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ESSENTIAL JUDAISM: POSITIVE JEWISH LIFE, FROM THE PERSPECTIVE

OF MITSVOT

INTRODUCTION: SIXTY QUEENS AND “IN THE BLOOD OF THE


COVENANT”: RECAPTURING THE TORAH’S VALUES
The well-recognized danger of missing the forest for the trees highlights the

danger, particularly in a religion of law such as Judaism, of losing sight of the goal of the

system while busying oneself with the necessary details that were meant to contribute to

achieving that goal. In the case of Judaism, that translates into the difficulty of observing

its many laws while yet keeping an eye on the system’s overall goals and priorities.

Knowing the forest, understanding what Judaism wants of its adherents in broad

terms, can help several groups of people. First, and of greatest interest to this study, it

helps those who expend time and energy on acting Jewishly, in several ways. It eases

their reaping the intended benefits of the religion, since they know better how to direct

their efforts; it makes it more likely that they will recognize those benefits when they

accrue, since they will be on the lookout for them; and, finally, it helps them direct their

religious energies and priorities most effectively, avoiding the trap of getting caught up in

issues of relative unimportance while neglecting vital concerns.1

Those who see a need to change the religion, for whatever reason, can use this

work to tailor their suggested modifications so that they fit into the internal ethos of the

system, that what they think should change still maintains the system’s own perspective

and goals. It is easy to criticize a system by extrapolating from a particular detail to a

negative characterization—the religion is overly concerned with money, or it is sexist, or

racist, etc.—but those criticisms only deserve to be heard if they accurately understand
1
I mean here such incongruities as Jews who assiduously observe customs that arose late
in the evolution of Judaism while neglecting explicit Biblical imperatives.
2

the whole system. So, too, whatever changes critics might suggest need to “blend in with

the neighborhood,” as an architect might say, need to fit with the goals and values of the

rest of the system. This study hopes to provide a convenient summary of those positive

goals and values.

Finally, outsiders, those who do not partake of the religion either because of lack

of interest, education, or because they are not Jewish, can often be misled by the

particular observances of Judaism they see local Jews performing. It would be easy for

the casual observer to assume that Judaism is a religion of ritual, focusing primarily on

the Sabbath, holidays, and eating rules; we hope that this review will provide a broader

picture of the kind of people and community Judaism seeks to produce.

For all that the trees sometimes obscure the forest, they nonetheless are also what

produces the forest; trying to encapsulate the goals of Judaism can only proceed from

assembling its various laws into some kind of working whole. Just like a forest of

evergreens could not be said to have the goal of feeding a town, and a forest of fruit trees

could not have the goal of greening an area throughout the year, the goals of Biblical

Judaism cannot be separated from the laws that guide the Jew in achieving those goals.2

Clifford Geertz, the celebrated anthropologist, made much the same point in

introducing “thick description” as the best way for anthropologists to describe a culture.

By carefully watching the ceremonies and rituals of a society, and by understanding

natives’ view of that society, the outside observer could accurately portray and analyze it

for academic purposes. We are hoping here to provide a thick description of the positive
2
That the Torah sought to educate Jews already takes a stand on the issue of ta`amei
hamitsvot, the reasons for the commandments, but that is a topic best left for another
occasion. Readers will note that we have chosen to refer to the Torah as the source of
Jewish law, leaving for another time a fuller definition of God’s role in the legislation of
Torah law.
3

side of Judaism, to use its details to portray the system as a whole.

Thick description requires a judicious selection of only those details that usefully

inform us as to the larger issues, not including too many to be overwhelming, yet not

leaving out relevant information. With a culture as complex as Judaism, selection along

those lines is devilishly difficult. Let us spend a moment explaining how we cut that

material to a manageable size.

First, for reasons we will explain below, we have chosen to discuss only Biblical

Judaism, that originally legislated in the Torah. While we will analyze those laws within

using the Rabbinic tradition of what they meant, we will not discuss the many later layers

of Rabbinic legislation, which certainly affected and enriched the religion. Even so, we

are left with too much material to be digested usefully within a reasonably sized study.

The renowned twelfth-century halakhist and philosopher, Moses Maimonides,

provides a further way of subdividing Judaism into digestible portions in his enumeration

of the 613 commandments that the Talmud asserted could be found in the Torah,3 which

he called Sefer haMitsvot, the Book of the Commandments. To appreciate Maimonides’

comment, though, we need to remember that his enumeration assumes not only the

validity of the Talmudic claim that the Torah ordained 613 commandments, but also that

248 of them were positive commandments, meaning they require a person to take specific

action, and 365 were negative, meaning they prohibit certain actions.4

3
That there were definitely and only 613 commandments was also a matter of debate; see
Nahmanides’ questioning the assumption in his comments on the first of Maimonides’
introductory principles to the book.
4
Makkot 23b.
4

Positive and Negative Commandments—the Spiritual Difference

While both types of commandments are vital to a proper fulfillment of the

expectations of the religion, the Talmud’s delineating them separately reminds us that

they play different spiritual roles. Prohibitions set a base level of behavior; they establish

which actions contradict the values and ideals of the system. Carefully fulfilling those

laws demonstrates a Jew's submission to a Higher Will, but does not insert any positive

content into that Jew’s spiritual experience. It is observing the positive commandments,

we assume and assert, that transforms a Jew’s relationship with the Creator.

Refraining from eating non-kosher food, for example, obeys a Divine command.

While that obedience itself somewhat furthers a person’s relationship with God, it mostly

avoids the spiritual/ religious damage of ingesting a prohibited food.5 A Jew who only

avoided transgressions would not only be a partial Jew; he/she would have little if any

positive relationship with God.

That partial relationship would extend both from the Jew’s only observing a part

of the whole, but also from that Jew’s experiencing God only as a forbidding presence, a

strict disciplinarian who restricts His subjects’ lives in multiple and burdensome ways.

God’s many kindnesses that Judaism also emphasizes would escape such a person’s

notice completely. Since we seek a quick method of defining the kind of people Judaism

strives to mold in positive terms, we will look only at the positive side of the coin.

5
This would explain the greater severity of punishment for transgressing prohibitions as
well as the more burdensome requirements of teshuvah, repentance, for most such
transgressions. Since they defined a basic standard, violating them was akin to a crime.
The positive commandments (with the notable exceptions of circumcision and
participation in the Paschal sacrifice) delineated ways of reaching higher than the base;
while obligatory, a failure in observing them meant a failure to achieve a positive end,
but did not produce any directly negative results.
5

Two hundred forty eight commandments, while certainly less than the original

613, does not yet provide a manageable focus of study. Although an accurate

characterization of the Torah’s ideal spiritual goals for Jews would have to discuss all of

those, that project is still too lengthy for most people’s interests or for our goals here.

Maimonides helps us cut down the list further. At the end of the section of his

Book that describes the positive commandments, he mentions that many of them only

apply in certain times, places, or conditions—the vast majority of commandments related

to the Temple, for example, are no longer in force. Sixty of them, however, are

obligatory on all men everywhere and 46 on women. That list of sixty allows for the

exact kind of thick description of Positive Judaism that we seek.

