Rosh Hashanah Column: On Judgment and Kindness (Column 241)

With God's help

Many have noted that the two approaching festivals, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, express two different metaphysical and psychological poles: judgment and kindness. Rosh Hashanah is the Day of Judgment, and Yom Kippur is an expression of the Holy One’s kindness in accepting the repentance of sinners (and perhaps the very day itself atones). From this perspective, the Ten Days of Repentance constitute a process of movement from judgment to kindness.

In our everyday language, these two concepts receive simple and concrete meanings: judgment is law, something that obligates us, and kindness is acts of beneficence toward others. On this simple plane, these two concepts are not opposites. But Kabbalah greatly expands this pair of concepts and turns them into expressions that describe a pair of opposing forces that create a metaphysical dualism, familiar to us from almost all religious and mystical teachings (yin-yang, male-female, good-evil, matter-spirit, God-Satan, left-right, and so on and so on), and in fact from almost every ideology (children of light versus children of darkness) and form of thought (analytic-synthetic J).

Rashi, at the beginning of his commentary on the Torah, cites a midrash of the Sages:

“God created”—and it does not say, “the Lord created,” because at first it arose in thought to create it with the attribute of justice. He saw that the world could not endure, so He gave precedence to the attribute of mercy and joined it with the attribute of justice. This is what is written: “On the day that the Lord God made earth and heaven.”

The divine names are presented here as expressions of the attribute of judgment and mercy, and here it seems that we are indeed dealing with fundamental forces in creation. The two names express opposing manifestations of Him: the Tetragrammaton expresses kindness, and Elohim expresses judgment. The Torah opens with In the beginning God created, that is, the attribute of judgment created the world. But in the second chapter a double name appears, the Lord-God, which combines kindness (or mercy) with judgment. Interestingly, mercy or kindness by themselves do not appear at all as an option.

What does this mean? What is the meaning of creating a world through judgment or through mercy? What is the difference, and what are the consequences? Through an analysis of this pair of concepts, perhaps we can gain an additional meaning for the coming ten days.

What are judgment and kindness?

There is a measure of opposition between these two concepts even in their simple meaning, and this may open a path for us to understand the broader meanings they later receive. In the simple literal sense, judgment is law or rule. When I take a loan from so-and-so, I must repay it. That payment is a matter of law and not kindness, of course. I am obligated to make it, because there is a law/rule that one who borrows must repay his debt. The same is true of one who damages another, or one who undertakes an obligation toward him: there are laws that determine what he owes, what is permitted, and what is forbidden for him to do in a given situation. Kindness, by contrast, is giving that is not required by law. Thus, for example, if I give charity to a poor person, this is kindness. The reason is that there is no rule or law that determines that, as a matter of law, I owe him the money, and therefore the decision to give him the money is kindness, grounded in my attribute of mercy.[1] Another aspect of this distinction is that judgment is an act of something-from-something: a loan was taken, a debt was created, and now, by force of those two facts, the borrower must repay the debt. This is not left to the decision of the giver (except for the decision whether to fulfill his obligation, of course. But even if he decides not to do so, the court will compel him). Kindness, by contrast, is an act of something-from-nothing. There is nothing prior that causes this giving. It is created solely by the giver’s decision, and that is all (here the law will not compel him to do so).[2]

Kabbalah takes this pair of concepts, exposes the deep foundation in each of them, and then extends them to many additional contexts. Now almost every phenomenon in the world can be analyzed in terms of judgment-kindness (almost like enemies-terrorists, children of light and children of darkness, or analytic-synthetic). In the kabbalistic world, judgment is conduct according to rigid rules. Not specifically rules of Jewish law or civil law, but rules as such. Kindness, by contrast, describes conduct that lies outside the rules, and perhaps even contradicts them. Again, this is in a much broader sense than simply doing a favor for one person or another.

Let us take as an example the meaning of the term "kindness" in the Torah. In most places it appears in the sense of beneficence, but there is one place where this is not at all the case, regarding a man who lies with his sister (Leviticus 20:17):

If a man takes his sister, his father's daughter or his mother's daughter, and sees her nakedness and she sees his nakedness, it is a disgrace; and they shall be cut off before the eyes of the children of their people; he has uncovered his sister’s nakedness; he shall bear his iniquity:

Incest is here called hesed, perhaps because it contradicts the accepted mode of conduct. It goes against the ordinary rules.[3] Many midrashim connect the word "hesed" in this verse to the claim that Cain married his sister, and to the creation of the world, which was done in kindness. For example, in Yalkut Shimoni on this verse (remez 625):

“And he sees her nakedness and she sees his nakedness—it is a kindness” [20:17]: this means that both of them acted deliberately. “It is a kindness”—lest you say that Cain married his sister, therefore Scripture says, “It is a kindness.” And the world, from its very beginning, was created only through kindness, as it is said: “I said: the world is built through kindness.”

