The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

Parashat Kedoshim opens with the imperative, "Kedoshim tihyu" - "You shall be holy." A somewhat startling Midrash in Bereishit Rabba (Parashat Miketz) reads: "Perhaps [you shall be as holy] as My sanctity? The verse therefore says, 'for I, the Lord your God, am holy.'" In other words, lest one think that God commands us to achieve a level of holiness equal to His own, He reminds us, "for I, the Lord your God, am holy" - far more sacred than anything we can become.

What does this mean? How could anyone have thought that God demands of us His sanctity?

An interesting explanation is cited by Rav Tzvi Pesach Frank from his grandson, Rav Yosef Cohen. Rav Cohen suggests that God's sanctity mentioned in this Midrash refers to one particular feature of His holiness, of which we read this week in Parashat Acharei Mot: "… which abides with them in the midst of their impurity" (Vayikra 16:16). Despite His sanctity, the Almighty dwells among Benei Yisrael even in our state of impurity, even when we are undeserving of His presence. The Almighty need not "fear" possible contamination by establishing His residence among sinful mortals. He therefore compassionately and lovingly remains with us despite our unworthiness.

It is this level of sanctity that we can never reach - and we may therefore not even try. As much as one develops himself spiritually, he is nevertheless affected by his surroundings. Where one lives and spends his time will invariably have some impact on his "kedusha" (sanctity). Therefore, unlike the Almighty, we may not "abide in the midst of impurity," we may not plant ourselves among those whose influence we ought to avoid. Needless to say, this does not mandate the construction of impenetrable barriers between us and those of conflicting ideologies and lifestyles, nor does it necessarily forbid all forms of contact or interaction with potentially detrimental influences. This idea rather bids us to avoid "abiding in the midst of impurity," establishing ourselves as permanent residents among the "impure." Only then can we hope to achieve the goal of "kedoshim tihyu."

*****

The first half of Parashat Achrei-Mot outlines the Yom Kippur service in the Mikdash. This section concludes, "He did as God commanded Moshe" (16:34). As Rashi explains, the ambiguous pronoun "he" refers here to Aharon, the high priest, who, when Yom Kippur came around, meticulously complied with all the procedures outlined in this parasha. (The Jewish Publication Society's translation, however, understood that it refers to Moshe, which of course gives rise to the question as to what Moshe "did," as he did not serve as the kohen gadol.) Rashi adds that this verse lauds one quality of Aharon's observance in particular: he wore the lavish, priestly garments strictly to obey the divine command, rather than for his own glorification.

At first glance, as Rav Shimon Schwab (in "Ma'ayan Beit ha-Sho'eiva") notes, it appears strange that Aharon would earn this acclaim specifically for his attitude towards his garments on Yom Kippur. During the year, the kohen gadol wore the "bigdei zahav," particularly magnificent and expensive garments spun from fine gold and other precious materials. The Yom Kippur service, however, was performed with the "bigdei lavan," plain, white, linen garments. Why specifically on Yom Kippur, when he donned less lavish clothing, did Aharon win the Torah's praise for his humble attitude towards his priestly garb?

Rav Schwab suggests that this passage in Rashi teaches us that external humility, too, can often be used as an expression of arrogance. At times a person takes on a modest appearance to gloat and impress. It is this challenge that faces the kohen gadol as he dons his simple, white garments on Yom Kippur. Does the symbol of humility wrapped around his body truly reflect his internal, self-effacing sense of unworthiness, or is it but a facade, masking his inflated ego and sense of greatness? The Torah testifies to Aharon's sincerity in wearing his modest Yom Kippur clothing. It thus bids us to follow suit, to ensure that how we appear to others indeed represents the invisible soul inside.

*****

Parashat Kedoshim presents a wide variety of mitzvot, and the sequence of presentation is not always easily understood. In many instances, the commentators and "darshanim" have suggested various explanations as to the order employed by the Torah in this parasha.

