Derush, Pilpul, Love of the Jewish People, and Segulat Yisrael (Column 52)
Judaism entered the media, but mostly in a sticky and shallow version
The essay opens by claiming that the media's attitude toward Judaism has changed: from erasure and exile to marginal corners to an open presence in magazines, on radio, and in popular culture. On the face of it this is good news, but in practice most of this presence presents a sticky, banal, or New Age Judaism, to the point of embarrassment before a secular audience. He therefore seriously raises the possibility that the older alienation was less harmful than today's shallow representation.
Why pilpul can sharpen thought while derush usually paralyzes it
He distinguishes between derush, as opposed to midrash, and pilpul. Pilpul is an inference that looks valid and reaches an absurd result, and therefore invites the listener to locate the point of failure, like a philosophical or mathematical paradox; precisely for that reason it has a sharpening and entertaining value. Derush, by contrast, usually begins with a verse or a midrash, passes through a weak question, and arrives at either a banal conclusion that was known in advance or a vague and empty one. In both cases there is no incentive to examine the reasoning, and so one does not answer derush: it puts critical thinking to sleep instead of awakening it.
From a radio dvar Torah to a new genre: both the reasoning and the conclusion are nonsense
The example that drives the rest of the discussion is a radio segment on Parashat Bo: the speaker inferred from Moses' provocation of Pharaoh that we must act forcefully in serving God, and immediately narrowed that mainly to love of Israel. When asked about the Amona evacuees, he argued that one must also love the policemen and soldiers who evacuated them, because their bad deeds do not express their Jewish essence but only external influences. The essay shows that the move from the biblical story to forcefulness in love of Israel is arbitrary, and that the conclusion itself is empty and confusing. So this is neither pilpul nor even classic derush, but an inferior genre in which both the reasoning and the conclusion are nonsense.
Why Jewish essence is not a reason to love a person despite his bad choices
From here the essay turns to the common claim itself, even without deciding the question of Amona. If a Jew acts wickedly, why should the fact that he was born with a good Jewish essence obligate love toward him? He reverses the logic: deeds and choices are precisely what ground judgment, because that is what a person is responsible for. Innate traits, however lofty, are not a moral achievement. Someone born elevated who chooses evil deserves, if anything, harsher judgment; someone born low who chooses good deserves love and esteem.
Natural family love is not value-based love, and one can both love and hate
To sharpen the point, the essay distinguishes between natural familial love and value-based love. A person may love his people or family simply by belonging, as a biological and emotional fact; there is no need to deny that, but it carries almost no moral value. According to his analysis of the commandments to love, a halakhic obligation addresses the intellect and deliberate action, not spontaneous feeling. Therefore one can certainly live with ambivalence: to love a Jew because of closeness and belonging, and at the same time to hate him for his evil deeds. What he regards as nonsense is the claim that segulah creates a duty to love and thereby cancels the legitimacy of moral hatred for deeds.
The diagnosis that the evil is external rests on an ungrounded assumption about Jewish nature
The essay also challenges the diagnosis itself, according to which a Jew's bad deeds are only external to him. How does one know that the act does not express his essence but only his impulse? Here the argument takes the form of a dilemma: if the inner good is an innate nature, it cannot serve as a basis for moral esteem; and if it is the result of choice, there is no basis for confidently declaring that the evil is only an external shell. Beyond that, in practice we approach a person's essence through his behavior, not through hidden knowledge about his soul.
Why Segulat Yisrael in its essentialist version rests on weak empirical and textual grounds
In the final part, the essay examines the concept of Segulat Yisrael itself. He defines its common version as combining two claims: Jews have a unique innate nature, and that nature is spiritually and morally better than that of others. He doubts this both empirically and textually: he does not see clear evidence around him of Jewish moral superiority, and in any case every people has traits formed by history, culture, and genetics without the need to attribute to them a supernatural essence. The sources are also not decisive: the Shulchan Arukh can be read as describing acquired culture, the Kuzari is a relative exception, and Maimonides likely disagreed. Since this is a thesis that cannot be falsified, it cannot be presented as a conclusion from observation; and even if some sages believed it, they have no special authority in matters of fact. The conclusion is that the common belief in Segulat Yisrael, at least in its essentialist version, rests on a shaky foundation.
With God’s help
Ever since I can remember, Judaism was effectively under boycott in our media. It was pushed into anachronistic and boring corners (like the sleep-inducing Saturday-night programs or “Verse of the Day”), and certainly had no presence in major programs. In recent years the media have become progressively less alienated from Judaism. Almost every respectable magazine (and on Fridays, the main news programs as well) devotes a slot to Judaism and words of Torah. Singers are openly returning to religious observance, without embarrassment, and bringing Judaism into their work—which also reaches prime media programming.
At first glance this is a welcome phenomenon. The problem is that almost every time I hear the words of Torah aired on these programs, my blood boils. At best these are banal and saccharine remarks; more commonly they are sheer foolishness. I have almost never heard an interesting or surprising idea there. Usually some Chabad or Breslov Hasid, some kabbalist or other, or just some New-Age “spiritual” type is rattling on with shallow and pathetic ideas, generally cloying and offensively conventional. I am genuinely ashamed and embarrassed by the thought that my secular friends imagine that the Judaism in which I believe is this stuff. It leads me to wonder whether the older state of alienation from Judaism was not, after all, preferable.
I should note that none of this prevents the host from marveling at the depth, complexity, and originality of the Torah and wisdom heard on his program. I do not know whether he is truly impressed—which does not reflect especially well on him—or whether this is simply commendable kindness and openness. I judge him favorably and think that perhaps he simply feels this is his duty to the public (that is, to the idiots who really do believe in the depth of these things and enjoy listening to them). Perhaps, in his generosity, he thinks it wrong to ignore the infantile segment of his audience. After all, they too are patients and they too deserve attention. I would like to believe the second possibility (Judge every person favorably.—judge everyone favorably), but unfortunately I get the impression that in most cases in fact the first is true.
