26.5.05

Parashat BiChukosai

7) And you will chase after your enemies, and they will fall before you to the sword. 8) And five amongst you will chase a hundred. A hundred amongst you will chase a myriad. And your enemies will fall before you to the sword.
VaYikra, perek 26

When compared to 33 pasukim of Klalos, the conditional Brachos of Parashat BiChukosai seem relatively terse, as if each pasuk holds a world of blessing on its own; such a feeling is certainly echoed in the Brachos of Parashat Ki Tavo, a mere fifteen pasukim compared to 54 of curses. Yet two pasukim – pasukim 7 and 8, consecutive pasukim no less – carry a most blatant redundancy. In fact, there isn’t even a word in pasuk 7 that doesn’t appear again in pasuk 8! What then is the point, the world of blessings, contained within this seemingly superfluous pasuk?

It is clear that Rashi, quoting directly from the Sifra, saw a difference between these two pasukim. When commenting on the words ViNaflu Lifneichem LiCharev in pasuk 7, Rashi explains, “Eesh BiCherev Rei’eihu,” that our enemies will not fall on our swords but rather on each others. Had the pasuk said BiCherev, as opposed to LiCherev, we would have understood it to refer to our own swords; but the strange wording instead suggests that they will kill each other, not that we would kill them. However, when commenting on these exact same words in pasuk 8, Rashi instead comments, “SheLo KiDerech Ha’Aretz,” that they will fall on their own swords [while fleeing from us] in an uncommon fashion, an uncommon and unnatural death. Clearly, there is something about these two pasukim, some clear distinction, which warrants the Midrash to interpret identical clauses differently. But what is that difference?

But before we attempt to make sense of these two pasukim’s redundancies, perhaps we should question their overall placement. In pasuk 6, Hashem promises us ViCherev Lo Sa’avor Bi’Artzichem, that no sword will pass through Eretz Yisrael in a time of peace. Pasukim 7 and 8 are therefore very troubling, for if Hashem just promised us that no sword would pass through our land, how could our enemies fall by the sword as we chase them out? Perhaps these pasukim are out of order. Perhaps these pasukim refer to a time before there is full peace in the land. But if these pasukim don’t follow a chronological order, what order do they follow?

Rashi answers this question in pasuk 6. Pasuk 6 promises us Shalom, and Rashi comments on the value of peace, “Shema Tomru Harei Ma’achal ViHarei Mishteh, [Aval] Im Ein Shalom, Ein Klum.” Hashem can promise us plentiful food and drink, but what would it be worth without peace. Therefore, the pasukim mention peace after food to emphasize its worth. The promise for abundance and security in the land cannot be fulfilled until Hashem rids the country of our enemies and wild animals, but it nonetheless is stated first.

Likewise, Hashem can promise us ViCherev Lo Sa’avor Bi’Artzichem, but there are two ways to fulfill this promise. On one hand, Eretz Yisrael could be in charge, we could be the nation to decide whether neighboring armies may pass through our land. Or, Eretz Yisrael could be one of many nations bound by a truce, no more powerful than its peaceful neighbors. The Bracha offered in pasuk 7 comes specifically to promise us that Eretz Yisrael will not be bound by the laws of other nations; rather we will dictate the laws and not be bullied around by another nation. Therefore, our freedom will not be achieved by treaty or truce, but rather by victory in battle, as the pasuk promises, U’Ridaftem Es Oiveichem. And the bordering nations will certainly not look to make peace, as the pasuk promises ViNaflu Lifneichem LiCharev, they will kill each other, but they will not try to kill us.

However, even the promises of pasuk 7 are incomplete, for within the promise of legislative authority come the incredible burdens of military supremacy. How could we ever be a strong authoritative nation without exhaustively devoting ourselves to our army? Pasuk 8 directly addresses this new concern, and promises ViRadfu MiKem. The Sifra, again quoted by Rashi, comments on the extra word Mikem, explaining it refer to the average person among the nation, and not to the military. Even our weakest will successfully defeat our enemies when Hashem is on our side. The pasuk continues this promise, five will chase a hundred and a hundred will chase a myriad, that Hashem will assist the efforts of many who keep the Torah even more than He will assist a few righteous individuals.

Therefore, ViNaflu Lifneichem LiCharev can no longer refer to our enemies’ rowdy attitude after being kicked out of Eretz Yisrael. It instead refers to our success against them in battle, before we kick them out. Hashem will cause our enemies’ unnatural deaths on behalf of our nation’s Rabim Ha’Osin Es HaTorah, thus making our path to victory even more efficient with forcing us to work any harder. Pasuk 8 is indeed nothing like pasuk 7, and these clauses, though identical, refer to totally different points in the chronology of our victory.