The creation of the world is described in many places as an act of kindness. Usually this is tied to the desire of the Holy One, blessed be He, to do good (it is the nature of the good to do good). But this raises quite a few difficulties:[4] is the world really good, and is it good for us to be in it (Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai took a vote and concluded: It would have been better for a person not to have been created [it would have been better for a person not to have been created]). But in the kabbalistic sense of the term kindness, we need not go that far. The creation of the world is the very essence of kindness, since it is done as something-from-nothing (without any prior cause that compels it), and of course because that is where the rules themselves are first created. There is no rule that obligates the creation of the world, and therefore creation itself certainly was not done subject to rules. Creation is therefore perhaps the clearest case of kindness in the kabbalistic sense (not necessarily in the sense of beneficence).

Cain’s marrying his sister is also kindness, because it goes against the rules, but without it humanity could not have continued. In Keter Yonatan there he writes:

And a man who lies with his sister, his father's daughter or his mother's daughter, and disgraces her nakedness—it is a disgrace; for I showed kindness to the ancients [the first generations], because the world was to be filled through them, before I established laws in the world. But from the time I established law in the world, whoever does this shall be cut off in death, and the members of their people shall see their evil; because he disgraced his sister’s nakedness, he shall bear his iniquity:

Cain did this before any law had been given in the world forbidding it. He acted outside the framework of laws, and that is why it is called kindness. Again, there is no need to ask whether this was a good act or not. The term kindness in its deeper sense need not be connected specifically to beneficence.

Interestingly, in other places in Scripture as well, where the term "kindness" appears in its usual sense (beneficence), it is clear that there is something there beyond the difference between good and evil. In all those places it is contrasted with an action measured out according to law and rule. Thus, for example, in the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:5-6):

You shall not bow down to them nor serve them, for I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of fathers upon children, upon the third and the fourth generations of those who hate Me; and showing kindness to thousands, to those who love Me and keep My commandments:

The requital for bad deeds is judgment, and is therefore bounded by a sharp and definite rule: up to the fourth generation. By contrast, the requital for one who does good is kindness, and therefore has no limit. There is no rule or law that restricts it.

Similarly, we can see this in Exodus 34:6-7:

And the Lord passed before him and proclaimed: “The Lord, the Lord, a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger and abundant in kindness and truth; preserving kindness for thousands, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin, yet not clearing completely, visiting the iniquity of fathers upon children and upon children’s children, upon the third and the fourth generations.”

And so too in other parallel appearances (Exodus 34:6-7 ; Numbers 14:18 ; Deuteronomy 5:9-10 ; Deuteronomy 7:9-10).

The last verses teach us another characteristic of judgment as against kindness: judgment has sharp and clear boundaries. Up to here is permitted, and from here is forbidden. Kindness has no boundaries, because there are no rules that limit it.

The combination of kindness and judgment

If so, judgment is delimited and has clear boundaries; kindness does not. Moreover, judgment or law always establishes a principle, and by its very nature such a principle divides the world, or the actions in the world, into two dichotomous kinds: those done according to the law and those against it. It places a boundary between what is permitted and forbidden, or between obligation and permission. Kindness, by contrast, is not measured in terms of permission, obligation, or prohibition. Therefore, with regard to judgment there can be deviation from the law (the law determines a defined domain), whereas in kindness there is no defined and clear domain.

I once heard from Rabbi Pinkus z"l two examples of this. When Eliezer arrives at the well in Haran, Rebecca comes out there (and according to the midrashim she is three years old) and offers him Drink, and I will also draw water for your camels. A three-year-old girl does not content herself with giving a thirsty traveler water but also waters all his camels. That is wildly out of proportion. It would be more reasonable for her perhaps to give him water, and once he had recovered somewhat, he could water his camels himself. But Rebecca here expresses an act of kindness, not only in the sense of beneficence, but in the sense of disproportionate beneficence, that is, something not delimited by the rules of common sense and reason. Logic (judgment) says that she should give Eliezer a little water and let him continue on his own. But kindness does not recognize those rational rules.