The Keli Yakar, for example, suggests a reason for the juxtaposition between the prohibition of "pigul" (19:5-8) and the mitzvot of "leket" and "pei'a" and other gifts to the poor (19:9-10). "Pigul" refers to a sacrifice that was slaughtered with the intention to be eaten beyond the prescribed time limit or outside the area in which its meat's consumption is permitted. Even if the kohen meticulously follows every detail concerning the sacrificial rituals, wrong intentions invalidate the offering and render its consumption strictly forbidden. The Keli Yakar suggests that by associating this prohibition with the obligations concerning charity, the Torah wishes to underscore their distinction with regard to the role of intention in each respective institution. As opposed to "pigul," which reflects the critical role of intentions in the realm of sacrifices, charity can be properly performed even with no intention whatsoever. The verse in Parashat Ki Teitzei (Devarim 24:19) introduces the halakha of "shikhecha," that one may not return to his field to collect grain forgotten during the harvest. He must instead leave it for the poor. The Torah promises special divine blessing in exchange for compliance with this mitzva. Rashi notes that even grain of which the farmer is entirely unaware brings him blessing and prosperity should a poor person find it and use it for sustenance. From here Rashi derives that if a coin slips out of one's pocket without his knowing, and a pauper finds it and keeps it, the original owner is rewarded for "giving" charity. This demonstrates that one need not intend to donate charity to fulfill the mitzva of tzedaka.

The Keli Yakar thus suggests that the Torah wished to highlight the sharp distinction between korbanot on the one hand and charity on the other, thereby reinforcing the greatness of tzedaka - a mitzva that one fulfills even unintentionally.

Several Acharonim have reached a similar conclusion based on a fascinating passage in the Talmud (Pesachim 8b; Rosh Hashanah 4b), which considers one a "tzadik" when donating charity even for ulterior motives, such as giving charity in the hope that the merit will bring a cure to one's ailing son. The straightforward reading of the Gemara implies that even with ulterior motives, one has fulfilled the mitzva of charity at the highest level. (Clearly, however, other obligations, such as following the Almighty's kind, compassionate conduct, would require one to genuinely concern himself with the needs of others.) This, too, indicates that the mitzva of charity does not require intention. (We should point out, however, that a distinction may be drawn between intention and motivation. The Keli Yakar, based on Rashi's comment in Devarim, spoke of unintended charity; this Gemara presents a case of one who fully intended to donate money, only for ulterior motives. The two issues are related but clearly distinct.)

Why is this so? A famous dispute in the Talmud surrounds the issue of "mitzvot tzerikhot kavana," whether or not one requires proper intention to fulfill a mitzva. Why is it assumed that the mitzva of tzedaka can, according to all views, be satisfied without any intention for the mitzva?

One answer suggested (by a contemporary writer, Rav Elyakim Dvorkes) is based on a distinction drawn by Rav Elchanan Wasserman Hy"d (in Kovetz Shiurim, Ketubot 249) between two groups of mitzvot. Rav Elchanan claims that intenmay be indispensable for the performance of a mitzvonly if the mitzva is "action-oriented," if the focal point of the mitzva is the specific action required. Some mitzvot are "result-oriented," focused primarily on the end result; the individual must see to it that the result indeed occurs, and the actions required are of peripheral significance. In the performance of these mitzvot, we cannot consider intention indispensable. Since the Torah demands primarily the end result, rather than the means, one's intention in achieving that result has no effect on the fulfillment of the obligation.

Thus, as the institution of charity is meant primarily to provide sustenance for the poor, how one's money reaches the pauper is of secondary importance. One fulfills this obligation, then, even without any intention.

Needless to say, all this applies on the strict, technical, halakhic level of the obligation of charity. Regarding the broader issue of proper "middot" and concern for others, of course, one must always make a conscious, concerted effort to assist those is need to the best of his ability.

*****

Among the many mitzvot introduced in Parashat Kedoshim is the famous prohibition of "lifnei iver lo titein mikhshol" - that one may not "place a stumbling block before a blind man" (19:14). The straightforward reading of the verse suggests that the Torah here forbids causing physical harm to someone by capitalizing on his disability. Chazal, however, interpret the verse metaphorically, to refer to assisting someone in his own downfall. This can occur in two ways: offering bad advice - such as encouraging one to purchase merchandise which he knows is defective, or helping one commit a violation against the Torah - such as providing him with non-kosher food. In both instances, the perpetrator leads the unsuspecting victim to his own downfall, much like placing a stumbling block before a blind pedestrian.

