Aspaqlaria

It is interesting to contrast the Chinukh’s description of terumah, the first gift taken from one’s produce, given to a kohein, with his description of ma’aser rishon, the tenth given to the levi’im.

Terumah, mitzvah #507:

…
משרשי המצוה, לפי שהדגן והתירוש והיצהר הן עיקר מחיתן של בריות, והעולם כולו להקדוש ברוך הוא הוא, על כן ראוי לאדם לזכור את בוראו על הברכה אשר ברכו ושיפריש קצת ממנו לשמו ברוך הוא, ויתננו למשרתיו שהם הכהנים העסוקים תמיד במלאכת שמים טרם יגע בו יד אדם ויהנה ממנו כלל. ומן היסוד הזה אמרו זכרונם לברכה שאפילו חטה אחת פוטרת את הכרי, כי זכירת האדנות על הדבר אין הפרש בין רב למעט. אמנם רבותינו זכרונם לברכה הוסיפו בדבר לתת בו שיעור ראוי כדי שיתעורר לב האדם בענין יותר…

From the roots of the mitzah: Because grain, vine and olive crops are the essence of what keeps people alive. The whole world is the Holy One’s (blessed be He). Therefore it is appropriate for a person to remember his Creator for the blessing which he blessed him, and separate a little of it for His sake (blessed be He), and to give it to his servants — which are the kohanim who are constantly busy with the work of heaven — before anyone’s hand touches it and gets any benefit from it. From this foundation, [our Sages] of blessed memory said that even one wheat stalk can permit an entire stack. Remembering the Mastery [of G-d] with something makes no difference whether it is a lot or a little. However, our Rabbis of blessed memory added in one thing to give it a [minimum] appropriate amount in order to awaken people’s hearts on this subject…

Terumah is  described as something between man and his Creator. In order to acknowledge that the crops come from Hashem and really belong to Him, we are obligated to give some to His representative, the kohein, before enjoying any ourselves. Torahitically, there is no amount that needs to be given because terumah is about the act of giving which is required .

Ma’aser rishon, mitzvah #395:

…
משרשי המצוה, לפי ששבט הלוי בחר השם בתוך אחיו לעבודתו תמיד במקדשו, על כן היה מחסדו עליהם לתת להם מחיתם דרך כבוד, כי כן יאות למשרתי המלך שתהיה ארוחתם מזומנת להם על ידי אחרים שיכינוה להם ולא יצטרכו הם ליגע בדבר זולתי בעבודת המלך היקרה. ואף על פי שהם היו שנים עשר שבטים, ולפי חלוקה שוה היה ראוי שיטלו חלק אחד משנים עשר, גם זה היתרון להם לכבודם, כי מהיותם מבית המלך ראוי שתהיה חלקם יתרה על כולם. ויתרון גדול הוא שיבא להם חלק העשירי נקי מכל הוצאת הקרקע. והמחיה משרתי האל בממונו ברכת השם יתברך תנוח עליו בכל אשר יש לו, וזהו אומרם זכרונם לברכה [אבות פ"ג מי"ג], מעשרות סייג לעושר….

From the roots of the mitzvah: Because the tribe of Levi was chosen by Hashem from among his brothers to serve Him constantly in His sanctuary. Therefore, He bestowed a kindness on them to give them their livelihood in a respectful manner. For this is what’s appropriate for the servants of the king, that theyir meals would be prepared for them by others and they would not have to think about anything except the precious service of the King. Even though there were twelve tribes, and by equal distribution they should have gotten one twelfth [rather than a full tenth], this extra too is for their honor. Because their being of the King’s household makes it appropriate for their portion to be greater than everyone else’s. An even greater extra is that this one tenth portion is given to them without any fieldwork. One who provides for the servants of G-d with his money, a blessing of Hashem yisbarakh rests on him in whatever he did. This is what [our Sages] of blessed memory said, “tithing [maaseros] is a fence around wealth [osher]…”

Ma’aser is about supporting leviim, so that they have no tasks other than serving their King. It is therefore about the food given, and has a set amount — one tenth — as befitting the dignity of their role. Unlike terumah and its acknowledgement of the Source of all crops, ma’aser is an interpersonal mitzvah.

We can also use this distinction to explain why leviim can forgive the debt of their maaser, but a kohein can not do the same for terumah. Terumah isn’t the kohein‘s, he is eating “from the King’s table”. The point is the farmer or buyer’s need to give, not on the recipient.

Similarly, we can also suggest that this is why terumah is given before ma’aser. It serves a similar role to berakhos. Until we acknowledge Hashem’s role in creating the crop, it is not ours to give to the levi’im.

One is about acknowledging G-d, and the primary gift is the giving itself. The other is about supporting those who serve Him, and therefore about the food they require. Two similar seeming mitzvos that are at their root, very different things.

So there I was, first day of calculus class, and the professor, Dr Leon Ehrenpreis^z”l hands out a xerox of a page of gemara. The blatt is Sukkah 8a, a conversation of the minimum size of a sukkah, and what it would mean for someone who makes a circular sukkah – do we need to match the diameter of the circle to the length of the smallest square, does the sukkah have to large enough to encompass the smallest square, or a position in the middle, that it be the same in area? In discussing this last position, the gemara explains that the area must be 3*r*r, the limit of approximating πr² that is “close enough” for halakhah.

Tosafos then set out to prove that given that the circumference of a circle is π times the diameter (2πr), this would be the area of the circle. These diagrams are reproduced from the Tosafos as it appears in the Vilna Shas.

1. In the top left, we see the circle filled with cocentric strings. The outer string must be πd = 2πr long, since it’s the outside of the circle.
2. We then cut the strings from one edge to the middle, as denoted by the white radius.
3. Unwrap the strings, producing the triangle on the right. This triangle’s rightmost string is the old 2πr string.
4. Now cut the strings from the obtuse point down the middle, again, as denoted by the white line. This will produce two right triangles, of the same area as the first one. Each triangle has a horizontal side of r, and a vertical side, half that long strong, of πr.
5. Rearranging the right triangles, we get the rectangle shown in the bottom left. The rectangle’s short side is the side we already identified as being r wide, and the long side is πr.
6. The area of the rectangle is thus r*πr =πr², and since that’s the string we started with, that means the area of the original circle must be πr² as well.

However, Dr Ehrenpreis noted,  this proof isn’t what a contemportary mathemetician would consider rigorous. Rather than strings of finite width, what would happen if we use ever skinnier “strings” and procressively approached the limit of  an infinite number of them, each of zero width..

And that’s how Dr Ehrenpreis introduced the notion of limits, with which he began teaching calculus in earnest.

But to the man who also worked as Rabbi Eliezer Ehrenpreis, there was much less value to math without connecting it to Torah. Secular and knowledge as one seamless whole — an example of a life lived with Torah im Derekh Eretz.

