Truth be Told[1] 

by Aryeh A. Frimer*

Comments on Changing the Immutable: How Orthodox Judaism Rewrites its History by Marc B. Shapiro (Oxford – Portland, OR: The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2015).

            I found R. Prof. Marc Shapiro’s new book Changing the Immutable a fascinating read and very hard to put down. The first seven chapters deal with censorship of halakhic and philosophical works, while the eighth focuses on lying and misrepresentation in pesak. As we know from his previous works, Shapiro has a very fluid writing style and the subject matter is always well researched. He does his best to be honest, unbiased and complete in his presentation. He is, moreover, intrigued with exploring the limits of the traditional consensus, which makes for some captivating reading. Yet, despite all these wonderful qualities – or perhaps, because of them, I found the present volume particularly unsettling and disconcerting.

R. Jacob J Schacter’s classic article “Facing the Truths of History” had already sensitized me to the fact that publishers censor and even rewrite portions of the books they bring to press.[2] They do so because they find some of their author’s positions “unacceptable” – views which don’t fit the publishers’ or the intended reader’s “party line.” That such censorship continues unabashedly in the 21st century is disappointing, but then “there is no shame anymore.” But these are, by and large, sins of omission; somehow, with that I could live.

            But what I found particularly troubling with Changing the Immutable was the last chapter, which deals with lying in pesak. After going through the many examples Shapiro cites, the reader is left with one clear impression. One sometimes needs to be careful about trusting a Posek, since he may well be misrepresenting something in his ruling. It could be the source and authority of the prohibition. For example, is the prohibition based on a biblical commandment (positive or negative), rabbinic edict, custom or mere public policy (slippery slope) considerations? Alternatively, the expressed reason may not be the real grounds for the prohibition. In addition, the application may be much broader than halakhically permitted. To my mind these are shocking revelations: these are not sins of omission but commission; the perpetrators are scholars and religious leaders; and these deviations constitute intellectual dishonesty at its worst.

Our author is not insensitive to this dissonance. In an attempt to explain how these scholars justify not being fully honest in pesak, Shapiro writes in the last two pages of the book (pp. 284-285) about “redefining truth.” He indicates that these decisors see nothing wrong in what they are doing, since their ultimate goal is the “higher good”. As they see it, they have ultimately prevented their respective communities and congregants from sinning and deviating from the proper path of shemirat mitsvot. The fact that these scholars have bent the truth, and distorted Jewish law in the process, is of lesser importance. The ends in these cases, justify the means.

It is with these jarring observations that the book comes to an abrupt end, without any further comment or soul-searching. This is despite the fact that on page 239ff, Shapiro brings one citation from Hazal after another about the centrality of truth, and the seriousness of the sin of lying. After all, the Torah itself commands us: “mi-Devar sheker tirhak” – “From untruthfulness, distance thyself” (Exodus 23:7). If what the author writes in the last chapter is true, then Hazal’s eloquent statements about the importance of honesty have become nothing but a mockery. It raises serious moral questions with insufficient and unsatisfying answers. How are we now supposed to educate our children and talmidim as to the cardinal nature of truth and truthfulness?! How are we to live with such a clash between theory and practice?

In the course of our own study of Women’s Tefilla Groups, my brother R. Prof. Dov Frimer and I researched misrepresentation in pesak in the context of women’s issues.[3] Many leading Rabbis were deeply and justifiably concerned that some of the feminist practices introduced were ultimately “bad for the Jews” on public policy grounds.[4] But instead of saying so clearly, some rabbis adduced reasons that were not halakhically sound. Our own research has led us to the clear conclusion that the vast majority of the gedolim do not condone this type of misrepresentation or that discussed in the last chapter of Changing the Immutable. Giving an erroneous ruling – despite one’s good intentions, or even misstating the reason or source for a prohibition, violates the prohibition “mi-Devar sheker tirhak“, if not a variety of other issurim.

We begin our discussion of this issue with the famous Pesak Din (halakhic ruling) promulgated by a conference of rabbis who met in Michalowce Hungary in 1865. This edict initially signed by twenty-five leading rabbinic figures and subsequently by many more, ruled that nine practices (including, inter alia, synagogue choirs, sermons in the vernacular, synagogues weddings, absence of a central bima, canonical robes for the Hazan) were halakhically forbidden. Leading rabbis Moses Schick and Esriel Hildesheimer and many of their colleagues refused to sign. The fundamental claim of Rabbis Schick and Hildesheimer was that, contrary to the impression given by the Pesak Din, the only grounds for some of the edicts were public policy (mi-gdar milta) – not halakhic – considerations.[5] The term “Pesak Din” (legal ruling) was in fact a conscious misnomer, an attempt to hide the truth, and, hence, a flagrant deviation from Jewish law with which they could take no part. R. Schick also argued that, since the Pesak Din was promulgated by a Jewish court, it violated bal tosif, adding a mitsva to the Torah.[6]

Similarly, R. Zvi Hirsch Chajes[7] argues that it is forbidden to call a rabbinic edict a biblical prohibition because it violates not only bal tosif but also mi-devar sheker tirhak. Similarly, R. Chayim Hirschensohn[8] charges those rabbis who forbid women to become involved in politics with violating both bal tosif and lying. R. Chaim Soloveitchik of Brisk[9], maintains that both Ra’avad and Rambam agree that “mi-devar sheker tirhak” forbids a posek from claiming that a rabbinic injunction is biblical. R. Jacob Israel Kanievsky,[10] refuting the suggestion that it is forbidden to take part in elections in the secular State of Israel, writes: “…And your Honor should know that even to be zealous, it is forbidden to teach Torah not according to the halakha (Avot V:8), and that which is not true will not succeed at all.” R. Haim David Halevi[11] prohibits a posek from misrepresenting halakha and/or giving an erroneous reason for a prohibition for two basic reasons: (1) the biblical prohibition of “mi-devar sheker tirhak” and (2) a total loss of trust in rabbinic authority would result should the truth become known (see more below). [See also the related opinions of Rabbis Ehrenberg, Rogeler and Sobel cited below.]

As Prof. Shapiro documents in Changing the Immutable, some posekim dissent. They argued, on various grounds, that “mi-devar sheker tirhak” is not applicable to cases where halakha is misrepresented so as to prevent future violations of Jewish law. Other scholars argue that the dispensation to modify the truth in order to maintain peace (me-shanim mi-penei ha-shalom, Yevamot 65b) also applies to misrepresenting halakha in order to maintain peace between kelal Yisrael and the Almighty. Yet others maintain that if a posek believes an action should be prohibited because of mi-gdar milta, he may misrepresent the reason for or source of a prohibition; since there will be no change in the legal outcome, mi-devar sheker tirhak does not apply.[12] Finally, some have argued that mi-devar sheker tirhak only refers to lying in court.[13]

But these arguments have been seriously and vigorously challenged. Thus, R. Joshua Menahem Mendel Ehrenberg[14] demonstrates that the consensus of posekim – rishonim and aharonim – is that mi-devar sheker tirhak applies in all cases, inside court and out. R. Ehrenberg further argues that this is true even if it is intended to promote a religious purpose (ve-afilu li-devar mitsva). Similarly, R. Elijah [ben Samuel] of Lublin[15] chastises a colleague for lying in a decision, even though his intentions were noble. R. Ovadiah Yosef[16] discusses at length whether a judge, maintaining a minority position on a three judge panel, can lie and say “I do not know what to rule,” – so that two more judges will be added to the panel and his minority opinion will have a chance to become the majority view; he concludes that it is forbidden. R. Solomon Sobel[17] explicitly states that me-shanim mi-penei ha-shalom only allows one to change the facts, not the halakha. Both R. Jacob Ettlinger and R. Reuben Margaliot[18] maintain that me-shanim mi-penei ha-shalom allows one only to obfuscate by using language which can be understood in different ways, but not to lie; hence, misrepresenting halakhic reasons or sources would also be forbidden.

