“What Is the Difference Between My Son and My Father-in-Law’s Son”: The Hanukkah Menorah and the Christmas Tree (Column 44)
With God’s help
In these turbulent days, when Christmas and Hanukkah are all mixed together—Heaven forfend—I remembered that a few weeks ago I received the amusing clip here (which many of you surely received as well. I highly recommend watching it). The clip deals with what would happen if, in Jewish tradition, there were a law requiring one to place a Christmas tree in the house on some particular day (Hanukkah?). This comedian explains, with great taste and good sense, that if we had such a commandment, there would certainly arise a Tractate of the Tree dealing with the laws of the Christmas tree. Within it we would engage in dialectical hairsplitting over how the tree is to be set up, when and what blessing is recited over it, in what order the lights on it are lit, and what the law is if one of them goes out or grows dim. Who buys the tree and who is obligated to set it up. Whether one fulfills the obligation with a forest fir or only with a stream-side fir. How many branches it must have, what its height must be, and with which foot it should be dragged from the roof of the car to become the sukkah’s roofing after use. And of course, above all stands the question of which of all this is indispensable and which is not.
After I finished laughing, I remembered that in fact we already have a Tractate of the Tree, written in blood, sweat, and tears by the Chief Rabbinate—may it be rebuilt and established, of sainted and holy blessed memory. True, this is not about a commandment but about a prohibition, but a tractate it certainly is. And so I begin, with God’s help.
The Tractate of the Tree: Introduction
A few years ago, when to my shame I still refrained from consuming products relying on the sale permit (heter mekhira) during the Sabbatical year, I saw that the Mickey Salads factory was producing strictly kosher products during the Sabbatical year (with no concern about Jewish-grown produce), and they even continued selling them at the same price as the year before. Before I had time to admire this consumer-friendly and Zionist consideration, I discovered to my astonishment that the bottom of the container was noticeably recessed compared to what I had been used to. In other words, the volume of the product had shrunk dramatically without the buyer paying attention to the wonder he was purchasing (no doubt out of consideration for his feelings, so as not to cause him distress in the very midst of the holy Sabbatical year).
In my poverty and innocence I then approached the person responsible for kashrut in the Rishon Lezion Rabbinate and told him that consuming products relying on the sale permit, even according to the views that forbid it, involves at most a possible rabbinic prohibition. By contrast, overcharging, deception, and theft are severe Torah prohibitions according to all views. I wondered why they are stringent about a possible rabbinic prohibition and lenient about certain severe Torah prohibitions. I was promised that the matter would be checked with the competent authorities. As far as I know, their thorough investigation has still not been completed (this was about fifteen years ago). So who said the Chief Rabbinate does not work thoroughly?…
The Tractate of the Tree: Chapter One
As is well known, I am one of the great defenders of the Jewish people (Ali Baba, known as the holy NMR, once diagnosed me as a reincarnation of Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev through his third cousin on the left), and so I judged them favorably. They deal only with the kosher status of the food, I told myself, and therefore they do not revoke certification because of side issues (that is, issues that do not prohibit the food itself). I brought myself proof from the fact that they are likewise not particular about prohibitions of cruelty to animals, abuse of workers, withholding wages, and the like. At that point I relaxed, and the verse was fulfilled in me: "Return, my soul, to your rest…" (“Return, my soul, to your rest…”).
But then I remembered that it is a matter of common knowledge that the Chief Rabbinate used to require hotels and various event venues not to display Christmas trees and Christian symbols, and not to hold Christmas parties, under threat that their kosher certification would be removed. I wondered what the difference was between this and that. Why is the grave prohibition of a Christmas tree, which is also in the category of a "side
issue," regarded by our teachers and masters in the Chief Rabbinate as worse than a whole pile of severe Torah prohibitions? True, all those are mere trifles, since at most they involve theft, overcharging, deception, withholding wages, cruelty to animals (which perhaps is not even Torah-level), whereas a Christmas tree, though there is no explicit verse prohibiting it, is like mountains hanging by a hair. How can one compare such trifles as abusing people and animals to the terrible prohibition of displaying Christmas trees, Heaven forfend, from which all who enter never return?
At that point I further told myself that one must find yet another favorable construction for them (although of course they are not in the category of "One who acts as a member of your people" [one who acts as your people do], still a reincarnation of Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev would not use that dispensation). They presumably rule in accordance with the view of the Ran that even for the accessories of idolatry one must be killed rather than transgress, and in their compassionate concern for the souls of those who cause others to stumble and those who stumble, the leaders of the community—the righteous men of the generation in the Rabbinate—sacrifice themselves on their behalf, so that they not defile their souls with the terrible prohibition of the Christmas tree, for anyone who transgresses it under "It shall not be seen" (“it shall not be seen”) is judged by the law of Gehenna, God forbid.
The Tractate of the Tree: Chapter Two
The next chapter in the saga came almost two years ago, when it was published that the prohibition on displaying Christmas trees in hotels had been removed. At Walla they went one better and clarified that this was part of a new policy in which the Rabbinate had decided to focus on food kashrut and ignore "side issues" (see above, folio 2a).
I immediately understood that this was really a matter of drawing lessons and increasing the coherence of the Chief Rabbinate’s conduct, for as noted it had always ignored most side issues (except for the accessories of idolatry, as above). And now it had decided to ignore the side issue of Christmas trees as well. True, I wondered how, in their breadth of understanding, they had ruled against the above-mentioned view of the Ran and permitted the accessories of idolatry, perhaps thereby causing the entire innocent public to stumble in the terrible prohibition of the Christmas tree. Moreover, it turns out that we are casting aspersions on earlier generations, who on Christmas, God forbid, ate without a Christmas tree.
I consoled myself with the thought that this was surely a decree whose rationale had lapsed, and that they followed the Ra’avad in Hilkhot Mamrim, that a court greater in wisdom and number can repeal it (for it is obvious that the court of our day is ten times greater than the courts that prohibited the Christmas-tree decree. And as is well known, the chief rabbis and the members of the Rabbinate Council are truly among the greatest figures of the generations, for all the great men of the age and transmitters of tradition who chose them for their offices established as much). In their desire, these righteous men, to ease matters for all Israel, our rabbis ruled like the Ra’avad against Maimonides, and perhaps they also relied as a subsidiary consideration on the view of those who hold that Christianity is not idolatry.
The Tractate of the Tree: Chapter Three
But then came the next chapter. About a week ago we were informed of a blessed initiative by the Chief Rabbinate in Jerusalem, which notified the city’s hotels that it is forbidden to display Christmas trees. This immediately reminded me of a question that reached me a few days ago, in which I was asked my opinion about the display of a Christmas tree at the Technion. The rabbi of the Technion forbade entering the student center and eating in the restaurants there because of the placement of the tree. In this, that rebellious elder of course disputes the position of the Chief Rabbinate, which holds that there is no prohibition against eating and staying overnight in places where such trees are found. And I wondered to myself how these two dared raise their hand against those supremely righteous men who are greater in wisdom and number than all their predecessors, as above.
Were I not afraid, it would seem that one could resolve this by saying that the prohibition on Christmas trees applies only to stream-side firs, whereas the permission concerns river firs. And some say that the prohibition is on lighting the bulbs from the right, whereas those who permit ruled only for those who light from the left-hand side. See all this in the above clip. There is, however, also the possibility that those who prohibit think that the sages of the Chief Rabbinate are not greater in wisdom and number than their predecessors (and even without a heavenly voice I have no doubt that on this point the ruling follows them).
That concludes the Tree Affair, and all the deeds of the Rabbinate, its greatness, the force of its vast wisdom and righteousness—behold, they are written in the Book of Chronicles of the Kings of Media and Persia. See further below.
The Laws of Hanukkah as a Tractate of the Tree
During Hanukkah we read and hear quite a few halakhic discussions dealing with questions such as where and when to light the candles. What is the law regarding guests and those staying with others? From which side should one light the Hanukkah menorah? Is it preferable to light at night when many members of the household are present, or at the proper time when most of them are not there? Should one light at the entrance of the house or in the window? And if the window is more than twenty cubits above the street, is it still valid to light there because of the windows in the building across the way? And are those twenty cubits measured diagonally or straight? And what about a soldier, or a yeshiva student, for whom candles were lit at home? And so on and so on. For some reason, even before I quite realize it, a large part of these questions remind me of the skit above. They are, after all, the dialectical hairsplitting of the Tree in this tractate.
But of course I am immediately seized by pangs of conscience, for this is the way of Jewish law. Nearly all areas of Jewish law developed in this way, some earlier and others later. One begins with some initial determination, and from then on there is a chain of interpretations and expansions according to circumstances, the new plain readings that arise every day, and the lines of reasoning that are coined anew at every turn. So why, nevertheless, do these feelings refuse to leave me specifically in relation to Hanukkah? Here in particular I have the feeling that all this really is hairsplitting over wood and straw. "And the city of Shushan was perplexed…" (“And the city of Shushan was perplexed…”).
