On Mezuzot and Their Influence (Column 334)
With wishes for a full and speedy recovery to Racheli
A few weeks ago, the daughter of an acquaintance of mine who was crossing the street was hit by a car whose driver was careless. She was hospitalized for complex surgeries and, to this day, suffers severe pain and is undergoing a difficult rehabilitation process. The driver who hit her, apparently racked with guilt, sent her a message—which he said he received from some rabbi—that she should check the mezuzot in her home, since that might be the reason she was injured (“tried and tested”). I thought the discussion that followed between us is worth a column.
Initial reaction
This direct, transcendent, prophetic-style message aroused considerable anger in its recipients, and understandably so. The driver, who acted carelessly and brought about bitter and painful consequences (we should understand that this is literally a change to one’s entire life course in a single sudden moment), is placing—however indirectly—the responsibility on the victim instead of taking it upon himself. I’ve mentioned here more than once a quip I once heard attributed to R. Chaim Kanievsky. A yeshiva student whose car was stolen asked him what he should correct in his character traits and deeds so that his car wouldn’t be stolen again, and R. Chaim replied that he should correct his car lock and, even more so, his diligence in using it. In our case, rather than recommending that the victim check her mezuzot, it would be better for him to check his own driving habits and improve them.
That is the instinctive and obvious response to such a suggestion. But when I heard about it, I told her that I see the driver’s proposal in a less negative light. First, I assume he did this with good intentions. His heart smites him for what he caused, and he feels helpless. He has no other way to fix what happened through his fault, so he tries to help in various ways, even if strange. Perhaps there’s a lack of tact here, but one can understand where it’s coming from (though of course it’s easy for me to offer assessments, advice, and recommendations, and to work on someone else’s character. I’m standing on the sidelines and was not harmed).
I’d like to examine the matter from several angles, on two principled levels: 1) to discuss the attitude toward such a proposal under the hypothetical assumption that checking mezuzot does in fact help; 2) to discuss whether it truly helps.
Diagnosis and assistance
What would we say if the driver suggested to the victim treatment methods (go to such-and-such a doctor, take such-and-such a medication, and the like)? I assume some annoyance would also arise here, but it would seem more reasonable to us. In that case, there’s no blaming the victim but rather an attempt to help her as he understands it. Yet the suggestion to check mezuzot can also be seen that way. In his view, a flaw in a mezuzah could have caused the accident, and at the same time fixing it could apparently also aid in recovery.
Beyond that, even if fixing the mezuzah is only a diagnosis of the reasons for the injury and not a means of repair, wouldn’t it be appropriate for a driver who truly thinks so to raise the matter with the victim? If that is indeed what he believes caused the accident, it’s worth helping her prevent future accidents—and perhaps along the way also help her fulfill the mitzvah of mezuzah properly (a non-kosher mezuzah, even if it causes nothing, still entails neglecting a positive commandment).
Consider a person who genuinely believes a defect in the mezuzah is what caused the accident. Would we expect him not to raise this suggestion? For the sake of discussion, let’s assume he does so after apologizing and without accusations (after all, the defect could certainly be the result of a mistake and likely wasn’t the victim’s fault). Why is this “blaming the victim”? Perhaps it somewhat shifts blame away from him (and even that isn’t really correct in traditional thinking, which sees these as two independent planes—though in my view that’s a logical folly), but it certainly doesn’t lay blame on her. Beyond that, this is a suggestion that might help improve the situation going forward. Isn’t it the obligation of the one who caused the whole affair to try to help repair it and prevent similar incidents in the future?
Now let’s consider other statements. If the driver had told the victim that she didn’t exercise enough, smoked cigarettes, or didn’t eat a healthy diet, and therefore her injury was so severe—would that be a problematic statement? Clearly such statements are infuriating. Moreover, here there is indeed blaming her. But on the other hand, on the assumption that it’s true, would we expect him not to say it? People tend to be offended by such statements, but there isn’t much logic in that (no one is perfect. See Column 218). The more important question is whether these statements are true or not. If they are, why not say them—for both the past and the future? Again, one could recommend refraining from saying something that won’t be received well, certainly if it’s hurtful and the statement is unlikely to help. But I am considering the principled matter: is there any flaw in the statement itself? It seems the opposite is the case—there’s even an obligation to say it. Incidentally, I hope that the discussion I’m conducting here does not itself cause such hurt.
Blaming the victim
Another comment regarding blaming the victim: in a hypothetical case where the victim really is at fault, is it forbidden for the perpetrator to blame them? Again, we can talk about tact and the duty not to hurt them further after they’ve already been harmed, but in principle I see no flaw in this. On the contrary, there’s a duty of “surely reprove your fellow.”
Usually, however, the picture isn’t black-and-white. In many cases the perpetrator is at fault, but the victim also bears contributory fault (this apparently wasn’t the case here, but as noted I’m discussing the principle). In such a situation, does the mere fact that someone was harmed and that the perpetrator is at fault prohibit us from also blaming the victim? I’ve written here in the past about arguments against blaming the victim. For example, in cases of rape and harassment, claims arise that part of the cause is revealing women’s clothing. Clearly in such cases the perpetrator is at fault and no one is trying to absolve him. Still, does the fact that the woman is the one harmed mean it’s forbidden to attribute contributory fault to women? In my view, in some cases they do bear contributory fault, and it is certainly fitting to mention it. And even if not, it’s worth arguing about it rather than forbidding the expression of the claim.
