Listen to this morning's class, "The Truths of Halakhah (3)," here.
Follow along with the sources here.
Sunday, June 30, 2019
The Truths of Halakhah (3)
Listen to this morning's class, "The Truths of Halakhah (3)," here.
Follow along with the sources here.
Thursday, June 20, 2019
Sunday, June 16, 2019
Friday, June 14, 2019
Parashat Naso: Anonymity
Anonymity
Thoughts on Parashat Naso 2019
Click here to view as PDF
Following
instruction of the three verses of birkat kohanim, God instructed Moshe:
And
they [the kohanim]
shall set My name over Bnei Yisrael, and I myself shall bless them.
(Bemidbar 6:27)
The
Hakhamim explained that the call to “set His name” over the people
referred to speaking the “shem ha-mefurash” – the clandestine name of
God whose utterance was confined to the four walls of the Mishkan.[1]
Adhering to this tradition of secrecy, the Rabbis of the Talmud were careful in
their transmittance of God’s sacred names, teaching them only on occasion and
to their best and most trustworthy students.[2]
Concealment
of a name is most appropriate for Sefer Bemidbar. Bemidbar continues the
narrative begun in Sefer Shemot of Am Yisrael’s exit from Egypt
and march to the Land of Israel. These two books, however, are actually so
different from one another. As the title of Shemot suggests, the sefer
presents the “names” and stories of several individuals. First teaching about
the seventy people who descended into Egypt, Shemot then details the
birth and growth of the nation’s future leader Moshe. Sefer Bemidbar, in
contrast, is referred to by the Hakhamim as the “Humash of
Counting,” and more widely known as the “Book of Numbers.” Generally neglecting
the “names,” self-identities and the stories of individuals, Bemibar is
the story of a nation. It tells about the trials and travails of a vast
number of “nameless” people.
Forty
years ago, the social critic Christopher Lasch commented: “Success in our
society has to be ratified by publicity.” He wrote that “the tycoon who lives
in personal obscurity” and “the empire builder who controls the destinies of
nations from behind the scenes” are vanishing types.[3]
Akiko Busch more recently realized, “It has become routine to assume that the
rewards of life are public and that our lives can be measured by how we are
seen rather than what we do.” Our society’s sustained obsession with social
media and the ongoing legal debates regarding surveillance and cyber privacy
represent the “public” and “exposed” lives that we now all lead. Indeed, Busch
noted that the contemporary use of the word optics has less to do with
the science of light (as it once did), and refers instead to how visual
impressions of events and issues may be more important than the events and
issues themselves.[4]
Reflecting
upon the difference between exposure and “namelessness,” R. Joseph B.
Soloveitchik z”l wrote that Judaism demands anonymity from man. “He must
do his job and then vanish.” R. Soloveitchik reflected upon the members of the Anshei
Knesset HaGedolah (the Men of the Great Assembly), who established many
foundational laws and formulated our liturgy, the berakhot, and the
recitations of kiddush and havdalah. Who were they? What were
their personal stories? “We know next to nothing about them,” R. Soloveitchik
remarked, “They did not seek to perpetuate their own names.” Striving
diligently to bring the Jewish people together and formulate the Torah
she-be’al peh, when these men finished their tasks they disappeared.
The Anshei Knesset HaGedolah, like so many of the other individuals
who make up the chain of our tradition, “came, did their duty, and then
vanished.”[5]
Immediately
prior to mention of birkat kohanim, Parashat Naso details the potential
circumstances of individuals who may attempt to “stand out,” and establish a
“name” for themselves. First predicting the tragic demise of the sotah,
the wayward woman, the parashah then describes the ways of the nazir.
Although the nazir’s choice to stand apart from the others by abstaining
from acts of indulgence may seem positive, the Hakhamim emphasized the
Torah’s critique of that decision.[6]
The sotah and nazir, then, represent the opposite extremes of
name-seeking individuals, and neither is seen positively.
Taking
in the current state of our society at the end of his life, the late Oliver
Sacks observed:
Everything is
public now, potentially: one’s thoughts, one’s photos, one’s movements, one’s
purchases. There is no privacy and apparently little desire for it in a world
devoted to nonstop use of social media. Every minute, every second, has to be
spent with one’s device clutched in one’s hand.
He
lamented the fact that we are no longer able to concentrate and appreciate in
our own way, silently. We have given up “the amenities and achievements of
civilization,” Sacks wrote, forfeiting solitude and leisure and the sanction to
be oneself.[7]
Reflecting
the broader message of Sefer Bemidbar, Parashat Naso sets forth a
perspective on life and accomplishment so relevant to us today. Learning from
the mistakes of the sotah and nazir, we discover the detriments
of over-exposure. The concealment of God’s name, in contrast, reminds us of the
positive value of anonymity. Seeking genuine achievement calls for shielding
ourselves from the limelight of fame and searching instead for truths that are
determined on our own.
[1] See Commentary of Rashi to Bemidbar 6:27, s.v.
ve-samu and to Shemot 20:21, s.v. bekhol.
[2] Kiddushin 71a.
[3] Christopher Lasch, The Culture of Narcissism
(New York, NY, 1979), pg. 60.
[4] Akiko Busch, How to Disappear: Notes on
Invisibility in a Time of Transparency (New York, NY, 2019), pg. 4-7.
[5] R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Blessings and
Thanksgiving (New York, NY, 2019), pg. 141-3.