Also unmentioned is the long list of posekim (including the Radba”z)[19] who maintain that even if one is theoretically permitted to misrepresent Halakha, under certain unique circumstances – one is nevertheless forbidden to do so in practice. This is because “the truth will out.”   Not only will this revelation ultimately lead to a terrible hillul Hashem, but it will undermine peoples’ trust in the rabbinic establishment. In this regard R. Benjamin Lau has observed:[20]

The rabbi is expected to know and present the various aspects of each issue and not to conceal those aspects that are inconsistent with his own point of view. If a rabbi is untrue to the sources and reaches his decision without taking account of conflicting views, he will be seen to be untrustworthy. And a lack of trust between a rabbi and his community of questioners will drive a wedge between that community and the Torah overall. Stating the truth, of course, does not require the decisor to remain neutral; his role requires him to reach a decision one way or the other. But the decision must be reached through disclosure, not concealment, of the alternatives….. Now, when everyone has access to the [Bar Ilan] Responsa Project data base and Google provides answers to all imaginable questions, everyone can check every responsum and examine its trustworthiness. A rabbi who rules in an oversimplified way, whether strictly or leniently, in a area of halakhic complexity will be caught as untrustworthy.

Having lived through the crises and confrontations of women’s prayer groups, women on religious councils, women in communal leadership roles and women’s aliyyot – I can testify that there is great need for both in-depth knowledge and truthfulness. The “hillul Hashem and loss of trust” argument is not just hype – but painfully all too accurate! Many of the rabbis in the 1970s lost control of the religious leadership of their communities because they were unprepared or unwilling to deal with the challenges honestly and head on. Many rabbis simply tried to stonewall the situation, while others were not forthright about the real reason for forbidding such practices. As previously noted, the Rabbis may well have been correct that many of the feminist practices introduced were halakhically unsound or “bad for the Jews” on a variety of public policy grounds.[21] But instead of saying so clearly (as Rav Joseph B. Soloveitchik zt”l had urged and himself practiced), some rabbis waffled, while others prevaricated. But the halakhic truth quickly became known – a consequence of the “information age.” And as a result, many balebatim lost trust in the religious leadership as a whole. For them the conclusion was simply: “Everything boils down to politics.” 

            It is, therefore, critically important to reiterate that the cases cited by our author, exemplify neither pesak in general, nor the consensus view of the posekim. It is forbidden to misrepresent in halakhic rulings as a matter of law and policy.  In essence, then, Prof Shapiro’s scholarly and well-documented book presents the reader with a most fascinating review of an approach within halakhic decision making, which has been rejected by mainstream pesak. Indeed, such cases need to be actively addressed if they are to be uprooted.

Response by Marc B. Shapiro

I understand why Professor Frimer is troubled by what I wrote, and to a large extent my conclusions diverge from his own. All I would say is that the matter is complex, and rather than attempt to simplify matters, as I feel Frimer has done, we must attempt to understand how the same Sages who spoke about the importance of truth could at times countenance departure from it. This is a challenge that requires sensitivity and nuance, and appreciation of changing times and values. When Frimer sees a text that permits false attribution, he sees prevarication and hypocrisy. But a historically attuned outlook would seek to understand rather than condemn. Ironically, it is Frimer who is judging the Sages and decisors, because if their ideas do not conform to his understanding then these ideas are regarded by him as problematic.

Thus, Frimer cites the famous 1865 pesak din of Michalowce and tells us that R. Moses Schick and R. Esriel Hildesheimer opposed it since they saw it as departing from the truth. While their position is certainly significant, what about the fact that among Hungarian rabbis they were a minority, and most of the leading Hungarian rabbis supported the pesak? How is my argument refuted by citing Rabbis Schick and Hildesheimer if they were opposed by most of their colleagues? Doesn’t the fact that most of the Hungarian rabbis opposed Rabbis Schick and Hildesheimer support my position? 

As for the various rabbinic opinions cited by Frimer, I don’t deny that these opinions exist, and in my book I refer to Frimer’s famous article on women’s prayer groups in which he cites these opinions. But I also make the point that there is an alternative tradition which allows much more leeway for authorities to at times diverge from the truth. I also believe, contrary to Frimer, that this is a mainstream position. Since this position is held by R. Ovadiah Yosef and R. Hayyim Kanievsky, I don’t see how it is possible for one to state that it is not a mainstream position.

The point of the chapter, however, was not to advocate for one position or the other, but to focus on the alternative tradition, the existence of which is more or less suppressed today. I was explicit that my aim was to show how far some were willing to go in sanctioning deviations from the truth, and I indicate that there are views in opposition to these. However, my intent was to study the views of those with a “liberal” perspective on the importance of truth. It is this tradition that I wished to explore, and to rescue it, as it were, from the well-intentioned apologetics. I never state that this is the only authentic position. On the contrary, one can find the opposite perspective presented in numerous articles. This is why I thought it was important to present alternative views, from the Talmud until the present, views which I think show that there is a rabbinic conception of the Noble Lie.

I also must dispute the following statement by Frimer: “R. Joshua Menahem Mendel Ehrenberg demonstrates that the consensus of posekim – rishonim and aharonim – is that mi-devar sheker tirhak applies in all cases, inside court and out. R. Ehrenberg further argues that this is true even if it is intended to promote a religious purpose.” How can Frimer state that R. Ehrenberg “demonstrates” such a thing? What R. Ehrenberg does is present an argument, and everyone can evaluate its cogency. The fact is that numerous authorities do not accept R. Ehrenberg’s position, which means that they would not agree that he has proven his case.

To Frimer, and others like him who have the same reaction after reading chapter 7, I can only say that modern views of how to understand texts, and what we today regard as truth, cannot be used as a measure with which to judge people who lived in a very different time and had a very different understanding of these sorts of matters. It is their understanding that I seek to explore, rather than foisting my own value judgments upon them. Unlike Frimer, who is involved in halakhic writing and attempting to influence the community in religious matters, I write from a more “objective” perspective, without such concerns. As such, while Frimer wishes to “uproot” what he regards as unacceptable views of certain poskim. I seek to understand the phenomenon and to describe it.

When, on p. 284, I speak about redefining truth, I am not speaking about poskim per se but about how to understand the entire phenomenon that I have documented in the book. The question is how does the importance of truth coexist with what we have seen, and it is in this context that I discuss how truth need not be seen as equivalent to factual or historical truth.

I agree with Frimer that none of the great poskim supported lying in pesak as a normative option on a regular basis. Yet as I have already indicated,  I believe that there is a tradition that allows for not being frank at certain times, when it is thought that other values are at stake. In the book I state that we should understand this position in a sympathetic fashion even if it is at odds with how today we generally approach matters.

Frimer asks how are we supposed to educate our children and students as to the importance of truth and truthfulness if what I say is correct. This is a good question with which educators need to struggle, but it is not a refutation of what I have written. If my position is correct, the world will not collapse. It will just be one more Torah matter, alongside Amalek, yefat toar, slavery, homosexuality, etc., that at certain times is not in line with contemporary values.

It is obvious that Shafran has never even looked at my book and is only basing his comments on what appears in Glinter’s review. Those who have read the book know that a major theme of it is precisely how Orthodoxy changes. In fact, there is no one in the world today whose scholarship is more associated with the thesis that Orthodoxy changes than me. Much of the criticism of me is on precisely this point, that I have exaggerated the amount of change. Yet here Shafran comes and says that I am ignorant about how Orthodoxy changes. This is what I mean by comic relief.

Shafran then writes:

If a biography of Bertrand Russell can choose to elide the great philosopher’s serial marital infidelities and not be accused of rewriting the past, a hagiography of a great rabbi should certainly be permitted to overlook judgments he made with the best of intentions that in retrospect might seem misguided to some today. Such acts of civility are at times portrayed as scandalous by Shapiro and his reviewer.

A biography of Russel that chooses to omit his marital infidelities would indeed be rightly accused of rewriting the past. As for the second part of the sentence, I agree that a hagiography can leave out material of the sort Shafran mentions, but that is because it is a hagiography! If it intended to be a biography, then no, it cannot overlook mistaken judgments made by the subject, or else it ceases to be biography. I also do not think that it is an act of civility to refrain from writing about such mistaken judgments (as for example, R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg’s early misjudgment of the Nazi regime).

Shafran provides a few examples of how practice in Orthodoxy has changed, none of which I disagree with. But then again, my book has nothing to do with this. He writes:

One opinion in the Talmud, for example, permits fowl and milk to be cooked together and eaten. Just try ordering milk-braised chicken in your local kosher eatery these days; they’ll sic the mashgiach on you in a Borough Park moment. Men using mirrors was once forbidden as a “womanly” act, a once-true assessment that, for most Orthodox men today, is no longer considered applicable.

