Giving Thanks — BT Berakhot 54b — #61

Rav Yehudah said in the name of Rav: Four [classes of people] give thanks: seafarers, those who traverse the wilderness, one who was ill and recovered, and one who was imprisoned and set free… What blessing does he say? Rav Yehudah said, “Blessed [are You] who bestows loving kindness.” Abaye said, “One expresses thanksgiving in the presence of ten, as it is written, Let them exalt [God] in the congregation of the people (Psalm 107:32).”  Mar Zutra said, “Two of them must be rabbis, as it says, Praise [God] in the assembly of the elders (Psalm 107:32).” R. Ashi challenged this, “You might as well say that all must be rabbis!” Is it written (in Psalm 107:32), “in the assembly of elders?” [No!] It is written, In the congregation of the people. Say, then, in the presence of ten plus two rabbis? This is a difficulty. Rav Yehudah was ill and recovered. R. Chana of Bagdad and other rabbis went to visit him. They said to him, “Blessed is the All Merciful who gave you back to us and did not give you to the dust.” He said to them, “You have released me from the obligation of giving thanks.” But did not Abaye say that one must express thanksgiving in the presence of ten? There were ten present. But [Rav Yehudah, himself] did not express thanks! There was no need, since he answered them, “Amen.”

INTRODUCTION

The Gemara prior to our passage has been discussing blessings said in places where a miracle occurred, or where idolatry was uprooted.  The Gemara includes a famous list of blessings: for thunder and lightning, for seeing the ocean, for receiving good news and even bad news, upon entering a large city, for visiting the site of the Temple, for surviving a lion or camel attack, and for visiting the place where the Israelites crossed the Reed Sea.

This passage is the source for reciting Birkat ha-Gomel, the blessing of thanksgiving that is said in synagogue after one has survived a dangerous situation or an ordeal, such as surgery or crossing an ocean. Customarily, the one who recites birkat ha-gomel is honored with an aliyah to the Torah and, following the second blessing, says, “Praised are You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of the universe, Who bestows goodness beyond our merit, for bestowing favor upon me.” The congregation responds, “May God who has been gracious to you continue to favor you with all that is good.”

COMMENTARY

Rav Yehudah, whose very name is derived from hoda’ah (“thanks”) when Leah names her son Yehudah (Genesis 29:35), says that there are inherently dangerous experiences in life that call for an expression of thanksgiving when one survives them: travel across the sea or desert, recovery from a dangerous illness, and release from incarceration. Each is tantamount to facing death; survival is a new lease on life. (The passage continues with a lengthy recitation of verses to establish each of the four categories that I have not included above.) Rav Yehudah provides the formulation that serves as the foundation for Birkat ha-Gomel. 

Next is a discussion of the context for reciting the blessing of thanksgiving. Abaye says it should be recited in the presence of a minyan, based on the first half of Psalm 107:32: Let them exalt [God] in the congregation of the people, praise [God] in the assembly of the elders. Mar Zutra, focusing on the latter half of the same verse, concludes that two rabbis must be present because“elders” is plural and is taken to refer to rabbis based on BT Kiddushin 32b where zakein (“elder”) is understood to mean “rabbi” by interpreting it as a contraction of zeh kana chokhmah (“this one acquired wisdom”). Rav Ashi, in response to Mar Zutra, remarks that one might as well claim that all ten must be rabbis—a high standard for reciting a blessing of thanksgiving. Then Gemara points out that Psalm 107:32 says “congregation of the people,” not “congregation of elders,” and hence requiring ten rabbis is absurd. Yet the verse says both “congregation of the people” and “assembly of the elders,” prompting the Gemara to  ask if perhaps both a minyan and an additional two rabbis need to be present to hear the blessing of thanksgiving. The Gemara concedes that while logical, this interpretation results in a problematic solution.

We then read a short story about Rav Yehudah who had occasion to recite Birkat ha-Gomel (or something similar) following an illness—but never did. A group of colleagues (later affirmed to be a minyan of rabbis, thereby fulfilling both Abaye’s and Mar Zutra’s opinions) visited him and recited their own blessing of thanksgiving . Rav Yehudah responded, “Amen,” understanding this as releasing him of the obligation to explicitly express thanks himself. This is a beautiful model of the reciprocal nurturing relationship of the individual and community through prayer.

A Thanksgiving Pray

by Rabbi Naomi Levy

For the laughter of the children,For my own life breath,For the abundance of food on this tableFor the ones who prepared this sumptuous feast,For the roof over our heads,The clothes on our backs,For our health,And our wealth of blessings,For this opportunity to celebrate with family and friends,For the freedom to pray these wordsWithout fear,In any language,In any faith,In this great country,Whose landscape is as vast and beautiful as her inhabitants.Thank You, God, for giving us all these.  Amen.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Why might it matter if there are two, ten, or no rabbis present when a person recites Birkat ha-Gomel? Can you argue both for and against the need for rabbis to be present?
2. Which is more powerful and meaningful for you: saying a blessing yourself, or having those around you spontaneously say a blessing on your behalf? Why?
3. Birkat ha-Gomel credits God with having saved the individual reciting the blessing from danger or ordeal. If your understanding of the universe is that causality depends upon the laws of nature (including the inherent role of probability, which we might translate as luck), what meaning can you attach to Birkat ha-Gomel?

Burned By Boiling Anger—BT Pesachim 66b—#60

Resh Lakish said, “When a person becomes angry: if wise, wisdom will desert them; if a prophet, prophecy will desert them.” 

 We learn that if they are wise, wisdom will desert them from Moses, for it is written, And Moses became angry at the commanders of the army… (Numbers 31:14), and it is written, Elazar the priest said to soldiers who came to the war, “This is the law of the Torah that Adonai commanded to Moses…” (Numbers 31:21). This implies that the halakhic ruling was hidden from Moses. 

[We learn that] if they are a prophet, their prophecy deserts them, from Elisha, for it is written, And Elisha said to the king of Israel, “What have you to do with me?!” (2 Kings 3:13), and it is written, “And now get me a musician.” As the musician played, the hand of Adonai came upon him, etc. (2 Kings 3:14).

INTRODUCTION

Anger is among the most common (and sadly for some people, frequent) emotions we experience. There are those who counsel letting one’s anger out because bottling it up is unhealthy. But some people not only don’t hold it in, they spew their anger on everyone. A study in the Journal of Medicine and Life warns that anger can cause the production of stress  hormones (specifically, corticosteroids and catecholamine) leading to “an avalanche of events, including  hemodynamic and metabolic modifications, vascular problems, and disorders of the cardiac rhythm”—directly impacting upon cardiovascular diseases. Certainly expressions of anger can wound and lead to discord and severely damage relationships, and even to extreme, physically violent behavior.  In addition, we would do well to consider the influence our behavior has on children who witness our angry outbursts. What are they learning about appropriate responses to insult, frustration, impatience—or whatever provoked our anger—from watching our response?