Between derush and pilpul
It seems to me that most of these words of Torah fall into the category of derush (as distinct from midrash, which is an interpretive category based on the tools and rules of exegesis). To explain this, let me preface a brief account of the difference between derush and pilpul. In short: a derush is a correct conclusion based on a foolish inference, whereas a pilpul is a correct inference that leads to a foolish conclusion.
Pilpul is a kind of riddle, a Torah amusement. One presents you with an inference that seems completely valid, yet its conclusion is obviously false. The conclusion hints that one of the steps in the inference is mistaken, and you are asked to locate it. Here is an example of a one-step pilpul (there are astonishingly complex pilpulim, real works of art) that uses an a fortiori argument to obligate a doorpost in tassels: if a four-cornered garment, which is exempt from mezuzah, is obligated in tassels, then a doorpost, which is obligated in mezuzah, surely should be obligated in tassels?! Alternatively, a similar pilpul in reverse—”heavy and light”: if a four-cornered garment, which is obligated in tassels, is exempt from mezuzah, then a doorpost, which is exempt from tassels, surely should be exempt from mezuzah?! A pilpul crafted artfully (see, for example, Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschutz’s books on the Torah; they are veritable masterpieces of pilpul) is a fascinating riddle, because it calls on us to examine the inference and challenges us to find the error. This is similar to the role of paradox in philosophy, mathematics, and science. A paradox is an inference that seems correct on its face, but whose conclusion is obviously wrong. It too presents us with a riddle: to find and pinpoint the point of failure in the reasoning. Therefore pilpul, exactly like paradox, is certainly a worthwhile argument—or at least something entertaining and sharpening.
Derush, by contrast, is usually a vapid little Torah thought that insults the intelligence. Think of the derushim you occasionally hear (at sheva berakhot, a Torah talk in synagogue, a Sabbath handout, a talk by the yeshiva’s spiritual supervisor, and the like. Try to recall the ones during which you did not fall asleep, if any exist, and you will see that almost all of them are like this). They usually begin with some midrash or verse, pose some nonsensical or trivial difficulty about it, and arrive at a profound moral conclusion—for example, that everyone should be humble and punctilious in observing the commandments, should love his wife as himself and his friends as his own soul, and should set aside fixed times for Torah study, because it is our life and the length of our days. This is the genre of the banal conclusion. There is also another genre of derush whose conclusion says nothing at all. For example, a derush that ends with the far-reaching conclusion that the special quality of Israel is of the soul and not hyperbolic foreignness from the husk of Amalek. Since the conclusion of a derush is either banal and obvious or vague and rather empty, nobody feels the need to examine the inference critically. When the conclusion is obvious, the listener does not bother to inspect the inference that leads to it, because what difference does it make how they got there if the conclusion is clearly true?! Of this our sages already said Homiletic interpretations are not refuted. (one does not raise objections to a derush). It is not meant to withstand logical tests. And in the second case, when the conclusion is meaningless chatter, we attribute our lack of understanding to the depth of the concept and the limitations of the one trying to grasp it; here too there is no point in checking the reasoning and objecting to the derush.
Thus pilpul moves us to thought and analysis, and therein lies its value. Derush, by contrast, lulls us to sleep and emasculates the listeners’ thought and critical sense. In that respect, if the words of Torah on the radio were pilpulim, there would be something to enjoy and they might awaken thought. But in practice they are usually derushim. On secular stations they are generally derushim of the first kind (cloying and banal), while on religious and Haredi stations they can be of both kinds. Readers are invited to share with me a meaningful Torah thought they recently heard on the radio that provoked some sort of reflection (or rather, a Torah thought after which there was no need to wake them from their stupor).
Love of the Jewish People
The latest trauma of this sort befell me last Friday. Unfortunately I found myself in a problematic place (our kitchen), and there was a radio on there (I do not know on which station). Two hosts were amusing themselves with various inanities, and after a few minutes the Judaism segment began (naturally), conducted by some Chabad Hasid who had returned to religious observance (and who on the program had, of course, been elevated to the rank of “the honored rabbi”). The honored rabbi was dealing with the weekly Torah portion (Parashat Bo), and explained that Moses our teacher behaved with insolence and brazenness toward Pharaoh when he ordered Israel to take the god of Egypt (the lamb for the Passover sacrifice) and tie it to the bed, and then even inform Pharaoh openly before everyone that they were about to sacrifice it to God. From this he drew the far-reaching conclusion that all of us are obligated to act forcefully in the service of God (while ignoring, of course, all the sources that teach precisely the opposite). Immediately afterward he explained that our master, the “leader of our generation” (the hosts too, out of identification and enthusiasm, referred to the Lubavitcher Rebbe that way; after all, a radio broadcaster is duty-bound to get into the heads of the Indians when presenting programs for them), taught that such forcefulness is required above all in the matter of love of the Jewish people, which is the very essence of the whole Torah.