He gave a course titled “Modern Scientific and Mathematical Concepts in the Babylonian Talmud”, where we explored topics like how the machloqes about whether Adam was created as a newborn or at the same point of development as a 20 yr old could explain debates about the international date line. (Was the sun created at dawn or at noon over Jerusalem?) How using set theory and the notion of classes might explain the difference between doubts that are resolved by probability, and those considered qavu’ah. (A question that stuck with me so much, I eventually developed the ideas in this post. A different resolution.) Or how the question of the age of the universe is meaningless, since the physical constants — those concepts that divide the quantum uncertain world from the commonsensical one, the relativity that defines time itself and its speed of flow — the constants themselves were being created. And if the one constant called alpha, a ratio of most of the other fundamental constants of physics, was shrinking asymptotically to its current value until the revalation at Sinai (as implied by the medrash linking “the sixth day” to the sixth day of Iyyar, when we reached Mt Sinai), then it’s quite possible the rainbow wasn’t visible to the human eye until after the flood.

Dr Ehrenpreis was one of the five most famous mathematicians of the generation. He not only appeared regularly in the journals at age 77 in a field where you proverbially peak at 27, there were conferences held and journals published in his honor. A chair was inaugurated for him at Temple University. On Dr Claude Chevalley‘s Wikipedia page,  his having Dr Ehrenpreis as his PhD student in Princeton is among his listed accomplishments.

But we’re also speaking of a man who embraced Torah observance later in life back in a time when no one spoke of “kiruv“, “baalei teshuvah“, never mind “BTs”. He studied under Rabbi Yehudah Davis and then Rav Moshe Feinstein. Legend around YU had it that he received semichah from Rav Moshe a mere 5 years after the first time he opened a gemara.

Meeting Rabbi Ehrenpreis might have posed a halachic problem: Do I say the berakah of “שנתן מחכמתו לבשר ודם — … Who gave from His Wisdom to flesh and blood”, the blessing made on meeting a superlative secular scholar? Or do I say the berakhah “שחלק מחכמתו ליראיו — Who apportioned from His Wisdom to those who have yir’ah of Him” being that this is one of the most brilliant minds I ever met who studied Torah? Do I say both — and if so, which comes first?

But in truth, the question wouldn’t have come up even if I thought of it. The berakhah is said when awestruck by someone’s wisdom. And Rabbi Ehrenpreis was too down to earth to leave anyone awestruck. This was also the man who ran in every NY Marathon from its inception in 1970 until he got too ill in 2007. Ran in 37 marathons — and completed all 37, holding a record for the oldest person to complete the marathon by a large margin.

Yes, he enjoyed discussing intellectual pursuits. He leined from the Torah with a precision and meticulousness that showed the same inclinations that made him successful in math. He more than enjoyed teaching, he had a deep-seated need to teach.

And that need to give wasn’t merely the ego of someone who knew he was more intelligent than the others in the room. It extended to his giving tzedaqah; Rabbi Ehrenpreis was the kind of man charities repeatedly honored. His Shabbos table constantly had guests. There was always someone in need of a place to stay borrowing a guest room.

But he would not talk math with another Jewish mathemetician (regardless of religious affiliation) without the conversation ending up in both Torah and in catching up on what’s going on in their lives.  A world-class genius, yes. But he had no more problem finding what to speak about with his children who inherited that intellect as he did with his son who has Downs. And he could find what to say to the homeless person who sat next to him on the subway. The woman who cleaned the trash in his hospital was struck by how Rabbi Ehrenpreis would remember her son’s name and ask about him. Awestruck by Rabbi Ehrenpreis? Never in his presence.

Rabbi Dr Eliezer Ehrenpreis passed away An examplar of Torah im Derekh Eretz, of chessed, of “accepting all people with a beautiful expression on the face” regardless of the events in his own life, of connecting to others. A Renaissance Man who was one of my heros.

תהא נשמתו צרורה בצרור החיים
May his Soul be bound in the bond of life

As I write this, it’s a few hours before Rosh Chodesh Elul. For many people, a time for choosing chumeros, stringencies in those areas of our lives that could use that extra attention.

The Daf Yerushalmi Yomi recently learned Shevi’is 20a (in the Vilna edition) 7:20. The gemara is citing a Tosefta (Maaseros 1:2):

התני הסיאה והאיזוב והקורנס שהובילו לחצר אבל אם היתה שניי’ נכנסת לשלישית שלישית מששית לשביעית ששית הכא את מני לחוריה וכא את מני לקומיה אמר רבי יוסי שלישית וששית אע”פ שאין בהן מע”ש יש בהן מעשרות שביעית אין בה מעשר כלל לא כן אמר רבי אבהו בשם רבי יוחנן לית כאן מששית לשביעית ששית אלא שביעית מן ברשות בעלים ברם הכא ברשות עני הן מוטב ליתן ליה אחד בודאי ולא שנים בספק

Doesn’t it say in the [Tosefta], “Si’ah, hyssop and qornos [three herbs that general grow wild] that were brought into the yard: If they were [plants] of the second [year of the shemittah cycle] going into the third [and now they are brought into the yard], they are of the third year [in terms of tithing]. If they were from the sixth year going into the seventh [sabbatical] year, they have the law of the sixth.” — this [case] one counts to the later [the third year], and here one counts to the earlier [sixth] year???

Rabbi Yosi said: The third and sixth [years] even though they do not have maaser sheini [a tithe eaten by the owner but only in Jerusalem], they do have maaser [-- they have the tithe given to the poor]. The seventh year does not have maaser at all.

Didn’t Rabbi Avohu say the same in the name of Rabbi Yochanan? “From the sixth going into the seventh [ie sabbatical year] is not of the sixth year but of the seventh — that is only with respect to the control of the owners, however here it is about the control of the poor. It is better to give that one with certainty, that two give two [for the earlier and later year] in doubt.

After terumah is given to the kohanim, and maaser rishon, the first tenth, is given to the leviim, the second tenth has different dispositions depending on which year it is in the shemittah cycle. In the first, second, fourth and fifth years, it is eaten by the owner in Jerusalem. In the third and sixth years, it is given  to the poor. (In addition to the other parts of the crop which are given to the poor as well as the usual obligation of tzedaqah.) On the seventh, shemittah, year, the crops are holy, ownerless, and thus there is no tithing of any sort.

Here we have a plant that in general grows wild, and therefore isn’t subject to maaser. However, in this particular case the person takes the plant and allows it to finish growing in his vegetable patch. And a new year began in between Does the herb follow the year it was grown, or the year it became subject to the obligation? The shenuttah cycle is rabbinic at times when most Jews live outside of Israel, and thus the Sages had leeway as to how to label the years with respect to tithing. The Yerushalmi tells us that in order to avoid giving two kinds of maaser in doubt, the Tosefta rule stringently.

All of the above is by way of background. What I want to point out is their definition of stringency:

When in doubt whether to group something with the second year, and thus the maaser is part of a spiritual pilgrimage to Jerusalem, or with the third, and thus the maaser is given to the poor — “stringency” means giving to the poor. Similarly, if it’s between declaring the food sacred or giving it to the poor — give it to the poor.