Possible Explanations
When I try to analyze the matter, I notice a few points that may be relevant to this feeling. For example, last Sabbath I heard such a lecture, and in the end it concluded that according to the different approaches one may light either this way or that. Then one of the listeners asked—a simple Jew, clearly not a great expert in Jewish law: Wait, if the conclusion is that you can do it either this way or that, then what was the point of the lecture? Basically everything is possible, and that’s it. And indeed, after thinking about it, I noticed that in many cases such a lecture ends with the conclusion that there is a dispute and one may do either this or that. Moreover, in most of these questions there is no real basis for the different views aside from one statement or another by some authority. That is, the approaches discussed in the lecture are based on the reasoning of one halakhic decisor, and that in turn generates a new branch of discussion. But in the conclusion it always turns out that one can do it this way or that way. I can come up with such reasoning too, so what is the point of all this dialectic?
I must admit that it is hard for me to take these lectures and discussions seriously. I can produce arguments this way and that on all these questions, and they will be worth precisely as much as the arguments of all the great medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim). So why not simply tell people: do what you think, or what you think best, and everything will be fine. Why do I need to review what Maimonides and the Rashba and Tosafot said, or Rabbi Ovadia and Rabbi Shapira, when all these statements are nothing more than lines of reasoning? I have such reasoning too.
There is room to distinguish between authoritative sources, such as the Mishnah and the Talmuds, and halakhic decisors, important as they may be. Discussion of authoritative sources is different, since even the lines of reasoning that appear there bind us, and therefore we must examine exactly what they mean. In case of doubt, one must use reasoning to interpret what is said in them, and if that is not possible then one must apply the rules governing doubt. But when the whole discussion is stirred up by the statement of this or that decisor, it often seems to me that the discussion is pointless. As for the reasoning of decisors that establishes a new law out of pure reasoning, in my humble opinion it is worth no more than my own reasoning.
These matters are of course connected to the distinction I have pointed to several times in the past between first- and second-order halakhic ruling, and I will not return to it here.
Back to the Tractate of the Tree: Between My Son and My Father-in-Law’s Son
Returning to the skit above, there is actually something very sensible about Christian practice. The dialectical constructions we are used to building around everything we deal with sometimes look ridiculous when viewed with the naked and unbiased eye. They put up a Christmas tree because it is pleasant, and there is no reason to split hairs to death over the laws of the tree and the lighting of the bulbs on it. Perhaps the Hanukkah menorah too was originally something like that. The sages decided that it would be nice and appropriate to light candles in memory of the miracle. They did not establish a special tractate on the matter (unlike Purim), and probably did not even dream what their students and their students’ students would do with that determination. But Jews being Jews, over the years we turned candle-lighting into a tractate, and a detailed halakhic corpus came into being, full of dialectical hairsplitting and preoccupation with details that no one had imagined beforehand and that for the most part rest on very shaky foundations.
By the way, with all the sorrow and pain, from this perspective one can actually understand why the Chief Rabbinate insists specifically on the Christmas tree. True, there is no prohibition in it, and it certainly does not affect the kosher status of the food in any way, and there is no doubt that other Torah prohibitions it does not insist on are twice as severe. And yet there are considerations here that are not points of legal minutiae but a confrontation with broader and more essential cultural and other meanings. They are dealing with the tree and not with the Tractate of the Tree. I personally do not agree with their approach to the tree, at least insofar as placing it in hotels and universities is nothing more than consideration for guests and students of other religions (similar to lighting the Hanukkah menorah in the White House), but I can understand why they think that this is precisely the point on which one must insist. The implication is that the tree decree of our masters in the Chief Rabbinate should not be discussed within the framework of the Tractate of the Tree (as I have done here), but as Christians discuss the Christmas tree—that is, in terms of the meaning of the thing itself and not petty nitpicking about its details. Suddenly I thought that my very criticism of them is itself a kind of "Tractate of the Tree" approach.
An Illustration from the Dispute between Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel Regarding the Lighting of the Candles
As is well known, Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai disagree about the order of lighting the candles: whether one increases day by day or decreases day by day. Many have already wondered about this dispute, since the Hanukkah miracle did not precede Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel by many years.[1] How, then, did Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai disagree about this enactment? Did they not see what their fathers had done? Over so short a period, when Israel dwelt in its land, it is unlikely that such a disruption of the tradition occurred. One could explain that they did not disagree about the character of the original enactment but about the law of the enhanced practice that was added to that enactment and is not obligatory, and therefore perhaps not the whole community followed it. On that basis, the possibility of a disruption in the tradition sounds somewhat more reasonable. But here I will suggest another direction for explaining it.
Maimonides writes (Laws of Hanukkah 3:2):
For this reason, the sages of that generation instituted that these eight days, beginning on the twenty-fifth of Kislev, should be days of joy and praise, and that lamps should be lit on them in the evening at the entrances of the houses on each and every night of the eight nights, to show and reveal the miracle. These days are called Hanukkah, and they are forbidden for eulogy and fasting, like the days of Purim. And the lighting of the lamps on them is a commandment of rabbinic origin, like the reading of the Megillah.
His wording requires explanation. First, it is not clear why at the end of his remarks he goes back and adds that lighting the candles on these days is rabbinic, when at the beginning of his remarks he has already presented all these laws as an enactment. Second, his wording at the beginning of the law is not unambiguous. On its face he seems to say that the enactment was to establish days of joy, Hallel, and candle-lighting, but the plain sense of his language is that the enactment was only days of joy and Hallel, and afterward he adds that in addition we also light candles on them. In other words, candle-lighting really was not part of the original Hasmonean enactment. This also explains why he separately adds at the end of the law that this rule of candle-lighting is rabbinic, like the reading of the Megillah. Above he was speaking about the enactment of the Hasmonean house, and at the end of the law he speaks about the later addition and sharpens the point that it too is rabbinic law (and not a mere custom).[2]
In the background of this one should note that in the "Al HaNissim" addition to the prayer and in many other sources (such as the Book of Maccabees, Josippon, and Pesikta Rabbati), the miracle of the cruse of oil is not mentioned (either because it is a myth created later, or because, as many have already explained, it assumed central significance in the later period after the Destruction, as opposed to the victory in war, which was perceived as the main miracle during the period of independence before the Destruction). There is therefore room for the view that in the days of Mattathias and the Hasmoneans they truly did not institute candle-lighting as a commemoration of the miracle of the cruse of oil.[3] All this strengthens the hypothesis I raised above in explaining Maimonides’ wording, that candle-lighting was not included in the original enactment of the Hasmonean house.
However, in Megillat Antiochus we find:
Therefore the Hasmoneans ordained and established, and allocated an issar, and the children of Israel together with them, as one, to observe these eight days as days of feasting and joy, like the festivals written in the Torah, and to light lamps on them to make known the victories that the God of heaven wrought for them.
This implies that candle-lighting was indeed part of the original enactment of the Hasmoneans.
It is possible that the Hasmoneans themselves already instituted the lighting of candles, but the enhanced practice and the details of the law were instituted later. See also Moadim U'Zmanim by R. Sternbuch, vol. 2, where he is uncertain whether the enactment that each person light at the entrance of the house is not from the Hasmonean house; and see there his proofs and the difficulties he himself raises against his own position. According to our approach here, only the enhanced practice is a later enactment.
In any event, if the enhanced practice is indeed a later enactment, one can understand how Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai could disagree about it. They are not really disputing what the historical enactment was; rather, they are coming now to institute the enhanced practice, and so it is no wonder that they can disagree about how it is better to do so.
And returning to our matter, here we have an example of how an early enactment that was quite similar to the Christmas tree—that is, it established something general whose main element was a festive custom to recall a miracle, and perhaps also to light a candle (one per household)—became already in the days of the Tannaim a halakhic topic with details, disputes, and different approaches. It is no wonder that over the years and generations it became tangled and branched out into ever finer details, as described above. Thus the Hanukkah "Tractate of the Tree" was created, and perhaps there is something to the feelings I described above. The matter still requires further thought.
[1] There is broad discussion in the study hall and beyond as to how long the two schools lasted. Some wanted to say that since the heavenly voice declaring the law in accordance with Beit Hillel emerged at Yavneh, the two schools must also have existed until then, but this is not necessary. See Dorot HaRishonim, vol. 2, p. 294, who brought much evidence that the principal disputes between the two schools were in the time of Hillel and Shammai themselves, and what survived until the Yavneh period were only those who followed in their path.
[2] And in the book Hasdei Avot, printed at the end of Yakhin Da'at, sec. 17, it is written that the enactment of the lamp was after the Destruction. So too R. Yehudah Gershuni brought this in Or HaMizrach 22, issues 79–80, p. 43. See also the book Beino Shnot Dor VaDor by R. N.D. Rabinovitch, who argued extensively against their words. His objections are resolved according to what we have said here, namely that the enactment was while the Temple still stood, but later than the Hasmonean period. And indeed Maimonides himself in Sefer HaMitzvot Principle 1 explicitly wrote that the Hanukkah lamp was instituted while the Temple still stood.
