Half shekels, plagues and communal responsibility

We read today in the opening verses of Ki Tisa that counting the Jewish People is not a simple process: each person was required to give a coin which would then be counted “so that there will be no plague” caused by a direct headcount. This system was also employed for the census in parashat Bemidbar. How are we to understand the relationship between undertaking a census and the threat of a plague? And in what way is the danger countered by collecting coins instead of counting people?

Judaism Reclaimed develops the interpretation of Malbim, who writes that there is a hashgachah clalit—collective Divine providence—which protects and guides the Jewish nation as a whole. The strength of this hashgachah clalit is influenced by the level of social unity exhibited by the nation, a unity which is undermined by counting, and thereby reckoning, each person separately (and according to their particular tribe and family).

With the world’s attention currently focused on battling the Coronavirus, it occurred to me that there are two crucial messages which can be drawn from this teaching. The first revolves around the widespread popular and media obsession with statistics: of those quarantined, sick or dead from the virus in various countries. Joseph Stalin is reputed to have stated that “a single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic”. Taking a census by means of personal contributions rather than a detached headcount guides us to focus on the community as a group of valuable people, each of whom makes his or her own unique contribution to the whole.

In addition, Malbim infers a key message from the fact that each individual contributed only a half rather than a whole shekel. By giving only half a shekel, we are invited to recognise that none of us are complete as free standing individuals. We can become ‘whole’ and perfect only by combining with the community and working for its greater benefit.

While Malbim presented these lessons in the context of maximising the benefits of the community’s Divine protection, it appears that his words take on an additional, practical dimension in the states of emergency which are being declared across the globe. We find ourselves in a situation in which the majority of the population are being asked to inconvenience themselves greatly – restrictions on schools, work places and even self-isolation orders – in order to protect the lives and well-being of the more vulnerable among us. Now more than ever we need to internalise this message of the “half shekel offering to the Lord” from today’s Torah reading. By recognising the inherent worth of each and every individual and reminding ourselves of the value of the entire community, we should be more motivated and inspired to take the necessary precautions to ensure that לא יהיה נגף there will be no plague among any of us.

First posted to Facebook 14 March 2020, here.

A time to argue -- with God?

The closing section in the chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Ki Tisa addresses a troubling theological problem as to when, if ever, it is appropriate for a prophet to argue with God. At first glance, the evidence on offer seems perplexing and contradictory. Avraham engages in a lengthy debate with God in an attempt to rescue the sinful cities of Sodom, but does not utter a single word of protest when bidden to offer his own innocent son as a sacrifice. Moshe’s petition on behalf of the Jewish people is welcomed and accepted by God in the aftermath of the Golden Calf; however, a seemingly similar petition over the Jews’ treatment at the hands of the Egyptians leads, as Rashi explains, to a divine rebuke.

A possible approach to resolving this issue may be to distinguish between scenarios in which God reveals His intentions to a prophet, apparently engaging in discussion regarding His future plans, and cases in which God issues clear-cut divine command. The negotiation between God and Avraham regarding the fate of Sodom is introduced by God stating that it would be improper to conceal His intentions from Avraham – and Avraham does not actually reject or challenge any command by taking a stand on behalf of the doomed Sodomite denizens. This can be contrasted with the passage of the Akeidah which, opens with a clear command to Avraham to take and sacrifice his son. No room remains for negotiation, and any rejection would therefore have been improper. (A later chapter of Judaism Reclaimed examines the Akeida more fully in the context of religion and morality).

The same distinction may hold true in the incidents involving Moshe. He had been given a clear divine instruction to approach Pharaoh in order to seek the Jews’ release. Moshe’s subsequent questioning of this command (albeit having already carried it out) was thus considered an exhibition of insufficient faith. Similarly in the book of Yonah, Yonah is rebuked for failing to obey God. Since God’s word came as a command, there was no room for questioning or negotiation. In the aftermath of the Golden Calf, however, God’s initial statement of “hanichah li”, with which He introduces the suggestion that He annihilate the Jewish people, can be seen as inviting a response and therefore requiring Moshe’s input. It is for this reason that Moshe’s pleading and petitioning were not seen as a sign of inadequate faith.

One particularly fascinating case study in this area is that of Noach, whom the Torah describes as having been saved from the flood on account of his righteousness and good conduct. Noach appears to have been presented with a clear instruction to construct the Ark in order to save himself, his close family and selected members of the animal kingdom; he was thus not in a position to enter into a debate with God. However, there are sources which appear to take him to task for his failure to petition on behalf of his unfortunate neighbours. The Zohar for example explains that the floodwaters are referred to as “the waters of Noach” in order to indicate his partial culpability in not attempting to intervene on behalf of his generation. Perhaps we can suggest that, even though Noach had received a command, this command consisted of a preparatory measure of building the Ark, and did not therefore necessarily preclude him from entering into a debate with God on a finalised matter.

