The Power of Compassion — BT Baba Metzia 85a — #103

Rabbi [Yehudah ha-Nasi] said, “How precious is suffering!” He accepted upon himself thirteen years [of suffering]: six years of kidney stones and seven years of scurvy, and some say seven years of scurvy and six years of kidney stones. The stableman at Rabbi’s house was wealthier than King Shapur [of Persia]. When he would throw fodder to the animals, the noise [they made] could be heard three miles away. He would arrange to throw [fodder to the animals] just as Rabbi entered the bathroom. Even so, [Rabbi’s] cries were louder than the noise [of the animals] and were heard by seafarers. Nevertheless, the suffering of R. Elazar b. R. Shimon was greater than that of Rabbi, for whereas those of R. Elazar b. R. Shimon came through love and departed through love, those of Rabbi came as the result of a certain incident and departed as the result of an incident. [His sufferings] came as the result of a certain incident—what was this? A calf was being led to slaughter. It tried to hide in the folds of Rabbi’s garment and it lowed. He said to it, “Go, for this you were created.” They said [in heaven], “Since he does not show mercy, let suffering come upon him.” And [his sufferings] departed as the result of an incident—one day, Rabbi’s maidservant was sweeping the house. There were baby weasels there and she [intended] to sweep them away. [Rabbi] said to her, “Leave them be. It is written, [God’s] tender mercies are upon all [God’s] creatures (Psalm 145:9).” They said [in heaven], “Since he shows compassion, let us show compassion to him.”

INTRODUCTION

Human suffering is both ubiquitous and troubling. It is therefore unsurprising that the Rabbis frequently discuss why it happens, what it means, and how to cope with it.  Given the limited physical and mental health options in the ancient world to alleviate suffering, the Rabbis’ capacity to mitigate suffering lay in their ability to reframe it, often in positive terms. Hence, viewing suffering as a gift from God that will be repaid many times over is one strategy employed by the Rabbis to explain suffering. This passage, however, suggests that suffering can be God’s punishment for offensive behavior—here, a failure of compassion.

For the Rabbis, suffering could be punishment from heaven, 

atonement for sin, or it could be a gift from God that will be repaid with interest.

The passage above follows a long treatise on the self-inflicted sufferings of R. Elazar b. R. Shimon and the merit that accrued to him for accepting these sufferings willingly: after he died, his body lay in an attic for many years without decomposing (84b). Rabbi Yehudah ha-Nasi (whom Gemara refers to as “Rabbi”) understands this to be a sign of R. Elazar’s greatness.

COMMENTARY

Having seen that suffering marked R. Elazar as righteous, Rabbi pronounces suffering “precious” and seeks to accept upon himself suffering to gain similar merit in the eyes of God. The nature of his suffering is disputed: tz’mirta means stones in the kidneys or urinary tract; tz’farna is understood as scurvy or thrush. The precise length of each ailment is less important than the claim that Rabbi brought it upon himself willingly and that his pain was so intense that his cries of agony were louder than the intensely loud noise made by the animals, whose keeper provoked them to make noise in order to drown out Rabbi’s cries of pain—all this functions to inform the reader that Rabbi suffered greatly.

The Gemara then undercuts the claim that Rabbi accepted suffering willingly by comparing the merit of his suffering unfavorably to that of R. Elazar b. R. Shimon. Whereas R. Elazar’s suffering came about through love (that is, he accepted suffering as a token of God’s love), Rabbi’s suffering came about, and also ceased, due to particular incidents. What were the incidents? Both involved Rabbi’s attitude toward the suffering of animals: His failure to show compassion toward a calf being hauled to slaughter compounded by his callous and erroneous claim that the animal existed only to become food for human beings provoked heaven to punish him with suffering. This is divine retribution: middah k’neged middah (measure for measure). The incident that ended Rabbi’s suffering is the appropriate bookend to the onset of his suffering: when he treats mere weasels with compassion and saves them from his maidservant’s broom, and even more when he quotes Psalm 145:9 as not merely descriptive of God’s compassion toward living creatures but as prescriptive for people’s obligation to show compassion for all animals, he demonstrates that he has repented the fault that brought on his suffering. Therefore heaven repays his compassion to the weasels by showing him compassion—his suffering ceases.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. How do you view suffering? Do you consider it a natural part of life that is divorced from questions of behavior and righteousness? Do you think it results from ethical choices and behaviors? Do you believe it is an objective experience or a state of mind? Given your answers to these questions, how should one who holds your views approach their own suffering?
2. The Rabbis had ample opportunity to observe the residue of suffering on the soul. Does it leave one more compassionate and resilient, or more fearful and bitter? What has been your experience of suffering? Psychologists Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun have written about the possibility of positive personal growth in the aftermath of painful trauma, which they term “post-traumatic growth.” This includes “improved relationships, new possibilities for one's life, a greater appreciation for life, a greater sense of personal strength and spiritual development.” Have you witnessed this in someone else or experienced it in yourself?
3. Why do you think that the story about Rabbi portrays a failure of compassion as the cause of suffering and the development of compassion as the “cure” of suffering? Is there an inherent connection between suffering and compassion?

Eat Together, Bless Separately? — BT Berakhot 45b — #102

Yehudah bar Mereimar, Mar bar Rav Ashi, and Rav Acha of Difti ate a meal together. No one of them was more distinguished than his fellows to lead the blessing for them [i.e., Birkat ha-Mazon, the grace after meals]. They said, “Concerning that which was taught in the Mishnah—‘Three who ate together are obligated to join in zimum [the formal invitation by one of a group that ate together for the others to join in the blessings of Birkat ha-Mazon]’—this pertains only when one person is distinguished. But where all are equal to one another separate blessings is preferable.” [Hence] each person recited Birkat ha-Mazon for himself. [Later] they came before Mereimar. He said to them, “You have fulfilled the obligation of Birkat ha-Mazon, but you have not fulfilled the obligation of the zimun. And if you say, ‘We’ll go back and say the zimun,’ there is no retroactive zimun.”