The Sages may not have the scientific vocabulary to discuss these consequences of uncontrolled anger, but they understand it intuitively and through life experience. Perhaps that is why this teaching about anger is attributed to Resh Lakish. Talmud holds that his first career was as a robber or gladiator. After a chance meeting with R. Yochanan while crossing the Jordan River, he became a student of Torah, a disciple of R. Yochanan. He married his master’s sister, and became R. Yochanan’s study partner. Theirs was an exceptionally close relationship until one day, while discussing the halakhah concerning the purity of weapons, R. Yochanan referred a question to Resh Lakish with a snide and hurtful comment about Resh Lakish’s first career. Shocked and wounded, Resh Lakish responded in anger, calling into question the value of the Torah R. Yochanan had taught him—essentially the substance and purpose of R. Yochanan’s life. The result was that the two refused to speak to one another or forgive one another. R. Yochanan died of a broken heart, and Resh Lakish died shortly thereafter from the pain of it all. In this one tragic story, the dire consequences of uncontrolled anger are all played out.

COMMENTARY

We are warned: One who is slow to anger has great understanding, but impatience leads to foolishness (Proverbs 14:29). Buddha taught: “You will not be punished for your anger; you will be punished by your anger.” The Rabbis concur, and illustrate the point by asserting that anger clouds one’s judgment and vision, eclipsing both wisdom and prophecy.  

“Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.” 

Mark Twain

Moses serves as the example of lost wisdom. The Talmud cites an incident recounted in the Book of Numbers in which Moses becomes enraged with the Israelites’ army commanders for collecting booty in the war with Midian. Subsequently, the priest Eleazar explicates ritual law. The Rabbis’ understanding is that because Moses becomes enraged, he forgets the halakhic rules and Elazar must teach them. 

Elisha supplies the illustration for the Sages’ point about prophecy. Elisha, the disciple of Elijah, loses his divine inspiration due to overwhelming and distracting anger he harbors for King Yehoram of Israel. “The hand of Adonai came upon him” is understood to imply that divine inspiration had deserted him until this point.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. When is it appropriate and constructive to express anger, and when is it not? How is it appropriate and constructive to express anger, and how is it not? Has your expression of anger ever damaged a relationship? Are there times when even if your anger is justified, it is best to keep it to yourself?
2. A famous talmudic teaching attributed to R. Ilai tells us that a person’s character can be discerned by three things: koso (“his cup”), kiso (“his purse”), and kaso (“his anger”) (BT Eruvin 65b)—how people handle alcohol, their money, and their anger. How do these provide valuable insights and criterion for judging character?
3. Groucho Marx once quipped, “If you speak when angry, you’ll make the best speech you’ll ever regret.” Have you said something in anger that you later regretted? The Rabbis notes that, “Of those who are insulted but do not insult, who hear themselves reviled but do not answer, and who act through love and rejoice in [their own] suffering, Scripture says, Those who love [God] are like the sun rising in might (Judges 5:31).” (BT Shabbat 88b) Have you ever been insulted or reviled but not responded? Was this a good decision in the short term? In the long run?

Seeing in the Dark — BT Megillah 24b — #59

It was taught in a baraita: The [Sages] said to R. Yehudah, “Many people have tried to expound on the Merkavah though they have never seen it.” R. Yehudah [says]: “[There expounding on the Merkavah] depends upon the understanding of the mind, and one can concentrate one’s mind and know, but here [concerning blessing the luminaries, which we say] because of the benefit [derived from them], and he had no benefit.

The Rabbis say that [a blind person] derives benefit, as R. Yose taught in a baraita: R. Yose said, “All my days I was troubled by this verse: You shall grope at noonday as a blind person gropes in darkness (Deuteronomy 28:29)—what difference is there to a blind person between darkness and light?—until I observed this incident: Once I was walking in the dark at night and I saw a blind person walking on the road with a torch in his hand. I said to him, ‘My son,  why do you need this torch?’ He said to me, ‘So long as I have a torch in my hand, people see me and save me from ditches, thorns, and briers.’”

INTRODUCTION

The larger context of this passage concerns who may lead public prayers and read the Torah and Haftarah portions in synagogue. The narrower question to which this passage responds is this: May one who, being blind from birth, has never seen the luminaries, recite on behalf of others the blessing Birchat ha-Me’orot in the morning prayers that praises God for creating them? The mishnah tells us that a blind person may certainly do so, but also preserves the opinion of R. Yehudah that anyone who has never seen the luminaries may not. Our passage explores two approaches to explain the disagreement between R. Yehudah and the Sages. Both attempts draw on baraitot (mishnaic-era teachings of the tanna’im).

COMMENTARY

The first explanation of the difference of opinion between R. Yehudah and the Sages concerns human attempts to understand God’s chariot (the Merkavah), an early school of Jewish mysticism that focused on the visions of God’s chariot found in the Book of Ezekiel (chapter 1). Ezekiel, according to tradition, is the only human who has seen the Merkavah, yet many have tried to describe it. How? They attempted to fathom it through the powers of the mind, the Sages contend. R. Yehudah, however, rejects this analogy, claiming that it is solely through the powers of the mind that one can comprehend the Merkavah because no one can actually see it. In the case of the luminaries, however, most people see them and thereby benefit from them directly.

Wouldn’t it suffice for Torah to say that Israel will be as sightless at high noon as in complete darkness? Why does Torah add “a blind person gropes in darkness”? Doesn’t everyone grope in the darkness?

The second explanation comes from another baraita attributed to R. Yose who tells us that for a long time, he could not understand Deuteronomy 28:29, which poetically describes the  curses that will afflict Israel if they violate God’s covenant: You shall grope at noonday as a blind person gropes in darkness. With only a glance, the gist of the verse is clear: Israel will be as compromised as the blind (a distinctive and dangerous disadvantage in the ancient world). But a closer look—which R. Yose’s keen eye supplies—reveals something peculiar in the verse: Why does the verse mention a blind person? Wouldn’t it suffice to say that Israel will be as sightless at high noon as in complete darkness? R. Yose tells us that he pondered this peculiarity until he encountered a blind person walking along a road at night carrying a torch. Why would the blind person need a torch? How could it possibly benefit him? The light his torch projected enabled sighted people to see obstacles in his path and warn him to avoid them. Hence the blind person benefited from the light he could not see. So, too, the Sages are suggesting, blind people benefit from the luminaries although they cannot see them.