This applies in particular to social phenomena, where there is an inherent gap between the question of fault in the specific case and societal processes. I can say that the perpetrator is at fault and should be punished severely, and at the same time propose a policy that women dress more modestly so that people with low thresholds for arousal or with problematic self-control won’t be led to harm them. There’s a difference between the claim that the perpetrator isn’t at fault and the claim that there’s a segment of the public that might come to such acts if women walk around in immodest dress. There’s no contradiction between the demand that a person restrain himself and the claim that it’s worthwhile to prevent such events in advance.
The same is true in cases of provocation. The legal system also recognizes provocation as an argument for reducing blame and punishment. Even if the perpetrator is at fault, if the victim provoked him, that lessens his guilt. Moreover, when a person provokes an entire public, it’s reasonable that within that public there will be a few with less self-control who might come to problematic actions. Again, this doesn’t absolve any of them of responsibility for their actions, and yet society should formulate policy that also includes prevention. Feminist discourse forbids raising such arguments, but I’ve expressed my view on political correctness here more than once. In my eyes it’s part of the problem, not part of the solution. When such theses and claims are banned, public debate and policy are lacking, and then we all pay the price. And again, even if it’s not true, it’s still important to discuss it.
In Column 43 I cited as an example the ban on Jews ascending and praying on the Temple Mount—a matter that somehow slips under the radar of our local champions of human rights. In that context, Ariel Sharon’s ascent to the Mount is still considered a provocation, and many still consider him responsible for the intifada that broke out afterward. The fact that Arabs rioted and murdered doesn’t really interest them. Ariel Sharon the provocateur is the sole culprit. There, for some reason, people are unwilling to blame the violent murderer and attribute everything to provocation. Again, even if someone thinks Ariel Sharon was a provocateur and should not have been allowed to ascend the Mount, blaming him for what happened seems to me entirely equivalent to blaming women’s clothing for acts of rape. In both cases, the claim is that the victim bears contributory fault, but that doesn’t remove guilt from the perpetrator. Both claims are true, and both should be on the table. Moreover, in my personal view, a person’s right to pray anywhere he wishes so long as he’s not disturbing others is far more natural and self-evident than the right of women to wear whatever they like anywhere. The fact is that there is a ban on walking naked in the street and most of the public agrees to that (though even that is sometimes breached nowadays. I assume that too is only a matter of time).
Of course, the question of boundaries can arise here. To what extent is it appropriate to limit potential victims so that they won’t be harmed? Where is the line between illegitimate victim-blaming and demands made of the perpetrator, and legitimate pointing to contributory fault? I won’t get into that, but you can see a bit about it here.
Guilt versus responsibility
Another point that arises in our context is the distinction between guilt and responsibility, which I discussed in Columns 61, 67, and many others (see Column 283 for references to several of them). There are situations in which a person is not guilty but does bear responsibility for what happens because of them. For example, a country like the Soviet Union, where millions of citizens were captive under a tyrannical regime, cannot place all responsibility for its deeds on the regime. Without the citizens it wouldn’t have happened. I argued there that beyond the question of guilt, the citizens bear responsibility for what happens because they acquiesce to the situation—even if any reasonable person in such circumstances would behave similarly.
In our matter, this comes up in the context of driving on the road. We often see drivers who drive recklessly and yet not every time do events occur that cause injury to people or property. There are also drivers who don’t break the law or who drive relatively reasonably (even if somewhat beyond legal limits), as most of us do, and nothing happens. Do we blame them for anything? If their behavior is reasonable—then no.[1] Consider a driver traveling 100 km/h on a highway where the limit is 90. If nothing happened, no one thinks to blame him. But if he caused an accident and injuries to people or property, the responsibility lies with him. That is, our attitude toward a person is determined not only by their behavior but also by the consequences that result from it. Yet as far as the person’s guilt is concerned, it makes no difference whether there were consequences. His lawbreaking is the same in both cases. And still, the responsibility placed upon him differs in the two scenarios.
Let us assume for the sake of discussion that the driver who hit that victim wasn’t driving in a highly unusual manner. I suspect many of us do similar things, though usually without injuries. That of course lessens his degree of guilt, though the responsibility remains on his shoulders. In such cases there is some measure of wrongdoing and guilt, but it’s a guilt found in any reasonable person. Yet there are cases in which there’s no guilt at all, and still we impose responsibility. For example, the case of a minor or a person lacking reason who is “pursuing” (e.g., opening fire in the street). They lack understanding and don’t grasp the problematic nature of their act, so they have no guilt. But responsibility is placed upon them nonetheless, and by its force we kill them (the law of a “rodef,” a pursuer) to prevent the harm they might cause. In many cases the responsibility to prevent the consequences that flow from your actions rests upon you even if you bear no guilt. Again, I won’t enter here into the question of boundaries and criteria (when lack of guilt leads to lack of responsibility, and when there can be responsibility without guilt).[2]
From such a perspective, one can perhaps understand the offending driver, even if we don’t remove responsibility for his deeds. My claim is that imposing responsibility is certainly justified, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I view him as wicked. As a victim, it’s naturally hard for me to think that I myself occasionally do such things (and fortunately so far without severe consequences), but I think this perspective is correct. If that driver did nothing extremely aberrant, the fact that harm occurred doesn’t increase his guilt; it only places responsibility for the consequences upon him. Again, psychologically, for the victim and their relatives it’s hard to see things this way, but essentially this is the right view.[3]
We now arrive at the discussion about the proposal itself to check mezuzot.
Is a mezuzah even relevant?