Another example is Abraham and his three Arab guests (the angels). He offers each of them a tongue with mustard. It is worth noting that he slaughters three calves so that he will have three tongues. And what does he do with all the rest of the meat? Did he have refrigerators? Why can he not give them a piece of drumstick or something else? I assume that Arab nomads in the desert would have been happy to receive ordinary food as well, and certainly excellent meat, even if it were not tongues with mustard. But Abraham does not behave according to logic and rules. His kindness is expressed not only in beneficence but in a departure from all logic and common sense. An act of kindness in the metaphysical sense is an act that takes no account of rules and does not stop at the reasonable limit. As we saw in the verses cited above, it is infinite.

One may infer from this that these behaviors are not models for imitation. An ordinary person is not supposed to act this way, and perhaps it is not even proper to do so. Slaughtering three calves for three nomadic guests who come to your house is irrational and unreasonable. Someone who does this is acting with improper extravagance and wastefulness, and it is not right to behave that way. A three-year-old girl should not draw water for a herd of camels from the well. Abraham and Rebecca are not presenting here a concrete model for imitation, that is, a proper form of moral behavior. A moral person should perform kindness in a reasonable and measured way, not go wild. What these midrashim describe are acts of kindness in the abstract and metaphysical sense, not an ideal way of conducting oneself. Abraham and Rebecca in these midrashim are not presented as ideal and perfect people, but as archetypal figures, expressions of metaphysical mechanisms (kindness versus judgment). Human beings of flesh and blood, even those who wish to be morally perfect (see the previous column on the moral saint), need to combine their kindness with judgment. One should act according to rules of common sense, not do good without measure and without limit.

As we saw above, the creation of the world is itself kindness. Rashi writes that the Holy One, blessed be He, wanted to create the world with the attribute of judgment; that is, beyond creation itself, which is kindness, He thought it proper to run the world precisely according to rules. But in the end He saw that the world could not endure this and function that way, and therefore He combined mercy with judgment. That combination is very essential: a world built only on mercy or only on kindness cannot endure. Pure kindness, the kind that takes no account of rules at all, certainly cannot endure as a practical method for running a real world. Note well: not only is this not ideal; one may not conduct oneself this way in the real world (perhaps from here stems the flaw in the "moral saint" from the previous column). Kindness must operate within the limits of judgment, that is, under the rules of common sense.

The Kabbalistic Description: Right and Left

In Kabbalah, almost everything is composed of ten sefirot. These are the basic components, the building blocks of reality. In their simple manifestation they have a clear order from top to bottom: Chabad (Chokhmah, Binah, and Daat), Hagat (Chesed, Gevurah, and Tiferet), Nehiyam (Netzach, Hod, Yesod, and Malkhut). But the ten sefirot also have another manifestation, in which they are divided into three parallel lines: right (Chokhmah, Chesed, and Netzach), middle (Daat, Tiferet, Yesod, and Malkhut), and left (Binah, Gevurah, and Hod). The right line expresses the principle of kindness (even though the sefirah of Chesed is only one sefirah within it), and the left line the principle of judgment. Each of the sefirot that belongs to such a line contains an element suited either to action according to rules (left, the line of judgment) or outside them (right, the line of kindness). The middle line contains sefirot that express the combination, the synthesis of kindness with judgment.

Thus Binah is the rules of inference (understanding one thing from another), that is, logical thought according to rational rules, something-from-something, and therefore belongs to the side of judgment. Chokhmah, by contrast, is not subject to rules and is not based on anything outside itself. Chokhmah is "koach mah," that is, things that are true by virtue of themselves (and are not derived from other principles on the basis of logical inference). Chokhmah is therefore in the category of something-from-nothing, and so belongs to the side of kindness. Daat is the combination of these two, natural intuitive understanding together with logical-rational control. Complete thought is only a combination of the two: not unrestrained intuition (fundamentalism. See the introduction to my book Emet Velo Yatziv) and also not pure logic (analytic – postmodern thought. See there). These are the manifestations of kindness and judgment, and of their combination, on the intellectual plane (the Chabad sefirot are in the head).