[3] And see Maharatz Chayot to Shabbat 21b, who cites Pesikta Rabbati that the enactment of the eight days is not because of the miracle of the cruse of oil but because of the eight spits they found.
Discussion
You didn’t mention in your remarks an early source on the matter, namely Megillat Ta’anit.
Vered Noam discusses it and the other sources in an article in the journal Zion, vol. 67, and reached conclusions that support your hypothesis.
Thank you very much. You’re as quick as ever. 🙂
To my shame, I’m not familiar with the research literature.
In my remarks I distinguished between other areas of halakhah where this feeling is less strong for me (though it sometimes exists) and the lighting of Hanukkah candles. Here my feeling is that we are dealing with a kind of Christmas tree that has turned into Tractate Tree. They quote statements and conjectures by various people and then pilpul over each one, when none of them is really authoritative or binding. Just do what seems right to you, and that’s it. Indeed, I’m familiar with the assumption that every direction of lighting shakes the very thresholds of eternity in Netzach shebe-Hod, but as you can understand from my words, I harbor some skepticism regarding that assumption.
Check almost any halakhic discussion you like in the laws of candle-lighting, and in almost all of them you’ll see that every side can be reconciled with the authoritative sources (the Talmud). So what is the whole discussion for? This one says thus and that one says thus, and I say thus and thus and thus. Do what you think, and that’s it, without quoting the initial assumption in the view of the questioner in Responsa Tzintzenet Ha-man, first edition (who retracted in the second edition).
The feeling is that what people do consciously on Purim (Purim Torahs) they do on Hanukkah with abyssal seriousness.
I can’t resist, but like Cato the Elder (“Carthage is guilty in everything”), this reminds me a bit of many areas in the humanities (and in particular: the nonsense), where a subject is born out of So-and-so’s conjecture, and now Another-so-and-so comes and explains that So-and-so is not like Such-and-such, and the practical difference between them is X or Y, and then the son of So-and-so comes and pilpuls over the view of Such-and-such and his father So-and-so, and thus a topic is created ex nihilo, when all of it is nothing but mere empty verbiage.
Surely you won’t be surprised that I really can’t refrain from mentioning specifically the field of gender, where a certain scholar advocates position X, and opposite her another scholar stands and sharply disagrees (usually one master says one thing and another says another thing, and there is no real disagreement, except for empty verbiage). Then a doctoral student comes and brings proofs for the words of Ms. So-and-so from the approach of some Susan, while that Margaret there vigorously supports the view of Ms. So-and-so, and the (illusory) controversy rages with full force, when the only practical difference is for the forests of Brazil that are being destroyed in order to feed the printing press and harm the ozone layer (and of course to support the livelihoods of all these Susans and Margarets).
I wouldn’t compare the reasoning of one of the greatest decisors to the reasoning of some ordinary person. Very often, a piece of reasoning does not stand on its own, but relies on sources or grows out of them. Someone who lacks the necessary knowledge and experience will, in all likelihood, have reasoning that is less correct than that of an experienced posek. Even in academia it is customary to deal more with the theories (= reasonings) of experienced people and experts.e
“And the Rosh cited in the name of Rav Hai Gaon at the end of tractate Rosh Hashanah that these are not full-fledged doubts, for by Torah law all of them are teru’ot: both the shevarim, the teru’ah, and both together. Rather, because some of Israel used to do the shevarim, and some used to do the teru’ah, and some used to do both together, and it was not fitting in our eyes that in a mitzvah fixed for generations these should do thus and those should do thus, therefore Rabbi Abbahu enacted that all Israel should follow one custom equally.”
After all, the whole essence of Hanukkah was instituted because of the failure of anti-religious coercion that prevented the Jews from following the tradition of their fathers – and therefore the essence of the festival is to grant Christians the freedom to practice their religion and set up a Christmas tree. It is even appropriate to protest the arrest of MK Ghattas, whose only sin was that he acted according to the commandments of his religion and fulfilled the mitzvah of jihad properly!
Regards, the cantor, a Hasid of the High Court. Libelinger-Naor
With God’s help, 27 Kislev 5777
Idolatry worships the power in nature. By placing a Christmas tree in the house, one turns the house into a kind of forest;
By contrast, the candle is wholly stamped with the mark of human smallness. The light of the candle is weak. Its full expression comes only within the home. There its little light spreads peace and joy.
The candle set at the doorway cannot illuminate the darkness outside, but it declares outwardly: there is a home here, a home wide open, a home that is the complete opposite of the wild “primeval forest” in the competitive “marketplace,” and it invites the people of the world to come into the home, to absorb its warmth and pleasantness, and by them illuminate the atmosphere of the marketplace!
With blessings for a happy Hanukkah, S. Z. Levinger
Well, well—if this is by way of seriousness, who needs mockery…
With God’s help, third candle of Hanukkah 5777
But Hanukkah contains a novelty: there is halakhic discussion even about enhancement. What is “mehadrin” and what is “mehadrin min ha-mehadrin,” and over this Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel dispute whether one should “decrease and go” or “increase and go.” In general, the whole Hanukkah miracle occurred for the sake of “beautifying the mitzvah,” for strictly speaking “impurity is permitted in the community,” and it would have been possible to light with impure oil.
Perhaps this too is the difference between the atmosphere of the marketplace and the atmosphere of the home. In the marketplace there is no honor and splendor; on the contrary, there is wild competition. The only thing that prevents the marketplace from turning into a jungle is law, which limits the competition. Naturally, the man of the marketplace will be punctilious down to the last point of the law, but not one millimeter beyond it.
By contrast, in the home the world of beauty reigns. Parents give themselves over for their children beyond and above the call of duty; children aspire to bring contentment to their parents. Husband and wife esteem one another “more than their own bodies,” and together they honor the elderly and the guest, whose reception is like receiving the Divine Presence.
On Hanukkah, the home radiates outward: the world of beauty upon the world of dry law.
Regards, S. Z. Levinger
Shalom to Rabbi Michi
I think one must (you too) reconsider the whole world of halakhah as we have it. The issue is not only Hanukkah. You surely know the theory of the standardization of halakhah. See Yitzhak Gilat’s book The Development of Halakhah. Almost every halakhah, whether its source is biblical, rabbinic enactment, or custom, has undergone many transformations. It has passed, and still passes, through legal-halakhic tools. That is the reality of any halakhah whatsoever. That is how the world works in every field; someone here already wrote that these are the limitations of written language. You write or state a halakhah, and reality raises countless “new realities” for which we need to find legal anchoring. In my opinion, you rightly said that most of these things should have been decided by a person on his own understanding. But apparently, since the printing revolution, most human beings want to leave something written after they merge with nature. And thus hundreds upon hundreds of pilpulim were born. Of course, this does not skip any other field. For example: the legal world is saturated with endless hairsplitting over all sorts of laws, amended statutes, and impracticable theories; multiply this, of course, by all the legal systems in the world, and go back in time. You will be appalled by the amount of verbiage humanity can produce about nothing.
The question that arises, then, is: what is Torah? In every halakhic field it is like this. The decisors develop and establish halakhah in clear standards. Every generation and its innovations. (And everything is built on previous generations, layer upon layer.) So what really is Torah? A few isolated halakhot of which we have no full understanding? By the way, what is the importance that Hazal and even the Bible saw in Torah study?
Another question: if regarding Hanukkah candles we say that the act of the miracle is only a myth, and this became fixed in Israel’s consciousness as one of the principles of faith, how can we know that this did not happen with many of the biblical stories, and perhaps even with the revelation at Mount Sinai? Do we have any way or indications to distinguish between them? And the time of the Hasmoneans is far closer to us than the giving of the Torah and the biblical narratives. And likewise in the world of halakhah, should we not fear that the “majority” of the halakhot in our possession are nothing but pilpulim about halakhot that never were?
I would be glad of a response.
The reasoning of Beit Shammai, “corresponding to the bulls of the festival,” recalls the reason given in the Book of Maccabees for Hanukkah—that it was in place of Sukkot, which they had been unable to celebrate as long as the Temple was ruled by foreigners—whereas according to Beit Hillel one follows the rule “we ascend in holiness and do not descend.”
According to Beit Shammai, on Hanukkah one yearns nostalgically for a glorious past, recalling on Hanukkah the splendid days of Sukkot when the Temple was dedicated in Solomon’s time, and the Sukkot celebrated in the days of Ezra and Nehemiah with the renewal of the covenant between God and Israel.
By contrast, Beit Hillel emphasize “the half-full cup”: the actual step-by-step progress toward future perfection.
Regards, S. Z. Levinger
I too wouldn’t compare. Therefore it certainly makes sense to ask a posek what his opinion is on these questions. But lectures and pilpulim on the various approaches, when the whole matter is usually just reasonings this way and that, generally seem pointless to me.
This is from the law of the Gemara itself, and therefore I distinguished between the words of decisors and authoritative sources. In your opinion, do these discussions really unify custom in Israel? On the contrary, they create great variation according to the different approaches. So even the desire to create a uniform custom (which in my eyes does not necessarily have great value) gains nothing from them.
