“With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?!”: A Look at a Talmudic Aggadah and Its Lessons (Column 320)
More than once I’ve written here that it’s very hard to derive lessons from the Sages’ aggadot. This is mainly because in matters of thought we have a priori positions (unlike most halakhic questions), and no less because aggadot admit of many and varied interpretations (far more than halakha). I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a case of a person who thought X and, merely because there is a Talmudic aggadah pointing otherwise, abandoned his position and adopted “not-X.”[1] In the latest Ein Ayah class (Ein Ayah 23) we studied an aggadic sugya that challenges that claim of mine, and I’ll try here to analyze it and examine whether one can derive a lesson or conclusion from it.[2]
Isaiah’s Rebuke
The Gemara in Berakhot 10a brings a story about King Hezekiah, who didn’t want to engage in procreation because he foresaw, by Divine inspiration, that a wicked son (Manasseh) would come from him. The prophet Isaiah came to rebuke him and instruct him to change his decision:
[…] As it is said: “In those days Hezekiah was sick unto death; and Isaiah son of Amoz the prophet came to him and said to him: Thus said the LORD (of Hosts): Set your house in order, for you shall die and not live,” etc. What is “you shall die and not live”?—You shall die in this world and not live in the World to Come. He [Hezekiah] said to him: Why so extreme? He [Isaiah] said to him: Because you did not engage in procreation. He [Hezekiah] said to him: Because I saw by Divine inspiration that sons who are not good would issue from me. He [Isaiah] said to him: With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?! That which you are commanded—you must do; and what is pleasing before the Holy One, blessed be He—let Him do.
Isaiah argues that Hezekiah ought not abandon a commandment with which we are charged (procreation) because of future forecasts. We are commanded to be fruitful and multiply, and that’s what we must do, without calculations. The future should be left to God.
“With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?!”: An Initial Interpretation
Isaiah tells Hezekiah to ignore the vision he saw by Divine inspiration, to marry a woman and fulfill procreation. His argument is formulated: “With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?! That which you are commanded—you must do; and what is pleasing before the Holy One, blessed be He—let Him do.” Simply put, the idea is that future predictions are a shaky basis for decision-making. Even if the expected future is that the son will be wicked, it is always possible that he will choose the good and be righteous.
According to this reading, Hezekiah held a deterministic view, at least regarding what he saw by Divine inspiration. In his view, the future granted via Divine inspiration is certain and unchangeable, whereas Isaiah argues against Hezekiah’s fatalistic determinism and says he must not lose hope, for a person always has free choice.
Rejecting That Interpretation
But Rav Kook in Ein Ayah there (sec. 137) writes:
Hezekiah, as a king whose concern is the present, trembled greatly about the current state of the nation. When, by the spirit of God upon him, he saw that if he fathered sons they would be corrupters, they might greatly harm the people when seated on the royal throne. But Isaiah said, “With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?” For prophecy reflects the nation’s eternal condition, wherein the days of one generation are reckoned as nothing. Behold, with the cessation of the monarchy and the fall of the throne from the ruling family, an eternal, lasting collapse may come. The stumbling of one wicked king who will come from the seed chosen by God will pass, for in the end the throne will be established in righteousness and uprightness. Therefore, you must not rely on this to cut off the eternal chain on account of a temporary perspective, even if it came by Divine inspiration.
His last sentence says that although what Hezekiah saw was by Divine inspiration—something that must be true—he is nevertheless obligated to engage in procreation. Rav Kook understands that Isaiah is not arguing against Hezekiah’s determinism. He maintains that this determinism is correct, namely that a wicked son will necessarily come from him, and yet it is forbidden for Hezekiah to refrain from procreation. This is also implied by Rav Kook’s rationale for this evaluative ruling, to which we’ll return below.
One can prove this reading clearly from the continuation of the aggadah, where Hezekiah turns to Isaiah with a matchmaking proposal:
He said to him: Then now give me your daughter; perhaps my merit and yours will cause that sons who are good will issue from me. He said to him: The decree has already been issued against you. He said to him: Son of Amoz, finish your prophecy and go out! Thus have I received from the house of my father’s father: Even if a sharp sword rests upon a person’s neck, he should not withhold himself from mercy. It was likewise stated: Rabbi Yoḥanan and Rabbi (Eliezer) +Masoret HaShas [Elazar]+ both said: Even if a sharp sword rests upon a person’s neck, he should not withhold himself from mercy, as it is said, “Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him.”
Hezekiah asks Isaiah to give him his daughter in marriage, hoping that their combined merits will help his prayer be accepted to tear up the evil decree so that his son will be righteous.
Now note: Isaiah refuses the proposal on the grounds that “the decree has already been issued.” That is, Isaiah here actually expresses a deterministic stance: what Hezekiah saw by Divine inspiration will indeed come to pass.[3] It follows clearly that Rav Kook was right—Isaiah’s claim did not rely on the possibility that the Divine-inspiration forecast could fail; the opposite is true. Isaiah himself holds a deterministic view that if Divine inspiration said a wicked son would emerge, that is what will be. Yet he instructs Hezekiah not to refrain from procreation. From here we see that it is specifically Hezekiah who holds that one can change the future he foresaw by Divine inspiration. Thus, their positions are the very opposite of our initial interpretation.
Hezekiah’s Initial Position
The interesting question is what Hezekiah thought at the outset and what he ultimately concluded. From this exchange it appears that Hezekiah actually holds a non-deterministic position (as per the tradition from his forebears): even if Divine inspiration showed that his son would be wicked, it might turn out otherwise. Yet he initially considered refraining from procreation. How can that be understood? It seems that, in his view, it is enough that the probability is high that the child will be wicked to justify refraining from procreation. In other words, he adopts a more extreme halakhic stance than we attributed to him above: even if the future is not absolutely fixed—even if there is a chance to change the evil decree—the high likelihood of that outcome suffices to refrain from the commandment to procreate.
This is a rather extreme and puzzling approach. We should remember that the commandment to procreate is not just one of the 613; it is a fundamental value for which the world was created and for which we were created within it (whence the commandment “He formed it to be inhabited”). Yet Hezekiah allows himself to refrain from this command (thereby endangering the continuity of the royal dynasty altogether, as Rav Kook wrote) merely because the odds are that his son will be wicked. To be sure, we must recall that a wicked king of Israel is not the same as a private individual fearing he may have a wicked son; a wicked king has global significance. In any case, this is apparently Hezekiah’s view.
Note further that Hezekiah does not argue with Isaiah about Manasseh’s own choice. His claim concerns tearing up the evil decree issued regarding Manasseh even before his birth. The destiny awaiting him (his “mazal”) is to be wicked. The fact that Manasseh has choice and could choose to be righteous is not what convinces Hezekiah to bring him into the world. His contention is that the decree itself can be torn up. That is, if the decree were absolute, then even if Manasseh could choose to be righteous, that alone would not suffice to obligate Hezekiah to procreate. Only the possibility of tearing up the decree (changing the destiny into which Manasseh would be born) is what persuades Hezekiah to be fruitful and multiply. The discussion is not about the son’s own choice but about Hezekiah’s influence on his son’s expected destiny.
The Sugya’s Conclusion: Is It Really “With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?”
Finally, note that Hezekiah ultimately changes his stance and is persuaded to procreate. Moreover, in the debate between Isaiah and Hezekiah, it seems the conclusion aligns more with Hezekiah. He does not accept Isaiah’s position—the view of “With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?!”—that future forecasts are meaningless and one must simply follow halakha. From Hezekiah’s conclusion we see that had it truly been impossible to change the future destiny, he would have stood his ground and refrained from procreation—contrary to Isaiah’s view. Hezekiah agrees to bring a child into the world only because of the possibility that the destiny will change.
