Regarding “compelling charity” — what actually is the difference if, in “compelled charity” (which is indeed legitimate), a rabbi or a religious court compels a person to give charity — isn’t that a kind of “soul redemption”?

Compelling charity is a halakhic principle that already appears in the Talmud. It isn’t a rabbi or a decisor, but a religious court, meaning the institutions of the community (like taxes in a state). The purpose of the compulsion is to help the poor, not to redeem the soul of the giver; nobody compels someone to do something for his own benefit. Search online for “compelling charity” and you’ll find plenty of material.

I don’t know whether it works or not, but this concept (in terms of its content) is not a new invention. The Hebrew Bible is full of concepts of redeeming a person’s soul from Sheol (or death under one of its names). The idea was that a person who is liable to die for some reason belongs to Sheol, and if one wants to redeem him from it (like redeeming slaves from a master to whom they were sold), one must give it something else in his place. Like: “No brother can redeem; a man cannot redeem… but God will redeem my soul from the hand of Sheol.” “You have redeemed my soul from death.” “Because you were precious to Me… I give men in your place, and peoples in exchange for your life.” And according to the Talmudic midrash (the story of Rabbi Akiva and his daughter) on “charity saves from death,” there is a kind of charity (maybe any charity) that can function as a ransom for life.

Ailon, thanks. The question is whether there are rabbis today who are great enough to tell a person that if he gives x in charity, his condition in y will improve (or even improve in general).

In my humble opinion, in the case of Rabbi Akiva’s daughter, and also in the case of Mar Ukva and his wife who entered the oven (if I’m not mistaken), there was no prior knowledge, but rather spontaneous rescue that came in the wake of proper and genuine charity.

As for the quotations from the Hebrew Bible, they are not dealing with monetary redemption, right?

As for great rabbis, I don’t know. The story of Rabbi Akiva certainly was not a case of soul redemption like here, but something that happened after the fact. But the Talmud explicitly states that she was indeed destined to die, except that the charity she actually gave to the poor person redeemed her from death (and it also happened on that very day). In any case, our “soul redemption” too could be, in your words, “proper and genuine charity.” It is written: “One who says, ‘This coin is for charity on condition that my son live (recover),’ behold, he is a completely righteous person.” That is acceptable and is considered genuine charity (I won’t get into here why that is so, but it is indeed so); it is only important that he not regret it even if his son does not live (that he not rebel against the commandment, in the language of the halakhic decisors — and that the Holy One, blessed be He, who searches and tests the heart, also knows beforehand). It is considered an investment in which the investment itself has value even without the immediate material return. That is, charity can be principal that remains for the life of the World to Come, while its fruits are enjoyed in this world. But that is on condition that there was spirituality here (the World to Come — that is, that he saw value in fulfilling the commandment itself, and therefore did not regret it afterward). In such a situation, charity really can raise the chances of the son’s recovery.

With regard to the Hebrew Bible, redemption in general indeed can be with money (the valuation of a person, at the end of Leviticus). But presumably Sheol doesn’t care about money; it wants only souls. So the redemption there is a life in exchange for a life, a person in exchange for a person. And the Holy One, blessed be He, redeems the righteous with the life of the wicked. “The righteous is delivered out of trouble, and the wicked comes in his stead.” That is the biblical way of thinking on the matter.

By the way, just so it’s clear: the assumption is that these rabbis pass the money on to charity, which they distribute as they see fit. The idea is that you come to them so that they will pray for you to God (because you don’t know how to pray on your own behalf), and you need to have some merit so that God will have mercy on you. Charity works as a kind of mercy within judgment. You had mercy on the poor person, and the righteous man prays for you that God should have mercy on you by virtue of that (and measure for measure). The money is given to them because they know to whom it should be given and who is a fraud and should not receive it. For “charity is rewarded only according to the kindness in it.” And charity given to frauds does not grant the merits of charity. Just as Jeremiah prayed about his enemies that they should fail by giving charity to unworthy people. (In Bava Batra.)

When I wrote that the Hebrew Bible does not speak about redemption with money, I of course meant on the mystical level (as with rabbis in our time who do “soul redemption”). The redemption of a slave is on the technical level (just like a transaction), and that is of course mentioned in the Hebrew Bible, as you noted.

By the way, it seems to me that there are also views that charity to “frauds” still counts as charity.
Besides that, sometimes it is really hard to know whether the use of the charity funds on the recipient’s side was fraudulent or a legitimate use of charity money.

There is also a monetary ransom for life, money in exchange for life (usually consecrated to God): “If a ransom is imposed upon him… then he shall give for the redemption of his life whatsoever is imposed upon him”; “And each man shall give a ransom for his life to the Lord when you number them, that there be no plague among them when you number them… to atone for your lives”; “No devoted thing that is devoted from among men shall be redeemed; it shall surely be put to death”; “And not a man of us was missing, and we have brought the offering of the Lord… to atone for our lives before the Lord”; “And you shall take no ransom for the life of a murderer who is wicked to die, but he shall surely be put to death”..

It seems to me that this explains the double meaning of the concept of “herem.” One meaning is a kind of consecration, like something forbidden for benefit (that’s also how it is in Arabic — something one may not benefit from), like the ban on the spoils of the city of Jericho, from which Achan took benefit. The second meaning is killing: “You shall let no soul remain alive… rather you shall utterly destroy them.” The assumption was that one may not make use of prisoners of war (slavery) in wars in which God was the primary combatant (the spoil is His, like the material spoil in Jericho), or when the captives were wicked. Then they are a kind of consecration to God, and killing them is like offering a sacrifice. In wars in which we were on the brink of destruction, it is as though we already belonged to death (to Sheol), and therefore when we came out from darkness (death) into light, one has to give it the wicked who wanted to kill us. (That’s how this explains the killing that took place in Purim, for example.) And this is part of the plain meaning of “the righteous is delivered out of trouble,” etc. There is also an explicit verse in Proverbs saying that a wicked person is a ransom for the righteous: “The wicked is a ransom for the righteous, and the treacherous comes in place of the upright.” Likewise, this explains the rabbinic interpretation in the Oral Torah of “No devoted thing that is devoted from among men shall be redeemed,” whose plain meaning is simply that this is consecration (actually herem — a higher level of consecration, the equivalent of items consecrated for the altar among things that are not pure animals) of an actual human being — as with Jephthah’s daughter. But the rabbinic interpretation says it refers to people sentenced to death (the four death penalties of the religious court), who cannot give a ransom as a murderer can’t.