Let us say that a new edition of the Talmud was published that deleted the lines that tell us that one opinion permitted fowl and milk to be cooked and eaten together? Would Shafran be OK with this? I assume not, and it is thus unfortunate that he doesn’t know that it is precisely this sort of censorship that my book is focused on. What we have here is not only criticism without having read the book, but criticism without having any clue as to what the book is about. 

And then, to top off the comic relief, Shafran ends his piece as follows:

I have been called some different things in my life, but this is the first time I have been referred to as one of “Orthodoxy’s critics”.

Let me also add that Changing the Immutable has sold very well in the haredi world, and this is not surprising since it is not an anti-haredi book at all.

By Marc B. Shapiro

I had thought that I was done with ArtScroll’s censorship of Rashbam to Genesis chapter 1, but a number of people wanted some explanation about the manuscript of Rashbam’s commentary. This will also give me the opportunity to add some more comments about this distressing episode.[1]

In my prior post on the topic, available here, I referred to Rabbenu Tam’s strong words against those who “corrected” the talmudic text based on their understanding. ArtScroll is guilty of violating Rabbenu Tam’s “command”, as he would certainly also apply his words to later generations tampering with the writings of rishonim. I think everyone can understand that if people were simply allowed to emend or delete texts based on their own understanding, not a single talmudic tractate or medieval work would emerge unscathed. As such, the only honest thing for an editor to do is to point out in a note how he feels the text should read, or if he thinks that a passage should be deleted. Unfortunately, ArtScroll did not choose this to follow this honest, and common sense, approach.

It is not just Rabbenu Tam who dealt with this matter. Nahmanides, in commentary to Bava Batra 134a, blasts those “sinners” those who emend texts based on their own understanding.

וזו עבירה גמורה ולייטי עלה רבנן כל מאן דמגיה ספרים מדעתא דנפשיה

R. Abraham ben David (Rabad) also leaves no doubt as to his position, stating that one who deletes a text based on his understanding, “his hand should be cut off, since one who deletes [sections of] books is like those who burn the Torah.”[2]

ויד המוחקת תיקצץ שמוחק הספרים כשורפי התורה

Following my posts R. Yitzchak Zilber published two pieces in Hebrew.

With regard to ArtScroll, the two pieces don’t really contain anything not mentioned already on this blog, but for those who don’t read English they are valuable. It is also good to see a noted talmid hakham express his feelings about what he terms ArtScroll’s “stupid act”. (I understand why documents like the ones published by Zilber, which are directed towards a certain population, cannot cite the Seforim Blog. Yet it is noteworthy that Uriel Simon’s book אזן מלין תבחן is cited, even if the author’s name is not mentioned). One significant point made by Zilber is his claim that ArtScroll knows the truth, namely, that the passages it chose to censor are not heretical insertions, but it chose to censor them anyway.

I have received emails that make the same point, that the censorship is all about “business”. In other words, the haredi world today does not want to see Rashbam’s peshat understanding of when the day begins, so the censorship is necessary in order for ArtScroll’s mikraot gedolot Chumash to sell. Based on what I have been told by people supposedly in the know, I am inclined to believe this. This is also an appealing explanation as it is much easier to accept than that anyone at ArtScroll really believes in the justification for its censorship that was sent out and which I discussed in the earlier post.

In my post I referred to additional authorities, other than Rashbam, who understood that according to the peshat the first chapter of Genesis teaches that the day begins in the morning.[3] I also mentioned those who believe that this was how things were before the giving of the Torah. R. Moshe Maimon called my attention to the fact that R. Saadiah Gaon also apparently held this view.[4] Here is R. Kafih’s edition of R. Saadiah, Perushei Rabbenu Sa’adiah Gaon al ha-Torah, p. 71. Look at chapter 10, note 4.

R. Ovadiah Yosef cites a number of additional sources that mention the notion that before the giving of the Torah night came after day.[5] One of these is R. Moses Sofer,[6] who not surprisingly quotes his teacher, R. Pinhas Horowitz, whose view on this matter I referred to in the prior post.[7] R. Meir Mazuz[8] notes that R. Reuven Margaliyot says the same thing.[9]

A number of people commented on how ironic it is that Ibn Ezra is being used as a source to determine what is heretical, being that his views on Mosaic authorship are themselves regarded by heretical by ArtScroll.[10] Furthermore, Ibn Ezra has no reticence in citing Karaite interpreters, yet as we know, ArtScroll only cites “accepted” authorities, and won’t even mention the Soncino commentary by name. Incidentally, there are some times when ArtScroll errs in this matter. For example, in its commentary to Jonah, p. 111, it cites “Yefes ben Ali” (who is quoted by Ibn Ezra). Presumably, the ArtScroll editor assumed that he was a rishon.[11] In truth, he was a Karaite, and his inclusion in the Jonah commentary is diametrically opposed to the standard set up by ArtScroll with regard to which commentators they will cite, a standard that opposes the Ibn Ezra-Maimonides approach (adopted by Soncino) of “accept the truth from whomever said it”.[12]

When it comes to Karaite influence on Ibn Ezra, R. Joseph Delmedigo goes so far as to say that most[!] of Ibn Ezra’s explanations come from the Karaites. Reflecting the fact that Ibn Ezra does sometimes strongly reject the Karaite interpretations, Delmedigo states that Ibn Ezra is like a baby who nurses from his mother [i.e., the Karaites] but sometimes also bites her breast.[13]

ודע כי בספרי הקראים תמצא באור לדברי הר”א”ב”ע[!] כי רוב באוריו מקדמוניהם כגון הר”ר ישועה והר”ר יפת והר”ר יהודה הפרסי דולה מושך גם כי לפעמים כיונק שדי אמו נושך

Philip Birnbaum writes:

Ibn Ezra cites Yefet more frequently than any other exegete. In his commentary on the Minor Prophets, Ibn Ezra quotes Yefet forty-four times whereas he mentions Sa’adyah Gaon only five times. . . . Ibn Ezra borrows from Yefet much more than he acknowledges.[14]

This connection of Ibn Ezra to Yefet even led to the creation of a false legend that Ibn Ezra was a student of Yefet.[15]

While Ibn Ezra often adopts the interpretations of Karaite commentators, he also blasts them when necessary. One such example is in his commentary to Deuteronomy 12:17 where he writes: “The heretics [Karaites] say that there are two sorts of first-born. One is the first to break out of its mother’s womb. The second is the first-born of the flock. There is no need to respond to their nonsense.”[16] It is noteworthy that the “nonsense” interpretation that Ibn Ezra refers to is indeed found in a few rishonim including Hizkuni and R. Jacob of Vienna.[17]

Let us now turn to the manuscript of Rashbam. The first thing to mention is that there is only one surviving manuscript page for Rashbam’s commentary to the beginning of Genesis. There used to be another manuscript that contained his commentary to the rest of the Torah but was missing the commentary to Genesis chapters 1-17. Unfortunately, this manuscript was lost during World War II. For such a great figure as Rashbam, it is definitely noteworthy that so few physical specimens of his Torah commentary survived until modern times.[18] What this tells us is that not many scribes were interested in copying the commentary, and I do not know why this was the case. In fact, it is not merely his commentary on the Torah that suffered this fate. While we have Rashbam’s commentaries to most of Bava Batra and the tenth chapter of Pesahim, we know that he also wrote commentaries to most of the other tractates, yet these are lost.[19] Is there any way to explain this?

Here is the manuscript of Rashbam to the beginning of Genesis.

 

It is found in the Bavarian Staatsbibliothek (Munich) and is referred to as Hebrew Manuscript no. 5 (2). Here is the link.

You can examine the entire manuscript here.

Mikva Revisited –

Understanding
Shabbat 13a-b in light of Parshat Metzora

by Chaim Sunitsky
(with some additional comments by Marc B. Shapiro)

It is well known that when
describing the purification of niddah and zava the Torah does not explicitly
mention that immersion is required.[1]
The present article will briefly examine the proofs given for such an immersion
and show a novel understanding of a story brought in the Talmud (Shabbat
13a-b).