All the arguments I’ve raised thus far indicate that we can view the offending driver’s suggestion to check mezuzot with less severity. He’s not such a great villain (though of course responsible for the consequences of his acts). His intention was likely positive, and in his view this proposal might indeed help. So why does it still sound so infuriating?
In my opinion, it’s hard to separate this from the question of whether checking mezuzot actually helps. My sense is that underlying the resentment is the assumption (which I fully share, of course) that this is a foolish suggestion with no substance. Again, I assume the driver himself believed it had substance and raised it in good faith, believing it to be helpful—but the anger toward him is also understandable: you killed and also inherit?! You drove carelessly and now you also offer foolish suggestions? Careless and thoughtless! This resentment reflects a theological view that mezuzot have no relevance to the harms and troubles that befall us, or to our fate in general.
I won’t re-enter here the exhausting discussions about providence, mysticism, deviations from the laws of nature, and so forth. We’ve had our fill. Nor do I intend to delve into sources regarding the segulot of the mezuzah (“Shomer Daltot Yisrael”—“Guardian of Israel’s Doors”). I only wish to point out that, to the best of my assessment, most readers would share the resentment I described toward this suggestion, which, in candid conversation, indicates that they don’t really believe mezuzot change anything regarding our fate.
I say this because the mantras we habitually recite about divine assistance and individual providence, and about everything that happens being decreed from above—and likewise that mezuzot determine our fate—are mantras spoken lip-service only. I don’t assume people who say them are usually lying. In my assessment they live in denial and self-deception. We’ve grown accustomed to the principles of faith in which we were educated and feel the need to identify with them. So we say them—sometimes out of a feeling of conviction and sometimes out of frustration that, deep down, we don’t really believe all that (a weakness of faith and the counsel of the evil inclination); but the truth is that we really don’t believe it.
In the second book of my trilogy, and also several times here on the site, I noted that beyond arguments against individual providence and mystical influence of mitzvot, there’s also the sense that people don’t actually believe it (as the song goes: “And he thinks that children believe this”—Shalom Hanoch, “Sham Sham”). I pointed out that God-fearing physicians do not conduct medical research differently from their atheist colleagues. They don’t control for the influence of righteousness and mitzvot. Nor do religious members of an investigative committee into a plane crash, a failed military operation, or a wounded soldier. In a synagogue conversation they’ll explain that it was punishment for our behavior, but in the field, when they must find the cause of the crash or disease, they attribute it to natural laws and natural occurrences. COVID is explained by natural causes and treated by medical means, yet in synagogues you’ll hear learned theological explanations for the outbreak of the plague, heaven forfend.
When people do develop some awareness of this dissonance, a broad apologetic arises that speaks of “two planes” (see my book That Which Is and That Which Is Not, Gate Four)—that one can speak of a natural cause and, alongside it, a theological cause. These are baseless notions, as I’ve explained many times, and I won’t return to them here. Alongside this come admonitions about defects in fear of Heaven and in faith, and also pangs of conscience (that one feels toward oneself for doubting the hand of God and lacking perfect faith). Instead, I keep proposing a straighter path: simply acknowledge that we don’t believe this, and the reason is likely that our intuition tells us it’s just not true. This is not a flaw in faith nor a weakness and surrender to the inclination and to heresy that pulls us in, but rather a recognition of the facts and of my perceptions about them.
Back to the driver and the mezuzot
The main problem I see in the driver’s proposal to check mezuzot (incidentally, why not check his own mezuzot? He too has entered trouble!) is not a problem of tact. It’s a problem of weakness of mind. I told my acquaintance that, in my estimation, it may be precisely the frustration and helplessness he feels that lead him to offer suggestions he himself may not truly believe. A person who has caused harm and feels he has no way to help or fix it feels frustration and helplessness, and such feelings can lead him to adopt strange notions and suggestions, even if he himself doesn’t really believe them.
On mantras and well-wishes
Speaking of mantra-reciting, I’m reminded of various memes circulating these days on the net regarding COVID. Last year we surely wished all our friends a good and sweet year. Then, as every year, we spoke of “may the old year and its curses end, and may the new year and its blessings begin.” The past year and its blessings did not particularly impress me. If those are the year’s blessings, I prefer last year’s curses (who even remembers them?!). This led me (and also Dror Rafael) to think again about the meaning of these well-wishes.
I know these are wishes, not prophecies. There’s no principled problem with wishing people—to them and to us—a good year; and even if it doesn’t materialize, there’s no problem trying and wishing again (hoping that next year it will). Still, I have a sense of mantra-reciting that deserves further scrutiny. In any case, if there are those who believe that prayers and wishes truly determine our fate for the coming year (the Day of Judgment), I’d suggest they think again. It seems to me a more realistic view of these days sees them as days of soul-searching and acceptance of God’s kingship and our obligation to it, not the determination of our fate for the coming year (see Columns 27 and 241).
The way to deal with COVID is to find a vaccine (and also to wear masks). Likewise, the way to prevent traffic accidents and injuries is to drive carefully—not to check mezuzot. For all of us to note.
[1] See a note on this in my article on Halacha and reality.
[2] I think one of the criteria is the victim’s guilt. If the victim bears no guilt at all, then even if the perpetrator is not guilty, the responsibility to prevent harm still rests upon him. This is the case of a minor “pursuer.” If the victim could have defended themselves, perhaps there’s more room to remove responsibility from the perpetrator in the absence of guilt.