The same is true of the Hagat sefirot, which are divided according to the same logic, but belong to the plane of character traits (in the area of the heart, below the head). A mode of kindness is conduct like that of Rebecca and Abraham (what is yours is yours, and what is mine is yours). Without prior reason, without rules, without proportion and without logical control. I have already remarked that this is not the right way to conduct oneself in the world. It is not a model for human beings but for metaphysical archetypes. Conduct of Gevurah or judgment, by contrast, assumes that what is mine is mine and what is yours is yours. Here a person behaves according to law and rules, and what he does has a reason and fits the rules. More generally, the heroic person uses his strength to restrain his nature and his eruptive inclinations so that they do not deviate from the rules but are governed by them (Who is mighty? One who conquers his inclination. This is the "rational saint," in the terms of the previous column). In the final analysis, what is required of us is conduct of Tiferet, which is the proper conduct. Tiferet combines these two poles. A person of Tiferet decides when to flow with his inclinations and when not to, and ultimately shapes his inclinations so that they naturally express his values and his conscious desires.[5] This is a Kantian who has internalized his values, become a perfect "rational saint," and can therefore now act as a "loving saint."[6] Kindness is a product that naturally arises from the tendency of a perfect being ("the loving saint," in the terms of the previous column) to do good. Gevurah

The Nehi sefirot are also divided according to the same logic, this time on the plane of actions (execution). Malkhut gathers together everything above it, and therefore of course belongs to the middle line (which contains four sefirot rather than three, unlike the two side lines)[7].

This illustrates the expansion that the pair of concepts kindness-judgment undergoes in the kabbalistic picture. We are now not dealing with beneficence and an act required by law, nor even with kinds of human actions. These are kinds of mechanisms or metaphysical poles, which have expressions on all planes of reality. Even in the individual person this is expressed on three different planes: the intellectual, the characterological, and the practical. In this way a pair of concrete and specific concepts becomes metaphysical forces and a mystical conceptual system that serves to describe, analyze, and understand reality in its own terms. What to the ordinary eye looks like one kind of act or another will in this picture be described on the metaphysical plane, and the terminology will be that of an act of the type of kindness, judgment, or some combination between them.

The ambivalent relations between kindness and judgment

The combination of judgment and kindness is not accidental but necessary. Without judgment there is no kindness, and without kindness there is no judgment. In a world where there are only rules and everything is done according to them, there is no way for it to begin. Everything that exists begins from some point. If everything were something-from-something, there would be nothing at all. This is like a mathematical system without axioms. Without the axioms there is nothing, for all conclusions are derived from them. When there is a natural eruption, rules can come and govern, limit, and check it. But if nothing exists there, what will the rules act upon?! But to the same degree pure kindness cannot exist without judgment. First, kindness has meaning in a world where there is judgment. In such a world, deviation from the law is kindness. But where there is no judgment, there is no deviation from judgment either.[8] In order to grasp something, it must have boundaries. A thing without boundaries cannot exist, at least in the sense of our world. The Infinite had to contract itself in order to enable reality to come into being and endure.

On the practical plane one can observe this empirically. A world built entirely without rules, only on kindness, cannot exist. Conversely, a world built entirely on rules and allowing no deviation from them also has no existence. If you ask people where a world of kindness is found—in a communist world or in a capitalist world—the tendency will generally be to associate kindness with communism. But this is a complete mistake. Communism tried to create a world in which no kindness would be needed. In the communist world, property is distributed equally among all people according to their needs and not according to their contribution, and this is done by force of judgment (the law). In such a world one does not speak of charity (on the contrary, there is no concept more hated by socialists-communists than charity) but of justice (or distributive justice). Property is distributed among everyone, not because there is a commandment to give charity but because it belongs to everyone. In such a world there is no charity and no need for kindness. It is a world in which judgment tries to nullify charity. But it turned out that such a world cannot succeed, and apparently cannot even exist (perhaps this is the root of the collapse of the kibbutzim and of communism in the Soviet Union). In a capitalist world, by contrast, each person receives what he earned. There is no distribution of property among people who did not earn it. In such a world, giving money to the needy is pure kindness, not something required by judgment (law).[9] It is a world built entirely on kindness and not on judgment; it too cannot exist.

The proper combination

From the foregoing analysis grows the social-democratic insight, which proposes different combinations between the conceptions, that is, different dosages of kindness and judgment (these are the different shades of social democracy). It is based on the fact that pure kindness and pure judgment are worlds that cannot endure. One may argue about the proper dosage, but not about the very need for a combination of kindness and judgment.