Since our goal is to properly see both the forest and the trees, we will group the

commandments by common themes, allowing us to see how several commandments

work together towards a more general spiritual goal. Within a group, though, we will

look at each commandment on its own terms, to understand the central technical

requirements of the mitzvah, its laws or halakhot, as well as the broader goals that

mitsvah was trying to achieve. Along the way, as we note commandments from which

women are exempt, we hope to slowly build an understanding, from within the system, of

the assumed differences between the sexes. By the end of the study, we will have shown

which themes figure more and less prominently within the sixty and the forty-six,

showing the Torah’s central universal values and how it expected Jews to embody them.

Maimonides’ List

In relying so heavily on Maimonides’ list, we should nonetheless point out that

few authorities argued against his view that these acts were obligatory according to Torah
6

law (we will note those debates as they arise). Maimonides organized the material in a

particularly convenient way, but the items on his list are common to all. It is worth

stressing this point again: the issues we are reviewing here are what thousands of years of

Jews have assumed constitute the Torah’s expectations of Jews in all times and places.

Maimonides supplies mnemonics to remember the numbers sixty and forty-six

(the number of universal positive commandments for men and women respectively); his

comments about those mnemonics suggest that he, too, meant this list as more than just a

convenient subdivision of the commandments. He writes that the men’s sixty

commandments correspond to the verse “Shishim hema melakhot, there are sixty

queens.”6 These sixty commandments, he seems to be suggesting, are the queens of the

religion, in that they are always present in a Jew’s life.

For women, Maimonides offers two verses, first “ki azlat yad, for their power has

gone”7 a verse which, in its original context, clearly sees the loss of the yad as a tragedy.8

Translated to our context, that mnemonic would seem to say that women have yad (14 in

the numerological interpretation of Hebrew words) fewer commandments than do men,

that they are fourteen-sixtieths diminished from men’s Judaism. That ratifies the view of

many modern women, who believe that the religion legislates a lesser religious role for

them.

Maimonides’ second mnemonic for women’s forty-six mitsvot—and note that he

only gave one mnemonic for men-- cites the verse “gam at be-dam beritekh shilahti

6
Shir haShirim 6:8.
7
Devarim 32: 36.
8
See, for example, Sanhedrin 97a, where the Talmud offers different options for the kinds
of communal losses, all of them significant, that must precede the coming of the Messiah.
7

asirayikh, as for you also, through the blood of your covenant I have sent your captives

forth,”9 with the word be-dam (46 in the numerological reading) signifying the group of

mitsvot in which women are obligated. In this version, women’s mitsvot are a berit, a

covenant, which can provide redemption on its own, not just a pale shadow of the men’s

covenant. Maimonides explicitly (and redundantly) calls that group of 46 mitsvot “the

covenant in which they are obligated.”

Maimonides closes by saying “and this is what we wished to hint at with the

positive commandments and their number.” Given his penchant for oblique statements,

we suspect that he was signaling readers that these mnemonics were meant to convey

substantive messages, rather than just serving as a convenient memory device. This is

especially true in the case of women, where he provides two mnemonics, which view

women’s obligations differently, either as a loss of yad (14) from men’s mitsvot or a dam

(46) that creates a covenant of its own.

Considering their lesser set of obligations, it would be possible if not natural to

see women’s role as a deduction, as less than the “true” Judaism. Seen from another

perspective, though, the corpus of women’s mitsvot constitutes an independent unit, with

a meaning and message of its own. We hope, by the end of this study, to have teased

from the sources the positive meaning of Judaism for men as well as the positive,

although slightly different, meaning for women.

Torah Commandments Only

The last point, that this list will shed some light on why the Torah obligated

women in a different set of mitsvot than men, sits at the heart of the decision to restrict

ourselves to Torah commandments. Many elements of Judaism have become difficult for
9
Zekharyah 9:11.
8

modern minds to accept, but one of the repeated strategies of those who urge fundamental

systemic change has been to distinguish between Rabbinic and Biblical Judaism by

arguing that central Jewish views of the religious experience are “simply” Rabbinic. If

so, that view continues, what one group of people created—perhaps in ways specific to

the social circumstances under which they operated-- others can change.

Without conceding the claim, we here hope to avoid that issue by only studying

Torah- ordained observances, albeit as understood by tradition. Armed only with the

assumption that the Torah reflects Divine values and ideals, we can discuss what it

wanted from Jews without worrying about human intervention in the process. Studying

the Torah’s distinctions between men and women, we assume, will enlighten us as to the

Jewish view of how the two sexes are meant to differ from each other.

While on the topic of Biblical mitsvot, we should remember a cardinal principle of

the system, the fundamental equivalence of those mitsvot. Given a large group of

commands, humans naturally look to organize that group by importance; Jewish tradition

resisted such distinctions, equating all positive commandments.10 Despite sources that

give added importance to certain mitsvot, Jewish law generally sees each of these

commandments as an essential and important step on the road to whatever God wanted in

commanding the Torah. To reasonably encapsulate the Torah’s goals, we must track

themes that arise repeatedly across mitsvot; it is those ubiquitous elements of the system

that enunciate its goals in general.

The Structure of the Study

As we hope is obvious from the introduction thus far, this work intends to study
10
See Avot, 2:1, which warns readers to be as careful of a seemingly light mitsvah as an obviously
important one. Maimonides interestingly mentions studying the Hebrew language as an example of a
mitsvah qalah, a mitsvah that seems unimportant, although it is not clear that it is a mitsvah at all.
9

sixty separate mitsvot, to derive some sense of their purpose within the Biblical system,

and to group them with like mitsvot. Since Maimonides grouped his Book of the

Commandments by theme, some of our work has already been done for us. Indeed, at the

beginning of our analysis of each mitsvah, we will note its number in our list as well as in

Maimonides’ Book.

We do not intend, however, to simply recapitulate Maimonides’ views of the

various mitsvot; we believe we will often uncover meanings within the practical laws that

have not been articulated before (certainly not in English). To get to that meaning, we

will describe each mitsvah and its central halakhic components. Those components often

if not always yield a slightly different sense of the observance than the original

description alone; it is that newer understanding that we will animate our analysis.11

Because of the way we have structured the study, the easiest way to reap its full

benefits is to read it from beginning to end. For the ease of more casual readers,

however, we have organized the work to facilitate seeing the conclusions even without

following each step of the discussion.

First, we have divided the study into three parts, the first two of which each tackle

a relatively large set of mitsvot that are thematically related. The third part discusses five

smaller groups of mitsvot; none of those groups was large enough to demand separate

treatment. At the beginning and end of each of those parts, we have placed introductory

and summary discussions to smooth the way into the meat of the topics. In addition, we

have opened the presentation of each commandment with a brief description that captures

the main points to be elaborated on below.


11
Note that the thirteenth-century Sefer haHinukh, which we refer to often, offered a reason for each
mitsvah before mentioning laws; we are here trying to mention laws that show the truth of the underlying
reason we have named for each commandment.
10

This work, then, can be read in several ways, depending on each reader’s time and

interests. As with any book, its author hopes it will be read cover to cover. For those

with less time, the synopses at the beginning of each mitsvah, along with the various

introductions and summaries, will provide much of the experience. For those merely

skimming, this chapter, the introductions and the conclusion, will at least give the overall

tenor of the argument.