[3] This is why some early authorities hold that the pursued person themself is not obligated to save themself by inflicting non-lethal harm on the pursuer. If Reuven pursues Shimon, Levi is commanded to kill Reuven. But if Shimon can be saved without killing Reuven (he can be saved by injuring one of his limbs), then it is forbidden to kill him. However, the pursued person is in a state of self-defense, and in that state it’s hard to demand refined judgment of them. Therefore, those authorities hold that the pursued person may kill the pursuer even when it’s possible to be saved by non-lethal injury. In our matter, one can understand the victim’s anger at the perpetrator, yet there is room to raise arguments that tip the scales in his favor (and again, I, standing on the sidelines, of course find it easier to do so).
Discussion
You answered yourself. Postmodernism can sometimes raise correct claims.
But beyond that, you have a fundamental misunderstanding. This was not an accusation but a charitable interpretation. I certainly know that there are people who believe this (and he thinks children believe this), but to the same degree it is possible that this is an action born of frustration and helplessness.
The tactlessness and the other claims I raised in the first part strengthen the possibility that the suggestion does not stem from real belief in mezuzot. But as stated, neither you nor I know what he thinks.
The theology here is less important, in my view, since even the 'reasonable' suggestions from your perspective (to maintain one's health better, or say, to maintain the car better—if this were about a car and not a pedestrian) are tactless when they are said by the driver who hit her. This is not his time to give advice; it is really a case of one immersing in a ritual bath while holding a creeping thing in his hand (like that coronavirus patient who immersed in a mikveh, about whom it was said—not one who immerses while holding a creeping thing in his hand, but one who immerses while he himself is a creeping thing). I would not go overboard; I assume this is a reasonable person who made a mistake. But—one does not lecture a person at his time of distress, and one does not give him advice when one is the cause of that distress. To me, that is the ABC of basic human behavior. You hurt someone? Stand in the corner and be ashamed, and don't turn into Hannah Bavli of the mezuzot.
Indeed, that is the question of tact that I commented on. Although if these were suggestions that really help, then this is not a matter of Hannah Bavli but of genuine assistance.
So is the rabbi retracting what he wrote in the fourth gate of the second book (of the quartet)? Because there, the rabbi took the trouble to suggest possibilities for why two parallel planes of explanation are possible. (This is not a snide question; I'm only making sure I understood correctly—was there a change of position here?)
Woe to such a charitable interpretation.
If the Queen of England invites you to afternoon tea, Hannah Bavli's advice will be very useful.
'With God's help, 5 Tishrei 5781
The tactlessness' seemingly shows that the commenter is convinced that his advice is effective. Just as a person would not be embarrassed to suggest to the injured woman a specialist doctor to treat her, or a good garage to fix the car—so he would not be embarrassed to suggest an effective 'safety measure' such as a mezuzah.
What one can criticize the driver for is not understanding the matter of checking mezuzot. A mezuzah is not an 'amulet for protection.' Checking mezuzot is part of the spiritual 'home inspection' a person performs when he finds himself in distress, going and examining possible areas of commandments in which he may not have been sufficiently careful, and checking tefillin and mezuzot is part of that spiritual 'home inspection.' Obviously it is not appropriate for the one who caused harm to suggest to the victim that she do a 'spiritual self-examination.' First adorn yourself…
With the blessing, "that your days and the days of your children may be multiplied," Shatz
It is worth noting that regarding the mezuzah it says, "that your days and the days of your children may be multiplied upon the land," just as it says regarding the commandment of honoring father and mother. Perhaps one might say that internalizing the faith conveyed by the mezuzah, and the demand explained in it: "And you shall love"—that the name of Heaven should become beloved through you—brings the driver to greater caution and respectful treatment of others, and thus many unnecessary accidents are prevented.
Paragraph 2, line 1
… a mezuzah is not an 'amulet…
A. It is also permissible to be snide. Not only I am allowed. 🙂
B. I am not retracting the logical analysis that showed how and to what extent this is possible in principle. I am retracting empirically, because in my opinion it is not likely that this is what is happening here. There is no indication whatsoever of divine involvement if everything can be explained through the laws of nature. So why assume its existence? Especially when on the natural plane there is an act of human choice, in which case it seems to me that even the logic is not possible (I no longer remember what I wrote there).
True, and then I would relate differently to advice given out of courtesy, and I would support even such advice when it is given by the one who caused the harm.
If one arrives at the conclusion that the question of guilt is marginal and relative, and that what remains is the issue of responsibility, then a substantive question arises in my view—and generally in the Israeli discourse of "taking responsibility."
In most cases, when a person says those two words, they are not accompanied by any real taking at all—it is lip service.
If this driver feels he must do something to translate taking responsibility into action—that seems to me not a bad initiative.
Now, since in our society they do not require him to pay for the damage he caused in any meaningful way, he tries to help in the way that seems most effective to him—is it his fault that he believes in something illogical…?
I did not understand this message. This is precisely what I wrote. He may believe in something illogical, but he is trying to take responsibility in a certain sense. Therefore there is room to judge him favorably.
I was responding to the end of Chayota's words: "But—one does not lecture a person at his time of distress, and one does not give him advice when one is the cause of that distress. To me, that is the ABC of basic human behavior. You hurt someone? Stand in the corner and be ashamed, and don't turn into Hannah Bavli of the mezuzot."
And to your response to that: "Although if these were suggestions that really help, then this is not a matter of Hannah Bavli but of genuine assistance."
What I am actually asking is whether his attempt to help should be judged according to the parameters of the person being helped or the person helping?
