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PARASHAT VAETCHANAN / TISHA B'AV

 

BY DAVID SILVERBERG

 

 

Among the halakhot that apply on Tisha B'Av is the prohibition against Torah study, as this brings a person joy (Ta'anit 30a).  One may, however, read the less joyous areas of Torah, such as the halakhot of mourning, Iyov, Eichah, and the prophecies of catastrophe in Sefer Yirmiyahu. 

            The question arises, is one obligated to study the permissible material on Tisha B'Av?  Meaning, does the prohibition against Torah study on Tisha B'Av effectively suspend the obligation of Torah study for that day, only that one may, if he so desires, study these areas?  Alternatively, does the mitzva requiring Torah learning remain in effect, only becoming limited to a very restricted corpus of literature?  The Kaf Ha-chayim cites an earlier source as presenting a clear, succinct answer: "If one wishes not to learn at all, he may, and we do not say that once it is permitted [to learn certain areas] he may not refrain from the words of Torah."  This ruling does not, however, sanction idleness or general activity on Tisha B'Av.  The Bei'ur Halakha (553) cites the following from the Ma'amar Mordekhai: "If I were not afraid from my colleagues I would say that even on Tisha B'Av itself we should be lenient [and permit regular Torah study], since, in our abundance of sins, the generations have deteriorated and on Tisha B'Av itself people stroll in the marketplace and engage in idle talk.  Even those proficient in study and a few among those who learn are lenient in this regard.  It is obvious that under such circumstances it is preferable for them to learn."

            Another issue that arises in the context of this halakha relates to the depth of study permitted even within the areas excluded from the prohibition.  That is, may one indulge in intensive inquiry in the laws of mourning ("pilpul" or "lomdus") or "dig one's teeth" into the sections of Tanakh permitted by halakha?  The Taz and Magen Avraham, cited as authoritative by the Mishna Berura, forbid intensive study and allow only superficial review of the material.  The Arukh Ha-shulchan, however, rules more leniently.  He notes that it is impossible for a learned scholar not to engage in questioning and answering as he studies, and this cannot be forbidden.  Rather, explains the Arukh Ha-shulchan, all Torah study brings one a certain degree of joy and fulfillment.  Halakha allows the study of certain, saddening areas of Torah because the distressing nature of the content will neutralize the joy inherent in the study.  This "balancing" occurs regardless of the level of intensity, and thus even in-depth learning is permitted.  However, in his treatment of the laws of mourning, the Arukh Ha-shulchan mentions that one should not intentionally plan on sitting down for an intensive discourse on material taken from the permissible areas.

            A particularly jarring comment relevant to this topic is cited (by Rav Shlomo Yosef Zevin, in his Ishim Ve-shitot) from Rav Yosef Rosen, the Gaon of Rogochov.  He would continue his normal learning regimen on Tisha B'Av and during personal mourning periods.  When questioned as to this practice which seemingly ran contrary to normative halakha, the Gaon responded by acknowledging the halakhic violation involved.  "But," he said, "Torah is worth being punished for."  Although some basis for his continued learning may arise from the Yerushalmi (in Moed Katan), which allows one who "burns for Torah" to study on Tisha B'Av, the authorities by and large have not accepted this ruling as practically applicable.  Not to mention that the Rogochover Gaon's comment raises broader issues as to the nature of halakha and the like, which clearly lie beyond the scope of our discussion and the qualifications of this author.  In any event, it would appear that one should restrict his learning on Tisha B'Av to the material specified by the poskim.  If, however, one feels that refraining from his usual learning will result in time-wasting, then, according to the aforementioned passage of the Ma'amar Mordekhai, perhaps it is preferable for him to study as usual.

