Parashat Mishpatim (5761)

With God’s help, on the eve of the holy Sabbath, Parashat Mishpatim, 5761

Jews and Gentiles: Law, Jewish Law, and Morality

In our parashah a very large number of commandments appear, the main body of which consists of laws that stand at the foundation of the

Hebrew legal system (primarily the laws of damages). In addition, seemingly in a wholly unsystematic way, there are interwoven

in the parashah as well the prohibition of oppressing (causing suffering to) the stranger, the three pilgrimage festivals, the Sabbath and the sabbatical year, the prohibition of meat from a torn animal,

and many other commandments from various domains. Last year, in our discussion of this parashah, we saw the

conclusion that follows from this: that even the legal part of Jewish law has a ‘religious’ layer. Hebrew law,

unlike other legal systems, is not merely a way of organizing life through social

agreement. These commandments too possess religious-metaphysical content and significance. In the remarks here

I wish briefly to illustrate this principle through a concrete halakhic ruling, and to discuss additional implications

of it.

In Jewish law it is accepted that the burden of proof rests upon the claimant; that is, if person A claims money from person B

who is in possession of it, the burden of proof is on the claimant. If the claimant does not produce proof, the money will remain

in the hands of person B, who possesses it. Rabbi Yeshayah Bassan (Ramchal’s teacher) asks why the one who holds

the money is not required to remove it from his possession for fear of the prohibition of robbery. That is, although from a legal standpoint there is no proof

that obligates him to give up the money and hand it to the claimant, he ought to fear the prohibition ‘You shall not steal’ (Leviticus 19:13),

which is a Torah prohibition (in Jewish law it is accepted that in a situation of possible transgression of a Torah prohibition, a

person must be stringent with himself so as not to enter into a doubt regarding a prohibition).

Rabbi Shimon Shkop, in his book Sha’arei Yosher (Gate 5), resolves Rabbi Yeshayah Bassan’s difficulty

by establishing a fundamental halakhic principle: the prohibition ‘You shall not steal’ applies only to situations in which the legal

determination is that the money in a person’s possession is not in his hands lawfully. That is, in a situation where

the legal ruling is that the possessor may keep the money in his hands, the prohibition of

robbery likewise does not apply to him.

This question seemingly raises a great difficulty. It is clear that according to Jewish law the Gentiles as well are commanded to establish

a legal system (as one of the commandments incumbent upon them), and within this framework the laws of

property acquisition also apply. The Torah itself defines modes of acquisition that bind Gentiles, and it is clear that according to the Torah

they have legal ownership of their property.

Accordingly, it is very difficult to understand the halakhah that states that robbing a Gentile is not prohibited by the Torah, but only

rabbinically. Seemingly, in light of Rabbi Shimon Shkop’s words, the prohibition ‘You shall not steal’ is derived from the legal

state of affairs. In the case of a Gentile, the legal state of affairs is that the money in his possession belongs to him lawfully, and if so it

should have followed that one who robs him transgresses the Torah prohibition of ‘You shall not steal.’ If indeed there is no Torah prohibition

against robbing a Gentile, then the principle established by Rabbi Shimon Shkop seemingly does not withstand the test of

Jewish law.

The explanation of this difficulty is that although it is indeed true that the prohibition ‘You shall not steal’ is derived from the legal plane,

it is not identical with it. The prohibition of theft is not merely the prohibitory expression of the legal determination;

rather, it constitutes a second story built upon it. When a person holds money that is not his according to the

legal determination, the prohibition ‘You shall not steal’ also exists. This additional level exists only for a

Jew and not for a Gentile.

It would seem that the reason is that, as we saw, the civil laws among Israel possess

a ‘religious’ content; that is, a Jew’s being the owner of money is a reflection of a spiritual-

metaphysical state. Harming this spiritual-metaphysical state constitutes transgressing the prohibition ‘You shall not steal.’ True,

a Gentile too has acquisitions and ownership, but these express only the social order.

Harming a Gentile’s property is a moral offense, that is, an injury to the social order, but not

a ‘religious’ offense.

Seemingly there is here a leniency with respect to the property of Gentiles, yet on the other hand the explanation offered here

implies that every robbery of a Gentile is a moral offense exactly like robbing a Jew’s property. The difference

between them lies only on the ‘religious’ plane. Jewish law, including its ‘legal’ part, deals with

the ‘religious’ commandments, and therefore it establishes a distinction between robbing a Gentile and robbing a Jew. On the moral plane, which

despite being an extra-halakhic plane is of course binding upon every servant of God, the level of prohibition is identical.

