The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

by Rav David Silverberg

Parashat Re'ei introduces and discusses the laws of shemitat kesafim – the cancellation of debts on the shemita ("sabbatical") year. The Torah anticipated that in light of the prohibition against claiming debts after the shemita year, potential lenders might refuse to offer loans shortly before the shemita year, as their money may very well never be returned. The Torah therefore issues a special prohibition against refusing a loan request out of this concern: "Beware lest you harbor the base thought, 'The seventh year, the year of remission, is approaching,' so that you are mean to your needy kinsman and give him nothing" (15:9). The Torah demands that despite the risk of losing one's money, he should "give to him readily and have no regrets… for in return the Lord your God will bless you in all your efforts and in all your undertakings" (15:10).

The Gemara in Masekhet Ketubot (68a) takes note of the term "beliya'al" (translated here as "base") with which this verse describes the decision to refuse a loan as the shemita year approaches. Earlier in Parashat Re'ei, the Torah uses this same word to describe people who persuade a city's inhabitants to worship idols: "If you hear it said… that some 'benei beliya'al' [wicked people]… have gone and subverted the inhabitants of their town, saying, 'Come let us worship other gods'" (13:13-14). Based on this parallel, the Gemara concludes, "One who turns a blind eye to charity is considered as having worshipped idols." The fact that the Torah describes the refusal of a loan request with the same word used in reference to the ir nidachat (idolatrous city) points to some kind of equation between these two sins.

Wherein lies the connection between ignoring the poor and idolatry? We present here several approaches cited in the work "Likutei Batar Likutei" to Masekhet Ketubot. As we will see, each explanation touches upon a different mistaken outlook that might cause one to neglect the needs of the poor.

The Maharal of Prague suggested that the connection may be found in the aforementioned verses concerning shemita. The Torah describes an individual who is "mean to your needy kinsman." This emphasis on kinship, the Maharal explains, is what renders insensitivity to poor Jews comparable or tantamount to idolatry. A Jew who sees his fellow Jews as his brethren would certainly not turn a blind eye to their needs and financial troubles. If he does refuse to help them, he in effect declares that he does not consider them his brethren. By extension, then, such a person, in a certain sense, separates himself from Am Yisrael and does not see himself as part of the Jewish nation. The Gemara considers this dissociation from the Nation of Yisrael tantamount to dissociation from the God of Israel, and hence likens the insensitive Jew to an idolater, to someone who rejects the Almighty.

According to the Maharal, then, the Gemara refers to someone who refuses to help Jews in need out of a sense of alienation, a lack of awareness of the kinship that binds all Jews together and renders them responsible for each other's welfare and security.

The Yismach Moshe explains, quite simply, that refusing to help the poor is, in many cases, a result of arrogance, of the person's feeling that he is too important to assist members of the lower classes. Thus, this Gemara is but a natural extension of the famous rabbinic dictum equating arrogance with idolatry. A person who prides himself excessively clearly lacks an understanding of the greatness of God, and is hence comparable to an idolater, who reduces the concept of God to worthless pieces of stone and wood. Therefore, someone who feels too important to assist the poor may similarly be compared to an idolater.

This approach, of course, focuses on a different cause of insensitivity – an exaggerated sense of self-worth, which leads one to believe that he deserves to keep his resources for himself, rather than share them with those in need.

In a slightly different vein, the Yalkut Gershuni interprets the Gemara as referring to a different phenomenon, described by a famous verse in Parashat Eikev: "My own power and the might of my own hand have won this wealth for me" (8:17). A person might refuse to share his wealth simply because he worked for it, and it thus, in his mind, rightfully belongs to him. Had he acknowledged that "it is the Lord your God who gives you the power to get wealth" (8:18), he would understand that a person's hard earned money does not necessarily belong to him. It came to him as a gift from God, and he must therefore use it in the manner prescribed by God's law, which requires lending and giving to the poor. A person who does not acknowledge God's role in his accumulation of wealth indeed violates a form of idolatry, as he denies his dependence on the Almighty for his success.