There are 5 most commonly brought
proofs for mikva immersion. Three are brought in Tosafot (Hagiga 11a
s.v. lo nitzrecha, Yevamot 47b s.v. bimakom and Yoma
78a mikan), one in Rambam (Isurey Biah 4:3), one in Ramban (Shabbat
13b s.v. bimey and in his Chumash commentary Vayikra 15:11). One of
Tosafot’s proofs is in the Gemara itself (Shabbat 64b): “and she shall
remain in her niddah status”. The earlier sages used to understand this to mean
that a woman during her menstruation should not use makeup or wear nice clothes[2]
until R. Akiva came and said that this way he will divorce her[3]
and explained rather that she shall be niddah until she immerses. Needless to
say, there is no direct proof of immersion in this statement.[4]

Tosafot (ibid) bring an
additional proof from newly obtained vessels after the war with Midian, where
according to Hazal’s understanding they required immersion as the Torah states
(Bamidbar 31:23): “the waters of niddah”, seemingly implying that niddah needs
an immersion too.[5] The simple
meaning of the Torah in this verse is that water with ashes of “red cow” had to
be sprinkled on these vessels.[6]
Indeed there is an understanding based on Rambam[7]
that immersing new vessels is not Deoraita at all.

The third proof of the Tosafot in
the name of a Gaon[8] is from the
fact that even those that touched a bed of niddah need to immerse to become
pure, how much more so niddah herself. However, this would only at best prove
that a niddah needs to immerse in order not to cause ritual impurity to spread
on the objects[9].

Ramban’s proof that immersion is
required is based on the case of a male zav.[10]
The problem with this is that zav requires immersion in “mayim chaim” (a
natural source of water) whereas a niddah can immerse even in regular mikva
made from snow or rain water.[11]
Rambam’s proof is that all purifications require immersion so it must be that
niddah does too,[12] though the
verse he uses as a proof is also talking about ritual purity and not
necessarily implying any marital prohibition.[13]

After we see that there is no
conclusive proof that the immersion of niddah is a Biblical law, we may gain a
better understanding of a story in the Talmud (Shabbat 13a-b, Avot
Derabbi Natan, 2). It tells us that a certain rabbinical student used to
sleep in one bed[14] with his
wife after her seven days of niddah were over until she counted the “seven
clean days” and went to the mikva. The implication seems to be that after the
Biblical period of seven days the prohibition is only Rabbinical.[15]
The Rishonim are quite surprised at this as there is absolutely no relaxation[16]
of the prohibition for a woman who is niddah after the seven days are over as
she remains biblically prohibited to her husband until she immerses in the
mikva. Some Rishonim therefore suppose that the minhag at that time was for a
woman to go to the mikva twice, once in the end of the seven days of niddah and
one at the end of “seven clean days”. However according to what we wrote it is
possible that this student thought that the entire immersion in the mikva is
also rabbinical in nature and therefore was more lenient once the Biblical
seven days were over.[17]

* * *

I sent this post to Marc Shapiro
and here are his comments:

See Shem Tov’s
commentary on Maimonides, Guide 3:47, where he has a radical view that
according to Maimonides immersion of a niddah is only rabbinic. R. Kafih, in
his commentary on the Guide, ibid., is outraged by Shem Tov’s comment:

ראה
שם טוב ששאל “ומה יאמר הרב בטבילת זבה ונדה במים קרים בסתיו”, והמשיך
בדברי הבל שאסור לשמען שכאלו דעת רבנו שטבילת נדה וזבה מדרבנן. וחלילה חלילה.

R. Kafih continues by explaining why Shem Tov is
mistaken and concludes:

והארכתי מפני שכבר הטעה את קלי
הדעת

In his commentary on the Mishneh Torah, Sefer
Kedushah, vol. 1, p. 184, R. Kafih returns to this matter:

והבל
יפצה פיהו של בעל שם טוב מפרש המורה, בח”ג פרק מז שכאלו סובר רבנו שטבילת נדה
דרבנן, וענה גם כאן שקר ברבנו ותלה בו מה שלא אמר ולא עלתה על לבו חלילה

The matter you discuss in your post also concerned
R. Solomon Zvi Schueck. In his Torah Shelemah, vol. 2, p. 129b, he
prefaces his discussion as follows:

ורבים
מגדולי הראשונים והאחרונים (עיי’ תורה תמימה במקומו) עמדו להקשות וכי עיקר גדול
כטבילת נדה שקדושת ישראל תלוי בה לא תמצא בתורה רק ברמז דק וקל. ועוד מקשים, כפי
משמעות הגמרא בשבת הנ”ל דרשו זקנים הראשונים מן והדוה בנדתה רק שלא תכחול ולא
תתקשט הנדה בימי נדותה, אכן לא שנלמוד טבילת נדה במי מקוה, עד שבא רע”ק ולימד
בנדתה תהא עד שתבא במים, וכי עד רבי עקיבה לא טבלו?

See R. Schueck’s extended discussion as it is
quite interesting, even though it is complete speculation.

You cite Halakhot Gedolot, Hilkhot Niddah,
no. 41 (p. 439 in the Machon Yerushalayim edition), that the law of immersion
for a niddah is rabbinic:

זב וזבה טבילתן מדאוריתא, נדה
מדרבנן היא

This is a well-known passage that has been
discussed. Let me just make three comments.

1. See Teshuvot u-Fesakim me’et Hakhmei
Ashkenaz ve-Tzarfat, ed. Kupfer (Jerusalem, 1973), no. 158, p. 246 which
states:

ובהלכות גדולות פוסק טבילת
נידה דרבנן ושרא להו מרייהו

2. R. David Zvi Rotstein points out that the
Karaites were very stringent regarding niddah, and therefore it is possible
that the Behag’s comment, that the law of immersion for a niddah is only
rabbinic, does not reflect is true viewpoint but was only directed against the
Karaites. See Ohel Sarah Leah (Jerusalem, 1999), p. 638 in the note. As
far as I am concerned, this makes absolutely no sense. If something is a
rabbinic prohibition, and the Karaites were arguing that it is unnecessary,
then I can understand a rabbinic figure (falsely) stating that the matter in
question is a Torah law, in order to shore up observance. (I discuss this in my
new book.) But what sense does it make to do this in the reverse, i.e.,
declaring that something is only rabbinic because the Karaites took it as a
Torah law?

3. This view of Halakhot Gedolot is
mentioned in Besamim Rosh, no. 175. Here it is attributed to R. Yehudai
Gaon. As Saul Berlin explains in Kasa de-Harsana, some rishonim assumed
that R. Yehudai authored Halakhot Gedolot.

The case in Besamim Rosh deals with a man who
would publicly hug and kiss his wife even though she was a niddah. The rabbi
who wrote to “R. Asher” did not place the man in herem, and one of his reasons
was that the law of immersion of a niddah is only rabbinic, and therefore since
the man was not violating a Torah prohibition “better an unwitting sinner than
a willful sinner.” “R. Asher” rejects this position and thus on the surface
this responsum might appear quite pious. But as with a number of other responsa
in Besamim Rosh, what the forger Saul Berlin has done is put the radical
view in the public eye, even if in the end “R. Asher” rejects it. From this
responsum people will see that there is an argument to be made for not being
strict with the laws of niddah, since after all, they are only rabbinic. In his
reply “R. Asher” also mentions that many am ha’aratzim are more stringent when
it comes to the laws of niddah than the scholars. I see this too as an attempt
by Berlin to subvert traditional Judaism by making it seem as if the common
practices regarding the laws of niddah are based on ignorance.

Changing the
Immutable: How Orthodox Judaism Rewrites Its History

Marc B. Shapiro

I am happy to announce that my
new book is now with the printer and should be at the distributor by May 4. Amazon
and book stores will have the book not long after that. Changing the
Immutable has taken quite a long time and I hope readers find that it was
worth the wait. One of the main reasons it has taken so long is that some of my
time in recent years has been devoted to my posts on the Seforim Blog. When I
first started posting here I saw it merely as a pleasant diversion. However, I
now see my Seforim Blog posts as an important part of my scholarly
writing.  Throughout Changing the
Immutable I reference not only my posts but many others that appeared on
the Seforim Blog.

I am making this announcement now
rather than after the book appears because Amazon is offering a pre-order
discount (link). For those who want to wait, I know that Biegeleisen will be selling
it at a very good price.

By Marc B. Shapiro

(This post was originally part of the previous one, but since I know people don’t like reading posts more than twenty pages long, I split it up into two parts.)