It appears, then, that Hezekiah rules like Isaiah but not for his reasons. Isaiah argued that one must bring a child into the world in any case—even if the destiny is fixed and unchangeable (that is the meaning of the principle Isaiah states: “With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?!”). But Hezekiah does not accept that claim. If so, it is not correct to infer from the sugya the rule “With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?!” According to the sugya’s upshot, if I indeed know the hidden counsel of God, then I should refrain from procreation. The conclusion that one must nonetheless fulfill procreation and ignore the forecast of Divine inspiration is based only on the fact that the future destiny is not necessary and can change. That is the sugya’s conclusion. If so, God’s hidden matters can indeed be relevant to my halakhic decisions, as long as it is clear to me—absolutely (for example, via a prophet)—that this truly is the counsel of the Almighty.
“With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?!”: An Alternative Explanation
In the passage cited above, Rav Kook offers an explanation for why one may not refrain from procreation based on cost-benefit considerations. His claim is that it is preferable to pay the price of one wicked king for a single generation rather than sever the royal dynasty from Israel entirely.[4] In other words, these are utilitarian considerations, not a general principle instructing us to ignore the hidden counsel of God. To my mind, it is very hard to fit that reading into Isaiah’s statement: “With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?!”
It therefore seems to me that the straightforward explanation of Isaiah’s claim is not about utility but a categorical assertion: decisions a person makes in this world must be based on realistic prudence, values, and halakha—no more. Considerations that belong to God’s hidden counsel—metaphysics, future forecasts, and Divine inspiration—should play no part in our decision-making. This, in my view, is the plain meaning of the expression “With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?!”
Again, I would stress that Isaiah argues this even assuming the deterministic premise that God’s hidden counsel is clear and absolute (as we saw, this is what he himself assumed). That is, even if I saw by Divine inspiration that my son will be wicked, and even if that is certain and unchangeable, I still must not consider that information when making decisions—not because it is untrue, but because it is not relevant to our plane of discussion and decision. Nor is it because of cost-benefit calculations, as Rav Kook explained the Gemara, but because our decisions should be made solely according to our assessment of reality, together with value and halakhic considerations—and nothing else. This also seems to be the meaning of Isaiah’s continuation: “That which you are commanded—you must do; and what is pleasing before the Holy One, blessed be He—let Him do.” Leave to God what is His, and focus on what is incumbent upon you.[5]
Contemporary Implications
I have pointed out more than once[6] that in the debate between religious Zionism and anti-Zionist Haredism there is a very deep common denominator: both act on metaphysical considerations. Religious Zionism assumes that Zionism is a movement bearing the beginning of redemption (with indicators listed by the prophets: ingathering of exiles, the land’s flourishing, etc.); that is, its shapers are bearers of a Divine idea, and therefore one ought—even is obligated—to join and assist it. Their anti-Zionist opponents argue that this movement expresses the forces of the sitra aḥra; in fact, it is not the beginning of redemption but the “footsteps of the Messiah” (in which brazenness abounds and the other signs listed in Sotah 49b), hence it is forbidden to join it and one must oppose it. The considerations that each side brings to its stance include metaphysical components; that is, an evaluation of the metaphysical forces behind the process influences the decision whether to join it or oppose it.
I argue against both of these conceptions that both err in acting on the basis of considerations that are among God’s hidden matters, rather than sufficing with realpolitik, halakhic, and value considerations alone. Zionism based on considerations of nationality alone, on interest, or on the commandment of settling the Land is religiously legitimate (though it is not necessarily “religious-Zionist” with a hyphen, since such Zionism can be non-religious; a religious person can be Zionist in a secular-national sense).[7] Opposition to Zionism on the basis of considerations that it leads to religious laxity, or the prohibition of cooperation with secularists, and perhaps even the prohibition of rebellion against the nations (the “Three Oaths” of Ketubot; admittedly metaphysical, but already appearing in the Talmud as guidance given to Israel—though in my opinion this too is faulty metaphysics), or simply the assessment that it is an unrealistic movement (with little chance of success), is legitimate anti-Zionism (though mistaken, in my view). All these are considerations of realpolitik, values, or halakha. Metaphysics should not take part in this discussion; in that sense, both sides in this debate suffer from a similar flaw.
One can qualify this and say that if all other considerations are neutral—i.e., there are no halakhic, value, or realpolitik considerations—then one may also take metaphysical considerations into account (e.g., convening a court or performing various magical rites to bring the Messiah, and the like). But where there is a halakhic price (as in Hezekiah’s case—there is a commandment like procreation which he was commanded, and because of metaphysics he annuls it), or a political price, there one must not consider metaphysical considerations: “With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?! That which you are commanded—you must do; and what is pleasing before the Holy One, blessed be He—let Him do.”
It is interesting here to cite Nahmanides’ well-known words about Joseph.[8] Ramban asked why Joseph, after being appointed viceroy in Egypt, did not inform his father that he was alive, and he explains (on Gen. 42:9):
And so I say that all these matters in Joseph were due to his wisdom in interpreting dreams. For one must wonder: after Joseph remained many days in Egypt and was an officer and a ruler in the house of a great prince in Egypt, how did he not send even a single letter to his father to inform and comfort him? Egypt is about six days from Hebron; and even if it were a year’s journey, he should have informed him for the honor of his father, the precious redemption of his soul, and ransomed him with great wealth.
But he saw that the bowing of his brothers to him—and his father and all his seed with them—could not take place in their land; and he hoped that it would happen there in Egypt when he saw his great success there, all the more after he heard Pharaoh’s dream, which made clear to him that they would all come there and all his dreams would be fulfilled.
Joseph’s reason for not notifying his father was his desire to realize his dreams. Many have attacked Ramban on this, since the realization of dreams is God’s concern. For example, the author of the Akeidah writes:
Let the One who gives dreams bring their fulfillment. Indeed, it is utter folly for a person to strive to realize his dreams, for they are things that are done without the owners’ will.
Joseph should have fulfilled the commandment to honor his father and not weighed metaphysical considerations—especially since here this is not a neutral step. Failing to notify is a severe injury to the commandment of honoring his father, and no metaphysical consideration justifies such harm. Again we can formulate it thus: “With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?! That which you are commanded—you must do; and what is pleasing before the Holy One, blessed be He—let Him do.”
What Did Hezekiah Think?
We must now re-examine what Hezekiah thought. Let me remind us that the sugya’s conclusion is not Isaiah’s claim but Hezekiah’s stance. In light of what I’ve said in explaining Isaiah’s words, we must return to Hezekiah and ask: did he favor mixing metaphysical considerations into decision-making? We saw that his conclusion was like Isaiah’s, but not for his reasons. That is, he accepts Isaiah’s position that one must not transgress halakha based on metaphysical considerations, but conditions this on the metaphysical consideration being certain. If the future forecast can change—if there is a chance Manasseh will not be wicked—then one must not consider God’s hidden matters. But if the forecast is certain, it seems he remains of the view that one should not engage in procreation. We must thus slightly update the sugya’s conclusion: there is room to consider metaphysical factors in decision-making, but only if they are certain. If there is a chance they are untrue, we must carry out what is incumbent upon us without “calculations.”
The question is how certainty can be reached in such matters. Seemingly this is metaphysics to which we do not have direct access. And indeed, in the debate between religious Zionism and anti-Zionist Haredism there are positions to either side. Here it is unlikely that either side can honestly regard its stance as certain. Therefore, in this case neither side is permitted to mix metaphysical considerations into decision-making and position-forming regarding these processes.
It would seem the only way to attain certainty regarding a metaphysical interpretation of reality is via a prophet. A prophet receives from God an authorized interpretation and is commanded to convey it to the public. A decision based on metaphysical or future information received from a prophet is permitted (though a prophet’s halakhic ruling cannot instruct transgressing the Torah—except perhaps temporarily). But when we have no prophecy, no matter how convinced we are of our interpretation, it is not appropriate to consider it in decision-making.
Ironically, in our story Isaiah was a prophet. He came to Hezekiah and delivered his metaphysical assessment of reality: “The decree has already been issued,” yet Hezekiah decides not to accept it. In the final analysis, Hezekiah chooses not to accept Isaiah’s assessment of reality, but he does accept his practical directive; and as we saw, that is apparently the sugya’s conclusion. Note, however, that the sugya presents Hezekiah as also endowed with Divine inspiration, and it seems he too had access to metaphysical information (though he relies on a received tradition from his forefathers and not only on direct metaphysical sight). In any case, it seems the sugya’s conclusion is that a metaphysical assessment (at least so long as it is uncertain) does not play a role in decision-making and position-forming. According to Isaiah (note—precisely Isaiah, who was a prophet, maintains that prophecy does not change the halakhic directive!), this is true in any case; according to Hezekiah (who was not a prophet), such a consideration might be possible only if the metaphysical forecast is certain.