The Ein Eliyahu points to a different cause for insensitivity, which is explicitly mentioned in this verse in Parashat Re'ei: the fear of financial loss. People refuse to share their wealth out of concern for their financial future. Such a fear, the Ein Eliyahu claims, reflects a lack of faith in God's promise of reward. Questioning God's ability to repay kindness with kindness, the Gemara teaches, is tantamount to idolatrous beliefs.

Finally, the Yalkut Yehoshua suggests that the Gemara speaks of refusing to help the poor due to the assumption that fate has condemned the underprivileged to a life of poverty. A wealthy person might conveniently presume that his kinsman in need is predestined to live a life of economic hardship, and thus giving charity serves no purpose. The Gemara informs us that this doctrine of predetermination is akin to idolatry. No person's fate is ever sealed beyond God's ability to change it. We must therefore do what we can to help, and leave the recipient's fate in the capable hands of the Almighty.

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Yesterday, we discussed the concept of "shemitat kesafim" – the remission of all debts on the shemita ("sabbatical") year, as the Torah establishes in Parashat Re'ei (15:1-2). As we saw, the Torah warns against refusing to grant a loan prior to the shemita year out of concern that the money will be lost. A person must rather be willing to grant a loan even if it appears likely that the money will not be returned to him before the shemita year. This prohibition is counted by the Rambam as one of the 613 mitzvot in the Torah (lo ta'aseh 231; see also Sefer Ha-chinukh, 480).

Conceptually, one can view this prohibition in one of two ways. On the one hand, one might view it within the context of the general mitzva to lend money to the poor. The Torah writes in Parashat Mishpatim, "If you lend money to My people… " (Shemot 22:24). The Mekhilta comments that the word "im" ("if") in this verse should actually be interpreted as referring to an obligation, rather than an optional measure of kindness. Thus, the Rambam counts as the 197^th mitzvat asei the obligation "to lend to the poor person in order to alleviate his poverty" (see also Sefer Ha-chinukh, 66 and Shulchan Arukh, C.M. 97). Perhaps, in Parashat Re'ei the Torah adds a specific provision pertaining to this obligation, namely, that one may not withhold a loan out of fear of never seeing the money again. Alternatively, one might view this prohibition not as an adjunct to the obligation to lend to the poor, but rather as part of the framework of shemitat kesafim. Meaning, the laws of shemita require not only the cancellation of debts on the seventh year, but also to continue lending money even as the seventh year approaches. As the Lechem Mishneh writes (Hilkhot Malveh Ve-loveh 1:1), one who refuses to lend out of concern for the onset of shemita "appears as though he kicks his Creator." According to this approach, one may not refuse a loan before shemita because it demonstrates a begrudging attitude towardsthe shemita obligation. This prohibition must thus be seen within the context of the laws of shemita, rather than within the context of the obligation to lend.

This conceptual question appears to be subject to a debate between the Rambam and Rabbenu Yona. In his Sha'arei Teshuva (3:67), Rabbenu Yona writes that anytime one refuses to lend money to a poor person, he violates this prohibition mentioned in Parashat Re'ei. Although the specific context of the prohibition is refusing a loan out of concern for losing the money, the prohibition is not limited to this situation. Rather, the Torah introduces the prohibition in the context of a circumstance where it is likely to be violated, but in truth, it obtains under all circumstances. Clearly, then, Rabbenu Yona viewed this prohibition as pertaining to the general obligation to loan money to the poor. The Torah chose shemitat kesafim as the appropriate context to introduce this prohibition, but in truth, it bears no inherent connection to shemita whatsoever. Consequently, one violates this prohibition any time he refuses to grant a loan to a person in need.

