One of my goals in stating this blog was to find the areas of Torah that highlighted the fact that the conventional wisdom that Torah is necessarily socio-politically conservative may be more conventional than it is wise. [Thought one would have to be modeh that it is highly unlikely that one could find mekoros that would provide direct support for the progressive agenda.]
In a recent article in the New Republic, renowned social scientist Alan Wolfe felt compelled to draw a clear distinction between the system of thought one would call liberalism and the system one would call socialism. In contrast, the political journal Dissent defines its weltanschauung as “democratic socialism”. We can see that, in a manner analogous to machlokos about Jewish denominationism, that in this too, ein ladavar sof.
Nevertheless, well-meaning [well, mostly well-meaning] attempts continue to be made to find support for the ideas that Torah leans toward Capitalism or Socialism. This argument started long before the current economic matzav came upon us, before a mandate seemed to arise fro punishing rich people just for being rich. The parsha[s] possibly provide the most extensive economic blueprint one will find in the Chumash, and I will use it to loosely lay out where I think the Torah may be in a socio-economic sense.
A starting point: The Torah is anti-socialist, in the sense that, for the most part, private property is not only sanctioned, it borders on sacrosanct. This, in complete contradistinction to the [“chareidi”?] socialist canard attributed to Joseph Proudhon that “All property is theft”, which today’s progressive socialist might ascribe to in the more friendly manifesto of John Lennon, “Imagine no possessions”. Even if one would maintain that “behind every great fortune lies a great crime”, the halachos of chazaka—and the fact that kinyanim are chal in the case of genevah and gezeilah—indicate that at some point even misappropriation is salient, even if wrong.
[Two halachos may even further illustrate how protective of ownership Torah is: a) the issur of stealing from a ganav, even if it’s one’s own stolen property one is trying to recover, and b) the fact that so much was made of “chamas”, the notion of stealing less than a shava pruta and that it sealed the fate of the dor hamabul.]
However, once we’ve established support for private property and, by extension, private enterprise [can’t have one without the other], a close look at this parsha [and related halachic literature] indicates that the Torah takes a rather equally dim view of ceratin conservative canards regarding government as a problem and the “invisible hand” of the market.
Specifically, not only is the economic system as described in the parsha[s] is highly taxed and regulated, but there is something unique about the command not to “sell the land in perpetuity, because the land is Mine”: the command that all land reverts to its original tribal ownership.
Here we have a directive against two trends specific to what might be termed unfetterd capitalism: 1) that unimpeded acquisition and hoarding is a good thing; 2) that the unfettered pursuit of same is always synonymous with—and should dictate—a polity’s interest.
Granted, one can’t always generalize; certain halachic proscriptions regarding economics—particularly the issur on loaning at interest—are certainly not meant to be universal (the best explanation I’ve seen was that the issur was “familial”; would you make your grandmother pay interest? (Would you make your grandmother pay you back?))
However, should anyone tell you that Alan Greenspan and Milton Friedman are analogous to Da’as Torah…look out. Whatever they take from you won’t be tax deductible.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Friday, May 8, 2009
Emor: Due Process?
Originally, I thought that with all the current brouhaha surrounding the release of the “torture memos” and the attendant spectre of possible prosecution of the major Bush Administration players for Constitutional violations, the incident of the mecharef/megadef at the end of this weeks’ parsha couldn’t be more timely, as I had always looked at that story as sort of a lesson in some form of halachic jurisprudential due process. Then I read the news about the case surrounding Stefan Colmer and how right-wing communal elements still remain undecided as to if, or when, to report sex offenders to the secular authorities.
http://www.thejewishweek.com/viewArticle/c36_a15703/News/New_York.html
This case highlights all sorts of issues, not least the ones I highlighted in my Ki Savo 2008 post. What I didn’t deal with straightaway is the notion pervasive in more isolationist communities that any reporting to secular authorities constitutes “mesirah”; however, you won’t hear that term bandied about all that much nowadays, as the embarrassment gets too great with each revelation for that claim to be publicly be made with a straight face, even by the most ardent isolationist apologists. Instead, other, sometimes even more infuriating, “defenses” have been offered, ranging from the chiddush that “if theres no penetration, theres no violation” to the fear that extending a window of reporting would bankrupt yeshivot.
I will attempt to be dan lekaf zechus, as it were, in a very limited sense (especially since I will immediately proceed to knock down said “zechus”). I will attempt to theorize that that, like the crisis surrounding aguna, there is an uncertainty vis-à-vis a clear-cut due process, halchic and extra-halachic, as to how to deal with the situation, as it is (relatively) novel, and the result has been initially paralysis (techilah beshogeg—maybe;) followed by the laundry list of apologetics (where it becomes sofo be’mezid). I will attempt to show how this possible “excuse” is immediately erased when one uses the sippur mecharef umegadef as a template for due process application when the owrs of offenses are committed.
The question arises as to why, after detailing the incident that led to the individual committing blasphemy (including a “sidebar” about his lineage) and the judicial process that followed, the Divine response regarding his punishment included an exhortation to execute murderers. What prompted a more detailed discussion of offenses warranting the death penalty beyond what had just occurred?
I think we have to take a look at all three factors: first, the process of judgment that ensues when blasphemy is committed; two, the linage of the offender and the possibility that the Torah considers is as a possible circumstance leading to the offense; and three, the mentioning of capital murder as a lesson regarding due process involved in all halachic capital cases. I will then attempt to do two things: aside from pointing out each of these respective elements’ unique contribution to the concepts halachic due process, I will also attempt to make some hekeshim to instances like the Colmer case. I should reiterate one hekesh, of sorts, that I made in Ki Savo: that the commission of pedophilic sex offenses by practitioners of isolationist Orthodoxy, especially when they occur in settings that are supposed to be associated with its most respected practices, constitutes one of the, if not them gravest chillul Hashem possible. That enough makes a rather salient analog to chiruf and giduf.
The first element is the process unique to the mecharef umegadef. The Gemara in Moed Katan (26b) details how the witnesses to the blasphemic utterance testify to said utterance by repeating it verbatim (which compels those present to tear kri’ah). We see two things from here: one, the extent to which the Judaic judicial system goes to eliminate “reasonable doubt”, even to force a “replay” of the “crime”; G-d, as it were, is willing forego his Honor to ensure that the conviction is correct. Some might say that this indicates that the standard of proof should be at least as high in our cases. I would say that we see that G-d’s willingness to forgo his Honor to establish the truth should actually indicate for a different attitude here: namely, that we be willing to go to any length to ensure that the offender is kept from ever having the opportunity from repeating the offense.
I would even take an instruction from this event regarding the “tznius” excuses. In one case, an offender said he couldn’t assist in his own defense because he would be forced to look at salacious pictures; in another, as noted in the article, “those molesters who were reported were apparently unwilling to participate in existing sex offender programs because, among other obstacles, men and women were treated together, a violation of communal norms. ‘There is not going to be an appropriate mix,’ explained Hynes at the time, ‘if you put them in with a group that is not chasidic, that is not Orthodox.”’ I would proffer that this becomes less of a halachic and more of a “cultural degradation” issue, and that the threat of cultural abandonment might serve as an appropriate punishment, if not deterrent, that if an individual associated with an isolationist sect commits a sex crime said individual SHOULD lose the ability to use “communal norms” as a shield even if it threates the rest of one’s religious life, as the requisite conduct itself has indicated that the forfeiture was already of the offender’s own volition. The fact again that G-d, as it were, would forgo His Honor for the sake of the truth indicates that perceived “communal norms” make a poor excuse for hiding the truth and protecting children.