Hearing this, as I stood washing dishes in the aforementioned vale of tears, I thought perhaps I had lost the thread. How exactly had that creature moved from provoking Pharaoh to forceful love of the Jewish people? Why not conclude that one must be forceful about Grace after Meals, honoring parents, or redeeming a firstborn donkey? Alternatively, why not infer that we must provoke our tefillin when we put them on? Well, perhaps I nodded off for a minute or two (after all, when one hears things like that, it can happen even while washing dishes in the valley of the shadow of death) and missed the logic of the inference. But then I turned to pondering the conclusion itself, which I certainly had heard in full. What sort of forcefulness is required of me in the matter of love of the Jewish people? Should I vigorously beat anyone who does not love the Jewish people as himself? Or perhaps I should love the Jewish people as a whole and attack the individuals? Like that well-known rebbe who loved the Jewish people as a whole with enormous intensity, and out of so much love for the collective was slightly less successful with regard to the individuals. He and his Hasidim would vilify, attack, and act violently toward most of the individuals belonging to that collective they loved so dearly.
While still immersed in deep reflections on the first part of these sublime words of wisdom, I heard the hosts ask the honored rabbi how one can apply love of the Jewish people toward Jews who uproot other Jews from their homes (as you may recall, this was the week of the evacuation of Amona). The honored rabbi did not hesitate for a moment. He explained, with great forcefulness but in good taste and sound sense, that those doing the uprooting/evacuating act this way not because of the root of their souls. This is an aberration that does not testify to their Jewish essence. We must love Jews because of their essence, he instructed forcefully (though very pleasantly, graciously descending to the level of the masses), and ignore the aberrations that arise from impulse and external influences. To my delight I felt I was beginning to understand what forcefulness in love of the Jewish people means (as our sages taught us, Words of Torah are sparse in one place and rich in another.—the words of Torah are poor in one place and rich in another).
After I recovered and extricated myself from the cloud of wisdom and holiness that had enveloped me, I tried to diagnose whether what I had heard was derush or pilpul. Since by now we are all well equipped with the tools needed for this inquiry, I can share my conclusions with you. To the honored rabbi’s credit, his inference was utter nonsense, which prevents us from classifying his words as pilpul. Very well, then apparently we are dealing with derush. But on second thought the conclusion too seemed to me no less nonsensical (incidentally, it lies somewhere between the banal and the cloying on the one hand and sheer nonsense on the other—the two kinds of derush mentioned above. This teaches us that there is still room for innovation in the study of derushim). If so, it was not derush either. I arrived at a startling conclusion: before my astonished eyes a new Torah genre had come into being (or perhaps not so new)—a word of Torah in which both the inference and the conclusion are nonsense. Of this it is fitting to say: expound, and receive no reward (that really is Torah studied for its own sake).
Love of the Jewish People
The honored rabbi’s answer is actually a fairly common claim, so despite the supreme spiritual and intellectual depth it contains, I was not really surprised that he managed to pull it out so quickly. For the sake of discussion I will ignore the assumption that the soldiers who participated in the evacuation behaved wickedly, or that the evacuation itself was a wicked act. Let us assume for purposes of discussion that this is indeed the case. I wish to examine this trite statement, which all of you have surely already heard dozens of times: a Jew who behaves wickedly should be loved by virtue of his essence, while one should ignore his behavior, which stems from impulse and external influences.
I, being the wicked and rebellious contrarian that I am, would say precisely the opposite. The fact that someone was born such-and-such is no reason to love him. My relation to a person ought to be based on his choices, not on his inborn nature. A person is responsible for the choices he himself makes, not for the psychological structure with which he was born. In that he is not at fault, and therefore he bears no responsibility for it. So if someone was born a supreme saint, with special soulful luminosity from the highest radiance, but chooses to behave like the lower darkness of the husk of Amalek, am I supposed to love him for that? I would say the opposite: precisely someone born from the husk of Amalek who chooses to behave like a human being should be judged favorably and loved. But when someone chooses to do evil, the fact that he was born good is, if anything, a reason to judge him more harshly and hate him more. Why is the “Jewish essence” present in those “wicked” people an argument that is supposed to lead me to love them? And why am I supposed to ignore the way they actually chose to behave? (that is, to surrender to alien influences and impulses)
Between family love and ideological love
The love described in the honored rabbi’s words reminds me of family love. A person loves his relatives not because of good qualities they possess, but because of their belonging and closeness to him. Genetics and biology dictate that love. If so, one might say that the love of the Jewish people the honored rabbi spoke about is a kind of family love, and therefore not contingent on anything. It is a love based on biological and ethnic closeness—that is, on inborn traits that do not depend on the person—and not on decisions or on some behavior worthy of love.
In column 22 I discussed the various commandments of love in Jewish law, and asked whether they are addressed to the emotions or to the intellect. My conclusion was that the commandments of love do not speak of instinctive or emotional love, but of deliberate, rational action that is supposed to culminate in the existence of a feeling. We are supposed to love someone because of some trait or virtue he has that is worthy of appreciation and love. Mere spontaneous love has no value in Jewish law, and in fact no value at all. It is just a feeling that exists in me, nothing more. And indeed, to the best of my judgment, love for relatives is a natural fact and not a value (as distinct from practical concern for family members, which is a value. See column 51 on the model of circles of closeness). Someone who does not love his relatives is unusual, but I do not see in that any moral or ethical problem. That is how he is constituted. It is not his decision and not something dependent on him, so there is no judging him for it. At most there is a psychological problem here, since without love it will be hard for him to care for them. Fine—let him get a pill from a psychiatrist and deal with it.