INTRODUCTION

On this basis of Deuteronomy 8:10 (When you have eaten and been satisfied, you shall blessed Adonai your God for the good land that God has given you ), the Rabbis ordained and composed Birkat ha-Mazon, a series of blessings to be recited after eating a meal that includes bread. The three sages named above are discussing the zimun of Birkat ha-Mazon. The zimun is the invitation by one person, extended to dining companions, to recite Birkat ha-Mazon. The Rabbis ordained (M Berakhot 7:1, on the previous daf) that when three people eat bread together, they are obligated to join in a zimun, whereby one person “invites” the others to recite Birkat ha-Mazon. The Gemara on 45a explains that Rav Assi derived the obligation of zimun from Psalm 34:4 and R. Abahu derived it from Deuteronomy 32:3, but many authorities hold that the zimun is a rabbinic, not Toraitic, obligation.

The basic structure of Birkat ha-Mazon is four blessings preceded by the zimun. The Talmud explains these blessings on daf 48b as the Rabbis’ interpretation of the Deuteronomy 8:10: (1) When you have eaten and been satisfied you shall bless → praise for God who sustains the world with food (blessing #1); (2) Adonai your God → the zimun; (3) for the land → thanks to God with special focus on the land of Israel, the source of Israel’s sustenance (blessing #2); (4) good → request that God protect and rebuild Jerusalem (blessing #3); (5) that God has given you → general praise of and thanks to God (blessing #4). (Additional short blessings have been added to Birkat ha-Mazon, as well as blessings for shabbat and festivals.) 

COMMENTARY

An anecdote is recounted concerning three rabbis who eat a meal together but recite Birkat ha-Mazon privately. They do not say the zimun, that is, no one invites the others to recite Birkat ha-Mazon. Gemara wants to know why they neglect the zimun. They explain their decision saying they believe that the Mishnah’s requirement of zimun pertains only when one of the people present is acknowledged as a greater Torah scholar than the others.

Rav’s students were sitting [and eating] a meal together. Rav Acha came [and joined them]. They said, “A great man has come who will recite for us [i.e., lead the zimun]. [Rav Acha] said to them, “Do you think that the greatest one blesses [i.e., leads Birkat ha-Mazon]? A primary member of the meal blesses.” But the halakhah is that the greatest one blesses even though he came at the end [of the meal]. (BT Berakhot 47a)

It may be that the three colleagues have in mind another incident recounted on Berakhot 47a (see above), in which Rav’s students are eating a meal together when Rav Acha (one of the three rabbis who omit zimun since no one of them is deemed a greater Torah scholar than the others) arrives late to join the meal. The students assume that since Rav Acha is a great sage, he will lead them in Birkat ha-Mazon, but he demurs, saying that someone who was there throughout the meal should lead Birkat ha-Mazon. The Gemara dismisses Rav Acha’s viewpoint, promulgating a halakhic decision that a Torah scholar of prominence, even one who arrived halfway through the meal, should lead Birkat ha-Mazon. 

When the three scholars who recited Birkat ha-Mazon privately (although they ate together) recount this incident to Mereimar, he tells them that while they fulfilled the obligation of reciting Birkat ha-Mazon, they did not fulfill the obligation of saying the zimun. Furthermore, Mereimar says, having recited the blessings of Birkat ha-Mazon, one cannot go back and recite the zimun afterward any more than one would issue an invitation to an event after the event took place.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Do you think the Rabbis place so much emphasis on the zimun because it is an opportunity to recite a blessing, or due to its potential to create community among people who eat together, or as a “reward” for eating with others rather than alone? How important are communal meals in your life?

2. Rav Acha’s says the one who leads Birkat ha-Mazon should be a “primary” diner. The subsequent halakhah ordains that “the greatest one blesses even though he came at the end [of the meal].” Memeimar holds that someone should lead even if none is considered most distinguished. Which view do you prefer? Often today, a guest at the table is invited to lead Birkat ha-Mazon; does this comport with one of the three views or is it reflect yet another? 

3. The zimun (invitation) applies when people eat a meal together, but what constitutes “eating together?” Imagine a school, workplace cafeteria, or restaurant with multiple tables where people bring or buy their own meal, arriving at different but overlapping times. Or perhaps a large group, such as a family, eats at the same time but occupies several tables. Or imagine people purposefully eating at the same table but each is on his/her cell phone. Under which conditions would you say they are eating “together?”

“Everyone” includes whom? — BT Pesachim 108a (part 2) — #101

A woman in her husband’s presence is not required to recline. But if she is a woman of importance she must recline. A son in his father's presence is required to recline. They [the rabbis] asked: What is the law concerning a disciple in his teacher’s presence? Come and learn: Abaye said, “When we were at the master’s [Rabbah bar Nachmani] academy, we would lean on each other's knees. When we came to R. Yosef’s academy he said to us, ‘You do not need to [recline, because] a student’s reverence for his teacher should be as great as his reverence for God.’” They challenged [the view that a student does not recline in the presence of his teacher from the following baraita]: A person reclines in the presence of everyone, even a student in the presence of his teacher. What was the baraita about? It concerned a carpenter’s apprentice. They asked: What is the law concerning a servant? Come and learn: R. Yehoshua b. Levi said, “A servant who ate an olive’s volume of matzah while reclining has fulfilled the obligation. If he reclined, yes [he fulfilled the obligation], but if he did not recline, no [he did not fulfilled the obligation]. Learn from this that he [the servant] is required to recline. Learn from this.