When I posted a version of the above to Avodah (corrected off-list by REMT, thank you!) R’ Danniel Shoemann pointed me to a similar chumerah in Chagiga 3b (quoting Mishnah Yadayim 4:3). In sefer Bamidbar, we conquer the lands of Amon and Moav from the Emori (who in turn had won them from the Amoni and Moavi) and after the wars in the book of Yehoshua they are settled by the people of Re’uvein, Gad, and half of the tribe of Menashah. (This is the land just east of the much of the Jordan river, in the western part of the current country of Jordan.) However, the land is not resettled by Jews in the second time around, in the days of Ezra. Shemittah only applies to lands conquered in the days of Ezra, or those lands with Jewish populations next to it that the law was rabbinicly extended to.

Rabbi Yochanan says that this does not include Amon and Moav with respect to shemittah, but one is obligated to give maaser from crops grown in that area. Given that the second tithe differs depending upon the year of the cycle, but in Israel proper there is no tithe for the shemittah year, what does one do in the seventh year in Amon and Moav? Rabbi Yochanan (note: the same Rabbi Yochanan as in the gemara I quoted) rules that one gives maaser ani to the poor.

Hunting for spiritual experiences or prohibiting things so as to avoid doubt are NOT appropriate chumeros if it means difficulties for others! Quite on the contrary — the gemara recommends starting with being stringent in how we extend aid…

כל הכלים שעשה משה כשרים לו וכשרים לדורות, חצוצרות ־ כשרות לו ופסולות לדורות.

All the vessels that Moshe made were valid for him and valid for future generations, [except for] the chatzotzros ([silver] trumpets) which were valid for him but invalid for future generations.

-Menachos 28b

While it is permissible to use a 100 year old shofar, or in the beis hamiqdash, an ancient menorah, mizbeiach or shulchan, each generation that has a beis hamiqdash in which to use it has to make its own chatzotzros. Why the difference?

Yahadus walks a tight balance between the permanence of its message, and its relevance to people in very different contexts who are living in different times. The call of the shofar is eternal, and thus a shofar is not invalidated by age. However, in contrast to the raw, natural, shofar, the silver chatzotzros are man-made. Their message changes as people do. The call of the chatzotzros is distinct for the generation.

This thought dovetails well with the one I played with in “My Life as a Pendulum“. Some excerpts:

…

Many science museums have a large Foucault Pendulum. This pendulum is typically strung from a point on the ceiling, and the weight barely touches the surface of a sand stable on the floor. Over time, a trail in the sand develops, showing you where the pendulum has been.

Obviously, the pattern is primarily repetitive, back and forth.

However, the line that swinging draws rotates over time. In reality, the pendulum doesn’t rotate. It is fixed, absolute, staying on the same plane. It is the world that is changing, rotating beneath it. …

His students asked Rabbi Zakai, “For what [were you granted] long life?” He said to them, “In all my days, I never urinated within a distance of four amos from where I prayed, I never gave another person a nickname, and I never failed to recite kiddush; I had an elderly mother, and once she sold her hat in order to obtain the means to bring me wine for kiddush.” …
His students asked Rabbi Elazar bar Shamua’, “For what [were you granted] long life?” He said to them, “In all my days, I never made a shortcut out of the beis medrash; I never tread on the heads of the sacred people; and I never lifted my hands [to bless the people as a kohein] without making the blessing first.”
His students asked Rabbi Pereidah…
His students asked Rabbi Nechunia ben haQanah….
Rabbi Aqiva asked Rabbi Nechunia haGadol…
Rebbe asked Rabbi Yehoshua ben Qorchah … long life?” … He said to him, “In all my days, I never looked at the image of an evil person.”

- Megillah 27a

Notice that all these rabbis gave multiple answers, and one one of them coincided. One theme does shine through, “miyamai — in all my days”. Consistency. What’s the key to long life? Finding one’s approach to serving Hashem, and sticking to it, day in day out.

The pendulum.

This is not simple repetitiveness; the consistency must adapt itself as the world we find ourselves in changes. It is sacred commitment to our mission, and thereby maintaining the connection to the Absolute Immobile Source.

רבי יוחנן מפקד מלבשוני (ביריריקא) [בורידיקא] לא חיוורין ולא אוכמין אין קמית ביני צדיקייא לא גבהת אין קימת ביני רשיעיא לא גבהת.  רבי יאישה מפקד אלבשוני חוורין חפיתין.  אמרין ליה ומה את טב מן רבך.  אמר לון ומה אנא בהית בעבדאי.

Rabbi Yochanan arranged [for his death]: Dress me not in blue [shrouds], not in white ones or in black ones. If I will arise among the righteous, I will not be uncomfortable [because I won't be in black]; and if I arise among the wicked, I won’t be uncomfortable [because I won't be in white].

Rabbi Yoshiyah arranged: dress me in  in nicely sown white shrouds.

They said to him: And what? Are you better than your rebbe [Rabbi Yochanan]?

He said to them: And what? Do you think I am afraid of my deeds?

– Yerushalmi Kelayim 9:2, 42a; Bereishis Rabba 100:3

(This is not the usual Rabbi Yoshiah, who was a second century tanna and thus couldn’t have been a student of Rabbi Yochanan over one hundred years later.)

How does Rabbi Yoshiyah answer their question? Why was he less afraid of his deeds than Rabbi Yochanan was?

Rav Shelomo Wolbe zt”l writes an essay in Alei Shur vol I titled “Hahevdel bein haDoros” about the need to speak to each generation in its own voice — and in particular, that Mussar is particularly sensitive to this phenomenon. Each generation has its own Mussar. The Mussar of dark rooms and fear of death of the early movement wasn’t that of Slabodka. And of our generation R’ Wolbe writes, “The beginning of the way of anyone who learns Mussar today needs to be: learn the elevatedness of a human. He must climb the ladder that leads to awareness of greatness.” One generation is motivated by one thing; people in a different milieu living within a different culture need a different presentation. Loyal to the same truth, but cognizant of the strengths and weaknesses of its people and of the lives they lead.

I would suggest that the difference between Rav Yochanan and Rav Yoshiah was not as much that one was uncertain of his merit, and the other wasn’t. Rather, Rav Yoshiah’s generation is one in which he must make them feel secure. “And what? Do you think I’m afraid of my deeds?” The means of motivating the masses changed in the generation between them.

Perhaps this is why some parts of our goal in life were not spelled out in the shofar‘s tones of halakhah and its process, but instead left as values that we, through Mussar, must determine for ourselves how to inculcate. The call of the chatzotzros.

This post, like the one I blogged last week, reflects a conversation with R’ Rich Wolpoe and R’ Ben Hecht on NishmaBlog and email, on the topic of R’ Nathan Lopez Cardozo’s “On the Nature and Future of Halakha in Relation to Autonomous Religiosity“. That issue appears to be closely tied to the role of communal pesaq, and why do we need some kind of unity in practice, anyway. Comments on that blog entry also revolve around the role of communal acceptance of a particular pesaq and how that creates authority.