Briefly, we discovered that over thirty of Maimonides’ sixty universal

commandments focus on building a relationship with God in one of two ways. The first

group directly defines and builds a Jew’s relationship with and belief in God; the other

defines the various holidays, the frequent occasions that a Jew needs to stop ordinary life

in order to experience a particular type of closeness with God. It is also in those two

areas that most of the differences between men and women arise, allowing us to begin to

analyze that difference based on a sustained amount of material.

The other mitsvot break down into smaller units, each of which we will discuss in

its proper time. There are mitsvot that have to do with food, mitsvot that remind us of the

special role of the kohanim, the priests, in Jewish society, mitsvot connected to the

Temple (even in times of its destruction), and mitsvot that tell us how to build a proper

society and family.

In each of these sections, we will find aspects of proper Jewish practice that are

not obvious from the overall topic area. Only after having studied each will we be able to

produce an accurate picture of the Bible’s positive goals for its adherents.12

Eastern philosophies advocate living a mindful life, where a person is fully aware

12
A mode, I hasten to add, not significantly changed by Rabbinic law.
11

of each of his actions. Judaism, we hope to show, agrees, only it cares about a mind full

of God and the experience of God. By molding the Jew’s intellectual profile, by inserting

God-experiences regularly into the Jew’s life, by insuring that Jews maintain a memory

of the ideal society centered around a Temple in Jerusalem with priests running the

service, by making eating, building a society and a family all parts of the religious

experience, the religion looks to focus Jews on one common element, service of the

single God, Creator of Heaven and Earth.


12

PART I-COMMANDMENTS CONNECTED TO GOD

All the commandments in the first group directly discuss ways of relating to God.

The first fifteen positive commandments in Maimonides’ Book of the Commandments

also appear in his list of sixty.13 These are the obligations to: 1) Believe in God, 2)

Believe in His Absolute Unity, 3) Love Him, 4) Fear Him (recognizing His continuing

power to punish), 5) Worship God, including praying at least once daily, 6) Develop a

Continuing Relationship with Torah Scholars, 7) Swear in God’s Name, 8) Imitate God’s

Attributes, 9) Sanctify God’s Name, 10) Recite Shema Morning and Evening, 11) Study

Torah and Teach It, 12) Don Tefillin on the Head, 13) Lay Tefillin on the Arm, 14) Wear

Tsitsit, and 15) Place Mezuzot on the Doors and Gates of Jewish Cities.

Mitsvot 18 and 19 in Maimonides’ list, the requirement for every Jewish man to

write a Torah scroll, and to recite Grace After Meals, also belong in this group, since both

also serve to foster a relationship with God. Maimonides interprets the commandment to

write a Torah scroll as an adjunct to the mitsvah of studying Torah, as we will see. Grace

After Meals might be seen as being about eating, but Maimonides listed it between the

obligation to write a Torah and to build a Temple; context suggests that he saw it as

similar to those two in theme.

13
Presumably, he put them first because of their central importance to the system.
13

1)Commandment 1—Belief in God

Synopsis: The commandment to believe at least in a God who Causes the world’s
existence. In this case, we review several other views of the scope of the commandment,
ranging from minimal belief, to belief in God’s Creation of the World, taking the Jews
out of Egypt miraculously, and giving the Torah.

The first mitsvah in Maimonides’ list is to believe in God. When God led off the

Ten Commandments with the words “I am the Lord your God,”14 Maimonides (and

others) understood that as an order, not a statement of fact. In the Book of the

Commandments (henceforth Sefer haMitsvot), he expresses it as a requirement to believe

that there is a Cause and a Reason (God) and that this Cause moves, or animates, all that

exists.

That phrasing—which is the way Maimonides expresses himself in the Mishneh

Torah, his Code of Jewish Law as well—only postulates a rather distant God, one with

little direct impact on the world. It requires belief in a Cause that underlies all that exists

(an idea Aristotle also accepted), and calls that Cause God. As Maimonides expresses it

in this commandment, there is no requirement to consider how God affects daily life.

Although much of Maimonides’ formulation in the Mishneh Torah echoes the

Sefer haMitsvot, one phrase departs strikingly from that perspective. Sefer haMitsvot

speaks of the commandment is “to believe,” while Mishneh Torah15 uses the term leda, to

know. To make sure we notice the change, Maimonides uses that word both in the

heading of the section (the koteret), which briefly lists the commandments incorporated

in that section, as well as in the body of the text, which he introduces with the words

“The foundation of all foundations and the pillar of wisdoms is to know that there is a

14
Exodus, 20:2.
15
Hilkhot Yesodei haTorah 1:1
14

First Existent…”

Basic assumptions about Maimonides will affect which of the several possible

explanations for the switch that a person finds convincing. Many academic scholars

assume that Maimonides secretly adhered to an Aristotelian version of God; for them,

these statements simply reflect his actual beliefs.

The weakness of that claim is that it ignores later commandments where

Maimonides assumes a deeper connection between the Creator and the world than

allowed in the Aristotelian view, as we will see. On the other hand, those who would

represent Maimonides as seeing God as more involved in the world need to explain why

he refers only to a Prime Cause here.

To answer that question, we would first point out that this commandment is

uncomfortably similar to others; in fact, some other mitsvot, such as believing in God’s

Unity, loving Him, and fearing Him, could completely subsume this one. Those later

commandments all also assume that God plays a more active role in the world than just

that of Prime Mover. Perhaps, then, Maimonides defined it narrowly to differentiate it

from the others. This mitsvah speaks of the narrow fundamentals of a God, with the

others expanding that belief in various ways.

His demand of knowledge may be an attempt to explain why the Torah would

command a minimal view of God as a separate commandment. Remembering that

Maimonides gave an Aristotelian definition of God for what a Jew is required to know,

and that he saw Aristotle as the benchmark of what human intellect could find by reason

alone, suggests that he envisioned this mitsvah as obligating Jews in that awareness of

God that any intelligent human being would realize on his own. This mitsvah, then, was
15

for a Jew to be as certain of God’s existence as other intelligent human beings. Other

aspects of the Jewish engagement with God could be left for later mitsvot.

Maimonides' perspective clashes with that of Nahmanides16 and Sefer haHinukh, a

thirteenth century enumeration of the mitsvot arranged by the order of the weekly Torah

readings.17 Although agreeing with Maimonides that the verse indicates a command,18

Nahmanides adds that the mitsvah also requires the belief that God took the Jews out of

Egypt.