It would seem that this sugya actually leads us to a conclusion; contrary to what I mentioned at the beginning of the column, it seems one can draw a lesson from it and learn something. Practically speaking, of course, one may point out that most of the public and most rabbis do not think this way, for they rely on metaphysical interpretations of events to form positions and act. Let us look more closely.
Another Reading of the Sugya: Can One Reach a Conclusion from an Aggadic Sugya?
We must recall that Rav Kook offered another interpretation of the sugya. In his view, Isaiah is not making a statement about avoiding metaphysical considerations but a pragmatic weighing of outcomes (a bad king for one generation versus cutting off the monarchy altogether). Even according to him, though, it seems one must say that Hezekiah does not accept this; in his opinion, even the price of one wicked generation of kings may decide the matter, and therefore refraining from procreation is justified only if it is clear there will indeed be such a generation.[9]
It is no wonder that this is the reading Rav Kook chose (although in my estimation the straightforward reading is as I proposed), for in light of his approach to the Zionist process one can see that metaphysical considerations are, in his view, legitimate in decision-making. No wonder he reads the sugya in a different direction. Needless to say, Ramban himself also supports his approach. From Ramban’s words about Joseph it emerges that he too did not understand our sugya as I propose (though some dispute this even regarding Ramban). I will add and recall Rashi’s explanation of “the decree has already been issued,” which also apparently does not accept my reading of the sugya (at least in part). Still, this seems to me the plain sense of the sugya, and it is no wonder Ramban was attacked for his interpretation. Ironically, I would say that anti-Zionist Haredi opponents would join Ramban and Rav Kook in understanding the sugya this way, for, as we saw, both sides in this debate agree that metaphysical considerations are legitimate in decision-making. It seems they, too, read the sugya along the lines Rav Kook suggested and not as I have proposed.
Thus, even in this sugya—where it would seem one could extract an ideological and conceptual conclusion for our lives—this does not happen. Each (those commentators and myself) adopts the interpretation that fits his conception; once again we see that philosophical and ideological conceptions do not change in light of the conclusion of a conceptual sugya.
On second thought, there is no need to say these are tendentious readings. Perhaps the direction is the reverse: perhaps it is because of Rav Kook’s and the Satmar Rebbe’s interpretation of this sugya (maybe that is how they understood it on its own terms) that they formed their metaphysical stance regarding Zionism and the weight of metaphysics in life. And for me as well—perhaps, since this is the straightforward reading of the sugya in my view, from here arose my position that one must not mix metaphysical considerations into decision-making.
As for myself, I can attest that I very much doubt I would change my metaphysics-skeptical outlook in light of the conclusion of this sugya—or, conversely, if I were convinced that the sugya concludes differently, whether I would change my position that is wary of metaphysical considerations in real-world conduct. Still, I truly think my reading is the most reasonable in this sugya, and therefore I don’t even have a dilemma.[10]
Yet it remains important and worthwhile to ask what the plain sense of this sugya is. In my estimation, the plain sense is what I have proposed (we saw that this is also precise in Isaiah’s wording). If I am right, then the necessary conclusion is that the interpretations of Rav Kook and the Satmar Rebbe are indeed tendentious. They assumed that metaphysical considerations carry weight in decision-making, and apparently from there they derived their interpretation of the sugya. Moreover, I allow myself to surmise that if this was their stance so firmly and with such significant life implications, it is not based only on some particular reading of a sugya. A brief perusal of the Satmar Rebbe’s VaYoel Moshe will show you the consistent and pronounced tendentiousness he adopts in interpreting every source to fit his view.
Incidentally, his former disciple and ḥasid, Rabbi Yissakhar Teichtal, in his Em HaBanim Semeiḥah, takes issue with his master and supports Zionism,[11] and he too does so with some tendentiousness—though far less than his master’s. Both sides recruit here all and sundry—midrashim, aggadot, and halakhic approaches—just to reach the desired conclusion. I have tried here to present my conception through (I hope) a straightforward analysis of the sugya itself, and the matter stands for the reader’s judgment.
In any case, as a matter of fact it truly seems that no one actually changes his position after studying the sugya. Whether one can and should draw a clear conclusion from the sugya is another question (that of the parties’ interpretive integrity). In my opinion, in this case the answer is yes. If so, at least in my view, this is an aggadic sugya that is exceptional in this respect, for it has a clear conclusion for our lives.
[1] See also in columns 134–5, 138, 242, 272, and more.
[2] The main points can be found in the recording of Ein Ayah 23 on the site.
[3] I assume here that the decree Isaiah speaks of is that the son would be wicked (and we also know this indeed came to pass with Manasseh). This also follows from what comes next, since Isaiah’s statement that a decree has been issued is presented as an answer to Hezekiah’s request, who is trying to ensure that the son who will be born will nevertheless be righteous.
Rashi here, however, explains that the unchangeable decree was that Hezekiah would die (and not that the son would be wicked). Perhaps what led Rashi to interpret this way is the premise we saw above (in the first interpretation) that Isaiah rebukes Hezekiah for his determinism. But then it is unclear why determinism regarding the decree of death itself is acceptable according to Isaiah (see also the Maharsha here who explains this). Moreover, it is not clear why Isaiah addresses this as a response to Hezekiah’s request that he give him his daughter so he might beget a righteous son. What is the relevance of the death decree (Hezekiah doesn’t necessarily want this to escape death, but to fulfill Isaiah’s halakhic directive)? Furthermore, according to Rashi it is unclear why Isaiah needs to discuss Hezekiah’s proposal at all. Whether or not a death decree has been issued, Hezekiah wants to fulfill the commandment and beget a righteous son. Why does Isaiah refuse on the grounds that a death decree has been issued?
Therefore, in my remarks above I assume the plain sense of the Gemara—that Isaiah means a decree that Manasseh will be wicked. Interestingly, according to the Baḥ’s version later in the Gemara, Isaiah indeed gives Hezekiah his daughter, and from them come Manasseh and Rabshakeh. Manasseh is indeed wicked, but at the end of his life he apparently repents (see overviews, for example here and here).
[4] Incidentally, even this is not categorically true, but only given the assumption that in the future the kings will return to the right path. But if the forecast were that all the kings would continue in Manasseh’s way, then Isaiah too would not have advised him to engage in procreation.
[5] This is, of course, a paraphrase of the well-known expression in its Christian context: “Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s.”
[6] A clear expression of this can be found, among other places, at the end of the second book in the trilogy, and even more in my daughter Bruria’s seminar paper, which appears on the site.
[7] If the basis is halakhic, then perhaps it is religious-Zionist. But if the basis is interest or national considerations, then it is not.
[8] For a review, see for example here.
[9] From Rav Kook’s words in the cited passage it appears he explains this weighing in Isaiah’s words and ignores the fact that the sugya’s conclusion does not accept that claim. It seems that, in his view, the dictum “With the hidden matters of the Merciful—what is it to you?!” remains the conclusion (as many writers appear to take it), and this requires further inquiry.
[10] For me personally there is another problem in deriving conclusions from aggadic sugyot, since I do not see myself bound by them. Even if I were convinced that the sugya supports metaphysical considerations, I would not necessarily accept this.
[11] But see the introduction to the new edition, where the Lubavitcher Rebbe praises the author’s grandson for clarifying that his grandfather was not, God forbid, a Zionist.
Discussion
I always understood that the whole matter of proposing the match to Hezekiah, as well as the “the decree has already been decreed” in Isaiah’s reply, revolves around the possibility of canceling the “Set your house in order, for you shall die.” That is, Hezekiah remained with his deterministic view regarding Manasseh’s future, and only tried to cancel the punishment decreed upon him because of that—either by the match or by not refraining from seeking mercy (and not to cancel the fact that his son would be wicked, which, as stated, was deterministic once known through divine inspiration).