How do we balance that communal nature of a halachic community, of being a Chosen People, with the individual’s personal perspective and unique nature? And how does that balance express itself how halachic rulings should be made and followed?

Both Mussar and Self Help involve a definition of the ideal, becoming cognizant of the real, and finding a path from the real to the ideal. Where things differ is in who defines the ideal. In Self Help, the focus is on actualizing the person you wish to be. Thus there is a focus on personal choice, doing your own thing, and autonomy.

In Mussar, it’s to become the person Hashem created you to be. For that matter, the same could be said of the Yeshiva Movement, and the ideal Jew as described in Rav Chaim Volozhiner’s Nefesh haChaim. The split within Lithuania was about the amount of conscious effort one must place in the task of refining oneself. Rav Yisrael Salanter taught that one must actively pursue middah work. The Yeshiva Movement as it evolved in Volozhin and its daughter schools taught that Torah in-and-of-itself will effect this change, and one need only set out to study Torah, with the traditional focus on talmud and halakhah to become the people Hashem created us to be.

To that contrast, let me add a third alternative (in addition to self-help and Mussar): In Chassidus, the ideal is to cleave to G-d. There is a definition of an ideal person, although not phrased in terms of personal refinement but rather in how he relates to the Almighty. And so we can say that in both in the Vilna Gaon’s legacy and in that of the Baal Shem Tov, Judaism is defined in terms of personal becoming — whether it a process of becoming ever more shaleim (whole) or davuq (attached [to the Creator]), respectively.

And for that matter, Rav Hirsch’s approach to the purpose of mitzvos is as symbols and actions that inculcate lessons — and therefore also phrased as a personal transformation.

Given this focus, where then does national membership belong? Shouldn’t we each just follow those halachic positions that best express our own, personal, religiosity? R’ Cardozo’s playing down the role of codification is all about using the fluidity that would enable to better find meaningful religious experience. And yet I objected entirely because I assigned an importance to conformity, and in particular to the extent that we’re taught that accepted precedent is binding and closes the door on practicing the alternative. Why?

If we were discussing self-help this question would be valid. If self refinement were to be the person I defined as ideal, then such limitations would have not place.

However, an ideal of sheleimus and deveiqus defines an ideal in which each individual’s meaning is found as part of the whole. In playing a role in a larger community. Someone who tries to live as a metaphoric island can not be whole.

Kelal Yisrael is a corporate entity of which the Rambam in Seifer haMitzvos can discuss mitzvos that apply between two Jews in terms of “haqatzeh el haqatzeh”, what “one end” does to “another end”. But Israel is also a set of Jews, a number of individuals.

The Rav argued that beris Noach and beris avos were covenants made between G-d and individuals, Noach and the forefathers respectively. Whereas beris Sinai created a corporate entity — the Jewish People. And from this he draws distinctions between stories in Bereishis and how we observe Torah today.

Personally, I would have made the personal covenent vs. national covenent distinction later, between the two berisim Hashem makes with us in the desert — at Sinai, and “the words of the beris … aside from the beris which He made with them in Horeb” (Devarim 28:69) at the plains of Moav. It is in describing this latter covenent that was given shortly before crossing the Jordan into Israel in which Hashem relays most of the nation-building laws of the Torah.

Rabbi Hecht beautifully described the national character of Torah as:

… [W]hat we may term the model of the symphony which advocates for the a collective of individuals who are actualizing their individuality but in a collective manner so that the result is greater than the sum of the parts…

The Ramban (among numerous others) likens the Jews to organs in a body. It’s like the symphony model. Not uniformity in action, but unity though each playing a different part toward the same combined action.

Or, putting it in the covenental terms — the beris at the plains of Moav had to come after a generation of people raised in a mileu of the beris Sinai. However, beris Sinai couldn’t be complete without it. Until the details spelled out in Devarim, given at Arvos Moav, there was only an incomplete definition of the entity the individual is to try to be an effective part of. At Sinai we were given the tools to learn how to play music, if we chose to pick them up. But at Arvos Moav the musicians were given the score to which the orchestra will be playing.

Does this deny the idea we saw in common in all those schools of thought that place the centrality of halakhah in how it shapes the person following it? Not at all! The goal is to be the best musician you can, to choose the instrument best suited to your proclivities and abilities and master it.

By giving us free will, Hashem offers us autonomy in two ways — first, we could choose to violate the beris. We have bechirah whether or not to fulfill the terms of the covenant. But even within conforming, we can choose our intrument. And a point somewhere in between these two extremes, by choosing how much we invest in studying music we have some input into whether that role in the symphony is first violin, or part of the chorus. Between the skills with which we were blessed, how and if we choose to develop them, we have some autonomy in our choice of role to play in the orchestra.

This post is in response to R’ Nathan Lopez Cordozo’s “On the Nature and Future of Halakha in Relation to Autonomous Religiosity” on the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals web site.

First to quote some points with which I firmly agree:

I teach Jewish Philosophy. I am confronted daily with countless young Jews who search for an authentic Jewish religious way of life, but are unable to find spiritual satisfaction in the prevalent halakhic system as practiced today in most Ultra or Modern-Orthodox communities. For many of them, typical halakhic life is not synonymous with genuine religiosity. They feel that halakha has become too monotonous, too standardized and too external for them to experience the presence of God on a day-to-day basis. Beyond “observance”, they look for holiness and meaning. Many of them feel there is too much formalism in the halakhic system, and not enough internal meaning; too much obedience and not enough room for the individualistic soul, or for religious spontaneity.

…

A careful read of modern Jewish Orthodox literature reveals that many authors misunderstand the nature of Jewish law. Much of this literature is dedicated to extreme and obsessive codification, which goes hand in hand with a desire to “fix” halakha once and for all. The laws of muktzeh, tevilath kelim, tzeniut and many others are codified in much greater detail than ever before. These works have become the standard by which the young growing observant community lives its life. When studying them one wonders whether our forefathers were ever really observant, since such compendia were never available to them and they could never have known all the minutiae presented today to the observant Jew. Over the years we have embalmed Judaism while claiming it is alive because it continues to maintain its external shape.

The majority of halakhic literature today is streamlined, allowing little room for halakhic flexibility and for the spiritual need for novelty. For the most part, the reader is encouraged to follow the most stringent view without asking whether this will actually help her or him in their Avodath Ha-Borei (service of the Almighty) according to her or his distinct personality. The song of the halakha, its spirit and mission are entirely lost in this type of literature. When the student looks beyond these works seeking music, he is often confronted with a dogmatic approach to Judaism which entirely misses the mark. We are plagued by over-codification and dogmatization.

Another obsessive attempt which contrasts the very nature of Judaism is the attempt to codify Jewish beliefs. Jewish beliefs are constantly dogmatized and halakhicized by rabbinic authorities, and anyone who does not accept these rigid beliefs is no longer considered to be a real religious Jew. A spirit of finalization has taken over Judaism.