A feeling of discrimination may also arise regarding the distinction that exists on the halakhic plane between Jew and Gentile,

but this claim stems from a misunderstanding. The Gentile’s own prohibition against harming a Jew’s property,

as he himself conceives it, is a moral prohibition (clearly also a legal one, but that too is reciprocal,

and I am not dealing here with that plane). Moral reciprocity requires equal moral treatment,

but I see no reason at all to equalize the religious treatment as well. The halakhic approach

plainly distinguishes between those who belong to the community that observes Jewish law and those who are not. In this,

in my humble opinion, there is no moral defect whatsoever.

So too must we understand the difference between Jew and Gentile with respect to the prohibition of interest. As is well known, there is

a prohibition against lending to a Jew with interest, whereas toward a Gentile there is no prohibition at all. Here too there seemingly arises

a feeling of discrimination. Yet in precisely the same way we must understand that just as, from the Gentile’s perspective, there is

no impediment whatever to lending to a Jew with interest, so too there is no impediment to a Jew’s dealing with him in

full reciprocity. The prohibition against taking (and giving) interest applies only within the community that accepts upon itself

this mode of conduct. There is no reason to treat someone according to standards that are not accepted by him

himself.

Shabbat shalom

This sheet may be placed in genizah in any synagogue or yeshivah. Comments and responses will be gratefully received.

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With God’s help, on the eve of the holy Sabbath, Parashat Terumah, Shabbat Zakhor, 5761

On Elevated Skepticism and Despicable Skepticism

This week we read Parashat Zakhor, which deals with the commandment to remember what Amalek did to us.

This passage is always read on the Sabbath before Purim, since the decrees of wicked Haman are seen as a continuation

of the struggle between Amalek and Israel (Haman was of the seed of Amalek). Our Sages taught that ‘Amalek’

has the numerical value of ‘doubt’; that is, Amalek symbolizes doubt, and Israel, standing against him, symbolizes certainty.

In our age, doubt is perceived as an elevated state. A person willing to cast doubt on his certainties is considered more enlightened,

whereas one who is sure of his own rightness and of the other’s error is regarded as primitive. Skepticism is also perceived

as an expression of humility, which is certainly a desirable trait. Can the intuitions regarding

the virtues of skepticism be reconciled with the disparagement that the Sages find in it?

Amalek is also described in the sources as a ‘scoffer.’ ‘Strike a scoffer and the simple will become shrewd’ (Proverbs 19:25) — this

refers to Amalek. Scoffing is the sticking of a pin into balloons; that is, reducing the importance of things. The Sages say that

‘All scoffing is forbidden except scoffing at idolatry’; that is, scoffing is contemptible except when directed at idolatry.

It follows that scoffing is not contemptible in and of itself, for scoffing that reduces the importance of

something contemptible (or of something with only illusory importance) is blessed. Scoffing as a worldview,

the totalizing kind, is the contemptible scoffing.

Scoffing is the cousin of skepticism, for skepticism is the reduction of truth’s importance. When there is

no truth in the world, nothing has any importance. Parallel to scoffing, here too there is a difference

between understanding that any one of us may be mistaken, and an overall conception that there is no truth at all.

The skepticism of humility is a skepticism that understands that there may be error in our judgments. Despicable

skepticism is skepticism that denies the very existence of truth.

There is a well-known story about a Gentile who came to a Jewish sage and told him that the Torah says, ‘Follow the majority’ (Exodus 23:2),

meaning that we must decide in accordance with the view of the majority. If so, argued that Gentile, we Jews

must follow the ways of the Gentiles, who are the majority. Several answers have been given to this question. One well-known answer is

that the commandment to follow the majority applies only in a situation of doubt. When I do not know whether a certain piece of meat

is kosher or carrion, I must follow the majority. But in a situation in which I know the truth and have no doubt

at all, there is no rule of following the majority. By way of analogy: someone who knows, by whatever means, the results of the lottery —

would it make sense for him to mark on the ticket the guesses that most people who do not know mark? Would

he rely at all on any statistical considerations?

A similar formulation of this answer follows a midrash of the Sages describing how, when the Holy One, blessed be He, wished to create

man, He consulted, as it were, with the heavenly retinue. Truth and peace said that he should not be created,

while justice said that he should be created. Since there was a majority against the creation of man, the Holy One, blessed be He, took an

anti-democratic step and cast truth to the ground (as it says, ‘And truth was cast to the ground’ [Daniel 8:12]), and thus a majority was formed

together with Himself in favor of creating man. And the Kotzker Rebbe asked: why did God cast down truth

and not peace? He explained that had God cast down peace, there would have remained a situation in which there was

a majority to create man and the attribute of truth stood in the minority. Against truth,

said the Kotzker, no majority avails.

