Should Women be Allowed to Clean for Pesach?

by Rabbi Aryeh Klapper

Pesach-cleaning is as time-sensitive a mitzvah as one can imagine. Given the standard explanations for women’s exemptions from “time-caused commandments”, one can reasonably imagine a position that exempts women from Pesach-cleaning, and perhaps even a position that sees the task as so inherently masculine that women are discouraged or forbidden from engaging in it.

There may in fact have been such a halakhic position. Until the 20^th century, however, it was based not on calling it a mitzvat aseh shehazman garma, but rather on a lack of trust. Tracing the discussion of whether such a position existed may cast interesting light on some challenging contemporary issues.[1]

On Bavli Pesachim 4b, Rav Nachman bar Yitzchak quotes a beraita:

All are believed regarding the elimination of chametz

even women, even slaves, even minors

After some back and forth, the Talmud concludes that the beraita is dealing with a case where the woman/slave/minor claims to have done inspection/bedikat chametz on the house themselves. But why isn’t it obvious that we believe them?

What would I have thought?

Let the rabbis not believe them.

So the beraita teaches us:

Since bedikat chametz is rabbinic,

as Biblically it is sufficient to merely annul (the chametz) verbally –

the rabbis believed him about a rabbinic matter.

In other words: since bedikat chametz serves the Biblical legal task of ensuring that we don’t possess chametz on Pesach, and we don’t generally believe women/slave/minors about Biblical matters, we would have thought to not believe them here. However, because inspection is not necessary for the Biblical task, which can be accomplished as well by nullification/bittul, we choose to believe them.

Most rishonim are unwilling to accept the implication that women are not believed about matters of Biblical law. Their standard interpretive strategy is to read the Talmud’s discussion as relating only to slaves and minors. In that case, why it is necessary for the beraita to state that woman are believed? Because bedikat chametz is uniquely tiresome and detail-oriented, and we might have thought that women have no patience for such tasks! We conclude that they are nonetheless believed.

The idea that bedikat chametz is exceptional seems indicated by the phrase “Let the rabbis not believe them”, which implies that this is a matter of rabbinic discretion rather than Biblical law. However, five of the eight manuscripts transcribed by the Friedberg Genizah Project lack the word רבנן and therefore lack this implication.

If bedikat chametz is not exceptional, it remains possible that women are not believed about other Biblical matters, especially those requiring tiresome work. Some rishonim take this position, although standard halakhah rejects it. I venture to say that a hallmark of genuine Modern Orthodox halakhic thinking is assigning this position the role of Beit Shammai in the place of Beit Hillel, meaning that it has no halakhic force at all.

The same beraita is cited in Yerushalmi Pesachim 1:1. The standard printed editions, which are accurately copied from the Leiden Manuscript, read:

All are believed regarding the elimination of chametz, 

even women and even slaves.

Rabbi Yirmiyah (said) in the name of Rabbi Zeira: 

Strike “even women” from here.
Women atzman are believed 

because they are atzilot 

and they inspect kol shehu kol shehu.

הכל נאמנין על ביעור חמץ,

אפי’ נשים אפי’ עבדים.

ר’ ירמיה בשם ר’ זעירה

לית כאן אפי’ נשים

נשים עצמן הן נאמנות

מפני שהן עצילות

והן בודקות כל שהוא כל שהוא.

As is often the case with the Yerushalmi, the text is difficult to read, and many emendations have been proposed.

The opening statement is clear that women are believed regarding chametz elimination. However, Rabbi Yirmiyah states that one should remove “even women” from the text, implying that women aren’t believed. The problem is that the following line reads “Women atzman are believed”! But the problem with that line is that “atzilot” is generally translated “lazy”, and “because they are lazy” does not sound like a reason to believe them.

Tosafot Eruvin 29a reads:

The Yerushalmi also implies

the existence of a position holding that women are not believed regarding bedikat chametz

because they are atzilot and they inspect kol shehu

וכן משמע בירושלמי

דאיכא מ”ד דנשים אינן נאמנות בבדיקת חמץ

מפני שהן עצילות ובודקות כל שהוא

Tosafot’s text of the Yerushalmi seems to have been אין נאמנות rather than הן נאמנות. In other words, Rabbi Yirmiyah removes women from the beraita and then explains at length why they are not believed.

However, many acharonim, perhaps first among them the 19^th century R. David Frankel in his Rashi-style commentary Korban haEdah, read Rav Yirmiyah in exactly the opposite direction, and deny Tosafot’s claim that any such position ever existed. Whoever cited the beraita held that in principle women should be less credible than men regarding the elimination of chametz, but nonetheless even women are believed. By contrast, Rabbi Yirmiyah held that the words “even women” should be struck from the beraita because there is no reasonable distinction to make here between men and women, and he continues that “Women atzman (=intrinsically) are believed. The Yerushalmi’s editor then backtracks to explain the position in the original text that read “even women”:  Women are lazy, and they do merely perfunctory inspections for chametz.

Rabbi Frankel’s attributes this reading to Rabbeinu Nissim Girondi. I accept this, with the caveat that Rabbeinu Nissim takes the beraita’s position to be that women are believed only because the obligation is Rabbinic.

Alei Tamar (Rabbi Yissachar Tamar, 1896-1982) grounds the disagreement in a different text.  The anonymous first position in Avot d’Rabbi Natan (B) 45 holds that the trait of atzlaniyot, or laziness, is found more in women than in men. Rabbi Yose, however, holds there that the trait is found equally in men and women. The beraita in the Yerushalmi follows the first position, while Rabbi Yirmiyah follows Rabbi Yose. 

Alei Tamar also notes that some rishonim had a Yerushalmi text with the lines in a different order than ours. Here for example is Maharam Halawa[2]:

לית כאן נשים,

מפני שהנשים עצלניות הן והן בודקות כל שהן

Remove “women” from here,

because they are atzlaniyot and inspect kol shehu

Rabbi Tamar suggests that his version had the line “(But) woman atzman are believed!?” immediately following the beraita, as an attack that motivated Rabbi Yirmiyah’s emendation.