Textually, that explains the Scriptural verse more completely than did

Maimonides, since it takes account of both "I am the Lord your God," and the words that

follow, "Who took you out of the Land of Egypt." That leads Nahmanides to include a

belief in the Creation of the World in this commandment, since he sees the Exodus as a

proof of God’s power to perform miracles, a power that in his view depends on God’s

having created the world ex nihilo, from a state of complete nonexistence.19

God's omnipotence also necessarily implies his yihud, his Absolute Unity,

presumably because only a Being so different from people in His lack of physicality and
16
In his Commentary on Exodus 20:2, as well as in his glosses on the Sefer haMitsvot,
first on this commandment in the section on mitsvot `aseh, positive commandments, and
then in his first gloss on prohibitions, lo ta`aseh 5.
17
Mitsvah 25.
18
As opposed to the Halakhot Gedolot, a Geonic enumeration of the 613 coimandments.
Nahmanides defends the author of that work, known as Behag, by saying that he viewed
belief in God as underlying all the commandments, not as a separate obligation of its
own. As we have seen, the question of why it should be its own commandment animates
Maimonides' and Nahmanides' discussions as well.
19
For more on Nahmanides' view of miracles, see D. Berger, " " R. Moses b. Nahman
(RAMBAN): Explorations in his Religious and Literary Virtuousity, ed. I. Twersky
(Harvard U. Press: Cambridge, 19), . Maimonides' view of Creation ex nihilo is less clear
than Nahmanides'; based on his discussion in the Guide, scholars have argued for each of
three positions.
16

divisions would have the power to act as God did. Rather than Maimonidean

minimalism, these authorities viewed the obligation maximally; a Jew, for these authors,

believes in an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-present God Who affects matters on Earth on

a regular basis.

One other perspective worth mentioning sees this mitzvah as having less to do

with God’s existence than with His commanding the Torah. R. Nissim Gerondi (Ran), a

fourteenth century Spanish Talmudist and thinker, asserts that the references to God’s

existence and to His taking the Jews out of Egypt were to verify that the Torah the Jews

were receiving came directly from Him.20 The mitsvah is not only to know that God

exists and engaged mankind historically, but that Jews’ central national document was

given by that same Being.

Sefer haHinukh defines belief in a useful way, with both an internal and an

external component. Internally, the mitsvah is to establish propositions about God firmly

in one's mind and heart, recognizing that no other set of ideas could be true. Externally,

belief means that the person always verbally assumes the existence and power of God,

particularly in answering questions on any related topic. The Hinukh adds “if he will

merit (or succeed) to rise in the levels of wisdom, and will use his heart to understand and

his eyes to see with a firm proof that this belief is true and clear, no other possibility

could be true, then he will have fulfilled the mitzvah in the best way.”

His assumption that there are levels of belief in which one can grow over time,

raises the issue of how one grows in the fulfillment of the commandment. He gave one

useful answer, to verbally assert that belief whenever occasion arises. People are shaped,

as the Hinukh writes on numerous occasions, by their words and actions. The more that a
20
Derashot haRan, ed. L. Feldman (Jerusalem, 1977), p. 157.
17

Jew speaks confidently of God's existence, the more he himself will actually believe it.

Rather than being an exercise in self-hypnosis, we understand the Hinukh to be

saying that belief depends perspective. A person who consistently seeks explanations for

the world that ignore God will cease to believe in Him; others, who see God’s relevance

to the world, will find that belief fortified. The obligation to establish one’s belief in

God, according to the Hinukh, includes the obligation to view the world in a way that

supports that belief.

Whether this mitsvah obligates minimal or maximal belief in God, clearly some

kind of belief is an unquestioned necessity of the system. That necessity occupies an

even more important place in Jewish law and thought than comparable mitsvot--

Maimonides included this belief among the thirteen necessary ones for every Jew, and

Sefer haHinukh points out that someone who does not maintain this belief is a heretic and

loses much of his right to membership in the Jewish people. For these authorities, a Jew

who denies the existence of God crosses a line from incomplete observance of the system

to having left the system completely. Bare belief is not the goal, however, and coming

mitsvot elaborate the kind of belief being sought, even according to Maimonides.

2—Yihud Hashem, Belief in the Absolute Unity of God

Synopsis: The obligation to believe in God’s Absolute Unity, a term that means more
than just the belief in one God as opposed to many, as defined below.

Maimonides' description of how to fulfill this mitsvah, along with the previous

one, occupies the bulk of the first chapter of his Mishneh Torah. Not surprisingly, he

cites the end of the famous first verse of the Shema, “the Lord, Our God, the Lord is

One,” as the source of the commandment. For Maimonides, those words, like the first

words of the Ten Commandments, not only state a fact, but command a certain belief.
18

Like so many mitsvot, this is easier said than fully defined. While God’s Oneness

most obviously means that there is one God as opposed to two or many, Maimonides

takes ahdut, oneness or unity, further than that. He envisions the command as including

the belief that God has no parts or constituent units-- so that the Trinity, for example,

would not qualify as a belief in One God. For Maimonides, God is an Absolute Unity,

with no divisions in that Oneness.21

Absolute Unity also means that God has no limits or end, meaning He has no

body (since a body, by definition, has an end-point). Shema did not only deny the

possibility that idols actually represent God; for Maimonides, the words deny the

existence of any physical component to God, since that would limit Him and His Unity.

Maimonides’ presentation of God’s unity creates a problem for human beings in

their attempts to relate to Him, not least in rendering problematic any application of

gender to God. Since humans only know of an existence in which everything has some

physical aspect, we are unable to develop a meaningful conception of a non-physical

Being.

Maimonides22 recognizes this problem in his reading of Isaiah 40;25, “ve-el mi

tedamyuni ve-eshveh, to whom can you compare Me and I will be comparable.” At the

simplest level, the verse denies idolatry, since none of the other gods are as powerful as

the True God. His citing the verse in this context adds the recognition that human beings

do not possess any meaningful way to characterize God. Despite the world being full of

His Glory (as another verse says), God is so distinctly Other that humans cannot
21
Nahmanides, as we mentioned in the previous mitsvah, thought God's omnipotence
extended from that Oneness.
22
Laws of Foundations of the Torah 1;8.
19

comprehend, witness, envision, or grasp that Glory in any accurate way.

God's Otherness also leads to the necessary failure of any human attempt to

accurately discuss God. God does not speak, or act, or anything, in the way humans

might think; all expressions about God are simply concessions to the needs of human

vocabulary. Indeed, Maimonides spends the bulk of the first section of his Guide

reinterpreting terms in Scripture that indicate a physical aspect or occurrence in

relationship to God. 23

Sefer haHinukh stresses that this mitsvah, also, sits at the center of the religion,

that denying God’s unity is a denial of the faith as a whole, rendering meaningless any

mitsvot such a person performs. He, of course, was writing in a Christian context, where

the pressure to convert to a religion that believed in a Trinity and the issue of

fundamentals of faith was burningly alive. Whether or not moderns emphasize it as

much as Sefer haHinukh, the fundamental message that observance of mitsvot must be in

engagement with a Creator as defined by Judaism—one who is absolutely unified—


23
One specific example of the challenge of relating to God comes in the context of
Moses’ request (on Mount Sinai, after the Sin of the Golden Calf) “har’eni na et
kevodekha, show Me your Glory,” Exodus 33:18. Maimonides separates this request from
that of “hodi`eni na et derakhekha, tell me your Ways,” Exodus 33:13. The latter is a
request for insight into the standards of justice and kindness that characterize this world,
information that is more accessible to humans than the first request. Maimonides takes
kavod, however, to mean something more essential to the focus of the request, by
redefining the verb “to know.”
For Maimonides, knowledge of another means the ability to recognize that
person, to distinguish him or her from others, even those with perhaps similar faces. It
was this kind of knowledge Moses sought, and that God informed him would tax his
human abilities too greatly. Maimonides sees that knowledge as indicating that there is a
separate space in one’s intellect for that person.
Moses, Maimonides claims, was trying to attain such knowledge of God that he
could develop a similar space in his brain for God as for any other friend. His reading
finesses the issue of “showing God’s Glory,” as Moses seems to request. He has found a
meaning for what it would mean to “know” God, or anything else, without descending
into the physical. For the full discussion, including his explanation of God’s response, see
Laws of Foundations of the Torah 1;10.
20

nonetheless applies to all Jews everywhere, and must be a part of any picture of the goals

of the religion in the Torah.