The Gemara (Nida 57a, Chulin 3a) records that the heretical sect of "Kutim," who rejected rabbinic, halakhic exegesis of Biblical text, adopted as authoritative the literal meaning of this verse. Thus, in their view, the Torah here forbids the placing of an actual obstacle in the path of an unsuspecting passer-by. Needless to say, Jewish tradition has adopted the metaphoric meaning. Does, however, rabbinic exegesis reject the literal meaning outright, or did it merely add an additional interpretation that does not negate the relevance of the straightforward reading? In other words, does this verse introduce a prohibition against tripping a blind pedestrian in addition to that against offering unsound advice and facilitating a transgression?

Though the silence of centuries-worth of halakhic literature in this regard might suggest otherwise, at least two relatively recent authors thought that this prohibition includes the literal "stumbling block," as well. Rav Barukh Epstein, in his Torah Temima (on this verse), advocates such a notion. He argues that once Chazal broaden the definition of the terms "blind" and "stumbling block" in this verse, it must refer to any type of harm caused by capitalizing on one's disadvantage. They can extend it beyond the strict, literal meaning, but they cannot eliminate the straightforward reading. What difference does it make, he argues, whether one harms another physically, financially or spiritually, once the Torah forbids any form of "stumbling block"? He draws proof for his position from the ritual conducted at Mount Gerizim and Mount Eival, as described in Parashat Ki-Tavo. There Benei Yisrael declared a series of curses against violators of certain crimes, including: "Cursed be he who misdirects a blind person on his way" (Devarim 27:18). It is inconceivable, Rav Epstein contends, that a curse would be administered unless the Torah had previously introduced this prohibition. Undoubtedly, then, our verse forbids even the literal misdirection of the blind.

In truth, however, this verse in Parashat Ki-Tavo can hardly serve as a proof for Rav Epstein's argument. As he himself notes, Rashi there interprets that verse, too, as referring to the metaphoric "misdirection" of the blind.

The second writer advocating this theory is Rav Meir Simcha of Dvinsk, who sees in our verse the source of the prohibition against digging or opening a ditch in a public domain. Such a prohibition, Rav Meir Simcha observes, is suggested by implication in Masekhet Bava Kama 51a. The Gemara there discusses the famous law in Parashat Mishpatim (Shemot 21:33-34) placing liability for ensuing damages on the digger of a pit in public property. The Gemara comments (amidst a more complex discussion) that if one asks/hires another to dig the hole, then the digger, rather than his dispatcher, bears liability for damages. In formulating this somewhat self-understood provision, the Gemara invokes the principle of, "ein sheli'ach li-dvar aveira," that a sinner is punished for his act even if he was commissioned by another. The use of the term "aveira" - sin - in this context suggests that digging a potentially dangerous ditch not only generates liability, but violates a transgression in and of itself. (Thus, even someone willing to pay for damages would be forbidden to go ahead and dig the pit.) The Mishneh le-Melekh (Hilkhot Rotzei'ach 2:2) assumes that the prohibition to which the Gemara alludes must refer to a rabbinic enactment. Rav Meir Simcha, however, rejects this theory and maintains that the prohibition against "placing a stumbling block" forbids not only the metaphoric stumbling block of unwise counsel or facilitating a sin, but the literal stumbling block, as well. Therefore, it is to our verse that the Gemara refers when speaking of digging a hole in a public area as a "sin."

*****

Yesterday we discussed the prohibition introduced in our parasha against "placing a stumbling block before the blind" (19:14). As we saw, Chazal interpreted the verse metaphorically, as forbidding one from misleading another with unsound advice or assisting another in committing a transgression. We mentioned two 20^th-century writers who claim that the straightforward reading of the verse is applicable, as well, and hence this verse also prohibits placing a physical obstacle in the path of a visually impaired pedestrian. This does not, however, appear to be the generally accepted view, as nowhere in earlier, classic halakhic literature do we find sources to this effect.

This gives rise to perhaps the most obvious question concerning Chazal's reading of this verse: what compelled them to adopt a non-literal interpretation? Why couldn't the Torah have meant, quite simply, to prohibit heartlessly capitalizing on the handicap of another?

In his VBM parasha series last year (5761), Rav Elchanan Samet devoted his shiur to Parashat Kedoshim to this very issue. We will briefly summarize his analysis and conclusions.