Read the Gemara again.
With God’s help, 20 Tammuz 5780
A biographical note::
The gaon Rabbi Yissachar Shlomo Teichtal was not a disciple of the Satmar Rebbe, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum (who was two years younger than him), but of the Munkatch Rebbe, Rabbi Chaim Elazar Shapira, who was also a fierce opponent of Zionism.
Regards, Shatz
With the rabbi’s idea one can explain the well-known question about the law of the stubborn and rebellious son, who is judged on account of his future, from the story of Ishmael, where the Holy One, blessed be He, heard the lad’s prayer “where he is.”
By the way, I think that King Hezekiah did change his position regarding metaphysical information, for upon receiving the prophecy of his death he received information clearer and firmer than divine inspiration about it—so why did he pray??
It seems that Hezekiah arrived at a position in which he understood the proper attitude toward such information.
And it is true that prophecy is binding, but a prophecy of doom can change.
Later in the chapter Hezekiah prays, and the Holy One, blessed be He, answers him: “I have heard your prayer… behold, I will heal you… and I will add fifteen years to your life.” It seems that what troubled Hezekiah after the conversation with Isaiah was not the fate of his son but his health. (Hezekiah’s request for a sign is also proof that he feared the decree of his death.)
Likewise, the expression “Even if a sharp sword rests upon a person’s neck, he should not refrain from seeking mercy” sounds as though it is speaking about mortal danger, and the Gemara on page 10b connects the matters and says: “Immediately, he turned his face [to the wall], etc.”
According to you, it turns out that Hezekiah answers Isaiah that even if a sharp sword etc., one should not refrain from seeking mercy, in connection with his son, and then immediately turns his face to the wall and prays for his life. (The wording of the prayer is general, but from the answer one can understand that the prayer was in the context of the illness. One could say that he was answered only regarding part of what he asked, but it is more reasonable to say that “I have heard your prayer” refers to the whole prayer; and from the continuation of the sugya too it seems the prayer was that He would let him live, just as He revived the son of the Shunammite woman.)
As for the question why Isaiah did not give him his daughter, one can simply answer that since Hezekiah was gravely ill and was not destined to recover, it was not relevant; or that Isaiah did not want to give his daughter to a man who was about to die soon.
According to your explanation, I did not understand what changed in Hezekiah’s conception. (Was it the possibility of marrying Isaiah’s daughter, which previously did not exist because he did not want to go to him?)
A few comments:
A. Divine inspiration does not necessarily imply a metaphysical dimension. All the generations of the kings of Judah from Joash king of Judah onward went like this:
Joash – wicked
Amaziah – righteous
Uzziah – wicked
Jotham – righteous
Ahaz – wicked
Hezekiah – righteous
Manasseh – ?
The continuation of the series says “wicked,” and that is what Hezekiah infers.
B. “What have you to do with the hidden matters of the Merciful One?” also means that even if there is a series that proceeds in a certain way, historical conditions may arise that will change the series. Our control over what happens is flawed, and therefore it is preferable to adopt the greedy algorithm rather than trying to plan an optimal course for reality.
C. I understand “the decree has already been decreed” to mean that Hezekiah will die. And therefore his answer is understandable: “Even if a sharp sword rests upon a person’s neck, he should not refrain from seeking mercy.” It cannot be that a decree was decreed that Manasseh would be wicked, since everything is in the hands of Heaven except the fear of Heaven.
D. “I have received a tradition from my father’s house” – the daughters of Lot in the face of the despair over the destruction of Sodom; Tamar in the face of Judah’s despair and that of his sons Er and Onan; Ruth in the face of the despair of Elimelech and his sons Mahlon and Chilion; David in the face of the sin with Bathsheba. The whole idea of the house of David is to stand against despair and overcome it. Therefore they are compared to the moon, which is covered and revealed.
A question:
The rabbi writes that there is value in bringing children into the world. Does the rabbi think that “He formed it to be inhabited” stems from reason, and does it imply a moral obligation upon a person to bring children into the world?
(I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and the rabbi came and handed me [the answer] on a reed.)
With God’s help, 20 Tammuz 5780
Hezekiah had a tradition from his forefathers that “even if a sharp sword rests upon a person’s neck, he should not despair of mercy,” and there is no situation in which hope is gone. But as a responsible king he knew that one must not enter a situation in which the chance is slim and the risk is very great, and therefore it is not worthwhile to bring children into the world in a situation where most chances point to failure.
What Isaiah teaches him is that where there is an explicit commandment of the Torah, the commandment of procreation, one does not make calculations of chances of success and failure. You do what you are commanded, and you are not responsible for success. Isaiah clarifies to the king his obligation according to Torah instruction to act even when the chances of success are slim, and the king, being a practical man, finds practical solutions to increase the chances of success as much as possible – to marry Isaiah’s daughter and to seek mercy.
Rav Kook in Ein Ayah only adds the rationale for why one must follow halakhah even when failure seems almost certain, explaining that halakhah’s decisive demand is based on a longer-range vision, according to which even if now a son who is not good emerges – in a later generation or generations “good offspring will come from him,” a consideration that halakhah uses to explain why it is undesirable to disinherit an unworthy son, and likewise why it is forbidden to rob an apostate: “perhaps good offspring will come from him.”
Halakhah is not, in Rav Kook’s view, an obligation that must be fulfilled as a kind of “head against the wall,” but reflects a deep and long-range system of considerations. Halakhah is the height of the depth of “the hidden matters of the Merciful One.”
Regards, Shatz
By the way, Manasseh ultimately repented. Hezekiah’s hard feeling was correct regarding most of his son’s life. But halakhah takes into account that “at the end of the day” the good wins, and if not Manasseh – then his grandson Josiah will repent and bring the people to peaks of goodness.
Similar to Rav Kook’s words are those of Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman in Ikveta de-Meshicha about the ambassador who was warned by his king not to interfere and not to undress in public. Then at the court of the host king they claimed that the ambassador had an ugly wart on his back and made a bet with him on this for a sum of a million dollars. The ambassador said: For a million dollars that I will bring to my king, it is worth violating his command one time. He undressed and won the million dollars. When he joyfully brought them to his king, the king said to him: You think you brought me profit? I bet the king to whom you were sent a hundred million dollars that he would not succeed in stripping you in public. You brought me a tiny gain and a loss a hundred times greater…
Here too the idea is expressed that “do what you are commanded” is the deepest “the hidden matters of the Merciful One.”
In paragraph 6, line 2
.. and not to undress in public ..
There, line 5
. to whom you were sent on.
To Y.D. – greetings,
Joash was righteous for most of his life, and only at the end of his life stumbled by listening to his officers who bowed to him as an idol. Uzziah too was righteous; even the sin in which he stumbled was because he wanted to serve God in the maximal way by entering the Holy of Holies. This is a “sin of the righteous,” like Nadav and Avihu.
Regards, Shatz
Literary writing, unlike legal writing, is open to interpretation. Aggadah by its very nature is flexible; its role is not to command something, like law, but to stimulate thought and also to inspire. In the trilogy you wrote that the study of aggadah is “Torah in the person,” because both the interpretation of aggadah and the inspiration it gives are person-dependent. Dostoevsky too, in principle, may play for some individual the role of “Torah in the person,” since he may draw from him inspiration and insights.
That said, I’m interested in your view of the following passage from Rav Kook in Chokhmat HaKodesh:
(Sorry, the comment was sent before I finished it.) Here is the passage from Chokhmat HaKodesh:
Holy wisdom is exalted above every wisdom in that it transforms the will and the spiritual disposition of its students, bringing them near to that very exaltedness in which it itself grows strong. This is not so with all worldly wisdoms: although they depict lofty, beautiful, and noble matters, they do not have that operative quality of drawing the very essence of the one who reflects on them toward their own value. In truth, they have no relation at all to the other powers and essential dimensions of a person, except to his intellectual faculty alone. The reason is that all matters of holiness come from the source of the life of all life, from the foundation of life that brings all into being, and the sacred content has the power to bring into being multitudes of creatures without end, to plant the heavens and found the earth, and all the more so to imprint a new and distinct form upon the soul that reflects on it. All secular sciences do not have this power, for they do not renew or generate new things of themselves; rather, they portray and present before the intellect that which already exists in reality, and therefore they also cannot make the one who reflects on them into a new creature, uproot him from the essence of his evil traits, and establish him in a state of new existence, pure and alive in the light of true life, standing forever and ever.