3—Love of God

Synopsis: The discussion elaborates on what it would mean to love a Creator Who is
inherently Other.

The commandment to love God, also codified in words of the Shema that are

recited morning and evening, “ve-ahavta et Hashem Elokekha you shall love the Lord

your God,” presents two related challenges.24 First, it is always surprising to find God

commanding emotions, since those would seem to be less malleable than actions. We

can easily understand how God could command Jews to give money to charity, for

example, but commanding love seems more problematic.

Second, defining love of God presents serious difficulties. Love ordinarily

involves a sense of deep identification and connection with someone or something else;

that connection itself (whether based on blood relationship, living together, or shared

interests) fosters the feelings of love. Since the previous mitsvah just stressed God's

Otherness, we need a clearer definition of the love commanded here.

Tradition offers two different answers. In their comments on that verse, the

Biblical exegetes Rashi and Nahmanides both assume that ve-ahavta refers to performing

the mitsvot me-ahavah, out of love, which they defined as without any ulterior motive.

This view relates ahavah, love, to the notion of lishmah, of performing the

commandments simply because God said to, not for the rewards of honor, wealth, health,

24
Deuteronomy, 6:5. For the obligation to recite the Shema, see below, mitsvah 10.
21

or whatever other good is seen as the reward for that performance.25 The love of ve-

ahavta, for these commentators, is a love expressed in action, not emotion.

Maimonides, in brief in the Sefer haMitsvot and at greater length in the beginning

of the Mishneh Torah, mentions two kinds of ahavah, each of which comes closer to

ordinary human love than that suggested by Rashi and Nahmanides. First, he notes that

contemplating the wonders of the universe that God created engenders a sense of love for

the One who put all this into place.26 This seems to parallel a certain kind of human love,

one in which the love stems from a longstanding relationship of giving. This is not,

perhaps, the hit-you-over-the-head variety of love that Hollywood would like to pretend

fuels marriages, but it is a kind of love that many people feel towards their various

benefactors in life (including their spouses).

Rachel Naomi Remen tells a beautiful story that captures this kind of love; it

begins with a woman nursing a homosexual man who was dying of AIDS. 27 As the man's

health declined, he needed the kind of care that could only be administered by someone

who was living with him in his house. After much thought, the woman decided to take

on this role, although it meant a great effort on her part. One day towards the end of his

25
Judaism’s preference for fulfilling mitsvot out of pure obedience or love seems to run
counter to the whole endeavor of ta`amei hamitsvot, of finding reasons and rationales for
the commandments, that sits at the base of this monograph, and that informs much of
Jewish observance. Today, for example, an observant person speaking to a nonobservant
one could probably offer reasons to explain all of the practices of the religion he or she
observes. Rashi’s, and tradition generally’s, preference for observance lishmah, without
ulterior motive, seems to denigrate those who keep mitsvot for any of those reasons.
While this topic is debated, one answer would be that those reasons are acceptable as
spurs to observance, but should not be the sole reason for one’s observance of the
commandment.
26
The experience also fuels yir’ah, awe or fear, as we will discuss in the next mitzvah.
27
The story appears in Rachel Naomi Remen, My Grandfather's Blessings.
22

life, when she arrived home, she discovered that he had dressed and shaved himself (a

great effort at that stage of his illness), and was waiting downstairs for her.

When she entered the house, he got down on one knee and proposed marriage to

her. The love that had been built between them started (I have no knowledge of the other

factors that entered their relationship) from the kindnesses this woman performed for

him. While that might only be the starting point of love, Maimonides implies that a Jew

should start building love for the Creator in the same way, contemplating His kindnesses

and the wondrous nature of the world He created.

Maimonides also describes constantly thinking about God, as if the Creator were

the object of one's affections, as either itself being love of God or helping to build it.

Maimonides, the arch-rationalist, actually gives the example of a lovesick man, who

thinks about his beloved constantly. While Maimonides thinks that these thoughts need

to be educated contemplations of God-- simply walking around thinking "I love you,

God" does not qualify-- the basic principle seems to be that acting as if one is in love will

lead towards actual love. Just as constancy of concern and thought characterizes human

love, it should also characterize a relationship with God.

Maimonides has thus offered two models for how to act in a way that is

meaningfully referred to as love, even while recognizing that people cannot truly develop

that emotion for a Creator they cannot know. People can only know the Creator's

handiwork (in some sense) by studying the universe with an eye towards appreciating its

Cause and, from that perspective, act as if in love, which, in some sense, is as good as so

being.
23

The nineteenth century Sfas Emes, written by the leader of Gerer Hasidism,

questions how the Torah could command an emotion,28 and responds that the Torah thus

reveals that it is within human powers to fulfill that obligation. In this view, people can

actually create (manufacture?) or practice the emotion of love to such an extent that they

will actually feel it. If the source of faith is faith itself, the source of love might be

actions of love.

This mitsvah perhaps also gives some insight into why God created the emotion at

all. In trying to figure out how to connect to the Creator, the love people feel for those

around them naturally serves as a model for how to achieve love of God, since that is the

only love they know. It is possible, then, that God incorporated love for others not only

for its survival value—it leads to parents protecting children, families protecting and

helping each other, and so on—but also to help people understand how to foster the

proper relationship with Him. As humans love their spouses, parents, children, relatives,

friends, and strangers, they might be growing not only in their general humanity, but in

their ability to love God as well.

4—Fear of God

Synopsis: Complementing the discussion of love, this mitsvah points out a


requirement of yir’ah of God, awe or fear. The discussion notes three definitions of such
fear that Maimonides offers.

In his Code, Maimonides reads yir’ah, the word the Bible uses, as something

more similar to awe than to fear. He groups awe with love, seeing both as stemming

from a proper examination of the created universe. In the previous mitsvah we noted that

such contemplation can lead to love or at least a deep desire to know the Creator of that

universe. Along with that desire for closeness, he believes humans will recognize their
28
First mentioned to me by my friend Eli Weber.
24

lowliness as compared to Him, a lowliness expressed both in their imperfection and in

their lacking any meaningful power as compared to His.

Maimonides’ vision of Creation as sources of ahavah and yir’ah might explain

why he opens the Code with three chapters offering a thumbnail sketch of the universe as

he understood it.29 Considering that the Code is ostensibly a work of Jewish law, the

discussion reminds us that Maimonides viewed thinking about the relationship between

God and this world as an act of mitsvah observance. Studying God-issues and the world

were not only intellectual challenges; they helped a person deepen his or her love of God,

as well as to better experience the Creator with the proper awe.