20.5.05

Parashat Behar

When the Torah forbids one to lend to his fellow Jew with interest, the pasuk uses both the words Neshech and Tarbis? Why multiple words for a single offense? Rashi answers that the Torah’s intent was to attach two separate Aveiros to this single offense. The Gur Aryeh, attempting to clarify Rashi’s comments, explains that there are two separate aspects to the Aveirah of Neshech ViTarbis. On one side, the borrower is losing money that is rightfully his; this we call Neshech, for it is comparable to the lender taking a bite out of the borrower as a snake might. On the other side of the transaction, the lender is unjustly gaining money; this we call Ribbis, from the shoresh of Rav or Harbei.

But this answer simply does not suffice. Since when does the Torah punish a man for making money?! Does one transgress two separate Aveiros any time he steals? In reality, the gaining of money is just a facet of the general Aveirah. Perhaps a person who steals from another without any personal gain is even more despicable than a person who steals and profits; perhaps he deserves an extra Aveirah! So what makes Neshech any different that the Gur Aryeh could ever fathom Chazal having added an Aveirah for profiting?

The Kli Yakar takes an interesting approach to the Aveirah of Ribbis that may help us understand the Gur Aryeh’s reasoning. The Kli Yakar suggests that the parasha of Ribbis emphasizes the need for Bitachon in Hashem, that when one charges interest to another Jew, he denies his belief that Hashem will support him when he performs Mitzvos properly. Therefore, the pasuk in Parashat Ki Teitzei allows us to charge interest to Goyim because of their lack of integrity to repay their loans. Since we must have full Bitachon in Hashem in order to lend money to a Goi altogether and expect him to pay it back, it does not hamper our Bitachon by any means to expect Goyim to return loans with interest.

Yet the Kli Yakar’s answer still does not suffice, for Rashi also takes note of our pasuk’s continuation, ViYareisa MeiElokecha, and lists two cases that this clause comes to include into the prohibition of Neshech ViTarbis. One of these scenarios is a situation where one lends money to a Goi in order for the Goi to lend and charge interest to a Jew; then the Jew will pay a large sum of interest to the Goi and the Goi will return a cut of this money to the original lender. It seems ViYareisa MeiElokecha is stated to teach the Jew that the lures of charging interest are incredibly strong, so don’t try to find a way to commit these Aveiros without being caught by the victimized Jewish borrower. By the Kli Yakar’s approach, the original lender should be allowed to do this; by no means does it transgress the Issur of Ribbis because there is no guarantee that the Goi will ever return a cent of his earnings; as long as the Jew hands his money to the Goi, he maintains ful Bitachon in Hashem, regardless of what the Goi does with the money. But Rashi somehow considers this scenario to be no different than a standard case of Neshech. How?

A closer look at Rashi suggests that this scenario was not emphasized because of the lender’s stealthy and covert fashion. Rashi’s first scenario, his first situation for which the pasuk needs to state ViYareisa MeiElokecha, is nothing more than the standard case of Neshech! There’s certainly no stealth in such a case, and yet Rashi seems to be equating these two scenarios – a regular loan with interest and a loan handled through a Non-Jewish third party – as if they are no different from each other, as if one’s fear of G-d will equally prevent him from transgressing these prohibitions. How can this be?

Perhaps Rashi’s take on the Issur of Ribbis is based on a broader analysis of these pasukim. If we look back at pasuk 35, we see that the Aveiros of Nesech and Ribbis are attached to a more general Mitzvah, namely Tzedakah. The pasuk says to help out any Jewish paupers and straighten their financial status before they decline; therefore, it is a Mitzvah to lend this money to the Jew, and one would expect Hashem to repay him for his troubles. But if a lender ever charges interest to a Jew, then he is no longer receiving his Schar from Hashem but rather from his friend. He is turning his opportunity for a Mitzvah into an opportunity for business. His rejection of Hashem’s Mitzvah and his rejection of the Schar for the Mitzvah are the reasons for the added Lav. An outright theif only commits one Aveirah, but a person who charges interest doesn’t only steal from his borrower; he also steals from himself the opportunity to properly perform a Mitzvah.

It is therefore clear why the prohibition on interest does not forbid one from lending to a Goi; there is no Mitzvah to lend money to poor Goyim in the first place. However, one who lends money to a Goi in order for the Goi to charge interest to a needy Jew is indeed no different than a person who outright lends the money to his fellow Jew with interest. Both are offered a Mitzvah, and both reject the Mitzah in return for a business opportunity. This is why the pasuk must emphasize ViYereissa MeiElokecha in regard to even the basic transgression, for a person who does not fear G-d’s Mitzvos and simply tries to accomplish them at his own convenience will see absolutely no problem with Neshech ViTarbis. It is only the person who fully fears Hashem and fully understands the value of a Mitzvah that will not succumb to this ever-alluring Aveirah.

