end of Yehoshua’s life and through the period of the Judges, we start settling along the Mediterannian coast, among the esrogim and other citrus fruit. Thus, while not all of the four species are crops, they are very much a reminder to be grateful. By holding the four species, are reminded of Hashem giving us the land and its flora.

And the number of things to be grateful for our countless. A number of years ago, my daughter fell off a cliff onto a bed of rocks. Through Hashem’s Grace, she was given a clean bill of health not three months later; the broken bones rewoven, the torn tissue healed, and no permanent damage (b”H and ba”h). So, my wife an I made a Qiddush. But what about every child who ever day doesn’t fall off a cliff? Every time we cross the street, and no car comes turning around the corner? Think how many things go right every day that we so take for granted we don’t think to thank Hashem and other people for providing; and we would even be immobilized and overwhelmed if we try?

III

Why is this way of perceiving the world, to be grateful for everything we get, so difficult? To draw on Rav Shimon Shkop’s thought (introduction to Shaarei Yosher <http://http:/www.aishdas.org/asp/ShaareiYosher.pdf> ):

[I]in the very foundation of the creation of Adam, the Creator planted in him a very great measure of propensity to love himself. The sages of truth describe the purpose of all the work in this language, “The Infinite wanted to bestow complete good, that there wouldn’t even be the embarrassment of receiving.” This discussion reveals how far the power of loving oneself goes, that “a person is more content with one qav [a unit of measure] of his own making than [he would be of] two qavin that are given to him” – even if from the Hand of the Holy One! – if the present is unearned.

>From here it should be self-evident that love of oneself is desired by the Holy One, even though “the wise shall walk because of it and the foolish will stumble over it.” In my opinion, this is true despite all the evil and sin that the world is full of because of this middah of self-love. Added to the challenge of wealth, this middah will cause him to stumble until the depths, as it is written, “Lest I grow full and deny.” Because of the greatness of a person’s attachment to his own qav, if Hashem graced him with wealth, and he believes with complete true faith that everything is the Holy One’s, he is in truth poor. What he has isn’t his. However, if he denies G-d, then it is all his and he is in his own mind truly wealthy. Therefore, to satisfy his desire to enjoy his wealth, he will habituate himself to deny G-d, and then his error is complete. …

How could we not take things for granted? How could we plan our actions, to be autonomous creative beings, if we couldn’t plan based on expecting things to go as usual? Our need to be people requires shoving things not under our control to the mental background, and to focus on and take pride in that which we can produce. To create, we need to love ourselves and what we create.

This in turn explains why Chag haAsif, Sukkos as the holiday of gratitude, is also “Zeman Simchaseinu“, our period of greatest joy. Rav Shimon, continued:

With this one can explain what is said, “Yismach Mosheh… Moses will be joyous with the giving of his portion, because You called him a reliable servant.” There is no joy in receiving a bit of wisdom unless he is a reliable servant who possesses nothing, that it is all his Master’s. Only then there is complete joy in acquiring wisdom. Without this [attitude] it is possible that there is no happiness in acquiring wisdom, for it through it he is capable of defending to heresy.

Only through being grateful can we handle being recipients with simchah, with joy.

There are a number of entries on the topic of simchah <http://http:/www.aishdas.org/asp/category/mussar/middos/simchah> , relating the contentment-happiness of “Who is wealthy? One who is samei’ch with his lot” and the need to be an idealist in order to properly see one’s lot in life and its value. Thus, “uleyishrei leiv simchah — the straight-of-heart have simchah“. And only the yishrei leiv have gratitude, can overcome the need for it to be his qav, because it’s the goal that matters.

IV

When it comes to responses, gratitude engenders two kinds of changes in how we relate to the one who provided for us.

The first I would call shib’ud. This is the shif’il conjugation of the root that gives us avodah (work, service) and eved (servant). Shif’il is an Aramaic conjugation, borrowed here into Mishnaic Hebrew, meaning a minor servitude. In modern terms, since that metaphor no longer resonates, we would use fiscal language - indebtedness.

Shib’ud is a good response, in that it shows a real hakaras hatov. However, it is suboptimal — good, not great. Shib’ud is the setting up of a favor bank, and trying to keep one’s balance in the positive. After all, if I can repay someone’s favor, I am a self-made person again, my self-love unthreatened. The qav is mine, I paid for it!