The second element in the story regards the way the Torah details the lineage of the megadef, going so far as to detail his lineage and unfortunate exclusion from the geographic inheritance which apparently prompted the blasphemous outburst. This may be loosely analogous to what is termed the “abuse excuse”, and how the Torah shoots it down. In theory, we see something similar later on Ki Tezte in the discussion surrounding the ben sorer u’moreh, and how the obstacles set up by halacha to the actual execution (the parents voices have to be “similar, neither one of them can be disabled, etc.) might indicate that an “excuse of influence” does exist. I would say that the ben sorer umoreh actually upholds the notion that we are delineating here: that, influences do play a sometimes mitigating role, but the ultimate “moral responsibility” of the offender is not necessarily the concern of dinei adam, particularly when someone might get hurt. The fact that the Torah raised up the megadef’s “abuse excuse” defense for him and still insisted upon his execution indicates for this.
(I would add that the two cases— chiruf/giduf and ben sorer umoreh—are also indicators for the need to monitor societal influences and their concomitant effects, but the better arguments regarding communal responsibility for said influences is much stronger in the inyan of horeg beshogeg, ir miklat, and the spectre of the Kohen Gadol’s death serving as the indicator of said communal failure. Also witness how the Gemara in Makkos disparages a Sanhedrin that has to carry out the death penalty. Vis-à-vis ir miklat, I think that provides a good analogy regarding civil confinement. But I’ll discuss that at another time.)
Finally, the third element is the unexpected appearance of the laws of capital murder, followed by the laws of assault, immediately followed by the exhortation that “mishpat echad yih’yeh lachem”: “you all have one law”. I could repeat the obvious, trite, but necessary analog of molestation as “soul murder”; I could also detail how the listing of these cases after the the mecharef, followed by the “one law” exhortation, is a further indication of how the process delineated in the case of chiruf/giduf—even if, at first glance, it seems to be rigged for conviction—is as salient a “due process” as one applied in cases of torts and homicide.
I would employ this third element to serve as a further attitude check as to what this whole crisis is about. It’s “One Law”. You molest a child, you pay. Everything else is a cover up at best, facilitation at worst. And that may be the worse crime.
http://www.thejewishweek.com/viewArticle/c36_a15703/News/New_York.html
This case highlights all sorts of issues, not least the ones I highlighted in my Ki Savo 2008 post. What I didn’t deal with straightaway is the notion pervasive in more isolationist communities that any reporting to secular authorities constitutes “mesirah”; however, you won’t hear that term bandied about all that much nowadays, as the embarrassment gets too great with each revelation for that claim to be publicly be made with a straight face, even by the most ardent isolationist apologists. Instead, other, sometimes even more infuriating, “defenses” have been offered, ranging from the chiddush that “if theres no penetration, theres no violation” to the fear that extending a window of reporting would bankrupt yeshivot.
I will attempt to be dan lekaf zechus, as it were, in a very limited sense (especially since I will immediately proceed to knock down said “zechus”). I will attempt to theorize that that, like the crisis surrounding aguna, there is an uncertainty vis-à-vis a clear-cut due process, halchic and extra-halachic, as to how to deal with the situation, as it is (relatively) novel, and the result has been initially paralysis (techilah beshogeg—maybe;) followed by the laundry list of apologetics (where it becomes sofo be’mezid). I will attempt to show how this possible “excuse” is immediately erased when one uses the sippur mecharef umegadef as a template for due process application when the owrs of offenses are committed.
The question arises as to why, after detailing the incident that led to the individual committing blasphemy (including a “sidebar” about his lineage) and the judicial process that followed, the Divine response regarding his punishment included an exhortation to execute murderers. What prompted a more detailed discussion of offenses warranting the death penalty beyond what had just occurred?
I think we have to take a look at all three factors: first, the process of judgment that ensues when blasphemy is committed; two, the linage of the offender and the possibility that the Torah considers is as a possible circumstance leading to the offense; and three, the mentioning of capital murder as a lesson regarding due process involved in all halachic capital cases. I will then attempt to do two things: aside from pointing out each of these respective elements’ unique contribution to the concepts halachic due process, I will also attempt to make some hekeshim to instances like the Colmer case. I should reiterate one hekesh, of sorts, that I made in Ki Savo: that the commission of pedophilic sex offenses by practitioners of isolationist Orthodoxy, especially when they occur in settings that are supposed to be associated with its most respected practices, constitutes one of the, if not them gravest chillul Hashem possible. That enough makes a rather salient analog to chiruf and giduf.
The first element is the process unique to the mecharef umegadef. The Gemara in Moed Katan (26b) details how the witnesses to the blasphemic utterance testify to said utterance by repeating it verbatim (which compels those present to tear kri’ah). We see two things from here: one, the extent to which the Judaic judicial system goes to eliminate “reasonable doubt”, even to force a “replay” of the “crime”; G-d, as it were, is willing forego his Honor to ensure that the conviction is correct. Some might say that this indicates that the standard of proof should be at least as high in our cases. I would say that we see that G-d’s willingness to forgo his Honor to establish the truth should actually indicate for a different attitude here: namely, that we be willing to go to any length to ensure that the offender is kept from ever having the opportunity from repeating the offense.
I would even take an instruction from this event regarding the “tznius” excuses. In one case, an offender said he couldn’t assist in his own defense because he would be forced to look at salacious pictures; in another, as noted in the article, “those molesters who were reported were apparently unwilling to participate in existing sex offender programs because, among other obstacles, men and women were treated together, a violation of communal norms. ‘There is not going to be an appropriate mix,’ explained Hynes at the time, ‘if you put them in with a group that is not chasidic, that is not Orthodox.”’ I would proffer that this becomes less of a halachic and more of a “cultural degradation” issue, and that the threat of cultural abandonment might serve as an appropriate punishment, if not deterrent, that if an individual associated with an isolationist sect commits a sex crime said individual SHOULD lose the ability to use “communal norms” as a shield even if it threates the rest of one’s religious life, as the requisite conduct itself has indicated that the forfeiture was already of the offender’s own volition. The fact again that G-d, as it were, would forgo His Honor for the sake of the truth indicates that perceived “communal norms” make a poor excuse for hiding the truth and protecting children.
The second element in the story regards the way the Torah details the lineage of the megadef, going so far as to detail his lineage and unfortunate exclusion from the geographic inheritance which apparently prompted the blasphemous outburst. This may be loosely analogous to what is termed the “abuse excuse”, and how the Torah shoots it down. In theory, we see something similar later on Ki Tezte in the discussion surrounding the ben sorer u’moreh, and how the obstacles set up by halacha to the actual execution (the parents voices have to be “similar, neither one of them can be disabled, etc.) might indicate that an “excuse of influence” does exist. I would say that the ben sorer umoreh actually upholds the notion that we are delineating here: that, influences do play a sometimes mitigating role, but the ultimate “moral responsibility” of the offender is not necessarily the concern of dinei adam, particularly when someone might get hurt. The fact that the Torah raised up the megadef’s “abuse excuse” defense for him and still insisted upon his execution indicates for this.