INTRODUCTION

Mishnah Pesachim 10:1 (see TMT #100) stipulates that everyone, even the least likely member of the community to have the means—a poor person— eats reclining on Passover night. Reclining, the posture of kings and aristocrats, enacts one’s freedom. However, according to the social mores of the period, one sits in the presence of a superior only with permission and after the superior is seated.

COMMENTARY

The Gemara considers four categories of people who, in the presence of someone who has authority over them, might be exempt from reclining: (A) women; (B) sons; (C) students; (D) servants.

(A) Women: Although the mishnah presumed that all are obligated to recline, the Gemara says that a woman in her husband’s presence is not required to recline unless she is considered prominent in her own right. This restriction is the invention of the Babylonian rabbis.

(B) Sons: Given a father’s authority over his son, the Gemara asks if a son ought to recline in the presence of his father. Unsurprisingly, the answer is yes. The son reclines because, like all Jews, he was redeemed from Egypt. Yet weren’t all women also redeemed from Egypt?

(C) Disciples: In the rabbinic value system, one owes one’s teacher even greater deference for teaching him Torah than one’s father, who gave him life. The Gemara reports, and then rejects, powerful anecdotal evidence: Abaye, who headed the academy at Pumbedita, recounts that when Rabbah bar Nachmani was the head, students adopted an intermediary posture, neither sitting upright nor fully reclining, by leaning on one another’s knees, thus paying respect to their teacher but only partially fulfilled the Mishnah’s requirement to recline. When R. Yosef succeeded Rabbah, he exempted the students from the obligation to recline on the basis of R. Elazar b. Shamua’s teaching that “a student’s reverence for his teacher should be as great as his reverence for God” (Pirkei Avot  4:15). The views of both Rabbah and R. Yosef are challenged with an earlier teaching that affirms that everyone reclines, even a student in the presence of his teacher—explicitly noting that here “teacher” refers to one who instructs him in a secular skill, such as carpentry, here applied to the master who teaches his student Torah. Yet somehow the ruling does not mitigate the previous exemption of women who are not deemed “important.”

(D) Servants: Finally, the Gemara asks about a servant. There is an irony here since the servant who must wait on others at the Passover seder is—at least optically—like a slave. Does such a person cease working long enough to sit and recline during the seder nonetheless? The answer is an unequivocal yes. Yet somehow a woman in the presence of her husband does not unless she is “important.”

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. The Gemara, unlike Mishnah, treats women differently from men with regard to the obligation to recline. Psychologist Steven Pinker has written that “some [social] categories really are social constructions: they exist only because people tacitly agree to act as if they exist” (Blank Slate, 2002). Do you think this passage reflects an example of the Rabbis’ social construction of gender?
2. The assumption that women, unlike sons, students, and servants, are inferior or subservient to men who have authority over them reflects either overt or implicit bias. In some regards, the latter is more difficult to overcome than the former because we are either unaware or in denial. Consider this: On February 3, 1870, the 15th Amendment to the Constitution declared that the "right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any state on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude.” Yet while no one questioned that women were citizens, it was another half century before the 19th Amendment granted women suffrage (on May 21, 1919). Where else do you see implicit bias?
3. Commentators trip over one another in their attempts to explain the Gemara’s treatment of women in the matter of reclining. Today this sounds minimally like a halakhic gaffe and maximally like misogyny. For example, the Rashbam (grandson of Rashi) explained that a woman is apprehensive in her husband’s presence and subservient to him. Rabbi Moses Isserles, who wrote an Ashkenazic gloss to the Shulchan Arukh (O.H. 472) remarks that “women nowadays are all important.” Rashbam’s explanation seeks to justify the Gemara; Isserles’ gloss seeks a work-around. Do you think it best to deal with such problems in the tradition as Rashbam did, as Isserles did, or to confront such inequities head on by rejecting for our time and our understanding of God, Torah, and Jewish tradition?

Drink Up and Lean Back — BT Pesachim 108a (part 1) — #100

MISHNAH 10:1 (99b): On the eve of Passover, close to the time of minchah, one may not eat until nightfall. Even a poor person in Israel must not eat until reclining, and they give him no fewer than four cups [of wine] even [if he receives money] from the charity plate.GEMARA (108a): Even a poor person in Israel must not eat until reclining. It was stated: Eating matzah requires reclining [but] eating bitter herbs does not require reclining. [Concerning] wine: It was said in the name of Rav Nachman that they must recline and it was stated in the name of Rav Nachman that they are not required to recline. There is no conflict: this statement refers to the first two cups, this statement refers to the last two cups. Some explain it this way, while others explain it the other way. Some explain it this way: the first two cups require reclining because our freedom is beginning now. The last two cups do not require reclining [because] what happened already happened. And some explain it the other way around: On the contrary! The last two cups require reclining because then there is freedom. The first two cups do not require reclining because at that time one is still saying, “We were slaves to Pharaoh [in Egypt].” Now, [since] it was stated this way and that way, [today] both these [first two cups] and these [last two cups] require reclining.”

INTRODUCTION

For the final plague that secures their release from slavery, God instructs the Israelites to smear blood on the doorposts and lintels of the houses in which they will eat the very first  paschal sacrifice and then, They shall eat the flesh that same night; they shall eat it roasted over the fire, with unleavened bread and with bitter herbs (Exodus 12:8)—instructions concerning a Passover meal.

From the time of the destruction of the Second Temple (70 C.E.), the Rabbis examined the biblical instructions concerning the Passover meal to work out how to hold held it now that it was no longer possible to bring the paschal sacrifice. The biblical core—paschal lamb, matzah, and maror—was enlarged to include four cups of wine, other symbolic foods, and a variety of rituals that express freedom and gratitude, chief among them reclining at the dinner table because that is the prerogative only of free people.