Rav Kook also saw talmudic aggadah as “holy wisdom,” and attributed to it those same qualities of high spiritual activation—“to transform the will and the spiritual disposition of its students, and bring them near to that very exaltedness in which it itself grows strong.” To put it a bit bluntly—even if it is plasticine (flexible and moldable), it is wondrous plasticine, not to say holy, with special powers, and that is its value (despite the fact that, as stated, it is not univocal, and each person learns from it and affirms from within it his own world). In that sense it differs from Dostoevsky, who is completely ordinary plasticine that can be found in any toy store.
Hi,
I have a question that isn’t necessarily related to the column.
The difficulty I identify is the tension (perhaps even contradiction) between the authority of halakhah and the authority of aggadah. I don’t know whether historically Jews were really troubled by this tension, but in principle it exists.
Seemingly, halakhah takes precedence over aggadah. But on the other hand, the basic nature of aggadah is meta-halakhic, and in that respect it actually takes precedence. Practically speaking, this means that one can “bend” halakhot in the name of abstract aggadic principles.
I assume one possible solution to the tension can be found in a third foundation that precedes both halakhah and aggadah, so that both rest upon it. That foundation could be, for example, the Written Torah.
Is that your solution? Are there other solutions?
Thank you.
To our esteemed correspondent,
Indeed. The mistake was mine.
I’m not sure that this continuation is necessarily connected to the give-and-take between them. The give-and-take, simply speaking, is about the son and not about Hezekiah himself.
What changed, in my view, is Isaiah’s rebuke. As I explained, Hezekiah accepted it only partially.
I think this can be resolved even without my comments (I’m not sure I add anything on this point). Punishment is given to the son for his actions, and the future assessment is only an amplifier. In Ishmael’s case, it is about the very possibility of change through choice.
I didn’t understand the distinction between death and the son. Both are prophecies of doom, and both apparently seemed to him subject to change.
The principle emerging from this aggadah is clear and simple: God’s explicit commandment overrides calculations based on the expected “test of outcomes.” The difficulty in applying it to new situations arises where there is complexity.
For example, regarding the attitude toward Zionism, the question arises: what is “do what you are commanded”? On the one hand, there is a halakhic commandment to ascend to the Land of Israel and settle it; on the other hand, there stands a prohibition, also halakhic, against cooperating with transgressors.
The clash is not only between “what ought to be done?” and “what will come out of it?” but within both parameters: does the commandment of settling the Land of Israel prevail, or does the prohibition against “giving a hand to sinners” prevail? Likewise, regarding the forecast of success or failure, there is room for consideration in both directions: will cooperation lead to “influence from within,” or will it lead to the strengthening of secularity?
And just as in a halakhic question, so too in aggadah there are situations in which the complexity of the new situation yields several answers to the question of applying the clear and agreed-upon principle to the complex reality.
Regards, TzShatz
C. Quite apart from what you wrote, even if you are right, it is clear that there was a decree concerning the son. After all, that is what he saw through divine inspiration.
It is quite clear that this stems from the reasoning of the Sages. It is what underlies their understanding of the verse “He formed it to be inhabited” and its centrality in their view. The obligation to have children is at least religious. I’m not sure there is such a moral obligation. Especially in today’s world, where many argue that it cannot sustain significant population growth.
Maybe that’s true. It’s hard for me to judge, because I don’t see how one distinguishes between Dostoevsky and the Bible or aggadah. Do you have any indications that the insights produced from the Bible or aggadah lead to better results, despite the multiplicity of possibilities? Almost by definition this cannot be so (since in fact everyone derives the insights that fit his own outlook). Does it affect the soul in some way? Maybe. It’s hard for me to assess such a thing.
The question is not well defined. Halakhah is binding and aggadah is not. I think that when people bend halakhah, they do not do so in the name of aggadah but in the name of the interpreter’s reasoning (which he may sometimes attach to one aggadah or another).
With God’s help, 20 Tammuz 5780
It occurs to me that a father’s premonition that his son’s education is likely to fail may itself become a “self-fulfilling prophecy” that leads to failure, for even if he does not say it, the son senses the father’s lack of trust.
Perhaps, for the sake of the son’s successful education, it was preferable that he grow up in the light of a giant father who was not physically present. He would absorb the tremendous positive legacy, and not live with a sense of a priori disappointment. Even so, Hezekiah prays that he may live, in the hope that the prayer will bring a solution to the problem, both the medical and the educational one.
Regards, Shatz
Sorry for jumping in with a side comment, but regarding footnote 11: this introduction by the son (not the grandson, as far as I remember—the book isn’t in front of me right now) represents the son, not the author. Anyone who reads the book will see that there is absolutely nothing in common between that introduction and the content of the book.
This introduction was written because the Pri Ha’aretz publishing house, which first published the book (it later also appeared from Kol Mevaser), had to accept as a compromise that Rabbi Teichtal’s Chabad son would write it, since he and his other ultra-Orthodox brothers tried to sabotage publication of the book.
After negotiations, the book came out with that introduction as mere lip service from the publisher’s perspective.
By the way, that same Chabad son, as a classic Chabadnik, is indeed opposed to Zionism and will declare that, but in the same breath he will bless the IDF soldiers in their war against the enemy—and he indeed did so in that same introduction, written during the First Lebanon War. (That passage appears at the end of his introduction in the Pri Ha’aretz edition, but was omitted in the second edition by Kol Mevaser.)
In the writings of Dostoevsky or any other human author, whatever “the poet did not intend” is not part of his intention. By contrast, in a “letter from God,” it is possible that the ambiguity which necessarily yields different interpretations is part of the divine “poet’s intention,” who foresaw the various interpretations and left his words ambiguous in order to make room for a range of understandings.
Regards, Shatz
If I followed the conclusion correctly, there is a hidden assumption that when we accept someone’s view as the conclusion of a sugya, we accept the entire set of considerations that led him there.
In my opinion, there are many halakhic sugyot in which we accept a certain conclusion but not all the considerations that led there, and say that indeed they could have been rejected differently, but in the end they were rejected in this way.
Therefore here, the fact that we accept as the conclusion that a person should not refrain from seeking mercy even if a decree has been decreed makes it possible to accept any conclusion regarding what one does apart from that. That is, it may indeed be that there is no reason to take into account “the hidden matters of the Merciful One,” contrary to Hezekiah’s view, and this does not contradict the rule that one should not refrain from seeking mercy.
Indeed, even in the writing of a human author, the attentive reader may find intentions contained within it without the author having been conscious of them at the time of writing—whether through expressions arising from connotations that lay in the depths of the author’s thought, or through principles that stood behind his words in an intuitive yet undefined form.
Regards, Shatz
And if, in your opinion, the interpreter’s reasoning is plausibly and logically anchored in aggadah—doesn’t that mean that the aggadah itself dictated to halakhah, in this case, its interpretation? And if so, that is roughly like saying that aggadah is more binding than halakhah.
This is probably connected to your columns on religious experience. Is it possible to define a feeling of “exaltation and uplift”?
With God’s help, 20 Tammuz 5780
To Y.D. – greetings,
It seems, as you say, that Hezekiah’s fear of failure in educating his son did not stem only from some mystical feeling, but from a sober view of the condition of the generation.
His grandfather Ahaz “excelled” in his sixteen years of reign in adopting idolatrous cults from the surrounding nations, including Molech worship and replacing the altar in the Temple with the pattern of the idolatrous altar in Damascus (see II Kings chapter 16).
Hezekiah himself returned to the path of his forefathers, but the public atmosphere of openness to adopting and imitating the surrounding idolatrous cults could not be abolished with a wave of the hand, and these tendencies remained present in high society, and their effect on Manasseh was destructive.