First, he cites earlier attempts to answer this question. One such attempt was made by the Maharal of Prague, in his "Gur Aryeh" (on our verse). The Maharal points to the verse's concluding clause as the basis for the metaphoric interpretation: "and you shall fear your God, I am the Lord." Rashi on our verse explains that the Torah adds this clause when dealing with laws whose observance or violation is not be exposed to public knowledge. The Torah emphasizes the need for "fear of God" in instances where one's intentions determine whether or not he violated the given precept. The Maharal argues that this emphasis in our verse negates the possibility of a literal interpretation. Placing an obstacle on the sidewalk is easily discernible by other pedestrians; God is not the only One who would witness such a crime. The verse must therefore speak of the misdirection of others - in either religious or general matters - which, to observers, may potentially have resulted from an honest error or miscalculation.

Rav Samet notes, however, that the verse may indeed describe specifically a case where no onlookers are present. In fact, the perpetrator places a stumbling block before a blind man because the victim identify his antagonist. It stands to reason, then, that the criminal would choose a setting in whicno one else can take note of his actions, either.

Another suggestion is offered by Rav Aharon Ibn Chayim, in his commentary on the Sifra, "Korban Aharon." He notes that the Torah here employs the verb, "netina" to mean "place." Intuitively, we would have expected to find the verb, "le-hasim" - to place - rather than "netina," which means "giving." One places a stumbling block on the sidewalk, he does not give it to the sidewalk. Therefore, Chazal interpret the verse as referring to a case of lending assistance or advice. However, Rav Samet (quoting from Rav Yerucham Perlow's work on Rav Sa'adya Gaon's Sefer ha-Mitzvot) notes that there is ample Scriptural precedent for the use of the verb "netina" to mean "placing."

Rav Samet himself adopts a different approach, pointing to external, rather than textual, factors as mandating the metaphoric interpretation. Namely, the Torah assumes a basic, minimum ethical standard on the part of the audience it addresses (= Am Yisrael). Its laws governing interpersonal conduct therefore involve situations of potential personal gain at the expense of others - behavior which, however objectionable, is motivated by common, human aspirations and desires. Placing a stumbling block before a blind man, however, is an expression of pure cruelty and sadism for their own sake. There is no need for the Torah to issue such a prohibition, to forbid an act one would commit for no reason beyond a sadistic urge to watch others suffer pain and humiliation. Chazal therefore preferred the metaphoric interpretation, by which the Torah prohibits deceiving others to promote one's own selfish interests.

*****

Over the last two days we have discussed the prohibition of "lifnei iver lo titein mikhshol," which the Torah introduces in Parashat Kedoshim (19:14). As we saw, Chazal identify this prohibition as forbidding the offering of assistance to another in the violation of a transgression. In theory, we may understand the nature of this prohibition in one of two ways. First, we may explain that the Torah here forbids participating in a sin. Helping to facilitate a prohibited act renders one in violation, to some extent, of that sin committed. Thus, providing forbidden food to another is deemed somewhat equivalent to the actual consumption thereof. Alternatively, we may look at "lifnei iver" as belonging in the realm of interpersonal relationships. Helping another violate the Torah in effect does him harm. The Torah prohibits inflicting spiritual harm upon another just as it forbids causing physical, monetary or emotional harm.

A natural consequence of this question is the issue of which prohibition an individual essentially violates when assisting another in sin. If "lifnei iver" involves one's participation in a transgression, then by facilitating a sin one has violated, in one form or another, that sin he helped bring about. If, however, we view "lifnei iver" as a concern for the welfare of potential sinners, then it constitutes an independent violation; one who assists another in sin has violated "lifnei iver," not the transgression he helped facilitate.

Let us consider a concrete example of how this issue might become relevant. At the end of the eighth chapter of Masekhet Sanhedrin, the Gemara discusses a situation where municipal theocracies would forcibly seize oil lamps from local residents in order to heat their houses of worship. As we know, idolatry is one of three "cardinal" sins from which one must refrain even at the risk of his life. Nevertheless, the Gemara rules that Jews were not required to surrender their lives rather than provide the heating apparatuses for the pagan houses of worship. The Rishonim debate as to why this is so. The Ba'al ha-Ma'or, following the straightforward reading of the Gemara, explains that the pagans confiscated the lamps "le-hana'at atzman," for their own physical benefit, rather than for idolatrous worship per se. He extracts from this halakha a general principle allowing one to worship idols rather than surrender his life in situations where the pagan coerces the Jew for his own, personal benefit rather than out of religious ideals. The Ramban argues for a different basis for allowing the local Jews to provide the oil lamps. Quite simple, helping to facilitate idolatry does not constitute the worship of idolatry; supplying the heating apparatus and hence assisting the pagans in their worship involves "lifnei iver," rather than actual idolatry. As the Torah requires one to give his life only when forced to worship idols, but not to violate "lifnei iver," one need not give his life rather than provide heating for houses of pagan worship.