The Rambam clearly felt otherwise. For one thing, the Rambam discusses this prohibition in Hilkhot Shemita Ve-yovel (9:30) – amidst his presentation of the laws of shemitat kesafim, rather than in Hilkhot Malveh Ve-loveh – the section dealing with loans, where he mentions the obligation to give loans (1:1). Additionally, the Rambam formulates this prohibition as follows: "One who refuses to lend to his fellow before the shemita year [out of concern] lest his debt remain unpaid and be remitted, transgresses a lo ta'aseh… " Clearly, the Rambam viewed this prohibition as a specific provision within the laws of shemita. Unlike Rabbenu Yona, who considers any refusal to grant a loan a violation of this prohibition, the Rambam maintains that one violates this law only if he refuses before, and due to, the onset of shemita.

Furthermore, the Rambam writes that one violates this prohibition if before shemita he refuses "to lend to his fellow." It is revealing that the Rambam speaks about lending one's "fellow," and not "a poor person." This, too, reflects the Rambam's approach to this prohibition. Since this halakha has to do with the laws of shemita, rather than with the obligation to lend money to the poor, it is violated regardless of the requestor's financial status. Rabbenu Yona, by contrast, explicitly speaks of refusing to lend to a poor person. Since he views this prohibition within the context of the general obligation to lend money to the poor, it obviously refers only to refusing the request of a person in need.

Another practical ramification of this debate involves an issue we discussed in our S.A.L.T. series to Parashat Re'ei last year – whether or not this prohibition applies nowadays. It is generally assumed that nowadays, when the majority of world Jewry resides outside the Land of Israel, shemitat kesafim applies only on the level rabbinic enactment; the Torah obligation does not apply, since the agricultural laws of shemita do not apply on the level of Torah law. As we saw last year, Rav Yechiel Michel Tuketchinsky held that if the Torah obligation of shemitat kesafim does not apply, then certainly the accompanying prohibition against refusing loan requests before shemita also does not apply. He clearly accepted the Rambam's outlook, that this prohibition directly relates to the halakha of shemitat kesafim. By contrast, Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach argued that the prohibition forbids refusing a loan because of "false, imaginary concerns." It therefore makes no difference whether the anticipated remission of the debt will occur due to Torah law or rabbinic enactment. The moment a person refuses a debt out of fear of losing the money, he has violated this prohibition. This approach clearly corresponds to the position of Rabbenu Yona, that this prohibition is not inherently connected to shemita, and relates instead to the general obligation to lend money to the poor.

(Based on Rav Shemuel Eliezer Stern's "Shevivei Eish al Ha-Torah," Parashat Re'ei)

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Yesterday, we discussed the prohibition introduced in Parashat Re'ei (15:9) forbidding a potential lender from withholding a loan out of concern for the approaching shemita ("sabbatical") year, which cancels all debts. We showed that according to the Rambam (as opposed to Rabbenu Yona), this prohibition is entirely independent of the standard obligation to lend money to those in need. It is rather to be seen as part of the framework of shemitat kesafim (the remission of debts in the shemita year), which requires one to cancel his debt in the shemita year and yet agree to lend money without concern, despite the possibility of incurring substantial loss. Thus, a person who refuses to lend money for some other reason does not violate this prohibition. He fails to fulfill the general mitzva to lend to the poor, but does not transgress this particular halakha that applies exclusively with respect to shemitat kesafim.

In light of this position taken by the Rambam, several Acharonim have questioned his comments towards the beginning of Hilkhot Malveh Ve-loveh, as he introduces the mitzva of lending to the poor. He writes, "The Torah deals very harshly with one who refrains from lending the poor, as it says, '[beware… lest… ] you are mean to your needy kinsman etc.'" As evidence of the particular severity of withholding loans, the Rambam invokes a clause from the verse in our context – the prohibition against refusing to lend before shemita. But as we demonstrated yesterday, the Rambam clearly distinguishes between the general obligation to lend to the poor and this specific prohibition regarding shemita. How, then, can he draw proof to the importance of lending from the Torah's strongly-worded remarks regarding shemita?