“The One Who in compassion grants light to the earth and those who dwell on it, and in goodness renews the work of Creation each day…Be blessed, Adonai our God, for the glory of the work of Your hands and for the light-giving luminaries that You made so that they would glorify You. Selah.” (morning prayers)

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. One way to view the disagreement between the Rabbis and R. Yehudah is that it hinges on whether blessings and prayers should be firmly anchored in concrete, physical experiences in our lives, or rather open to more abstract interpretations and applications. R. Yehudah’s rejection of the Sages’ reasoning as offered in the first baraita suggests that  a person without direct physical experience of a blessing cannot recite it for one who directly  experiences the benefit. Do you agree with R. Yehudah’s reasoning? Why or why not?
2. Mishnah sees fit to preserve R. Yehudah’s opinion, even though he is overruled by the Rabbis. It is not uncommon for Mishnah to preserve a minority opinion, but we might nonetheless ask: Why? What is the value in R. Yehudah’s viewpoint? R. Yehudah, it seems, wants to retain a more concrete connection  between the recitation of blessings and the human experience of those blessings. What are the strengths and weaknesses of this approach?
3.   The case of the blind man who carried the torch raises another question: Can one be said to benefit when the benefit accrues to someone else? Can the pleasure derived from altruistic behavior be considered a benefit?

Chain of Attributes — BT Avodah Zarah 20b — #58

R. Pinchas b. Yair said: Study of Torah leads to caution; caution leads to diligence; diligence leads to cleanliness; cleanliness leads to restraint; restraint leads to purity; purity leads to piety; piety leads to humility; humility leads to fear of sin; fear of sin leads to holiness; holiness leads to divine inspiration; divine inspiration leads to resurrection of the dead. And piety is the greatest of them all, as it says, Then You spoke in a vision to your pious ones (Psalm 89:20). This differs from R. Yehoshua b. Levi, who said, “The spirit of God is upon me, for God has anointed me to bring tidings to the humble ones (Isaiah 61:1). It does not say ‘pious ones’ but rather ‘humble ones.’ Thus you learned that humility is the greatest of all of them.”

INTRODUCTION

This baraita (a teaching from the first or second century), attributed to R. Pinchas b. Yair, is reminiscent of the favorite Passover song, Chad Gadya, which outlines a cascade of disastrous events that comes to a halt when God abolishes death. (Please note: you are obligated to read the next sentence in one breath.) The came the Holy One, Blessed is God, and slew the Angel of Death who killed the slaughterer who slaughtered the ox that drank the water that quenched the fire that burned the stick that beat the dog that bit the cat that ate the kid my father bought for two zuzim. The events in Chad Gadya, however, are not linked causally.

A closer analogy comes to us from Rabbi Yoda, who taught: “Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.” (View his shiur here.) The thinking  behind Yoda’s teaching is that one emotion leads to another in a logical chain of causality. The Talmud offers us a causal chain in which the nodes are middot (religious character attributes and the behaviors they imply). R. Pinchas b. Yair explains that cultivating in ourselves specific qualities or characteristics leads to the development of others in a chain that leads, ultimately, to resurrection when the messiah comes.

The context for R. Pinchas b. Yair’s teaching is a mishnah concerning what objects one may craft and sell to idolaters knowing that they might use them in idolatrous worship. This segues to a discussion of the threat that beautiful idolatrous women present to righteous men. For the Rabbis, this marked the intersection of the two most dangerous pulls away from Torah: idolatry and women. The Sages explain, You shall keep away from every evil thing (Deuteronomy 23:10) to mean that one should avoid any daytime thoughts that might give rise to tum’ah (impurity) during the nighttime. In other words, sexual thoughts. R. Pinchas b. Yair explains how it works.

COMMENTARY

R. Pinchas offers a causal chain—like a ladder with 11 rungs—beginning with caution and ending with resurrection of the dead. He tells us that mastering one attribute paves the way for one to acquire the next, and so on. The final two rungs, divine inspiration and resurrection, are surprising. Can one develop the gift of prophecy in oneself, or is this a gift from God? Why is resurrection the highest rung, given that it is not even an attribute to master and what is more, everyone will be resurrected in order to face final judgment at the end of time? Perhaps R. Pinchas means that at the time of resurrection, the one who has mastered the aforementioned qualities will merit a far greater reward in olam ha-ba (world-to-come). Some commentators interpret the Gemara to mean that one who climbs higher than even divine inspiration—a gift reserved for prophets—will gain the power to resurrect the dead, an accomplishment achieved only by Elijah and Elisha. A more metaphorical interpretation is that one who reaches such an  exalted spiritual level will inspire others to turn away from evil and onto the path of righteousness, thereby “resurrecting” them from spiritual death.

The attributes in R. Pinchas b. Yair’s teaching have become the focus of Musar (the teaching and practice of Jewish Ethics) and interpreted both concretely and metaphorically. For example, R. Mendel of Satanov, in Cheshbon ha-Nefesh (“Accounting of the Soul”), includes four of the first nine (cleanliness, humility, diligence, and restraint) among his list of thirteen essential soul-traits. The first nine attributes are the organizing principle of R. Moses Chaim Luzzatto’s classical work of Musar, Mesillat Yesharim (“The Path of the Righteous”).

The baraita concludes with a disagreement, first suggesting that despite the ordering, piety is the highest attribute. R. Yehoshua b. Levi, however, holds that humility trumps even piety in the divine hierarchy of religious attributes.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Reflect on the causal order of R. Pinchas b. Yair’s teaching. Do you agree with it? How would you order the elements in R. Pinchas’ list and how do you see the relationships between the elements? For example, I’d be inclined to view the elements in Yoda’s formulation differently: suffering leads to fear (pain and powerlessness beget fear); fear leads to anger (powerlessness and fear beget resentment); anger leads to hate (born of a desire to cast blame for one’s suffering). Hence suffering can provide entry to evil in the absence of an empathetic response and compassionate care. What is your view?
2. How important is R. Yair’s order? Is it possible that the Rabbis present R. Pinchas b. Yair’s teaching not as absolute truth, but rather to inspire thought and conversation, in the hope that we can identify in ourselves the attributes that need further development and might give rise in us to other attributes? Or is the order important, and why?
3. Do you agree with the baraita that piety is the highest attribute, or with R. Yehoshua b. Levi that humility is the greatest quality? Which middah you believe to be the most important, and why?

Sharing a Lulav With a Friend — BT Sukkah 41 b (#2) — #57

GEMARA: Whence do we know [what Mishnah Sukkah 3:12 taught]? The Rabbis taught: You shall take (Leviticus 23:40)—each and every person should take up [the lulav] by hand. For yourselves—that which belongs to you, which excludes a borrowed or stolen [lulav]. From this the Sages explained that a person cannot fulfill [the mitzvah of the lulav] on the first day of the festival with their friend’s lulav unless [the friend] gave [the lulav] to them as a gift.