We also saw there that if this is indeed a command addressed to the intellect rather than to the emotions, then one can live even in an emotionally complex state. I can love and hate the same person simultaneously. For example, I can love him because he is a convert and hate him because he sins. So too in love of the Jewish people one can live in a complex state: to love those evacuating at Amona because they are Jews and hate them because they are acting wickedly. But notice that the love in this case is natural and therefore devoid of value, whereas the hate arises from deliberate awareness, and precisely for that reason it expresses a value judgment. Therefore at most I would be prepared to accept the claim that if a Jew acts wickedly, one may love him because he is a Jew (because that is what I naturally feel, and I am not obligated to suppress it), but this does not contradict my duty to hate him for his evil deeds. In other words, I am prepared to accept a complex statement that recognizes this love as legitimate alongside the hatred required by his deeds and choices. But the claim that one is obligated to love him because of his special quality and therefore forbidden to hate him for his evil deeds seems to me nonsense. First, there is no contradiction between love and hate, and one can relate to a person ambivalently (so there is no need to reject one in favor of the other). Second, the special quality—or belonging to my people—is at most a natural reason why I already feel love for him, but not a reason that obligates me to love him. Obligations to love arise only from a person’s behavior and choices, not from his natural and inborn data.
The diagnosis
Beyond all this, I also wonder how the honored rabbi knows that these actions are done for external reasons and not out of the inner essence of those people. Perhaps that is precisely their essence. He apparently assumes that a Jew, simply by being a Jew, cannot act badly. He posits some essential nature for a Jew qua Jew, and from that reaches his diagnosis. This of course sharpens all the more the points I have made until now: if every Jew really does have such an inbuilt essence that does not depend on us, that is exactly why it has no significance whatever when I come to determine my relation to that person. It is inborn, not the result of his choice. On the contrary, he cannot even escape it (though it seems he often manages to do so rather successfully).
In fact, this is a kind of dilemma: if his inborn nature really is positive, then it is not deserving of appreciation and love. And if it is not inborn but the result of choice (and therefore does merit appreciation and love), then whence the confidence that these actions are external to him and that his inner nature is good? Perhaps he simply did not choose the good?
This brings us to the discussion of the assumption that every Jew indeed has an inborn good nature; in fact, this is part of what is usually called “Segulat Yisrael.”
Segulat Yisrael
The accepted meaning of the term “Segulat Yisrael” contains two components: 1. There is a unique inborn Jewish nature (as opposed to the rest of humanity). 2. This nature is spiritually and morally good (certainly relative to the rest of humanity).
The author of the Shulchan Arukh, at the beginning of Even HaEzer (sec. 2:2; and likewise in Maimonides, Forbidden Intercourse 19:17), writes:
All families are presumed fit, and one may marry into them from the outset. Even so, if you see two families that are constantly provoking one another (or two individuals who constantly provoke each other), or if you see a family characterized by strife and quarrelling at all times, or if you see a man who multiplies quarrels with everyone and is exceedingly brazen, one should be suspicious of them and it is proper to keep away from them, for these are signs of disqualification. Likewise, anyone who constantly disqualifies others—for example, by casting aspersions on families or individuals and saying that they are mamzerim—one should suspect him, lest he himself be a mamzer. And if he says that they are slaves, one should suspect him lest he himself be a slave, for one who disqualifies others does so with his own blemish. Similarly, one who is brazen, cruel, hates people, and does not perform acts of kindness toward them is especially suspect, lest he be a Gibeonite.
Someone who is brazen, cruel, and hates people should be suspected of not being Jewish (the source of this is Yevamot 79a). There is an assumption here that there exists an inbuilt Jewish nature, and that it is positive.
But this assumption seems puzzling to me in at least two respects:
- How do we know this? Is it an empirical result (the result of observing the people around us)? I see quite a few Jews around me who are not especially good. I must say that I also do not see any real difference between Jews and non-Jews in terms of average goodness.
- How is this “Segulat Yisrael” even defined? Every people has its own distinctiveness, which is the result of genetics, culture, history, and other factors that shape the character of a people and its members. In that sense, the inhabitants of Mali or Belarus also have their own special quality. They too have average characteristics different from those of other peoples. So do they too possess some special quality? If so, what is special about us? Clearly our history, genetics (greatly reinforced by the prohibition on intermarriage, though of course there are also converts and intermarriage), and culture have shaped a distinctive character for us, just as happens with every other people. Is that what is meant when people speak of a special quality?
I get the impression that this is not what people mean. Usually they mean an inborn and inherent uniqueness, unlike the natural uniqueness that exists in every other people. But that returns us to question 1, since empirical observations of Jews may indeed yield distinctive character traits, but we have no way of knowing whether this is the result of our shared and distinctive culture and biography, or whether there is something inborn here that has been imprinted on us from above. Take, for example, those evacuating Amona. The honored rabbi kindly explained to us that inwardly they are in fact very good, and what they are actually doing is only the result of external influences. How does he know that? What I see is behavior that the person chose. I know nothing of his nature except through his behavior. So from where does he derive his profound diagnosis of the Jew’s watermelon-like dichotomy (green on the outside and red on the inside—in other words, Good on the inside and bad on the outside., good within and bad without)? In fact, this is an unfalsifiable thesis, since every time we see a Jew or Jews behaving badly we attribute it to external influences. But the philosophers of science have already taught us that if it cannot be falsified, then neither can it be learned from empirical observation. That is the other side of the same coin. If so, this cannot be the result of observation. So from where did the advocates of the thesis of Segulat Yisrael learn it?
Well, perhaps this is a tradition from Sinai, but I do not know sources that show that God indeed revealed this secret to us. I allow myself to guess that it is an insight of certain sages that arose from observing their surroundings. In their time and place there was probably a striking and clear difference in behavior between Jew and non-Jew. Today, to my impression, that is not the case. So either there are very powerful external influences nowadays, or perhaps what earlier sages understood as an essential nature was really behavior and culture, in which case it is no wonder that things have changed.