The Gentile’s question, in the story above, represents the position that there is no truth at all, and everything is determined by the majority.

This is a very widespread position in our regions, where the law stands above everything, and democratic majority rule

is considered the supreme clarification of truth. At times this approach expresses a conception that there is no truth.

In a fragmented society in which there are almost no agreed-upon truths, there is no choice but to rely in a total way

on the law and on majority decision.

The answer above, in both its formulations, should remind us that majority decision is not a tool for clarifying

truth, and certainly not when I am convinced of my truth. Majority decision is a means of acting in an agreed-upon

way even when there is no agreement. If the majority says something, there is no guarantee whatever that it is right. At

most, since there is no better way to run a society, we accept upon ourselves the rule

of conduct of following the majority. Clearly, there is no need at all to adopt the majority position as such.

One implication of this understanding is the possibility of breaking the law in certain cases. One who understands

that the law is not an expression of truth, but a useful social convention, also understands that there are cases in which

a person is permitted, and perhaps even commanded, to break the law. The principle that obligates one to keep the law

is itself not included within the law; for if it were, there would be no reason to keep that principle itself. The commitment to the law

is located within a system of values that precedes it and stands above it. Only one who does not recognize the existence of such a

system — a skeptic — can err and claim the superiority of the law over every other principle in all cases.

It is interesting to note that on Purim several laws are broken (halakhic and normative), and this

is apparently an antithesis to the skepticism that asserts the supremacy of the law.

It seems to me that if we observe the society around us, we will see that the conception of the absolute supremacy of the rule

of law generally characterizes social strata that present themselves as skeptical, while the denial

of its supremacy characterizes those who are perceived as less skeptical. A position asserting the absolute supremacy

of the law is often (though not always, of course) an expression of denial of the existence of truth altogether.

This is a kind of Amalekite tendency, and one must beware of it.

The scoffing of Purim can come only after the preparation that we receive in Parashat Zakhor.

Shabbat shalom

This sheet may be placed in genizah in any synagogue or yeshivah. Comments and responses will be gratefully received.

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Note: 1. Gifts to the poor are apparently not for the meal. 2. Does the reason for advancing Purim

relate to gifts to the poor, or also to the reading (see Rabbi Zevin, Ha-Mo’adim BaHalakhah)?

To check!!!

With God’s help, on the eve of the holy Sabbath, Parashat Tetzaveh, Triple Purim, 5761

Gifts to the Poor: For the Sake of the Giver or for the Sake of the Recipient

As is well known, Purim is celebrated on the fourteenth day of the month of Adar in cities that were not surrounded by a wall since the days of Joshua son of

Nun (‘towns’), and on the fifteenth of Adar in walled cities (‘walled cities’). This year the fourteenth of Adar falls on Friday,

and therefore Purim for walled cities ought to occur on the Sabbath. In such a situation, in the walled cities the Megillah is read on Friday,

and on the Sabbath ‘And Amalek came’ (Exodus 17:8ff.) is read and ‘For the miracles’ is recited. Regarding the Purim meal,

the halakhic authorities disagree whether it is held on the Sabbath or on the Sunday following it. Because the

laws of Purim in the walled cities are spread over three days, such a situation is called ‘Triple Purim.’

One of the explanations appearing in the Talmud for advancing the reading of the Megillah to Friday is that ‘the eyes of

the poor are lifted toward the reading of the Megillah.’ And Rashi explains that the poor expect to receive gifts

to the poor, which is one of the commandments of the day, and if the Megillah were read on the Sabbath it would not be possible

to give them the gifts.

Seemingly, there is a way to solve the problem by ruling that the gifts to the poor be given on Friday

and the Megillah be read on the Sabbath, as required. It appears from here that gifts to the poor must be given specifically

on the day of the Megillah reading, and therefore advancing the gifts necessarily entails advancing the Megillah reading.

By contrast, it is well known that gifts to the poor are for the sake of the Purim meal, and therefore it would seem that

advancing the giving of the gifts to Friday supports the view that the meal should be held on the Sabbath; for if we

maintain that the meal should be held on Sunday, then the gifts could have been given on Sunday together

with the meal, as in every ordinary year.

We may conclude from here that gifts to the poor have a double significance: supplying the needs of the

poor person’s meal (and therefore it is preferable to give them on the day of his meal), and the fulfillment of a commandment by the giver (and therefore they must be given

on the day of the Megillah reading).