(I would add that the two cases— chiruf/giduf and ben sorer umoreh—are also indicators for the need to monitor societal influences and their concomitant effects, but the better arguments regarding communal responsibility for said influences is much stronger in the inyan of horeg beshogeg, ir miklat, and the spectre of the Kohen Gadol’s death serving as the indicator of said communal failure. Also witness how the Gemara in Makkos disparages a Sanhedrin that has to carry out the death penalty. Vis-à-vis ir miklat, I think that provides a good analogy regarding civil confinement. But I’ll discuss that at another time.)
Finally, the third element is the unexpected appearance of the laws of capital murder, followed by the laws of assault, immediately followed by the exhortation that “mishpat echad yih’yeh lachem”: “you all have one law”. I could repeat the obvious, trite, but necessary analog of molestation as “soul murder”; I could also detail how the listing of these cases after the the mecharef, followed by the “one law” exhortation, is a further indication of how the process delineated in the case of chiruf/giduf—even if, at first glance, it seems to be rigged for conviction—is as salient a “due process” as one applied in cases of torts and homicide.
I would employ this third element to serve as a further attitude check as to what this whole crisis is about. It’s “One Law”. You molest a child, you pay. Everything else is a cover up at best, facilitation at worst. And that may be the worse crime.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Acharei Mos/Kedoshim: So Who’s Being Picky?
This week’s parshas present the comprehensive list of forbidden liaisons/relationships (Acharei, Chap. 18 and Kedoshim, Chap 20 with their various attendant spiritual penalties).
When you get down to it, there is quite the salient sexual subtext and its connection to family to the Bible. The message, however, is not what you would expect: in a reversal of Freud (“sometimes a cigar is not just a cigar”), sometimes—or even most of the time—sex is not just about sex.
In the interests of brevity, I would put it this way: sefer Bereishis details a myriad of inappropriate relationship between everybody and the struggle (or complete lack theoreof) to find appropriate ones (which Avraham’s progeny were better at, though certainly not perfectly). Sefer Shemos continues the theme, albeit in a amore limited way: witness the detail dedicated to Moshe and Aharon’s family lineage in Va’era.
In Vayikra, however, we don’t get to dealing with sex until now—mostly because most of the halachos have been essentially all dealing with ben adam la-Makom. I don’t thnk that that’s a complele accident; the Torah presents a series of atonement-eliciting services—from everyday korbanos to Yom Kippur—creating, as it were, the refuah before the makah.
There are a number of other subtexts I can briefly touch upon in this vein: the notion that sex isn’t always about sex but (at least, certainly in the time of Matan Torah) is tied up with family, politics, and culture—hence “maaseh eretz Mitzrayim” and “maaseh eretz Cana’an”. The Egyptian political dynasties were specifically doctrinally incestuous (talk about keeping it in the family. One might even detect a more modern propensity among the pre-World War I monarchies to marry each other’s cousins, and the preponderance of hemophilia that resulted).
I however, will focus on one aspect of the story: why the “master list” of Chapter 18 ended up in Acharei Mos. Did it have anything to do with the deaths of Nadav and Avihu?
One of the reason given for Nadav and Avihu incurring Divine displeasure was their reluctance to marry: no one was good enough for them. Now, this is one among many reason given for their demise, so it would be a bit of a stretch to say that it was the proximate cuase; however, if one examines the other reasons given—particularly, their thoughts that “when are these old men going to die so we can get our rightful positions as leaders”—indicate a degree of spiritual arrogance to which their reluctance to marry is not unrelated.
(Should one say they had the “Kohen excuse”—that it made it harder for them to get married because of the extra restrictions—one can easily counter that they were probably the most desirable single men on the shidduch market at the time.)
However, I would take it a step further: I think Nadav and Avihu, to a degree, became risk-averse; they were becoming protective of their rightfully gained spiritual standing (this, as opposed to say, Korach, who was trying to arrogate to himself something that wasn’t his). They therefore didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize that standing (even if it meant not getting married, because they might end up with someone not necessarily commensurate with said lofty position). This might explain why they mused about the eventual deaths of Moshe and Aharon: they were already treating their position as a familial property (which it was, but only to a point). The mida k’neged mida was that they ended up actually taking a risk where it proved to be absolutely fatal.
One of the hardest things in life to do is distinguish between necessary and unnecessary risk. However, the aforementioned all but proves that absolute risk avoidance is all but impossible, and not even spiritually desirable. In parshas Tzav we saw that even the most sublime of services—the Olah—has inevitable detritus needing cleanup, the deshen; not necessarily a good deed not going unpunished, but having inevitable side effects. Here in Acharei we see that that risk isn’t a “side effect”: its part and parcel of spirituality.
When you get down to it, there is quite the salient sexual subtext and its connection to family to the Bible. The message, however, is not what you would expect: in a reversal of Freud (“sometimes a cigar is not just a cigar”), sometimes—or even most of the time—sex is not just about sex.
In the interests of brevity, I would put it this way: sefer Bereishis details a myriad of inappropriate relationship between everybody and the struggle (or complete lack theoreof) to find appropriate ones (which Avraham’s progeny were better at, though certainly not perfectly). Sefer Shemos continues the theme, albeit in a amore limited way: witness the detail dedicated to Moshe and Aharon’s family lineage in Va’era.
In Vayikra, however, we don’t get to dealing with sex until now—mostly because most of the halachos have been essentially all dealing with ben adam la-Makom. I don’t thnk that that’s a complele accident; the Torah presents a series of atonement-eliciting services—from everyday korbanos to Yom Kippur—creating, as it were, the refuah before the makah.
There are a number of other subtexts I can briefly touch upon in this vein: the notion that sex isn’t always about sex but (at least, certainly in the time of Matan Torah) is tied up with family, politics, and culture—hence “maaseh eretz Mitzrayim” and “maaseh eretz Cana’an”. The Egyptian political dynasties were specifically doctrinally incestuous (talk about keeping it in the family. One might even detect a more modern propensity among the pre-World War I monarchies to marry each other’s cousins, and the preponderance of hemophilia that resulted).
I however, will focus on one aspect of the story: why the “master list” of Chapter 18 ended up in Acharei Mos. Did it have anything to do with the deaths of Nadav and Avihu?
One of the reason given for Nadav and Avihu incurring Divine displeasure was their reluctance to marry: no one was good enough for them. Now, this is one among many reason given for their demise, so it would be a bit of a stretch to say that it was the proximate cuase; however, if one examines the other reasons given—particularly, their thoughts that “when are these old men going to die so we can get our rightful positions as leaders”—indicate a degree of spiritual arrogance to which their reluctance to marry is not unrelated.
(Should one say they had the “Kohen excuse”—that it made it harder for them to get married because of the extra restrictions—one can easily counter that they were probably the most desirable single men on the shidduch market at the time.)
However, I would take it a step further: I think Nadav and Avihu, to a degree, became risk-averse; they were becoming protective of their rightfully gained spiritual standing (this, as opposed to say, Korach, who was trying to arrogate to himself something that wasn’t his). They therefore didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize that standing (even if it meant not getting married, because they might end up with someone not necessarily commensurate with said lofty position). This might explain why they mused about the eventual deaths of Moshe and Aharon: they were already treating their position as a familial property (which it was, but only to a point). The mida k’neged mida was that they ended up actually taking a risk where it proved to be absolutely fatal.
