God’s Frugality — BT Menachot 86b — #128

One might think that clear oil of beaten olives is unfit for meal offerings since the verse states, A tenth of fine flour, thoroughly mixed with beaten oil (Exodus 29:40). If so, what does the verse mean by, for lighting (Exodus 27:20)? Rather, [clear, beaten oil is required only for the menorah] in order to save money. Why save money? R. Elazar says, “Torah conserved the money of the Jewish people.”

 Command the Israelites to bring you clear oil of beaten olives [for lighting, for kindling lamps regularly] (Leviticus 24:2). R. Shmuel bar Nachmani says, “’To you’—and not for My benefit [because] I do not need its light.” [Concerning] the Table of Showbread in the north and the Menorah in the south [of the Sanctuary], R. Zerika says R. Elazar says, “[God said:] ‘I do not require [the Table] for eating, nor do I require [the menorah] for its light.’” [Concerning the Temple:] He made for the House windows narrow and broad (1 Kings 6:4). It was taught [in a baraita]: [God said:] “Narrow within and broad without [because] I do not require their illumination.’

INTRODUCTION

The Mishkan (wilderness Tabernacle), and the Mikdash (Jerusalem Temple) after it, were conceived as the nexus between heaven and earth, the place where God and Israel’s relationship was renewed daily and amplified through the sacrifices offered on the altar. The altar was not the only striking feature of the Mishkan (and Mikdash). Another was the Menorah. The first and longest-standing symbol of the Jewish people, the seven-branched candelabra that stood in the Mishkan is a graphic, symbolic depiction of creation itself: six days of creation held together by the central trunk, Shabbat. God tells Moses to instruct the Israelites to bring “clear oil of beaten olives for lighting, for kindling lamps regularly” (Exodus 27:20). The kohanim (priests) were assigned the daily duties of cleaning the Menorah, replacing its wicks, and refilling its cups with oil so that it would burn eternally, symbolizing the eternal nature of God’s covenant with Israel. The Table of Showbread (Exodus chapter 25) displayed twelve loaves of bread on its golden shelves, representing God’s commitment to ensuring Israel’s physical sustenance, their most basic need. Each shabbat, the kohanim replaced the loaves with twelve fresh ones.

COMMENTARY

Mishnah Menachot 8:3, and the Gemara that follows (starting on 85b), engages in a detailed description concerning the production of olive oil via a succession of pressings (beatings). Each subsequent pressing produces a lesser quality oil. Only the finest oil from the first press—“clear oil of beaten olives”—is suitable for lighting the Menorah (Exodus 27:20). Two chapters later, the Torah says that meal offerings are made with one-tenth measure of choice flour and a quarter hin of merely “beaten oil.” Why is the finest quality oil used to light the Menorah not also required for the meal offering? After all, God uses the Menorah only for illumination, but “consumes” the meal offering. While God’s “seeing” and “eating” are metaphorical, it makes sense that the oil we  consume should be as pure, or purer than, the oil used to illuminate the dark.

The Gemara explains that God does not require the most expensive oil for the meal offering. The nation, which pays for the costs of the Mishkan through tithing, thus saves money. God wants the nation to use its funds properly and frugally and toward that end, does not require the most expensive olive oil for the meal offering.

Why, then, is the finest type of oil required for the Menorah? As R. Shmuel bar Nachmani explains, Torah says “to (or: for) you” to convey that God does not require the illumination provided by the Menorah—it is symbol for Israel, so the people will remember that God is always with them. R. Zerika points out that much the same can be said of the Table of Showbread, as evidenced by its placement at the opposite end of the Mishkan. Normally, one would place a lamp next to the table to provide light for eating. However, God, Who does not require this configuration, commanded they be placed far apart so Israel would understand that these symbols exist solely for their sake.