Manasseh himself, in his words in a dream to Rav Ashi, explains to him how difficult it was to stand against the “evil inclination for idolatry” in that period, and tells Rav Ashi that had he lived in that time, he too would have run with all his might to worship it.
Even today it is hard to stand against a cultural “trend” that sweeps along the entire world.
Regards, Shatz
I agree in principle, and as I noted, my comments are directed at those who see everything said in the Talmud as carrying authority—both the conclusions and the reasoning.
Well, no, it isn’t. Our reasoning is not really dependent on aggadah; rather, it is attached to it after the fact. That is my whole claim.
The question of Chabad’s attitude toward Zionism is a very interesting one. They are extreme anti-Zionists, but they are in favor of the Jewish people. In the end, this is empty theology, and it is an excellent example of the theological discourse I described in the trilogy (which it set out against).
I don’t know whether it can be defined in words, but the terms seem quite clear to me. But each person gets a feeling of uplift in his own way and from his own sources.
It is possible that divine inspiration about the son being wicked was not subject to change, since it is not clear that prayer helps (for those who hold that it helps…) on behalf of another person that he should repent; and even if it helps, that would only be after he is already here in the world.
By the way, here people of simple faith would agree with the rabbi’s idea, just not for his reason.
The rabbi says that a decision should ignore metaphysical considerations, whereas people of faith would say that the main complaint against Hezekiah is that he made calculations of profit and loss when he should have proceeded with simplicity; and I saw in Rav Elyashiv’s lectures that he explained “What have you to do with the hidden matters of the Merciful One?” as a complaint about the very fact that Hezekiah acted to know what would become of his son through divine inspiration, and not only about the fact that he refrained because he knew.
Regarding Hezekiah’s non-acceptance of Isaiah despite his being a prophet, Hezekiah says to Isaiah, “Finish your prophecy and leave.” I understood the sentence as Hezekiah’s claim that the assertion that the decree cannot be changed is something Isaiah added on the basis of reasoning, not prophecy, and on that point Hezekiah disagrees because of the tradition in his possession.
I assume you are right; otherwise it is hard to understand how the Holy One, blessed be He, would prophesy something incorrect to Isaiah.
That is not a plausible interpretation of the Gemara. For in the end Hezekiah did not adopt simple faith, but rather preceded it with prayer and effort. He did not accept Isaiah’s position as stated.
My question was about the hierarchy of authority. From what you say it sounds as though no one can, even if he wants to, anchor his words in aggadah. Isn’t that a bit strange? After all, there could be a case where the author of the aggadah and its interpreter genuinely and truly see eye to eye.
Perhaps you meant to say that if they really do see eye to eye, then in practice both are appealing to reason in order to interpret halakhah in a new way. If that is the case, then the source of authority for both of them is indeed reason, and not that aggadah is “above” halakhah.
I didn’t write that. Whoever wants can do anything. In practice, in my estimation, people do not derive their philosophical reasoning from aggadah; on the contrary, they interpret it according to their own reasoning.
My question was a principled one, not about reality in practice (which of course is also not 100 percent uniform in all cases). I don’t see how your answer solves the problem (if you agree that such a problem really can arise). Without knowing the sources, I would guess there are examples of thoughtful use of aggadah—that is, of its “authority”—in order to reinterpret halakhah. If I’m right, then not only has the problem not disappeared in principle, but in practice too it crops up from time to time.
Where am I mistaken?
It’s easiest to escape into principles instead of dealing with actual reality. Instead of making principled statements, bring an example and we’ll discuss it. First let’s see that there is a problem, and then we’ll see whether my answer solves it.
By the way, that is precisely the reason why you are not necessarily right that the content of the book contradicts that statement.
With God’s help, 21 Tammuz 5780
And perhaps one may also say regarding fears of incorrect interpretation of the words of Torah that one must fulfill “do what you are commanded,” for we have been commanded: “This book of the Torah shall not depart from your mouth, and you shall meditate upon it day and night, so that then you will make your way successful and then you will act wisely.” These are the “manufacturer’s instructions” for how to use our intellect in order to understand.
Because of the fear of error and bias when a person thinks alone, one must “marry the daughter of the prophet”—connect our intellect to the intellect of the prophets and sages who preceded us, and from this shared connection there is a chance to generate true novelties.
And after the effort and connecting our understanding to the understanding of the sages of the generations, one must seek mercy from the Giver of the Torah, that He favor us with words of truth, and fulfill in us: “Open my eyes, that I may behold wonders from Your Torah.”
Regards, Shatz
Now you say this..? You couldn’t have told me 20 years ago that it’s easiest to escape into principles? If only I had known then…
Your answer seems a bit strange to me. There are 2 layers here: a principled normative layer and a historical factual layer. My question was mainly about the first layer (though not only). Another questioner might ask about something else… I know the expression “make for yourself a rabbi,” but now you’re introducing me to “make for yourself a student”…
If you have an answer on the principled level, let’s examine it. Or are you perhaps claiming that in any case one cannot speak only on the principled level (without a concrete example)?
I admitted in advance that I’m not expert in the material, so I am consulting someone knowledgeable like you, who can provide factual information: are there such examples or not? If there aren’t, at least we’re left with some sort of principled insight. If there are—our situation is even better.
Indeed, it seems to me that my question is not only “legitimate” but even called for from the historical-factual standpoint. One may assume that the historical influence of aggadic literature is very significant, and therefore it is reasonable to assume that it also influences the conception and interpretation of halakhah. An example of this—which I’m not sure is relevant (again because of my ignorance in this area)—is perhaps Rav Kook’s attitude toward aggadah and his attempt, if I understood him correctly, to “rehabilitate” its status. I don’t know whether he himself “bent” halakhot in light of aggadah, but perhaps he thought that this is the correct and reasonable way to proceed (and perhaps it really is).
Better late than never.
Hmmm….
The rule is: “Every diagnosis has its dosage.” You don’t perform surgery for a runny nose. A vision through divine inspiration is not grounds for canceling a positive Torah commandment. But symbolic effort to make a match with Isaiah—that’s a good idea.
Poor Isaiah paid compound interest in the end. If only he had known that Manasseh was destined to saw him slowly in half while he was stuck inside a tree and unable to move, I guess he would have thought twice about this whole business of the eternal chain, the continuity of the monarchy, the eternity of Israel, etc. etc. And the matter of his death itself is really astonishing: once a miracle was already done for him and he was swallowed into a tree, couldn’t Heaven have hidden his fringes too??? That’s really wicked…
Doron, a common example of influence is the Rosh’s ruling permitting tzitzit strings made by a woman, contrary to Rabbenu Tam, who prohibits it. Rabbenu Tam learns this from the prohibition against a woman writing tefillin, because she is not obligated in laying tefillin, and from there extends it also to tzitzit. The Rosh permits it from a midrash about the wife of Rabbi Hanina ben Dosa, who is destined to make tekhelet tzitziyot for the righteous in the World to Come.
If that is what Manasseh his grandson did to him, imagine what would have happened if the king hadn’t been his grandson.
With God’s help, 21 Tammuz 5780
To Josef Shveik, one of the sages of Czechia – greetings,
Why, your countryman, the Maharal of Prague, explains: “And know that what was swallowed into the cedar—all this is an intellectual matter, for God was concealing Isaiah, for how could a prophet like Isaiah not have protection from the Blessed God? Therefore it says that he was swallowed into a cedar, meaning the strength of his protection. Only because of the sin of saying, ‘I dwell among a people of unclean lips,’ was this strength removed from him, and it departed from him on the side of the mouth…” (Chiddushei Aggadot, Yevamot 49b)
In short:
The cedar symbolizes the strength of God’s protection over His prophet, but he had a “weak point”: lack of trust in the people of Israel, expressed in the statement, “I dwell among a people of unclean lips.” A prophet of God must believe not only in God, but also in his people’s capacity for improvement.
Regards, Shatz
This phenomenon of lack of trust in the chances of that generation’s repair is also expressed in Hezekiah’s fear of marrying and begetting children out of the nearly certain feeling that the child to be born would turn out badly.