Perhaps this is also the reason for the dictum that whoever says that the Holy One, blessed be He, is indulgent, whether his life or his bowels will remain (Bava Kamma 50a and parallels). Perhaps the point is to criticize the conception that with the Holy One there are no rules, There is no justice and there is no judge. But that does not mean that He does not do kindness. Once judgment has been established, one can discuss whether to incline toward kindness. But without judgment there will be no kindness either. A legal system that does not operate according to clear laws is not a legal system, and certainly has no effectiveness. But a system that judges only according to rules and laws in a rigid way likewise arrives at distortions, and in practice this is impossible (there is always some involvement of judicial discretion on the part of the judge. It is an illusion to think that a judge can adhere completely to the instructions of the law and nothing beyond them).

As I mentioned above (see note 3), Rabbi Kook in his prayer book Olat Re'iyah devotes quite a few pages to interpreting the binding of Isaac. The core of his words is that the binding comes to teach Abraham and us that a person is not required to sacrifice his good impulse and his values before the divine command. We should have trust in the values planted within us, and faith does not come to uproot them and cause us to act against them. The question that remains difficult is why not say this directly. Why take Abraham our father through this shocking entire journey in order to arrive at the conclusion that from the outset he was right and everything is fine? It seems that in order to reach a state in which he can act according to his values and his natural goodness, a person must pass through an Akedah. Only after he has become accustomed to acting like a Kantian hero, one who conquers his inclinations (the good and the bad) before the higher command (moral or religious), can he return and act naturally. A person who is prepared to sacrifice everything is not required to do so. But a person who from the outset acts according to his nature, without the willingness to undergo an Akedah, will simply do whatever he wants. In order to act according to your nature, that nature must be properly shaped, and this is done by the Akedah. But a person who is always binding and never inclines an ear to his conscience and his natural values also acts in a crooked and distorted way. The correct path is a combination of the natural inclinations and the higher, external command. Groups that keep only natural morality before their eyes create a clear sense that there is no worship of God there and no religious commitment. But groups that ignore natural morality, for whom everything is simply scriptural decree and Akedah before the divine command, arrive at crooked conclusions and a crooked mode of conduct. This is in fact the combination between the "upright" and the "conquering" in Rabbi Kook’s terminology (about which I commented around note 12 in the previous column).

In the terminology of Column 15 (and in many other places here on the site), I say that moral commitment and religious commitment, in my view, both have a Kantian character of subduing inclinations before the command. True, in the moral context the command is more natural, more self-evident to all human beings (although of course there are disagreements about it as well). Therefore here too there is room to speak of a proper combination. Some want to identify the commands of Jewish law with morality, and some want to do the opposite (to ignore morality and leave only Jewish law). But the proper combination is to take both into account and act in accordance with both, even though the dependence between them is tenuous to nonexistent (except after the Sages inserted a certain moral command into Jewish law, as in compelling against the trait of Sodom in the first chapter of Bava Batra).

All this speaks about the Hagat sefirot (the character traits) and the Nehi sefirot (actual behavior). But the same is true in the context of thought (the Chabad sefirot). Some disparage logic (judgment) and assign meaning only to intuition. They are prepared to tolerate even contradictions, in various claims that faith is above reason or above logic and the like. Others see logic as the whole of reality (analytic thinking) and disparage synthetic thinking. Again, the balanced approach that combines both is the more correct one. Intuition is very important, but there must be logical control. Intuition has no absolute status or immunity from logical criticism. Contradictions are out of the question.

Back to the High Holy Days

I began by saying that Rosh Hashanah is the day of judgment and Yom Kippur a day of kindness. In kabbalistic terminology this can be understood in a more significant and principled way. Rosh Hashanah is the day the world was conceived, that is, the day on which the world was conceived. We saw that the creation of the world is kindness, and yet this is the day of judgment. That is because at the beginning of creation the Holy One, blessed be He, wanted to found the world upon judgment. This was the original thought when the world came forth. But afterward He understood that without mixing in some kindness or mercy as well, the whole enterprise could not endure, and therefore Yom Kippur is added for us. After we pass through judgment and are judged according to the rules, kindness can come. Thus it remains true that the Holy One, blessed be He, is not indulgent. He does not ignore judgment, but at most deviates from it. The Ten Days of Repentance express a mixture of judgment and kindness, in which one moves from pure judgment and blends into it more and more kindness. As we have seen, only in this way can the world endure, in the realms of thought, in the realms of character, and in the realms of action.[10]