Should we expect a person to help you in the way you would want, or is it also okay that he helps in the way he himself would want to be helped, or that seems best to him?
An excellent question. I am sure the man had only the best intentions, truly. But this is a model case of lack of awareness. And perhaps beyond that, of a feeling that 'religious advice' can atone for everything. Nothing stands in its way. Not even human-moral virtues.
I noted in the column itself that even if his intentions are good, the help has to be given effectively. If it will not help, there is no point in offering it. It is unnecessary tactlessness.
I am trying to be as clear as possible, and it seems I am not managing to explain the question, because you are answering me again with what you really already wrote.
One last try…
I am not talking about intentions at all. When you say the help must be given effectively, I am asking: in which frame of reference do we assess effectiveness—the helper's or the helped person's?
And can we expect ordinary ignoramuses/ordinary people to know how to shift themselves from their own frame of reference to another one in order to help in a way that will be perceived as effective?
If while crossing a road, a third person (say, a Chinese person) notices that you are about to be run over and shouts at you "watch out" in Chinese, and you are run over. His help was not effective from your perspective, but from his side he did the best he could.
How does one bridge the positions when there is no culturally shared ground? In the case you bring, it is clear that from the victim's side this is received negatively because it is not effective and lacks tact. But from his side it may be the most effective and proper thing. When there is cultural shared ground this creates communication problems—how does one bridge those gaps?
The driver gives advice after the fact, so it cannot help, and in fact he could have given that same good advice to any other person in the universe.
The reason he gave the advice after *he* hit her is no different from any other thug in the country who runs over a citizen in a crosswalk and then yells at her, 'Watch where you're going, idiot!!!'
This is an inability to take responsibility stemming from pure thuggishness
1. Once you decide to ignore several things that are known to be important to most people (tact, things that may be implied by what is said even if not stated explicitly), suddenly there is a question why people get angry at such a suggestion, and then one can reach the conclusion that even someone who says he believes in the protective power of mezuzot does not really believe it.
But if we take reality into account (even if we assume it would have been more proper for the victim to try to take from the advice whatever she could instead of judging the tact of the one who harmed her), then the whole argument collapses.
2. Even if a mezuzah does indeed bring protection, there is no indication whatsoever that it caused the accident or even allowed it (rather than, say, lack of concentration in prayer, or afflictions of love, or collective responsibility for the driver's sins, etc.).
Of course a person's judgment is made according to his own view and not someone else's. What is the question? Shouting in Chinese is not help even according to the shouter's own view if the other person does not understand it.
There is an internal contradiction in your words. It is tactless because people get angry about it. I am asking why they get angry.
It seems to me that the matter is self-evident.
But it should be noted that if the Queen of England were to invite RMDA for a cup of tea—this would presumably be out of interest in his original and unconventional opinions, and not out of an expectation that he behave conventionally…
With the blessing, 'May this hour be an hour of mercy and favor,'
Earl Grey, distributor of the royal tea
On second thought, I partially agree
On the one hand, there is another reason for the anger—the driver (who is clearly guilty, or at least it is convenient to think he is clearly guilty) is busy finding problems with the victim. It is likely that even a recommendation for better safety mechanisms in the car, or looking farther ahead, would have caused anger, although it is likely that these indeed might prevent accidents (even when the other driver is not careful).
On the other hand, it is likely that a suggestion for protecting the car would have caused less anger among some people, and if so, the difference in the level of anger may stem from weak belief in the protection afforded by a mezuzah
Perhaps it would have been better if the driver had hinted about checking mezuzot not by saying it as advice to the injured woman, but as speaking to himself: 'I should examine myself, my ways, my tefillin, and my mezuzot, in order to clarify how I deteriorated to this failure'; and if the listener too were to take the hint and adopt the idea—all the better, but he would not have commented to her directly.
In any case, it is hard to seize upon the driver for his verbal stumble. The embarrassment, confusion, and emotional turmoil of the one who caused the harm are not small, and perhaps are no less great than the emotional turmoil of the injured woman, who is suffering bodily pain, but has been spared the psychic torment of guilt feelings. And when one is in emotional turmoil—one stumbles and is more liable to err in speech.
May it be God's will that He send all of us a complete recovery, both from bodily suffering and from mental suffering.
With blessing, Shatz
The conception is not that she was harmed because of the mezuzah (not causality but lack of purposiveness, lack of teleology). In my language I would say that she was harmed because of him, but could have been saved (by a hidden miracle) through the Holy One's providence over her, so that she would not be harmed even though according to the natural order she should have been harmed. (Crudely put, the Holy One would have "sent" her a thought in her heart to move from the place where she was standing in order to look at something she had wanted to see on that street two days earlier, and she would have moved from where she was 5 seconds or a minute or a quarter of an hour before the collision—depending on the level of providence over her. It is not clear in which direction there is more providence; I would דווקא say in the direction of a quarter of an hour.) It seems to me this is also the structure of "charity saves from death" in the story of Rabbi Akiva's daughter and the snake.
In any case, according to this line of thought, the place of repair is at the place of the sin (the flaw)—if you check the mezuzah, then the Holy One will hasten her healing (let us say; although that is harder than the earlier salvation, because as is well known, prevention is better than cure).