Rabbi Chaim David Halevi, late 20^th Century Sefardi Rav of Tel Aviv, in Shu”T Mayim Chayyim 1:28, refused to countenance any suggestion that women are less diligent than men about any mitzvot, let alone about chametz.  Women are of course as or more diligent than men about mitzvot. The only reason that they would not be believed is specific to chametz – because they have been so involved in preparing the house, they can’t believe there is any chametz left.  So the final inspection is perhaps best done by men, since they will not be embarrassed if they find anything.

Rabbi HaLevi then points out that there is an entirely different stream of interpretation that for some reason escaped the notice of the standard commentators on the Yerushalmi.  The clearest exemplar is the 13^th century Rabbi Menachem haMeiri, who writes:

ובתלמוד המערב אמרו על סוגיא זאת “לית כאן נשים”
כלומר לא הוצרכו להכשיר בדיקתן מטעם זה
שמתוך שהן עצלניות בודקות כל שהן
ר”ל עושות מלאכתן במיתון ואינן טרודות בעסקים אחרים
ובודקות כל שהן –
רוצה לומר בכל כוחן יפה יפה
על דרך שאמרו גם כן: למה לאור הנר? מפני שהוא בודק כל שהוא
ויש מפרשים אותו בהיפך, ואין דבריהן כלום

In the Yerushalmi they say regarding this “Erase ‘women’ from here” –

*meaning that one can believe women even if the search is Biblically required 

because since they are atzlaniyot they inspect kol shehein 

meaning that they do their task patiently and are not distracted by other matters 

and they inspect kol shehein 

meaning with all their strength, extremely well 

in the same manner that they said: Why by lamp light? Because it inspects kol shehu. 

Some interpret it as saying the reverse, but their words have no value.

Meiri’s position seems much more in accord with the contemporary iconography of women cleaning far beyond the demands of the halakhah (although certainly not beyond the dreams of all contemporary halakhists). This reading, as noted earlier by Ahavat Tziyon V’Yerushalayim (R. Ber Ratner, 1852-1917), is also taken by Rabbeinu Manoach in Hilkhot Chametz u’Matza, 2:17 (and possibly by several of the school of Ramban).

Rabbi Yerucham Fishel Perlow (1846-1934), however, brings us back to this essay’s opening. Rabbi Perlow contends that all previous explanations of why the Yerushalmi and the Bavli consider differentiating credibility by gender with regard to chametz were forced and implausible.  The only explanation he finds attractive – one he attributes rather speculatively to Saadia Gaon and the Tur – is that eliminating chametz is considered a positive commandment of tashbisu, and that positive commandment is time-sensitive, and therefore women are exempt from it. 

Every step of R. Perlow’s explanation can of course be challenged.

One important takeaway from this intellectual history is that even the most sanctified contemporary religious sociology may not have deep or secure roots, especially in the area of gender.  Woman as Pesach-cleaning sorcerers’ apprentices is a pet meme of contemporary rabbis, who then style themselves as chivalric heroes writing to the halakhic rescue. But fine scholars have maintained that women are temperamentally unsuited to the task, or else that it simply is masculine religious work.

A question to ponder is the relationship between Talmud Torah and experience. How strong an intellectual or halakhic bias should we have toward interpretations and positions that comport with our sense of the world, even if they don’t comport as well with our understanding of texts?

Chag kasher vesameiach!

---

[1] This essay, to this point, is taken from one I published on my Times of Israel blog on March 29, 2018. The last paragraph will also come from there. However, the original version is based almost entirely on acharonim’s analysis of a passage from Talmud Yerushalmi, whereas this version roots several of those readings in rishonim. Comparing the two may also cast light on some of the challenges of studying Yerushalmi.

[2] cf. Tosafot above

That Which You Must Fear

by Rabbi Aryeh Klapper

Toward the end of Johnny Carson’s reign as host of the Tonight Show, the jokes in his opening monologue almost always fell flat. People still watched, because his self-deprecating recoveries were funny! Could he have skipped the jokes and made an entire show of recoveries? I doubt that would have worked. Nonetheless, this week’s essay is just the recovery from a series of failed parshah-related divrei Torah.

Shimon HaAmsuni (but some say: Nechemyah HaAmsuni) would interpret (be doresh) all the ets in the Torah.

When he reached et Hashem your G-d you must fear (Devarim 6:13), he stepped away (=was poresh).

His students said to him: Rebbe, all the ets that you have been doresh, what is to become of them?

He said to them: Just like I received reward for the derishah, I will receive reward for the perishah.

Until Rabbi Akiva came and interpreted: et Hashem your G-d you must fear – to include Torah scholars.

The Babylonian Talmud cites the story of Shimon HaAmsuni in two contexts (one context makes three appearances, so four citations total). On Pesachim 22b, Kiddushin 57a, and Bava Kamma 41b, the Talmud deduces that a tanna derives the consensus prohibition against benefiting from the skin of an executed bull from the phrase “et its meat”in Exodus 28:28. Other tannas derive that prohibition from other aspects of the text; what meaning do they assign to et? None at all – they are not doresh it, as per Shimon HaAmsuni. Similarly, on Bekhorot 6b, the Talmud deduces that Rabbi Shimon derives the consensus position that camel milk is not kosher from “et the camel” (I’m not sure whether from Vayikra 11:4 or Devarim 14:7), whereas the rabbis who derive that prohibition from a different textual feature are not doresh the et.

The word et grammatically indicates that the subsequent noun is the object rather than the subject of the relevant verb. Why was Shimon HaAmsuni unable to interpret the et in Devarim 6:13? We can’t know for certain, as no other interpretations of et are cited in his name (in fact, this story may be the only record we have of him at all, and this record is unsure of his name). But the Talmudic passages above suggest that he consistently used et in halakhic contexts lerabot, to include, as if it meant “with”, extending the verb to a noun other than its object. Shimon HaAmsuni was unwilling to say that the Torah commands fearing anything together with Hashem your G-d.