A good year, and may we all be inscribed and sealed for good

Appendix: Another Look at Judgment and Kindness

The analysis here is a fairly good example of the meaning that kabbalistic terminology can have in clarifying conceptual connections that are not visible to the eye in a simple, initial glance. The terminology of kindness and judgment is a fairly natural expansion of the simple (exoteric) meaning of this pair of concepts, but that expansion focuses their deeper meanings. Without the hints that kabbalistic terminology gives us, it is not easy to arrive at the connection between delimitation and understanding, and between intuition and wisdom and kindness, just as with the connection between the "upright" and the "conquering" in character, in thought, and in action. In this appendix I will broaden the discussion somewhat regarding the meaning of these concepts in the esoteric tradition and their connection to the exoteric.[11]

A.

The Hatam Sofer discusses Lag BaOmer in an interesting and unusual responsum, in Yoreh De'ah, sec. 233:

However, I know what I have heard: that now I will vindicate my generation, and from afar they come to seek the Lord in the holy city of Safed on Lag BaOmer, at the celebration of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, of blessed memory. And although all their intention is for the sake of Heaven, their reward is surely great…But for this very reason, I would be among those who separate themselves, like Ben Durta'i, so that I would not need to sit there and alter their custom in front of them, and so that I would not wish to associate with them in this matter. For the Pri Chadash already went to great lengths in Orach Chayim, sec. 496, in his pamphlet on customs of prohibition, paragraph 14, regarding places that observe a Jewish holiday on the day a miracle was performed for them…for in my humble opinion we say [that is, the reason people make a holiday on a day when a miracle occurred] it is from this a fortiori inference: if from servitude to freedom we recite song, then from death to life all the more so [a kal va-homer from Passover. See Megillah 14a]. But to establish an occasion on which no miracle occurred, and which is not mentioned anywhere in the Talmud or the halakhic decisors, in any place, even by hint or allusion—and where refraining from eulogy and fasting is only a custom—I myself do not know its reason.

The Hatam Sofer, like many others, wonders about and questions the custom of treating Lag BaOmer as something like a holiday even though no miracle occurred on it. One can understand days on which a miracle occurred, like Hanukkah and Purim (and also the "Purim" days of particular communities); the permission, and perhaps even the obligation, to make them festive is learned by an a fortiori argument from Passover (see Megillah 14a: If from slavery to freedom we recite song, then from death to life all the more so?!). But on Lag BaOmer no miracle occurred, so what is there to celebrate?

Later there he suggests another reason, based on the esoteric tradition, for abstaining from eulogies and fasting on Lag BaOmer:

And in the prayer book of Rabbi Yaavetz it is written, based on the esoteric teaching, that it was like a court all of whose members found guilt, yet he was acquitted—that is, “hod she-be-hod”; see there. But according to this, it would have been proper to establish Kol Tov when we reach the gevurot [Gevurah shebe-Gevurah] on the ninth day of LMB"Y [the ninth day of the Omer] except that in any case these are the days of Nisan, during which eulogies are not delivered…

First I must decipher the Yaavetz’s cryptic formulation cited by the Hatam Sofer. The meaning of Lag BaOmer is judgment within judgment, that is, pure judgment (and that is the parable of a court all of whose members convict, where, as is known, in capital cases the defendant goes free. Judgment within judgment is kindness). The sefirot of judgment (from the left line described above, and in the counting of the Omer only the seven lower sefirot are counted — Hagat, Nehi, and Malkhut) are Gevurah and Hod. Therefore there are only two days out of the 49 days of the Omer that are judgment within judgment: either Gevurah within Gevurah or Hod within Hod.[12] And that is what he writes: that it would have been appropriate to celebrate it "when we reach the Gevurot," that is, on the ninth day of the Omer, which is Gevurah within Gevurah, except that since it falls in Nisan it is in any case already festive in the sense that one does not deliver eulogies then, and What use is a lamp at noonday? (what use is a lamp at noon?). Therefore it is celebrated on Hod within Hod, which is precisely Lag BaOmer.

It is worth noting that in rabbinic language, "judgment" is a term for kal va-homer (the expressions in the literature of the Sages: Punishments are not derived by logical inference, Surely this is a logical inference, and others). Kal va-homer is the rule characterized chiefly by the fact that it is rational, that is, understandable to ordinary human reason, almost logical. All rabbinic festivals (including the Purims of various communities) are based on a kal va-homer from Passover, that is, they are learned through the attribute of judgment (the kal va-homer in Megillah 14). But Lag BaOmer, on which no miracle occurred — that is, there is no kal va-homer that teaches it, because there is no logic at its foundation — is not judgment but kindness. Therefore it is celebrated on judgment within judgment, which is in fact kindness (without a reason).