The work "Mayan Ha-chokhma" suggests that the Rambam adds this passage to demonstrate that one should not prefer to lend only to the wealthy. As we can imagine, a person might be willing to lend only to those with considerable holdings because he can rest assured that his money will be repaid, while lending to a poor person entails the risk of losing the money permanently. The Rambam invokes the prohibition concerning shemita as proof to the fact that the Torah forbids denying someone a loan out of fear that the money will never be returned. Hence, one may not decide to lend money only to the rich and not to the poor.

However, besides the somewhat stretched reading of the Rambam this approach entails, it also assumes that proof is needed for this halakha, that one should not show preference to the rich when it comes to money-lending. But as the "Minchat Solet" (a work on the Sefer Ha-chinukh) points out, nowhere does the Rambam give any indication that one fulfills a mitzva by lending money to a wealthy person. Throughout his discussion of the mitzva to lend, the Rambam speaks only of lending to the poor. It is hard to imagine, then, that he would need to find proof to the fact that one should prefer to lend to the poor rather than to the rich. This point should be obvious, given that the mitzva of lending requires lending only to the poor.

The Minchat Solet thus suggests a different explanation of the Rambam's comments. He writes that the Rambam invokes the verse regarding shemita to show that the mitzva to lend to the poor requires one to be willing to lend even large amounts of money. Presumably, a person would want to refuse a loan request before shemita only if the applicant requested a sizeable loan. If a poor person requested a modest loan, most people would grant the request even at the risk of losing the money, since the Torah in any event requires giving charity. Therefore, the fact that the Torah foresaw the likelihood of a wealthy person refusing to lend to a poor person before shemita shows that the mitzva to lend money requires even large sums. Alternatively, the Minchat Solet suggests, that Rambam sought to prove from this verse that one must be willing to lend even without receiving collateral. When a loais given on collateral, the obligation of shemitat kesafim does not apply. Necessarily, then, the Torah's discussion in Parashat Re'ei of the obligation to lend even before shemita refers to a loan given without collateral. The Torah's insistence that one grant loans before shemita thus proves that one must be willing to lend without collateral.

The Lechem Mishneh (Hilkhot Malveh Ve-loveh 1:1) suggests a much simpler answer. The very fact that the Torah issued such a stern warning against withholding loans before the onset of shemita reflects the importance afforded to lending to the poor. True, the context of this warning pertains to the specific institution of shemita. But nevertheless, in a general sense, what underlies this entire discussion in Parashat Re'ei is the Torah's concern for the poor, including the ready availability of loans to help alleviate their economic hardship.

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The Torah in Parashat Re'ei presents the guidelines concerning the consumption of meat after Benei Yisrael enter the Land. Throughout their wanderings in the wilderness, Benei Yisrael were not permitted to eat meat outside the sacrificial framework; they ate meat only as part of a sacrificial offering (see Rashi, 12:20; this follows the view of Rabbi Yishmael in the Sifrei). Here the Torah spells out the laws concerning the consumption of meat in the land, and requires, "you shall slaughter any of the cattle or sheep that the Lord gives you" (12:21) – a verse understood by Chazal as introducing the obligation of shechita (the halakhic slaughtering of animals before partaking of their meat).

The Rambam lists shechita as the 146^th of the 248 mitzvot asei (positive commandments). The Ra'avad, in his critique of the Rambam's Sefer Ha-mitzvot, comments, "This has no reason; perhaps [the Rambam meant] that a 'lav ha-ba mi-khlal asei' is an asei." The Ra'avad's initial objection to the inclusion of shechita in the Rambam's list of mitzvot asei has to do with the simple fact that strictly speaking, there is no obligation of shechita. Technically, one can decide to never eat meat and thus never become obligated with respect to shechita. Shechita, the Ra'avad argues, is a precondition for eating meat, rather than a mitzva. But then the Ra'avad suggests that the Rambam counted shechita as a mitzvat asei because it constitutes a "lav ha-ba mi-khlal asei," meaning, a prohibition that naturally evolves from an imperative command in the Torah. What we have here, the Ra'avad suggests, is not so much an obligation of shechita as a prohibition against eating without shechita. In theory, then, the Rambam should have included shechita in his list of mitzvot lo ta'aseh – prohibitions, rather than in his list of mitzvot asei – positive obligations. But since the Torah formulated shechita in the imperative form – "you shall slaughter" – the Rambam treats it as a mitzvat asei. Conceptually, however, this mitzva is a prohibition, rather than an obligation.