Paragraph 1, line 1
… the Maharal of Prague explains: …
And perhaps the “being swallowed in the cedar” is a metaphor for being subsumed within the people of Israel, as in Isaiah’s words: “As the days of a tree shall be the days of My people” (65:22),
And by this principle the answer is given to Manasseh’s claims—from “for man shall not see Me and live,” from “the number of your days I will fulfill,” and from “whenever they call upon Him.”
For the individual person there is no complete divine revelation, nor is he promised that his days will be full and that God will always answer him fully. Only the nation has a promise of full divine revelation and continual cleaving to its God. The individual’s security depends on the extent to which he is “swallowed into the cedar,” the extent to which he is connected to the collective.
Regards, Shatz
Shveik, thank you.
I assume our host on his website also knows this example and could easily have supplied it to me. One of two things: either he disagrees with you that this reflects the bending of halakhah in the name of aggadah, or he actually agrees, but it doesn’t fit the schema he already holds.
A different version of the story of Isaiah’s killing by Manasseh appears in the apocryphal book The Ascension of Isaiah. See the article by Yonah Arazi, “The Killing of Isaiah by Manasseh,” on the Portal HaDaf HaYomi, Yevamot 49b.
Regards, Shatz
In recent generations, biblical critics have “sawn Isaiah in half” 🙂
Oy vey iz mir!!!! The description there is really graphic!
This is really not the example we are dealing with here. This is deriving from aggadah as incidental testimony, not learning a philosophical principle from aggadah and applying it to halakhah. A person has no a priori principles on the question whether a woman, who is not included in the commandment, can prepare it or not. That is a halakhic question, and in that aggadah one sees that she can.
So Shveik is mistaken?
Remarkable indeed!! Because if this is the historical factual reality (aggadah never in fact influenced halakhah in practice), then we have here an almost inconceivable social and psychological phenomenon. For hundreds or thousands of years, halakhic sages have also occupied themselves with aggadah (which they certainly value very highly and perhaps even regard as “sacred writings”), but in practice
they were never influenced by it.. Even when it comes to those same aggadot that themselves relate to Torah and halakhah, nothing, zero influence. Apparently the sages were not only wise but also immune. Quite enviable.
Perhaps Hezekiah’s traumatic fear that his son would follow the path of his father Ahaz led him to name his son “Manasseh,” in the hope that “God has made me forget … and all my father’s house” would be fulfilled in him. Sadly, Manasseh remembered his grandfather and went in his idolatrous path, but unlike his grandfather, Manasseh merited to repent.
Regards, Shatz
And this, with God’s help, explains why Hezekiah, a glorious offshoot of a dynasty of Judean kings in whose theophoric names the divine name figures either as a prefix or suffix (Jehoshaphat, Jehoram, Ahaziah, Jehoash, Amaziah, Uzziah, Jotham, —Ahaz—, Hezekiah, —Manasseh—), did not call his son “Manassehyahu” or “Yeho-menash” (or Aharonyahu, or Yokhbir), but “Manasseh,” without God’s name, like his father Ahaz. Rather, that righteous man knew that this Manasseh was not worthy to have His exalted name called upon him, but that his law was like that of Ahaz, cast out from attachment to the inheritance of God—children are a reward according to reason.
Perhaps when Hezekiah named his son “Manasseh,” he had before his eyes Manasseh son of Joseph, who managed to preserve the spirit of the house of Jacob even while alone within the idolatrous and permissive atmosphere of Egypt. And this is the message Hezekiah conveys to his son: “Be like Manasseh son of Joseph, who managed to hold fast to his faith even in the midst of Egypt.”
Regards, Shatz
And regarding the theophoric prefixes and suffixes (to Where Is Popper) –
Jotham too called his son “Ahaz,” without a theophoric prefix or suffix. Perhaps because he saw what came of “Ahaziah” son of Jehoram and Athaliah, who clung to the ways of the house of Ahab despite the triple “theophory” of his own name and those of his parents.
And therefore perhaps Jotham was signaling to his son: “Do not rely on God to hold onto you.” Take full responsibility for yourself and “hold yourself with your own hands” with all your strength, for the matter depends only on you.
For “Abraham,” “Isaac,” “Jacob,” “Moses,” “Aaron,” “David,” “Solomon,” Gad the seer, Nathan the prophet, and Asa king of Judah also attained greatness through the power of their determined decision: “Everything is in the hands of Heaven except the fear of Heaven.”
First, know that some have raised objections regarding wrapping this matter of Amon and Manasseh—sons after sons to their royal fathers—in bundles of vine-shoots. And even according to your view I wonder: was Hezekiah’s house like Pharaoh’s house, where every little boy and girl was expert in impurity and purity? And one must further ask: why Manasseh and not Ephraim? (And do not say: a donkey in its stall—for he is Issachar from the sons of Leah, and from Rachel מלאה we do not derive; and besides, he should have put Ephraim before Manasseh, like Jacob.) Especially since half the tribe of Manasseh preferred the pleasures of this world over entering the holy promised land, whereas Ephraim, on the contrary, strove with all their might to risk themselves in battle for the good of the nation and the land, and therefore quarreled with Gideon. Rather, certainly etc., and ponder it well.
With God’s help, 23 Tammuz 5780
To Popper – greetings,
Manasseh son of Hezekiah grew up in the house of the king of Judah, not in Pharaoh’s house, but the Jewish high society around him was frighteningly open to the idolatrous cultural influences of the surroundings.
The decades of the influence of the house of Ahab in the court of the kingdom of Judah, and the imprint of the sixteen years of the idolatrous reforms of his grandfather Ahaz, left no easy mark on the atmosphere that prevailed among the nobles and officers of Judah.
If a righteous king like Joash, disciple of Jehoiada the prophet, was seduced by the counsel of his officers to declare himself a god (as was customary in the courts of neighboring kings), then a boy who would be twelve years old at his father’s death was certainly at high risk of following what was accepted in the “high society” around him.
Therefore I suggested that the name “Manasseh” was meant to remind him of Manasseh son of Joseph, who preserved his “Jacob-ness” even as a solitary child growing up in an idolatrous and permissive Egyptian society.
And as I mentioned above (in response to Y.D.), Manasseh himself testifies in his words to Rav Ashi how difficult it was to stand against the “evil inclination for idolatry” in that generation. There is no simple price to pay for an “open society” 🙂
Regards, Shatz
Indeed, the correction of Manasseh son of Hezekiah was hinted at in Ephraim’s name: “For God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction”—precisely while captive and tormented, he remembered the Lord his God and returned to Him.
Regards, Shatz
Rabbi, what about “If one forbade himself benefit from his fellow, the vow is released only in his presence,” which Rabbenu Tam explains there in the sugya in Nedarim as applying specifically when one vowed to his fellow because of a favor the latter did for him, like Zedekiah’s oath to Nebuchadnezzar as brought later in the sugya. But if it was not because of a favor done for him, it need not specifically be in his presence—and he learned this from the midrash in Sotah that Pharaoh told Joseph to violate his vow to Jacob even not in his presence. It seems that he derives a philosophical principle from the midrashim and applies it to halakhah.
Amaziah too ends as a sinner (wicked?), similar to Joash and Uzziah. He worships the gods of Edom and threatens the prophet who rebukes him (II Chronicles 25:14–16). Perhaps one can say that Hezekiah feared the high probability that a wicked son would emerge, even though in practice Manasseh differs from all the kings who ended as sinners—he begins as a sinner and ends as a penitent.
A few comments:
A. From the aggadah it certainly seems that Isaiah demands that Hezekiah conduct himself simply according to halakhah, without metaphysical considerations; but trying to attribute to Isaiah a completely realistic outlook is rather far-fetched. Throughout entire chapters of his book, Isaiah criticizes the conduct of the people of his generation, who instead of trusting in God put their trust in realist policies such as military strengthening, fortification, and making alliances with regional powers. Thus, for example, Isaiah’s demand of King Ahaz seems extremely unrealistic (chapter 7). So true, here we are specifically speaking of a time when there is a certain prophecy, and still, it seemed to me appropriate to qualify the tone a bit..