COMMENTARY

Mishnah Pesachim 10:1 provides three instructions: (1) Do not eat in the late afternoon before the Passover meal (save your appetite for the feast to come). (2) Everyone, including the poor, is entitled to recline; regardless of the circumstances of their lives, Passover is a time to relive the redemption of the Israelites and experience freedom as they did. (3) Poor people, no less than everyone else, are entitled to four cups of wine, even if supplied by the community charity fund.

The Gemara notes that one must recline (demonstrating the posture of free people) while eating matzah, but not while eating maror (bitter herbs). The distinction seems to be that the Israelites ate matzah after they were freed from Egypt when they knew what it was to be free. Maror, in contrast, conveys the bitterness of servitude; reclining while eating bitter herbs conflicts with the memory of slavery that maror is intended to invoke.

With this distinction in mind, the Rabbis wonder how to apply the principle deduced about reclining to drink the four cups of wine. Should one recline while drinking wine? Two versions of the opinion of Rav Nachman are recorded: yes and no. The Rabbis resolve the problem by accepting both opinions, assigning one to the first two cups of wine (which are drunk prior to the meal) and the other opinion to the last two cups (which are drunk following the meal).

But how does that work? Does one recline for the first two cups and not the last two, or vice versa? Even here, Gemara reports two conflicting opinions. The first view holds that one reclines for the first two cups, drunk during the portion of the seder when one is most actively engaged in reliving the experience by telling the story of the Exodus and most keenly feeling redeemed: reclining mirrors one’s intellectual and emotional experience. After the meal, redemption is a “done deal” so reclining is unnecessary. The alternative view holds that throughout the first half of the seder one is supposed to be in the mindset of slavery, imagining what it was like for the Israelites to suffer enslavement, to endure the plagues, to leave Egypt, and to be chased by the Egyptians to the shore of the Reed Sea. The Israelites were hardly secure and safe enough to recline; hence neither do we. After the meal, however, participants are in the mindset of freedom, completing the psalms of Hallel that praise and thank God for our freedom. This, in the second view, is the time to recline.

The resolution of the differing opinions is that we should recline for all four cups of wine, those drunk prior to the meal and following it, encouraging us to experience freedom throughout.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. We hold our Passover seders at a dining table seated on chairs because that is how we customarily eat. Similarly, the Rabbis imagined the Passover meal in the Greco-Roman style of dining in their day: a multi-course banquet featuring many cups of wine, with guests recumbent around a triclinium (a U-shaped arrangement of couches—see here).  Can you imagine other venues or styles for a seder? What would they contribute to the experience?
2. For many modern Jews, whose dining rooms are furnished with tables and upright chairs, reclining feels awkward and uncomfortable even with a pillow. This is the opposite of the intention. Where and how might you hold your seder so that reclining feels good and conveys a sense of freedom?
3. The Rabbis are working out how to actualize Torah’s prescriptions for the Passover meal, while also making the Passover evening experience a meaningful reliving of the Exodus. What have you added to your sedarim to bring the experience of the Exodus alive?

Who’s at Fault? — M Horayot 1:1 — #99

If the court issued a ruling permitting the violation of commandment mentioned in the Torah, and an individual went and unwittingly (bi-sh’gagah) did it on their instructions, whether [the court] did it and he did it with them, or whether they did it and he did it after them, or whether they did not do it and he did it, he is exempt because he relied on the court. If the court issued [such] a ruling and one of them knew that they erred, or a student qualified to issue rulings [knew that they erred], and the individual went and did it because of [the court’s] instructions, whether they did it and he did it with them, or whether they did it and he did it after them, or whether they did not do it and he did do it, he is liable because he was not relying on the court. This is the general rule: If one relies on himself, he is liable. If one relies on the court, he is exempt.

INTRODUCTION

A person who unintentionally violates a mitzvah, and even without knowing he did so, strikes us intuitively as entirely different from a person who knowingly and purposefully commits the same act. For the Torah, as for the Rabbis, there is a world of difference between a sin committed unwittingly (bi-sh’gagah) and one committed knowingly and intentionally (b’meizid). The liturgy of the High Holy Days reinforces this distinction. What happens when a court mistakenly declared a forbidden action permissible and a person relying on the court’s ruling violated a mitzvah?

Torah instructs (Leviticus 4 and Numbers 15:22–31) that one who sins unwittingly must bring a sacrifice as atonement to rectify their relationship with God and wipe the slate clean. Had the same person committed the same act intentionally, he would have deserved the punishment of karet (excision from the community). Horayot (“Instructions”), the last tractate in the Order Nezikim (“Damages”), concerns erroneous judgments made by the High Priest or the Sanhedrin and the consequences for one who acts on the basis of these mistaken rulings.

COMMENTARY

The mishnah first explains the conditions of the situation it wishes to discuss: A court promulgated an erroneous decision, permitting an act that Torah forbids. On this basis, an individual violated a mitzvah of the Torah, relying on the permission granted by the court. Whether that person committed the act together with members of the court, or whether she saw them do it and imitated them, or whether she merely knew about their ruling and committed the act independently, she is not considered guilty because she earnestly and reasonably relied on the court’s opinion.

If, however, she had reason to know that the court’s ruling was incorrect either because she was a member of the court, or because she herself possessed sufficient halakhic background and knowledge to realize the court’s error, yet she nonetheless acted in accordance with the court’s erroneous ruling (thereby violating a mitzvah) she is guilty of violating the mitzvah whether she did it (as in the first instance) together with the members of the court, in imitation of the members of the court, or independently on the basis of the court’s ruling.

Having expounded these two scenarios, the mishnah concludes by promulgating a general rule: If a person relies on his own judgment and it is wrong, he is liable for his behavior when it violates a mitzvah. If, however, a person relies on the ruling of a court that issues an erroneous ruling, he is not held guilty.