The Gemara provides one more example. The windows in Solomon’s Temple are described as “narrow and broad,” presumably meaning that they had a narrow opening to the outside but a wider opening on the inside (familiar to us from medieval castles and walls) because the narrow opening is easier to protect, and the broader opening inside permits more light to diffuse within.  The Gemara reads “narrow and broad,” however, as “narrow within and broad without”—the opposite of standard construction—allowing God to make the statement that God doesn’t require the light.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. If God doesn’t need the Menorah for illumination or the meal offering and bread of the Table for sustenance, why build the Mishkan and carry out these rituals? What does Israel gain by following rituals portray a God Who eats and sees like human beings—if that does not correspond to reality? 
2. In explaining anthropomorphic references to God, our Sages said that Torah speaks in the language of human beings. Do you find it helpful and engaging, or distracting and confusing, to talk about God in human terms (“seeing,” “eating,” “angry,” etc.
3. In explaining why God accepted Abel’s sacrifice while rejecting Cain’s (Genesis 4:3-4), it has often been pointed out that Abel brought “the choicest of the firstlings of his flock” while Cain simply brought produce from his fields. This suggests that one should bring only one’s best to God. Yet this passage from the Talmud pointedly says God doesn’t not always want the finest quality. How would you explain this seemingly contradiction?

Why Do People Repent? — BT Yoma 86a — #127

R. Chama b. Chanina said: Great is repentance because it brings healing to the world, as it is said, I will heal their backsliding, I will love them freely (Hosea 14:5). 

 R. Chama b. Chanina pointed out a contradiction: It is written, Return, you backsliding children (Jeremiah 3:22)—that is, you who were backsliding (i.e., rebelling) in the beginning. But [then] it is written, I will heal your backsliding (Jeremiah 3:22). There is no difficulty: Here, [the reference is to where they repent] out of love; there [to where they repent] out of fear. 

Rav Yehudah pointed out this contradiction: It is written, Return, you backsliding children, I will heal your backsliding (Jeremiah 3:22), but it is also written, For I am a lord to you, and I will take you one from a city and two from a family  (Jeremiah 3:14). There is no difficulty: Here, [the reference is to where they repent] out of love or fear; there [the reference is to where they repent] through suffering.
R. Levi said: Great is repentance because it reaches the heavenly throne, as it is said, Return, Israel, to Adonai your God (Hosea 14:2).

INTRODUCTION

The building blocks of our lives are our relationships (with ourselves, with God, with other people) and all relationships are tested by life. We would hope that all apologies are sincere, heartfelt, and healing. Teshuvah (repentance), the path to reconciliation and healing, is therefore crucial. But who hasn’t heard, “I’m sorry you feel that way,” which isn’t an apology at all? And who hasn’t blurted out, “I’m sorry” without fully meaning it? The passage above opens a longer conversation in tractate Yom on repentance, a most appropriate discussion for the talmudic tractate concerning the laws and rites of Yom Kippur.

COMMENTARY

R. Chama b. Chanina opens the discussion of teshvuah by pointing to the potential of repentance, and hence how high the stakes are: repentance brings healing not only to individuals in the context of interpersonal relationships, but is the source of healing for the the world when the breach is between God and humanity. With a claim this lofty, it is unsurprising that someone should ask, “But doesn’t it matter why the offending party repented?” and “Does teshuvah have the power to repair every breach?” Two efforts to dissecting the relationship between motivation, sincerity, and outcome of repentance follow. Both follow a common rabbinic formula: Two scriptural verses are presented that seem, at first glance, to contradict one another. A resolution is offered that solves the contradiction by slicing and dicing the verses, assigning each verse to a different situation. Hence the truth of each verse is preserved, and a distinction is made between applications in a manner that invites a more nuanced view of the subject itself.

In the first “slice and dice,” R. Chama b. Chanina contrasts the first half of Jeremiah 3:22 with the second half of the same verse. Return you backsliding children suggests to R. Chama that Israel’s rebelliousness is a foolish act of childish insubordination—over as quickly as it began. However, as R. Chama understands the latter half of the verse (I will heal your backsliding) the Israelites require God’s healing because they remain, even after teshuvah, tainted by their sin. Does repentance wipe the slate clean, or is the offender forever marked by the sin? R. Chama resolves the contraction by assigning the first half of the verse to repentance undertaken out of love. It is genuine and heartfelt and thereby fully clears the sinner’s account with God. He assigns the latter half of the verse to repentance undertaken out of fear (for a delightful treatment of repentance coerced by fear: Tom Chapin’s “Mikey Won’t). This implies that repentance evoked by fear is likely to be defensive—more intended to avoid punishment than forge reconciliation.