An easy example is a comparison of R’ Maurice Lamm’s “The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning” with a more recent guide for the aveil, such as ArtScroll’s “Mourning in Halachah”. The former weaves together halakhah, agadah, and the experience of the mourner in the current generation.

However, I feel that R’ Cardozo, in his battle against ossification, errs too far on the other side. I do not know if it’s his actual position, the article appears to say that he is intentionally being provocative in order to spark a dialog:

Surely there are many arguments which can be brought against the contents of this essay, some of which I can point to myself. However, the purpose of this essay is to get people thinking, not to claim the definitive truth of my observations and suggestions.

I am fully aware that the views expressed may not be palatable to most bona fide and respected poskim. My analysis and suggestions will probably not carry their approval. I hope only to act as a catalyst in the hope that some halakhic authorities and Jewish thinkers will take my suggestions seriously and be prepared to discuss them. They are nothing more than thoughts which came to mind when contemplating and discussing these issues with students.

That said, he ties the current spate of quickie guides for the sound-bite generation, “just give me the bottom line” to the objections against codification in the days of the rishonim.

Over the last five hundred years, famous rabbinic leaders have called to limit the overwhelming authority of Rabbi Josef Karo’s Shulhan Arukh and Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah. They felt that these works do not reflect authentic Judaism and its halakhic tradition. The reason is obvious. Both these great codes of Jewish Law are very un-Jewish in spirit. They present halakha in ways which oppose the heart and soul of the Talmud, and therefore of Judaism itself. They deprived Judaism of its multifaceted halakhic tradition and its inherent music. It is not the works themselves which are the problem but the ideology which they represent: The ethos of codifying and finalizing Jewish Law.

…

Halakha is the practical upshot of un-finalized beliefs, a practical way of life while remaining in theological suspense. In matters of the spirit and the quest to find God, it is not possible to come to final conclusions. The quest for God must remain open-ended to enable the human spirit to find its way through trial and discovery. As such, Judaism has no catechism. It has an inherent aversion to dogma. Although it includes strong beliefs, they are not susceptible to formulation in any kind of authoritative system. It is up to the Talmudic scholar to choose between many opinions, for they are all authentic. They are part of God’s Torah, and even opposing opinions “are all from one Shepherd” (Hagiga 3b).

…

Three early authorities were deeply concerned about this development: Rabbi Shelomo Luria, known as Maharshal (1510-1573); Rabbi Yehudah Low ben Betzalel, known as the Maharal of Prague (1520-1609); and Rabbi Haim Ben Betzalel (1530-1588), brother of the Maharal. Each in his own way attacked the Mishneh Torah and the Shulhan Arukh, claiming they were anti-Talmudic and therefore anti-halakhic. Maharshal accused Maimonides of acting “as if (he) received it (the Mishneh Torah) directly from Moshe at Mount Sinai who received it directly from Heaven, offering no proof …” (Yam shel Shelomo, Introduction to Bava Kama). Directing his attack to Rabbi Joseph Karo’s Shulhan Arukh in which the author follows the majority opinion of three authorities (Rif, Rosh and Maimonides), Maharshal asked how the author had the right to do so. Did Rabbi Joseph Karo receive such a tradition going back to the days of the sages? (ibid)

Maharshal goes on to state that the Shulhan Arukh’s entire enterprise is dangerous. Those who study it will come to believe that what Rabbi Joseph Karo wrote has finality…

R’ Cardozo, by going further than most of his audience would be (and I will argue below — should be) willing to, loses that audience with respect to the primary problem. The same flaw can be found in Rav Gidon Rothstein’s response to the article, “Halacha and Autonomous Religiosity: What’s the Problem?” on the RCA‘s blog, Text and Texture. In response to an article which suggests too much fluidity in halakhah, he posits a more rigid definition of halakhah than commonly accepted.

As to Talmudic times, the Tosefta in Sotah 14;9, cited in Sanhedrin 98b, blames the multiplicity of debates on students’ failure to study properly, hardly an encomium for diversity of opinion in the halachic world; turning to elu va-elu itself, while Kabbalists did, indeed, find an interpretation in which it meant that all those opinions were right, most rishonim (and R. Moshe Feinstein, in his introduction to Iggerot Moshe) understand the phrase as allowing us to tolerate a wrong opinion as long as it was reached through valid process.  Indeed, the general understanding of the mitzvah to follow majority rule—and the largely-ignored obligation of lo titgodedu, not to have Jewish communities be split by multiple forms of practice– seems to prefer avoiding precisely the kinds of splits R. Cardozo wants to uphold as an ideal.

And in a response to a comment on that blog entry, R’ Rothstein adds, “…it seems to me that Elu Va-Elu was taken in a completely different direction from about the 15th century on, a guess that ties in to my PhD dissertation and my feelings about detours of Jewish thought, but that’s not for here…”

However, as we saw in the past, the notion that halakhah contains “49 ways to declare [something] impure and 49 ways to declare [it] pure” is a more clear-cut source for plurality than the talmud about eilu va’eilu“. For sources in the gemara, Rashi, the Ran (who was a rationalist, not a Qabbalist), and numerous other pre-15th cent. CE baalei mesorah, please see my summary of articles on the subject by R’ Moshe Halbertal (“Controversy in Halacha“) and R’ Michael Rosensweig (“Elu Va-Elu Divre Elokim Hayyim: Halakhic Pluralism And Theories Of Controversy“).

I also find an interesting point of commonality between the two positions. R’ Marc Angel questions the binding nature of evolution to halakhah since the gemara. R’ Gidon Rothstein questions the significance of the evolution of aggadita since the rishonim. Both are therefore calling for some sort of roll back to what they believe to be an earlier state that was more to their liking. (And neither describe the past as I would.)

To present my own take on the subject…

I think there is a major failing in his essay in not clearly distinguishing between codification and the need for codification. When we say that Rebbe’s decision to codify the mishnah was an instance of overturning a specific law for the sake of the whole (“eis la’asos Lashem, heifeiru Sorasekha — it’s time to do for G-d, overturn Your Torah”), we’re clearly saying the situation was a step down. BUT, that doesn’t mean that codifying — whether the Medrashei Halakhah completed before Rebbe’s day, his completion of the Mishnah, the Tosefta, the Talmuds, the Beha”g, the Rif, the Rambam, the Tur, the Shulchan Arukh, the Rama, the Levush, the Shulchan Arukh haRav, the Chayei Adam, the Qitzur, the Arukh haShulchan, the Mishnah Berurah, the Ben Ish Hai, etc, etc, etc.. were themselves a bad idea. It is sad when we reach an impasse that requires a new round of codification. But when we do need it, producing a code is the right response. It is not codification itself which is ill, and until we repair the cause for the need, the progressive codification is still necessary.