Even if all this is Torah, that still doesn’t mean there is value in engaging in it. Let each person establish his own way, and all will be called in the name of Torah.
Torah is what we received at Sinai and the various interpretations. Conjectures that establish new halakhot are at most Torah in the gavra—that is, they have the value of Torah for whoever finds meaning in them.
The importance of Torah study is not connected to this. It is certainly very important, but the importance exists when one studies the Torah, not when one deals with all kinds of proposals one way or another.
The miracle of the cruse of oil is not one of the principles of faith. Let’s not get carried away. It is a myth that may be a historical fact and may also not be. It is not all that important. Rambam already, in his introduction to the Mishnah, distinguishes between three groups in their attitude to the aggadot of Hazal.
As for the world of halakhah, in my remarks I distinguished between authoritative sources and those that are not. Clarifying the words of the Gemara and its interpretations is Torah in the object-sense, since we are dealing with an authoritative and binding source.
A midrash of “Al Ha-nissim” by the Academic Savior
The Rabbis taught.
Who can recount the mighty acts of Michael
who with an abundance of words
ritually slaughters every sacred cow, even a red one,
for what are we—if not next to nothing?
No doubt, such a physicist rabbi must have courage,
for he, our master, taught us that God does indeed play dice,
even in his heresy against Albert Einstein.
It is to his credit that he does not hesitate.
And indeed—
as it were
What is he saying?
Without hesitation from the keyboard, let it be said—
in his writing he himself engages in pilpul,
without, perhaps yes, becoming confused.
I might have thought
that there is substance and practical consequence in them?
It comes to teach us: where to?
and the shame—where shall we carry it?
What are the circumstances?
This entire industry of making many books
of rishonim and aharonim and responsa by this or that great rabbi in abundance—
is, in sum, in two words: occupational therapy. And enough said.
For our Sages said in Avot: Torah together with a worldly occupation causes sin to be forgotten.
But they also said, apologetically: expound in order to receive reward,
and to magnify Torah and make it glorious, today and tomorrow as well.
And perhaps it was all allegory,
for a hand is on the throne of Yah.
But perhaps the whole Torah in fact did not descend from heaven, heaven help us,
and everything is the fruit of pilpulim about an ox that gored, laws of purity and leprosy, and excisions, God forbid…
And Torah law and rabbinic law, and the discussions of Abaye and Rava, and Rambam and Rif, and Rashi and the like—
are pilpulim of wood, straw, and stubble, and even the thirteen hermeneutical principles by which the Torah is expounded.
And then not only Hanukkah and Purim are absurd in and of themselves,
but also the festivals and sabbatical years and jubilees—not this and not even part of this.
And what of the prophets, the tannaim and amoraim, the savoraim and geonim?
This thought alone causes me to fall into a half-sleep.
And the Christmas tree, planted by streams of Jewish blood (spilled by our Christian brothers, may their names be blotted out), was pleasing to the sight,
and the Holy One, blessed be He—may He show us the way,
for we learned by verbal analogy tree-tree, man from the mouth of man, back to Moses our teacher,
from the tree of knowledge and the tree of life in the Garden of Eden, from which we were expelled,
to the asherah trees and the fir tree,
for someone already said: “I will go out to the field to meditate.”
So although you hate postmodernism, may the Merciful save us,
still, whenever I read each and every one of your posts and sites, my prayer to the merciful God is
that your keyboard should never cease forever and ever,
for I am faithful to your words as a witness.
And I greatly rejoice, my heart exulting,
at every post of yours that appears.
…So may you stay healthy,
for certainty and health are better than uncertainty,
and kol hakavod for granting us, Michi,
in these days of the Hanukkah myth,
with a smile.
The A.S. [the Academic Savior hamoshia@gmail.com]
Many thanks to our master the Savior,
whose hands are masterful in every weaving of flowing verse and cry.
A fitting Torah he weaves with might,
rhymes and sayings, stringing one to another.
In honor of the Torah and its Creator, its radiance and splendor,
he wrote and adorned a crown for King Solomon.
And I too, the small one, have been pleased, tiny though I am, to grow and flourish,
at my words that shatter rocks and slaughter cows.
Are not my words like fire, and like the fir tree,
its stature rises and does not bow.
A mezuzah on the right and its light on the left,
who will grant me passage between Tzorah and Eshtaol?
Indeed, Torah is more precious in my eyes than pearls,
but out of the greatness of my love I grew jealous to cleanse it of a se’ah of dross and vermin.
May the Christianized treasure be for us dew of life,
and may we merit your words for many long years.
And as for the substance of the matter?
Why believe?
Why be a sectarian?
As a datheist and a man of “perhaps,”
I know nothing of who and what and why.
Your firm faith, your own, Abraham Eitan—
its compromise—I do not understand.
As the ancients and the physicists said—all is water,
both the dew and the emptiness of the heavens.
And we, the small among the thousands of Manasseh, still search
after Genesis, the Big Bang, and string theory.
And after everything, and after reading all your books and posts—may they increase—
I was left with half my desire in my hand and only with the commandment to be fruitful and multiply.
I did not understand the sense of the master’s wonderment,
let us hold fast to a craftsman’s faith and say Amen.
Half of the master’s desire is for me a whole loaf,
“He created it not a waste; He formed it to be inhabited”—until we return to dust.
So what?! I am astonished—
it’s all “nonsense,” in your words, come what may,
including what was said (Babylonian Talmud, Berakhot): “Their names are beautiful and their deeds are beautiful—these are the tribes: Reuben, ‘See, a son,’ among the sons.” Rashi adds on “and she called his name Reuben”—our Rabbis explained: Leah said, “See the difference between my son and my father-in-law’s son (Esau), who sold the birthright to Jacob, while this one (Reuben) did not sell it to Joseph and did not protest him; and more than that, not only did he not protest him, but he sought to rescue him from the pit.”
And more, while awaiting salvation—
I do not gather.
Your wonderments have left me wondering, and I shall be silent.
Rabbi Michi, may he live long,
here at Bar-Ilan and not in Lithuania,
didn’t blink twice,
indeed, a fellow with courage,
voicing unconventional views
and teaching women too.
He goes to and from Yeruham and the Midrasha,
for a hand is on the throne of Yah.
A man of the covenant and a young Torah scholar,
a physicist and Torah scholar, but not a great halakhic authority.
Forgive my flattering words,
but his words are like flour sifted through a sieve.
And apropos a heavenly voice (a voice among the willows’ daughter),
they deal in the discussions of Abaye and Rava.
A new phenomenon: female doctoral students in Talmud
…The kerchief covering her head does not conceal Anat’s beauty. She is a young mother who devotes her time to preparing a doctorate in Talmud. Beside her sits Liran, an attractive secular young woman whose soul yearned for Torah, and she is working on a thesis in Talmud. Also at the advanced institute at Bar-Ilan,
these women have come a long way since it was said that “women are light-minded” and that “whoever teaches his daughter Torah is as if he taught her frivolity.” Ben Azzai is invited to the institute to feast his eyes on the students—and perhaps he would have broken his vow not to marry.
Clearly, the model here is Beruriah, the wife of Rabbi Meir, who taught her husband, the great Torah scholar, quite a few things and did not content herself with preparing cholent and raising children.
Now it is established: the Talmud department at Bar-Ilan is the leading one in Israel and in the world in the scope of academic research, and it draws with it female students and Haredi yeshiva students alike. The advanced institute follows vigorously in its wake.
In days when people complain about the decline of the humanities and the rush of students toward career fields such as business administration and law—it turns out that dozens of M.A. students and doctoral students—secular and religious alike—engage in pilpul over the discussions of Abaye and Rava, deal with textual versions from Mishnaic times or with the Dead Sea Scrolls. Therefore, it is impossible to take this away from them. There are fascinating lecturers there (not all of them), and one Professor Hananel Mack is enough to make Torah study beloved, and Professor David Halivni, Israel Prize laureate in Talmud, is enough to connect one to an ox that gored and above all to receive a broad outlook of historiosophy, philosophy, Bible, and medieval literature.
…And its price is far above pearls
Percentiles of trembling and astonishment following the wonderment—
The Torah of the Lord is perfect.
And indeed, “nothing is finer than silence,” said Rabbi Simlai,
but were it not for the delights of your Torah, alas,
where would I go?
and I am wholly in it.
I wanted to end here, but it is important to note that I do not know the source of the passage brought here (though I found it on Google, I do not know its original source), and it is important to note that it deals with the Department of Talmud.
In the quotation in your words, a few changes were inserted, and thus a confusion was created between the Department of Talmud and the Advanced Institute and the beit midrash for female doctoral students—and these are not to be conflated. They dig in archaeology and textual witnesses of sugyot, while we invoke the name of God. They write dissertations in Talmud, and we write and belong to all the university departments. And so on.
With God’s help, 28 Kislev 5777
To Uzi – many greetings,,
The fir tree is an ancient pagan symbol (see Wikipedia, entry “Christmas tree”). The evergreen conifer symbolized the idol Bacchus. The Christians dressed it onto their savior, who in their view is also an immortal son of God who was crucified and rose again.