One of the hardest things in life to do is distinguish between necessary and unnecessary risk. However, the aforementioned all but proves that absolute risk avoidance is all but impossible, and not even spiritually desirable. In parshas Tzav we saw that even the most sublime of services—the Olah—has inevitable detritus needing cleanup, the deshen; not necessarily a good deed not going unpunished, but having inevitable side effects. Here in Acharei we see that that risk isn’t a “side effect”: its part and parcel of spirituality.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Tazria-Metzora: The Hardest Thing
Tazria-Metzora happens to be my father’s bar-mitzva parsha.
He spent a good chunk of his formative years as a [very good] ba’al korei, ; having been through kol haTorah kula numerous times, he still marvels at how it remains the most challenging parsha to lain.
I have never tried to lain the parsha, bun in the few cycles of shanim mikra-echad targum I’ve completed, I’ve always found these two parshas the most difficult to understand (with Truma and Tetzaveh a close tie for second).
I think its no accident that the inyanim of tzaraas are the most difficult in Chumash, analogous to the difficulty of avoiding the avera it purports to correct, lashon hara. (I have a quite learned distant cousin who best illustrates this: “There are shivim leshonos. I chose lashon hara.”)
Lets start with the more “conventional” vorts:
First, from R' Isaac Sher z"l (Slobodka rosh yeshiva), as recounted by R Shlomo Katz in the 5760 Tazria-Metzora Hamaayan:
[W]hen a person speaks lashon hara and is stricken with tzara'at, this demonstrates…Hashem's closeness to that person himself. Today, no one gets tzara'at because we no longer are close enough to Hashem that we can expect such a clear sign of His displeasure with us.
[http://www.torah.org/learning/hamaayan/5760/tazria.html]
Second—and I can’t remember the exact source, but it was from Chabad-sponsored Parsha sheet—was that tzaraas affliction were generally Divinely “reserved” for those at high madregas; in other words, if someone was a habitual speaker of lashon hara, that person generally never got tzaraas.
In this vein comes the third source, R’ Jacob Solomon:
By being completely covered in tzaraat symptoms he would be be ritually pure. But by being pure he would not have the privilege of being secluded by the Kohen. Instead his tzaraat would be on view to the public - they would know that the Almighty singled him out as a gossip or slanderer. He would therefore have been publicly shamed by the Almighty as a means of correcting his misdeeds. [http://www.shemayisrael.co.il/parsha/solomon/archives/tazria63.htm]
Taking all three of these together and applying them to what might be termed the contemporary scene, we can draw a completely different type of conclusion. One might simply use the Gemara in Baba Basra that states that everybody, every day, commits some form of infraction concerning avak lashon hara, as a starting point. The Gemara is not playing sown the issur; but it recognizes that everyone is guilty of it in one form or another.
I would go so far as to say that, when you look at how both tzaraas is deemed to be a sign of Divine love (R’ Sher), and simultaneously a vehicle for Divinely ordained public embarrassment into compliance (R’ Solomon), one can also understand how in both cases the Divine intent could be subverted, as it were. I can think of two ways: one, how one being afflicted by tzaraas (and suffering in silence, pace R’ Sher), instead of becoming a cautionary tale, can become a lightning rod for further slander (“…did you hear what happened to…?); and, two, in the case of the one completely covered in the “pure” tzaraas using said state as a badge of honor.
More specifically, I would not necessarily bemoan that, per R’ Sher, “ we no longer are close enough to Hashem that we can expect such a clear sign of His displeasure with us.” It seems as if G-d decided that, as “kulan be’avak lashon hara”, it k’vayachol didn’t really pay to directly intervene every time someone spoke lashon hara. The “hester panim” involved in this case seems to be more due to the allowance of unimpeded social functioning.
(This, possibly, contrasts with the eventual inefficacy of the “mei sotah”, which stopped working when the accusing husbands apparently became as incontinent as their allegedly wayward wives; this was a case of avoiding implementation of a moral double standard.)
Lest anyone accuse me of trying to down play the severity of lashon hara (I wish I could, and I'm sure I wouldn’t be alone in that), I think we can actually learn a few constructive—and not necessarily contra-halachic—lessons.
That is: I gossip, and at the risk of being choshed be’kesherim, so do you. (I hope you don’t, for your sake, but can any of you plausibly claim you don’t?) People find reasons to say anything, about anyone, on the flimsiest of pretext; again, not to say that words are meaningless—but they can be mitigated if you’re willing to not take everything personally.
Irrespective of the loss of “Divine Love” involved in the disappearance of tzaraas as a corrective measure, G-d seems to be willing to “let go”—if we are.
He spent a good chunk of his formative years as a [very good] ba’al korei, ; having been through kol haTorah kula numerous times, he still marvels at how it remains the most challenging parsha to lain.
I have never tried to lain the parsha, bun in the few cycles of shanim mikra-echad targum I’ve completed, I’ve always found these two parshas the most difficult to understand (with Truma and Tetzaveh a close tie for second).
I think its no accident that the inyanim of tzaraas are the most difficult in Chumash, analogous to the difficulty of avoiding the avera it purports to correct, lashon hara. (I have a quite learned distant cousin who best illustrates this: “There are shivim leshonos. I chose lashon hara.”)
Lets start with the more “conventional” vorts:
First, from R' Isaac Sher z"l (Slobodka rosh yeshiva), as recounted by R Shlomo Katz in the 5760 Tazria-Metzora Hamaayan:
[W]hen a person speaks lashon hara and is stricken with tzara'at, this demonstrates…Hashem's closeness to that person himself. Today, no one gets tzara'at because we no longer are close enough to Hashem that we can expect such a clear sign of His displeasure with us.
[http://www.torah.org/learning/hamaayan/5760/tazria.html]
Second—and I can’t remember the exact source, but it was from Chabad-sponsored Parsha sheet—was that tzaraas affliction were generally Divinely “reserved” for those at high madregas; in other words, if someone was a habitual speaker of lashon hara, that person generally never got tzaraas.
In this vein comes the third source, R’ Jacob Solomon:
By being completely covered in tzaraat symptoms he would be be ritually pure. But by being pure he would not have the privilege of being secluded by the Kohen. Instead his tzaraat would be on view to the public - they would know that the Almighty singled him out as a gossip or slanderer. He would therefore have been publicly shamed by the Almighty as a means of correcting his misdeeds. [http://www.shemayisrael.co.il/parsha/solomon/archives/tazria63.htm]
Taking all three of these together and applying them to what might be termed the contemporary scene, we can draw a completely different type of conclusion. One might simply use the Gemara in Baba Basra that states that everybody, every day, commits some form of infraction concerning avak lashon hara, as a starting point. The Gemara is not playing sown the issur; but it recognizes that everyone is guilty of it in one form or another.
I would go so far as to say that, when you look at how both tzaraas is deemed to be a sign of Divine love (R’ Sher), and simultaneously a vehicle for Divinely ordained public embarrassment into compliance (R’ Solomon), one can also understand how in both cases the Divine intent could be subverted, as it were. I can think of two ways: one, how one being afflicted by tzaraas (and suffering in silence, pace R’ Sher), instead of becoming a cautionary tale, can become a lightning rod for further slander (“…did you hear what happened to…?); and, two, in the case of the one completely covered in the “pure” tzaraas using said state as a badge of honor.