This raises the question: Can you claim you are innocent of violating the law by saying you were following a ruling of a court? According to the mishnah this depends: If you could not be expected to know their ruling was erroneous, you are not held liable. If, however, you had reason to know their ruling was invalid (perhaps because you had sufficient background) yet you go ahead and commit the forbidden act based on their ruling, you are guilty of the violation because you should have known—indeed, had the capacity to know—better.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Oliver North, working for the National Security Council during the Reagan administration in the late 1980s, was a central figure in the Iran-Contra scandal. (Weapons were illegally sold to Iran in the hopes of encouraging Iran to release U.S. hostages held in Lebanon. Profits from the weapons sales were funneled to right-wing Contra rebels in Nicaragua who engaged in massive human rights violations and terrorist attacks. The entire scheme was illegal.) North made clear in Senate hearings that he was proud of his actions, defending himself by saying, “I am not in the habit of questioning my superiors. If [Admiral Poindexter] deemed it not to be necessary to ask the President, I saluted smartly and charged up the hill,” and “I was given a mission and I tried to carry it out.” Where should the line be drawn between following orders and exerting one’s own moral agency? Have you ever faced such a decision?
2.  In 1945–46, following World War II, twenty-two Nazi leaders were put on trial in Nuremberg, Germany. Many of the defendants claimed innocence, arguing that “befehl ist befehl” (German: “an order is an order”); that is, they should not be found guilty for following orders. This is known as the “Nuremberg defense,” which Adolf Eichmann used unsuccessfully in 1962 to disavow responsibility for his crimes, claiming that he and others were “forced to serve as mere instruments.” When is “following orders” a reasonable defense? When is it not?
3. Three months after Eichmann’s trial began In Jerusalem, Yale psychologist Stanley Milgram designed an experiment (read about it here) designed to study how ordinary people could commit atrocities. Do you know anyone who participated in these, or similar, experiments? Do you think you would administer painful punishments to others? (Most people believe they would not, yet most test subjects did.) What conclusions do you think can be drawn from Milgram’s work about what Hannah Arendt termed “the banality of evil? (Eichmann in Jerusalem, 1963)

Prayerful Mindset — BT Berakhot 30b (part 2) — #98

GEMARA: Whence this law [that one should achieve a state of koved rosh to pray the Shemoneh Esrei]? [1] R. Elazar said, “Scripture states: Bitterly dispirited, she (Hannah) [prayed to Adonai] (1 Samuel 1:10).” How do you know this? Perhaps Hannah was different in that she was very bitter at heart. [2] Rather, R. Yose the son of R. Chanina [derived it] from here: But I, through Your abundant love, enter Your house; I bow down in awe at Your holy temple (Psalm 5:8). How do we know this? Perhaps David [the presumed author of Psalm 5] is different because he tormented himself asking for mercy. [3] Rather, R. Yehoshua b. Levi said, “From here: Prostrate yourself before Adonai בְּהַדְרַת-קֹדֶשׁ in holy splendor (Psalm 29:2). Do not read בְּהַדְרַת (in splendor) but rather בְּחֶדְרַת (in trembling).” How do you know this? Perhaps I will tell you that בְּהַדְרַת (in splendor) is, in fact, meant, just as Rav Yehudah would first adorn himself (by dressing up) and afterward pray. [4] Rather, Rav Nachman bar Yitzhak said, “It derives from here: Serve Adonai with awe and rejoice with trepidation (Psalm 2:11).”

INTRODUCTION

TMT #97 examined Mishnah Berakhot 5:1, which claims that one should achieve a certain state of mind—koved rosh—for prayer. Three interpretations of koved rosh were explored in TMT-97. With TMT #98, we now turn to the Gemara’s discussion of the mishnah. The Rabbis seek the  Mishnah’s source for claiming that one must achieve a state of koved rosh to pray the Shemoneh Esrei. The amora’im (the Sages who wrote the Gemara) offer four opinions concerning what the tanna’im (the Sages during the period of the Mishnah who preceded the amora’im) meant, supporting their claims with scriptural verses. (For clarity, I have numbered the four opinions.)  The Gemara questions the legitimacy of the first three but offers no further commentary on the fourth. 

A question underlies the four opinions presented: when can the example of one individual be deemed representative of a broad principle concerning the behavior everyone should aspire to, rather than be seen as the behavior of that particular individual on that particular occasion in that particular circumstance?

COMMENTARY

Mishnah did not provide a source for its claim that one should achieve a state of koved rosh to pray the Shemoneh Esrei, which is not unusual. Gemara offers four opinions. The first is ascribed to R. Elazar. He cites the story of Hannah in First Samuel because it recounts the experience of an individual explicitly praying to God. R. Elazar understands marat nefesh (“bitterly dispirited”) to mean “in an extremely serious mood.” The Gemara challenges this suggestion, asking whether Hannah’s state of mind can serve as a general rule for all who pray, or rather pertains only to Hannah on this particular occasion, which seems a more reasonable explanation.

Next, R. Yose offers the example of King David, credited with authoring Psalm 5 (see verse 1). He understands “bow down in awe” as an expression of prayer in which the request is for mercy is central. Indeed, this is the thrust of the entirety of Psalm 5: David beseeches God to save him from his enemies because his life is endangered. The Gemara reasons that David was in a state of personal torment rather than koved rosh. Thus this example, like the first, concerns an individual’s personal state of mind and should not be generalized prescriptively to all people when they pray.

R. Yehoshua b. Levi offers a third explanation. Drawing on Psalm 29:2, he instructs us to read b’hadrat kodesh as b’chedrat kodesh, changing the letter hay (ה) to the letter chet (ח). Hay and chet are visually similar, distinguished only by a tiny stroke of ink. Read this way, R. Yehoshua instructs us to be so keenly aware of God’s power that we tremble when we pray. In other words, fear (yirat Adonai) should dominate our mental state during prayer. The Gemara counters that we could just as reasonably not exchange the hay for a chet and understand the verse to instruct us to dress up to pray (look splendid) as we would do when meeting a powerful human sovereign. Indeed, Rav Yehudah would don good clothes for prayer, his time to “talk with God.”