1. I know that every year around Christmas time some people read my article on Torah study on Christmas eve. At the end of the article I raise the possibility that the various Nittel practices were actually based on non-Jewish superstitions. My suspicion was proven beyond any doubt in a wonderful article by Rebecca Scharbach, “The Ghost in the Privy: On the Origins of Nittel Nacht and Modes of Cultural Exchange.”[1] I recommend that everyone add this article to their “holiday reading”. (Due to reasons beyond my control, this post was not able to appear, as planned, before Christmas.)

As for our own holiday of Hanukkah, let me share something that I think people will find interesting. When it comes to the dating of various Psalms, for those in the Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist world there don’t appear to be any dogmatic issues involved, much like there are no dogmatic issues raised if one assumes that the prophecies beginning in Isaiah chapter 40 come from a later prophet than those in the first part of the book.[2] Nevertheless, I think people generally assume that traditionalists will not speak about “Maccabean Psalms”. (Truth be told, I don’t know if there are even any academic scholars that still identify some of the Psalms as belonging to the Maccabean period.)

See S.’s post here where he notes that Philip Birnbaum, in his siddur, seems to allude to a psalm as having been written in the Maccabean period. However, S. also quotes R. Samson Raphael Hirsch as stating that Orthodox Judaism rejects the notion of “Pseudo-Isaiah”, and of “Maccabean songs under the name of David.” On the other hand, R. Solomon Judah Rapoport believed that at least one psalm (and perhaps more) were written during the Maccabean period. He identified other psalms as dating from the Second Temple period and defended the religious legitimacy of this view. “If the sages of the Talmud advanced the date of a number of Psalms from the time of David to that of Ezra, a period of more than five hundred years, we must have no scruples in advancing them another two hundred years.”[3] R. Samuel Barukh Rabinkow also felt that “the religious value of any of the Psalms is independent of the time of its composition or any historical consideration or reflection.”[4]

I found a very interesting passage by R. Abraham Saba in his Tzeror ha-Mor.[5] He appears to be saying that Psalm 30, which we recite every day (and which many recite after Hanukkah morning tefillah and after lighting the Hanukkah candles) was written when the Temple was rededicated by the Hasmoneans.

אני סבור כי מזמור שיר חנוכת הבית לדוד נתקן על חנוכת הבית של חשמונאי . . . ולכן נעש’ נס בשמן והדליקו ממנה שמנה ימים ועל זה סדר מזמור שיר חנוכת הבית

R. Saba continues by explaining the various verses in line with this conception. Now I realize that one can argue that what he means is that David prophetically wrote the psalm with the Hasmonean rededication in mind, and this interpretation is actually stated by R. Abraham the son of the Vilna Gaon.[6]

Yet such an approach this does not appear to fit with the words of R. Saba:

נתקן על חנוכת הבית של חשמונאי

In his “translation” of this passage Eliyahu Munk writes: “I am convinced that David, in his holy spirit, foresaw such a period and dedicated Psalm 30, 1-13 to that period, therefore commencing with מזמור שיר חנוכת הבית לדוד ‘a song for the consecration of the House,’ the ‘house’ being the reconsecration of the Temple after the Hasmoneans’ victory.”[7] Yet all readers can see that in the original R. Saba does not mention David or his holy spirit.

R. Joseph Hayyim[8] believes that Psalm 30 as a whole was written by David, and he says it is possible that David also wrote the first verse. But he also says that it is possible that the first verse, which speaks of dedication of the Temple, was added to the psalm during the Maccabean period.

אפשר לומר לעולם דוד הע”ה לא אמר פסוק זה של חנוכת הבית, אלא גם הוא התחיל מן ארוממך, ופסוק זה בזמן בית שני כשעשה הקב”ה להם נסים וניצולו וחנכו הבית והמזבח מחדש הוסיפו על מזמור זה פסוק זה מפני שראו דכל דברי המזמור שייכים גם לעניינם.

He adds that this notion should not trouble anyone, as we know that according to one opinion in the Talmud the last eight verses of the Torah were added by Joshua, and he also notes that there were a couple of verses in the book of Joshua that were added after Joshua’s death. In other words, minor additions to abook after the death of the author are not religiously problematic.

Nevertheless, R. Meir Mazuz is indeed troubled by what R. Joseph Hayyim wrote.[9] He claims that the verses added to biblical books noted by R. Joseph Hayyim were added by prophets.[10] Yet in the case of Psalm 30, R. Joseph Hayyim is suggesting that an addition took place during Second Temple times after prophecy had already ceased and there was no longer the institution of anshei keneset ha-gedolah. According to R. Mazuz this is indeed religiously problematic. One can reply to R. Mazuz that while prophecy might have ceased, ruah ha-kodesh did not,[11] and therefore it was permissible for verses to be added to the book of Psalms even in the Maccabean period. After all, a standard view among rishonim is that the book of Psalms is not the product of prophecy but of ruah ha-kodesh.[12]

R. Mazuz adds a second reason why he cannot accept what R. Joseph Hayyim writes. He claims that R. Joseph Hayyim’s position will give support to the modern biblical scholars who believe that verses in the book of Daniel were added in the Maccabean period, a position he also finds religiously objectionable. I don’t understand this objection as the modern biblical scholars do not need, and do not look for, support from traditional commentators. They are completely oblivious to what rabbis like R. Joseph Hayyim have to say on these matters, and have no reason to cite his view as a support for their own position.R. Moses Isaac Ashkenazi discusses the authorship of Psalms in the introduction to his Ho’il Moshe on Tehillim (Livorno, 1880). Although he has his doubts, he says that one who assumes that Psalm 44 was composed during the Maccabean period “has what to rely on.”

So much for Maccabean psalms, but what about post-Davidic psalms in general? R. Ashkenazi identifies Psalms 79 and 137 as having been written during the Babylonian Exile. He also thinks that Psalms 126 and 129 might have been written then. He is led to his view because he can find no evidence that David was a prophet. While David had ruah ha-kodesh, it is only prophecy that reveals future events, and thus the psalms that reflect a post-First Temple era must indeed have been written centuries after David. 

As with R. Ashkenazi, his predecessor R. Eleazar ben Samuel Shmelke claims that Psalms 79 and 137 were composed after the destruction of the First Temple. He states that this was also Ibn Ezra’s opinion.[13] In Ibn Ezra’s introduction to Tehillim (which is not found in all mikraot gedolot editions) Ibn Ezra states that “others” held that Psalm 137 and a number of other psalms were written during the Babylonian Exile, yet he does not signal his acceptance of this view.

One of those Ibn Ezra had in mind who held that some psalms were written during the Babylonian Exile was R. Moses Ibn Gikatilla.[14] R. Raphael Berdugo also states that a number of psalms, including Psalm 137, were composed during the Babylonian Exile.[15]

In Rashbam’s commentary to Tehillim (which we can expect ArtScroll to censor if it ever publishes it), he points to psalms which were composed during the Babylonian Exile and also states that other psalms were written after Ezra’s return to Jerusalem. For example, Psalm 122:3 states: “Our feet are standing within thy gates, O Jerusalem. Jerusalem, that art builded as a city that is compact together.” According to Rashbam, these references to Jerusalem must date from after the return from exile.[17]

2. Here is a provocative passage quoted in the name of the hasidic master R. Uri of Strelisk (1757-1826).[18] Would any hasidic leader speak this way today?

והרה”ק מסטרעטן זצ”ל אמר משמו עה”פ שומר נפשות חסידיו מיד רשעים יצילם, שאמר: לפני ביאת המשיח יהיו רבי”ס רשעים גמורים ר”ל, אבל הן החסידים הם בתמימותם סוברים שרבם הוא עובד ה’ ולכן נוסעים אליו, לזאת התפלל דהמע”ה שומר נפשות חסידיו כי השי”ת ישמור את החסידים ומיד רשעים יצילם שלא שלא יכשלו ח”ו ברבי”ס כאלו

His comment was only applicable to the phony rebbes. But for an authentic rebbe it is worth travelling great distances and missing out on Torah and tefillah just to hear one bit of wisdom.[19]

אמר שיש ליסע לצדיק אמת אפילו אלפיים פרסאות ולבטל בהליכתו ובחזירתו מתורה ותפלה והכל כדי דיבור אחד של אמת אשר ישמע מפי צדיק אמת

3. Every year there is discussion about the moment of silence in Israel in memory of the soldiers and Holocaust victims, and we always hear about how this is not a Jewish thing to do. Here is a page from R. Ovadyah Hadaya’s Yaskil Avdi, vol. 6, p. 300 (hashmatot Yoreh Deah 2:2).