Good Shabbos.

6.5.05

Parashat Kedoshim

In response to the deaths of his 24,000 talmidim, Rabbi Akiva said of the pasuk v’ahavta l’reiacha kamocha (love your peer as yourself) (Leviticus 19:18) that it is a klal gadol batorah (a big general law). Rabbi Akiva’s students died because they did not treat each other each other with proper honor; therefore, Rabbi Akiva learned to stress the need for one to love his fellow Jew like he would love himself.

But Rabbi Akiva’s words do not seem to teach us anything new. Could one suggest that without Rabbi Akiva we would never have identified this mitzvah as the crux of all mitzvos in the Torah? Certainly not, for years before Rabbi Akiva was even born, a geir (convert) asked Hillel the Elder to teach him the entire Torah on “one foot,” and Hillel cited, “Anything you would unto like done unto you, do not do unto others. The rest of the Torah is [this axiom’s] explanation” (Mesechet Sahbbat 31a). Hillel tells the convert to treat his neighbors with the same care that he would treat himself, and Hillel considers this lesson the axiom upon which the entire Torah is structured. What then does Rabbi Akiva’s “klal gadol” teach that Hillel had not already taught?

Perhaps Rabbi Akiva said the lesson of v’ahavta not only as a response to the deaths of his 24,000 students, but in addition as the answer to an equally troubling dilemma, namely a paradox which arises from the first half of the same pasuk. The pasuk opens, lo sikom v’lo sitor es b’nei amecha, do not take revenge and do not bear a grudge against the people of your nation. Rashi comments that these two commandments address the identical scenario: Reuvein asks for a favor from his neighbor, Shimon, and Shimon refuses to help. The next day, Shimon asks to borrow Reuvein’s axe. What is Reuvien supposed to do? On one hand, if he refuses to lend his axe to Shimon, he would be taking revenge for his neighbor’s selfishness. On the other hand, lending his axe to Shimon would be no different than saying “I’m better than you, for you wouldn’t help me, but I’ll still help you in spite of your selfishness,” a truly begrudging gesture. The Torah seems to force Reuvein to sin simply at the hands of his neighbor’s actions!

Therefore we must accept that neither lo sikom nor lo sitor can depend solely on Shimon’s perception of Reuvein’s actions. Reuvein has every right not to lend the axe to Shimon if he requires it for his own needs, even if this disappoints Shimon. And he may certainly lend it to Shimon, but must have pure intentions in mind, even if Shimon walks away feeling insulted. Instead, it is Reuvein’s decision process which exclusively determines whether his actions constitute a fulfillment or a violation of these commandments. Because Hillel’s rule determines the law from the neighbor’s viewpoint, his axiom has no solution to the axe lending paradox. However, Rabbi Akiva’s modification does.

Rabbi Akiva teaches us that the mitzvah of v’ahavta l’reiacha kamocha cannot be measured solely by a person’s actions. A person must understand that the love he shows to his neighbor may not necessarily show externally in his decision to lend or withhold an axe, but still must be present internally. It was to this lesson that Rabbi Akiva proclaimed “zeh klal gadol batorah,” for this law redefines the guidelines for fulfillment of every other mitzvah in the Torah. We come to recognize that it is never enough to simply perform good deeds, that we must also have the purest of intentions.

After his students’ deaths, Rabbi Akiva gathered five new talmidim (students): Rabbi Meir, Rabbi Yehuda, Rabbi Yose, Rabbi Elazar, and Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. These five regenerated Torah study back to life, which was threatened with dormancy, and their teachings are recorded throughout the Mishna, Tosefta, and Breisaos. But what happened to the Torah of the 24,000 students? Though they died, surely someone must have remembered a teaching or two of theirs. Yet aside from the five, no other Rabbi quoted in tannaitic sources was a student of Rabbi Akiva’s. How is this so?

Perhaps Rabbi Akiva’s lesson was not only a solution to preventing future deaths between colleagues, but also an active response to the loss of his own talmidim. While the product of his students’ effort may have been Torah, Rabbi Akiva realized that the process by which this Torah came about was tainted by greed and disrespect. One should not learn from the products of greed and disrespect. Rabbi Akiva did not forget his old students’ Torah; instead, he chose to erase it and to start anew with thoughtful, caring talmidim, for the conduits of Oral Torah must be pure in both content and intention. May we learn from and build upon this lesson, to lead honest lives and show proper honor, in fulfillment of Rabbi Akiva’s ever-essential klal gadol.