The Kesef Mishneh, by contrast, suggests that the Rambam indeed viewed shechita as a genuine mitzvat asei. In a situation where a person wishes to eat meat, he comes under an obligation to slaughter an animal. Therefore, according to the Kesef Mishneh's understanding of the Rambam, shechita constitutes an obligation, not a prohibition.

One possible ramification of this debate involves a halakha mentioned in the Gemara (Chulin 27a) concerning the procedure for shechita. Shechita requires severing both of the animal's "simanim," meaning, the trachea and the esophagus. An animal is considered properly slaughtered once one of the two simanim has been completely severed and the other has been mostly severed. (When it comes to fowl, even severing a single siman suffices.) Nevertheless, the Gemara establishes that le-khatechila (to fulfill the mitzva at its optimum standard), one must completely sever both simanim. Rashi explains this halakha as a rabbinic enactment, whereas Tosefot (Chulin 21b) appear to indicate that Torah law requires that le-khatechila one must sever both simanim. Now elsewhere (Nidda 66b), Tosefot establish a general rule as to when there can be a Torah law that applies only le-khatechila, and is not indispensable for the fulfillment of the given mitzva. Tosefot claim that only when we deal with an outright obligation can we speak of a halakha of this type on the level of Torah law. By contrast, when dealing with a "matir" – a law that must be performed to permit a given action, but is not obligatory in its own right, we will not find a Torah law that applies only le-khatechila. Any Torah law regarding a "matir" applies "le-ikuva"- it is indispensable in order to generate the desired heter (permissibility).

Returning, then, to the dispute between Rashi and Tosefot in Chulin, they appear to debate the issue of how to view the obligation of shechita. Rashi views shechita as but a matir, rather than an actual mitzva, just as the Ra'avad understood the Rambam's position. Therefore, the le-khatechila requirement to sever both simanim cannot have been ordained by the Torah, and must rather originate from Chazal. Tosefot, by contrast, followed the Kesef Mishneh's understanding, that shechita indeed constitutes a bona fide mitzvat asei, and the halakha requiring one to sever both simanim may thus be seen as a Torah obligation.

Not surprisingly, the Kesef Mishneh, in Hilkhot Shechita (1:1), claims that the Rambam follows Tosefot's view, that the le-khatechila requirement to sever both simanim constitutes a Torah obligation. Since the Kesef Mishneh in Sefer Ha-mitzvot understood the Rambam as viewing shechita as an outright mitzva asei, he naturally allowed for the possibility of a Biblically ordained, le-khatechila requirement, and hence attributed Tosefot's position to the Rambam.

(Taken from Rav Herschel Shachtar's "Mi-pninei Ha-Rav," p. 323)

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Among the many topics covered in Parashat Re'ei is the "navi sheker," the false prophet, who tries to persuade Benei Yisrael on the basis of alleged prophetic visions to worship idols (13:2-6). The Torah forbids the people from heeding his instructions (verse 4), and adds, "You shall follow the Lord your God, and revere none but Him; observe His commandments and heed His orders; worship Him and hold fast to Him" (verse 5). We are bidden to avoid the trap of the false prophet and remain steadfastly loyal to God and His commandments.