Rashi to Pesachim 22b contends that Shimon HaAmsuni withdrew all his previous interpretations when confronted with Devarim 6:13. (see also Rabbeinu Gershom to Bekhorot 6b).

(This tanna) was not doresh the word et as an inclusion, because he held like Shimon HaAmsuni, who explained all the ets in the Torah as inclusions, but when he reached et Hashem your G-d you must fear, he said: “What will I include to fear alongside Him?” So he was poresh from them all, and withdrew all the prior inclusions that he had been doresh, because since this one did not come to include – none of them came to include.

Rashi seems correct based on the Talmudic passages above, which identify positions that refuse to use other ets as inclusions with Shimon HaAmsuni. Similarly, R. Avraham ben HaRambam (Responsum 82) cites Shimon HaAmsuni as a role model for his willingness to admit error and recant.

Tosafot (Menachot 11b) notes, however, that on Sotah 17a, the Talmud explains that a dispute between Rabbi Yosay and Rabbi Meir comes down to the question of whether one is doresh an et, and says the same on Menachot 11b about a dispute between Rabbi Yehudah and Rabbi Shimon, and that Shimon HaAmsuni is not cited in those contexts! Furthermore, they bring evidence that Rabbi Shimon was doresh some ets but not others! It seems that Tosafot saw Shimon HaAmsuni’s full-scale retreat as unnecessary.

Or, perhaps Tosafot thought that Shimon HaAmsuni regarded et in Devarim 6:13 as an absolute disproof not because he couldn’t explain it, but because he was unwilling to accept any explanation. What Rabbi Akiva brought to the table was not imagination but rather theological chutzpah – he was willing to offer an explanation that Shimon HaAmsuni found religiously intolerable.

Chatam Sofer (Pesachim 22b) takes Tosafot a step further by suggesting that Shimon HaAmsuni agreed with Rabbi Akiva substantively but was unwilling to make the interpretation public; he “stepped away” voluntarily. This however does not square with the Talmud’s presenting him as relevant to positions that refuse to read et as an inclusion in other contexts.

Regardless, Chatam Sofer’s suggestion points up another peculiarity of the Talmud’s usage. The simple reading of the story is that Rabbi Akiva’s derashah disproves the disproof, so that all previous derashot of et as inclusions are rehabilitated. Yet the Talmud declares that some of Rabbi Akiva’s students (Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Meir) aligned with Shimon HaAmsuni and refused to use ets as inclusions!

There is another way to understand the story. Perhaps Shimon HaAmsuni retracted nothing; instead, he declared that “consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds”. Alternatively, he accepted the value of consistency but rejected the notion that his theory was wrong because he couldn’t YET explain everything. Or, he did not allow a desire for consistency to force him to accept the best available explanation – he was willing to hold out for something better, even if leaving a gap meanwhile seemed to weaken his overall theory of interpretation.

I will add that Shimon HaAmsuni had an ear for language and a sense of humor. His reply to his students rhymes memorably while subtly punning – the root p-r-sh also means to interpret. This pun was honored by Rabbi Yehoshua Falk (1555-1614), who named components of his commentaries on the Tur “Derishah” and “Perishah” respectively. Possibly Rabbi Falk also meant to convey that Shimon HaAmsuni’s “stepping away” did not reflect actual disengagement.

Many, many commentators wonder why Shimon HaAmsuni did not simply plug in to Devarim 6:13 whatever he thought was included by the et in the second verse of the Shema: “You must love et Hashem your G-d”. The geonic work Kallah Rabbati (3:13) has just such an inclusion:

as Scripture writes: You must love et Hashem your G-d –

et comes to include the Torah.

Perhaps Shimon haAmsuni thought that one can love a text but not fear it. But yir’ah of course can mean awe rather than fear, and one can certainly be in awe of a text.

The Yerushalmi (Berakhot 9:5, Sotah 9:5) introduces its HaAmsuni story immediately following its report of Rabbi Akiva’s martryrdom, which centers on his happiness at fulfilling “You must love Hashem your G-d”.

נחמיה עמסוני שימש את רבי עקיבה עשרים ושתים שנה.

הוא היה אומר: “אתים גמין – ריבויין; אכין ורקין – מיעוטין”.

אמר ליה: מהו דין דכתיב את יי אלהיך תירא וגו’?!

אמר ליה: אותו ואת תורתו:

Nechemyah HaAmsuni discipled under (shimesh et) Rabbi Akiva for twenty two years.

He (Rabbi Akiva) would say: “ets and gams are inclusions; akhs and raks are exclusions”.

He said to him: “What is the meaning of et Hashem your G-d you must fear”?

He said to him: “Him and His Torah”.

The Yerushalmi’s version (similar to Kallah Rabbati) seems to have et including the Torah itself rather than its expositors. Moreover, it has no element of withdrawal of recantation at all. Rabbi Akiva was the one who first utilized ets as inclusions, and Nechemyah HaAmsuni raised the challenge from Devarim 6:13. In the Bavli, Shimon haAmsuni seems to be the teacher, and Rabbi Akiva the student who eventually rescues his work; in the Yerushalmi, Rabbi Akiva is the teacher, Nechemyah HaAmsuni is the student, and Rabbi Akiva is simply answering a question.

And yet – why does it take twenty two years for Nechemyah HaAmsuni to ask this question? Perhaps he had too much yir’ah for Rabbi Akiva. Perhaps people who naturally fear their teachers should be the most resistant to believing that this is a mitzvah, and certainly to believing that this is a mitzvah comparable to the mitzvah of fearing G-d.

It’s not clear how the Bavli and Yerushalmi stories relate. Alei Tamar tries to reconcile them; I assume that academic Talmudists see them as alternatives; and I’m tempted to read them as consecutive. Perhaps Shimon HaAmsuni’s son Nechemyah apprenticed himself to the man who endorsed his father’s abandoned lifework, but took twenty-two years to work up the courage to ask how he dealt with the question that had crushed his father. Maybe Rabbi Akiva gave the son a different answer than he would later teach publicly, because the son knew that his father had rejected that answer.