In contrast to the Mishneh Torah, in the Sefer haMitsvot Maimonides stresses

yir’ah as fear. He requires fearing God, so as to avoid becoming like those heretics who

do as they please “be-keri,” which for Maimonides means that they assume that the
29
Chapter 2 describes the world of the angels, which he pictured as real beings, although
(like God) completely nonphysical; they differ from each other only in their level of
knowledge of God. Maimonides considers the angels, their nature and makeup, as what
the Rabbis meant when they spoke of Ma`aseh Merkavah, the Working of the Chariot.
The term comes from the first prophecy of Ezekiel, where the prophet has a vision of a
chariot that supports God, with various figures and parts to that chariot. In the Talmud's
view, that vision represents some kind of deeply esoteric knowledge about the structure
of God’s relationship to the universe, including the ministering angels and their role.
Maimonides, although speaking in very different terminology, assumes that his brief
investigation strikes to the same issue.
As he notes at the end of chapter 2, the Talmud ruled that such matters should
only be discussed on a one-to-one basis, and only with someone who has already proven
himself capable of understanding these issues on his own. For such a person, a brief
indication of a deeper truth would suffice to lead to the next stage of comprehension.
Maimonides is therefore very brief, almost cryptic; luckily, our goal here is not to outline
God's relationship to the world. The early chapters of the 3rd part of the Guide provide a
more in-depth analysis of Ezekiel's vision.
Another fuel to ahavah and yir’ah, which Maimonides delves into in greater
detail, is Ma`aseh Bereshit, literally the sections of Genesis that describe the Creation of
the World. This, too, the Rabbis prohibited teaching in public. For Maimonides, that
meant Aristotelian physics; for us, it might mean quantum physics, cosmology,
astronomy, and so on.
25

world is governed by chance rather than by God.30 Being aware that God punishes

evildoers is, for Maimonides, essential to yir’ah; denying that truth characterizes those

who act in an evil fashion.

At the end of the Laws of Repentance, Maimonides offers yet another definition

of yir’ah, this one giving it a more positive spiritual role. In that source, he says that

someone who fulfills all the commandments in order to achieve some goal— she-lo

lishmah, as we discussed earlier-- is only serving mi-yir’ah. Yir'ah thus means not only

awe or fear, but indicates action that is less than fully pure, although it may be wholly

positive.31 Yir'ah is the religious path most people tread for most of their lives.

Yir'ah thus has at least three meanings in Maimonides’ presentations alone. It can

imply the fear of punishment, a fear that assumes that God is actively involved enough in

the world as to punish transgressions. It can describe the awe-filled reaction of man

when confronting the greatness of the Creator. Finally, yir'ah might be the state occupied

even by most religious people, whose worship is tainted with some desire to achieve

tangible rewards of observance.

Although both fear and love create difficulties of definition, the reminder that

they are part of the commanded relationship between a Jew and God has broad

ramifications for our reading of the rest of the system. Whatever particular details other
30
1:3. The word appears in Leviticus, 26:21, and was interpreted in various ways. In the
Bible, God promises to act the same way with those who walk with Him be-keri. At the
beginning of Hilkhot Ta`anit, Laws of Fasts Maimonides cites the verse when he speaks
of people who attribute tragedies that befall them to happenstance, suggesting that he saw
the word as meaning happenstance. In our context, then, it would mean those who
assume the world is governed by chance and therefore do as they please.

Incidentally, this also suggests that Maimonides might have agreed with Rashi and
31

Nahmanides that actions performed lishman, only for the sake of keeping God’s mitsvot,
would qualify as ahavah, love.
26

mitsvot demand, an underlying element of the system is necessarily that it be observed

with a certain mind-set towards God, and, probably, that it serve to foster the growth of

that mind-set, that of love and fear.

5)5—Avodat Hashem, Worshipping God

Synopsis: The prime example of the mitsvah, prayer, shows that service involves
recognizing God’s presence and impact on the world. So, too, study qualifies as a way of
experiencing that impact as well.

A technical aspect of Maimonides’ inclusion of this commandment in his work

will help us better understand how he conceived the mitsvah. At the beginning of his

Sefer haMitsvot, Maimonides wanted to explain why his enumeration of mitsvot would

differ from those offered by earlier authorities, particularly the ninth century Halakhot

Gedolot. To explain how he arrived at his count, he enunciated fourteen shorashim,

principles, for how to count mitsvot de-‘oraita, commandments of the Torah.32

In the fourth of those principles, he excludes overarching principles of Jewish life

from counting as a mitsvah among the 613. That explains, for example, his omission of

“Kedoshim tihyu, you shall be holy,”33 from the count. He does not mean that this and

similar statements are not obligatory as far as the Torah was concerned, just that they do

not qualify for the Talmudic count of 613. Some have suggested that this rule also led

Maimonides to omit the commandment to settle the Land of Israel, since that, too,

encompasses the whole Torah.34


32
These principles themselves, with Nahmanides’ lengthy glosses, can and have
stimulated many productive discussions, since they reveal the two scholars’ views of
global issues regarding the nature of mitsvot and their codification; as they are technical
in nature, a full discussion of them is beyond our present scope.
33
Leviticus, 14:2.
34
Before we look at how that issue affects this particular mitsvah, we should note how it
alters our understanding of the whole notion of 613 mitsvot in the Torah. It does not
27

Returning to the mitsvah of serving God, the standard of leaving out general

mitsvot should have excluded this one as well. Maimonides explains that he includes it

only because there is also a specific obligatory act, prayer, which qualifies as fulfillment

of the commandment.35 He notes that the Rabbis of the Talmud refer to prayer as the

definition of `avodah; since `avodah can both narrowly define one specific obligation as

well as express a general value of the system, he can include it in the list.

Maimonides adds that the Rabbis elsewhere call study of Torah the definition of

`avodah. Our discussion here will consider how each of these qualifies as service, in turn

clarifying what service of God means generally as well as how prayer serves as the

centerpiece of the commandment.

In the first chapter of the Laws of Prayer, Maimonides defines prayer as

petitioning God at least once a day. That petition was supposed to have a specific

structure, opening with words of praise, making a request, and then closing with thanks

and praise for the blessings God already provides in one’s life. Apparently, asking God

for help with some need is not only a possibly effective act for achieving some purpose, it

also has religious value.

mean, apparently, that there are only 613 obligations in the Torah; there might be many
more than that. It does not even mean that these are the 613 most important ideas in the
Torah, since some of the most general and important commandments would be left off as
too all encompassing. Even had this work analyzed all 613, then, it would not have
encompassed all of the Torah. Our analysis of sixty, then, is only more partial than that
of all 613, not partial as opposed to complete.
35
That a certain act can turn a mitsvah hakolelet kol haTorah, a commandment that
encompasses the entirety of the Torah, into a mitsvah that makes it onto the list might
also explain the mitsvot we have seen so far, such as ahavat Hashem, love of God. Those
mitsvot were also ones that in some sense included the entire Torah. Maimonides would,
however, say that the contemplation of the world and the focusing of one’s attention on
God constitute obligatory acts that therefore render them ripe for inclusion.
28

By daily considering one’s needs and turning to God for assistance in fulfilling

them, a person (without relinquishing any responsibility to work to achieve those ends

him or herself) articulates human beings’ dependence on God. Verbally recognizing and

emotionally experiencing that dependence constitutes an act of `avodah. In a life where

people can too easily come to believe that human efforts alone bring about the results

those humans want, the conscious insistence that God plays a role as well is an act of

worship of the highest order.