Fourth and last is Rav Nachman bar Yitzhak’s interpretation based on Psalm 2:11. He understands “serve” to connote prayer. He says that our attitude in prayer should combine awe, joy, and trepidation. It’s not clear if he means that one should aim for all three states of mind simultaneously, or draw on whichever emotion most honestly reflects one’s state of mind at the moment. The Gemara does not challenge his view, communicating that a spectrum of emotions are all appropriate and conducive to prayer.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Which do you think is preferable and more appropriate: (1) prescribing a specific state of mind for prayer, or (2) encouraging people to  channel their personal emotional state into prayer? What are the advantages and disadvantages to each approach in theory and for you personally?
2. Rambam (Moses Maimonides) was an advocate of strict kavanah (intention) in prayer. He counsels us to train ourselves to expel all extraneous thoughts and focus solely on the words of the prayers. (See below.) How does this strike you? What is gained? What is sacrificed?
3. What mood or state of mind do you find most conducive to prayer? What other factors (e.g., environment, music or silence, public or private) do you prefer? How do you prepare to pray?

“Turn your thoughts away from everything while you read the Shema or during the [Shemoneh Esrei] prayer… After some time when you have mastered this, accustom yourself to have your mind free from all other thoughts when you read any portion of the other books of the prophets, or when you say any blessing, and to have your attention directed exclusively to the perception and the understanding of what you utter.” (Moses Maimonides, Guide for the Perplexed III:51)

Frame of Mind — M Berakhot 5:1 (30b) — #97 (part 1)

MISHNAH: One should not rise to pray [the Shemoneh Esrei] except with an attitude of koved rosh (in a serious frame of mind). The pious ones of old would wait for an hour and then pray in order to direct their hearts toward God. Even if the king greets [one who is praying the Shemoneh Esrei], that person should not respond to him. Even if a snake curls around his heel, that person should not interrupt [recitation of the prayer].

INTRODUCTION

When the Temple stood in Jerusalem, God was worshiped by bringing a complex array of sacrifices ranging from meal offerings to incense to animals to its altar. The sacrificial cult ended in 70 C.E. with the Destruction of the Second Temple, but in its day, it afforded worshipers stunning sights of crowds, animals, and priests; sounds ranging from animals to the music of the Levites; the smell of animal flesh and blood, as well as incense; and often involved the feel and taste of the sacrifices, as well. The Book of Leviticus is devoted to detailing the many required sacrifices, the occasions on which each was to be brought to the Temple, and the precise procedures the kohanim (priests) were to follow. Other portions of the Torah focus on the sacrificial cult, as well. Torah is concerned with the state of mind of the priests offering the sacrifices, but nowhere is the  attitude or state of mind of the ordinary Israelite mentioned. Perhaps this is because the sheer drama of the sacrificial cult—involving all the physical senses—commanded one’s full attention.

In the vacuum left by the Destruction, the Rabbis determined that prayer would function as the primary mode of worship replacing communal sacrifices: Shacharit in place of the morning offering and Minchah in place of the afternoon offering. Ma’ariv, the evening prayers, were initially voluntary, but came to be considered obligatory. Prayer is an entirely different experience than offering a sacrifice. Even when performed communally, prayer is far more private, inward, and contemplative and, arguably, far more difficult. There is no show to watch, no drama unfolding. Prayer requires focus, concentration, and effort. In the mishnah above, the Rabbis discuss the desirable state of mind when engaged in prayer.

COMMENTARY

The Shemoneh Esrei, the central prayer of the Jewish prayer service, is an amalgam of numerous blessings. On weekdays, it was composed of 18 blessings (now 19)—hence the moniker Shemoneh Esrei (“eighteen”)—organized in three sections: praises, petitions, thanksgiving. It is also called the Amidah (“standing”) because it is recited while standing. 

In the mishnah above, the Sages teach that one should achieve the state of mind they term “koved rosh” to pray the Shemoneh Esrei. Koved rosh is so important that the early Sages spent an hour in meditation to achieve this frame of mind to prepare themselves to pray the Shemoneh Esrei properly. Once achieved, nothing should be permitted to interfere with one’s concentration, not even a king’s greeting or a threatening snake. These are curious examples of the extent to which one should focus on the Shemoneh Esrei. Ignoring the greeting of  a king is politically dangerous; ignoring a snake is physically dangerous. (The Rabbis likely believed that God would protect one engaged in prayer from harm.)

But what is the attitude of koved rosh, which literally means “heaviness of head,” that the Sages adjure us to acquire? Rashi (11th century, Provence) understood the term to connote a mindset of awe and reverence. According to Natan b. Yechiel (11th century, Rome) koved rosh alludes to physical posture: bowing one’s head in prayer. Menachem Mendel Schneersohn (1789–1866), the third rebbe of Chabad offered a creative interpretation based on an alternative meaning of the root kaf-bet-daled, “sweep”: one should sweep from one’s mind all extraneous and worldly thoughts in order to focus only on the meaning of the prayer.  These explanations might be viewed as differing aspects of prayer that could apply simultaneously, or as differing and incompatible understandings of prayer. (You might wish to consider how each of these three explanations of koved rosh aligns with the mishnah’s praise for lengthy preparation for prayer and instruction to ignore the dangers of both kings and snakes while reciting the Shemoneh Esrei.)