From a halakhic perspective, Rabbi Akiva’s answer in the Bavli has certainly triumphed; and yet I think it is still worth thinking about why Shimon HaAmsuni refused to consider it. To some extent, yir’ah of Torah entails yir’ah of Torah scholars; and yet there are certainly times when yir’ah for Torah scholars leads us to have insufficient reverence for the text itself, and for the will of G-d. 

Tolerating Contradiction

by Rabbi Aryeh Klapper

Yechezkel 45:20 (in the haftorah for Shabbat Hachodesh) seems to report a sacrifice that is not mentioned anywhere in the Torah. 45:18 reported the sacrifice of a bull as a chatat on the first day of Nissan. 45:20 reads:

וְכֵ֤ן תַּֽעֲשֶׂה֙ 

בְּשִׁבְעָ֣ה 

בַחֹ֔דֶשׁ 

מֵאִ֥ישׁ שֹׁגֶ֖ה וּמִפֶּ֑תִי 

וְכִפַּרְתֶּם אֶת־הַבָּֽיִת׃

And so you must do

on the seventh (b’shiv’ah

of the month (bachodesh)

from a man who is shogeh (accidental) or peti (seduced)

and you will cleanse/atone the Temple.

Most pshat-commentators explain this as referring to a special inauguration sacrifice for the Third Temple. They vary only in details – for example Rashi understands the sacrifice as taking place on each of the first seven days of Nissan, whereas Abravanel has it only on the first and seventh days. However, they are also all aware that Talmud Menachot 45a records a radically different approach in which the relevant sacrifice is the par he’elem davar shel tzibbur, brought when a Great Sanhedrin makes a legal error that causes the nation to sin.

אמר ר’ יוחנן:

אלו שבעה שבטים שחטאו ואף על פי שאין רובה של קהל.

חודש – אם חדשו ואמרו חלב מותר.

מאיש שוגה ומפתי מלמד

שאין חייבין אלא על העלם דבר עם שגגת מעשה.

Said Rabbi Yochanan:

(b’shiv’ah) refers to seven tribes that sinned, even though they did not constitute a majority of the kahal

(ba)chodesh means if they creatively said that a forbidden type of fat was permitted

From a man who is shogeh or peti

teaches that they are liable only for a forgetting of law that leads to an accidental action.  

This reading is a wild stretch by any standard. It is immediately followed by the following report, also cited on Shabbat 13b and Chagigah 13a:

Said Rav Yehudah said Rav:

Assuredly, that man is remembered for good – Chananiah son of Chizkiyah by name,

as if not for him – the book of Yechezkel would be sequestered/nignaz,

because its words contradicted words of Torah.

What did he do?

They brought up to him 300 bottles of oil, and he sat in the attic, and interpreted them.

Rashi to Shabbat 13b makes the connection explicit: 45:20 is one of the ways in which “its words contradicted words of Torah”, because “where is this sacrifice mentioned in the Torah?!” It seemingly follows that the Talmud’s reading of that verse is one of the solutions developed by Chananiah son of Chizkiyah. However, Radak to Yechezkel denies this:

ומה שדרש חנניא על זה – לא נמצא היום אצלינו.

What Chananiah interpreted regarding this – is not found with us today.

If Yechezkel was left in circulation only because of Chananiah’s interpretations, and his interpretations are lost, should we remove Yechezkel from our Tanakhs? We have to admit that the Talmud’s substitute interpretation on this question is far from convincing.

Rav Elyashiv took the opposite approach: why should apparent contradictions ever have been sufficient to cause the book to be sequestered?

certainly Yechezkel was established and known to them as a true prophet,

meaning that all his words came from the ‘mouth’ of The Holy Blessed One,

and therefore there could not actually be any contradiction between his words and words of Torah;

therefore, even though we don’t know how the words are reconciled, why sequester them?

Furthermore,

  the implication is that they came to sequester the entire book,

but most of the book’s words do not contradict the words of Torah (even apparently),

so why would they want to sequester it (entirely)?

The explanation is,

that even though it’s obvious to us

 that everything in the book is founded on and can be understood in accordance with Truth,

 nonetheless, since we don’t understand them in depth, and we think that it contradicts words of Torah,

we will come to be tripped up, because we will behave against the words of Torah,

and this is a reason to completely sequester it, and not to leave over and sustain it in part,

because this is impossible,

since it is a unified book and people will come to trip up in the matters that contradict.

Since his concern is purely practical – we will do the wrong thing – perhaps Yechezkel survived because the contradictions that require extraordinary solutions relate to sacrifices, and Chananiah’s solutions were forgotten only after the Destruction of the Temple.

Iyyun Yaakov (by Rabbi Yaakov Reischer, 1670-1733, author of Responsa Shevut Yaakov) to Shabbat 13a matter-of-factly states that

From here we learn that a book in which is found improper things that contradict words of Torah –

that it is appropriate to sequester the entire book

even though there are also found in it matters that are correct and proper to wisdom-finders,

and even though the author is an established prophet . . .

However, he continues,

we must be very patient in such matters before sequestering,

as perhaps our limitations have prevented us from understanding the matter correctly.

That’s why great authors have the practice of writing about their predecessors’ words

“I have not descended to the end of his mind”

and other phrases of humility . . .

Rabbi Reischer apparently understands the Sages to have genuinely worried that Yechezkel contradicted Torah. Once a solution was found, the book is validated, and it is irrelevant whether we still have access to the solution.

How could the Sages have believed that Yechezkel contradicted Torah? The most radical answer is given by the (misattributed) Chiddushei HaRan to Shabbat 13a. Bava Batra 14b attributes the Book of Yechezkel to “King Chizkiyah and his followers”, rather than to Yechezkel himself, so contradictions raised questions about the accuracy with which they had transcribed his words.