But it seems to me that the very question of the source of this widespread belief is based on a mistake. As far as I know, this belief has no source, and almost none of the sages of Israel write this, at least not explicitly. Thus, for example, the words of the Shulchan Arukh cited above are not necessarily to be interpreted as referring to an essential special quality. They may also describe culture and acquired character (incidentally, as noted above, if it is acquired, it is more worthy of appreciation). The Kuzari is perhaps the exception in this matter (with his five levels, with the Jew at the top), and it has already been pointed out that Maimonides apparently disagreed with him on this.[1] This essentialist conception, which today seems to many self-evident—almost an article of faith—has no real source. When some sage speaks of Segulat Yisrael, it is quite possible that he means the role of the Jewish people, or an acquired character, and not some exalted spiritual nature.
I will conclude by saying that clarifying who held what view on this issue seems to me worthless. Even if the Shulchan Arukh or the Kuzari thought that this refers to something essential, that does not mean they were right. They—or the sources on which they relied—had that impression, but I, in my smallness, have a different impression. This of course brings us to the question of the authority of sages with respect to facts. To the best of my understanding, no sage has authority in factual matters, but this is not the place to elaborate.
[1] See, for example, Aryeh Stern’s article, “Segulat Yisrael according to Maimonides,” Tzohar 25. See also the discussions that arose there following the article.
Discussion
Amusing and sharp. Thank you very much!
Indeed, words like goads. Although my impression is that the Maharal too takes Midrashim and kneads them as he wishes. Still, it may be that I do not know his method well enough, and perhaps in his view this really is the plain meaning of those Midrashim. Thanks.
The pleasure is mine.
Regarding the Shulchan Arukh, it can be explained simply that his words are not really instructing society to suspect that a person with bad traits is not Jewish; rather, they are meant to hint to a person of bad character that he should stop, otherwise people may end up thinking he is not Jewish.
And similarly we find in the ordeal of the sotah, where the Torah’s purpose was not to punish or bless the suspected woman, but to calm the husband when he sees that nothing happened to his wife, and to restore the love and affection between them.
That’s a derashah, no?
Yonatan, absolutely not. That’s pilpul (not derashah). More power to you for the nice pilpul. 🙂
A powerful post. I really loved the brilliant definition: “Derashah is a correct conclusion based on a foolish inference, whereas pilpul is a correct inference that leads to a foolish conclusion.”
On the subject of sermons, it is important to me to point out that there once was high-quality preaching that has disappeared. Fine preaching belonged to the rabbis of Italy during the Renaissance—for example, the book Binah Le-Ittim by R. Azariah Figo, rabbi of Venice, who would preach every Shabbat to the members of the community. It’s worth taking a look at the book and seeing what a sermon used to be like. For some reason, quality preaching was replaced by the kind of preachers you find against your will at some “weekend getaway” on sale, at some hotel “with a view, five stars, spa, and a performance by a rabbi who is also a comic-preacher and a certified magician in practical Kabbalah (from some covert cobbler).” It’s obvious the lecturer took a speakers’ course—training and coaching in hand motions and grandiose facial expressions. It’s bread and circuses for the masses, a New Age trend in the style of Madonna’s tefillin. Unfortunately, we are all partners and brothers in the suffering involved in the obligation to attend all kinds of family celebrations, where there are people who should be kept away from the microphone at all costs, because they do not know how to put it down and they rattle on endlessly… I imagine to myself the members of the Venetian community listening to complex and lengthy sermons, with good taste and understanding, and I’m sure that today it just wouldn’t work….
It’s very worthwhile to hear the demonstration of celebration-preachers at the following link… (beware of uncontrollable laughter…)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=872n-Y6FSA8
My late father, who was a wise man, once told me: at the end of a sermon, ask yourself: bottom line, what exactly did he say? Could it be—nothing at all? Since then I am actually the only one who listens to every sermon, and in the end discovers again how right he was…
The main inference from this column is that you should buy a dishwasher. That way you’ll rack up fewer radio hours in the kitchen.
And regarding love of family, you need to check who turned on the radio and caused a Jew to commit acts of Gibeon.
Hi Michi,
You tell about the horrifying experience you had in the kitchen when you heard tedious moralizing about love of Israel. What would you say about what we went through?
For three days they prepared us for the moving occasion on which God would reveal Himself to us to give us the Torah; Moses even added a day on his own initiative. Who authorized him? And on the morning of the third day, they shattered our sweet night’s sleep with thunder and lightning and pillars of smoke.
Tired and irritable, we trudged to the foot of the mountain, and there, in addition to the pyrotechnics and the dreadful noise, another awful experience was added: the mountain began hovering threateningly over our heads, and the Ten Commandments began to be heard—disappointing and boring.
‘I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt’—a tautological statement that can neither be disproved nor proved. Perhaps Pharaoh’s compassion was stirred? Perhaps the ‘law of small numbers’ was at work here? What indication do we have to assume that God intervenes in the laws of nature?
The same goes for ‘For in six days the Lord your God made the heavens and the earth’—against the scientific view accepted by all the sages of civilized lands, who describe a mighty struggle for existence among the gods?
The rest of the statements were trivial, with no new factual claim at all. Nonsense at its best. ‘You shall have no other gods’ and ‘You shall not make for yourself a graven image’—why, those are among the seven Noahide commandments; likewise ‘Honor your father,’ ‘You shall not murder,’ ‘You shall not commit adultery,’ ‘You shall not steal,’ ‘You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor’—trivial matters, categorical moral commands to which humanity has been obligated from time immemorial. Why put us through ‘sleep deprivation’ for this?
Some of the statements were blatantly immoral. ‘Remember the Sabbath day to sanctify it’—to sit idle one-seventh of the time? ‘You shall not covet’? Why, all human progress comes from envy and competition, which lead to achievement and advancement!