 It once happened that [on the first day of Sukkot] Rabban Gamliel and R. Yehoshua and R. Elazar b. Azariah and R. Akiba were traveling by ship and only Rabban Gamliel had a lulav, which he had bought for a thousand zuz. Rabban Gamliel took it and fulfilled the obligation [of waving the lulav] with it. Then he gave it to R. Yehoshua as a gift. R. Yehoshua took it and fulfilled the obligation with it, then gave it to R. Elazar b. Azariah as a gift. R. Elazar b. Azariah took it and fulfilled the obligation with it, then gave it to R. Akiba as a gift. R. Akiba took it and fulfilled the obligation with it, then returned it to Rabban Gamliel.

Why do we need to mention that R. Akiba returned it? In this way, he teaches us that a gift made on condition that it be returned is nonetheless a valid gift, which is like what Rava said: “[If a person said,] ‘Here is an etrog [as a gift] on condition that you return it to me,’ and he took it and fulfilled his obligation with it and then returned it, he is regarded as having fulfilled his obligation. If he did not return it, he is regarded as not having fulfilled his obligation.”

INTRODUCTION

In the previous edition of TMT, we examined Mishnah Sukkah 3:12, which tells us that, “One cannot fulfill their obligation on the first day [of Sukkot] with another person’s lulav, but on the remaining days of the festival, a person can fulfill their obligation with another person’s lulav.” The Gemara asks: What is the Rabbis’ source for this ruling?

COMMENTARY

We might think that Torah could not be the source for this ruling, since Torah does not appear to address the question of ownership of the lulav. Torah tell us: On the first day [of Sukkot] you shall take for yourselves (u’l’kachtem lachem) the product of hadar trees, branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before Adonai your God seven days (Leviticus 23:40). Despite the fact that there appears to be nothing overt in this verse to warrant the Rabbis’ ruling, they nonetheless derive their teaching from this it: From the word u’l’kachtem (“you [plural] shall take”), the Rabbis learn that each individual is obligated to hold a lulav in their hands and wave it. This means that another person cannot fulfill the obligation for you or exempt you from it; you must wave the lulav yourself. From the plural word lachem (“for yourselves”), the Rabbis learn that one must own the lulav one waves to fulfill the obligation, because the term “lachem” connotes ownership. Hence, waving a borrowed or stolen lulav on Sukkot is unacceptable for fulfilling the mitzvah.

The Gemara next tells a story about four famous rabbis whose circumstance suggests that only by lending and borrowing a single lulav can they each fulfill the mitzvah. They happen to be traveling together by ship when the first day of Sukkot arrives. Presumably, their circumstance explains why only one of the four has a lulav in his possession. Additionally, the cost of the lulav—1,000 zuz is a hefty sum!—may explain why only Rabban Gamliel, who is independently wealthy, is in possession of a lulav, and perhaps why the other three are not. Thus we have a situation of four rabbis, only one of whom possesses a lulav; the other three cannot acquire one once the ship sets sail (ships in those days did not have gift shops). What are they to do? The story describes how Rabban Gamliel gifts R. Yehoshua b. Chananiah with his lulav so that the latter can fulfill the mitzvah. R. Yehoshua, in turn, gifts R. Elazar with the lulav and, having fulfilled his obligation, R. Elazar gifts R. Akiba with the lulav. When R. Akiba has fulfilled his obligation, he returns the lulav to Rabban Gamliel.

The story’s ending inspires a question: Why does R. Akiba return the lulav to Rabban Gamliel? Was a condition attached to the gift that the lulav be returned after it was used? And if that is the case, was the lulav truly a gift, and did R. Yehoshua, R. Elazar, and R. Akiba truly own  the lulav while it was in their possession? We are accustomed to thinking that when a person gives a gift, the ownership is permanently and unequivocally transferred from the giver to the recipient. If I give you something, you are completely free to do with it as you choose, and you have no obligation to return it to me. It appears that the gifting of the lulav in the story was conditional: only for the purpose of fulfilling the mitzvah, after which it would be passed along to another for the same purpose and eventually returned to the original owner. Did Rabbis Yehoshua, Elazar, and Akiba truly own the lulav when they fulfilled the mitzvah with it? The Gemara explains that yes, the gift was legitimate. Rabban Gamliel did not give possession of the lulav to his colleagues for all time, but in order to fulfill the mitzvah with the stipulation that the lulav be returned to him.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Do you think that Gemara brings the story of the four rabbis to prove the contention that the mitzvah cannot be fulfilled on the first day with a borrowed lulav, or rather in order to illustrate a work-around to enable someone doesn’t own a lulav to fulfill the mitzvah?
2. Do you think the Rabbis are stretching the meaning of “gift” and “ownership” excessively? Does it make a difference that the object under discussion is needed only for a short time?
3. Could the Rabbis be offering a simple and workable solution for a common communal problem when not everyone has a lulav (or can afford one)? Could they be creating a category of temporary ownership that encourages (which we might be inclined to call “lending”) in order to insure that everyone can fulfill the mitzvah of lulav?

Bring the Lulav: When? Whose? — BT Sukkah 41b (#1) — #56

MISHNAH: If the first day of the festival [of Sukkot] falls on shabbat, everyone brings their lulavim [and etrogim] to the synagogue [prior to shabbat]. The following day, they come early. Everyone recognizes their own [lulav and etrog] and takes it. [Why must everyone have their own lulav?] Because the Sages said: One cannot fulfill their obligation on the first day [of Sukkot] with another person’s lulav, but on the remaining days of the festival, a person can fulfill their obligation with another person’s lulav. R. Yose says: If the first day of the festival falls on shabbat and one forgets and carries their lulav out into the public domain, they are not liable because because they carried it out with permission.

INTRODUCTION

The most obvious obligation of Sukkot is the sukkah, itself, a modest and temporary hut with a roof of vegetation, in which one lives for a week—eating, studying, reading, playing games, entertaining guests, and even sleeping (if you live in a conducive clime). Torah stipulates that, On the first day [of Sukkot] you shall take for yourselves (lachem) the product of hadar trees, branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before Adonai your God seven days (Leviticus 23:40). The fruit of the hadar is the citron, also known as the etrog. The other three species—palms, myrtle, and willow—are bound together and form the lulav, the preeminent symbol of the festival. Graphic images of lulavim have been found on the walls of ancient synagogues throughout the Middle East and even on the walls of burial caves and carved into sarcophagi.

(All three are seen in the photo to the right is an inscription plaque from a third century C.E. synagogue in Asia Minor on the southern coast of Turkey. There is a lulav to the left of the menorah and a shofar to the right. This artifact is today in the Antalya Museum in Turkey.)