An opposite approach denies that sequestration was every genuinely considered. Rather, the Talmud’s report is hyperbolic. For example, Rabbi Yisrael Ariel in Sanhedrin HaGedolah argues that the Talmud deliberately exaggerates the significance of Chananiah son of Chizkiyah:

It is therefore clear that the language “were it not for him” is not precise and was said hyperbolically

to add praise to the man

but the Sages would not have sequestered Yechezkel

rather they would have found another sage to interpret it.

Benayahu ben Yehoyada downplays Chananiah ben Chizkiyah’s contribution in a different way. He argues that the Talmud gives several examples of resolutions to the conflicts between Yechezkel and Torah, and they seem intellectually pedestrian. Rather, Chananiah was uniquely motivated to address the issues because his soul was a spark of, or was otherwise connected to, Yechezkel. The rather shocking implication is that Yechezkel would have been sequestered because no one other than Chananiah thought it worth the effort to reconcile it with Torah, even though everyone knew it could be done. 300 bottles of oil suggests a lot of work, but still …

Chagigah 13a records a second charge against the Book of Yechezkel, also successfully parried by Chananiah son of Chizkiyah:

A beraita:

An actual event

in which a young child was reading the Book of Yechezkel in his teacher’s house,

and he was understanding the chashmal,

and fire emerged from the chashmal and burnt him up,

and they sought to sequester the Book of Yechezkel.

Chananiah son of Chizkiyah said to them:

If this one is a chakham – are they all chakhamim?!

The second charge seems to make Yechezkel holy-but-dangerous rather than insufficiently holy.

It makes sense to restrict access to books that are dangerous to children. In fact, Chananiah ben Chizkiyah’s response to this charge is difficult; why is leaving Yechezkel in Tanakh worth risking the lives of precocious children? (Divrei Yetziv CM 47 assures us that the burnt-up child was uniquely talented in his generation, which seems faint comfort.)

However, the language “they sought to sequester the Book of” is also used on Shabbat 30b regarding Kohelet and Mishlei. No one there suggests that the books were too holy; rather, the problem was that they seemed self-contradictory. In addition, Vayikra Rabba 28 charges that Kohelet makes statements that “had a tendency toward minnut/?heresy?”. So the challenge to Yechezkel was more likely also rooted in a rabbinic cancel culture. What do we learn from the attempts?

It’s tempting to suggest that the key lesson is that they all failed. But that may be circular – maybe we only know about the efforts that failed, whereas the books that were successfully sequestered are lost.

Nonetheless, Shabbat 30b’s discussion of Mishlei provides strong support for Rabbi Reischer’s understanding of these episodes as cautionary. The rabbis responded to the charge against Kohelet by developing ways to reconcile the apparent contradictions. When it came to Mishlei, they merely said:

The Book of Kohelet, didn’t we investigate and find a rationale?

Here too, let us investigate …

The Rabbis learned from the experience of Kohelet that such efforts were wrongheaded from the beginning. Faced with serious Torah that also seems highly problematic, our first reaction should be to assume that the flaw is in our understanding.

But I want to tentatively go one step further. Radak teaches that we can live with contradictions so long as we know that someone we have confidence in resolved them. This was the argument Rav Aharon Lichtenstein made about Amalek: If Rav Chaim Brisker could commit to a halakhah that contained something so apparently harsh, there must be some way to reconcile it with the Torah’s principles of mercy and peace. That sort of spiritual greatness is extraordinarily rare, and investing so heavily in any individual is dangerous. Nonetheless, some of us – I include myself – related to Rav Lichtenstein in much the same way. But maybe when ordinary Jews – especially lots of ordinary Jews – whom we regard as genuinely G-d-fearing and halakhically committed adopt positions that seem to us incoherent or incompatible with G-dfearingness or halakhic commitment, we ought to be very, very patient before reading them out of the community, and yet without ignoring the contradictions.   

When the Law and the Good Diverge

by Rabbi Aryeh Klapper

“Sir”, the policewoman said, “Do you know how fast you were driving?”

“Officer”, Aharon gasped. “My wife is about to give birth!“

“Follow me!” the policeman immediately replied. Running back to her car, she turned on its blue lights and siren and sped off. Aharon followed her through a red light and . . .

The laws of Aharon’s state prescribe a fine of $250 for violations of the law against driving through a red light. The question next day in Aharon’s debate midrash class is whether he was liable for the fine.

Everyone agrees that Aharon acted properly in going through the light; the question is only whether he nonetheless owed the fine.

What does the issue depend on?

Whether the fee is intended as an atonement or rather as a deterrent.

If as an atonement – he did the correct thing;

if as a deterrent – he must pay, so he won’t do it again.

But we want him to do it again, if the same circumstances arise!

As Rav Huna said (cf. Yoma 86b): Once a person has broken a law twice, even if they were right in doing so, it becomes to them as if it were permitted.

With regard to secular law, everyone understands that there is a gap between what is good and what is legal, because the law is made by fallible human beings. What the above vignette tries to show is that legislator fallibility is not the only reason for gaps between the law and the good – sometimes the good requires outlawing the good.

With this idea in mind, we can approach the Talmud’s fascinating discussion of Aharon’s behavior in the Golden Calf episode. The sugya (Sanhedrin 6a-7a) begins from a beraita on the subject of judicially encouraged or imposed compromise verdicts in monetary cases.

A beraita:

Once a verdict has been reached – you (judges) are forbidden to compromise.

Rabbi Eliezer son of Rabbi Yosay the Galilean says:

It is forbidden (for judges) to compromise;

any (judge) who compromises – is a sinner;

and anyone who blesses the compromiser – is a despiser;

and regarding this it is said:

who blessed a compromiser despises Hashem;

rather,

let the law pierce the mountain,

as Scripture says:

for the justice-of-law is for Elo?im.

The anonymous first position encourages compromise until it’s clear what the legal verdict would be. Rabbi Eliezer son of Rabbi Yosay the Galilean, however, sees compromise as a distortion of justice. The beraita then seemingly analogizes the two positions to those of Mosheh and his brother Aharon.