(Sources taken from Torah La-da'at: "Uve-yom Simchatekhem Uve-mo'adeikhem," pp:231-5)

 

*****

 

            On Tisha B'Av day, many things change after "chatzot" (midday).  It is at this point where halakha permits us to rise from the floor and sit on comfortable chairs and benches.  Whereas men recite shacharit and kinot without tefillin, they wear tefillin for the recitation of mincha.  The decor of the synagogues also improves considerably at this point.  The "parokhet" (ark-covering) is returned to the aron kodesh, as are the customary coverings of the lectern and "bima" to their appropriate places.  The lights, which we dim with the onset of Tisha B'Av, are turned back on.  A dramatic change occurs in our liturgy, as well.  At shacharit, we read the Torah's prediction of exile in Parashat Vaetchanan, and for the haftara, we read - usually in the doleful, "Eikha" melody - Yirmiyahu's painful, prophetic depiction of the destruction.  At mincha, we return to the standard service conducted on all "ta'aniyot tzibur" (public fasts).  We read the comforting account of God's having forgiven Benei Yisrael for the golden calf and the famous "thirteen attributes of mercy," by which we have the opportunity to earn atonement and favor despite our sinful past.  The haftara, too, speaks of the encouraging prospect of teshuva and God's insistence that anyone from any background has the ability to change and win the Almighty's grace.  Additionally, though many different customs exist in this regard, most communities insert the special "nachem" paragraph only at mincha, expressing our longing and desire for God's comfort.

            All these differences between the two halves of Tisha B'Av reflect a fundamental change of focus at midday.  The first half of Tisha B'Av is about mourning; the operative word is "eikha" - "how could this happen?!"  We sit on the floor in hopelessness and despair, capable of nothing else than thinking of what we had that has now been lost.  There is no comfort or any reason for optimism.  But while desperation emerges as the dominant theme of the evening and morning of Tisha B'Av, teshuva takes over as the primary goal of the afternoon.  Tisha B'Av suddenly becomes akin to any other fast day.  (Strictly speaking, all public fast days should have the same restrictions as Tisha B'Av and Yom Kippur; the communities only accepted the abstention from food and drink given the difficulty involved.)  We focus not on hopelessness, but on the prospect of return, restoration and rebuilding.  Now we can rise from the floor and ask God to comfort us, promising to do our share - sincere introspection and repentance.

The Mishna Berura explains (citing from earlier sources) that, ironically enough, we mitigate the mourning practices in the afternoon specifically because the Temple burned in the afternoon.  The Midrash writes that the Almighty's having vented His anger, so-to-speak, on wood and stone rather than on His people themselves serves as a source of comfort.  On the afternoon of Tisha B'Av we recognize that our very existence, and perhaps the very fact that we still mourn an ancient building, gives us reason for hope.  Benei Yisrael's survival throughout centuries of hostile conditions transforms the anguish and despair of Tisha B'Av morning into the hope and commitment represented by the afternoon.  With hopeful eyes we look to God and proclaim, "For You, God, has ignited it with fire, and with fire You will, in the future, build it."

David Silverberg

 

*****

 

            This Shabbat we read the famous haftara after which the Shabbat is named, "Nachamu."  The prophet Yeshayahu calls for the consolation of Am Yisrael, that the nation be told "that her term of service is over, that her iniquity is expiated; for she has received at the hand of God double for all her sins" (Yeshayahu 40:2).  The prophet here comforts the downtrodden nation with the knowledge that the suffering they endured amounts to twice the punishments warranted by their misdeeds.  The obvious question arises, why did they receive a punishment so severely disproportionate to their wrongdoing?  How could the Almighty have brought upon them more suffering than they deserved?

            As we find elsewhere in Tanakh, punishment for wrongdoing can become more severe as a result of the specific circumstances surrounding the sin.  For example, it may be argued that a thief harms his victim only slightly more - if at all - than the value of the stolen property itself.  Yet, the Torah fines a thief - in some instances - with a required payment of twice the item's value, a fine that does not apply to cases of intentional property damage, for example.  Given the particular gall of theft, the Torah saw fit to punish the criminal far more than the crime itself.  Similarly, after the incident involving David and Batsheva, the prophet admonishes the king by drawing an analogy between his misdeed and a wealthy man who steals the lone sheep of his poor neighbor.  David immediately issues a death sentence against such a thief.  Once again, the unique circumstances intensify the severity of punishment.  Indeed, in the "tokhecha" section in Parashat Bechukotai, where we read of the disasters that could befall Benei Yisrael should they disobey the Torah, God repeats several times over that He will punish the people "sevenfold" for their sins.  If the nation does not repent after the initial punishments, then their continued disobedience will bring upon even harsher decrees.  Here, too, Benei Yisrael face disproportionately severe punishment due to a particular situation, their failure to answer God's call to teshuva.