The formula the Rambam uses to describe the what gave the Talmud Bavli its binding nature is that it was accepted by “all of Israel”. Not in every one of its rulings, but as the point of origin for further study. And today, across the gamut, semichah studies center around the Shulchan Arukh (with the exception of Bal’adi Teimanim who center their pisqa on the Rambam). The same mechanism which gives the gemara the authority R’ Cardozo attributes to it gives the Shulchan Arukh its authority.
Someone who davens from R’ Saadia Gaon’s (much shorter) siddur, omitting things said by all our communities for centuries, or to take a real case, from Nusach Eretz Yisrael as found in the Cairo Geniza, isn’t following the halachic process. The plurality caused by having a distinctly oral and fluid tradition is part of a stream down time; by leaving that stream, that dialog down the generations, one abandoned the core of Judaism.

Orthodox Jews today are under the impression that the job of religion is to provide answers; and moreso, easy-to-understand answers that can resolve life’s dilemmas in one sitting — all tied up with a nice bow.

In reality, life’s problems are hard. Let me give a story from personal experience. Someone close to me is a baalas teshuvah. The only one in her family in a few generations to embrace observance. And she, like most baalei teshuvah, was presented a worldview in which, if you just believe enough, the only airplane one would miss is the one that was going to crash. (Many of you are familiar with this genre of story that I’m trying to portray.) But she, alone among all her siblings and cousins, went through the crashing pain of losing a daughter. So, where is the “better life” the kiruv professionals led her to expect? Life is not simple, and we do ourselves a disservice pretending it is.

Religion’s job isn’t to resolve life’s struggles, but to give us a meaningful way to grapple with them. Whether we’re talking about our perspective on life, or about pesaq halakhah.

Quick and cut-and-dry one-size-fits-all rulings isn’t how halakhah is supposed to work. While I’m arguing that a ruling that “all of Israel” accepts is binding, we have gone well beyond that with the current proliferation of English halachic guides. There is a feel to the give-and-take of halakhah, to its responses to the costs to the individual, to their personal talents and emotional proclivities, where they stand spiritually, the challenges and gifts Hashem placed in their path, and how they view life, that one really not only needs a human halachic decisor, but preferably one who knows the asker and can help them coordinate a spiritual journey through life.

There is enough room among decisions which have so far not reached universal consenus (“nishpasheit bekhol Yisrael“) nor canonized as the person’s inviolate minhag (eg: qitniyos) to address the contemporary Orthodox Jew’s need for a meaninful spiritual life through a synthesis of religion (aish) and rite (das).

מעשה ברבי ישבב שעמד והחליק את כל נכסיו לעניים. שלח לו ר”ג, “והלא אמרו חומש מנכסיו למצות?” ור”ג לא קודם לאושא היה? ר’ יוסי בר’ בון בשם ר’ לוי: כך היתה הלכה בידם, ושכחוה, ועמדו השנים והסכימו על דעת הראשונים. ללמדך שכל דבר שבית דין נותנין נפשן עליו הוא מתקיים, כמה שנאמר למשה מסיני.
ואתייא כיי דאמר רבי מנא: “כי לא דבר רק הוא מכם” — ואם הוא רק מכם, הוא למה שאין אתם יגיעין בתורה. “כי הוא חייכם” — אימתי הוא חייכם? כשאתם יגיעי’ בו.
רבי תנחומא בשם רב הונא: (שמות לה) “ובצלאל בן אורי בן חור למטה יהודה עשה את כל אשר צוה ה’ את משה”. “אותו משה” אין כתיב כאן אלא “אשר צוה ה’ את משה” — אפי’ דברים שלא שמע מפי רבו, הסכימה דעתו כמה שנאמר למשה מסיני.
ר’ יוחנן בשם ר’ בניי: “כאשר צוה ה’ את משה עבדו” כן צוה משה את יהושע, וכן עשה יהושע. “לא הסיר דבר מכל אשר צוה ה’ את משה” — “אותו משה” אין כתיב כאן, אלא “מכל אשר צוה ה’ את משה” — אפי’ דברים שלא שמע מפי משה הסכימה דעתו כמה שנאמר למשה מסיני.

An event with Rabbi Yeshovav, that he stood and divided all his property amongst the poor. Rabban Gamliel sent for him.  ”Didn’t they say [that a most] one fifth of his property [should be spent] for mitzvos?”

But wasn’t Rabban Gamliel before Usha [where they ruled this law about one fifth]?

Rabbi Yosi beRabbi Bun in the name of Rabbi Levi: This was the accepted law in their hands. It was forgotten, and the later ones established and agreed to the intent of the early ones. This comes to teach you that anything a court puts their souls into endures, as though it was said to Moshe from Sinai.

This goes like that which Rabbi Mana said: “For it is not an empty thing from you” — and if it were empty, it would be because you didn’t study the Torah deeply. “For it is your life” — when is it your life? Then you do study Torah deeply.

Rabbi Tanchuma in the name of Rabbi Huna: “And Betzalel ben Uri ben Chur of the tribe of Yehudah did all that Hashem commanded Moshe.” It doesn’t say here “that Moshe commanded him”, just “that Hashem commanded Moshe”. Even things which [Betzalel] did not hear from his rebbe’s [Moshe's] mouth, his idea agreed [with the rest of the Torah, or perhaps: with the Will of G-d] as though it were said to Moshe from Sinai.

Rabbi Yochanan in the name of Rabbi Benayei: “As Hashem commanded his servant Moshe” so Moshe commanded Yehoshua, and so Yehoshua did. “He did not veer from anything that Hashem commanded Moshe” — it doesn’t say here “that Moshe commanded him”, rather “from all that Hashem commended Moshe”. Even things which he didn’t hear from Moshe is ideas agreed [with the rest of the Torah] as though it were said to Moshe from Sinai.

– Yerushalmi Pei’ah 1:1, 3a
(see also a Yerushami Shevi’is 1:5, 2b for a discussion similar to the first part of the above)

… הזורע את שדהו שני מיני חטים: עשאן גורן א’, נותן פאה אחת. עשאן שתי גרנות, נותן שתי פאות.

מעשה שזרע ר”ש איש המצפה לפני ר”ג ועלו ללשכת הגזית ושאלו אמר נחום הלבלר מקובל אני מר’ מישא שקיבל מאבא שקיבל מן הזוגות שקיבלו מן הנביאים הלכה למשה מסיני בזורע את שדהו שני מיני חטים עשאן גורן אחת נותן פאה אחת עשאן שתי גרנות נותן שתי פאות:

… Someone who plants his field with two breeds of wheat: If he make of them one storage in the silo [and thereby treats them as one crop], he gives one pei’ah [corner left over for the poor, in this case from the combined crop]. If he makes of them two storages [treating each breed as its own crop], he must give two pei’os [one from each breed].

An event where Rav Shimon, a man of Mitzpah, planted in front of Rabban Gamliel [such a crop]. They went up to the Chamber of Hewn [Wood, the meeting room for the Sanhedrin in the Beis haMiqdash], and they asked [what to do]. Nachum the Record-Keeper said, “I received from Rabbi Meisha, who received from his father who received from the Pairs [of sages who led the first generations of tannaim, starting with the end of the Great Assembly and of prophecy] who received from the prophets a law [given] to Moshe from Sinai that someone who plants his field with two breeds of wheat: if he makes of them one storage he gives one pei’ah, if he makes of them two storages he must give two pei’os.