The Chafetz Chayim is cited as noting a subtle nuance in the verse cited above. The verse begins by demanding that we "follow the Lord your God." In Hebrew, this is written as, "Acharei Hashem Elokecha teileikhu" – literally, "You shall walk after the Lord your God." In general, the word used by the Torah to mean "after" is either "achar" or "acharei." Rashi, in his commentary to Parashat Lekh-Lekha (Bereishit 15:1), based on the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 44:5), establishes the basic rule determining when the Torah chooses to write "achar" and when it uses "acharei." "Achar" generally denotes proximity; when the Torah describes an event as having occurred "achar" an earlier event, it means that it took place very soon after the earlier event. "Acharei," by contrast, denotes distance, and thus an event that took place long after an earlier episode is said to have occurred "acharei." The Chafetz Chayim claims that this distinction applies even when "achar" and "achrei" are used in reference to physical distance, rather than time. If a person follows "achar" another person, this means he follows close behind, whereas walking "acharei" something means lagging far behind.

Accordingly, the Chafetz Chayim contends, we would expect our verse, which urges Benei Yisrael to cling to their faith rather than succumb to the false prophet's lure, to employ the term "achar," which denotes proximity. But in truth, the Torah here calls upon us to follow "acharei" God – suggesting a distance of sorts between the people and God. Why?

The Chafetz Chayim explained that the Torah specifically refers to situations of distance, when a person feels far from His presence. When this happens, a person is likely todespair and give up. The Torah thus insists that even when a person experiences a sense of "acharei," of distance from God, he must nevertheless "revere Him; observe His commandments" and so on. The solution to distance is not to perpetuate that feeling, but to continue doing what one can in spite of that feeling.

This reading of the verse very well accommodates its context – the situation of the false prophet. Presumably, this false prophet is persuasive, charismatic and appealing. His arguments are sound, he speaks with confidence, and his ideas are attractive. If the Torah found it necessary to warn in such harsh terms against following the false prophet, then it stands to reason that this prophet is a capable enough orator to pose a formidable threat and challenge. When such an appealing alternative to traditional Judaism presents itself, Benei Yisrael will find themselves in a position of "acharei Hashem." The seemingly cogent arguments against their faith could potentially rattle their confidence in tradition and cause their loyalty to fade. The challenges are real, the temptation is considerable, and the resistance to the prophet is weak. The Torah urges us in such situations to continue observing the mitzvot despite the feeling of "acharei," regardless of the dark cloud of uncertainty cast over us by the navi sheker.

Indeed, many different challenges of many different types have been posed to traditional Jewish faith over the centuries, both from within and from without. We have overcome these trials because we followed the advice of this verse, to continue our observance even during times of "acharei," when questions arise and our vision becomes blurred. Eventually, the falsehood of the given prophet's claims became evident, and the truth about Torah and the commandments became clear. If we retain our devotion in situations of "acharei," the time will then come when we will return to a state of "achar," of closeness and clarity.

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Parashat Re'ei includes the famous verse, "Banim atem l'Hashem Elokekhem" – "You are children of the Lord your God" (14:1). The Sifrei and Gemara (Masekhet Kiddushin 36a) record a curious debate between Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Meir regarding Benei Yisrael's status as God's "children." Rabbi Yehuda claims that this status depends upon our conduct; only when we behave like God's children, he asserts, are we indeed considered God's children. But when Benei Yisrael do not act like His children, then He does not think of them as His children, either. Rabbi Meir, by contrast, argues that regardless of Benei Yisrael's conduct, God looks upon them as His own children.

What precisely are these Tanna'im arguing about?

The "Yismach Moshe" (cited in "Likutei Batar Likutei" to Masekhet Kiddushin) claims that as in many instances of a debate concerning Aggadic, rather than Halakhic, subject matter, these views do not represent conflicting positions. Rather, Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Meir speak of two sides of the same coin. God indeed looks upon us as His children even when we are undeserving, as Rabbi Meir claims, but He will not address us directly as His children, as suggested by Rabbi Yehuda. The "Yismach Moshe" likely means that when we are not worthy of God's fatherly love, He indeed punishes us and treats us harshly. Nevertheless, even when this happens, He will never disown us completely, just as a parent always remains a parent to his child. Though He might punish us and cast us into exile, the parent-child relationship is never broken, and ultimately He will bring us a back.