That is to say, reward and punishment (at least nowadays) in the observance of the commandments (and this is something a bit subtler than the crude stories of mere performance—that is, observance of commandments with intention) builds around a person a spiritual protective wall against natural harms. Like Elisha's wall of fire and horses of fire (or in the future, "Jerusalem shall be inhabited like unwalled villages… and I will be to her a wall of fire round about, and I will be the glory in her midst"). Or, "For He shall command His angels over you, to keep you in all your ways." And those angels, as is known, were made of fire (in Daniel—the man clothed in linen, "like burning torches"; and with Manoah's wife—"behold, a man of God came to me, and his appearance was very awesome, like the appearance of an angel of God." His face was very red, like burning coals.)
Regarding the person who violated the traffic laws, I think one could see the matter the other way around. In principle, he is in the wrong for driving fast and one really should be angry with him, except that you forgive him when in practice you see that nothing happened. Or perhaps one cannot really sustain anger over something that may happen, but he certainly deserves it.
However, when it actually happens, you also actualize the anger.
"But if they do not cry out and sound the trumpets, but instead say: this thing happened to us as part of the natural order of the world, and this distress is mere chance—this is a way of cruelty, and causes them to cling to their evil deeds, and the distress will add other distresses. This is what is written in the Torah: 'And if you walk with Me by chance, then I too will walk with you in the fury of chance.' That is, when I bring distress upon you so that you will repent, if you say it is chance, I will add to you the fury of that very chance."
Maimonides does not write anywhere that troubles necessarily came because of sins. Certainly it could be through the natural order. But since one cannot know, one must take into account the possibility that they came because of our deeds and repent. Otherwise, in cases where that really is the situation, we will have no ability to solve the problem at its root.
Religious doctors treating corona should take both possibilities into account: to investigate scientifically, and alongside that to repent (because perhaps the initial trigger of the epidemic was not by way of nature. This does not contradict the possibility that its course today is natural). There is no belief here in parallel explanatory planes, but rather taking both possibilities into account.
More power to you for the analysis. I very much liked your pointing out the behavioral contradiction in people's attitude toward contributory guilt from immodest conduct, in complete contrast to their attitude toward Sharon's ascent to the Temple Mount.
As for your criticism of wishes and blessings—I think you go too far here in the use of critical thinking. There is a danger of draining life of its colorfulness, richness, and natural flow—when everything is analyzed and cleared away. There are things that it is proper to leave alone. True, this is a danger inherent in education toward monotheistic faith (which undoubtedly made the world grayer than the world of idolaters)—but I fear the dry dictums that emerge from such an education no less than the amulet-kissers produced by the opposite kind of education.
Regarding the distinction between guilt and responsibility, I cannot manage to understand the practical difference. I have always wondered whether statements such as "perhaps we are not guilty, but we all bear responsibility" are not simply expressing some feeling of shame/guilt in poetic form. What distinguishes between the concepts? You gave quite a few examples and then said, "here there is/isn't responsibility and there is/isn't guilt," but that says nothing if you do not explain what assigning guilt is, what assigning responsibility is, and what exactly the differences between them are. Regarding a person who is only "responsible," are we not permitted to be angry/inflict punishment? Why? Regarding a person who is "guilty," are we obligated to protest? Why? Moreover, these are questions that, in your many conceptual distinctions, though always interesting, you do not answer.
It seems to me that the 'guilty' party fills a central role in causing the harm, whereas the role of the 'responsible' party is secondary, in the sense of Side-ler 🙂
When a person fills a central role in the harm, it's a shame, and therefore he is 'asham' ('guilty')
With blessing, Shatz
Seemingly there are two problems with the matter:
(a) Suggesting to the victim that she perform a 'spiritual self-examination' is problematic even when it does not come from the one who caused the harm, somewhat like the prohibition on comforters saying to a sufferer, 'Is not your fear of God your folly?' When a person is in distress—he needs encouragement from those around him, not criticism. Only when the sufferer himself is moved to conduct a 'spiritual self-examination' and comes to seek advice about what he should correct—then there is room to advise him in that direction.
(b) As for the one who caused the harm himself, there is a problem even with his giving medical advice, as it is explained that even if the one who caused the harm is himself a doctor and asks to heal the victim himself—one does not listen to him; rather, one obligates him to pay another doctor, because the victim lacks trust in the one who harmed him, or at the very least feels discomfort at any dealings with him, and 'the accuser cannot become the defender.'
With blessing, Shatz
Seidler, I think the matter is quite easy to understand in itself. But beyond that, after I refer to quite a few columns in which I dealt with this distinction, it is hard to say that I did not explain myself.
I should preface that there are concepts that are self-evident and there is neither need nor possibility to define them. When I define them, I will use other concepts, and then you can always ask for their definition. In a situation where we are dealing with clear concepts, the conceptual distinction itself is enough, because it draws the reader's attention to that distinction, and once he sees it he understands it on his own. That is the case with the distinction between guilt and responsibility.
But these are only principled remarks, because in this case I explained my intention quite well. The examples I brought (also in the columns to which I referred) give a good understanding of the concepts and the distinction between them. What is unclear in the example of a minor pursuer? Do you think that a five-year-old child who does not understand what he is doing, but opens fire in the street on every passerby, bears responsibility? Clearly he bears no guilt whatsoever. And yet, do you think it is forbidden to kill him? Almost everyone in the world thinks it is permitted (and required) to kill him. So too the halakhah was ruled (although the Amoraim disputed this). The question now arises: why? He is not guilty, so why should he bear the consequence? Who says his blood is less red than the blood of those you want to save? My claim is that the permission to kill him stems from assigning responsibility without guilt. Since his actions caused and are causing the result, the responsibility to prevent that result falls upon him. And if to do so it is necessary to kill him—then it is permitted and required to do so. This is the reason his blood is subjugated to solving the problem and saving the threatened people. What is unclear in this example?