– Mishnah Pei’ah 2:4

It seems to me that there are two different means given for how we could receive a law that is considered “halakhah leMoshe miSinai — a law [given] to Moshe from Sinai”.

1. The mishnah states the obvious meaning: Moshe received the law, and it was faithfully transmitted down the ages.
2. The Yerushalmi on the previous chapter gives another possibility — that someone toiled in Torah to discover a result that was certainly given to Moshe, even though it was not then passed on down the generations.

This second possibility requires more analysis.

אמר רבי אילעאי: שאלתי את רבי יהושע, “באלו עומרים פליגי בית שמאי וב”ה?”

אמר לי, “בתורה הזאת, עומר הסמוך לגפה ולגדיש ולבקר ולכלים ושכחו — בית שמאי אומרים ‘אינו שכחה’; ובית הלל אומרים, ‘שכחה’.”

וכשבאתי אצל רבי אליעזר, אמר לי, “לא נחלקו בית שמאי ובית הלל על העומר שהוא סמוך לגפה ולגדיש ולבקר ולכלים ושכחה, שהוא שכחה. ועל מה נחלקו? על העומר שנטלו ונתנו בצד הגפה, בצד הגדיש, בצד הבקר, בצד הכלים, ושכחו. שבית שמאי אומרים, ‘אינו שכחה’, מפני שזכה בו; ובית הלל אומרים, ‘שכחה ‘.”

וכשבאת, והרציתי את הדברים לפני רבי אליעזר בן עזריה, אמר לי, “הברי’ הן הן הדברים שנאמרו למשה בחורב.”

Rabbi Ilai said: I asked Rabbi Yehoshua about which sheaves the Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel disagree. He said to me, “In this Torah: a sheaf that is next to a wall, a stack, a heard or utensils and [the owner] forgot it. Beis Shammai say, “It is not shikhekhah [and thus not sufficiently forgotten for the owner to obligated to leave the sheaf for the poor].” Beis Hillel say, “It is shikhekhah.”

When I went to Rabbi Eliezer, he said to me, “Beis Shammai and Beis Hillel did not disagree about a sheaf that is next to a wall, a stack, a heard or utensils and [the owner] forgot it, that it is shikhekhah. About what did they disagree? About a sheaf that he picked up and placed on the side of a wall, the side of a stack, the side of a heard or the side of utensils. That Beis Shamai say, “It is not shikhekhah” because he put significance to it. Beis Hillel say, “It is shikhekhah” [because the reminder he used is mobile, and not guaranteed to be there later anyway].

And when I came and presented these ideas before Rabbi Elazer ben Azariah, he said to me, “By the Creator! These are the very things that were said to Moshe in Choreiv.”

– Yerushalmi Pei’ah 6:5, Vilna ed. 29a

Here we have the explanation of the scope of a dispute between Beis Hillel and Beis Shammai as being given to Moshe at Mount Sinai (a/k/a Choreiv), and yet the two schools obviously couldn’t have had that dispute until a millennium after the revelation!

But the gemara doesn’t speak of a “halakhah” given to Moshe, but rather “hadevarim” — echoing the first half of the voice from heaven “אלו ואלו דברי א-לוהים חיים הן, והלכה כבית הלל — These and those are the words of the Living G-d, and the halakhah is like Beis Hillel”.  Perhaps Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah was saying that this understanding of the dispute captures at least part of the plurality of thought that Hashem gave Moshe on the topic of grain forgotten near movable but significant items.

In terms of the two types of leMoshe miSinai, though, this truth — an understanding of a dispute a millenium later — must be of the discovery of a truth sort (type 2), and couldn’t possibly have been handed down teacher to student since Horeb.

The Rambam has a famous difficult statement with respect to halakhos leMoshe miSinai. He writes that they are never touched by machloqes. The obvious difficulty — there are countless counterexamples.  (For example, the list of deformities that would render an animal tereifah and thus make any shechitah irrelevant is both halakhah leMoshe miSinai and the subject of numerous disputes.)

It doesn’t fit in the words of the Rambam, but I wish could have used the above distinction to resolve the question. Within halakhos that we know are miSinai because Moshe told Yehoshua who told the Zeqeinim and to on down the generations could in theory lose their details in transmission, and machloqes could ensue.

However, through true yegi’ah beTorah (as the first Yerushalmi puts it, above) one can rediscover a truth that we know must have been given to Moshe. If that truth is a halakhah (rather than a spectrum of divrei E-lokim Chaim), then we would only realize its miSinai nature because it is so clearcut in hindsight that no one would consider an alternative position.As the Talmud puts it, “ללמדך שכל דבר שבית דין נותנין נפשן עליו הוא מתקיים, כמה שנאמר למשה מסיני — to teach you that any matter that a beis din gives over their souls to it endures, as though it was said to Moshe from Sinai.”

As I wrote, though, this can not be the Rambam’s meaning. His exact words in his introduction to his commentary to the mishnah (pg 11 in the Qafech edition) are “כל זמן שיאמר אדם קבלתי כך וכך — any times that a person says ‘I received such and such…’” It is explicitly a received halakhah leMoshe miSinai, and not one discovered through yegi’ah.

Still, the Rambam’s position is difficult as at face value it contradicts statements he himself makes elsewhere. And most other rishonim dispute it. So perhaps this suggestion stands as a possibility without his great name attached to it.

In an earlier entry, Prayers and Requests, I wrote:

Yaaqov avinu lying on his deathbed, tells his son Yoseif:

וַֽאֲנִ֞י נָתַ֧תִּֽי לְךָ֛ שְׁכֶ֥ם אַחַ֖ד עַל־אַחֶ֑יךָ אֲשֶׁ֤ר לָקַ֨חְתִּי֙ מִיַּ֣ד הָֽאֱמֹרִ֔י בְּחַרְבִּ֖י וּבְקַשְׁתִּֽי׃

Also, I gave you one portion (or perhaps, “one thing, [the city of] Shechem”) beyond that of your brothers, which I took from the control of the Emori — becharbi uvqashti — with my sword and with my bow.

- Bereishis 48:22

The Targum Yonasan renders “becharbi uvqashti” as “betzelosi uva’us-hi — with my prayers and my requests”. This is also in Bava Basra 123, “‘Charbi‘ — this is tefillah, ‘qashti‘ – this is baqashah [request].”

…

The Vilna Gaon characterizes two kinds of prayer: tefillah and tachanunim. As [R JB Soloveitchik] notes, as does Rav Hirsch, lehit-pallel is in the reflective; something we do to ourselves. Teaching ourselves to turn to Hashem, and what things ought to be our priorities. Our primary tefillah was therefore organized by Anshei Keneses haGdolah in the sunset of the prophetic period, as a means of impressing us with the art of dialogue with the A-lmighty.Turning to our Father with the needs actually on our mind is called tachanunim. …

(There is much more there, including R’ Soloveitchik’s understanding of “betzelosi uva’us-hi” which differs from my own, how actual prayer is usually some fusion of the two modes, relating this to the opening words of Mesilas Yesharim, etc…)

Adding to these two kinds of prayer the biblical obligation of Shema, and we have the core of Shacharis, from Barekhu until the Torah reading. Three sorts of liturgy.