He regards the moment of silence as entirely appropriate, seeing it as similar to the silence in a house of mourning which shows acceptance of God’s decree.

See also my post here where I wrote that in November 1965 R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg gave a hesped for four recently deceased rabbis, among them R. Yerucham Warhaftig and R. Eliezer Yehudah Finkel. These latter two were good friends of R. Weinberg, and R. Weinberg’s friendship with R. Finkel went back to their youth. After the eulogy R. Weinberg asked everyone in the room to stand up. They stood silently for around ten seconds and then he asked them to sit down.

In this post I wrote: “I presume this was intended as a show of respect rather than as a moment of silence, since the latter could be done sitting down.” I now think that my statement is probably incorrect, because a moment of silence is also intended as a show of respect, i.e., the two are not in contradiction. In thinking of the story now, it appears that R. Weinberg’s request to stand in silence is really no different than what takes place in Israel.

4. A haredi biography on R. Isaac Blazer has recently appeared. Here is its title page.

Needless to say, R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg is quoted a good deal in the book. Here is page 410 which contains a picture of R. Weinberg.

 

The book does not mention that this picture first appeared on the Seforim Blog; see my post here.

In the quotations from R. Weinberg, the book has no problem making “improvements”. For example, R. Weinberg sometimes refers to R. Isaac Blazer as רי”ב, and the new book has altered this to הגרי”ב. R. Weinberg certainly regarded R. Blazer as a gaon, and he sometimes does refer to him as הגרי”ב. However, he did not feel that it was necessary to always refer to R. Blazer this way. The author of the book therefore decided to “correct” what R. Weinberg wrote. I guess this author (who is unnamed) did not think that R. Weinberg showed proper kavod to R. Blazer, which itself is a crazy thought.

Speaking of R. Weinberg and kavod, I think readers will find the following interesting. R. Weinberg stated: “We are all human. I too like kavod. I try not to chase after it, but if it is put on my plate, I will take it.”[20] How many other great rabbis would be honest enough to admit that they are not at the level of the Hafetz Hayyim and R. Elijah David Rabinowitz-Teomim,[21] and that they too like kavod? What R. Weinberg was saying is that this is normal and nothing to be ashamed of, and that for “mere mortals” what is important is not to chase after kavod.5. In my post here. I discussed Haym Soloveitchik’s newly published volume 2 of his collected essays. I neglected to mention that on pp. 285-287 he deals with R. Yitzchak Grossman’s criticism of one of his essays, criticism that appeared on the Seforim Blog here here. Soloveitchik shows his scholarly honesty in that he is prepared to acknowledge that in two of his criticisms Grossman is correct. He also responds to another criticism of Grossman, and I ask people to read what Soloveitchik says very carefully. It was precisely this sort of interpretation, now standard in the academy, that R. Samson Raphael Hirsch was so opposed to. You can be sure that if these words were stated by R. Dov Linzer or R. Ysoscher Katz, that a certain author, on a certain website, would go after them for “undermining the mesorah”.

Ben sorer u-moreh, according to the setam mishnah, nidon al shem sofo. This runs contrary to every principle in Jewish law and, indeed, in most Gentile law. People are executed for crimes that they have committed, not for crimes that they might commit–preventive detention for the criminally inclined perhaps, but preventive execution?! If I find tanna’im attempting to make the implementation of this law impossible, does it strain the imagination to think that they did so because it contradicts their elementary sense of right and wrong? I, for one, think not.

Rabbi Grossman argues that we find a similar ruling about nig’ei battim and there is no ethical problem in this realm. Indeed, there isn’t; however, no one claimed that all instances of “never was and never will be” (lo hayah ve-lo nivra) are a result of ethical issues. Only those in which we find this type of problem, such as ben sorer u-moreh and, to add to the roster, the “apostate city” (ir ha-niddahat) as R. Eliezer Berkovits has contended (as noted by R. Grossman). . . . An exegesis that makes execution of a law more difficult may be simply a matter of interpretation; an exegesis that makes execution impossible has that in mind to begin with. One plausible reason that one might have sought to render a Divine directive inoperable is that such a dictate appeared inconceivable for a just God.

6. I want to call readers attention to the recently published Kovetz ha-Mashbir, vol. 1, edited by Yissachar Dov Hoffman and Ovadyah Hoffman. This volume is devoted to the writings and teachings of R. Ovadiah Yosef and is full of valuable articles. It can be purchased at Biegeleisen.

More on R. Kook’s Recently Published Writings

by Marc B. Shapiro

In my post here here I mentioned that R. Kook argued that there is good reason to observe mitzvot even if one does not have a traditional view of the Torah’s authorship. On the one hand, there is nothing surprising in this. After all, would anyone tell a non-Orthodox Jew that it is OK if he eats on Yom Kippur?[1] R. Kook’s originality is therefore not seen in the bottom line, but in the argument he uses.[2] He notes that Maimonides and other medieval greats used arguments that they themselves did not accept in order to make religious points. For example, Maimonides used an argument that assumed the eternity of matter in order to prove the existence of God.[3] This was valuable in that those who accepted the former point would also be forced to acknowledge the latter point, i.e., God’s existence. Only then could he attempt to weaken the belief in eternity. Similarly, R. Kook is prepared to argue for the binding nature of Torah law even on the assumption that it was not given to Moses. This is valuable since, in his day at least, it was the acceptance of biblical criticism that encouraged people to give up the observance of mitzvot. If R. Kook can therefore show that even an acceptance of biblical criticism does not mean that there is no place for mitzvot, it will be a great achievement.[4]

R. Kook notes that traditional Jews observe rabbinic laws and even customs. His point is that these are regarded as valuable and help form the religious personality Yet no one believes that they were given to Moses by God. Why, then, should believers in biblical criticism not feel bound to other laws, which while traditionally seen as from Sinai, can also be regarded as rabbinic or even as customs (“folkways” in Mordecai Kaplan’s language). In other words, the mitzvot should be seen as having value regardless of their origin.

I have to say, however, that the weakness in R. Kook’s argument should be apparent. For those who accept the entire system, it makes sense that on top of the divinely revealed Torah laws, that rabbinic laws and customs are also added. But if one rejects the basis of Torah law, then the other two components simply fall away.

R. Kook picks up with his theme in a later passage.[5] Before dealing with the matter of biblical criticism, he briefly discusses the so-called dispute between science and Torah that caused so much difficulty in his day. In a passage that is very similar to one that appears in his letter to Moshe Seidel,[6] R. Kook explains that the Torah makes use of the “science” of its day, and writes about such matters in a simple and understandable fashion. The Torah makes no attempt at scientific accuracy (which would not have been understandable in earlier days). As R. Uri Sharki, a follower of R. Kook, puts it, the creation story (which contains great secrets) is presented in the language of myth בסגנון המיתי.[7] Most people today who have examined the matter accept this approach, but since the average person does not understand what myth is (seeing it as synonymous with fairy tale or legend), you don’t have a typical Orthodox rabbi using this language in his sermon on parashat Bereshit.

I have discussed this matter in detail in an earlier post here so there is no need to repeat what I have already said. Let me only add that the use of the term “science” in this context is not really accurate. What R. Kook is discussing is the early history of the universe, knowledge of which we have arrived at by means of science. R. Kook is saying that we should not treat the Torah’s descriptions as “history”, as that is not the Torah’s purpose. As I have pointed out in the post mentioned above, I believe that R. Kook’s approach was not only intended to answer problems dealing with the first chapters of Genesis but with any problems that might arise between what historians conclude and what appears to be the peshat in the Torah, e.g., the lifespans recorded in Scripture, the description of the Flood, and the huge number of people who took part in the Exodus, to mention just a few that are often discussed.[8]

Following this matter, R. Kook returns to the issue of Torah mi-Sinai. He states that even if one believes that the Torah was written after Moses or that the text has been corrupted, this does not affect his obligation to observe the mitzvot, since the acceptance of the Torah was dependent on its acceptance by the nation. Therefore, an individual cannot remove himself from this group. This is no different than a host of other matters where we say that an individual cannot choose a separate path from that which was decided by the group.[9]

Regarding the revelation of the Torah, it is important to also cite R. Kook’s words in Shemonah Kevatzim 1:633, about which an entire post could be written. I ask readers to focus carefully on the implications of what he says.