Beyond this example and others I brought, our own case itself is also a self-evident example. When a person drives reasonably (even if not exactly according to the law), when something happens it is hard to say that he is guilty in the full sense. True, he violated the law, but every reasonable person does that. Therefore perhaps there is some guilt on him, but it is certainly not full guilt. And yet, it is clear to everyone that even if his guilt is not full, the responsibility on him is full. He is no different from another person who did the same thing without hurting anyone. So why is responsibility on him? Because responsibility is a broader concept than guilt. What is unclear about that?
Incidentally, the problem is not defining the difference between responsibility and guilt, but justifying it. It seems to me that you understand the definition and the distinction quite well: responsibility is bearing the consequences and the duty to rectify the wrong, even in a situation where there is no justification for punishing him, while guilt is a basis for punishment. Does that require explanation? It is self-evident. Rather, you are apparently wondering whether there is justification for assigning responsibility without guilt. In other words, your question is not about the definition of the concepts but about the justification of the claims (at least according to the principle of charity). It seems to me that especially when one asks for a definition of concepts and clarification of claims, one should oneself be careful about precision.
To Rabbi Michi
Even in the columns in question, which I read, the question I asked can still be asked. The statement "does the child bear responsibility? Clearly he bears no guilt whatsoever" is clear only after a person has understood the distinction between the concepts, and therefore it is difficult to say that it itself can explain them.
I would like to linger a bit on this point because I feel there is an important discussion here regarding the use of conceptual distinctions (which you make throughout your articles and books almost all the time).
I was precise in my words: I never spoke of a "definition" of the concepts but of a "distinction" between the concepts. Indeed, you are right (and on this I never disagreed) that by giving examples (and that alone) one can create in our minds a distinction between words, meaning when it is appropriate to use one word rather than another. For example, a person whose mother tongue is not Hebrew likely has not made a distinction between "tekhelet" and "blue," because his language had no words distinguishing between the colors (skies are blue). Rather, everything falls under the word "blue." But if we show him a few examples (examples and nothing more; there is no definition here of anything) and explain to him "this is tekhelet" and "this is blue," he will succeed in making a distinction between the cases, and now he will "understand" the word "tekhelet," meaning he will know how and when to use it.
According to your claim, this is a similar case: if you bring quite a few examples and about some of them say "here there is guilt" and about some say "here there is responsibility," a person will indeed know how to distinguish between the cases as you do.
But the situation here is entirely different. From the conceptual distinction you create, unlike the distinction between tekhelet and blue, you are trying to determine different norms ("he is guilty and therefore should be punished" or "he is responsible and therefore should not be punished"); therefore, in my humble opinion, the matter requires a different kind of philosophical explanation. But this is a problem, because any attempt to justify different norms by means of new conceptual distinctions will always encounter this problem, as you pointed out in your reply.
Therefore, in my humble opinion, one should go in the opposite direction (and I would be glad to hear your opinion on the idea). The basis of this distinction is first of all whether I feel that the person should be punished, or only that we should expect him to try to repair the situation. When I intuitively feel that he should be punished, I use the word "guilt." That is, guilt is not a cause but a sign.
What practical difference does this make? When there is a case—for example, like the shooting child—where I certainly think he should be stopped even at the cost of his life, I am confused. On the one hand, I am used to using the word "guilt" for situations in which it is clear to me that a person should be punished because he committed a bad act; on the other hand, here I do not exactly think the child is guilty. Perhaps this is connected precisely to the fact that I do not think stopping the child at the cost of his life is a "punishment" of the child in the usual sense. Therefore, instead of getting entangled with conceptual definitions and deliberating whether there is some "instantiation" here of guilt/responsibility, I would simply create for myself a new word describing such unfortunate situations.
That is, the practical difference is methodological.
The disagreement between us was already sharpened in my previous message. In my opinion, every person understands the child's responsibility very well, and from that can also notice the self-evident distinction between guilt and responsibility.
The use of examples, contrary to your assumption, is not psychological conditioning but clarification of the concepts and their correct uses. It sharpens our perceptions of the (moral) world and is not merely use of language as a Wittgensteinian game, as you describe it.
In the concluding paragraph you yourself explain to yourself why you are not confused. You know he must be killed, so what is the problem? Clearly his killing is not a punishment, and precisely because of that this example sharpens the concept of responsibility as opposed to guilt. If so, you understand this distinction very well. Therefore I repeat and claim that this distinction is clear to you, and the conceptual distinction and examples merely draw your attention to it. And that is enough.
It seems to me that we are circling around the question of skepticism. If you reduce everything to psychology, there is no point in our discussion. You understand very well why the child must be killed, but for some reason decide that this is only a psychological phenomenon in you and not a "real" claim (on the ethical plane). So what kind of answer do you expect from me? I have often said that I have nothing to discuss with genuine skeptics, only if I can manage to show them that they are not such.
By the same token, you could write that whoever dislikes the behavior of Job's friends also, in the depths of his heart, does not believe in providence.
And on the substantive issue, presumably you too would admit that you do not know the mechanisms through which God governs His world, and therefore in my opinion you cannot really decide the question of what is an act of God and what is the way of nature. The Kuzari already wrote that we have no way of knowing what is God's act and what belongs to natural happenstance, and nevertheless the more correct approach is to go "strictly" and assume that what happens to us is from God.