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Menachem Mendel Schneersohn’s interpretation of koved rosh, which encourages one to sweep away all extraneous thoughts and focus solely on the words of the Shemoneh Esrei, seems to contradict the generally understood purpose of prayer, which is to share with God one’s concerns and request from God what one needs. How do you suppose Schneersohn conceived of prayer? How did he understand God? Is your prayer a conversation with God or a time for meditation? How do the words in the siddur help or detract from your prayer?
2. The Talmud (BT Yebamot 105b) recounts that R. Chiyya and R. Shimon b. R. Yehudah were sitting and talking. One said, “Those who prays should direct their eyes downward [focused on the Temple]” while the other said, “Those who prayer should direct their eyes upward [toward heaven].” R. Yishmael b. R. Yose, however, said, “My father taught that when praying, we should direct our eyes downward and our hearts upward, fulfilling both requirements.” How do you understand the concerns of the first two sages? Is R. Yishmael’s father’s teaching helpful to you? 
3. There is a tension in Jewish prayer between keva (formal, fixed prayer) and kavanah (intentional, spontaneous prayer). Keva privileges formality and provides a framework, but spontaneous prayer is often the most heartfelt. Which form of prayer is most meaningful for you? Are you able to combine the two when you pray?

Matchmaker, Matchmaker — BT Sanhedrin 22a (part 3) — #96

R. Alexandri said, “For a man whose wife dies the world is darkened, as it says, The light in his tent darkens and his lamp fails him (Job 18:6).” R. Yose bar Chanina said, “His steps will be shortened, as it says, The steps of his strength will be shortened (Job 18:7).” R. Abahu said, “His advice fails, as it says, His own advice will cast him down (Job 18:7).”

Rabbah bar bar Chanah said in the name of R. Yochanan, “It is as difficult to make a match [for marriage] as the splitting of the Reed Sea, as it is said, אֱלֹהִים מוֹשִׁיב יְחִידִים בַּיְתָה מוֹצִיא אֲסִירִים בַּכּוֹשָׁרוֹת God restores the lonely (or: singles) to their homes, sets free the imprisoned, safe and sound (Psalm 68:7).” Do not read “אֲסִירִים בַּכּוֹשָׁרוֹת / sets free the imprisoned” but rather “כּאֲסִירִים בַּכּוֹשָׁרוֹת as if [God] sets free the imprisoned.” Do not read “בַּכּוֹשָׁרוֹת / safe and sound” but rather “בכי ושירות / crying and singing.”

Is this really so? Didn’t Rav Yehudah say in the name of Rav, “Forty days before the formation of an embryo, a heavenly voice announces: ‘The daughter of this one [is intended to marry] this one’?”

There is not difficulty (i.e., no contradiction between the claim of Rabbah bar bar Chanah and the claim of Rav Yehudah). This [the claim of Rav Yehudah] concerns first marriage and this [the claim of Rabbah bar bar Chanah] concerns second marriages.

INTRODUCTION

In 1611, Johannes Kepler, the astronomer who formulated the laws of planetary motion, found  himself widowed, with children, and in need of a wife. He drew up a list of eleven women and set out to interview them all, but not one passed muster. His experience inspired him to ask, “Was it Divine Providence or my own moral guilt which, for two years or longer, tore me in so many different directions and made me consider the possibility of such different unions?”

The secret of a good marriage is forgiving your partner for marrying you in the first place.

—Sacha Guitry

In a world in which one’s family chooses one’s spouse, is it more or less difficult to achieve a good and lasting marriage? One might argue that those whose partners are assigned to them have different expectations of the marital relationship, perhaps lower emotional and romantic expectations. In the world of the Rabbis, parents contracted matches for their children, but this did not prevent people from hoping for a deeply loving and satisfying relationship. Realists to the core, the Rabbis comment on just how difficult it is to achieve this goal.

COMMENTARY

The mishnah that introduces the discussion above did not concern marriage (see TMT-94), but rather the dignity of the king. The Rabbis jump immediately to the relationship between David and Avishag and from there, the heartbreak of the dissolution of a marriage through divorce or the death of a wife: above, three sages weigh in the trauma of losing a spouse: depression (his world “darkens”), physical deterioration (“the steps of his strength will be shortened”), loss of a good advisor (his source of advice fails him). Acknowledging the momentousness of the loss inspires the realization of just how remarkable a good marriage is, so much so that they attribute it to God’s intervention. But more: Rabbah bar bar Chanah  tells us that even for God, making a good match takes extraordinary effort, comparable to the parting of the Reed Sea, among the most impressive miracles recounted in the Torah. The Rabbis support this claim not by referencing Exodus 14-15, which tells the story of the splitting of the Reed Sea, but rather based on the sound of the words in a verse from Psalm 68 to make the connection between the story of God’s awesome might and intervention and God’s role in making matches. 

Rav Yehudah, however, has a tradition that God designates people to marry one another before they are even born, which undermines the claim that matchmaking is difficult. How are the competing and conflicting claims to be reconciled? By assigning them to two different situations: Making first matches—when people are young, flexible, enthusiastic, and romantic—is an easy task. Making second marriage—when people are older and more set in their ways—is far more of a feat.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Do you agree that finding a compatible mate is easier the first time one marries than the second time, or do you see it the other way around? Why?
2. Given that few young people in the ancient world chose their own spouse, and they therefore had to abide by their parents’ choice, is there an advantage to claiming that God had a hand in  making the match and, even more, put enormous effort into insuring the right match?

This mathematician’s efforts at making a match rivaled—or perhaps exceeded?—God’s! 