Among the halakhic authorities there are questions regarding an inhabitant of an unwalled city who sent gifts to the poor to an inhabitant

of a walled city: must he do so on the fourteenth (the giver’s Purim) or on the fifteenth (the recipient’s Purim)? And likewise

the reverse, where an inhabitant of a walled city sent to an inhabitant of an unwalled city. Seemingly this question depends on whether we understand gifts

to the poor (and also sending portions of food) as a commandment dependent on the giver — that is, that the giver is obligated to give

gifts to the poor on his own Purim — or as a commandment dependent on the recipient, in which case we must send gifts

on the recipient’s Purim day. It seems that here too the discussion is similar.

It would seem that this question depends on how one understands the commandment of the gifts (and perhaps interpersonal commandments in general):

does it come to rectify the giver’s spiritual state and moral traits, or rather to improve

the recipient’s material condition? If the goal of the commandment is the spiritual refinement of the one who gives, then

it stands to reason that he must send the gifts on his own Purim, for the Sages imposed upon him a commandment to give gifts

specifically on Purim. But if the goal is the improvement of the recipient’s condition, it would seem that one should send the

gifts specifically on the day on which the recipient needs them.

A question of this kind is discussed in the Talmud. Wicked Turnus Rufus asked Rabbi Akiva: ‘If your God

loves the poor, why does He not sustain them?’ He said to him: ‘So that through them we may be saved from the judgment of

Gehinnom.’ That is, wicked Turnus Rufus thought that the purpose of charity is only the rescue of the poor, and to this

Rabbi Akiva replies that the purpose of giving is also for the sake of the giver and not only for the sake of the recipient. The commandment of charity,

like every other commandment, is intended in order ‘to refine God’s creatures’ — that is, those who perform it

(see also Sefer HaChinukh, commandment 66).

According to Turnus Rufus’s conception, it appears that the purpose of charity is the poor person, and therefore it is entirely clear that we must

give it to him on the day he needs it. According to Rabbi Akiva, the question is more difficult. One might have understood

that although the purpose of charity is the person who gives it, the act of charity is assistance to the poor, and therefore

it is clear that we must give it on the day when he needs it (as follows from the conclusion based on

Turnus Rufus’s mistaken conception). However, according to Rabbi Akiva’s position there is also opened the possibility of understanding that in giving charity there is

also (and of course not only) a dimension of spiritual benefit to the giver, and therefore it is important that it be given on the day

designated for him, that is, on his own Purim day.

And in fact, in light of the previous discussion of Triple Purim, it appears that charity has both dimensions (as Rabbi

Akiva maintained): it benefits the giver, and therefore it must be given on the day of the Megillah reading (Friday

this year), for that is when, by the Sages’ ordinance, the spiritual benefit of this commandment accrues to the giver of the gifts.

But there is also a dimension of benefit to the recipient, and therefore it should be given for the needs of the poor person’s

meal (which this year in the walled cities is held on Sunday). As stated, the Sages had to advance the reading

of the Megillah to Friday, and did not suffice with advancing only the commandment of giving, in order to enable gifts

to the poor to be given on the day of the reading. The Sages desired the giver’s refinement.

In a Triple Purim situation there is a split between the reading and the meal, and here the nature

of the commandment of gifts to the poor can be examined more sharply. From the halakhah it emerges that the goal is benefit

to the giver, for in such a situation the commandment of the gifts is on the day of the reading (the giver’s day) and not on the day of the meal

(the recipient’s). From here it would seemingly also follow regarding the halakhic doubt described above (which applies

every year), that an inhabitant of an unwalled city who sends his gifts to an inhabitant of a walled city, or vice versa, must send them

on his own Purim day (that is, the giver’s).

Last week’s parashah opens with the words: ‘Speak to the children of Israel, that they take for Me an offering. From every man

whose heart moves him you shall take…’ (Exodus 25:2). The Sages say (see Rashi there) that the essence of the offering is the

willingness of the giver’s heart. If the purpose were only the improvement of the recipient’s condition, what difference would it

make whether there is willingness of heart or not? From here again it emerges that the offering is also for the sake of the giver, and therefore it is not enough

to give; it must also be given willingly.

Shabbat shalom

This sheet may be placed in genizah in any synagogue or yeshivah. Comments and responses will be gratefully received.

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With God’s help, on the eve of the holy Sabbath, Parashat Ki Tisa, 5761

What Does Moses Our Teacher Have to Do with Kant’s Philosophy

In our parashah, Moses our Teacher stands in the cleft of the rock and asks the Holy One, blessed be He, ‘Show me, please, Your glory.’

He is answered with the expected response: ‘You cannot see My face, for man shall not see Me and live… and you shall see My back, but My face shall not be seen’

(Exodus 33:18-23). This is a very puzzling dialogue. Did Moses not know that God cannot be seen?