Others, however, understood that Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yehuda indeed disagree. The Meshekh Chokhma finds a purely technical basis for this debate. The Gemara writes in Masekhet Yevamot (4a) that Rabbi Yehuda acknowledges the significance of "semukhin" (textual juxtaposition) in Sefer Devarim. This means that Chazal could derive halakhot based on the textual juxtaposition between verses in Sefer Devarim. For example, from the fact that the Torah discusses the mitzva of tzitzit immediately following the prohibition against wearing sha'atnez (22:11-12), the Gemara derives that one may wear sha'atnez for the purpose of wearing tzitzit (i.e. wool strings on a linen garment). Accordingly, the Meshekh Chokhma suggests, Rabbi Yehuda found significance in the juxtaposition between Moshe's statement that Benei Yisrael are God's "children" and the immediately preceding verse: "for you will be heeding the Lord your God, obeying all His commandments that I enjoin upon you this day… " This juxtaposition suggests that only when Benei Yisrael faithfully observe the mitzvot do they earn this distinction of being God's children. Apparently, the Meshekh Chokhma felt that Rabbi Meir denies the significance of "semukhin" even in Sefer Devarim.

The Yalkut Yehuda cites a different approach from the work "Galya Masekhta," which claims that this debate surrounds the question of the extent of Benei Yisrael's accountability for their wrongdoing. Rabbi Yehuda felt that given the concept mentioned in the Gemara that Torah study helps one overcome his evil inclinations, Benei Yisrael cannot excuse themselves from culpability by claiming that their human instincts overpowered them. After all, God provided them with the antidote to the yetzer ha-ra (evil inclination), and so their sinful conduct shows that they chose not to make use of this remedy. Therefore, their disobedience strips them of their status as God's children. Rabbi Meir, by contrast, felt that although Torah study enables one to overcome his inclinations, this process entails intensive effort and hard work. Therefore, we do not forfeit our status as God's children when we fail to meet His expectations, given the immense challenges we face in observing the mitzvot.

The Rashba, in one of his responsum (194, repeated in 242), also treats this discussion as an outright debate and even lends it Halakhic significance. The Rashba was asked whether a Jewish apostate who converted out of the faith retains his status as a Jew with respect to the laws of tum'a (ritual impurity). (A Jewish corpse transmits tum'a to any person or utensil under the same roof, whereas a gentile corpse transmits tum'a only through physical contact.) He responds that we must, indeed, consider this individual a full-fledged Jew with respect to virtually all areas of Halakha. Although there are a small number of halakhot with regard to which we treat an apostate as a non-Jew (such as lending money on interest), this is because the Torah specifically hinged these laws on "achva" – literally, "fraternity," which does not apply to a Jew who betrayed his faith. In terms of personal status, however, a Jew retains his status as a Jew regardless of his religious beliefs of practices. Amidst his discussion, the Rashba indicates that Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Meir debate this very issue, of whether a Jew loses his Jewish status when he forsakes his religion, and claims that Halakha follows the position of Rabbi Meir. Therefore, according to Halakha, a Jew remains a "child of the Almighty," irrespective of his conduct.

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Yesterday, we discussed the verse in Parashat Re'ei in which Moshe proclaims, "You are children of the Lord your God" (14:1). The verse then continues by forbidding various forms of self-mutilation that were commonly practiced among pagans in response to the loss of a loved one: "You shall not gash yourselves or shave the front of your heads because of the dead." Many commentators sought to explain the connection between the verse's opening clause – "You are children of the Lord your God" – and this prohibition. Why does the Torah introduce this law by reminding us that we are the Almighty's "children"?