COMMENTARY

On the basis of Leviticus 23:40 (quoted above), the Rabbis ask and answer several questions in the mishnah. First, Leviticus 23:40 instructs us to take up the lulav to celebrate Sukkot on the first day of the festival. For those who lived while the Temples stood, this entailed carrying the lulav and etrog to the Temple on the first day of Sukkot. For the Rabbis, this means carrying the lulav and etrog to the synagogue. They therefore ask: What if the first day of Sukkot is shabbat, when one is not permitted to carry items from the private domain (one’s house and courtyard) into the public domain (streets, the Temple) because doing so constitutes m’lachah (work) as the Rabbis have defined it? The mishnah reports a work-around: People would bring their lulav and etrog to the synagogue prior to shabbat and leave it there. They collected it the following day on shabbat. Today, lulav and etrog are not waved on shabbat, just as shofar is not blown on Rosh Hashanah when it coincides with shabbat, both due to the prohibition against carrying on shabbat. 

 Leviticus 23:40 includes the seemingly superfluous word lachem (“for yourselves”), from which the Rabbis learn that in order to fulfill the mitzvah of lulav, one must own the lulav over which one makes the blessing and which one waves. The ownership requirement applies only on the first day of the festival, however, because the biblical verse in question requires that we bring lulav and etrog only on the first day. The Rabbis extended the ritual of waving lulav to all seven days of Sukkot and applied to the latter six days the leniency that since Torah does not specifically require lulav on the subsequent days, one need not own the lulav one waves on those days. Therefore, it’s fine to borrow your friend’s lulav to fulfill the (rabbinic) mitzvah of lulav on the last six days of Sukkot.

Finally, R. Yose addresses an inevitable (and likely not infrequent) occurrence: Someone brings their lulav to synagogue on the first day of the festival, forgetting that it is also shabbat. Normally, they would need to bring a sin-offering as atonement, but R. Yose exempts  them because the act was done “with permission” of the mitzvah of the lulav, meaning that R. Yose presumes that the mistake was made not out of willful disregard for halakhah, but rather because the person was focused on fulfilling the mitzvah of lulav and, as a result, forgot it was shabbat.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Is the lulav waved in your synagogue when the first day of Sukkot falls on shabbat? Is shofar blown in your synagogue when Rosh Hashanah coincides with shabbat? The Mishnah suggests a solution to the conflict presented when a festival (or Rosh Hashanah) falls on shabbat. If the items needed—lulav and etrog on Sukkot; shofar on Rosh Hashanah—are left in the synagogue prior to the advent of the holy day, then they can be used on shabbat without violating the prohibition of carrying an object from the private domain to the public domain. Is the Mishnah’s “work around” practiced in your community?
2. Do you agree with R. Yose that the violation against carrying the lulav from the private domain to the public domain on shabbat is cancelled by the individual’s intent to fulfill the mitzvah of lulav? Why or why not? Can you argue in support of both views?
3. Some people argue that foregoing shofar on Rosh Hashanah when it falls on shabbat serves to constructively affirm the priority and holiness of shabbat even above Rosh Hashanah. (A similar argument is made concerning Avinu Malkeinu, which is not said on shabbat by Ashkenazim for the reason that we avoid supplications on shabbat.) Others argue that not waving the lulav is an unnecessary sacrifice of an important and meaningful ritual practiced only once a year and therefore should be preserved. What is your view?

Divine Prayer Leader — BT Rosh Hashanah 17b (part 2) — #55

And Adonai passed before [Moses] and proclaimed (Exodus 34:6). R. Yochanan said, “Had not Torah written this, it would be impossible to say this. This teaches that the Holy One of Blessing wrapped himself [in a tallit, prayer shawl] like a prayer leader and demonstrated to Moses the order of prayer. [God] said to him, ‘Any time that Israel sins, let them perform this order of prayer before Me and I will forgive them.’”

 Adonai! Adonai! (Exodus 34:6) I am [God] before a person sins, and I am [God] after a person sins and repents.

INTRODUCTION

In TMT #54 we examined the Gemara immediately preceding the passage above. There, three rabbis cited three biblical verses that they interpret to prove God’s desire to act out of loving kindness rather than stern justice. God prefers mercy and forgiveness to judgement and punishment. The third verse cited is Exodus 34:6-7 which expresses what has come to be known as the Thirteen Attributes of God: Adonai passed before [Moses] and proclaimed: Adonai! Adonai! A God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin; yet [God] does not  remit all punishment, but visits the iniquity of parents upon children and children’s children, upon the third and fourth generations.

The first set of attributes (prior to the semi-colon) are those we associate with a loving, merciful, and forgiving God; the second set are those of a stern judge who meets out punishment. In TMT #54, the Rabbis seek to reconcile these seemingly opposing aspects of the Divine personality and temperament by saying that God initially sits on the Throne of Justice, but then moves to the Throne of Mercy because God desires to forgive us. In this week’s passage above (which follows last week’s passage in the Gemara) the Rabbis interpret the opening words of Exodus 34:6.

COMMENTARY

According to the Torah, “Adonai passed before [Moses]…” prior to reciting the Thirteen Attributes. The expression “passed before” is also how the Rabbis describe a shaliach tzibbur (public prayer leader), who is said to “pass before” the ark. This provides a linguistic opening for the Rabbis to envision God as acting the part of a shaliach tzibbur in order to teach Moses how to lead the community in prayer whenever they have sinned and are in need of forgiveness. Given the verses’ context in the Torah—Moses has ascended Mount Sinai to receive the Torah a second time, following the incident of the Golden Calf—this is a touching interpretation. God nearly wiped out the Israelites after they worshiped the Golden Calf; the Rabbis’ contention that God now teaches Moses how to invoke divine forgiveness bespeaks just how desperately God wants to forgive those who sin, even when the sin is idolatry. 

As the Rabbis imagine the scene, so keenly does God wish to be able to pardon the Israelites, that God dons a tallit and demonstrates to Moses how to pray and what to say to illicit God’s compassionate forgiveness. This highly anthropomorphic image of God—in human form wrapped in a tallit—appears to have caused some discomfort, which is reflected in R. Yochanan’s defensive contention that Torah itself makes the claim that God personally tutored Moses. Otherwise, R. Yochanan contends, no one would dare to say such a thing about God!

The Rabbis next interpret, Adonai! Adonai! (Exodus 34:6). Why is God’s Name doubled in the verse? They explain that the first iteration of “Adonai” applies to our relationship with God prior to violating the covenant; the second “Adonai” affirms our relationship with God after we have sinned. While we might well fear that sin distances us from God, in reality God remains very much concerned about us and attached to us regardless of our behavior. No doubt this interpretation was meant to be a reassuring message to people that even if they felt they had strayed far from God and violated serious dictates of the covenant, God remains in relationship with them and welcomes their teshuvah (repentance and return) at any time. God’s love and connection are eternal and unconditional. Teshuvah (repentance) is easier when one knows that God will receive it favorably.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. The image of God as a prayer leader wrapped in a tallit raises the question of how we imagine and speak about God. On Rosh Hashanah, just one week away, we will deploy numerous images of God, chief among them “Father/Parent and Ruler” (Avinu malkeinu). Throughout the High Holy Day season, we will add many more vivid metaphors, including God as Shepherd, Potter,  Lover, Friend. Which of these metaphors help you in thinking about your relationship with God? Are any of them a hindrance? Why?
2. The Talmud seems to be saying that if we go through certain motions—specifically, the recitation of prescribed prayers—God will (automatically?) forgive. Where is teshuvah (repentance) in this process? (See the baraita below, which appears on the same page of Talmud as our passage.)  Does the recital require or inspire a certain state of mind? Or is it a workaround to genuine teshuvah?
3. How do you use the prayers, music, scriptural readings, and the atmosphere of the High Holy Days to help you do teshuvah (repentance)?