“Christmas” too is originally the Saturnalia and the Kalends, in which the ancient Romans celebrated the “birth of the sun” – the shortest day of the year, from which the day begins to lengthen.
In contrast to the pagan religions that worship the power in nature – Judaism celebrates its festivals according to the “lesser luminary,” corresponding, in the words of the midrash, to “Jacob the younger.”
Even in the national festivals, domesticity is emphasized. On the national “Festival of Freedom,” the whole people gathers to offer the Passover sacrifice together, but its eating, together with the recounting of the Exodus, is done דווקא in registered groups, and it is forbidden to take the Passover offering from one group to another. Whereas the Greeks celebrated with processions of revelers (“epikomion”) going from house to house – the Sages instructed not to hold such processions, but rather to preserve the atmosphere of joy within the framework of the group.
Likewise, the victory over the Greeks was not celebrated with military parades and with voices and torches, but with “a candle for each man and his household,” by strengthening family cohesion from which the light would radiate outward. Just as in those days one united family—father and his five sons—succeeded in breathing life into an entire people and toppling the ruling empire.
Regards, S. Z. Levinger
The passage about the daughters of Talmud—I wrote it with my own quill, and it was not published, not even for publicizing the miracle.
According to my textual witness (God save us), originally this was written in the context of the Talmud department; I tried to compliment your classes for the doctoral women who study Gemara at the institute.
And I now see, to my distress, that this is not correct.
The main thing is that toward God I try to be prepared.
Strength to your Torah work
(-) The Academic Savior
Was the compliment not correct, or was the identification not correct? 🙂
With God’s help, 28 Kislev 5777
To Rmda – many greetings,
Indeed, the Torah has two mitzvot connected with trees: the mitzvah to sit in the shade of a sukkah made from “waste from threshing floor and winepress,” and the mitzvah to rejoice before the Lord with the fruit of a beautiful tree, palm branches, boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook. An entire tractate, Tractate Sukkah, of five chapters and more than fifty pages, is devoted to these mitzvot, discussing in detail and sub-detail the parameters of these commandments.
Already in the time of Hazal, Saul of Tarsus and his disciples objected to the “excessive punctiliousness” of the “Pharisees,” who descend to tiny details, and thought that everything could be based on general values.
But that is not the way of the Torah. Contrary to the “complaint of the sectarians,” according to which the general principles of the Ten Commandments are enough—the Torah attached to the Ten Commandments a long series of detailed ordinances and descended to the fine details of damages of an ox and a pit, an unpaid bailee and a paid bailee, Sabbaths and festivals, sabbatical years and gifts to the poor. Even to “You shall not covet,” which concludes the Commandments, the Torah set up a fence by commanding, “You shall not boil a kid in its mother’s milk,” corresponding to “You shall not covet” at the close of the “Book of the Covenant.”
The powerful revelation at Mount Sinai begins with “set bounds for the people and sanctify them.” One draws near to God through meticulous preparation, waiting three days, and caution lest they break through toward the holy. So too in the Tabernacle, the continual continuation of Mount Sinai,, there are precise definitions—what are the dimensions of the Tabernacle and its vessels? What shall the priests wear? What are the orders of the service? Even to Aaron’s sons who changed things out of enthusiasm—God showed no favor. By contrast, Aaron merited praise because he “did not deviate.”
The servant of God stands all his life before his God like a minister serving in the palace of the King, meticulous that all his deeds be for the King’s pleasure and honor. He arranges and prepares the Hanukkah lights “according to all their ordinances and laws,” recalls the wonders of the past, and awaits the future day when it will be fulfilled: “There I will cause a horn to spring forth for David; I have prepared a lamp for My anointed.”..
Regards, S. Z. Levinger
I already explained here that I am not challenging halakhic involvement in details as such, but rather an incorrect application of it. In areas of civil law and in most halakhot there is definitely room for engaging in details, and I do so myself. But in Hanukkah (and not only there) the feeling is that the details are invented and based on one or another conjecture of decisors without any real basis. Therefore, leave Saul of Tarsus and so on out of it here.
Beyond that, ad hominem has never been dear to me. If Saul of Tarsus is right—I have no problem being in his party. The fact that he said something does not invalidate it. In an argument, one should raise substantive claims.
With God’s help, 29 Kislev 5777
To Rmda – many greetings,
Since your honor accepts the principle that halakhah descends to details, then in the laws of Hanukkah too it stands to reason that the Sages were punctilious about details and “instituted it in a manner analogous to Torah law”—and the details of the halakhot need clarification.
In our generation, several renewed questions have arisen because of changes in reality and living conditions. For example:
If in the days of Hazal “darkness covered the earth” and shortly after sunset “the foot ceased from the marketplace,” nowadays when there is street lighting and “night shines like day, darkness like light,” one must discuss whether the time of lighting expands or whether the enactment still stands as it was; in the days of Hazal people did not travel from place to place at night, and it was clear that wherever a person was near sunset was where he would remain all night—today it is common for a person to be in one place at the beginning of the night and travel to sleep in another place;
If in the days of Hazal most dwellings were on the first and second floors—today multi-story buildings are common, and a question arises for someone whose apartment is more than twenty cubits above the street: should he light in the window visible to the residents of the high floors in the building opposite, or at the apartment entrance to the stairwell, which today parallels an alleyway, or perhaps the stairwell is considered a courtyard and one should light at the entrance to the building. And other such questions.
As is the way of Torah, the decisors discuss new questions by the force of reason and by “comparing one matter to another,” to halakhic principles established explicitly or implicitly in the words of the earlier authorities—Hazal, rishonim, and aharonim. And the reasoning of a posek who is an outstanding Torah scholar, expert in all the sources of halakhah and able to analyze them and derive guiding principles from them—carries great weight.
Even for the general public there is special importance in knowing the different approaches and reasonings said in the sugya. Beyond the mitzvah of Torah study, which obligates not only knowledge of the “Mishnah,” the practical halakhah, but also knowledge of the “Talmud,” the system of reasons and considerations underlying the halakhah—in our generation there are no “simple people”; we are all wise and understanding and full of healthy curiosity, and desire to be “masters of Talmud” who understand “what and why.” Certainly it is proper to spread before them the whole canvas in its completeness, with all the forty-nine aspects this way and that.
Such was the way of Beit Hillel, who put the words of Beit Shammai before their own. And according to the explanation of the Hatam Sofer, this was not merely a gesture of courtesy, but stemmed from a genuine desire to understand the opinion of those who disagreed with them and their reasoning, and if necessary to retract. This way led to halakhah being decided like Beit Hillel, because the public understood that their decision had taken into account the entire system of considerations. (I referred to the words of the Hatam Sofer in my comment, “Et Vahev Besufah – A Bit on the Culture of Disagreement in Judaism,” on Leon Wieseltier’s article “A Polemical Jew,” on the site “Shabbat Supplement – Makor Rishon”).
The aspiration to understand the system of considerations of one’s disputant educates both us and our students toward a culture of disagreement different from what is unfortunately common in the media today. Instead of trying to make the words of one’s opponent look ridiculous, and to find negative intentions in him, or to see in his words stupidity and nonsense—we aspire to find the point of truth in his words and to define in a focused way the points of disagreement between us, so that even if we do not reach agreement, there will nevertheless be understanding and appreciation between us.
Regards, S. Z. Levinger :
Happy Hanukkah
I saw the comedian’s bit about the Christmas tree—it was indeed amusing—but I just wanted to note that Rav Soloveitchik preceded him on this point. He expressed himself to the effect that if we had a Christmas tree, there would be entire sections in the Shulchan Arukh with precise parameters regarding how to set it up, etc. etc.
Rav Soloveitchik did not say this as a joke, but as a positive statement: the beauty of halakhah, in contrast to Christianity, which speaks about lofty principles but does not descend to details, is that halakhah not only speaks in lofty terms but addresses the minutest details that build the great ideas.
Beyond that, what one of the commenters here said is correct: there is a difference between a rabbinic enactment that is fully halakhic, like Hanukkah candles, and things that are customs and folklore—not for nothing were no pamphlets and halakhic books written on “the laws of Lag BaOmer bonfires.”
I completely agree that descending to details is part of the beauty of halakhah. But the question is how far to take it. One should descend to details as a clarification of the matter, but there are details that clarify inventions with no basis.
My claim is that even on the halakhic plane there are such things (and therefore there are no books about Lag BaOmer bonfires, but there are about candle-lighting, although when you think about it, it is actually fairly similar overall, because here too there is no halakhic “substance”).
I have already answered this here several times. I understand all this very well, and still I do not see room for the discussions that are held about it. This one says thus, and that one says thus, and there is no proof either way. Therefore, in my humble opinion, there is mostly much ado about a non-sugya.
Doughnut, menorah, pagan-iah – dear and sweet to me.
And let the pagans have no hope.
Let the sages and rabbis who all know the Torah teach us:
what distinguishes you-us, who are punctilious about the ritual of the candles—from paganism? [Ah, aside from monotheism, which is like a fig leaf—so that they should not be ashamed.]