Rav Yehudah offers a second “slice and dice.” For him, Jeremiah 3:22 in its totality implies that repentance effectively brings healing at all times, for all people. He contrasts this with another verse from Jeremiah (3:14) that suggests God picks and chooses whose repentance to accept, implying that repentance is not always effective and healing. Rav Yehudah resolves the seeming contradiction by assigning 3:22 to repentance undertaken either out of love or fear—regardless of what inspires a person to repent, sincere repentance brings healing. He assigns 3:14 to the experience of suffering, which, often understood as punishment from heaven in Rav Yehudah’s world, would naturally be expected to inspire repentance. But suffering does not always inspire repentance. The picking and choosing of 3:14 is that of suffering individuals who decide whether or not their suffering motivates repentance. 

R. Levi quotes Hosea 14:2, a verse that cuts through the analysis, argument, and slicing and dicing by asserting that all repentance, regardless of how human beings are inclined to judge one another’s sincerity, reaches the throne in heaven; that is, it is fully accepted by God. 

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. What is the difference between saying, “I’m sorry” and doing teshuvah?
2. Does it matter whether love, fear, suffering, or something else motivates a person to repent? If so, why? Is R. Chama’s distinction between teshuvah from love or fear an observation or a judgment? Is Rav Yehudah’s comment about sufferers who do not repent an observation or a judgment?
3. The discussion in tractate Yoma ends with a statement by R. Meir (below) that goes even farther than that of R. Levi, claiming that God forgives the world for the sake of the repentance of an individual. Can an individual apologize on behalf of a group? Can an individual repent on behalf of a group? Why do you think he makes this claim?

R. Meir says: Great is repentance, for on account of an individual who repents, the sins of all the world are forgiven, as it is said,  I will heal their backsliding, I will love them freely, for My anger is turned away from him (Hosea 14:5). It is not stated “from them” but rather “from him.” (86b)

Revenge vs. Restorative Justice — BT Berakhot 10a — #126

There were hooligans in R. Meir’s neighborhood who tormented him greatly. He would pray for mercy with respect to them—that they would die. R. Meir’s wife, Beruriah, said to him, “What is your reason [for praying this way]. Is it because it is written, May sinners disappear from the earth (Psalm 104:35)? But is it written ‘sinners’? ‘Sins’ is written. What is more, go to the end of the verse: and the wicked be no more (Psalm 104:35). [Therefore the verse can be understood:] May sins disappear [from the earth], and the wicked be no more. Rather, pray for [God to have] mercy on them so that they will repent. [R. Meir] prayed for mercy on them, and they repented.

INTRODUCTION

Is there anyone who has not experienced torment, insult, or degradation and not wished for their tormenters’ demise (or at least disappearance)? Not a pretty thought, to be sure, but unquestionably human enough. Vengeance is a natural emotional response to cruelty and oppression, but that does not make deeds of vengeance morally justifiable. The short interchange between Beruriah and her husband, R. Meir, concerning his feelings and consequent actions with regard to neighborhood hooligans is a blueprint for how we should (1) stop,  (2) think, and (3) respond to instances of mistreatment we endure from others. What is more, in this story, R. Meir, the preeminent Torah scholar of his generation is the student; his wife Beruriah is the Torah scholar and teacher.

COMMENTARY

The Talmud does not describe how R. Meir is tormented by the neighborhood ruffians. Perhaps they are nightmare neighbors: loud, filthy, destructive. Imagine living next-door to the worst frat house (certainly not the one you lived in in college), whose members are loud and offensive, drunk and brawling all night long. Or, perhaps R. Meir’s neighbors are verbally abusive in a manner we would liken to racism and anti-Semitism today. The description of the situation is sufficiently vague to enable us to draw a connection between R. Meir and a situation in our own lives when we, like R. Meir, find a certain person or group intolerable and cannot stop ruminating on it. When R. Meir prays, his nemeses are foremost in his mind. He therefore asks God to be “merciful” in a way that would satisfy his pain: by making them die. The irony of equating God’s mercy with causing their death is pointed: he is so angry and resentful that his conception of divine mercy conforms to his fantasy of revenge.