They challenged this [from a baraita]: If one repents between [Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur], he is pardoned. If he did not repent between [Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur], even if he brought all the rams of Nevayot [the finest rams; see Isaiah 60:7] that exist [as offerings] he is not pardoned. (Rosh Hashanah 17b)

This edition of Ten Minutes of Talmud is available as a pdf here. 

Divine Contradictions — BT Rosh Hashanah 17b (part 1) — #54

Rav Huna presented a contradiction: It is written, God is just in all [God’s] ways, and it is written [in the same verse], and acts with loving kindness in all [God’s] deeds (Psalm 145:17). Initially, [God is] just, but in the end, [God acts with] loving kindness.
R. Elazar presented a contradiction: It is written, And to You, Adonai, is loving kindness, and [in the same verse] it is written, for you repay each person according to their deeds (Psalm 62:13). Initially [God acts from the standpoint of], for You repay each person according to their deeds, but in the end [God acts from the standpoint of], And to You, Adonai, is loving kindness.
Ilfai, and some say Ilfa, presented a contradiction: It is written, and abundant in kindness, and [in the same verse] it is written, and truth (Exodus 34:6). Initially, [God acts from the standpoint of] and truth, but in the end, [God acts out of] and abundant in kindness.

INTRODUCTION

Rosh Hashanah is conceived by the Rabbis as a day when the entire world is arrayed before God for judgment. Those whose merits outweighs their misdeeds are written into Sefer ha-Chaim (the Book of Life); those whose misdeeds outweigh their merits risk not being inscribed in the Book of Life. The Rabbis teach that God’s condemnation of the latter group is not a slam dunk, however, because the divine Judge of the universe is loving, forgiving, and merciful.

On the High Holy Days, two attributes of God are front and center: God’s sense of Justice (God is seen as the Judge on High who evaluates our deeds from the past year and passes sentence on us), as well as Mercy (God wants to forgive us and give us another chance to get it right). God’s Justice and Mercy sometimes appear to the Rabbis to be at odds with one another. They imagine God wrestling with these two divine inclinations: If God acts solely out of compassion, justice will not be served, but if God acts entirely according to the dictates of justice, who could survive? Will God come down on the side of strict justice or on the side of forgiving mercy? The Rabbis note three particularly verses where these two attributes seem to be at odds with one another.

When Moses ascended Mount Sinai to receive the Torah from God the second time, God descended in a cloud, passed before Moses, and proclaimed: Adonai! Adonai! A God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin; yet [God] does not remit all punishment, but visits the iniquity of parents upon children and children’s children, upon the third and fourth generations. (Exodus 34:6-7) We recite the first part of this passage (up until the semi-colon) in synagogue on the High Holy Days before the open ark; the second part is dropped. The Rabbis were keenly aware that the full passage presents seemingly contradictory aspects of God: God is merciful, but also values justice and accordingly dispenses punishment; God prizes truth, but acts out of a love that sometimes ignores the truth of human behavior. What is more, there are other verses that present God’s seemingly contradictory inclinations.

COMMENTARY

For them, it is a sin qua non that God wants to forgive us and embrace us in love. In our passage, three rabbis present three verses—two from Psalms and one from the Exodus passage cited above—which are potentially self-contradictory. The Rabbis are determined to present God as favoring forgiveness and loving kindness over justice, truth, and punishment—even when doing so requires reversing the order of the phrases of a verse: taken in the verses’ original word order, two of the three might be used to “prove” that God favors judgment over forgiveness. In the hands of these sages, it is precisely the opposite.

Rav Huna finds a verse in Psalm 145 that ascribes to God both justice and kindness. What happens when these traits are in opposition to one another? Rav Huna tells us that God begins to evaluable human behavior from the perspective of justice, but moves to the attribute of loving kindness: ultimately God forgives. R. Elazar presents a verse from Psalm 62 that ascribes to God loving kindness followed by retribution—in that order. He tidily reverses the order of the attributes as presented in the verse to arrive at the same conclusion as Rav Huna: God initially plans retribution, but settles into loving kindness. Ilfai (or Ilfa), citing Exodus 34:6-7, follows the same pattern and performs the same slight of hand as R. Elazar, reversing the order of the attributes so that, once again, God begins with the attribute of harsh judgment (truth) and moves to a more forgiving stance (abundant kindness).

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. The High Holy Days can induce anxiety and fear in people who subscribe to the belief that God is a divine Being who keeps a ledger of their good and bad deeds, judges them, and determines their future. What might this passage say to people who hold that God-idea? What might this passage to people who, themselves, are inclined to judging others harshly?
2. Are the Rabbis talking about God’s behavior or about ours? Could the Rabbis intent be more prescriptive than descriptive? That is to say, are the Rabbis signaling us that godlike behavior (imitatio dei) requires us to set aside our tendency to judge others and adopt a stance of compassion and forgiveness whenever possible—just like God? Can you recall occasions when you responded from the perspective of “justice” and “judgment,” but might have done better to have responded from the standpoint of “mercy” and “loving kindness?” Can you recall a time when someone responded to you from the perspective of “justice” and “judgment” rather than “mercy” and “loving kindness”?
3. How is “truth” related to strict judgment? When is it appropriate to respond to someone from that perspective, and when is it important to respond with mercy and loving kindness and give them the benefit of the doubt?

(Download pdf of TMT #54)

How Dangerous are Oaths? — BT Gittin 35a — #53

It once happened during a period of famine that a certain man deposited a golden dinar with a widow and she placed it in a flour jug. [Subsequently] she baked it into a loaf of bread and gave [the bread] to a poor man. Several days later, the owner of the dinar returned and said to her, “Give me my dinar.” She said to him, “May one of that woman’s [i.e., my] children be poisoned if I have derived any benefit from your dinar.” They reported that it was no more than a few days before one of her children died. When the Sages heard of this matter, they said, “If such [happens to] one who has sworn truthfully, how much more so to one who swears falsely!” [But] why was she punished? Because she gained the place of the dinar. How, then, [could they claim she was] “one who has sworn truthfully”? [She is] like one who has sworn truthfully.