Michi, as an open-minded person who voices a brave and different opinion—surely (with God’s help) you won’t censor this.
And let this be a challenge to your responsa and your whips.
I’m not a mere troll—I really want to hear you, our brothers, the House of Israel.
With God’s help, sixth candle of Hanukkah 5777
Indeed, the victory of the Maccabees paved the way for the collapse of paganism in the world. In the Second Temple period (and even after its destruction, until the Bar Kokhba revolt), Judaism’s influence on the gentile surroundings reached its peak. Everywhere the nations saw a community gathering every Sabbath in its little sanctuary, without idols and statues, and whose life revolved around the Torah, its center of life—“a nation of philosophers,” some Greek sages defined the Jews.
Many gentiles hated and mocked, but many were interested and were captivated by the charm of Judaism. Some converted and became Jews in every respect, like Queen Helene and the convert Bluria, and many became “fearers of God,” sympathizers with Judaism who observed some of its commandments. Roman writers claim there was no house in Rome without someone drawing near to Judaism, and this was the reason for Hadrian’s decree against circumcision, which led to the Bar Kokhba revolt.
After the cruel suppression of the Bar Kokhba revolt, a barrier arose between the gentile world and the Jews, but the seeds of faith that the Jews had spread had already taken root in human consciousness. Although this sprouting was full of dross and denied its Jewish source, the ideas of monotheism, faith in the vision of the Torah and the prophets, and the idea of a weekly day of rest devoted to the service of God became enduring assets of humanity.
The fire of faith emerged from the little candle at the doorway of every Jewish home—it stirred the heart of humanity and gave the whole world a taste of the faith and values of Judaism!
With bright Hanukkah blessings, S. Z. Levinger
As a lover of challenges, I am still waiting for one. I haven’t yet seen one in your message.
As is known, a wise question is half an answer. The general and meaningless formulation you presented here does not meet that criterion, and is far from justifying the decisiveness with which you write. To my mind, it is like someone asking: let our rabbis (the whips and the responsa) teach us what is the difference between a cloud and a chair, or between mathematical research and shoemaking (after all, in both contexts there are people sitting and doing something). The fact that here too and there too certain things are being done says nothing whatsoever about the relationship between the contexts.
In short, one must know how to ask as well, if only in order to produce a real challenge. And I am perplexed, since I cannot fulfill even “you open for him.”
Regarding the miracle of the cruse of oil, whose near-total absence from sources other than the Gemara in Shabbat was mentioned here—from a class I heard from one of my rabbis in yeshiva on the subject, an interesting idea was said about it. The starting assumption in the class was, of course, that the miracle did indeed happen and take place, but that it was secondary and not central relative to the miracle of the victory; it was not prominent and was not something that could potentially become “the talk of the day” at the time. Hazal, seeing far ahead and wanting the days of Hanukkah to be preserved for generations, wanted in addition to saying Hallel and thanksgiving to have something concrete and ceremonial in every home, because they knew that only a real and ceremonial act could endure over the years in marking the days of the festival and remembering it. So they took the miracle of the cruse of oil out of the attic—a miracle whose existence they had received by tradition—and based the mitzvah of lighting the Hanukkah candle on it.
And the words ring very true—if not for the Hanukkah candles, who would remember and mark Hanukkah besides the spiritual elite, who are few? [Comparable to those rare individuals who mark Rosh Hodesh by wearing Shabbat clothes—and note this…]
“The people in the fields” know and mark Hanukkah not through deep and comprehensive knowledge of the Battle of Emmaus conducted by Judah the Maccabee, nor through saying Hallel and “Al Ha-nissim,” but through the lighting of the candles and all the customs that accompany it.
May you have a good month, a happy Hanukkah, and Shabbat shalom
…Wait, wait. I’m just coming back now from Jerusalem—many dozens of Jews, secular in their conduct, publicly desecrating Shabbat if not sleeping with menstruants during their wedding week, are crowding in masses into Me’ah She’arim, Nahlaot, and Sha’arei Hesed for “Hanukkiah tours.” Truly, the foot has not ceased from the marketplace until midnight in Jerusalem, the city thronged together. Truly Torah-publicizing of the highest order.
They have no idea (and perhaps no interest) about the disputes of Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai, for example, or “a candle for each man and his household,” and whether a woman or a minor can discharge them by lighting.
It is all just folklore that flattens the essence. It must be that Hazal too were postmodern (oops, I uttered the explicit Name). It’s nice (“A little candle burns for me and thrills a Jewish heart”), tasty (a doughnut rich in oil and poor in jam), and in Tamar’s kindergarten they do ceremonies and take selfies, and Jerusalem shall dwell forever from generation to generation.
So yes, there was probably a victory, which in the end led to the loss of the Hasmonean kingdom, almost just as the victory of the Six-Day War led to Arab children being burned by messianic youth.
All in all, it’s a “holiday” for children; even Sukkot is perceived as a holiday for children, despite being de’oraita.
And perhaps maybe all the miracles in the Bible are only inherited folklore for remembering historical events; and the Torah—which was written and edited “not in heaven”—sanctified them in order to embed them in the national collective memory.
So the people of Israel, like others, have skeletons in the closet.
“Who has chosen us,” in the final analysis, is one of them.
For the Chinese too, or whoever they are, claim that they are the chosen ones and that the navel of the world is rather in some cave in India over which stands a monastery or church where there was some birth from the holy spirit, or under an olive tree over which stands a hut or a sheikh’s tomb or a mosque. May Allah have mercy, Saint John Chrysostom crucify us, and one is our God.
Difficult indeed.
I really debated whether to respond to this comment—but in any case I won’t enter into a “monster-thread”; I’ll respond just once.
I didn’t mean in my remarks that Hazal wanted to create “nice folklore” and nothing more. On the contrary: in order that the days of Hanukkah would be remembered and marked for generations, they instituted an enactment that would stand the test of time, and like every enactment it is built from detailed rules. On the contrary, if it had not been built from detailed rules, it really could have become just a kind of custom and folklore and nothing more—and who knows how long that would have lasted. So yes, “the people in the fields” may not always include people who know the laws of lighting Hanukkah candles in depth, but the very fact that there are such laws, and that people are careful about them, causes the mitzvah to exist and become publicized.
Beyond that, when I spoke of “the people in the fields” I didn’t mean only those who are barely aware of halakhah or are ignoramuses, but also people who do know and are conversant to some degree or another, yet as “good householders” work for a living and are occupied with practical life. They are not really going to sit every evening in their homes and gather their family for a talk with a presentation on the battles of Judah the Maccabee and Hasmonean heroism, or for a deep lesson on the difference between Greek wisdom and our Torah, and the like. Such people, even if they say “Hallel” and “Al Ha-nissim,” will not truly feel these days [and their children all the more so will not feel them] without a concrete, ceremonial act that obligates them. And with all due respect to additions in prayer and Grace after Meals, clearly something ritualized creates much more “publicizing of the miracle.”
And just one note to the commenter—Rabbi Michael Abraham invests his time here and benefits the public by writing articles on the site and answering people’s questions with commendable dedication. It’s a shame that you spoil that by writing abusive comments in an unbusinesslike and cynical style that goes beyond the bounds of good taste.
I have not, of course, been appointed the rabbi’s spokesman; I wrote this out of my personal feelings. In any case, take these words to heart …….
“Do not be afraid of any man,” etc.
“One can distinguish between authoritative sources, like the Mishnah and the Talmuds, and decisors, important as they may be… When the whole discussion arises because of a statement by this or that posek, many times it seems to me that there is no point in such a discussion. But reasonings of decisors that establish a new law from reason, in my humble opinion, are worth the same as my own reasonings.”
— But Ramban’s words in Mishpat Ha-herem are well known, that ancestral acceptance is binding; and on that basis Rav Kook explained that the whole force of accepting the Talmud and the customs stems from the obligation to act according to the acceptance of the fathers and the people. Therefore, since the people of Israel accepted ruling according to the reasonings of the rishonim when their words are not contradicted by the Gemara, this binds us.
However, once we have reached the conclusion that the laws of nature preclude the possibility of divine intervention—then all the festivals are nullified, since all of them are based on the assumption that “there is a Master to the palace.” On the contrary, one should fast on Hanukkah because of the violence of the fanatic Maccabees who prevented us from reaching the enlightened conclusion of the Greek philosophers that everything is nature and “there is no divine intervention in the world whatsoever,” as the poet put it: “No miracle happened for us; we found no cruse of oil” 🙂 and we have no one to rely upon except the nature that has preserved us from old until this day!
Regards, Shatznimos the Levingerian, philosophus
Yosef,
Where there is agreement of all the rishonim, fine. But that almost never exists. And even when there is a contradiction from the Gemara, the assumption is that they knew it and interpreted it differently. So according to your approach, there is no room to disagree even there. Not to mention discussion of the words of contemporary decisors and the like (which characterizes quite a few of the discussions about Hanukkah).