First posted to Facebook 12 March 2020, here.

The golden calf and the challenges of Jewish education

A fascinating yet perplexing aggada in Berachot depicts Moshe arguing with God in the aftermath of the Golden Calf. Moshe appears to be blaming God for the Jewish people's sinful behaviour, claiming that the strong temptation to stray left no realistic expectation that the Jews could have behaved otherwise. Our surprise at Moshe's apparently outrageous accusation is compounded when the Gemara concludes by stating that God concedes the point and agrees with Moshe's assessment. This aggadah is puzzling for several reasons: why would God have wanted to create such an insurmountable temptation? And on what basis might God subsequently retreat from His initial position?

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed that relates to Ki Tisa addresses these points as well as the broader question of when and how a prophet can argue with God.

At the start of his commentary on the episode of the akeidah, Ramban examines the concept of nisayon, a test specifically designed and delivered to an individual. He explains that when God sees a person's latent potential for spiritual growth, He will supply that person with a challenge in order to actualise this potential. For that reason, writes Ramban, God will design a nisayon that He knows the individual can succeed in overcoming.

While Ramban's formula can be understood with tests for individuals, it is extremely complex to apply to an entire nation, whose members possess a wide range of spiritual capabilities. Should a national challenge of faith and spiritual growth be so easy to pass that the entire nation should be capable of passing it, potentially sacrificing the growth of its more advanced members? Alternatively, should the test be so hard that only the nation’s most capable members could pass it, thus identifying those who possess the best potential for leadership? Or should the test be set at whichever level would be likely to benefit the majority?

Another conversation between God and Moshe, this time recorded explicitly in the Torah's text, further indicates their sharply contrasting approaches to the difficult trade-off between refining the nation's upper echelons on the one hand, and catering for its weaker members on the other. After Moshe is dispatched from the summit of Mount Sinai to witness the Golden Calf debacle, God proposes to annihilate the unworthy nation and develop a new chosen people from Moshe's descendants. Moshe emphatically rejects this suggestion, and once again we see God acceding to Moshe's position. Rather than eliminating the sinful nation, God instead replaces His direct hashgachahwith that of an angel, thereby diminishing the level of shechinah and hashgachahto a level that the entire nation could endure.

While the nation as a whole failed and was punished as a result of the test of the Golden Calf, a midrash in Bemidbar Rabbah notes how the tribe of Levi was greatly elevated as a result of passing this test, thereby meriting to become the 'tribe of God' and serve in the Mikdash:

"When Israel worshipped the golden calf, the Levites refused to participate … And when Moshe told them to gird themselves with swords, what did they do? They took their swords and showed no favouritism…God tested them and they stood up to His test … As a result Hashem chose them (to serve in the Beit Hamikdash) as it says, "God tests the righteous one …"

It would appear from this text that, from God's perspective, the rigorous examination that the entire nation was subjected to in the episode of the Golden Calf was justified by the significant spiritual growth gained by the Levites.

Returning to God's reconsideration in light of Moshe's request to spare the nation, neither position taken by God during this conversation should be viewed as incorrect. God's initial proposition to replace the Jewish people with a new nation of Moshe's descendants would appear to derive from middat hadin — the attribute of strict justice which generates difficult challenges and demands perfect responses. While the tribe of Levi thrived on this challenge, Moshe pleaded for the Jews to be treated instead with the attribute of mercy (the '13 attributes' of which God subsequently revealed to him). Through this attribute of mercy, it would be easier to accommodate human imperfection by diminishing the intensity of the providential relationship between God and the people – albeit at the expense of the opportunities for spiritual growth for its more advanced members.

In modern times, a similar debate has emerged over the primary objective of Jewish education. Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler contrasted the approach adopted by the Torah im derech eretz system of Rabbi S. R. Hirsch in Germany with that of the Lithuanian yeshivas. Rav Dessler comments that the choice of the 'Frankfurt school system' to teach secular subjects and approve of university education made its Judaism far more palatable to its devotees, with the result that the vast majority of them opted for a life of dedicated Torah observance.

In contrast to this, the Lithuanian yeshivas concentrated their students' energies and desires exclusively on studying Torah. These great Torah academies, writes Rav Dessler, produced outstanding Torah leaders and a yeshiva system which flourishes to this very day, but at significant detriment to the lives (and religious observance) of those who were unable to deal with the extreme lifestyle it demanded. The yekkish communities designed by Rav Hirsch, by contrast, largely failed to build great yeshivot or Torah leaders, leading to a situation which has seen their stable and observant youngsters being subsumed into the Lithuanian yeshiva world and adopted its values.

First posted to Facebook 13 February 2022, here.