All this dreadful noise and intimidation was intended for nothing but to turn us into a submissive and obedient ‘nation of slaves,’ into ‘bashful ones’ who recoil from bluntly criticizing someone greater than themselves in wisdom and number; into ‘merciful ones and practitioners of kindness’ who are willing to contain even those who are undeserving. But we will not surrender to herd mentality, and proudly we will hurl at the leader who disappointed us: ‘Will you gouge out the eyes of those men?’
We strengthen your hands for the audacity and courage that, despite your vegetarianism, you slaughter without mercy all the sacred cows!
Sincerely, Datan Tzin and Samson Yovavinger
Woooow, really a beautiful article.
Especially the distinction of derashah as a faulty inference, and pilpul as a faulty conclusion.
At the end of the article you wrote, “This of course brings us to a discussion of the authority of the sages regarding facts. To the best of my understanding, no sage has authority in factual matters, and this is not the place to elaborate.”
I only remember one place where you elaborated—when you spoke about ruling on the basis of a certain culture that existed in their time, in one of the recent articles.
Is there another place where you elaborated?
If so, where?
I remember that in one of your lectures you mentioned the difficulty regarding love of the convert, namely that it is already included in love of one’s fellow, and then you said that the answer is that love of the convert means loving him because he is a convert, whereas love of one’s fellow means loving him because he is your fellow (a Jew). That is, there is a halakhic obligation to love a Jew because he is a Jew, and not because of any conscious choices. I also remember you saying somewhere that love of one’s fellow applies even to secular Jews, since they are considered like “captured infants.” How does that fit with the line you presented in the article?
With God’s help, 11 Shevat 5777
To Ramda—many greetings,
More power to you for bringing to our attention the fine idea of the Chabad rabbi about ‘firmness in love of Israel.’ The Shulchan Arukh opens with the importance of firmness in the service of God: ‘He should be strong as a lion to do the will of his Father in Heaven,’ and the Rema added: ‘And he should not be ashamed before those who mock.’
Then comes the Chabad rabbi and balances us a bit. We should be firm not only against others, but also against ourselves! Our rage against one who cruelly uproots Jews from their homes is natural and also justified. But even when the deed is evil and even abominable, one must not lose sight of the full picture: ‘Beloved is man, for he was created in the image… Beloved are Israel, for they were called children of the Omnipresent.’
The fact that the evil deed was done by someone who has a divine quality in him, an enormous potential for faith and aspiration to goodness, only intensifies our outrage over the moral fall from the loftiest heights to the deepest pit, but it also gives us hope. Since man in general was created in the image of God, and Israel in particular were called children of the Omnipresent, we believe that the fundamental nature of man is good, and therefore proper treatment can bring out the pearl hidden among mountains of evil!
To extract a pearl buried in mountains of evil, one must be aware that there is a pearl here. Proper treatment will include firm rebuke for the evil, but also encouragement and hope that the good inner core, which is expressed also in many good deeds even now, will in the end overcome the evil, for ‘a little bit of light pushes away a lot of darkness’!
Therefore great caution is needed even during struggle, even a struggle that is just and for the sake of Heaven, that the left hand that pushes away be accompanied by the right hand that draws near. This the sages taught us in the chapter Arvei Pesachim: that the enemy whom one must prioritize in giving assistance is a person whom we saw stumble in transgression and rebuked, and he remained in his rebellion—and even so we must help him first in order to subdue our inclination, and as Tosafot say there, so that the hatred should not turn into complete hatred.
The anger that is permitted is anger that is entirely a cry for repair, and often, especially in our generation, rebuke delivered pleasantly and ‘in a manner that will be accepted’ is more effective. So too the Mishnah Berurah brought on the Rema’s words that one should not be ashamed before mockers, that nevertheless one should not enter into a quarrel with them.
May it be God’s will that we conduct ourselves with the trait of Michael, the minister of narratives, who stands to teach merit regarding Israel, and even with the greater trait—that of Abraham, who did not despair of the possibility of correction even for the people of Sodom.
Sincerely, S. Z. Levinger.
I know Jackie Levy’s bit. It indeed faithfully represents the phenomenon. 🙂
It will appear, God willing, in my book (the trilogy).
Hello Oren. I hinted at this in my words here. I explained that loving someone because he is Israel means loving him when he behaves in the manner of Israel (does the deeds of your people). But if he does not do the deeds of your people, there is no value in loving him. As for secular Jews, what I am saying is that nonobservance of the commandments does not make one someone who does not do the deeds of your people, whom one is commanded to hate. But love for them depends on their deeds.
And in fact, בעקבות what you said I have just now thought that the commandment of love of Israel, in my humble opinion, really does not apply to them, since I love them not because of commandment observance (which they do not do) but because of their good deeds (their morality). There is no prohibition against loving them, but there is no commandment in that either.
Shatz”l, indeed I have not despaired at all, for if I had, I would not be writing all this. 🙂
Delightful.
What about a Jewish imbecile— is there no commandment to love him because he does not do the deeds of your people?
Indeed. One can love him with familial love (because he belongs to my people), but what value is there in love toward him if he does not keep commandments and does not conduct himself as a Jew? Perhaps there is value in love toward him as one who belongs to the Jewish idea, that is, to express through him love for the idea. This is unlike a secular Jew, regarding whom it is harder to say this, because he chose a different path.
With God’s help, 12 Shevat 5777
To Ramda and to Oren—many greetings,
According to your discussion regarding an imbecile, I see that your next step will be to say that even a minor who has not reached the age of commandments need not be loved, since he does not ‘do the deeds of your people.’ 🙂
And the Mishnah cries out and says: ‘Beloved is man, for he was created in the image… Beloved are Israel, for they were called children of the Omnipresent….’ Why should we not cleave to the attribute of our Creator and love His beloved ones? And all the more so one who is not punishable, regarding whom there is no conceivable thought that he should be diminished in love?