More specifically, I would not necessarily bemoan that, per R’ Sher, “ we no longer are close enough to Hashem that we can expect such a clear sign of His displeasure with us.” It seems as if G-d decided that, as “kulan be’avak lashon hara”, it k’vayachol didn’t really pay to directly intervene every time someone spoke lashon hara. The “hester panim” involved in this case seems to be more due to the allowance of unimpeded social functioning.
(This, possibly, contrasts with the eventual inefficacy of the “mei sotah”, which stopped working when the accusing husbands apparently became as incontinent as their allegedly wayward wives; this was a case of avoiding implementation of a moral double standard.)
Lest anyone accuse me of trying to down play the severity of lashon hara (I wish I could, and I'm sure I wouldn’t be alone in that), I think we can actually learn a few constructive—and not necessarily contra-halachic—lessons.
That is: I gossip, and at the risk of being choshed be’kesherim, so do you. (I hope you don’t, for your sake, but can any of you plausibly claim you don’t?) People find reasons to say anything, about anyone, on the flimsiest of pretext; again, not to say that words are meaningless—but they can be mitigated if you’re willing to not take everything personally.
Irrespective of the loss of “Divine Love” involved in the disappearance of tzaraas as a corrective measure, G-d seems to be willing to “let go”—if we are.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Vayikra-Tzav: Cleanup
Whether I've mentioned this inyan before or not, I think it bears repeating, especially with regards the current world economic matzav—and its backstory.
There are those who may wonder why the first pesukim taught in “cheder” [or the modern-day equivalent] are the first five pesukim in Vayikra, and the question has been answered in many ways.
I will posit that is has something to do with the inyan discussed in Rashi: “Adam ki-yakriv mikem”: just like Adam owned everything at the commencement of maasei Bereshis [as he was the only person around], and therefore could not have been nechshad in gezel, so too your spiritual endeavors and striving should be equally free of the taint of misappropriation.
Or, in plainer English, don’t take what doesn’t belong to you.
Not to say that the “Torah al regel achas” that Hillel taught [Shabbos 31a]--"that which you hate, don't do to others--a paraphrase of the command to love your neighbor—is any less an “entire Torah”; but teaching not to take what’s not yours is likely the clearest illustration of said principle, which makes it so basic, and such a perfect teachable moment to those starting out on “mikra”/”Vayikra”.
The parallels to the economic mess don’t need to be borne out [i.e., I don’t have to name names]. I think we could say that the brouhahas over bonuses seem to indicate that there just might be this idea that people are taking what doesn’t belong to them, so there is still hope for us.
Now that was last week. But it connects to this week. As R’ Shlomo Ressler pointed out this week:
“Our Parsha, Tzav, informs us that the priests’ first task of the day was to remove the ashes from the offering sacrificed the previous day (Leviticus 6:3). Is there any significance to this being the priests’ first order of business with which to start the day?
Rabbi Avi Weiss explains that the priest begins the day by removing the ashes to illustrate the importance of his remaining involved with the mundane. Too often, those who rise to important positions separate themselves from the people and abandon the everyday menial tasks. By starting the day with ash-cleaning, the Torah insists it shouldn’t be this way.”
I’m going to try to take that idea a step further. You’ll notice that, in describing the inyan of “Adam ki Yakriv Mi-kem”, I mentioned that one’s spiritual endeavors should be free of any taint of gezel. Why did I mention—or, for that matter, why even use spiritual endeavors—to illustrate the idea of why stealing is wrong?
I think that Rabbi Weiss’ idea of trumas hadeshen illustrates another basic, if ignored truism: that, while it may or may not be true that “no good deed goes unpunished”, what IS true that the “spiritual business” [I just made that up…I think] is, of necessity, a dirty business. Even the most sublime of offerings—the Olah, which is all for On High—leaves ashes that need to be cleaned up, AND those ashes most be lceaned up on a daily basis—FIRST.
I think we can link “Adam ki-yakriv mikem” and trumas hadeshen in two ways.
One: don’t be afraid [or, as Rabbi Weiss is trying to say, don’t act “too important”] to clean up a “mess”. It just night be the task of someone of your stature. I’ve discussed before how Yoram Hazony, in his seminal treatment of Megillas Esther, “The Dawn”, makes a demarcation between “morality” and “purity”, and how the former influenced Mordechai’s actions in the Purim story. Specifically, Mordechai was willing to get “dirty” when necessary [e.g., the sha’ar hamelech was not exactly a beis medrash. But read Hazony for further explanation.]
Two: one can take the “yakriv mi-kem” admonition against gezel specifically to a more genral principle: don’t ever expect that ends almost never justify the means. The principles of “aseh docheh lo ta’aseh” and “es la’asos lashem heferu torasecha”, among others, are important exceptions, but ones that prove the rule generally. And realize that even if you are truly makriv mi-kem, there will always be deshen to clean up, and you should be prepared to—and, more importantly, not be ashamed or too proud—to clean up.
There are those who may wonder why the first pesukim taught in “cheder” [or the modern-day equivalent] are the first five pesukim in Vayikra, and the question has been answered in many ways.
I will posit that is has something to do with the inyan discussed in Rashi: “Adam ki-yakriv mikem”: just like Adam owned everything at the commencement of maasei Bereshis [as he was the only person around], and therefore could not have been nechshad in gezel, so too your spiritual endeavors and striving should be equally free of the taint of misappropriation.
Or, in plainer English, don’t take what doesn’t belong to you.
Not to say that the “Torah al regel achas” that Hillel taught [Shabbos 31a]--"that which you hate, don't do to others--a paraphrase of the command to love your neighbor—is any less an “entire Torah”; but teaching not to take what’s not yours is likely the clearest illustration of said principle, which makes it so basic, and such a perfect teachable moment to those starting out on “mikra”/”Vayikra”.
The parallels to the economic mess don’t need to be borne out [i.e., I don’t have to name names]. I think we could say that the brouhahas over bonuses seem to indicate that there just might be this idea that people are taking what doesn’t belong to them, so there is still hope for us.
Now that was last week. But it connects to this week. As R’ Shlomo Ressler pointed out this week:
“Our Parsha, Tzav, informs us that the priests’ first task of the day was to remove the ashes from the offering sacrificed the previous day (Leviticus 6:3). Is there any significance to this being the priests’ first order of business with which to start the day?
Rabbi Avi Weiss explains that the priest begins the day by removing the ashes to illustrate the importance of his remaining involved with the mundane. Too often, those who rise to important positions separate themselves from the people and abandon the everyday menial tasks. By starting the day with ash-cleaning, the Torah insists it shouldn’t be this way.”
I’m going to try to take that idea a step further. You’ll notice that, in describing the inyan of “Adam ki Yakriv Mi-kem”, I mentioned that one’s spiritual endeavors should be free of any taint of gezel. Why did I mention—or, for that matter, why even use spiritual endeavors—to illustrate the idea of why stealing is wrong?
I think that Rabbi Weiss’ idea of trumas hadeshen illustrates another basic, if ignored truism: that, while it may or may not be true that “no good deed goes unpunished”, what IS true that the “spiritual business” [I just made that up…I think] is, of necessity, a dirty business. Even the most sublime of offerings—the Olah, which is all for On High—leaves ashes that need to be cleaned up, AND those ashes most be lceaned up on a daily basis—FIRST.