However, a superior response is “todah“. First, to return again to the introduction to Shaarei Yosher:

Although at first glance it seems that feelings of love for oneself and feelings of love for others are like competing co-wives one to the other, we have the duty to try to delve into it, to find the means to unite them, since Hashem expects both from us. This means [a person must] explain and accept the truth of the quality of his “I”, for with it the statures of [different] people are differentiated, each according to their level. The entire “I” of a coarse and lowly person is restricted only to his substance and body. Above him is someone who feels that his “I” is a synthesis of body and soul. And above him is someone who can include in his “I” all of his household and family. Someone who walks according to the way of the Torah, his “I” includes the whole Jewish people, since in truth every Jewish person is only like a limb of the body of the nation of Israel. And there are more levels in this of a person who is whole, who can connect his soul to feel that all of the world and worlds are his “I”, and he himself is only one small limb in all of creation. Then, his self-love helps him love all of the Jewish people and [even] all of creation.

In my opinion, this idea is hinted at in Hillel’s words, as he used to say, “If I am not for me, who will be for me? And when I am for myself, what am I?” It is fitting for each person to strive to be concerned for himself. But with this, he must also strive to understand that “I for myself, what am I?”

In the ideal, I can acknowledge what I receive from others because I can realize that they are not outside of my “I”. We are parts of a single greater whole.

What does “todah” mean? As it stands, it means “thanks”. The same root conjugated as “vidui” means to “confess”. Last, when the mishnah wants to stress that something is outside of a dispute, “hakol modim” — “all agree”. What do thanks, confession and agreement have in common?

When I thank someone, I acknowledge his actions had an impact on me. When I confess, I am admitting that my actions had an impact on him. And when we are modim, we realize that an idea isn’t mine or yours, but ours. The point in common in the three uses of the root is a realization of connectedness. I wrote last year <http://www.aishdas.org/asp/2006/04/roads-and-cities.shtml> :

Do roads exist to connect cities, or do cities exist to serve the roads? We naturally assume the former, that roads are built to allow people and goods to travel from one center to another.

However, historically speaking, it’s usually the reverse. Medina, in Saudi Arabia, grew from the crossroads of trading routes. Canaan was at the crossroads of three continents, and its very name comes from the word for “traders”. This is why the Israel of Na”kh was so often crossed by the soldiers of Assyria and Egypt, en route to the other to battle. And being at a traffic center placed us in the ideal situation to influence world thought. Because of the centrality of shipping, New York, Baltimore and Boston all grew around their harbors, and many European cities are on rivers — London, Paris, Budapest, Frankfurt, etc…

…

Moshe Rabbeinu lacked his full prophetic gift from the time of the Golden Calf until the rise of the next generation. The Or haChaim explains that this is because “Kol Yisrael areivim zeh bazeh” (Shevu’os 39a, as more reliably recorded in the Ein Yaaqov), which is usually translated “All Jews are guarantors one for another”. That’s consistent with another version of the quote, which ends “lazeh” (for this). However, “ba-”, in, implies a different meaning of the word “areivim”, mixture. All Jews are mixed, one into the other. Moshe’s soul did not stand alone, it is connected and overlaps those of the rest of the nation. When they lowered themselves with the calf, Moshe’s soul was diminished.

We are called Yehudim because only the descendants of the Kingdom of Judea returned after the Babylonian Exile, and of those tribes, Yehudah’s perspective dominated. We are Jews because, as Leah said upon naming her son, “Hapa’am odeh es Hashem — this time, I will thank G-d”. To be a Jew is to be a thanker, to acknowledge the connection.

Note that this implies a strong connection between Yom Kippur as a day of vidui, and Sukkos, the holiday of hoda’ah and consequent simchah. Vidui leads to an awareness of my role as a contributor in the greater whole, from which follows hoda’ah, an awareness of all I gain as being part of that whole. And knowing that one lives for a greater good is the key to simchah, happiness in the sense of contentment with one’s lot and role in life.

And this is why the founding of what would become the Jewish People had to be with an Exodus-like experience, leading us to hakaras hatov for our Creator and from there to true hoda’ah and areivus as one community.