INTRODUCTION

Backing up to get the bigger picture: A ketubah protects a woman from penury in the case her marriage ends by death or divorce. It is a lien on her husband’s estate. What happens if another claimant to the estate asserts that her husband paid her part or all of the ketubah prior his death or divorce?

The mishnah preceding and inspiring the Gemara discussion that recounts the incident above tells us that originally the widow would swear in the court that her deceased husband had not prepaid the ketubah prior to his death. Some years later, the courts stopped permitting women to swear an oath, and as a result many widows could not collect their due—an injustice that undermined the very purpose of having a ketubah. Therefore, Rabban Gamliel the Elder decreed that widows could make a vow (not quite the same as swearing an oath) in order to collect the value of their ketubot. The incident recounted in our passage (the source of which is unclear: some say was related by Rav Kahana and others say was recounted by Rav Yehudah in the name of Rav) concerns a woman who makes a statement that the Rabbis understand to be an oath with disastrous consequences, even though her oath was completely truthful as far as she knew. The purpose of the story is to illustrate the danger of making oaths, thereby justifying the mishnah’s assertion that the Rabbis stopped allowing women to make oaths in court.

This story is an excellent example of a recurrent problem in religious (as well as philosophic and ethical) traditions: Every religious claim has tentacles, implications that often become entangled with logic, morality, and other religious beliefs.

COMMENTARY

A widow accepts responsibility to take care of the man’s dinar (a gold coin) and hides it in a place that no one is likely to find it: her flour bin. Inadvertently, when she scoops up some flour to make bread, the dinar finds its way into the dough and is baked into the bread, which she gives away to a poor person. When the man comes to collect the dinar he deposited with her, she cannot find it and therefore truthfully swears an oath that she did not steal it. Her oath is, “May one of my children die if I benefited from your dinar.” Several days later, one of her children dies. The Sages who hear this story are convinced that the woman did not steal the dinar, and swore the oath thinking that the dinar was lost, and fully believing that she did not benefit from it in any way. Yet they presume the death resulted from the hand of heaven, the consequence of her oath. Accordingly, they respond that if the consequences of one who truthfully swore an oath are so dire, imagine what happens to one who knowingly swore a falsified oath. 

The Gemara objects: This makes no sense! If the widow misplaced the dinar and, to the best of  her knowledge, did not benefit from it, why would God punish her so harshly? In response to this legitimate challenge, the Gemara ties itself in knots to maintain the connection between the child’s death and the woman’s oath: the claim is made that she did, in fact, benefit, even if unknowingly, by retaining the volume of flour equal to the volume that the dinar displaced. If that is the case, the Gemara contends, then the claim that she made the vow truthfully is incorrect, yet as far as she could ascertain, it was truthful. The Gemara responds that the Rabbis only meant that she is like one who swears an oath truthfully in that she believed that she had not benefited from the dinar.

This story raises a host of thorny questions and exposes numerous moral and theological problems, which I will touch on below.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. For the Rabbis, the story illustrates the danger of swearing oaths. Do you think the story is effective? Why or why not?
2. Did the widow truly gain the small amount of flour displaced by the dinar, given that she didn’t sell the bread but gave it away to a poor person?
3. How do you respond to the Rabbis’ tacit claim that God would punish a person who
   
   is fundamentally honest and decent, but who loses track of a coin she is asked to guard, by ending the life of her child? What kind of God does that? Why do you think the Rabbis are willing to assert that the widow’s child’s death was the result of her actions? What is your reaction to the cartoon at the right?
   
   

Which One First? — BT Kiddushin 32a — #52

Elazar b. Matya says, “If my father says, ‘Give me a drink of water,’ but I have a mitzvah to do [at the same time], I lay aside the honor of my father to do the mitzvah [first], because I and my father are [both] obligated to perform the mitzvah.” Issi b. Yehudah says, “If it is possible for others to fulfill the mitzvah, it should be done by others and [the son] should attend to the honor of his father.” Rav Matnah said, “The halakhah follows Issi b. Yehudah.”

INTRODUCTION

Honoring one’s parents is #5 of the “Top Ten” mitzvot. There are two versions of the Ten Commandments in the Torah; both Exodus 20:12 and Deuteronomy 5:16 command us to honor our parents. But there is a third iteration of this mitzvah in Leviticus 19:3 where we are told to revere our parents. In tractate Kiddushin, the Rabbis discuss at length what the difference between “honoring” and “revering” is, what precisely is entailed in each, and who is financially liable for the cost of caring for one’s parents as the mitzvah requires. In addition, they offer anecdotes to illustrate their points. 

Some of the situations the Rabbis envision are sticky. For example, R. Eliezer was asked how far one should go in honoring one’s parents. He responds with this scenario, “To the point that if [the father] takes a wallet [full of money] and throws it into the sea in [the son’s] presence, the son may not embarrass him.” It is not clear who the owner of the wallet is, but nonetheless, R. Eliezer  claims that kibbud av (“honoring one’s father”) requires that the son not attempt to stop the father at the risk of embarrassing him. How many of us could adhere to R. Eliezer’s standard?

Our passage recounts a disagreement between Elazar b. Matya and Issi b. Yehudah concerning how one sets priorities in a situation of overlapping obligations. We should note that on the previous daf (31a) a young man poses a similar question to R. Eliezer: If both parents request water simultaneously, whom do I serve first? R. Eliezer instructs him to serve his father first because, “both you and your mother are obligated to honor your father.” The young man goes to R. Yehoshua, asks the same question, and receives the same response. He then asks: “What if my parents are divorced?” R. Yehoshua can discern from the young man’s countenance that his father is no longer living and responds to his disingenuous question facetiously, “Pour water into a pitcher for them and coo to them as to roosters!” Talmud does not make a clear determination that the father takes priority over the mother. A later law code, the Shulchan Arukh (Yoreh Deah 240:14), determines that the child may choose which parent to serve first. It will soon become clear why I am recounting this discussion.

COMMENTARY

The Rabbis have determined (daf 31b) that honor your father and mother “means that the child must provide the parent with food and drink, clothe and cover him, and lead a parent in and out.” But what should you do if, at the very moment that your parent requests a drink of water, you have another pressing mitzvah to perform? It is clear from the context that the type of mitzvah we are talking about is one that is time-bound: fulfilling it later is not an option. (Otherwise, there would be no conflict of obligations.) Do you ask your parent to wait until you have completed the mitzvah? Do you delay, and possibly set aside completely, the other mitzvah in favor of getting  water for your parent?