            In a broader sense, Benei Yisrael always run the risk of harsh punishment at the hands of the Almighty as a result of their unique relationship with Him, a bond characterized by the eternal covenant between the two parties.  Any misdeed committed by Benei Yisrael involves not only the crime itself, but a breach of this sacred bond, a violation of the special agreement between God and His people.  Given the abundance of kindness God has bestowed upon Am Yisrael, their misconduct warrants especially harsh punishment.

            Therefore, with the destruction of the Beit He-mikdash, Benei Yisrael were indeed punished "double," and the prophet thus calls for a doubly reinforced process of comfort and consolation: "Comfort, comfort My nation… "

 

(Based on Rav Amnon Bazak's column in Shabbat Be-Shabbato, Shabbat Nachamu 5760)

David Silverberg

 

*****

 

            Parashat Vaetchanan features the first of the three paragraphs of shema recited twice daily.  The third verse of this parasha (6:7) instructs, "Ve-shinantam le-vanekha," which is generally translated as, "You shall teach them to your children."  In his Hilkhot Talmud Torah, the Rambam, based on the Gemara, cites this verse as the source of an important halakha.  After introducing the obligation upon every father to teach his son Torah, the Rambam adds, "And not only one's son and grandson, but there is a mitzva upon every scholar among Yisrael to teach students even though they are not his children, as it says, 'Ve-shinantam le-vanekha.'  Tradition teaches that 'banekha' ['your sons'] refers to students."

            Interestingly, however, the Gemara understands this verse as introducing another obligation, as well, that of acquiring proficiency in Torah scholarship: "'Ve-shinantem' - that words of Torah shall be sharp in your mouth, that if someone asks you something you do not stammer and answer, but rather tell him immediately."  As Rashi there explains, the Gemara derives from this verse the obligation to constantly study and review in order to achieve mastery over the Torah.  What relationship is there between the two halakhot derived from this verse, that of teaching students and the acquisition of proficiency?

            The second obligation, to become an expert in Torah, does not rest upon the shoulders of all Jews.  After all, not everyone has the ability to become a Torah sage.  It rather applies to the scholars, those blessed with the talents necessary to achieve proficiency in Torah knowledge.  Therefore, the mitzva as it regards teaching cannot possibly refer to one's children; after all, not every parent and not every child possesses the tools required for this level of expertise.  Therefore, the Rambam understood, this obligation to teach is separate from the general halakha requiring every father to provide his child with a Torah education.  It rather calls upon erudite and talented scholars to perpetuate the rich tradition of intensive, advanced Torah study by training gifted students to study at an advanced level.

            This distinction, between the obligation of all parents and that specifically of scholars, explains an interesting halakhic difference drawn by the Rambam.  In Hilkhot Talmud Torah 1:3, the Rambam rules that whereas one must pay money for the sake of his children's Torah education, one need not - strictly speaking, that is - provide funding on behalf of the learning of other children.  The obligation of a parent is to ensure their child's religious education; he must therefore do whatever necessary towards that end.  As for teaching others, this obligation rests only upon the scholars, as we saw.  Quite reasonably, then, they cannot fulfill their obligation by hiring others to teach on their behalf.  They must rather personally accept the responsibility of disseminating advanced-level Torah study to as many students as they can.

 

(Based on Rabbi Menachem Genack, Shoshanat Ha-amakim, p.1.)