 <http://feeds.feedburner.com/~f/Aspaqlaria?a=edlrtkjZ>  <http://feeds.feedburner.com/~f/Aspaqlaria?a=CM11s152> 

*         Shemittah <http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Aspaqlaria/~3/175499979/shemittah.shtml> 

Posted: Wed, 31 Oct 2007 16:50:57 -0500

( You will notice that this entry is pretty much straight lomdus rather than my usual fare. When I wrote Rafi’s bar mitzvah speech, I ran overly long. Here is an even longer earlier edition, but one that is more complete in covering my thoughts on the subject. -mi)

In parashas Behar (25:18), it says:

“Vesapharta lekha sheva` shabasos shanim sheva` shanim sheva` pe`amim vehayu lekha yemei sheva` shabasos hashanim teisha vi’arbai`im shanah.”

“And you shall count for yourself seven sabbaths of years seven years seven times and i shall be for you the days of the seven sabbaths of years 49 years.”

The Torah here is discussing the mitzvah of Yovel, of the Jubilee year. The word “yovel” refers to the blast of the shofar which is blown on Yom Kippur of the Jubilee year. In that year, any land that was divided by Joshua amongst the tribes is returned to the family that it was allotted to. Also, in the yovel year, all slaves are freed.

Yovel only applies when “kol yosheveha aleha — all of Israel’s inhabitants live on it”. Only when the majority of all 12 tribes and Levi are living within their ancestral borders — again, as Yehoshu’a divided them — does Yovel apply. There has not been a Yovel since the fall of the Kingdom of Israel, or perhaps even since the tribes in Transjordan were exiled, in the first Temple period.

The Torah is being pretty wordy, and that isn’t its normal style. Usually, the Torah will use the fewest words possible to get the idea across. Extra words imply extra, not obvious, ideas.

The Torah tells us that there is a mitzvah to count the number of years between two yovelos, two jubilee years. But why does Hashem spell out that we should count 7 cycles of seven years, and then again to count 49 years? Do we need Hashem to tell us that seven times seven is forty-nine? Can’t we do the math ourselves?

When it comes to the mitzvah of counting omer, the Torah uses similar terms. Omer is a special grain sacrifice brought during this time of year, every day from the 2nd day of Pesach, of Passover, until Shavuos. During this period there is also an obligation to count out 49 days. For example, last night we said, in Hebrew, “Today is 42 days which is 6 weeks in the omer.” There are two parts, counting 42 days, and counting 6 weeks.

For counting omer, the Torah in Vayikra (23:15) says:

“Vesafartem lachem mimocharas hashabas miyom havi’achem es omer hatenufah sheva` shabasos temimos tihyenah. Ad mimacharas hashabas hashevi`is, tisperu chamishim yom.”

“And you shall count for yourselves from the day after the day of rest, from the day you bring the raised omer offering it shall be seven whole weeks until the day after the seventh week, you shall count fifty days”.

The two are very similar, but we can also see some subtle differences.

The first is that by omer the Torah speaks in the plural — “vesafartem” is “and you shall count” when “you” means many people. By our pasuq, by yovel, the word is “vesaphrta”, “and you will count” speaking to only one “you”.

This is because the mitzvah of counting for yovel isn’t on each and every Jew, the way omer is. Each of us count omer. Each person needs to prepare themselves for Shavuos, for reliving getting the Torah. Yovel is one mitzvah for the entire Jewish people as a whole. The one “you” counting the years toward yovel is the nation.

Since we can’t all count together, Sanhedrin has the obligation to count as the representatives of Benei Yisra’el.

The Hapanim Yafos says that the reason why the math is spelled out by yovel is for the same reason as by omer. We learn from the pasuq by omer that we need to count both 49 days and seven weeks. As we said there are two parts to the count. Similarly when Sanhedrin would count the years toward yovel, they would have to count that it was “the 39th year” as well as being “the 5th cycle of 7 years, the 4th year of that cycle”.

There is a mitzvah that comes in cycles of 7 years, one that we just started, called shemittah. In the seventh year, the shemittah year, farmers in Israel are not permitted to work the land. The land of Israel rests. Also, in that year, all loans are forgiven.