S.Z.L.,
I no longer have the strength to repeat this again and again. Apparently there once was intervention, just as there once were open miracles and there were prophets. And besides, even today there is reason to give thanks for a “miracle,” since that is the opportunity (when we experience a “miracle”) to give thanks for nature to the One who created it.
With God’s help, 14 Tevet 5777
To Rmda – many greetings,
Even the “authoritative sources”—tannaim and amoraim, rishonim and aharonim—were in their time “contemporary decisors” who saw themselves as dwarfs in relation to their predecessors. Yet they did not nullify their own reasoning and intellect, but used their intellect to deepen their understanding of the written and transmitted Torah, and from this also innovated reasonings and halakhot and themselves became “authoritative sources.”
And as is known, Beit Hillel merited that halakhah be established in accordance with them because they put the words of Beit Shammai before their own. And the Hatam Sofer explained that this was not merely a gesture of courtesy, but rather that out of a search for truth they labored to understand the reasoning of their disputants, and did not dismiss with a “stalk of wheat” what did not seem right to them at first glance.
The striving to understand the reasoning of others is what causes the words of Torah to be like “well-driven nails,” standing like nails upon firm foundations, and on the other hand like planted trees that bear fruit and fruits of fruit!
Regards, S. Z. Levinger
And regarding the statement that if there is no prophecy and no open miracles, then there is no divine intervention—why, all the miracles of the Second Temple period are the antithesis of this view. When one examines what happened detail by detail, there is no deviation whatsoever from the laws of nature, but the course of events as a whole shows that “the end of the act was in the thought first.”
It is natural that Ahasuerus gets angry at Vashti the defiant and banishes her; natural that Esther finds favor and is chosen as queen, and that the king is not angry with her despite her disobedience; natural that Mordechai hears the plot of Bigthan and Teresh and his deed is recorded for remembrance; natural that Ahasuerus listens to his adviser and decrees destruction upon the Jews; natural that the king hears his queen’s pleas for her people; natural that the king’s sleep is disturbed and he reads the book of remembrances precisely on the night before Haman comes to request to kill Mordechai; natural that the king goes out in anger to the garden pavilion and naturally returns just as Haman falls upon Esther’s couch and suspects him…
Each event in itself does not depart from the laws of nature, just as had the opposite happened then too everything would have been perfectly natural. Perhaps there were Jews then too who claimed that everything was accidental, “the law of small numbers,” or something like that 🙂 The miracle was, among other things, that the Jews, with all their critical disposition, understood that behind the chain of “coincidences” there was a guiding divine hand!
Regards, S. Z. Levinger
S.Z.L., there is a logical fallacy in your argument.
If you want to prove that there are miracles, go to the Red Sea and the ten plagues. Why bring your bread from the miracles of Purim? Rather, apparently you wanted to prove that there are hidden miracles that one sometimes doesn’t see. That is, even a natural event can really be a hidden miracle. But even if I accept that the Purim miracle is a hidden miracle, in the absence of prophecy I have no indication that any given event is a miracle. Without a prophet I do not know how to distinguish such miracles (after all, they are hidden). So how will you know when something is a hidden miracle and when it is nature? How will you decide, for example, that the Yom Kippur War or the Six-Day War was a miracle? You have no indication at all. Unless you say that all nature is nothing but miracles (as Ramban says at the end of Parashat Bo). But then you have emptied this whole statement of content.
Even when it seems to you that it is a miracle, these are imaginations. It is so easy to mislead people with faulty reasoning. Therefore, the claim that there are hidden miracles is an unsupported assertion with no possibility of verification. It is identical to the assertion that mental phenomena emerge from the material whole (emergence). That is an assertion with no way to verify it, and it says nothing at all.
In short, tell me when you should thank the Holy One, blessed be He, for a miracle, and when it is simply the way of nature? I see only two possibilities: either always or never. I do not see any other line that distinguishes between a miraculous event and a natural event.
If you want to argue against me, you will have to provide criteria for how we know that a miracle is taking place before us and this is not nature (in the absence of a prophet).
With God’s help, 14 Tevet 5777
To Rmda – many greetings,
After God informed us in His Torah and through His prophets that all His ways are justice and His eyes watch over all deeds with individual providence (as Rambam noted in Guide of the Perplexed III:17)—then everything that happens to a person and to a people, whether when God changes the laws of nature, or when He intervenes by means of natural scenarios, or when He chooses not to intervene, everything is done in righteousness and justice, and we must thank God both for His rod and for His staff.
The practical difference is only when one suffices with the general thanksgiving “for Your miracles that are with us every day,” and when one recites the blessing “who performed a miracle for me” or says Hallel; and on this there are discussions and parameters in the words of the decisors. In any event, the Hallel and “Al Ha-nissim” on Hanukkah prove that one does not need a prophet in order to define a scenario as a miracle, and when one sees the wonder of the many delivered into the hands of the few and the mighty into the hands of the weak, and this involves the rescue of Israel from physical and spiritual danger—the whole people can gather and say: “This is a miracle”!
Regards, S. Z. Levinger
However, one can say that on Hanukkah there was also an open miracle, the miracle of the cruse of oil, which taught about the whole process and made it possible to say Hallel with a blessing and institute a festival. In any case, Meiri in Pesahim learned from the prophets’ institution to say Hallel for every distress from which one is saved, that any community that is saved can say Hallel.
Regards, S. Z. Levinger
As I wrote, He did not inform us through His prophets of any of this. Alternatively, He also informed us that there is prophecy, and today there is none.
Not for nothing did the Sages on Hanukkah innovate the miracle of the cruse of oil, which was an open miracle on which one can say “Al Ha-nissim.” Victory in war is not necessarily a miracle, and without a prophet there is no way to know whether there was a miracle here or not (unlike Purim, where there still were prophets). Therefore Hanukkah is evidence to the contrary.
And the fact that we give thanks for the victory on Hanukkah is not because of the miracle in that, but because it is an opportunity to give thanks for nature. And this is relevant to our own day as well.
As I have explained more than once, every divine intervention is a deviation from nature. Therefore, if there are “Your miracles that are with us every day,” then there is no nature (and therefore also no miracle). There is no intervention by way of nature. That expression is an expression devoid of logical meaning (nonsense, or an oxymoron).
The claim that the victory of the few over the many is by definition a miracle is absurd. Is it impossible for the few to win by natural means? It is possible. So how do you know that is not what happened here? Usually, when we are not dealing with the physics of a single particle but with large systems, the laws of nature do not give us tools to know what is supposed to happen. Therefore we use statistics to deal with such situations. But statistics by its very nature means that the rare case can also happen, only it will happen fewer times (or with lower probability). From this it follows that we have no way to know whether there was a miracle here or not.
To Rmda – many greetings,
1. The miracle of the “pakh” of oil: “Pakh” means a trap, a snare, as in “Shall a trap spring up from the ground unless it has caught something?” and “Thorns and snares are in the path of the crooked.”
2. In “Al Ha-nissim” the miracle of the cruse of oil is not mentioned, but rather the rescue of the few from the many, which led to the annulment of the decrees of persecution and the purification of the Temple. The miracle of the cruse of oil comes to explain why the thanksgiving is expressed by lighting a candle, something we do not find in the Torah festivals.
. I have already explained at length above the uniqueness of the miracles of the Second Temple period, in which the Holy One, blessed be He, intervenes also by means of natural scenarios. For it is natural that Ahasuerus kill his adviser because of his wife, but it is also natural that he kill his wife because of his adviser—and the Reader of the generations chooses the scenario He is interested in (just as you yourself explained that human choice is not opposed to the laws of nature).
Regards, S. Z. Levinger
As you explain in the last paragraph, even within the framework of the laws of nature there is room for different scenarios. If so, it is very understandable that the Holy One, blessed be He, as the Creator of nature, can deviate from nature, but can also act within nature and choose the desired scenario without deviating from the natural law that He established.
Regards, S. Z. Levinger
The comment “A Few Remarks” also belongs here; it was mistakenly posted above, before Yosef’s words
In paragraph 3, line 1:
I have already explained below (in my comment “Only once?”) the uniqueness of the miracles of the Second Temple period…
(Transfer of a comment by S.Z.L.)
To Rmda – many greetings,
1. The miracle of the “pakh” of oil: “Pakh” means a trap, a snare, as in “Shall a trap spring up from the ground unless it has caught something?” and “Thorns and snares are in the path of the crooked.”
2. In “Al Ha-nissim” the miracle of the cruse of oil is not mentioned, but rather the rescue of the few from the many, which led to the annulment of the decrees of persecution and the purification of the Temple. The miracle of the cruse of oil comes to explain why the thanksgiving is expressed by lighting a candle, something we do not find in the Torah festivals.
. I have already explained at length above the uniqueness of the miracles of the Second Temple period, in which the Holy One, blessed be He, intervenes also by means of natural scenarios. For it is natural that Ahasuerus kill his adviser because of his wife, but it is also natural that he kill his wife because of his adviser—and the Reader of the generations chooses the scenario He is interested in (just as you yourself explained that human choice is not opposed to the laws of nature).