David Silverberg

 

*****

 

            Parashat Vaetchanan introduces us to the prohibition of "bal tosif," adding onto mitzvot (Devarim 4:2).  What does this prohibition include?  Rashi writes that this verse forbids adding onto the performance of a mitzva, such as adding a fifth parasha to one's tefillin or a fifth species to the "arba minim" on Sukkot.  The Ramban cites Rashi's interpretation and adds, "In my view, even one who makes up on his own an independent mitzva, such as if one makes up a holiday in a given month, as did Yeravam, violates the prohibition."  According to the Ramban, then, this prohibition includes two forms of additions: adding onto the performance of a given mitzva, and the creation of a new mitzva.

            The Rambam likewise appears to recognize this second category of "bal tosif."  In Hilkhot Mamrim 2:9, the Rambam distinguishes between two types of enactment by the High Court, or Bet Din Ha-gadol.  Standard legislation and lawmaking are permissible and, moreover, an integral function served by the nation's supreme halakhic body.  What the court may not do, the Rambam writes, is introduce a new law and establish it as Torah law.  The Rambam gives the example of meat and milk, the join consumption of which, as we know, is forbidden by Torah law.  Chazal instituted as a safeguard to this prohibition a halakha forbidding the consumption of foul with milk.  Were they to have done so by claiming that the Torah itself forbids eating chicken meat with milk, they would have violated the prohibition of "bal tosif."  Clearly, the Rambam, like the Ramban, views the introduction of a new law as a violation of this prohibition.

            Rav Soloveitchik (Reshimot Shiurim - Masekhet Sukka) observed, however, that the Rambam limits this prohibition to the level of Bet Din.  While the Ramban claims that anyone who innovates a new "mitzva" violates "bal tosif," the Rambam appears to apply this form of "bal tosif" only to a Bet Din, not to ordinary individuals.  Why?

            Rav Soloveitchik explained that individuals are not empowered to lend halakhic significance to halakhically meaningless actions.  A person may decide to institute a new "mitzva" requiring him to sing his country's national anthem every day at noon, but by definition, this ritual cannot possibly be considered an addition to the Torah.  Nothing has infused it with a stature rendering it a prohibited innovation.  Only the Bet Din Ha-gadol, who is empowered to interpret the Torah and thereby deduce the relevant halakhic rulings for its generation, can introduce a mitzva with authoritative stature.  Such an innovation violates the Torah's prohibition of "bal tosif."

            The Ramban, apparently, is not bothered by the meaninglessness of a privately ordained innovation.  To the contrary, he may have viewed the prohibition as specifically intended to prevent religious anarchy, by which any individual can write his own laws.  In his view, "bal tosif" comes to outlaw religious subjectivity of any kind, as this could, ultimately, undermine the authority of the Torah, which would, Heaven forbid, give way to personal, man-made rules and regulations.

David Silverberg

 

*****

 

            Parashat Vaetchanan opens with Moshe's unsuccessful petition to the Almighty to allow him to enter Eretz Yisrael: "O Lord God, You have begun showing Your servant Your greatness and Your mighty hand, that Your powerful deeds no god in heaven or on earth can equal.  Let me, I pray, cross over and see the good land… " (Devarim 3:24-25).  In Masekhet Berakhot 32, the Gemara derives from the structure of Moshe's petition the proper sequence for our standardized prayer.  Namely, we first speak of God's praises and only thereafter proceed to plead our case and submit our request.  Thus, the first three blessings of our shemoneh esrei discuss God's kindness, power and singular sanctity.  After these introductory berakhot we arrive at the main body of the shemoneh esrei, the specific requests for wisdom, forgiveness, redemption, health, etc.

            Rav Moshe Feinstein questioned the reasoning behind such a requirement.  True, when submitting a request to a fellow human being it is worthwhile to first engage in some flattery as a means to earn his favor.  But why do we employ this trick when addressing the King of kings, the all-powerful and all-knowing Master of the world?  Will magnificent praises of His strength result in greater efficacy of our prayers?!