Imagine the impact on R. Meir—emotionally and physically—of this attitude. Consider how his stress effects him and how his desire for revenge consumes his thoughts.

R. Meir is blessed with a wife and partner who, in her own right, is a Torah scholar. Beruriah is psychologically astute, as well. She neither judges nor criticizes her husband. Rather, she offers him a scholarly argument—right in his wheelhouse—successfully engaging his attention. She gets him to stop. It is based on the interpretation of Psalm 104:35—May sinners disappear from the earth, and the wicked be no more. Because the Bible is written without vowels, the word “sinners” (chot’im) can, by changing the vocalization, be read “sins” (chata’im). Beruriah argues: Perhaps, dear husband, you are praying for our neighbors to die because you understand from Psalm 104:35 that if sinners disappear from the earth, then there will be no more wicked people. But here’s another way to understand the verse: read “sinners” as “sins”; if sins disappear, then, by definition, there will be no more wicked people. Therefore, dear husband, pray instead that  our neighbors stop sinning and repent; then they can become a force for good in the world, our problem will cease, and the verse will be fulfilled. With this forceful argument, Beruriah gets R. Meir to rethink his relationship with the neighbors.

R. Meir is persuaded. Beruriah’s reinterpretation of the verse frees R. Meir to reframe his attitude and relationship toward, his neighbors. He prays for their sins to cease. Imagine how R. Meir behaves when he encounters them after the reframing inspired by Beruriah’s reinterpretation of Psalm 104:35. Imagine his very different response. Does he nod when he passed them? Does he say good morning? Does he engage them in conversation? Does he find a way to express his concerns about their behavior? Does he stay long enough to listen to their concerns and explanations?

This story highlights the overwhelming influence of attitudes we hold to determine our behavior. Our capacity to revision a relationship and open dialogue with an adversary can convert an enemy to a friend. The astounding power of repentance to establish justice and peace speaks to the moral potency and transformational power of restorative justice—far to be preferred over revenge. Restorative Justice provides an alternative to retribution. It affords victims a voice and active role in the process. It offers offenders the opportunity to redeem themselves though repentance and atonement.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Presuming that God responded to R. Meir’s initial request that the hooligans die (the belief that there is a God who operates this way is another discussion), would that solve R. Meir’s problem? What would happen the next time someone angered or tormented him? Consider the “collateral damage” of revenge: R. Meir’s family, the family and friends of the hooligans, other neighbors. How might their lives have been effected?
2. Have you ever undergone a transformation in the way you thought about a situation? Have you ever befriend a person you had considered an enemy? How did it affect your life?
3. If something unsavory and hurtful to others in your past were discovered and revealed, in the spirit of Restorative Justice, how might you respond? If something hurtful to you from another person’s past were discovered, what would be the best way for you to respond?

We Will Do and Listen — BT Shabbat 88a,b — #125

R. Elazar said, “When the Israelites gave precedence to ‘We will do’ over ‘We will listen,’ a bat kol (heavenly voice) exclaimed to them, ‘Who revealed to My children this secret the Ministering Angels use? As it is written, Bless Adonai, you angels of [God], mighty creatures who do [God’s] bidding, hearkening to the voice of [God’s] word (Psalm 103:20)—first they fulfill, and then they hearken.” R. Chama b. R. Chanina said, “What is the meaning of, As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, [so is my beloved among the sons] (Song of Songs 2:3)? Why were the Israelites compared to an apple tree? To teach you that just as the fruit of the apple tree precedes its leaves, so did the Israelites give precedence to ‘We will do’ over ‘We will hearken.’” 

A heretic saw Rava engrossed in his studies while his fingers were under his leg and he was squeezing them so that his fingers spurted blood. [The heretic] said [to Rava], “You impulsive people who accorded precedence to your mouth over your ears—you still persist in your impulsiveness. You should listen first [to the conditions of the Torah] and, if you are capable, accept; if not, do not accept.” [Rava] said to [the heretic], “Concerning us, (88b) who are wholehearted, it is written, The integrity of the upright will guide them (Proverb 11:3). But concerning others, who walk in deceit, it is written, And the deviousness of the treacherous leads them to ruin.