What causes the bitterness here is that the person is beating on someone else's chest and taking God's providence in the opposite direction from what it should be.
In other words, as for providence as a fact regarding a specific event, we have no way to decide, and the correct answer is "I don't know," not "there isn't any." (Unless for you God serves as an explanation for natural phenomena, in which case indeed you do not need Him.) Whoever nonetheless decides that there is here an act of God—should take it in a moral direction and not an immoral one.
Thank you for the recommendation. I saw the interesting film and afterward read your article.
It should be noted that Yuval Noah Harari speaks about these things at length in his last two books.
I think the dystopia is already here. True, it is not terrible, and it is not clear where this is going.
I remember that a few years ago I flew to England and stopped for a connection at an airport in Germany, and suddenly I realized that almost all the people were glued to their smartphones. Humanity has already fallen into this trap (and you rightly noted that even criticism of the phenomenon is spread through those same technological channels… one can only guess what will happen if such criticism significantly harms the revenues of those giant companies…)
Since then I have read and learned a bit about machine learning (for the sake of my work) and discovered the enormous (and dangerous) potential latent in codes of this sort.
You wrote that you do not take psychology seriously, and I am with you on that.
But machine learning bypasses the need to understand the human being. It is pure empiricism.
The code does not care whether you are depressed because your serotonin is not flowing properly, or because your mother did not hug you enough.
It cares only to identify what motivates people and to use that information for financial gain.
This empiricism is so powerful, and it allows one constantly to update and be updated.
At the moment we are indeed dealing with biases of percentages and statistics, but it is not far-fetched to estimate that algorithms will improve to such a degree that they will be able to increase their control over us.
In this context Yuval Noah Harari makes an interesting claim: the algorithms do not need to know the human being perfectly. They only need to know him better than the human being knows himself. And that bar is not especially high.
I agree that critical thinking and self-control are the task of the generation, so more power to you and thank you!
At the beginning of the article you wrote that you would address the question of whether mezuzot really have an effect, and you did not deal with that at all. You dealt only with "whether we believe that mezuzot have an effect." You did not discuss the words of the Sages, you did not make a comparison between houses that have a mezuzah and those that do not, and you did not propose any other tool for examining the effect.
You did not answer the question.
You are right. There was an imprecision in the wording. I did not mean to discuss the question of whether mezuzot help because I have no tools to examine this (one can think of statistical tests as with prayers). I meant to divide the discussion into problems with the assumption that mezuzot help and problems connected to the fact that they do not help (which is my assumption).
The author of the Tanya, in Sha'ar HaYichud VehaEmunah, says that God = nature.
God determined, for example, that so-and-so would earn a certain sum; therefore He placed in that person's heart the idea to go study a profession that by way of nature would yield that sum, because nature is a tool serving God's will.
I have explained here more than once why I do not agree with this thesis. Our decisions too are determined by the laws of nature and our free choice. So why is divine intervention in our decision preferable to His intervention in physics? If you accept that there is involvement there, then you do not need to arrive at this. Just say that He is involved in physics, and that's that.
With God's help, 13 Tishrei 5781
The mezuzah is not an 'amulet' for protection. The mezuzah is intended to internalize in a person the consciousness of faith, and following it the love of God and fear of Him. And in the words of Maimonides in the Guide of the Perplexed (part 3, chapters 17–19), the level of a person's providence depends on the level of his connection to his God. According to this it will be understood that one in whom the reminder of the mezuzah has internalized and deepened his connection to God—will merit greater protection and providence against natural occurrences and their harms.
With blessing, Shatz
In my humble opinion, the rabbis and drivers who believe in the ability of a defective mezuzah to cause one trouble or another rely on many years of anecdotal experience: out of X people who turned for advice and relief, Y were advised to check their mezuzot, and among Z the mezuzot really were found invalid. Thus a survivorship bias is created, in a kind of reverse form (focusing on the Z victims and their invalid mezuzot, and then creating a mistaken dependence between troubles and mezuzot).
In the best case. See column 38.
And I only thought that in this accident something greater was prevented for everyone involved in the story. The one who caused the harm and the injured woman both need to reflect on the event; I have no doubt there is a message there for both of them.
An ordinary person will deal with what he is accustomed to dealing with—in himself,
with what he sees and what he feels from the vantage point of his understanding:
the injury
the damage
the pain
the guilt
hidden motives—the mezuzah
There is a process that began for both of them in the creation of the accident long before it happened
and there the answer lies
…
The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil
At the end of the day, your indictment of the driver contains only one count. He is accused of "adopting strange notions and proposals, even if he himself does not really believe in them."
I assume you would agree that the accusation you are hurling at him belongs to the type of arguments known as "false consciousness" claims, so beloved by our postmodern cousins.
Of course there is nothing wrong with using their arguments (after all, sometimes they are right too…), but in this case I think it is a wild exaggeration. Do you really think that nobody believes that checking mezuzot helps (unless he ran someone over)? What makes you think that this particular driver does not believe in what he says he believes? Based on my acquaintance with many such people, I am quite convinced that he would have sent his mezuzot to be checked at his rabbi's instruction even if he had not run anyone over.
If I did not fear to do so, I would use that same weapon stolen from the postmoderns against you as well.
It cannot be that you truly and sincerely believe that the driver is in cognitive dissonance when the evidence for this is so weak.
It can only be that because it is so hard for you to imagine that someone might think differently from you about the usefulness of mezuzot, you are quick to judge that any expression of such an opinion is rooted in cognitive dissonance.