The Torah is combining the mitzvos of shemittah and yovel, of the sabbatical and jubilee years. In fact, it is the opinion of Rebbe (given in the Yerushalmi, Shevi`is, 10:2) that whenever one does not apply, neither does the other. Since there is no yovel, shemittah today can not be the real mitzvah. We observe it only as a commemoration, to keep the mitzvah alive until we do once again live in Israel.

When Rebbe’s opinion appears in the Talmud Bavli, though, it is cited as part of a disagreement. Rebbe still says that shemittah today is not the biblical mitzvah, but his peers, the other rabbis, say that it is. That even without yovel, the Torah’s idea of shemittah still stands.

The later sages, Abayei and Rava, are quoted in the Talmud in three places trying to explain various rulings about shemittah in light of this debate. As we will see, Abayei’s position is quite clear — he assumes that the law is like Rebbe, that shemittah isn’t the biblical shemittah, and therefore one can take some leniencies. Rava’s isn’t as straightforward.

The first of these discussions is in MO (Modern Orthodox)’ed Katan 2b. There the mishnah says that one may water a fields that is on a slope, and must be watered manually, during the shemittah year. The gemara asks how this is permissible — how is one permitted to tend a field by watering it during shemittah? Abayei answers that the mishnah is like Rebbe. This wouldn’t be too surprising, since Rebbe is the one who compiled the entire structure of Mishnah, including this one. But this means that the mishnah permits watering a field on the side of a mountain because it assumes that shemittah today isn’t real shemittah.

Rava says that one can even say that the mishnah goes like the Rabbanan, the rabbis other than Rebbe, who say that shemittah is from the Torah even today. However, the Torah only prohibited the av, the actual kind of tending one’s field as framed for the laws of resting on Shabbos. Shemittah does not include any tolados, other derivatives of the same basic idea that are close enough for Shabbos to prohibit. What is being permitted in the mishnah is only one of these tolados, derivatives.

Note that Rava doesn’t actually say that he holds like the other sages. It is possible that he personally rules that shemittah is no longer the biblical shemittah. However, in explaining the mishnah, he can understand the mishnah even without assuming its author agrees.

The second gemara is in Gitin (36b). This gemara should help us understand Rava’s position.

In Gitin, the gemara asks about the justification for the law of “pruzbul“. As we said, normally all loans end at shemittah, and can’t be collected any more. Hillel enacted a kind of loophole, called pruzbul. It’s a contract, by which the loan is handed over to the court and thereby there is no one person who is obligated to annul the loan. In this way, people would still be willing to lend money to those who need it — even late in the sixth year. If they need to collect on the loan, they can write up a pruzbul and still collect.

The gemara asks how Hillel could have enacted pruzbul — doesn’t is defy a major point of shemittah?

And again Abayei appeals to Rebbe’s idea to explain the leniency. Since this isn’t the biblical shemittah, Hillel is not overriding the Torah. Maybe we can explain Abayei’s idea further by suggesting that since shemittah today is a commemoration, one remembers the Torah’s mitzvah when he does the pruzbul, and that’s enough.

The gemara continues and asks: but still, you’re overriding an earlier Rabbinic enactment. Even with our suggested reasoning behind his ruling, how does Hillel have the authority to do override an earlier and greater court?

Rava provides an answer, but we’re not sure which question he’s answering: the original one — how can Hillel override shemittah? Or the later one — how can he override even rabbinic shemittah?

According to Rashi, Rava answers the original question. In other words, he is starting from ground zero, that shemittah isn’t necessarily from the rabbis. Instead Rava assumes that shemittah is from the Torah even today, and uses a different principle. Hefker beis din hefker — something a court declares ownerless is ownerless. One once they make it ownerless, they can give it to someone else. So, they can make the borrowed money ownerless and hand it back to the lender. And on those grounds, he justifies pruzbul.

In other words, Rashi says that Rava does hold like the other Rabbis, that the Torah’s shemittah applies even today.

Tosafos disagree with Rashi. They say he is coming to answer the second question and he is adding to Abayei’s answer. They say that even according to Rava, the law is like Rebbe, and we assume shemittah is NOT biblical.