INTRODUCTION

In the course of conveying God’s laws to Israel, Torah several times recounts the Israelites’ affirmation, “All that Adonai has said, we will do” (e.g., Exodus 19:8 and 24:3), but Exodus 24:7 employs the singular phrase na’aseh v’nishma (“We will do and we will hearken”), which  suggests  to the Rabbis that the Israelites were prepared to do as God commanded before hearing or considering the laws they were committing themselves to obey. In context, this is a difficult interpretation because na’aseh v’nishma follows on the heels of, “Moses took the record of the covenant and read it aloud to the people.” A more accurate translation is, “We will do and obey.”

COMMENTARY

R. Elazar tells us that at the very moment the Israelites uttered the words na’aseh v’nishma, a heavenly voice (i.e., God) cried out, “Who told the Israelites the angels’ secret?!” The claim that the angels obey God’s commands before they even hear them is supported by a verse from Psalm 103, which uses the same two linguistic roots as na’aseh v’nishma, in the same order—hence “doing” before “hearing.” For the psalmist, these are two parallel phrases that convey the same meaning; for R. Elazar, their order places precedence on “doing” over “hearing,” proving that this is an angelic, heavenly, divine mode of receiving God’s commands.

R. Chama produces a second verse in support of R. Elazar’s contention. In Song of Songs 2:3, a woman describes her lover as a sole apple tree in a forest—distinct, superior, bearing fruit. The Rabbis understand Song of Songs to be an allegory for the love relationship between God and Israel. Accordingly, and in defiance of botanical science, R. Chama explains that just as the apple tree bears fruit (equivalent to “doing”) before it produces leaves (equated with “hearing”), so too the Israelites committed to God’s Torah before they had heard a word of it.

The acclaim of Israel’s sight-unseen, word-unheard acceptance of God’s Torah is next bolstered with a story about Rava’s encounter with a heretic. Rava, we are to understand, was so utterly engrossed by his Torah studies—so thoroughly engaged in a way that reflects a post-Sinai version of na’aseh v’nishma—that he caused what should have been painful bleeding to himself, yet was neither aware of the blood or the pain. The heretic observes that the impulsive quality of the Jews, which caused them to accept God’s Torah without first knowing what they were committing themselves to, is evident in Rava’s irrational behavior. Rather, the heretic opines, one should first listen and considered whether one has the capacity to fulfill a commitment, and decide accordingly whether or not to accept it. Rava responds that those who are truly upright are guided by their integrity, which entails saying yes to God immediately, and only afterward asking what God’s requirements comprise. Those who are not upright and lack such integrity are devious and their modus operandi is treachery rather than devotion; this leads them to ruin.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. The Rabbis make their best case for Israel’s fervent and unqualified commitment to God’s commandments before having an inkling of Torah’s content—despite Torah’s multiple affirmations that things didn’t happen this way, and the likelihood that na’aseh v’nishma is best understood “we will do and obey.” What does it mean to accept God’s Torah whole cloth in a religious tradition that encourages adherents to scrutinize, interpret, and reinterpret every word? What is the meaning of na’aseh v’nishma today? How do you interpret it?
2. Na’aseh v’nishma has long been emblematic of Israel’s unique commitment to God. Midrash Sifri Deuteronomy 343 (and at least four other midrashic compilations) recounts that God shopped the Torah around to other nations, each of which asked what it contained. As soon as God revealed a sample commandment, each nation rejected the Torah because they did not like that particular rule. Only Israel accepted the Torah sight unseen. The midrash intends to assert a qualitative difference between Israel and other nations. What do you think?
3. Curiously, after the people utter na’aseh v’nishma, the next verse (Exodus 24:8) recounts that Moses dashes the blood of sacrificial offerings on the people. There is, as yet, no sacrificial system because the Mishkan (Tabernacle) has not been built, so it would appear that the nation itself is the altar or parochet (curtain) at this stage. That in itself is a fascinating idea to reflect upon. Additionally, do you think there is a connection between Exodus 24:8 and Rava’s blood, which flowed because of his exceptional devotion?