            Rav Moshe explains by describing the attitude with which we must approach prayer.  Before asking a friend for a favor, we understand that the friend may not have the ability to grant the request.  For example, if Reuven wants to invite himself over to Shimon's house for Shabbat the 20th, he understands that on that day Shimon may have a full house or that he has planned to spend that weekend out of town.  This degree of uncertainty accompanies virtually every request we make of another.  As we approach the Almighty, however, we must think differently.  Nobody may come forth with a request to the Almighty unless he fully believes and understands that God possesses unlimited capability to either grant or refuse the petition.  Such a mindset is indispensable to Jewish prayer.  Following Moshe's example, Chazal instituted that we begin our shemoneh esrei by reminding ourselves of God's unlimited capacity and willingness to give.  Only thereafter may we proceed to submit our requests.

            As an example of how far many of us remain from the necessary perspective on prayer, Rav Moshe observes an all-too-common phenomenon with regard to prayers for the ill.  Very often, loved ones turn to the Almighty only after the doctors have given a bleak diagnosis.  So long as the patient's condition did not alarm the medical staff, God did not enter the picture.  Only after the first signs of hopelessness set in do the friends and relatives turn to God as a last resort.  Rav Moshe admonishes, "This is not the way.  Rather, from the outset one must say Tehillim to God and realize that only He cures, though He does so through messengers."  From the structure of tefila we are reminded of God's exclusive control over world events, and everything that transpires does so only by His will.

 

David Silverberg

 

*****

 

            The reading of Parashat Vaetchanan affords us the opportunity to take a careful look at the verses of the first paragraph of shema, which appears in this parasha, and hopefully enhance our daily recitation of this critical part of our liturgy.

            The third verse of this paragraph reads, "These words, that I command you today, shall be upon your heart."  Rashi views the seemingly innocuous word "hayom" (today) in this verse as providing crucial information as to the meaning of this imperative: "They shall not be in your eyes like an antiquated ordinance that no one cherishes, but rather like a new one, that everyone runs to greet."  Placing God's commandments "on our hearts" involves a proper attitude towards them, viewing them as "new."  We must strive to look upon the mitzvot as the most precious gift in the world, the great privilege of living under the system of God's law.  Rav Soloveitchik, in a lecture delivered in the 1950's, described this feeling towards Torah as follows:

"When I say that the Jewish community is emotionally involved in talmud Torah and the great message, God's Word becomes a precious treasure, something which lends meaning and purposeness to one's existence, or a great vision which captivates the imagination, that stirs the soul, and gives me a feeling of happiness and pleasure, and actually sometimes fills me with ecstasy, when I think that I'll realize the great goal.  One not only abides by the Word, by the norm, but loves it; it's a question of loving the Word, not only abiding but loving.  He's not only committed to it, but also devoted and passionately attached to the Word.  In a word, the carigma becomes the central value around which one's axiological system revolves, the focus of all emotions and sentiments, and it is the highest good after which one feels a deep yearnaing and a great longing."

            Rav Soloveitchik's grandfather, Rav Chayim of Brisk, is cited as offering a different approach towards the significance of the reference to "today" in this verse.  Rav Chayim explained that one's obligations towards the Almighty on any given day differs from those on the previous or next day.  As external situations and circumstances, as well as one's personal growth and development, undergo change, so do his responsibilities.  Therefore, at any point one must identify the unique obligations resting upon his shoulders at that moment; for one day's work will not be the same as the next.

 

David Silverberg 

 

 

 

To see this year's S.A.L.T. selections:

 

www.vbm-torah.org/salt.htm


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To see this year's S.A.L.T. selections:

 

www.vbm-torah.org/salt.htm


This shiur is provided courtesy of the Virtual Beit Midrash, the premier source of online courses on Torah and Judaism - 14 different courses on all levels, for all backgrounds.

MakeJewish learning partof your week on a regular basis - enroll in the
Virtual Beit Midrash


(c) YeshivHar EtzioAll rights reserved to Yeshivat Har Etzion

Yeshivat Har Et
Alon Shvut, Israel, 90433
office@etzion.org.il