B. Regarding Rav Kook, his words seem puzzling to me. Manasseh was not just some passing episode. Scripture attributes the decree of destruction to his sins, and although his grandson Josiah was an especially righteous king, he did not succeed in annulling the decree. So in practice, Manasseh indeed sealed the fate of the Davidic monarchy. In the Second Temple period there were indeed patriarchs from the house of David, but there were no more kings, because of the sins of Manasseh.
C. The comparison to King Josiah, Hezekiah’s great-grandson, is interesting. Like Hezekiah, Josiah too tries to fight a divine decree—the prophecy of destruction because of the sins of Manasseh—and insists on struggling against it even against prophetic instruction, from Huldah the prophetess, that the decree is sealed and irreversible. Like Hezekiah, he too fails. Still, there does not seem to be a halakhic dilemma there.
To Dvir – greetings,
Reliance on Egypt always proved a futile adventure. Egypt always turned out to be “a staff of reed to the house of Israel,” and reliance on Egypt’s help in the struggle against the northern empires—Aram, Assyria, and Babylonia—would always end in bitter disappointment.
Regards, Shatz
Isaiah also criticizes Hezekiah for his attempt to make an alliance with the “rising power,” Merodach-baladan king of Babylon, and prophesies to Hezekiah that cooperation with Babylon will lead to subjugation to it.
Alongside his opposition to the attempts of the kingdom of Judah to meddle in “world politics,” Isaiah encourages the kings of Judah in times of siege that came upon Judah as a result of its entering into confrontation with the great powers, both in the days of Ahaz and in the days of Hezekiah, and promises that those besieging Jerusalem will not succeed.
It seems that Isaiah guides the kingdom of Judah according to the saying of the Sages: “Eat onions and sit in the shade”: focus on inward spiritual and social repair, and do not get entangled in attempts to “run the world.”
This, according to Isaiah, will happen in the future to come—not by force of arms, but by the power of spiritual superiority, when all the nations recognize that spiritual superiority and stream to the mountain of the Lord and to the house of the God of Jacob to learn His ways and create a world of peace.
Regards, Shatz
Two prophets envisioned, close to the entry into the Land, the vision of Israel’s world hegemony. Balaam, whose “power is in his mouth,” foresees specifically a forceful conquest: “He shall crush the corners of Moab and break down all the children of Seth.” By contrast, Moses, who has “receipts” for military victory over Amalek, Midian, Sihon, and Og, prophesies specifically a spiritual conquest: “They shall call peoples to the mountain; there they shall offer righteous sacrifices.”
Maimonides combines the two visions in Hilchot Melakhim. Against the nearby enemies, the Messiah king will have to fight and win, but his universal influence will be through ways of peace and spiritual influence. See the article by Rabbi Eliyahu Galil, “On the Way to Monotheism,” on the “Mussaf Shabbat – Makor Rishon” website, and the parallels I noted there in the words of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov and Rav Kook.
Regards, Shlatz [peace as opposed to army 🙂
If a king dies, his widow is forbidden to everyone forever; they remain bound widows all their lives. [Gemara in Sanhedrin.] The prophet is certain that he will die, since that is the prophecy.
Would he be a sucker to give Hezekiah his daughter, and an hour after the wedding the king dies, and his daughter becomes a living widow for the rest of her life?
So he does not give his daughter, and not at all because of what will be with the son…
And my and your merit is that he should live. The prophet does not believe he will live. He is not factoring in a son at all. And so too in Hezekiah’s prayer, and so too in the Holy One’s answer. Everything is only about the life of the king, not at all about the son.
The whole discussion of what will happen with the son does not begin from the prophet’s side. It simply starts from: you are slated to die. Therefore he does not give his daughter.
Where do all these calculations begin that it is about the son?
Maybe the whole conception is mistaken.
I also didn’t understand: the king must specifically be from the house of David and from the seed of Solomon [excluding Jesus…], that is what Maimonides writes. I didn’t understand Rav Kook. Would the Davidic monarchy simply be canceled? Why? There are other descendants of the house of David, and from them the monarchy would continue…
I wrote the considerations for why I think this is about the son. By the way, in Ein Yaakov and in the Bach’s glosses it appears that Isaiah did in the end give him his daughter, and from them came Manasseh and Rabshakeh.
The second question is indeed a good one. Perhaps there is an advantage to a descendant from the original royal house, or an advantage to direct patrilineal descent.
With God’s help, Rosh Chodesh Av 5780
The descendants of the house of David underwent several severe “thinnings out” in the generations before Hezekiah. Athaliah killed all the king’s sons, and only Joash survived. At the end of Joash’s days, the army of Aram came up against Jerusalem and “destroyed all the princes of the people” (II Chronicles 24). Likewise, at the end of Amaziah’s days, Joash king of Israel raided Jerusalem and took “hostages” to Samaria, who may have remained there until the destruction of the kingdom of Israel and its exile by Assyria.
And as I mentioned above, even among those who remained in Judah, and especially among the people of “high society,” the idolatrous culture of the surrounding kingdoms spread; particularly in the days of Ahaz. So finding a suitable heir to the Davidic monarchy was no simple matter, and someone who grew up on the knees of the righteous Hezekiah offers hope that even if he fails, he will ultimately find the way back.
Regards, Shatz
The mother of Manasseh, unlike those of the other kings, is not identified by her father’s name or her place, but only by her personal name, Hephzibah—a name mentioned in Isaiah’s prophecies of consolation as a name for Jerusalem: “You shall no more be termed Forsaken, and your land shall no more be termed Desolate; but you shall be called Hephzibah… for the Lord delights in you” (Isaiah 62:4).
Isaiah’s way of giving his children names expressing consolation is also reflected in the name of his son “Shear-jashub,” in line with his prophecy: “A remnant shall return, the remnant of Jacob, to the Mighty God.” It seems that the author of the Book of Kings refrained from mentioning the father’s name of “Hephzibah” out of respect for her father, the prophet Isaiah.
Regards, Shatz
Besides the concern noted by Mrs. Naomi Fox, that his daughter would remain a “living widow” all her life as “the widow of a king,” there was also the great concern that his daughter would have to see her son go astray and suffer the “foolish son is the grief of his mother”; this is not a situation in which a loving father would want to “privilege” his daughter.
Even if the father, as a prophet, is willing to place himself in the unpleasant position of “I gave my back to the smiters and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair; I hid not my face from shame and spitting,” to place the daughter in the suffering of being mother to a rebellious son? What has the daughter done to deserve it?
An additional danger that may grow for the prophet from an unworthy grandson is that the grandson may invoke the great grandfather in order to derive support from him for his corrupt deeds. One can always “saw out” some statement of the grandfather, detach it from its context, thereby distort it, and even take it in the opposite direction, as the Christians did from Isaiah’s prophecies as a tanna de-mesaye’a for “their messiah.”
The merit of father and mother did not protect Manasseh from stumbling, but presumably the images of his father and mother, their morality, their teaching, their practices, and their tears stood before the son’s eyes, and they were what charted for him, at the “moment of truth,” the path back.
Regards, Shatz
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… and thereby distort it…
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Correction
🙂
Regards, Shatz
Shavua tov! I would be glad to ask two principled questions:
A. If there is deterministic necessity that he will have such a son, then how can he cancel it by not begetting him?
Or phrased differently: after all, prophetic knowledge comes, as it were, because from the standpoint of prophecy time has no significance (assuming that is the answer to Maimonides), and if so how can it be canceled? (And similarly the angels’ claim regarding Hagar’s prayer for Ishmael is difficult.)
B. How can it be decreed in advance that he will have a wicked son? What about his free choice?
A. It may be that the necessity was that if a son were born to him, he would be wicked. But there was no necessity that a son had to be born. Something similar appears in Moses’ prophecy, “and he turned this way and that way and saw that there was no man,” where it also seems he prophesied a hypothetical prophecy: even if a son comes from him, he will not convert. In the end he died and no son came from him at all.
B. Perhaps he saw through divine inspiration that this is what the son would choose. Alternatively, the son indeed would lack free choice.
You’re right: one cannot change a position on the basis of an aggadic passage. And yet here you managed to change my position because of an aggadic passage…