Study, the other example of `avodah Maimonides mentions, works differently;

there, the worship stems from investing oneself in the understanding of God’s Word and

the religious system that Word set up. Even so, study, like prayer, helps insure that one’s

life is filled with thoughts of God and maintains His centrality in one’s existence, by

striving to understand His communication to Jews.

The view that the mitsvah of prayer focuses on asserting dependence on God

supports a famous idea articulated by the late Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik. It is well-

known that Nahmanides disagreed with Maimonides about whether prayer was

obligatory, believing instead that the Torah only required prayer in times of particular

distress.36 Rabbi Soloveitchik suggested that Maimonides and Nahmanides did not

disagree in principle, but that Maimonides required every Jew to daily experience him or

her self as in sufficient distress to call out to God. That would make particular sense if

Maimonides saw the commandment as requiring Jews to increase their sense of the

presence of God—part of that endeavor would be to experience all personal needs as

situations where God’s involvement is essential.

This is pretty heady stuff, particularly coming from Maimonides, who so often
36
As he explains in his gloss to that mitsvah.
29

elsewhere emphasizes humans’ inability to make any positive statements about God.

Noting that element of his thought, academics tend to assume that Maimonides saw God

as completely uninvolved in the world, since any involvement would imply change in a

perfect God. The mitsvah of prayer suggests that the academics are only half-right.

Maimonides indeed sees God as fully Other, fully perfect and unchanging.

At the same time, in a way he would not dare define since he believed it was

impossible to make fully accurate positive statements about God, I read Maimonides as

believing that God was immanent in this world, involved, and the source of our salvation

from every distress. How the two go together is another mystery impenetrable because of

God’s difference from anything that humans know in their physical universe. While His

Oneness and Uniqueness poses a challenge in developing a relationship with such an

Otherly Being, the obligations of love, fear, and now service pull in the other direction.

This last one, in particular, requires Jews to engage God to the extent possible, turning to

Him with their needs, relying on Him for their salvation.

6) 6 & 7— Attaching Oneself to Sages and Swearing in God’s Name

Synopsis: To cling to God, either only by developing a close relationship with Torah
scholars, or also by swearing in God’s Name when pressed to prove the truth of one’s
statements.

We have combined these two mitsvot because Nahmanides denies that the verse in

question enunciates separate obligations. Maimonides defines the first of the two he sees

in the verse as the obligation to place oneself in the same social circle as talmidei

hakhamim, Torah scholars. Nahmanides agrees that that is obligatory, based on the words

"u-vo tidbak, and you shall cleave to Him."37 Since it is impossible to cleave to God,
37
Deuteronomy 10:20. Variations appear elsewhere in the Torah as well.
30

tradition offered cleaving to scholars as the reasonable substitute intended by the Torah.

The second mitsvah commands swearing in God’s Name whenever the occasion

arises that one has to strenuously verify the truth of a certain proposition. Maimonides

sees that as implying a prohibition against swearing by any other yardstick of truth. His

words suggest that he was focused on the mitsvah as obligating Jews to both believe and

demonstrate by their actions that God is the only legitimate source of truth.

Sefer haHinukh, Mitsvah 435, focuses differently, asserting that the person

swearing in God’s Name reminds himself of God’s existence and Providence. In that

view, the mitsvah helps the person taking the oath, rather than having that person serve

God’s purposes in the world at large with his oath.

Nahmanides disagrees, accepting only that the Torah means to permit swearing in

God’s Name, not to command doing so. He explains those verses that seem to command

swearing in God’s Name as details of the more general commandment to cleave to Him.

For Nahmanides, in fact, only someone who has already developed a high level of

attachment to God has the right to swear in His name.

Partially, Nahmanides’ view stems from his variant text of the Talmud,38 but he

also seems to argue with Maimonides about the religious value of swearing in God’s

Name. For Maimonides, such oaths demonstrated recognition of God as Ultimate Truth;

Nahmanides saw them as the result of a long process of achieving true closeness to God.

To return to their area of agreement, staying close to Torah scholars as a

substitute for cleaving to God Himself, Maimonides sees the mitsvah as an obligatory

way to improve oneself.39 Since the members of a person’s social circle shape his or her
38
Temurah 3b.
39
In both the Sefer haMitsvot and the sixth chapter of Hilkhot De`ot.
31

thoughts, opinions, character traits, and actions, the Torah orders Jews to insure that

scholars are included in that circle. Close contact with such people on a regular basis

allows a Jew to learn from their actions, their character, and their beliefs, and apply those

lessons to his or her own life.40

Maimonides’ belief that a relationship with Torah scholars will improve a person

broadly, not just intellectually or by giving specific knowledge, becomes more

remarkable when we note that Sefer haHinukh concentrates on intellectual benefits of

such an interaction. In defining the mitsvah, Sefer haHinukh says that these scholars

teach how to perform mitsvot and the proper beliefs for a Jew to uphold.41 Possibly, the

Hinukh assumed that learning about mitsvot covered all proper actions and that learning

proper beliefs and the ways of God covered all areas of character as well. Taking his

words at face value, though, he is notably more intellectually focused than Maimonides,

who focused on general character and actions as well, without limiting himself to a

religious context.

Sefer haHinukh also treats women differently than Maimonides. Maimonides,

despite having lived in a highly segregated society, did not distinguish between the

genders, implying that he expected women, however they could appropriately do so, to

secure the educational value of socializing with Torah scholars. Sefer haHinukh only

40
Maimonides defines what scholars teach in two different ways. In the Sefer haMitsvot,
he mentions ways of acting and of thinking about the world, meaning that scholars teach
lessons of action, moral character, and intellect. In Hilkhot De`ot, he mentions only
de`ot, character traits, and ma`asim, actions, although that is probably only because that
is his topic in that section of his Code, not because he had changed his mind and limited
what can be learned from a talmid hakham.

Mitsvah 434. When he gets to the purpose of the mitsvah, he says that by associating
41

with scholars, a Jew will gain knowledge of the ways of God.


32

notes that women should also make an effort to get to hear Torah scholars, which almost

sounds as if they are exempt from the mitsvah, but that it is a good idea.

Maimonides gives two examples of how to fulfill the mitsvah that are interesting

because they might easily be seen as expressing other values. First, he says that the

obligation to cling to Torah scholars means that men should try to marry the daughter of a

scholar and also try to marry their daughters to (or encourage their daughters to marry)

such scholars. Without Maimonides, we might easily have assumed that the Talmudic

sayings that recommended such marriages were advice about how to insure a happy

marriage or to produce offspring who would be a source of pride and joy.

Similarly, Maimonides encourages investing scholars’ money or going into

business with them, which on its face seems to be an alternative to giving them charity.

We would especially have guessed that that was what Maimonides meant by that urging,

since he virulently objected to scholars’ taking money from communal charity funds.

Nonetheless, Maimonides instead phrases the value of these actions in their insuring that

the person will spend time with that scholar, creating more opportunities to learn from

him.