And even when they do not do the will of the Omnipresent—the prophet Malachi rebukes Israel for a line of not insignificant sins, and nevertheless he opens his harsh words of rebuke with ‘I have loved you, says the Lord,’ for that is the root of the fall—that beloved children forget that they are children of kings and wonder: ‘How have You loved us?’
And perhaps for that reason the repair begins through Elijah the prophet with ‘And he shall turn the heart of fathers to children,’ from which, ‘as in water face answers to face,’ there will also return ‘the heart of children to their fathers,’ speedily in our days.
Sincerely, S. Z. Levinger
On the intensity of God’s love for the people of Israel, a book has just now been published by Rabbi Hananel Elran (a teacher at the hesder yeshiva in Ramat HaSharon), Ve-Ahavat Olam Ahavtikha.
And perhaps this is the explanation of what the sages said, that the traits ‘bashful, merciful, and practitioners of kindness’ were acquired by us at Mount Sinai,
at Sinai we heard from the mouth of Might: ‘I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt,’ and after all, in Egypt we were idol worshipers and sunk in the forty-nine gates of impurity, and yet God had compassion on us and redeemed us—not because of our merit, but out of ‘gratuitous love.’ For that great kindness that God did for us—we *requite* Him by returning kindness to His creatures.
Shatz”l, who said one should not love him? What I said is that there is no commandment in this. But it is certainly permitted, and perhaps proper, to love him, and certainly if this is cleaving to the Creator’s attributes. Love for him would at most be a derivative of cleaving to the attributes of the Holy One, blessed be He, and not a derivative of the commandment ‘Love your fellow as yourself.’
The question is whether ‘does the deeds of your people’ is the reason for the love, or whether ‘does not do the deeds of your people’ is merely an exemption. Mark this distinction carefully. True, I know of no proof for the matter, but by reasoning it seems to me like the first approach, because, as I explained, familial love is not a value (though in the last message I raised the possibility that one should love a person because he is of Israel as an expression of love of God and the Jewish idea, and this requires further examination).
Rambam, Laws of Slaves, chapter 9, halakhah 8
“Cruelty and brazenness are found only among idol-worshiping gentiles, but the descendants of Abraham our father, namely Israel, upon whom the Holy One, blessed be He, bestowed the goodness of the Torah and commanded them with righteous statutes and laws, are merciful to all. And so too regarding the attributes of the Holy One, blessed be He, which He commanded us to emulate, it says: ‘And His mercies are upon all His works.’ And whoever shows mercy, mercy is shown to him, as it says: ‘And He will give you mercy, and have compassion upon you, and multiply you.'”
The Rambam indeed explains all the good traits of the people of Israel as owing to Torah study, observance of the commandments, and the command to cleave to His attributes. As the rabbi said, he does not posit that there is some nature in creation that indicates a ‘segulah’ embedded specifically in Jews, and therefore that they are necessarily different.
Accordingly, what difference is there at all between Jews and gentiles? Why did the Holy One, blessed be He, give the Torah only to Israel and command only them regarding Torah and commandments? I understand that physically and psychologically there is no difference at all between Jew and gentile, but we believe that there is an infinite Creator of the universe who acts in a transcendental world, and He established various differences between Jews and non-Jews (the fact that there are converts, and the halakhah that forbids a gentile to observe Shabbat, etc.). So let’s not call it segulah; let’s call it something else—but there is some kind of difference here. What is it?
I was reminded of the well-known fact that the relative share of Jewish Nobel Prize winners is 100 times their relative share in the population. Isn’t that a good indication that Jews have a unique essence relative to the other nations?
With God’s help, 12 Shevat 5777
Jews grew accustomed over thousands of years to seeing Torah study as a central value. More than two thousand years before humanity dreamed of ‘compulsory education,’ the prophets spoke of ‘And all your children shall be taught of the Lord.’ In every town and village there were teachers of young children, and even the poor among Israel did everything so that their children would learn Torah. That literate tradition became second nature in the Jewish soul, and even if they drifted from the tradition, the aspiration to acquire knowledge remained at the center of life.
Sincerely, S. Z. Levinger
An interesting treatment of derashah whose purpose is to teach and not to interpret, as opposed to interpretation, appears in a book called Machazeh Avraham
http://www.hebrewbooks.org/pdfpager.aspx?req=15252&st=&pgnum=27 (in the paragraph “there on 72b”)
where he himself applies this to the aggadah in tractate Bava Kamma about the man who had a young wife and an old one.
In his talks on Parashat Yitro, the Ratz”ya says that before the giving of the Torah, Yitro appears and gives his wise counsel, to teach us that it was not because of our unique wisdom that we merited to receive the Torah, for there are also great sages among the nations of the world.
The Rav Kook, in letter 556, says that he does not draw near all those who are distant, but only those in whom the light of the inner segulah shines, expressed in intense love for the people of Israel and the land, and in good traits. And not everyone is able to draw near; only a great sage who can distinguish between the inner essential light and the chosen corruptions in opinions and deeds—he is the one who can draw near and influence.
Sincerely, S. Z. Levinger
H.R., a fine source. Thanks. In my opinion there is no real difference. Abraham behaved properly and was a special personality (because he chose the good), and by virtue of this he and his descendants merited to be chosen by the Holy One, blessed be He, to fulfill His mission in the world. He had to choose one of the nations to designate for this (and this is the Midrash about how the Holy One, blessed be He, went around to the nations to give them the Torah), so there is no need for a segulah to explain the choice of Israel.