Elazar b. Matya tells us that he relegates kibbud av (“honoring his father”) to another (presumably time-bound) mitzvah because his father is also obligated to the other mitzvah. This echoes R. Eliezer’s thinking in the situation mentioned above concerning the young man who asks which parent he should serve first: R. Eliezer responds that he should first serve the father because both he and his mother are obligated to serve the father. In Elazar b. Matya’s case however, Issi b. Yehudah offers another way to approach the conundrum, telling us that if someone else is available to perform the mitzvah, that is a preferable solution since both mitzvot are thereby fulfilled. Rav Matnah affirms this as halakhah.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Can you think of other solutions to the conflict of obligations? For example, if you were to ask someone else to get your parent a glass of water so you could attend to the other mitzvah, would that be a dereliction of duty to your parent? (Today, assisted living and nursing homes often fulfill the obligations of kibbud av v’em, serving as the agents of the child.)
2. Immediately after the discussion of Elazar b. Matya’s scenario, we find, “Rav Yitzhak b. Shila said in Rav Matnah’s name, who said in Rav Chisda’s name: If a father renounces the honor due him, his honor is renounced.” If a parent has the right to forego honor due him or her, is it appropriate for the parent to do so when the child is caught between two conflicting obligations? If, for example, the conflicting mitzvah were burying the dead, we would probably say that the parent ought to choose to forego the honor due them. But if the parent refuses to forego their honor, what would you recommend?
3. There is a halakhic principle that should rescue us from the dilemma described in our passage: עוסק במצוה פטור מן המצוה “One who is engaged in performing a mitzvah is exempt from performing another mitzvah” (BT Berakhot 11a). Talmud even goes so far as to say that שלוחי מצוה (“messengers of a mitzvah,” i.e., someone actively preparing to perform a mitzvah) is exempt from another simultaneous obligation (BT Sukkah 25a). It is surprising that this principle is not invoked here, but even if it were, would it give us guidance concerning which mitzvah takes precedence?

Go Shopping! — BT Shabbat 119a — #51

There was a very wealthy gentile in the neighborhood of Joseph Who Honors Shabbat. Astrologers said to him, “Joseph Who Honors Shabbat will come to possess all [your] property.” He went and sold all his property and purchased a precious jewel. He placed it in his turban. As he was crossing a river [on a ferry], a gust of wind blew [his turban] into the water. A fish swallowed the jewel. [Fishermen] caught [the fish] and brought it [to market] late on Friday. They said, “Who will buy it now?” They said to them, “Go, bring it to Joseph Who Honors Shabbat. He always buys.” They brought it to him and he bought it. He cut it open and found the jewel inside. He sold it for thirteen trunks of gold dinarim. An old man met him and said, “One who expends money for Shabbat, Shabbat repays.”

INTRODUCTION

The Sages struggled with the idea of divine determination and astrological predestination. The former accords to God control over the course of our lives, while the latter solves the  inconsistencies lying behind the question: Why would a just God permit the righteous to suffer and the evil to prosper?

The Sages often espouse the belief that, as we say today, “what goes around, comes around.” This philosophy is termed middah k’neged middah (“measure for measure”): goodness and generosity are repaid in kind, but so are cruelty and greed. This claim of retributive justice buttresses the rabbinic belief in God’s justice, which may be delayed—sometimes even postponed until olam ha-ba (the world-to-come)—but ultimately God is just. In their enthusiasm to commend observance of mitzvot to us, the Sages promise that practice will be rewarded with wealth. The story told above is an illustration. Joseph honored shabbat and, as a result, became wealthy through a complex series of unlikely events. Immediately following the story above, the Gemara asserts that in addition to those who honor shabbat, those in Eretz Yisrael who tithe, and those in Babylonia who honor Torah, are rewarded by heaven with wealth.

COMMENTARY

Our protagonist is known as Yosef Mokir Shabbat (Joseph Who Honors Shabbat). He lives in the neighborhood of a wealthy man who is accustomed to visiting astrologers (Gemara calls them “Chaldeans”) to forecast the future and advise him. While Talmud gives a nod to astrology (T Kiddushin 5:17, BT Avodah Zarah 5a), we also find Talmud averring that Jews may not rely on astrology (BT Shabbat 156a, Pesachim 113b). Most famously, BT Shabbat 156a states ain mazal l’Yisrael—the stars and constellations do not, nor should not be understood to, influence the destiny of the Jewish people. In the story of Yosef Mokir Shabbat, mention of the gentile neighbor’s reliance on astrologers and the message they deliver serves two purposes: (1) It confirms that he is an idolater; and (2) that he is consumed by the desire for wealth. 

When the astrologers tell Joseph’s neighbor that some day all his wealth will pass into Joseph’s hands, he goes to great lengths to prevent this from happening. He sells all his property and purchases a priceless gem with the proceeds, thereby concentrating all his wealth into one, small item. He tucks the gem into his turban so that he can wear it at all times on his person. Or so he  thinks. A strong wind blows his turban into the water, the gem falls out, and a fish swallows it. The fisherman catches the fish and brings it to market late on Friday afternoon, a time when it will be difficult to sell because almost everyone has already made their purchases for shabbat. The fisherman worries that he will be unable to sell the fish, but he needn’t worry, people tell him, because Joseph Who Honors Shabbat can always be counted on to spend lavishly on his shabbat preparations. Indeed, Joseph purchases the fish and takes it home. When he cuts it open, he discovers the gem, whose value, we are told, is equivalent to thirteen trunks of gold coins—an extraordinary (and hyperbolic) sum, by any measure. The neighbor’s wealth is now Joseph’s.

An anonymous old man enters the tale to articulate the moral of the story: Those who expend their resources to celebrate shabbat will be repaid handsomely.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. The ostensible purpose of the story, it seems, is to illustrate how expending one’s resources to observe shabbat is repaid by heaven. But we may well wonder: Did Joseph become wealthy because it was predestined by the stars (as the astrologers predicted), or because he punctiliously honored shabbat? Does mention of the astrologers enhance the story, or confuse the message? Can you envision an interpretation of the story’s moral (“One who expends money for Shabbat, Shabbat repays”) that does not become ensnarled in a conversation about predestination, either divine or astrological?
2. If Joseph knew the fisherman or that the jewel had belonged to his neighbor, should he have returned the gem? (See TMT #46-Return Receipt Requested?)
3. What are your thoughts concerning Rava’s claim, as reported in Mo’ed Katan 28a that the length of one’s life, the birth and survival of one’s children, and one’s financial success in life do not depend upon merit, but rather upon mazal (influence of, or destiny as ordained in, the stars; “mazal” means constellation). Rava compares two righteous sages: R. Chisda lived to be 92, but Rabbah died at 40. R. Chisda’s family enjoyed wealth and celebrated sixty marriages in the time Rabbah’s family  struggled to subsist and suffered sixty bereavements. Could “mazal” be a way of ameliorating the problematic assumption of divine providence in such matters?

The story of Yosef Mokir Shabbat is beautifully retold and embellished by Marilyn Hirsch and richly illustrated by Devis Grebu in Joseph Who Loved Shabbat (Puffin Press, 1988). Sadly, it is out of print. Happily, used copies are available from web vendors.