So too, Mosheh would say:

‘Let the law pierce the mountain!’,

but Aharon –

he loved peace and pursued peace, and established peace among people,

as Scripture says:

The Torah of truth was in his mouth, and no crookedness was found on his lips;

he walked in peace straightforwardly, and returned many from sin.

Rabbi Eliezer aligns well with Mosheh, while the anonymous position presumably follows in the footsteps of Aharon (although the fit with the first part of the verse is awkward, especially if one plugs in narratives about Aharon’s good-natured but somewhat deceptive tactics for reconciling estranged friends).

The next section asserts that one or both of the positions in the beraita used a verse in a way that disagrees with another text.

This disagrees with Rabbi Tanchum son of Chanilai,

for Rabbi Tanchum son of Chanilai said:

This verse was said specifically about the episode of the Calf,

as Scripture says:

Aharon saw, and vayiven mizbeach lefanav = he built an altar in front of it –

What did he see?

Said Rabbi Binyamin bar Yefet said Rabbi Elazar:

He saw Chur slaughtered-like-a-sacrifice in front of it.

He said:

If I don’t heed them –

they will do to me as they did to Chur,

and there will be fulfilled through me if there be killed in the sanctuary of the L-rd a priest and prophet, for which they could never make reparation;

Better that they make the Calf,

for which they can make reparation via repentance.

Which precious position disagrees with Rabbi Tanchum son of Chanilai’s interpretation of which verse?

Rashi comments:

“This verse”

= who blesses the compromiser;

“was said specifically about the episode of the Calf”

= that Aharon made a compromise with himself,

and ruled permissively for himself to make the Calf for them;

“vayiven mizevach” –

He understood from the one slaughtered-like-a-sacrifice in front of it,

(meaning that) they had killed Chur for not making (the Calf or an equivalent) for them.

As I understand Rashi, Rabbi Tanchum ben Chanilai is in favor of Aharon’s compromising ways in court, when trying to bring litigation to a peaceful settlement; but Aharon went too far when he “compromised” on the law and allowed himself to make the Calf. He may also intend that Aharon tried to find a way to satisfy both the community’s perceived religious needs and G-d’s law and “compromised” between them.  

The supercommentaries on Rashi wonder: What was Aharon thinking? If the Calf was an idol, then making it was a prohibition of avodah zarah that he should have died rather than transgress! They give various  technical answers to avoid making the Calf an actual idol, at least before it was worshiped.

But I wonder if Rashi isn’t saying something simpler. Aharon was not trying to save his own life, but that of the entire nation. Talmud Nazir 23b understands Yael as a Jewess who committed adultery with Sisera in order to save the Jewish people, and praises her action as an aveiroh lishmoh = a transgression for the sake of Heaven. Maybe one can commit idolatry for that purpose as well? Aharon thought so; Rabbi Tanchum bar Chanilai holds that Aharon was very wrong.

Tosafot, however, understands Rabbi Tanchum bar Chanilai to be referring to the verse from Malakhi:

The Torah of truth was in his mouth, and no crookedness was found on his lips;

he walked in peace straightforwardly, and returned many from sin.

Aharon’s spiritual self-sacrifice in surrendering to the people’s demands returned many from sin = enabled the Jewish nation to have the possibility of repentance. (Granting that Tosafot’s reading is an even more awkward fit with the beginning of the verse than the beraita’s. Whatever Aharon did, it seems unlikely to have involved a straightforward, honest public statement of the law about making and worshiping images.)

Ralbag in his Commentary on Chumash doubles down on a version of Tosafot’s understanding of Aharon. Aharon hoped that Mosheh would return before the Calf was finished, or to have endless preparations before any actual worship took place. But the Jews began worshipping it the moment it was completed.

When Aharon saw the evil in their hearts,

he tried to delay them further, and began a new work, namely the building of an altar before it.

He entrenched in their hearts that it was appropriate for all this work to be done by him personally,

because of its great and exalted nature.

Because he made himself a priest to idolatry for the honor of Hashem the exalted,

so that Israel would not stray from after him –

Hashem the exalted gave his reward

and made him priest before Him, he and his descendants.

The word עגל, “(male) calf”, appears in Chumash only regarding the Golden Calf and the sacrifices of both Aharon and the people at his inauguration as High Priest (Vayikra 9:2-8). Ralbag there acknowledges that the sacrifices atone for the Calf. But why does Aharon need atonement if he did the right thing, and was in fact became High Priest in reward for his actions?

I suggest that there is a class of actions that are right but not replicable – they can only be right once. Those sorts of actions by definition cannot be halakhah/law. And when they happen, it’s vital that we keep all the legal consequences the same as when they are wrong, to avoid creating the impression that they should be imitated. This is a possible understanding of “transgressions for the sake of Heaven”, and it is why Aharon had to sacrifice a calf at his inauguration. Conversely, it may be that Eliyahu’s failure to ever publicly atone for sacrificing at Har Karmel, outside the Temple, is what made it impossible for future kings to eliminate the sacrificial bamot.

There may also be a category of replicable breaches of the law. This would include Rabbinic “horaot shaah”, such as the permission to write down Oral Torah, as opposed to Eliyahu’s prophetic model. In such cases a deterrent would be counterproductive, and yet there remains a need to remember that the good has diverged from the law, unless the horaat shaah is a disguised admission that the law was wrongly decided to begin with, or too broadly formulated. I have my doubts whether in the Messianic Age scholars will memorize the contents of the Bar Ilan Responsa Project – perhaps instead we’ll decide that electronic storage and display count as “oral”, and work something out for learning on Shabbat.

I’m interested in examples of Rabbinic horaot shaah in the modern world, and whether the communities that accepted them have tended to maintain the distinction between the immediate good and the eternal law. And as a thought experiment: In a halakhic state, how would you formulate the law about driving through red lights?

Purim and the Ways of Peace

by Rabbi Aryeh Klapper

Yerushalmi Megillah 1:4 writes, in both the Venice and Vilna editions:

אין מדקדקין במצות פורים,

אלא כל מי שהוא פושט את ידו ליטול – נותנין לו

We are not particular about the mitzvah(s) of Purim,

rather everyone who sticks out their hand to take – we give him.