Hey Michi,
I heard in the name of the Hazon Ish about types of interpretations in Scripture.
There are those who say interpretations that fit the verse well, but the message is bad.
There are those whose message is good, but what can you do—it just doesn’t ‘fit’ the verse.
And there are those that are neither this nor that.
The first is homiletics, the second is Hasidic, and the third is Musarnik.
Oren,
Why is this evidence? It is a result of our culture and history, which leave their mark on us and shape us, as with every people. By the way, I get the impression that the percentage has been decreasing in recent years, and the reason is that the other nations are improving. It is certainly possible that in the future there will no longer be such a gap, and that may prove that even now there was no segulah here, but rather a result of our culture and history.
Nice, but homiletics does not fit the verse well. In my terminology, that is perhaps pilpul.
Indeed, although his words are rather infuriating from my perspective, he is probably right. The sages too did this sort of thing (loading incorrect interpretations onto the text just to reach the desired conclusion—rebuke or moral teaching). Unfortunately, at least nowadays, in this way the damage outweighs the benefit, and we must stop this mistake. Fools are influenced, and the wise laugh and disengage. See column 36: https://mikyab.net/%D7%A2%D7%9C-%D7%AA%D7%95%D7%A4%D7%A2%D7%AA-%D7%94%D7%99%D7%A6%D7%99%D7%90%D7%94-%D7%91%D7%A9%D7%90%D7%9C%D7%94-%D7%98%D7%95%D7%A8-36/
With God’s help, 17 Shevat 5777
When God first presents Pharaoh with the fact of the independent existence of the people of Israel, He declares: ‘Israel is My son, My firstborn.’ The firstborn brother is the brother who sees himself as responsible for the welfare and well-being of his younger siblings.
The people of Israel, like all the firstborns in the book of Genesis, are in fact the younger among the brothers, yet they are the ones who take upon themselves the responsibility to be the ‘heart’ of humanity, spurring and agitating all of humanity, bearing the banner of faith and values handed to them by their Creator.
The aspiration not to suffice with what exists and always to strive for repairing the world is ingrained in the Jewish soul. Not for nothing does the percentage of Jews in every revolutionary movement far exceed their proportion within humanity as a whole. So too is their willingness to sacrifice themselves for every ‘ism’ they believe will advance humanity.
And one day the Jews will discover that their eternal Torah is not only the foundation of all values, but also the ‘order of the world’ that teaches the proper balance among the values, and from them the whole world will learn!
Sincerely, S. Z. Levinger.
With God’s help, 18 Shevat 5777
The Maharal of Prague (Netzach Yisrael, chapter 2) asks:
‘For one may ask a very great question: when we investigate and examine all created beings, you will find one order. They do not depart from their order, nor do they change their law, for like begets like… If so, it would have been fitting likewise that from a root of righteousness and a faithful planting, the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob would be like them, and from something good evil would not emerge…
But the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob had among them bad offspring more than good ones in many periods. And since Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob were the foundations of this nation—how can such a thing be found among them?’
And he answers on the basis of the sages’ words (Sukkah 52a) that the evil inclination ‘leaves the nations of the world alone and provokes Israel… and Torah scholars more than all of them.’
To explain the matter, the Maharal uses the physical principle (which Newton would define dozens of years later…) that every force acting in a certain direction creates an opposing force:
‘For one who has a greater distinction than the rest of mankind—this is considered as though he departs from the order and measure, and because of this there cleaves to them a force that negates their distinction…
Therefore Israel, who inherited a supreme distinction that goes beyond measure, have attached to them the force of evil, namely the evil inclination, which is prepared to nullify that supreme distinction…’
In short: ‘Whoever is greater than his fellow—his inclination is greater than his,’ and thus the balance required by the principle of free choice is preserved.
According to what I suggested above, that the destiny of the people of Israel is to be the heart that stirs humanity and brings it to elevation—there is a need for a trait of criticalness and an unwillingness to accept ‘what is,’ and this very trait is the ‘root of rebellion’ and the ‘root of repair’!
Sincerely, S. Z. Levinger
The author of the Tanya also wrote about the essence of the Jew as a character for whom values of kindness and mercy are natural, as opposed to the gentile, for whom these values can appear but not as natural ones, only as external.
I definitely think there is good homiletics—at times the use of the text gives rise to beautiful and valuable things even if this is not interpretation in the pure sense (in my opinion many of the aggadic derashot of the sages are built this way). It is not an idea disconnected from the source, but neither is it mere interpretation.
If needed, I would be happy to try to elaborate.
I think so too.
Glad to hear 🙂 I probably didn’t pay enough attention to the “usually” in the article
(as for the other subjects discussed in the article, my predecessors have already beaten me to them). Thanks, and Shabbat shalom!
See also the last post I uploaded yesterday (104) and the discussions following it.
Thank you very much!
In the relevant context, it is interesting to see the Maharal’s words in Be’er HaGolah:
“And in this matter there is room to rebuke some of the rabbis, who call a ‘derashah’ whatever they say about a statement of the sages—whether the one who said it intended that meaning or did not intend it—only because the preacher wants to connect new ideas. And whatever is strange is more beloved, accepted, and pleasing to them, and they attach themselves to Midrashim of the sages that appear very far-fetched. Heaven forbid, heaven forbid, for they have stumbled and fallen, because this is not what derashah is. Rather, it is called ‘derashah’ because it is the seeking out and investigation of Scripture, as it was traditionally accepted by them to expound the Torah through the thirteen hermeneutical principles, neither subtracting nor adding anything at all. But a derashah consisting of vain matters—God forbid—this is nothing but a deficiency in their understanding and in the depth of the sages’ words, as we have said.”