However, I recently found some notes in which I referred to the Malbim, who identifies a different third mode of liturgy.

וְע֨וֹד אֲנִ֤י מְדַבֵּר֙ וּמִתְפַּלֵּ֔ל וּמִתְוַדֶּה֙ חַטָּאתִ֔י וְחַטַּ֖את עַמִּ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל וּמַפִּ֣יל תְּחִנָּתִ֗י לִפְנֵי֙ יְ-הוָ֣ה אֱ-לֹהַ֔י עַ֖ל הַר־קֹ֥דֶשׁ אֱ-לֹהָֽי׃ וְע֛וֹד אֲנִ֥י מְדַבֵּ֖ר בַּתְּפִלָּ֑ה…

And I am still speaking, and mispallel and confessing my sins and the sins of my nation Israel, and putting my techinos down before Hashem my G-d on the holy mountain of G-d. And I am still speaking in prayer…

- Daniel 9:20-21

כפל מבואר: ועוד אני מדבר, תפלות אחרות שלא נזכר פה, והיה בתפלתו ג’ סדרים,
א] תפלה שגדרו שפיכת הנפש והדבקה באלהים, ועז”א מדבר ומתפלל,
ב] ווידוי ומתודה,
ג] תחנה שהיא בקשה פרטית, עז”א ומפיל תחנתי שהיא התחנה הפרטית בעבור הר קדש של א-להי שזה היה עקר תחנתו:

The doubling is explainable: “And still I speak”, other prayers which aren’t mentioned here.  And there were three orders (sedarim) in his prayer:

1. The tefilah whose limits are the pouring out of the soul and deveiqus (attaching oneself) to G-d. And about this [the verse] says, “speaking umispallel – and praying”;
2. Confessing — “and confessing [my sins...]“
3. Techunah which is personal requests. About this [it says] “and put my techinos down” for this is the personal techinah which was for “the holy mountain” of  “my G-d”, for this was the essence of [Daniel's] techinah.

- Malbim ad loc.

The title verse of this week’s parashah reads “ויקח קרח” (Bamidbar 16:39). The simple translation would be “And Qorach took”. However, the Midrash Rabbah takes it slightly differently, using an equally valid if less obvious translation. “‘And he took Qorach’ — meaning, his heart took him.” The Ramban notes that the word “vayiqach” consistently refers to a non-physical move. This connects our chapter to the previous one of tzitzis. “And you shall not explore after your heart and after your eyes, after which you stray.” (15:39). Rashi explains that the heart and eyes are spies for the body. The eye sees, the heart desires, and the body commits the sin.

Why was he moved to rebel? In what direction did Qorach’s heart take him? Moshe appointed Elitzafan ben Uzi’el to be the leader of the clan of Kehas. The Tanchuma (ch. 1) writes that Qorach, being older than his cousin Elitzafan, thought that the job would be his.

Had they focused more on character development than on theology, their fates would have been much more for the better.

Qorach could not belittle Moshe’s authority — the Jewish People all saw the beams of light radiating from Moshe’s face when he came down from Sinai. Instead, Qorach built up the masses. “The whole community, every one of them is holy, and Hashem is among them; and why do you raise yourselves above the congregation of G-d?” (16:3) He attacked Moshe politically by trying to make him redundant religiously.

This is the meaning of the two slogans a third midrash (Midrash Rabba, quoted by Rashi) attributes to Qorach. “If a garment is all blue, does it need tzitzis?” The whole garment is techeiles, reminding us of heaven and of G-d, so why would we need an additional blue thread? The whole community was at Sinai and had experienced the heights of prophecy at the Red Sea; we do not need priests and leaders. Similarly, “If a room is full of Sifrei Torah, does it need a mezuzah?”

R. Moshe Feinstein (Derash Moshe), stresses a second aspect that builds on the first. As his very examples show, Qorach assumes that anyone can interpret the Torah for themselves. That, somehow, at Sinai they were imbued with the “spirit of the law” and can use that to guide practice.

The meaning and purpose behind halakhah is critical. It is true that we rule that mitzvos do not require intent. However, as the Mishnah writes, “From [acting] shelo lishmah, not for its sake, one comes to act lishmah.” The purpose in the mitzvah performed by rote observance is in its bringing the person closer to later performing it with intent.

Rav Hirsch likens the relationship between halakhah and lishmah to that of experimental data and scientific theory. G-d gave us the halachic process; its results are the objective data with which we work. Our theories about the meaning and purpose are just that — theories. In a scathing comment against Reform, and Geiger’s notion of a “science of Judaism”, Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch likens deriving practice from ideas about the purpose of the law to alchemy. (The 19 Letters of Ben Uziel)

Qorach’s rebellion is held up by the Mishnah as an archetype of lacking lishmah. “Any controversy which is lesheim Shamayim, for the sake of [the One in] heaven, will in the end persist; and that which is not lesheim Shamayim will not in the end persist. Which is a controversy for the sake of Heaven? The controversy between Hillel and Shammai. And which is not for the sake of Heaven? The controversy of Qorach and his entire congregation.”

Amazingly, Qorach was not inherently an evil person. The Arizal associates his name with the last three letters of the words “צַ֭דִּיק כַּתָּמָ֣ר יִפְרָ֑ח– the righteous shall blossom like the date-palm.” (Tehillim 92:13) The Ari concludes from this that Qorach will eventually have a place in the World to Come.

Where did the gap emerge between this Qorach and the one who challenged Moshe’s authority? He was hurt by being passed over for an honor. He did not rebel for the sake of heaven, although he might have convinced himself that his position was the more reasonable way to worship Hashem. A tiny seed of jealousy, and all objectivity was lost. Without deriving values from the grounding of halachah, all was lost.

A tiny gap opened between his heart and his mind, between his subconscious and his righteous ideals. And so Qorach “explored after his heart”. Such gaps are all too common. As we say in Aleinu, “וְיָֽדַעְתָּ֣ הַיּ֗וֹם וַהֲשֵֽׁבֹתָ֮ אֶל־לְבָבֶךָ֒– And you will know today, and you will respond to your heart.” (Devarim 4:39) The mind can know something even while it must still be answered to the heart.

Through the study of Mussar one can close that gap. Bridging mind and heart, mitzvah and lishmah, is critical. From the smallest of imperfections in his control of his inner self, Qorach took to leading a full rebellion. Mussar has the power to cleanse our hearts from all impurities — both conscious and subconscious. It gives depth and meaning to our observance of halakhah; it connects the act to the lishmah.

With thanks to Rabbi Zvi Miller of The Salant Foundation, who provided the core thought. Originally appeared in Mesuqim MiDevash, Qorach 5764.