Rava is answering how Hillel can overturn the earlier sages, those who said we should continue to observe shemittah as a commemoration. He says that Hillel doesn’t override them. Instead, the court is using its power to hand money from one person to another.

Tosafos therefore have no later sage who upholds the opinion that shemittah today is from the Torah, so they clearly rule that it isn’t.

But, Rashi makes this out to be a debate between Abayei and Rava as well. Abayei, like Rebbe, says that shemittah is only a commemoration; while Rava, like the other Rabbis of Rebbe’s day, says that the original Torah law still applies.

However, Rashi states his own position when explaining a third gemara. Sanhedrin (25a) again questions a leniency about shemittah. The Romans levied a new tax, and R’ Yanai allowed sowing during shemittah so that people could pay it in the seventh year too. Rashi there assumes that the law is Rabbinic, and R’ Yannai rules that they never imposed such a costly commemoration. Much like Abayei’s explanation of why one can water a field that is sloped.

In contrast to Rashi and Tosafos, the Ramban comments on Gitin, the gemara on pruzbul, that shemittah is from the Torah even today. After all, this is the majority opinion against Rebbe, and we almost always rule like the majority. This is also the opinion of the 19th century responsa of the Beis Haleivi and the Netziv.

On the other hand, the Me’iri on that gemara in Gitin is MORE lenient than anyone else we mentioned so far. He says that not only isn’t the mitzvah from the Torah, there isn’t even a rabbinic mitzvah of shemittah today! During the 2nd Temple period, a rabbinic yovel was observed. The Me’iri understands Rebbe to say that when that rabbinic yovel existed, there was also a rabbinic shemittah. However, today shemittah is only a minhag chassidus, a nice custom, not a halachah.

All this helps us understand our opening pasuq from the Torah. We are told to count “sheva` shabasos shanim” — seven sabbaths, shemittos, of years, because shemittah is inherently connected to yovel.

Perhaps we can go one step further. There is a debate in Eiruchin (24b) as to when the eighth shemittah ought to be. Should it be seven years after the previous shemittah, like the weeks, going by sevens forever? Or, do we not count the yovel year toward the seven for shemittah?

In the first opinion, given by R’ Yehudah, one yovel could be the year after the seventh shemittah. But the next shemittah will be only SIX years after that. So that by the time you get to the 50th year the next time around, it will be the SECOND year after shemittah. Yovel’s place within the shemittah cycle will drift.

Going back to the two quotes from the Torah at the beginning of this devar Torah, this is actually closer to counting omer. Omer too we are told to count 7 weeks, but we don’t mean starting on Sunday and keeping the weeks of omer in sync with the weeks of omer counting. Even though the word used in the Torah for week was “shabbasos” — Sabbaths. Instead, it is merely 7 period of 7 days. Whatever day of the week that period might end on.

So, when it says by yovel “shabbasos shanim — Sabbaths of years” it doesn’t mean 7 Sabbaticals, but merely 7 cycles of 7.

The second opinion would not count yovel toward the shemittah cycle. The first shemittah of every yovel would therefore be the 7th year of the yovel. Instead of shemittah being an independent cycle of 7 years, it is set up as the 7th, 14th, 21st and so on in the yovel cycle. Shemittah and Yovel are parts of the same cycle.

We could suggest a reason based on the opinion of Rebbe. He makes shemittah dependent on yovel because they are parts of one bigger picture. Which is why they’re on the same cycle.

Looking at it the other way, if you say that yovel doesn’t count toward the shemittah cycle, what happens to shemittah when there is no Yovel? Because yovel isn’t skipped, shemittah is in a different pattern than it used to be. Which fits Rebbe, who says it’s only commemorative.

In which case, we can answer one last question. The Ramban rules that shemittah is still a Torah law, following the principle of ruling like the majority. How then can anyone else rule otherwise?

However, in the debate about whether to count yovel amongst the 7 years toward shemittah, it was the majority who said that one should not. That majority would therefore say that shemittah today, being every 7th year with no exceptions, is not the same as the original mitzvah. It is not Rebbe’s opinion alone.

Whatever the status is today, may we observe the next shemittah because of the Torah law; with the mitzvah of yovel restored because the people of Israel will have returned to our homes.

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