[6] See Commentary of Rashi to Bemidbar 6:11, s.v.
me-asher.
[7] Oliver Sacks, Everything in Its Place: First
Loves and Last Tales (New York, NY, 2019), pg. 254-5.
Thursday, June 6, 2019
Monday, June 3, 2019
Parashat BeHukotai: Intrinsic Motivation
Obedience
Thoughts on Parashat BeHukotai 2019
Click here to view as PDF
Parashat
Behukotai begins with God’s condition to Am Yisrael.
He told them that by following His laws – If you will walk by My statutes
(26:3) – they would merit wealth, security and strength. Concluding these
promises of prosperity, God told the nation:
I will walk among you; I will be a God to you and
you will be a people to me. (26:12)
Paralleling His condition of our
“walking by His statutes,” God foresaw “walking among us” – in the sense that
we would feel His presence. Instead of mentioning this reality as the immediate
result of following the missvot, which would then inspire the
possibilities of material success, “I will walk among you” is mentioned as the final
promise to the people who follow His will. It appears, then, that
the promise of “I will walk among you” stands as the reward,
independent of anything else.
Suppose, in theory, that a
mixture of technological breakthroughs and human creativity bring the world to
a state of utopia. Machines would produce stress-free universal wealth,
psychology would vaccinate against mental disorders, and a perfected human
intellect would raise us above all fights and competition. What would we then
do all day? Philosopher Bernard Suits suggested that we would play games. Games,
he explained, are played for their owns sake, irrespective of ulterior considerations.[1]
R. Yisshak Hutner z”l accordingly explained the several biblical
references of Torah as a “sha’ashua’a” – a “plaything” (Tehillim 119:92;
Mishlei 8:30-1), as study of its words and concepts is likewise an
intrinsically motivated activity.[2]
As members of a world and
community which unabashedly value outcome above process, it is no
small feat for us to identify and appreciate any of the intrinsic ideals
that life has to offer. Indeed, the novelist KJ Dell’Antonia recently quoted a Senior
high student who reflected upon her appreciation of extracurricular activities:
“There is definitely this sense that you are putting work into activities so
you can get some sort of payback – admission to a top college – and afterward,
your work is done.” Dell’Antonia remarked:
Ironically,
in placing so much value on activities that our children came to out of love or
interest, we grown-ups replaced the intrinsic motivations we often claim to
value with extrinsic ones. When you’ve been taught that every action has a
purpose, it’s harder to find meaning in just doing something you enjoy, and
much more difficult to persuade yourself to do it.
Our society has effectively
commercialized the sports and activities which kids once did “just for fun,”
and turned them into a means to an end.[3]
The simple activity of taking a
walk, however, has withstood the winds of time as it continues to serve no
function outside of itself. The noted author Erling Kagge mentioned this facet
as a core dimension of his love of walking outside:
I
remember that in school, they strived for objectiveness. Tasks had a beginning
and an end, tests got graded, and behavior had a norm. To walk is about
something else. You can reach your goal, only to continue walking the next day.
A hike may last a lifetime. You can walk in one direction and end up at your
starting point.[4]
The contemporary French
philosopher Frederic Gros similarly contrasted the activity of walking to the
world of “sport.” He began his book, A Philosophy of Walking, by
succinctly stating that “walking is not a sport.” Whereas the sports of today
are a matter of techniques and rules, scores and competition, “Putting one foot
in front of the other is child’s play.”[5]
Rashi commented on God’s promise
of “I will walk among you”:
I
will stroll with you in the Garden of Eden, like one of you, and you will not
tremble because of me….[6]
Harkening back to the original
story of Adam and Hava who, following their sin, “heard the sound of God
walking about in the garden” (Bereshit 3:8), Rashi taught that whereas God was
then “walking alone,” following his statutes will earn us the role of “Divine
walking buddies.” But what will be the purpose of that “walk”? Already
granted the promise of material achievement and security, it appears that the
ideal of His presence would not serve any extrinsic value, but rather
the intrinsic value of “the walk” itself.
Internalizing the fundamental
message of Parashat BeHukotai requires an uphill march against the
pressures of our culture and society. In a world where “walking” remains the
sole vestige of an independently valued activity, “walking with God” must
represent for us the ideal of pursuing a life inspired by intrinsic motivations.
[1] Bernard
Suits, The Grasshopper: Games, Life, and Utopia, 3rd ed.
(Peterborough, Ont., 2014), pg. 182-95.
[2] R. Yisshak Hutner, Pahad
Yisshak: Igerot UKetavim (Brooklyn, NY, 1991), no, 2. See, as well, R,
Moshe Shapiro’s elaboration of this idea in UMessarah LeYehoshua (Jerusalem,
IS, 2017), pg. 72. And cf. Yaakov Elman, “Pahad Yitzhak: A Joyful Song
of Affirmation,” Hakirah 20 (Winter 2015), pg. 49.
[3] KJ Dell’Antonia, “How High
School Ruined Leisure: Will kids still do what they like when it won’t help
them get into college?” The New York Times, May 18, 2019.
[4] Erling Kagge, Walking: One
Step at a Time (New York, NY, 2019), pg. 148.
[5] Frederic Gros, A Philosophy
of Walking (London, UK, 2015), pg. 1-2.
[6] Commentary
of Rashi to VaYikra 26:12, s.v. ve-hit’halakhti.
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