Rashi (see also Rav Sa'adya Gaon) explains, "Since you are the Almighty's children, it is appropriate for you to have a pleasant appearance, rather than be gashed and shaved." According to Rashi, our status as God's children lends us a certain "royal" stature, which requires a certain standard of personal appearance. This requirement underlies the prohibition against makigashes in our flesh or shaving the front of our heads. The Ramban challenges Rashi's approach, claiming that it fails to explain why this prohibition applies specifically to self-mutilation in response to a personal tragedy. If the concern here is for a comely appearance, the circumstances surrounding the mutilation should be of no consequence. Rav Eliyahu Mizrachi and the Maharal of Prague (in his Gur Aryeh) suggest a very simple solution to this problem, namely, that the Torah felt it necessary to forbid self-mutilation only in situations where it might be practiced. It was not concerned that people would make gashes in their skin at whim, but rather in response to tragedy, as was the widespread practice in the pagan world. The Torah therefore introduced the prohibition specifically in the context of a relative's death, but in truth it applies generally, as well.

The Ramban himself suggested a different approach, noting that the Torah had already forbade these practices earlier, in Sefer Vayikra (21:5), with reference to the kohanim. Here we are told that in a certain sense, all of Am Yisrael have priestly status, by virtue of the fact that they are "the children of the Lord your God." Therefore, these practices, which infringe upon the honor and dignity of the kohanim, are forbidden for all Benei Yisrael, as well.

Ibn Ezra explains that the "parent-child" relationship between Am Yisrael and God should reduce the grief felt after the loss of a loved one. A parent always does what's best for the child, but the child will often not understand how his parent's treatment of him is geared towards his well being. Similarly, we must trust that somehow, the tragedies we experience are, in the broadest sense, for our benefit. It therefore behooves us to overcome our sorrow and not overindulge in grief and mourning.

In a slightly different vein, the Chizkuni (based on the commentary of Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor) explains that given God's fatherly love towards us, we must never feel completely alone, even after the passing of a loved one. A Jew is never truly orphaned, for the Almighty is the Father of us all, and He will care for and look after us as a father. This awareness should soothe the pain of personal tragedy and help a bereaved relative overcome his sorrow. Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his "Yalkut Yehuda," suggests that the idea formulated here by the Chizkuni perhaps forms the basis of the custom to recite kaddish for a departed relative. Kaddish makes no reference whatsoever to death, the afterlife, or the soul. It speaks only of the Almighty's greatness, sanctity, power and singularity. Proclaiming God's greatness, Rav Ginsburg suggests, serves as a source of comfort to mourners, as they come to recognize that despite their painful loss, they still have their Father in heaven who is more powerful and whose relationship is more significant than any human being on earth.

Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in his commentary to this verse, develops a similar approach, taking into account as well the relationship between this prohibition and the previous sections in Parashat Re'ei. Earlier, the Torah discussed various situations where people are misled by kinsmen and neighbors to betray God. The "meisit" (13:7-12) is described as a person who persuades his relatives to worship idols, and the law of the "ir nidachat" (13:13-19) addresses a situation of several individuals who lure their townspeople to embrace paganism. These laws speak of the danger that, as Rav Hirsch writes, "even our highest relationship to God could be exposed to by unrestricted devotion to persons who infuse us with love and respect." Our devotion to family and friends runs the risk of superseding our love and commitment to God. In this context, then, the Torah speaks of the prohibition against self-mutilation over the loss of a loved one. This prohibition "ensures the keeping of one's self-estimation, the consciousness of one's own worth arising from being directly belonging to God, even in comparison and in connection with our dearest and most honored personalities." Our relationship to the Almighty must prevent us from feeling overly dependent upon anybody else. "No personality may chain us so closely to it, allow us to be so absorbed into it, that when it departs from us we may throw our own personality after it, as having no longer any value, as would be what the permanent sign of cut or baldness on our body is meant to express." These practices of gashing and shaving served to express the relative's feeling that his life has lost meaning with the death of his loved one. It is this very feeling that the Torah militates against. A person must find value and meaning in his life by virtue of his being "a child" of God, and must therefore avoid such absolute dependence on other people for his feeling of worth and meaningfulness.

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