Quite clearly, this debate hinges on the issue we discussed. According to the Ba'al ha-Ma'or, assisting in the violation of a given sin constitutes a form of participation in that sin; hence, the rules governing the assistance are the same as those governing the actual violation facilitated. The Ramban, by contrast, views assisting a sin as an independent prohibition. Its rules therefore correspond to the guidelines governing standard prohibitions.

Another ramification of this issue relates to the view of the Peri Megadim (in his Ginat Veradim, 43), who adds an interesting condition to the halakha of "lifnei iver." He claims that one violates this prohibition only if the transgression he facilitates applies to him, as well. If he helps someone commit a sin in which, for whatever reason, he is not included, he does not violate "lifnei iver." This runs counter to a comment of Tosefot (Bava Metzi'a 10b) that applies "lifnei iver" to a case of a non-kohen who betroths a divorcee on behalf of a kohen. We leave it to the reader to determine how this debate hinges on the issue we discussed.

(Based on Rabbi Menachem Genack, "Be'in yan Lifnei Iver," in Yeshiva University's "Beit Yitzchak," vol. 26)

*****

Parashat Acharei-Mot marks the point of transition between the two basic sections of Sefer Vayikra. The first, which runs through the end of chapter 17, addresses laws relevant to the Mishkan and Mikdash. The topics discussed in this section involve the sacrifices, the consecration of the Mishkan, and laws of tum'a and tahara (ritual purity and impurity) - which determine who can enter the Mishkan and when. The one possible exception is chapter 11, the second half of Parashat Shemini, which presents the laws of kashrut (dietary laws). However, this presentation, too, in fact relates to the issue of tum'a and tahara. A quick comparison between this chapter and the parallel outline of the dietary laws in Parashat Re'ei (Devarim 14) demonstrates this point. In Devarim, the Torah discusses only the specific issue of what one may or may not eat. That discussion omits entirely the abundant information found in Parashat Shemini concerning the laws of tum'a and tahara that flow directly from the delineation of the kosher and non-kosher animals.

The second half of Sefer Vayikra addresses a much broader range of topics. From chapter 18 on, we have left the confines of the Temple and now find ourselves involved in a wide range of social and agricultural activities - all of which are subject to many detailed laws, as outlined in this second half of the sefer.

Significantly, this second section begins with the issue of external influences that threaten to undermine Benei Yisrael's loyalty to the Torah: "Speak to the Israelite people and say to them: I am the Lord your God. You shall not copy the practices of the land of Egypt where you dwelt, or of the land of Canaan to which I am taking you; nor shall you follow their laws. My rules alone shall you observe, and faithfully follow My laws… " In the first half of Sefer Vayikra, there is no need to remind Benei Yisrael to reject the immoral, idolatrous norms of the countries where they have lived and will live. These chapters speak to Benei Yisrael inside the Mishkan, as it were; all they must hear is how and under what circumstances they may interact with thShekhina in the Mishkan. Within God's fortress, so-to-speak, no threat is posed by the surrounding nations. Now, however, we have moved outside the spiritualsecure confines of sanctity and engage in general pursuits. When this occurs, the nation must be reminded of the Torah's autonomy, that its fundamental principles remain constant regardless of the values and norms championed by the world around them.

Chapter 18 proceeds to list various forms of forbidden sexual misconduct, noting that the nations of Canaan engaged in these relationships and were thus to be banished from the land (18:24-25). Then, after God admonishes the people to resist these influences, He charges them with a much greater responsibility, one which is developed in chapter 19: "Kedoshim tihyu" - "You shall be holy." Only once Torah's autonomy is preserved, once we have established its independence and resistance to external forces, can we pursue sanctity. Any attempt to achieve chapter 19 - sanctity - without heeding the warning of chapter 18 - affirming the Torah's autonomy - will fail. Genuine holiness can be found by working within the mitzvot of the Torah, rather than searching far and wide in other belief systems.

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