In other words, the essence of judgment is kindness. Judgment is logic, and kindness is that which has no logic. But when one probes judgment all the way down, one discovers kindness. The kindness within judgment is revealed when judgment reaches its fullest expression. This can be understood as follows. When we ask why some claim is true, we can offer a logical argument that proves it on the basis of axioms. The axioms themselves are kindness (there is no argument that proves them). But there is yet another component here: the logical structure of the argument, the logical rules themselves. We saw that logical inference is Binah (understanding one thing from another), that is, judgment. Now if someone comes and asks what the logic is that underlies the logical rule itself — in other words: what is judgment within judgment? — we will have no answer that grounds the logical structure in another logical inference. The validity of logic itself is grounded in intuition, that is, in the reasoning of Chokhmah (the upper sefirah on the right line, the line of kindness). The meaning of this is that one who does not accept intuition cannot use logic either. Someone who looks for a kal va-homer that will explain why one makes a kal va-homer will discover nothing. Lag BaOmer is a kal va-homer, the grandson of a kal va-homer, that is, the kindness that underlies judgment, or the intuition that underlies rational kal va-homer. Lag BaOmer is the festival on which we internalize the fact that there are things above, or at the root of, logic.

B.

With regard to kal va-homer and its meaning on the judgment-kindness axis, it is interesting to study the words of the Rema of Fano in his book Asarah Ma'amarot, in the essay on the middot. I will perhaps begin with an anecdote. If you examine the different explanations of the piyyut "Echad Mi Yodea," you will discover that at "thirteen attributes" most Haggadot explain that the intention is to the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy (certainly Hasidic Haggadot). But in the Brisk Haggadah they bring here, as a matter of course, discussions of kal va-homer; that is, it is self-evident to them that the intention is the thirteen middot by which the Torah is expounded.

In the above-mentioned essay, the Rema of Fano draws a parallel between these two systems. At the beginning of the first middah (kal va-homer) he draws a parallel to the attribute of the Lord, the Lord (the first among the Thirteen Attributes of Mercy), and this is what he writes:

How much more so is there in it an allusion to the supreme crown in its relation to the Cause of Causes, for the crown is slight and dark in relation to its cause, and yet gazing at it is forbidden; all the more so at that which is above it.

What he means to say is that the very existence of the supernal Keter is for the sake of the attribute of kal va-homer, so that we may make from it a kal va-homer to its Maker, and express our relation to the Emanator (=the cause of Keter) through it and in its concepts. In other words, kal va-homer is the tool by which one learns from the lower to the higher. Note that kal va-homer in the language of the Sages is "judgment," and we explained that this is because it is a rational rule that learns one thing from another (Binah). So why in the system of sefirot is it parallel to the first sefirah, which is Chokhmah (the upper sefirah on the right line)? Because kal va-homer begins from the lower but rises to the higher without delimitation. Through it we learn about the Holy One, blessed be He (=the Infinite) from His creation (Keter is its uppermost part). And indeed such an inference is kindness because it is not delimited. But one cannot use such a kal va-homer, because we will never know where to stop. We lack the element of judgment that qualifies and limits it. The proper combination. Here enters the rule of It is sufficient for that which is derived by inference to be like the case from which it is derived, whose purpose is to stop the leveraging of the kal va-homer.[13] True, the Emanator is higher than high above the supernal Keter, and nevertheless we discuss (=describe) Him in the concepts of the supernal Keter. We use human terminology to describe the Holy One, blessed be He, and this is only by force of the It is sufficient. Kindness not limited by judgment is not usable. Nothing can be learned from it. Binah gives form that limits Chokhmah and gives it concrete meaning. Only thus can one use it. One cannot understand what is included in the axioms of geometry unless one applies to them the rules of inference (Binah), which extract from them all the abundant content stored within them. Even someone who knows the axioms very well but is unskilled in using the tools of Binah will be unable to understand what is really latent in them. Binah brings Chokhmah from potentiality to actuality, and enables it to be useful and to function. So kal va-homer allows us to take a conceptual system drawn from creation (Keter and below) and use it to understand something of the infinite divinity. Thus the judgment of It is sufficient is an inseparable part of kal va-homer, and without it kal va-homer has no meaning at all.