I think we can link “Adam ki-yakriv mikem” and trumas hadeshen in two ways.
One: don’t be afraid [or, as Rabbi Weiss is trying to say, don’t act “too important”] to clean up a “mess”. It just night be the task of someone of your stature. I’ve discussed before how Yoram Hazony, in his seminal treatment of Megillas Esther, “The Dawn”, makes a demarcation between “morality” and “purity”, and how the former influenced Mordechai’s actions in the Purim story. Specifically, Mordechai was willing to get “dirty” when necessary [e.g., the sha’ar hamelech was not exactly a beis medrash. But read Hazony for further explanation.]
Two: one can take the “yakriv mi-kem” admonition against gezel specifically to a more genral principle: don’t ever expect that ends almost never justify the means. The principles of “aseh docheh lo ta’aseh” and “es la’asos lashem heferu torasecha”, among others, are important exceptions, but ones that prove the rule generally. And realize that even if you are truly makriv mi-kem, there will always be deshen to clean up, and you should be prepared to—and, more importantly, not be ashamed or too proud—to clean up.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Mishpatim: The Question of Slavery
When questions arise from certain quarters (secular or otherwise) regarding the moral relevance of Torah in contemporary times, the attack usually comes from one of two directions:
1) The Torah holds people responsible for inclinations they have no control over (e.g., homosexuality).
2) The Torah is irredeemably sexist and racist (if not borderline genocidal).
Usually included as part of challenge #2, the question arises as to why the Torah not only tolerates and condones slavery, but institutes ostensibly racially based codes of slave law for the Jews to follow, much like they had just suffered in Egypt. More poignantly, the question arises (as it does regarding other aforementioned issues) that if the Torah is the eternal, immutable fount of all morality, either slavery is morally neutral or even good, or the Torah’s “good”-ness is open to question. Additionally, avdus—in its most extreme manifestations—remains a pillar of classical Judaic practice and hashakfa; witness how every Rosh Hashanah we ask if G-d sees us as children or servants.
Answers run the gamut, but usually don’t help. Not only that, it seems that more people than one would expect are willing to go so far to defend Kavod HaTorah that they will assert that slavery is a benign, even beneficial concept.
There’s the following statement of Rabbi Ze’ev Leff: “The Jew is not free. ‘Frei’ is the password of alienation from Judaism.” Succinct.
There’s the following statement about eved ivri:
The criminal becomes apprenticed to a single Jew who acts as his mentor and social worker. This person has total rights over the criminal (monetary, sexual etc). In the ideal world the Jew uses these rights to show the criminal how to do a decent days work and treat people nicely. The result: when he "earns back what he stole" he is a transformed person and goes free. True in our present world no one individual should be trusted with such a responsibility (which is why there is no slavery today). But when the Mesiah comes the slavery method will be preferable to the prison method.
This attempts to reduce the conflict to a semantic one: one can claim that this isn’t really “slavery” per se, but a form of penal servitude, or even, a systems of “corrections” not only whose morality no one disputes, but which might warm the cockles of a bleeding heart, at least, if the term “slavery” hadn’t been used. However, it does not mitigate the question of the morality of a human being ever being reduced to the status of chattel. Also, because of the principle “hakoneh eved ivri kanah rav le’atzmo” (one who acquires a Hebrew “slave” acquires oneself a master)—one someone who is quick to proclaim his/her support of the morality of slavery from these halachos must be ready to equally support the halachos regarding the possible “spoiling” of one’s eved.
Then there's this:
Similarly, when we find the concept of slavery in the Torah, while we certainly may and should question and try to understand, it must be with the realization that our Torah is actually the only code of morals that we have that we can be certain is correct (based on our beliefs), and we must accept the Torah whether it fits into our own preconception of what is moral and what is not.
This talented author simultaneously tautologizes, whitewashes, AND begs the question. (This after the author engages in a series of questionable historical analogs between how Jews treated their slaves, vs how non-Jews treated their slaves; after he glosses over the posuk “ta’avidu bahem be’farech”; and, how he undermines his support for his own position by providing a link to a site that features the story of a prominent frum Civil War-era abolitionist who actively assisted escaped slaves.)
Dr. Ronen Ahituv, member of the Midrasha in Oranim, provides what might be a salient defense of the institution of slavery as a “good thing”:
When slavery is viewed as a normal and legitimate arrangement it may also serve as a model for the relationship between humans and God. It is a title of honor for the greatest of saints to be called "God's slave" (see Devarim 27), and the Jewish People as a whole is seen as a slave to God. It is not that slavery is prohibited in principle, but rather that God's slaves are enslaved to Him, and, therefore, they are not available to serve people. This is not a matter of a humanistic value, but rather of a religious value. As a result, classical Jewish texts do not call for the freeing of all slaves. Instead, they represent the Jewish People - and the Jewish People alone - as a nation of free men and woman. This freedom does not entail the rejection of all authority; rather it replaces the yoke of human authority with that of divine authority. The approach which recognizes servitude, which regulates it within a system of rights and obligations, prevents both cruel exploitation on the one hand, and illusions of nihilistic abandonment of responsibility on the other.
An entire novel, “Every Man A Slave”, written by Sender Zeyv, is dedicated to the concept of slavery as a good thing. From the publisher’s website:
The book primarily targets two of the social transitions that were indicative of the times, the abolition of slavery and the modernization (reform) of Judaism. To the adept reader, the Biblical attitude toward human bondage and how the institution fit in with meta-history, receives an in depth treatment. To those interested in the workings of the destruction of faith and immutable morality, the book offers, hopefully, satisfying explanations.
The implication that the abolition of slavery was a malign historical development analogous to the advent of Refrom Judaism would serve as the most salient Torah-bashing soundbite I’ve heard in years.
Closer to bridging the gap is Rabbi Eliezer Berkowits’ theory that he expounds “In Time And Torah”. He maintains, using Rambam’s suggestion in Moreh Nevuchim that G-d commanded the sacrifices for no other reason than to give man an outlet for his potentially idolatrous desires as a template, that the Torah did not outlaw practices that we may now find objectionable because the Jews were not yet ready to abandon them; one such example would be polygamy, which for the most part we eventually outlawed ourselves. Similarly with slavery: it may not have been realistic to outlaw a manner of socio-economic intercourse that was so widespread as to be the very backbone of trade at the time of Matan Torah, and there were limits to the isolation that the Torah wanted to impose on Bnei Yisrael.
This goes far, but not far enough. It attributes a built-in flexibilty to Torah that may or may not be there. For the record, I believe that it is, but just view the many aforementioned arguments to show how trenchant the idea remains that it is not.
So, I’ll take another template and work from there.
In "War Resistance in Jewish Law", in a collection entitled of essays entitled "Encounters”, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan marshals an array of sources to prove that Torah is actually fundamentally pacifist. His conclusions have been, for the most part, textually refuted, but his premise remains salient: if not outright assur, war is never morally desirable. The halachos governing war keep an already bad situation from getting worse.
I would make the same argument vis-à-vis slavery, combining Rabbis' Kaplan and Berkowits’ premises. The Torah, far from actually promoting slavery as morally beneficial, likely views its existence as a necessary evil, but morally suspect at best, repugnant at worst. (I wouldn’t go so far as to call practitioners of slavery in ALL eras as menuvalim birshus haTorah, although the very concept proves that there are some things that may be “muttar” but are morally repugnant, for whatever the reasons.) And like the prophecies that preach of the days that war will be eradicated, the Torah also yearns for the day of, to quote Dr. Ahituv above, the replacement the yoke of human authority with that of Divine authority.