The צ in מצות is presumably a typo – the word is cited as מעות, monies, in all texts that have sources independent of the printed Yerushalmi. But it may be a Freudian slip.

Charity disbursers generally have an obligation of due diligence, and the mitzvah of tzedokoh is fulfilled only when the recipients are eligibly poor. Purim money should apparently be given without the same diligence. Is the mitzvah of matanot la’evyonim fulfilled even when money is given to frauds? If so, does that money also fulfill the mitzvah of tzedokoh?

This may be a halakhic reflection of Purim as a day on which distinctions are eroded. But we need to determine whether the Freudian slip reveals the superego or rather the id.

Tur (OC 694) explains “not particular” as “nonparticularistic” –

אלא כל מי שפושט ידו ליטול – נותנין לו,

אחד ישראל ואחד עו”ג

rather, everyone who sticks out their hand to take – we give him,

Jew and nonJew alike

The standard 18^th century commentary Korban HaEidah reads Tur into the Yerushalmi – “even nonJews” – and makes no mention of frauds. So Tur may hold that we check for frauds even on Purim. Some distinctions still matter, and some don’t. We need to make distinctions among distinctions.

By contrast, the 20^th century commentary Alei Tamar contends that Tur agrees that the Yerushalmi is discussing frauds. Tur’s comment about nonJews is an aside reflecting a later development.

Alei Tamar actually introduces a new distinction. Purim money should be distributed without checking for frauds or for Jewishness. However, while the money given to frauds fulfills the mitzvah, the money given to nonJews does not.

Alei Tamar is following Beit Yosef, who cites Nimukei Yosef citing Ramban as the source for Tur.

כן כתב נמוקי יוסף בפרק האומנין (מח: ד”ה גמ’) בשם הרמב”ן,

שכן המנהג בכל ישראל ליתן אפילו לגוי,

דהואיל ואין מדקדקין בדבר ונותנים לכל –

אם אין אנו נותנים לגוי, איכא משום איבה,

ותניא (גיטין סא.):

מפרנסין עניי גוים עם עניי ישראל מפני דרכי שלום. עכ”ל.

So wrote Nimukei Yosef (on RIF, Berakhot 48b) in the name of Ramban

that this is the practice throughout Israel, to give even to a nonJew

as since we are not particular about the matter and give to all –

if we don’t give to a nonJew, there would be eivah (intense ill-will),

and we learn in a beraita (Gittin 61a):

We support poor nonJews together with poor Jews because of the ways of peace.

Nimukei Yosef presents giving to nonJews as a necessary consequence of giving indiscriminately to Jews rather than as part of the underlying mitzvah. NonJews are included only to prevent them from bearing us ill will.

Ritva, however, offers an understanding of Ramban that apparently includes giving to nonJews as part of the mitzvah.

בירושלמי בפרק קמא דמגילה אמרינן

אין מדקדקין במעות פורים, אלא כל הפושט את ידו ליטול – נותנין לו

כלומר שאין מדקדקין בדבר לומר אם הוא עני וראוי ליתן לו אם לאו,

אלא נותנים לכל אדם שיבא ויתבע,

שאין יום זה מדין צדקה בלבד, אלא מדין שמחה ומנות

שהרי אף בעשירים כתיב ומשלוח מנות איש לרעהו.

ואומרים רבותי ז”ל

כי מטעם זה נהגו ליתן מעות פורים אף לגוי

דכיון שאנו נוהגין ליתן לכל אדם, אם לא נתן לגוי – איכא איבה

וקיימא לן מפרנסין עניי גוים עם עניי ישראל מפני דרכי שלום

Yerushalmi Megillah Chapter One says:

We are not particular about Purim monies,

rather, everyone who sticks out their hand to take – we give him,

meaning that we are not particular to check whether he is poor and it is appropriate to give him or not,

rather we give to every person who arrives and makes a claim,

because (giving on) this day is not only under the rubric of tzedokoh,

but also the rubric of happiness and food-gifts,

as behold even regarding the rich it says and sending food-gifts each man to his fellow.

My teachers z”l say

that for this reason they had the practice of giving Purim-money even to a nonJew

as since we have the practice of giving to every person, if we don’t give to a nonJew – there will be eivah,

and we hold that we support poor nonJews together with poor Jews because of the ways of peace

Rabbi Herschel Reichman shlita draws this moral explicitly in the name of his teacher Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik (Reshimot Shiurim, Bava Metzia 78b)

ומלשון הריטב”א משמע

 דמה שהביא הריטב”א שמפרנסין עניי עכו”ם עם עניי ישראל

משום איבה ודרכי שלום –

אינו ר”ל דחל בפורים רק התקנה דעלמא

לפרנס עניי עכו”ם משום דרכי שלום,

אלא ר”ל דמחלקין לעכו”ם ממעות פורים מדין שמחת הפורים המסוימת,

ואיבה ודרכי שלום הם טעמים למה לחלק לעניי עכו”ם בפורים,

והוא כדי להרבות בשמחת היום.

The language of Ritva implies

that when Ritva cites that we support the non-Jewish poor together with the Jewish poor

because of eivah and the ways of peace –

he does not intend only to apply to Purim the general decree

that we support the non-Jewish poor because of the ways of peace,

rather he intends that we distribute Purim monies to nonJews under the distinct rubric of Purim joy,

and eivah and the ways of peace are reasons to distribute to poor nonJews on Purim,

and that is in order to increase the joy of the day,

Maybe this was Nimukei Yosef’s intention as well. Certainly it seems a better explanation of Tur.