There is denial that is like an affirmation of faith, and an affirmation of faith akin to denial. A person can affirm the doctrine of the Torah coming from “heaven”, but with the meaning of “heaven” so strange that nothing of true faith remains. And a person can deny Torah coming from “heaven” where the denial is based on what the person has absorbed of the meaning of “heaven” from people full of ludicrous thoughts. Such a person believes that the Torah comes from a source higher than that! . . . Although that person may not have reached the point of truth, nonetheless this denial is to be considered akin to an affirmation of faith. . . . “Torah from Heaven” is but an example for all affirmations of faith, regarding the relationship between their expression in language and their inner essence, the latter being the main desideratum of faith.[10]

Since we are speaking about R. Kook, let me also call attention to a few more significant passages in the newly published Li-Nevokhei ha-Dor. I previously referred to this text which a few years ago was somehow illegally placed online. In 2014 R. Shahar Rahmani published the work with notes, and it is to this edition that everyone should now refer. In studying Li-Nevokhei ha-Dor, readers should remember that it was written before R. Kook came to the Land of Israel.

In chapter 13 R. Kook acknowledges that in a future era, when we will have a Sanhedrin, there will be a need for new derashot in halakhah, which will respond to the then current circumstances, something we at present cannot do. In this future era people will no longer be able to complain, as they do now, that the rabbinic obligations are not suitable for the current time. This is an acknowledgment that there are indeed aspects of rabbinic law that should, and will, be changed. But R. Kook falls back on the procedural problem of doing this prematurely, before the mechanism to do so exists (i.e., the Sanhedrin).

I have no reason to assume that R. Kook is speaking about the messianic era, since he does not mention this, instead writing about the “far off future”. Had he intended the messianic era, he would have said so. What this means is that when the Jews are once again dwelling in their land there is a possibility for the revival of a living halakhah, by means of a Sanhedrin which would create derashot. See, e.g., these two sentences, where he responds to suggestions by those living in Europe to alter halakhah. He insists that no changes in halakhah can take place at present, but it is significant that he does not mention the messianic era (and note the positive way he describes the רגש of the advocates of halakhic change). In other words, while haredim push off all such talk to the messianic era, R. Kook is not bound by such conservatism and could imagine halakhic change via a Sanhedrin in the pre-messianic era as well.

אבל הרוצה לדחוק את הקץ, ולהתנהג בדרישות שאנו חייבים ויכולים לקיימן רק בהיותינו בבית חיינו, גם לעת פזורינו ודלדולינו, ופורץ גדר של המרכז הלאומי הנשגב, התלמוד וחתימתו, בשביל קורת רוח של חיי שעה ודרישת אסתתיקא זמנית, הוא מחליף עולם קיים בעולם עובר בכלל האומה ומביא אנדרולומוסיא לעולם

ידעתי אמנם שהדעה הנשאה הזאת תוכל להיות למפגע לקלי דעת החפצים לדחוק את הקץ ורודפים את העתיד הרחוק בלא זמנו, אלה הם השועלים המחבלים, שאף שהרגשתם היא הרגשה רוממה ונעלה, אבל רוחם אינו רוח שוקט הראוי לכל איש ישר היודע את אשר לפניו

The future Sanhedrin will be able not only to overturn talmudic halakhot, but it will also be able uproot Torah laws if it finds it necessary. R. Kook further tells us that if the Sanhedrin is able to change our understanding of a biblical law by means of a derashah, it is not even to be regarded as an “uprooting.” It is by means of derashot that the Sanhedrin would be able to permanently alter the way of Torah observance. Consider for example the matter of women not being accepted as witnesses for certain matters. Rather than using apologetics to explain this to contemporary women, R. Kook’s approach allows people to say that indeed, this can be changed by a future Sanhedrin by means of a new derashah, but that today there can be no change since we do not have the mechanism to do so. The matter is thus turned into a technical problem rather than an ideological one.[11]

R. Kook also elaborates on the idea that the closing of the Talmud was a historical phenomenon brought on by the difficulties of the galut. But the Jewish people only accepted such a closure until the time that they returned to their land and the nation was once again rejuvenated.

Chapter 13 of Li-Nevokhei ha-Dor can stand alone as an essay. It is a very important statement of how R. Kook understood Jewish law, and I hope someone will translate it into English. I think what R. Kook was talking about is the same thing later advocated by R. Eliezer Berkovits, although I am not claiming that R. Kook would have supported Berkovits’ ideas as practical in our time. However, the concept that Berkovits was speaking about, of an Eretz Yisrael halakhah, is exactly what R. Kook had in mind.[12]

If this wasn’t enough, R. Kook has more to say in chapter 13. He discusses how the great stress on Talmud study in recent centuries has brought much that is positive to the Jewish people. However, he also notes the downside of this single-minded focus on Talmud study, a criticism that (for those who accept it) would be even more applicable in our day. He says that this focus on Talmud study has led to a weakness of the body for many students, a point already known from Orot. He also states that the Talmud-only curriculum has led people to be unaware of those secular studies that are indeed essential.[13]

חסרון המדעים הנחוצים לאדם באשר הוא אדם

Most interesting, however, is the additional problem R. Kook sees with the exclusive focus on Talmud study. He says that it has led to ethical problems, problems that arise when people spend their time focused only on halakhic details without seeing the broader picture, that of the heart which cannot be encompassed in halakhic details but only in a broad ethical vision.

וגם חסרונות מוסריים שבאו לרגלי התיחדות העסק השכלי רק בפרטי ודקדוקי הלכות מאין שם לב לרגשי לב והגיוני מוסר כלליים

R. Kook is quick to point out that it is not the study of Talmud per se that is responsible for the problem he mentions, but rather the single-minded focus on Talmud to the exclusion of all else, meaning that there is no room for secular studies, physical exercise, and exposure to the larger ethical teachings of the Torah.

אמנם כל המגרעות האלה לא באו לנו מצד השקידה על למוד התלמוד וקיומו, כי אם מצד ההפרזה הקיצונית על שלא הנחנו מקום לחלקי החינוך האחרים להכשרת החכמות והמדעים, לחוזק הגוף, להרחבת הדעה וההגיון המוסרי שבתורה, שעל זה כבר צוחו גם כן גדולי הדורות, ומקוצר רוח לא היה להם שומע

For good measure R. Kook adds that extremism, be it in actions or beliefs, is always bad for us.

והנטיה הקיצונית היא לעולם מכאבת בנו כל חלקה טובה, הקיצוניות בחינוך ובמעשים וכמו כן הקיצוניות בדעות

I will continue with more from Li-Nevokhei ha-Dor in future posts, but for now I would like to add one more comment about R. Kook. At least one reader is upset that I haven’t focused on R. Kook’s halakhic and talmudic writings, as he thinks that this is the main aspect of R. Kook, while his philosophical writings were only done on the side, as it were. This exact same point has been made with regard to R. Soloveitchik. That is, people have criticized certain academics for portraying the Rav as primarily a philosopher for whom his talmudic studies were a secondary element. In this case the criticism is certainly correct, as when it came to the Rav his talmudic studies were the main focus and it was his philosophical writings that were secondary.

Yet this is not the case when it comes to R. Kook. It is true that he was a great posek, however this was not where his heart was. In his inner essence he was a thinker and kabbalist, not a talmudist or halakhist. This is not just my own speculation. R. Kook himself said as much to both R. Reuven Margaliyot and R. Moshe Zvi Neriyah. Here is what he told R. Neriyah:[14]

שעה שחפץ היה הפילוסוף קנט להנפש מקצת ממחקריו הפילוסיפיים, עסק בגיאוגרפיה. וכך היה אומר: “מחמת שאני איש האבסטרקים, חש אני הרגשת-נופש וחילוף כחות כשאני מעיין בדברים מוצקים כגון: הר, נחל, עיר כפר וכדומה,” אף אני כך – ציין הרב – הרי אני מטבעי איש המחשבה והרגש, אולם בבואי להנפש, אני עוסק בהלכה ואני חש שרגלי עומדות על קרקע מוצק.