But that’s not all.
I would also like to proffer another theory as to why the Torah would not insist upon the abolition of slavery. More than a universal moral code, the Torah is (obviously) Judeo-centric, and exists for us and our protection. The Torah might have been telling us, in a sense: Al tihyeh tzaddik harbeh. If you are the first to abolish slavery, don’t for a second think the rest of the world will follow your example and not enslave you when given the chance. Similarly with war: an insistence on pacifism as an absolute will result in your complicity in your own murders. To be sure, abolition and peace are good things. Let the rest of the world do it first; you do NOT have to stake your existence on it.
History bears this out. Slavery was never a good thing for anyone, but was nearly ineradicable. It took until 200 years ago for anyone to even contemplate its feasibility, and even now, when slavery is universally outlawed, it is estimated that 26 million people worldwide are enslaved in one form or other. Regarding the universal eradication of war, all we have to look at to understand the difference between theory and policy is the Kellogg-Briand pact.
The ultimate lesson, then, here is:
We come first. Always.
Becuase, as Yonatan Netanyahu said, if we don't take care of ourselves, no one will do it for us.
1) The Torah holds people responsible for inclinations they have no control over (e.g., homosexuality).
2) The Torah is irredeemably sexist and racist (if not borderline genocidal).
Usually included as part of challenge #2, the question arises as to why the Torah not only tolerates and condones slavery, but institutes ostensibly racially based codes of slave law for the Jews to follow, much like they had just suffered in Egypt. More poignantly, the question arises (as it does regarding other aforementioned issues) that if the Torah is the eternal, immutable fount of all morality, either slavery is morally neutral or even good, or the Torah’s “good”-ness is open to question. Additionally, avdus—in its most extreme manifestations—remains a pillar of classical Judaic practice and hashakfa; witness how every Rosh Hashanah we ask if G-d sees us as children or servants.
Answers run the gamut, but usually don’t help. Not only that, it seems that more people than one would expect are willing to go so far to defend Kavod HaTorah that they will assert that slavery is a benign, even beneficial concept.
There’s the following statement of Rabbi Ze’ev Leff: “The Jew is not free. ‘Frei’ is the password of alienation from Judaism.” Succinct.
There’s the following statement about eved ivri:
The criminal becomes apprenticed to a single Jew who acts as his mentor and social worker. This person has total rights over the criminal (monetary, sexual etc). In the ideal world the Jew uses these rights to show the criminal how to do a decent days work and treat people nicely. The result: when he "earns back what he stole" he is a transformed person and goes free. True in our present world no one individual should be trusted with such a responsibility (which is why there is no slavery today). But when the Mesiah comes the slavery method will be preferable to the prison method.
This attempts to reduce the conflict to a semantic one: one can claim that this isn’t really “slavery” per se, but a form of penal servitude, or even, a systems of “corrections” not only whose morality no one disputes, but which might warm the cockles of a bleeding heart, at least, if the term “slavery” hadn’t been used. However, it does not mitigate the question of the morality of a human being ever being reduced to the status of chattel. Also, because of the principle “hakoneh eved ivri kanah rav le’atzmo” (one who acquires a Hebrew “slave” acquires oneself a master)—one someone who is quick to proclaim his/her support of the morality of slavery from these halachos must be ready to equally support the halachos regarding the possible “spoiling” of one’s eved.
Then there's this:
Similarly, when we find the concept of slavery in the Torah, while we certainly may and should question and try to understand, it must be with the realization that our Torah is actually the only code of morals that we have that we can be certain is correct (based on our beliefs), and we must accept the Torah whether it fits into our own preconception of what is moral and what is not.
This talented author simultaneously tautologizes, whitewashes, AND begs the question. (This after the author engages in a series of questionable historical analogs between how Jews treated their slaves, vs how non-Jews treated their slaves; after he glosses over the posuk “ta’avidu bahem be’farech”; and, how he undermines his support for his own position by providing a link to a site that features the story of a prominent frum Civil War-era abolitionist who actively assisted escaped slaves.)
Dr. Ronen Ahituv, member of the Midrasha in Oranim, provides what might be a salient defense of the institution of slavery as a “good thing”:
When slavery is viewed as a normal and legitimate arrangement it may also serve as a model for the relationship between humans and God. It is a title of honor for the greatest of saints to be called "God's slave" (see Devarim 27), and the Jewish People as a whole is seen as a slave to God. It is not that slavery is prohibited in principle, but rather that God's slaves are enslaved to Him, and, therefore, they are not available to serve people. This is not a matter of a humanistic value, but rather of a religious value. As a result, classical Jewish texts do not call for the freeing of all slaves. Instead, they represent the Jewish People - and the Jewish People alone - as a nation of free men and woman. This freedom does not entail the rejection of all authority; rather it replaces the yoke of human authority with that of divine authority. The approach which recognizes servitude, which regulates it within a system of rights and obligations, prevents both cruel exploitation on the one hand, and illusions of nihilistic abandonment of responsibility on the other.
An entire novel, “Every Man A Slave”, written by Sender Zeyv, is dedicated to the concept of slavery as a good thing. From the publisher’s website:
The book primarily targets two of the social transitions that were indicative of the times, the abolition of slavery and the modernization (reform) of Judaism. To the adept reader, the Biblical attitude toward human bondage and how the institution fit in with meta-history, receives an in depth treatment. To those interested in the workings of the destruction of faith and immutable morality, the book offers, hopefully, satisfying explanations.
The implication that the abolition of slavery was a malign historical development analogous to the advent of Refrom Judaism would serve as the most salient Torah-bashing soundbite I’ve heard in years.
Closer to bridging the gap is Rabbi Eliezer Berkowits’ theory that he expounds “In Time And Torah”. He maintains, using Rambam’s suggestion in Moreh Nevuchim that G-d commanded the sacrifices for no other reason than to give man an outlet for his potentially idolatrous desires as a template, that the Torah did not outlaw practices that we may now find objectionable because the Jews were not yet ready to abandon them; one such example would be polygamy, which for the most part we eventually outlawed ourselves. Similarly with slavery: it may not have been realistic to outlaw a manner of socio-economic intercourse that was so widespread as to be the very backbone of trade at the time of Matan Torah, and there were limits to the isolation that the Torah wanted to impose on Bnei Yisrael.
This goes far, but not far enough. It attributes a built-in flexibilty to Torah that may or may not be there. For the record, I believe that it is, but just view the many aforementioned arguments to show how trenchant the idea remains that it is not.
So, I’ll take another template and work from there.
In "War Resistance in Jewish Law", in a collection entitled of essays entitled "Encounters”, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan marshals an array of sources to prove that Torah is actually fundamentally pacifist. His conclusions have been, for the most part, textually refuted, but his premise remains salient: if not outright assur, war is never morally desirable. The halachos governing war keep an already bad situation from getting worse.
I would make the same argument vis-à-vis slavery, combining Rabbis' Kaplan and Berkowits’ premises. The Torah, far from actually promoting slavery as morally beneficial, likely views its existence as a necessary evil, but morally suspect at best, repugnant at worst. (I wouldn’t go so far as to call practitioners of slavery in ALL eras as menuvalim birshus haTorah, although the very concept proves that there are some things that may be “muttar” but are morally repugnant, for whatever the reasons.) And like the prophecies that preach of the days that war will be eradicated, the Torah also yearns for the day of, to quote Dr. Ahituv above, the replacement the yoke of human authority with that of Divine authority.