Why, then, can God’s back be seen? I would like to connect this to a fundamental issue in the philosophical theory of knowledge.

The philosopher Immanuel Kant taught that a human being cannot know reality as it is, but only

its reflection in his cognition. In reality there are objects, and to them we have no access whatever. What we

can grasp is only their properties as they appear in our cognition. Human cognition

is limited by its very nature, in that it uses certain tools for its operation, and these shape

the picture that is received. It is quite likely that if our cognition had a different structure, we would see the

world in an entirely different way.

This Kantian claim is usually perceived as a description of a human limitation: since we are human beings,

we are limited because we use the tools of human cognition. In my humble opinion, it seems that this is not so.

If we had other tools, we would indeed see a different world, but it is clear that it is impossible

to apprehend the world without tools altogether. That is, the tools our perception uses do not

constitute any limitation; rather, they are an inherent condition of the very act of cognizing things external to us.

The tools of cognition are a necessary condition for all cognition.

Let us take an example to illustrate the matter. When we see some flower whose color is yellow, it is clear that the

yellow color is the result of the operation of our sensory tools (eyes + brain) upon the external object.

If, for example, we were to replace the yellow sensor in our brain with the sensor responsible for the color

red, then we would see that very same flower in red. More than that, if we were to connect the eyes to the auditory

center in the brain, we would hear (!) the flower’s color rather than see it (the matter is similar to connecting

a microphone to an oscilloscope. In such a situation we literally see sounds). Generally speaking,

electromagnetic waves exist in the world itself, and we translate them into colors. Similarly,

acoustic waves that exist in the world are translated by us into sounds. Colors and sounds do not exist in the world, but only within us.

More generally, let us say: the type of cognition determines the kind of sensation that will be produced in us when we observe

any given object. This claim can be extended further to say that all the properties we

attribute to objects are nothing but the manner of the objects’ reflection in cognition. Tell me how your

cognition is structured, and I will tell you what you see.

Let us now ask ourselves what a creature devoid of cognitive tools would see when observing that same yellow flower. The answer

is that it could not observe such a flower at all. It would sense nothing. As stated, sensory

and cognitive tools are not a limitation upon human perception but a necessary condition for perception at all. When I ask

what the flower’s color is, I assume that the one being asked observes it by means of eyes. In the same way, every question

about the properties of an object presupposes a system of a certain sort that observes it. From here there emerges a far-

reaching conclusion: Kant’s ‘limitation’ is no limitation at all. There is no perception without tools of perception. The question,

‘What is the flower’s color?’ means: what sensation is produced in human cognition when it observes this flower?

In other words: properties are not characteristics of things in themselves. Properties are the modes

of appearance of things in our cognition.

Regarding God, many have already written that we are unable to apprehend Him as He is, but only

His appearance in the world. In light of what we said above, a difficult question arises: in what way is the human apprehension of

divinity different from human apprehension of any object whatsoever? As we have seen, with respect to every object it is correct to say

that we have no access to it as it is in itself, but only to its appearance in our cognition. If so, in what way is God different

from every other object?

Perhaps Moses our Teacher’s question — who wished to ‘see’ God’s glory — may be interpreted in this way.

Perhaps Moses thought that since no object at all is apprehended by us in itself, and we know only its appearance

to us, then such cognition would seemingly also be possible for us with regard to divinity.

If it is permitted to climb to such heights, perhaps one may even attempt to offer an interpretation of the answer

that Moses our Teacher received. The Holy One, blessed be He, explained to Moses that we have no ability at all to create contact,

or any sort of relation, with divinity. We cannot gaze at divinity and form from it any sort of picture in our cognition.

In contrast to every other object, our knowledge of God is based on observing objects that represent Him,

and not on observing Him Himself. God’s attributes and names, unlike the attributes and names of ordinary objects, are

themselves entities given to us so that through them we may know Him. Kantian philosophy

applies only to ordinary objects, not to divinity.

In this way one may perhaps also understand the puzzling answer Moses received. How can one see God’s back?

God’s back consists of created entities that serve as His representatives

for us. These ‘backs’ are the spiritual worlds to which we have some cognitive access

(of course not through our ordinary senses). Only these was Moses our Teacher granted permission to behold. These objects

can produce some picture in a person’s cognition. Yet even they do not resemble ordinary objects,

for they are not disclosed before every person, but only before one who reaches the level of

prophecy.

Shabbat shalom

This sheet may be placed in genizah in any synagogue or yeshivah. Comments and responses will be gratefully received.

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