Beit Yosef goes on to cite a much less enthusiastic perspective from Hagahot Maimuniot (Megillah, end of Chapter 2):

והגהות מיימוניות כתבו שכתב תלמיד אחד לפני רש”י:

ראיתי בני אדם שנוהגים לחלק מתנות בפורים

לעבדים ולשפחות גוים העומדים בבתי ישראל

והדבר הוקשה בעיני רבי

לפי שנאמר (אסתר ט כב) ומתנות לאביונים, וזה הנותן פרוטה לעבד – גוזל לעניים

ומראה בעצמו כאילו מקיים מתנות הנאמרים באביוני ישראל

וכתב רבי

שטוב ממנו לזרקן לים, שמראה שמתנות היום אף לגוים

וכן כתב הר”מ בשם רבינו אפרים,

וכתב

דבעיר שלא הורגלו בכך – אסור להרגילן,

אבל בעיר שהורגלו בכך – אין לבטל הדבר

משום דרכי שלום

Hagahot Maimuniot wrote that a student wrote in Rashi’s presence:

I have seen people having the practice of distributing gifts on Purim

to non-Jewish servants and maidservants who are in Jewish households,

but the matter was very difficult in my teacher’s eyes,

because it says “and gifts to the poor”, and this one who gives a penny to a servant – is robbing the poor and showing himself as if he is fulfilling the gifts which are said (exclusively) about the Jewish poor,

and my teacher wrote

that it would be better to throw it into the sea than to show that the gifts of the day apply even to nonJews,

and so wrote Rabbi M(eir of Rothenburg?) in the name of Rabbeinu Efraim (of Regensburg?),

and he wrote

that in a city that has not made this a habit –  it is forbidden to habituate them to it,

but in a city where they have made it a habit – one should not annul the matter,

because of the ways of peace.

Hagahot Maimuniot records that Maharam of Rothenburg and/or Rashi excluded Gentile recipients from the mitzvah, and saw every penny given them as a concession required only by the ways of peace.

Beit Yosef reads their position into Tur:

ורבינו – אפשר שבמקום שנהגו קאמר בדוקא,

או בעיר חדשה אם צריכין לנהוג כך מפני דרכי שלום:

and our Teacher (Tur) –

perhaps he spoke only about a place where this was already practiced,

or in a new city if they need to practice it because of the ways of peace.

 This seems an implausible reading of Tur. Professor Eliav Shochetman[1] suggests instead that Beit Yosef’s sources reflect a medieval Ashkenazic-Sefardic disagreement about the nature of obligations generated by “the ways of peace” and the potential for “eivah”. Ashkenazim see them as case-specific, intended to prevent specific Gentiles from experiencing discrimination and consequently feeling animosity toward Jews. By contrast, Sefardim see them as intended to create an overall relationship that would prevent animosity between communities. The practical difference is that the Ashkenazim might not apply these obligations where there is no risk that a nonJew will realize what has happened, whereas for Sefardim they apply regardless.

I’m happy to accept Professor Schochetman’s argument that Ritva represents the general tenor of Sefardic halakhah. Regarding Ashkenaz, however, I suggest that we should pay more attention to the specific nonJews under discussion, namely “non-Jewish servants and maidservants who are in Jewish households”.

Shibbolei HaLeket 202 and many other sources suggest that the Jewish poor were embarrassed to beg om Purim, but would instead send their children out on a collecting circuit with non-Jewish servants. (I’m noting that the poor had servants, but not discussing that here.) People apparently began giving the servants money as well, and this is what roused rabbinic ire. It seems plausible from other sources that over time, the share kept by the servants increased, and more, that it became perceived as an expected tip rather than charity. (The conflation of tips and charity is another moral issue that I must also bracket here.)

It is also worth considering the parallels between these reports and Orchot Chaim Hilkhot Avodah Zarah 14:

כתב הרמנ”ע

על מה שנוהגין גויות [בעת] [ש]בשר אסורה

[לקבץ נדבות

והולכים אצל היהודים לקבץ מהם נדבות בשביל הכו”מ] –

אסור להרגילה לעולם

ושמעתי שרבינו אפרים קורא עליהם

וכסף הרביתי להם וזהב עשו לבעל.

אבל במקומות הרגילים – אין לבטל הדבר

משום דרכי שלום

Rabbi M(eir of Rothenburg?) wrote

Regarding the custom of the non-Jewish women in the time when meat is forbidden (Lent?)

to gather freewill offerings,

and they go amongst the Jews to gather freewill offerings on behalf of their idolatry –

it is forbidden for this to become habitual

and I have heard that Rabbeinu Efraim (of Regensburg) applied to them the verse

and I have made gold and silver abundant to them, and they used them for Baal

but in places where it is already habitual – one must not nullify the matter,

because of the ways of peace.

I wonder whether the fierce Ashkenazic objections to this practice were grounded less in a narrow conception of the ways of peace and more in a sense that the money was being taken as a sort of religious tax. Note that Shibbolei HaLeket and many other reports apply the verse and I have made gold etc. to the Purim disbursements, where the fit is awkward, since after all we do support the non-Jewish poor because of the ways of peace.

Shulchan Arukh’s halakhic formulation (OC 604:3-4) is curiously ambivalent, I think reflecting Beit Yosef’s awareness that Hagahot Maimuniot’s hesitations seem alien to Tur’s position.

אין מדקדקים במעות פורים,

אלא כל מי שפושט ידו ליטול – נותנים לו;

ובמקום שנהגו ליתן אף לא”י – נותנים.

We are not particular on Purim,

rather whoever stretched out his hand – we give him

and where the custom is to give even to nonJews – we give.

Shulkhan Arukh thus avoids saying whether the custom should be encouraged or discouraged in places with no established practice.

Rabbi Hillel Cooperman has collected several kabbalistic positions explaining that giving to nonJews is part of the mitzvah without referring to ways of peace. My preferred explanation is that on the holiday that celebrates Jewish power – tenuous, and in the immediate aftermath of a credible genocidal threat, but genuine power – it is religiously essential that we demonstrate our capacity to use power to share joy and uplift others, in the ways of peace, rather than provoking or intensifying enmity. Thus on Purim we give without discriminating to all who stretch out their hands, “Jew and nonJew alike”.  

Shabbat shalom!

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[1] “On the Custom to Give Gifts to the NonJewish Poor on Purim” (Sinai 100:2:852)