But that’s not all.
I would also like to proffer another theory as to why the Torah would not insist upon the abolition of slavery. More than a universal moral code, the Torah is (obviously) Judeo-centric, and exists for us and our protection. The Torah might have been telling us, in a sense: Al tihyeh tzaddik harbeh. If you are the first to abolish slavery, don’t for a second think the rest of the world will follow your example and not enslave you when given the chance. Similarly with war: an insistence on pacifism as an absolute will result in your complicity in your own murders. To be sure, abolition and peace are good things. Let the rest of the world do it first; you do NOT have to stake your existence on it.
History bears this out. Slavery was never a good thing for anyone, but was nearly ineradicable. It took until 200 years ago for anyone to even contemplate its feasibility, and even now, when slavery is universally outlawed, it is estimated that 26 million people worldwide are enslaved in one form or other. Regarding the universal eradication of war, all we have to look at to understand the difference between theory and policy is the Kellogg-Briand pact.
The ultimate lesson, then, here is:
We come first. Always.
Becuase, as Yonatan Netanyahu said, if we don't take care of ourselves, no one will do it for us.
Side Note: Maybe This Is Why There Are So Many Singles
A colleague of my father's who has never met me tells my father she is, is his words, "desperate" to get me married. After my asking whats driving her, this was his response:
She is desperate to fix you up because she wants to do mitzvos.
This was my email reply.
[ ]’s dedication, and degree of lishma/lo lishma is not for me to question...but im always suspicious of people insistently setting people up just because its a mitzva...remember what Rabbi Tendler said about getting married and its being a mitzva (i heard him say it was like getting a missing pair of tefilin; lenny said he heard him say it was like getting a missing pair of shoes). With all kavod due rabbi tendler that’s not a constructive attitude toward building the relationship necessary for a binyan bayis neeman.
either way...ill meet her, but you might want to let her know that she can also do this on saw you at sinai, if she doesnt already...they probably need a ton of shadchanim, and she can throw people together at her hearts content and see what sticks...
also, between you and, me, im not bothered by my having gotten a haircut, or that you and mom (in the least obtrusive manner possible) "nujjed" me...its your prerogative (ONLY yours), and ultimately, no one told me what to do...but i am INSTANTLY suspicious of someone who says that ill set you up with X but you have to cut your hair...because if its not the hair, itll be something else...the onus in that case is NOT on me, its on the shadchan to find someone who will take my hair, or she can just not set me up and move on...im NOT chayav to make her job easier or pave her way to Gan Eden....
so: unless a) im doing the asking or b) im in yeshiva and the yeshiva shadchan is doing the setting up, it is NOT the shadchans business to give me ANY kind of mussar, no matter how ostensibly salient, or even benign (especially if she never met me)...otherwise shadchanus becomes just another excuse to make sure that there’s the least “shemetz” of “znus” (e.g. a shadchan becomes a “kli sheini” guaranteeing a certain level of “tachlis”…to my mind, a hashkafic c.y.a. G-d forbid anyone should date on their own. Oy.)
plus, in practice, this kind of insistence is poisonous for the romantic possibilities of the setup for both parties, and therefore is ultimately injurious to the prospects of the match's success, which just makes everyone stay unmarried longer. none of us likes it.
this is actually, i think, more of an accurate description of our (singles--and not just west siders') frustration with people (rebbetzin jungreis comes to mind) who wonder why we dont share the enthusiasms of the self-styled shadchanim of the world who wonder why were not RUNNING to get married because they say we should (or must). plus, the concomitant assumption that since were not RUNNING to get married we therefore dont WANT to get married is equally false. maybe, in my case, with me nearing 38, that might be something to consider; but with these people age was never really an issue ([ ] set me up with someone who was---25? poor girl…)
the RIGHT way to do this is either a) again, through the websites that make it easier for the parties to pick and choose with the least amount of concomitant ruffled feathers (like saw you at Sinai; and b) and rabbi [ ], who just suggested somebody off the cuff, which means he wont take it personally if i say no (and i probably will take him up on it).
. ......and while its the 4th quarter and i may behind, i have more than 2 minutes and i havent used up all my timeouts...so i dont need to be a vehicle for someones crusade no matter how well intentioned.
She is desperate to fix you up because she wants to do mitzvos.
This was my email reply.
[ ]’s dedication, and degree of lishma/lo lishma is not for me to question...but im always suspicious of people insistently setting people up just because its a mitzva...remember what Rabbi Tendler said about getting married and its being a mitzva (i heard him say it was like getting a missing pair of tefilin; lenny said he heard him say it was like getting a missing pair of shoes). With all kavod due rabbi tendler that’s not a constructive attitude toward building the relationship necessary for a binyan bayis neeman.
either way...ill meet her, but you might want to let her know that she can also do this on saw you at sinai, if she doesnt already...they probably need a ton of shadchanim, and she can throw people together at her hearts content and see what sticks...
also, between you and, me, im not bothered by my having gotten a haircut, or that you and mom (in the least obtrusive manner possible) "nujjed" me...its your prerogative (ONLY yours), and ultimately, no one told me what to do...but i am INSTANTLY suspicious of someone who says that ill set you up with X but you have to cut your hair...because if its not the hair, itll be something else...the onus in that case is NOT on me, its on the shadchan to find someone who will take my hair, or she can just not set me up and move on...im NOT chayav to make her job easier or pave her way to Gan Eden....
so: unless a) im doing the asking or b) im in yeshiva and the yeshiva shadchan is doing the setting up, it is NOT the shadchans business to give me ANY kind of mussar, no matter how ostensibly salient, or even benign (especially if she never met me)...otherwise shadchanus becomes just another excuse to make sure that there’s the least “shemetz” of “znus” (e.g. a shadchan becomes a “kli sheini” guaranteeing a certain level of “tachlis”…to my mind, a hashkafic c.y.a. G-d forbid anyone should date on their own. Oy.)
plus, in practice, this kind of insistence is poisonous for the romantic possibilities of the setup for both parties, and therefore is ultimately injurious to the prospects of the match's success, which just makes everyone stay unmarried longer. none of us likes it.
this is actually, i think, more of an accurate description of our (singles--and not just west siders') frustration with people (rebbetzin jungreis comes to mind) who wonder why we dont share the enthusiasms of the self-styled shadchanim of the world who wonder why were not RUNNING to get married because they say we should (or must). plus, the concomitant assumption that since were not RUNNING to get married we therefore dont WANT to get married is equally false. maybe, in my case, with me nearing 38, that might be something to consider; but with these people age was never really an issue ([ ] set me up with someone who was---25? poor girl…)
the RIGHT way to do this is either a) again, through the websites that make it easier for the parties to pick and choose with the least amount of concomitant ruffled feathers (like saw you at Sinai; and b) and rabbi [ ], who just suggested somebody off the cuff, which means he wont take it personally if i say no (and i probably will take him up on it).
. ......and while its the 4th quarter and i may behind, i have more than 2 minutes and i havent used up all my timeouts...so i dont need to be a vehicle for someones crusade no matter how well intentioned.
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