We saw that the coming-into-being of the world (creation) is an act of something-from-nothing, that is, kindness. But unless creation is followed by formation, unless matter receives form, it has no existence in our world. This is the proper combination between right and left in the world of material reality.

Not by chance, later there the Rema of Fano explains the Sages’ derivation regarding the rule of It is sufficient itself (Bava Kamma 25a):

Similarly, you may say: “And if her father had but spit in her face, would she not be shamed for seven days?” I might have thought, by an a fortiori inference, that with respect to the Divine Presence it should be fourteen days [for if because of her father she would be shamed for seven days, then because of the Shekhinah she should surely be shamed for fourteen days], therefore Scripture says, “She shall be shut up seven days” [see Bava Kamma 25a, where the rule of It is sufficient is learned in this way].

And the reason is that “her father” was said of the supernal Wisdom [in the Ari’s system, the sefirah of Chokhmah is the partzuf of Abba], for that is creation ex nihilo [Nothingness is the supernal Keter, and Chokhmah is generated from Keter — something from "nothing." Concerning this it is said: But wisdom—from where shall it be found?], and Binah [in the Ari’s system, the sefirah of Binah is Imma] also creation from something [Binah is generated from Chokhmah]. The Torah says that in Miriam’s case both were turned into jaundice [that is the meaning of spit in her face], and regarding them Scripture says, “Would she not be shamed for seven days?”, corresponding to the attributes beneath them that are affected through them [the "seven days" are the seven sefirot below Binah, those that we count in the counting of the Omer]. This shows that there is no a fortiori inference here except in outward appearance, according to the tangible plain sense. And so that the reasons of Torah, the revealed and the hidden, should be equal in their law and aligned together on our lips, halakhah came and established: “It is sufficient”; and so too for all rabbinic matters.

The Rema writes that if Miriam’s father had spat in her face, she would have to be ashamed for seven days. So when the Holy One, blessed be He, spits in her face, she ought to be ashamed immeasurably more (the question why one stops specifically at fourteen is answered there by the commentators. See, for example, the Penei Yehoshua). Only the It is sufficient stops the kal va-homer and determines the concrete result: seven days.

[1] Of course, after Jewish law was given there is a commandment to give charity, and seemingly this turns it from kindness into judgment. But this is not precise, because this is an obligation upon me but not a right of his. Not for nothing does charity belong to Yoreh De'ah and not to Hoshen Mishpat. On this see my article on duties and rights. See further below.

[2] Regarding the Jewish law that authorizes coercion to fulfill the commandment of charity, see the previous note. This is coercion regarding commandments, not judicial coercion like coercion to pay a debt or some payment of a legal nature.

[3] One could discuss why bestiality or other acts do not receive this designation, but this is not the place.

[4] See on this my article on ontic gratitude.

[5] The completely righteous person of the author of the Tanya is a person who has slaughtered the evil impulse and evil itself, meaning that his natural conduct exactly overlaps with conduct supervised by the rules of reason and morality (the "beinoni" of the author of the Tanya also conducts himself this way, but in his case a struggle against the impulses is required).

[6] See below the interpretation of Rabbi Kook regarding the binding of Isaac.

[7] There are presentations in which the upper part of the middle line is Keter (in that case the sefirah of Daat is omitted, and one still retains a structure of ten sefirot). The description there is by way of the three upper sefirot Keter, Chokhmah, and Binah instead of the Chabad we saw (with Keter above Chokhmah and Binah, whereas Daat is below them).

[8] See on this at length in the series of columns on freedom and liberty (126–131).

[9] See my remarks in Column 114 on "the rights of the disabled."

[10] In this context it is worth seeing my remarks in this audio lesson (number 4), on the significance of Rosh Hashanah as setting a framework within which our choice takes place. There too this is the framework of judgment that delimits the activity during the Ten Days of Repentance and throughout the year in general. The principle is similar in structure to what I wrote here.

[11] These remarks are taken from the beginning of the homily for Lag BaOmer (which deals more with the esoteric versus the exoteric, and not with judgment versus kindness).

[12] I do not know why not Gevurah within Hod (Hod within Gevurah also falls in Nisan).

[13] See about it in my two Middah Tovah articles, Parashat Beha'alotekha, 5765-6.