R. Kook told R. Margaliyot the same thing:[15]

מטבעי “בעל מחשבות” אנכי ושורש נשמתי היא “המחשבה”, וכשאני זקוק למנוחה והחלפת כוח הנני מתעסק בהלכה.

See also my post here where I discuss R. Kook’s belief that the nitty-gritty of halakhic study can have a negative effect on great people’s spiritual life. 

All that I have just mentioned is far removed from R. Soloveitchik’s understanding of the role of halakhic study and its place in his own spiritual personality.[16]

Based on what I have cited, we can also reject what Hillel Goldberg has written in a generally very positive review of Yehudah Mirsky’s new book on R. Kook.

R. Kook’s status as a major halakhic decisor was not just something added onto an already impressive resume. It was not just one more remarkable thing he did. It was of his essence. And the elevation and illumination it entailed were of a piece with, perhaps even a spur to – certainly not in opposition to – the strivings of his soul.[17]

These are very nice words by Goldberg, but the problem is that they are contradicted by none other than R. Kook himself who denies that halakhic study is “of his essence” and confesses that halakhic study was at times indeed in opposition to “the strivings of his soul.”

In previous posts I have quoted all sorts of amazing passages from R. Kook, and here is another one. It appears in Shemonah Kevatzim 2:34.

At the beginning of the passage R. Kook refers to those special tzaddikim who do not need to learn Torah or pray on a regular basis. (When he speaks of learning Torah he is referring to traditional talmudic learning.) That there are some individuals who are so close to God that they don’t need to learn is not that surprising, as one can find the idea in certain hasidic texts that learning Talmud removes one from devekut with God. Some hasidic texts also state that the tzaddik does not need to heed the proper times of prayer, as he is above time. Yet I don’t know if there are any hasidic texts that go as far as R. Kook in assuming that that since the tzaddik is so closely connected to God that he can go for weeks without praying. I assume all this was only theoretical for R. Kook. I stress this since when one studies the totality of his writings it is obvious that R. Kook includes himself among the special tzaddikim he speaks of.

Now look at how this passage appears in Arpilei Tohar,[18] p. 16. 

The words לפי מדרגתם have been added to the original. This entirely alters the passage’s meaning, turning it on its head. R. Kook is now saying that there are tzaddikim who only rarely need to learn or pray at their special level (meaning that on a daily basis they learn and pray at a lower level, like everyone else). This alteration completely removes the antinomian sense of the passage, since one reading Arpilei Tohar will have no way of knowing that in the original text R. Kook’s point was that the tzaddikim only rarely need to learn or pray at all.

There has been a great deal of discussion about the changes made in Arpilei Tohar, and how they subverted R. Kook’s original intent. In this example, however, it was R. Kook himself who made the change,[19] obviously because he regarded his initial formulation as too provocative to appear in print.

Returning to the matter of Torah mi-Sinai, I was recently asked the following question. In Genesis 46:23 it says ובני דן חושים. “And the sons of Dan: Hushim.”[20] Many commentators discuss why it says “the sons” and not “the son”, since only one son is mentioned.[21] We find the same issue in 1 Chronicles 2:7-8 where it states ובני כרמי and ובני איתן but in each case only one son is listed. The Malbim wrote a commentary on Chronicles entitled Yemei Kedem. In this commentary, ibid., he explains that Carmi and Eitan had more sons, but Ezra, the author of Chronicles, was simply copying this information from an earlier source and only gave the name of the son that was important for his purposes. However, he kept the earlier part of the sentence, which mentions “sons”, and in the original source from which he was quoting other sons’ names also appeared.

Say what you will about this explanation, there is nothing radical in it. However, following this the Malbim says that the phenomenon he just described also explains the verse in Gen. 46:23: ובני דן חושים as well as the verse in Num. 26:8: ובני פלוא אליאב. That is, there were other sons but “he” only included the names that were important for his purpose.[22]

The questioner wondered, who is the “he” that the Malbim is referring to? Is it possible that he has Ezra in mind? I find this most unlikely, as everything that I know about the Malbim argues against the notion that he could have thought that Ezra had a role in the writing of the Torah. This leads me to assume that when the Malbim writes ולא חשיב רק הצריך לו לענינו that he is referring to Moses, and saying that just like Ezra only included the information that he needed, so too Moses chose to leave off the additional names since it wasn’t important for the story he was telling. This preserves complete Mosaic authorship, which I believe the Malbim genuinely affirmed (i.e., I don’t think he is hinting to a more radical view here). 

Some will still see the Malbim’s explanation as problematic in that it assumes that Moses independently made choices about what to include in the Torah. But in truth, even from a traditional perspective this is not problematic, and no different from the many other sources that speak of Moses formulating passages in the Torah on his own. As I pointed out in Limits, p. 113, the traditional view has always been that God’s imprimatur, as it were, was later given to those words originally stated by Moses on his own. So too the Malbim would say that while Moses originally chose what to include here, when the Torah was later given to the Children of Israel this was done at God’s direction, and this is what sanctified the text. So there is really nothing radical about what the Malbim is saying.[23]

Regarding the Malbim, R. Mordechai E. Feuerstein shares the following from R. Soloveitchik.[24]

He told me about the Malbim, the great Torah commentator, who in 1834 paid a visit to the Chasam Sofer in Pressburg. The Malbim was a younger person, about twenty-five years old at that time, while the Chasam Sofer was at the zenith of his career, one of the greatest rabbanim of the 19th century and of the whole period of the Acharonim. The Chasam Sofer accorded much honor to the Malbim, seating him on his right side at the Shabbos table, enabling them to speak together at greater length.

Apparently, after the Shabbos-day meal, the Malbim was so engrossed in what he had heard from the Chasam Sofer that he wandered back to the shul, lost in thought. It was quite dark inside the empty shul, and the Malbim found a place to stand near what seemed to be a wall, and remained there in profound contemplation.

Later when the congregants began returning to shul for Mincha, they were stunned to see the Malbim standing near the aron, still deep in thought, right in the makom kavua of the Chasam Sofer! An angry murmur swept through the crowd; people were about to step forward to rebuke the Malbim when the Chasam Sofer walked in. Quickly sizing up the situation, he stopped them and said: Zol ehr blaiben shtayn (“Let him remain standing there”). The Malbim awoke from his trance and, horror-struck to discover that he had inadvertently been standing in the Chasam Sofer’s place, offered the Chasam Sofer profuse apologies, which were accepted.

For the rest of his life, the Rov told me, the Malbim used to sequester himself in a room for a period of time, right after Shabbos Mincha. Afterwards, he would emerge red-eyed from weeping. With the passage of years, he gradually came to interpret the Chasam Sofer’s words, Zol ehr blaiben shtayn as a punitive decree: Let him remain standing where he is now—his qualitative advance in Torah knowledge is over. Where he is now is where he will stay. The Malbim sensed that the divine gift of creative inspiration which he had experienced before his inadvertent slight to the honor of the Chasam Sofer, had been irrevocably taken away.

R. Hershel Schachter, Nefesh ha-Rav, pp. 251-252, also tells the story, as he heard it from R. Soloveitchik, and in his version there are some differences. To begin with, he records that the Malbim came to Pressburg to request a haskamah on his halakhic work Artzot ha-Hayyim, which the Hatam Sofer provided. According to R. Schachter’s version, the mistake happened not when the Malbim returned to the synagogue before minhah, but when he returned for maariv. Furthermore, the Malbim was not standing in the Hatam Sofer’s place, but actually sat in his seat. As he explains, this was an understandable mistake as it was dark and throughout Shabbat he has been sitting in the seat next to that of the Hatam Sofer. When one of the laypeople tried to point out to the Malbim that he was in the Hatam Sofer’s seat, the latter was so involved in his learning that he did not even realize that someone was speaking to him. It was then that the Hatam Sofer said to leave him be. From that time on the Malbim’s main area of hiddush was in the study of Tanakh but not in halakhah[25]:

וכאילו לשונו של הח”ס שאמר לו “שישאר שמה” היה מוסבת על דרגת הלימוד שלו, שלא יעלה עוד הלאה בהלכה

* * * *

I was hoping to discuss the recent political developments that revolve around R. Meir Mazuz, but I see that the post is already quite long as it is. I will therefore postpone this discussion until a future post.