Regards, S. Z. Levinger
1. Of course. Woe to the keyboard and woe to the typist.
2. Indeed. (Apparently I wasn’t focused that day.) The intention was to the sugya “What is Hanukkah?” and not to “Al Ha-nissim” (Shabbat 21b):
“What is Hanukkah? For our Rabbis taught: On the twenty-fifth of Kislev are the days of Hanukkah, eight in number, on which lamentation is forbidden and fasting is forbidden. For when the Greeks entered the Sanctuary they defiled all the oils in the Sanctuary, and when the Hasmonean kingdom prevailed and defeated them, they searched and found only one cruse of oil, which was lying with the seal of the High Priest; and there was only enough in it to light for one day. A miracle occurred with it, and they lit from it for eight days. The following year they established them and made them festivals with Hallel and thanksgiving.”
It is mentioned here that this is the miracle that was done for us (and not the military victory). Here it is also brought as the reason for the determination that one does not eulogize or fast on those days—that is, this is the miracle in whose memory the festival was instituted (and not only the candle-lighting).
3. Human choice is opposed to the laws of nature, but I have clear indications that it exists, and therefore I understand that nature operates according to the laws of science and human choice (this is a sum, not an identity). By contrast, for the existence of divine intervention there is no indication whatsoever. Therefore explanations about the character of the miracles of the Second Temple period will not help me. What is needed is proof, not explanation.
But even regarding the “explanation,” it must be noted: I have already explained that there is no such thing as intervention by means of natural scenarios. At most, something that appears to us (mistakenly) as natural scenarios. Intervention means that according to nature X should have happened, and God intervened and Y happened. If so, intervention by definition is the conduct of nature in a way that does not accord with the laws of nature.
The wondrous existence of the sheep among seventy wolves, and its return to its land after two thousand years of exile—is that not an “indication” of God’s providence even in a state of “hiding of the face”?
Regards,, S. Z. Levinger
Absolutely not. See my column on the law of small numbers and the wonders of statistical illusion in The Black Swan (by Nassim Taleb).
With God’s help, 15 Tevet 5777, on the alert birthday of the illustrious master of this precious inn
And to Rmda – many greetings,
And the whole wonder of the sheep’s survival among seventy wolves and its return to its land was foreseen long ago, both in the Torah’s promise: “Yet for all that, when they are in the land of their enemies, I will not reject them, neither will I abhor them, to destroy them utterly and break My covenant with them” (Leviticus 26:44), and in Ezekiel’s prophecy: “As a shepherd seeks out his flock on the day he is among his sheep that are scattered, so will I seek out My sheep, and I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a cloudy and dark day. And I will bring them out from the peoples and gather them from the countries and bring them to their own land, and I will feed them upon the mountains of Israel, by the watercourses, and in all the inhabited places of the country. In a good pasture will I feed them, and on the high mountains of Israel shall their fold be; there shall they lie in a good fold, and on rich pasture shall they feed upon the mountains of Israel. I Myself will feed My flock, and I Myself will cause them to lie down…” (34:12–15).
Even for vegetarians, our land has abundant grain, fruit, and vegetables, as in Ezekiel’s prophecy: “And I will call for the grain and increase it, and lay no famine upon you. And I will multiply the fruit of the tree and the produce of the field, so that you shall no more receive the reproach of famine among the nations” (36:29–30).
And to complete for Rmda three cycles, may he be honored with lights and with excellent words, and blessed with songs, that he may continue uprooting and grinding mountains, and delight in the finest swans, white as well as black, in the laws of numbers, small and great, until the eyes of the blind are opened, and the hearts of the closed are opened, until one hundred and twenty!
Regards, S. Z. Levinger
Many thanks to the well-wisher, and may the birds of the sky be for your eating.
From the lofty summit of his 57 years, he rises like a palm and grasps its fronds.
The vision of the prophets has already been printed in my fourth booklet, and there is in it proof for those who crown the sabbatical year.
Even if miracles are not something to which the eyes may cling, there is indeed character and beauty by whose light seekers of daily religion may rightly walk.
The treasured people is such in its values and culture; these contribute like a miracle to its endurance.
And if it is not a miracle, it is a decree that has gone forth from before the King; let the religious jesters and the spindle-holders accept it.
Between Tzorah and Eshtaol strides a mighty warrior; mighty men will not overcome him, nor Delilah either.
I said to myself, “A word for a sela, silence for two,” but silence in pairs—and I shall speak.
Ariel:
Hello Michi,
(Very belatedly) I read your piece about Hanukkah, the Christmas tree, the halakhic status of “da’at Torah,” and so on. I also read the responses to your words (including the poems). I enjoyed them very much.
But the main thing is that I was very glad to realize that I am not alone in thinking that there are definitely places (very many of them!) where it is incumbent (!) on every person to act according to his own understanding, without being considered as one who raises a hand against the Torah of Moses.
It is certainly true that we accepted upon ourselves a proper/written/binding system of regulations/laws/halakhot, and this can be challenged, and it can be amended, only in very, very special circumstances. Everything else is expressions of opinion, developments of reasoning, customs practiced by someone somewhere on the globe. It may be that that someone is a sage in Torah and halakhah, greatly expert, and so on, but in matters of reasoning—our strength nowadays does not necessarily fall short of his, and where there is hesitation we are allowed to decide for ourselves. Especially since circumstances have changed because of geography / technology / worldviews and so on.
Matters like these surround us throughout the whole day (!) in masses of events in which we are required to act according to this opinion or that, and each of the opinions has (of course!!!) support and some hold in the words of a sage or decisor or Torah giant, with his (logical) reasons alongside it. I encounter this day after day after day, and feel (more than once) like a total heretic (judging by the looks on the faces of those around me). So when I wash my hands before kiddush, and so when I bless over a cup of wine whose measure is X and not Y, and so when . . ..
Even when saying “Master of all worlds” after “Peace unto you, ministering angels” on Friday night before kiddush, there are those who think I am engaging in idolatry.
As much as I try to show my friends that even the greatest decisors disagree with one another, and that each of them has a logical, understandable, and plausible reason, the words fall on deaf ears.
In my opinion, this issue, which occupied an important place in your remarks, should receive expansion and elaboration, and above all publicity (with examples).
Be that as it may, I enjoyed it very much.
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The rabbi:
Rabbi A., many greetings.
First, I saw you today at the conference and did not have time to say hello (I had to run away). So I am making it up now. My apologies.
As for your remarks, one only has to be careful not to rely on an opinion just because it is convenient for me (“from the leniencies of this one and that one—he is wicked”). Of course, if this is your position, you should act and think that way, and if you have support, so much the better. But the order is: formulate your own position, and only then seek support—not seek support according to what is convenient. This is somewhat like what Rabbi Shabtai said today (according to Maharal), that “one who errs in judgment” means someone who goes against the halakhah current in the world (without it having actually been ruled in an authorized source, for then it is “one who errs in an explicit Mishnah”). But if that is truly how it appears to him (that is, even if people tell him that most decisors and opinions are against him, he remains of his view), then indeed he is not considered one who errs in an explicit Mishnah.
As you know, I write and lecture in several places about the duty of autonomy in halakhah (among other places, in a place close to the master himself). Indeed, it is important to clarify these matters. And it is no less important to sharpen that this does not mean everyone is right and that if there is some opinion like yours, then you are necessarily legitimate. I do not agree to such pluralism. And I have already explained in writing too the difference between tolerance and pluralism, and these matters are old.
With God’s help, 25 Adar 5781
In Herzl’s story “The Menorah” (on the Ben-Yehuda Project website), Herzl describes the artist who gradually draws closer to his Jewish tradition and lights the Hanukkah menorah with his children, whose form arouses thoughts in him: “When was the ancient form of this menorah created? Its form was apparently the form of a tree. The strong trunk in the middle, and four branches emerging from it to right and left.” And he dreams of building a menorah in the style of “a tree with long branches, and something like a cup for each branch at its end, and within the flower-cups a place for candles.”
The phenomenon noted by the author of the post, that the halakhot grow and develop and bear branches and fruits growing from one foundation, is described in the words of Hazal on the verse in Ecclesiastes: “The words of the wise are like goads, and like firmly planted nails.” On the one hand, the words of the wise are fixed and standing like nails; on the other hand, the root puts forth branches and fruits, all of them founded and detailed from the fixed and transmitted root.
Regards, Yaron Fishel Ordner
The difference between a Christmas tree and the mitzvot of Hanukkah is simple. A Christmas tree is a nice custom, parallel to decorating synagogues with plants in honor of Shavuot, where, as far as I know, there is no ramification of tedious laws and details.
With a mitzvah = a law, it is only natural that there be formal discussions about the way it is carried out.
In my opinion, the depth of the matter is that the prevalent conception is that the mitzvot are profound divine wisdom, and one must not relate to their rationale. And all their details and minutiae shake entire worlds somewhere in the heights of the galaxies. When that is the conception, it is no wonder we have rolled down to this point.
Although I must stress that even if we assume this is not so, any dry law is a broad field for hairsplitting and interpretation. That’s how it is. The limitations of language, and I won’t elaborate here.