This guy hacked OkCupid.

https://www.wired.com/2014/01/how-to-hack-okcupid/

1. In the 1960s, mathematician Martin Gardner famously published a matching algorithm that came to be known as the “The Marriage Problem” (for matching) or the “The Secretary Problem” (for hiring), but more properly called “The Optimal Stopping Theory” (see https://projecteuclid.org/download/pdf_1/euclid.ss/1177012493). Remember Kepler’s conundrum? The algorithm says that if you have n candidates to consider, you should interview 36.8% of them (for those who like math, the precise number is 1/e) without accepting any of them, and then choose the very next candidate whose qualities exceed all the applicants interviewed thus far. (NB: The theoryWhile the theory is couched in terms of heterosexual matchings, it is equally applicable to homosexual matchings.) How much trust would be required to follow this algorithm? How is it different from trusting a matchmaker?

Heartbreak of Divorce — BT Sanhedrin 22a (part 2) — #95

Rav Shaman bar Abba said, “Come and see how difficult is divorce, for King David was permitted to seclude himself [with Avishag] but he was not permitted to divorce.” R. Eliezer said, “Whenever a man divorces his first wife, even the altar [of the Temple] sheds tears for him, as it says, And this you do, as well: You cover the altar of Adonai with tears, weeping and moaning so that [God] refuses to regard the offering any more and to accept what you offer (Malachi 2:13). And it is written, But you ask, ‘Because of what?’ Because Adonai is a witness between you and the wife of your youth with whom you have broken faith, though she is your partner and covenanted spouse (Malachi 2:14).” R. Yochanan—and some say R. Eliezer—said, “One’s wife dies only if he is unable to pay his debts, as it is said, Let your bed [i.e., wife] be taken from under you when you have no money to pay (Proverbs 22:27).” And R. Yochanan said, “Any man whose first wife dies, it is as if the Temple were destroyed in his lifetime, as it is said, O mortal, I am about to take away the delight of your eyes through pestilence, but you shall not lament or weep or let your tears flow (Ezekiel 24:16). And it is said, And I spoke to the people in the morning, and my wife died in the evening (Ezekiel 24:18). And [shortly thereafter] it is written, I am going to desecrate My Sanctuary, your pride and glory, the delight of your eyes [and the desire of the your heart]…(Ezekiel 24:21)

INTRODUCTION

In TMT #94, we noted the Rabbis’ interpretative machinations to explain King David’s relationship with Avishag, the young Shunammite woman, who was brought to “warm his bed”  toward the end of his life (1 Kings 1:1–4). Obviously, David’s relationship with Avishag raises many questions, chief among them: Was the relationship sexual? Did David marry Avishag and, if so, was the marriage consummated? The Bible confirms neither their intimacy nor whether they married, but Solomon’s response to Adonijah’s request to marry her suggests David did wed Avishag (see TMT #94 for detailed explanation). The Rabbis claim David abstained from sex with Avishag not because he was impotent (quite to the contrary!), but rather out of faithful adherence to Torah’s limitation as to how many wives a king may take. That he could have divorced one of his wives and married Avishag inspires a discussion of the heartbreak of divorce, which in turn leads to comments on the other way a first marriage might end: if the wife dies.

COMMENTARY

Rav Shaman bar Abba attempts to reconcile the Bible’s problematic assertion that David shared a bed with Avishag with the Rabbis’ assertion that David never married her, given that by divorcing one of his wives, David could have obeyed the rabbinic prohibition concerning yichud (secluding himself with a woman he is not permitted to marry, BT Kiddushin 80b). This would allow him to marry Avishag. Rav Shaman’s comment is a classic example of rabbinic spin: David already had dispensation (from whom?) to seclude himself with Avishag so he would not need to divorce one of his eighteen wives (the maximum permitted an Israelite king) in order to marry her. One might reasonably respond that with eighteen wives David hardly needed another! Why is there a need for a special dispensation? If David so desired Avishag, divorcing one of his wives was an option. To counter this response, R. Eliezer declares that divorce so saddens God that the very “altar sheds tears for him.” R. Eliezer quotes verses from Malachi to support his claim. There are several problems here, beginning with R. Eliezer’s assertion that the altar sheds tears “for him.” For him? Men had exclusive power to divorce their wives. While the ketubah offered women a measure of insurance, divorce often left them impoverished, unsupported, and socially ostracized. Why doesn’t the altar shed tears for her as well? Further, while the verses from Malachi seem to fit R. Eliezer's claim about God’s attitude toward divorce, in their biblical context they concern intermarriage—an entirely different scenario. Could R. Eliezer’s comment be construed as a   condemnation of divorce?

R. Eliezer’s comment inspires two more about another way a first marriage could end: through the death of the wife. These comments seem entirely out of place. Perhaps they are here because the first is also ascribed to R. Eliezer.  Its author finds a verse in Proverbs that supports his claim that a man’s wife dies only because he is unable to pay his debts. The claim goes unexplained and unchallenged, but one wonders if the “debt” referenced is her conjugal rights. This is followed by a comment attributed solely to R. Yochanan that a man experiences the loss of his first wife as a catastrophe comparable to the destruction of the Temple: his world crumbles. Within six verses, Ezekiel mentions “delight of your eyes,” “my wife died,” and “desecration of [God’s] Sanctuary,” which R. Yochanan weaves together to say that marriage is a peak life experience and therefore loss of a partner is a crushing experience. It would appear that the conversation has strayed from the topic of David’s relationship with Avishag to a generalized dirge on divorce.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Deuteronomy 24:1–4) permits a man to divorce his wife for any (or no) reason. Given how emotionally difficult divorce is for the couple, their families and friends, and the community, does this passage’s claim that “the altar weeps” provide comfort or impose pain for a couple undergoing a divorce? How does “the altar weeps for him” color things?
2. As noted above, R. Eliezer’s assertion that God is deeply grieved by divorce may be mentioned here to justify King David’s cohabiting with Avishag without first divorcing one of his wives and marrying her. Nonetheless, the altar analogy asserts that our sadness at divorce is matched by God’s. How might this impact peoples attitudes toward the propriety of divorce?
3. How does ascribing human feelings to God affect your own understanding of the Divine?