Whether or not the Torah demanded that Jews verbally express their connection to

God through oaths, the discussion of this verse has unequivocally informed us that the

Torah wanted Jews to develop a social circle that includes those who will, by their ideas,

character, and actions, help others elevate themselves. Many people can perform that

function in various ways, but the Torah focused on Torah scholars as the surest vehicle to

the kind of growth the Torah hoped to maintain in Jews’ lives.

7)8--To Mold One’s Character to Become “Similar" to Him


33

Synopsis: Based on Scriptural examples of God’s action in the world, Jews must strive to
become more like God in their characters and actions.

The eighth mitsvah adjures Jews la-lekhet bi-drakhav, to follow His ways. We

might assume that that is limited to acting in ways directly identifiable with God, such as

keeping mitsvot, the “ways” God ordained for Jews.42 Maimonides, based on several

rabbinic statements, applied the obligation to character as well, so that the obligation

requires developing one’s character in a Godly fashion. Maimonides’ Aristotelianism

comes to the fore in his definition of proper character, cultivating the middle path in

developing each of one’s traits.

The middle path, for those not familiar with the term, was the Aristotelian ideal of

character. It meant balancing the extreme strategies on any issue, and adopting a path

that took account of both but leaned toward neither. In the question of spending money,

for example, Maimonides and Aristotle would approve of someone who was neither

profligate nor miserly, but right in the middle. According to Maimonides, that is not only

the best way for human beings to act in a secular sense, it fulfills the Torah's

commandment to follow God's ways.

Maimonides presents the issue with notable differences in his various writings. In

the Sefer haMitsvot, which he wrote before the Mishneh Torah, Maimonides cites a

version of this notion that appears in the Midrash43 but not the Talmud. Commenting on

the key words in the obligation, la-lekhet be-khol derakhav, to walk in all His ways,44 the

Midrash says, “Just as He is called hanun (compassionate), so you be hanun; just as He is


42
That would also explain why the Hinukh focused on learning about mitsvot from
scholars, where Maimonides had spoken of learning proper ways to act generally.
43
Yalkut Shimoni Parshat Ekev, Paragraph 873.
44
Deuteronomy 10:12 and 11:22
34

called, etc.”

That expression does not claim that God is compassionate, merciful, or any of the

other listed character traits, just that he is called such. Given Maimonides’ theological

concerns about ascribing emotions and actions to God—a perfect Being would be

completely unchanged and unchanging, in his view—the Midrash’s care in saying that

God is called those characteristics is important. It maintains, for Maimonides, a vital

distinction between God and humans; Scripture uses certain words for God not because

they correctly describe Him but because they instruct people as to how to best improve

their character.

Two other sources complicate the picture. First, the Talmud's words, which

Maimonides refers to in the Sefer haMitsvot, ignore that distinction.45 Based on the verse,

“Aharei Hashem Elokeikhem telekhu, You shall follow after the Lord Your God,”46 the

Talmud says that just as God clothes the naked (as He did with Adam and Eve), visits the

sick (Abraham after his circumcision), and comforts the bereaved (after Sarah died), so

too humans must perform all those deeds.

We could perhaps avoid the full consequences of the statement by assuming that

even the Talmud only meant that Scripture describes God as doing so. As long as we

maintain that "acting like God" is a Scriptural term, the obligation to imitate God would

mean that Jews are meant to study Scripture to see how God is described as acting, and

develop traits of character that would lead to acting similarly. Maimonides might even

claim that Scripture described God as acting and having emotions to allow humans to

45
Sotah 14a.
46
Devarim 14; 5.
35

understand how to develop themselves properly.

One more text forces us to move beyond the Scriptural, to recognize another

legitimate source of information on how to act in a God-like fashion. The Talmud cites

Abba Shaul who, based on the verse “zeh eli ve-anvehu, this is my God and I will glorify

Him,”47 says that just as God is hanun, so, too, Jews have to be hanun, and so on.48 Here,

the verse in question does not specify acting like God, it only speaks of identifying and

glorifying Him. When Abba Shaul says that that means being merciful, etc., he seems to

assume that those terms are accurate descriptions of God, not just those that humans can

understand.

In Guide I; 54, Maimonides explains this and similar statements about God. He

says that God’s impact on this world—not how He does it, but the results of His

influence—would, if a human were to have such impact, betray certain traits of character,

particularly those listed in the 13 Attributes found in Exodus,49 and that are part of the

liturgy for Yom Kippur. Those attributes of action, defined as the character traits of a

hypothetical person performing those acts, are binding. It is in that sense that we can

meaningfully say that God is compassionate (He has created a world which, if a human

had created it, would betray its Creator’s compassion) and so on.

Accepting this claim means that Jews’ strivings towards character improvement

should pay attention to several guidelines. The Golden Mean, with appropriate

adjustments for supererogation, provides one type of ideal character to use as a model.

Beyond that, Scripture mentions actions and traits that describe God, which offer more
47
Exodus 15:2.
48
Maimonides says he found the statement in the Midrash on Parshat Kedoshim; it also
appears in Shabbat 133b.
49
34:6.
36

avenues for emulation. Finally, the world, God’s Handiwork, provides evidence of God's

"character" as well, although the interpretation of the evidence is the greatest challenge of

the three. Whatever the final result, the most important realization to be had is that there

is such an obligation, that an unavoidable element of being Jewish (male or female) is to

take one’s "natural" character and work to mold it into a more God-like one, using all

available sources to achieve that result.

8) 9--Kiddush Hashem, Sanctifying God's Name

Synopsis: The obligation to place fidelity to God above one’s own interests.

In the 5th chapter of the Laws of the Foundations of the Torah, Maimonides

assumes that the obligation to be killed rather than transgress certain prohibitions,

yehareg ve-‘al ya`avor, is an example of the more general requirement to sanctify God's

name. Starting with this detail, we can expand to a better understanding of the obligation

generally.

Three of the Torah’s prohibitions are considered so serious that a Jew must never

violate them, even under threat of death: idolatry, murder, and gilui `arayot (incestuous

sexual relationships).50 No mitigating circumstances, such as the presence or lack of an

audience, the motives of the person demanding the sin, or the social/political context

where the threat is made, alter that rule. Those factors will affect other applications of

yehareg ve-`al ya`avor, but spending a moment on these three start us on the road to

understanding the broader mitsvah as well.

It seems simple to connect the obligation to die rather than commit idolatry to an
50
Incest for these purposes is defined as sexual relationships that would be punished
either by death or by karet, meaning also that the two partners could not create a
halakhically valid marriage. For the derivation of the obligation to be killed for these
three, see bPesahim 25b. For the definition of incest, see bKiddushin 67b.
37

obligation to sanctify God’s Name, since those who worship a foreign god are obviously

rejecting the notion of a single God, Creator of Heaven and Earth. Refusing to do so,

even on pain of death, clearly demonstrates a person’s devotion to the sanctity of His

Great Name, the simple sense of the mitsvah.

Murder fits less obviously, since it is not clear how killing someone else under

threat of death profanes the name of God. The Talmud bases the requirement to be killed

rather than kill on the simple logic that no one can decide whose life is more deserving of

salvation; the threatened person has no right, therefore, to decide that it is better that the

other person die rather than him or her self. That logic only explains why it is prohibited

to kill someone else even at the cost of one’s own life, but does not show how that serves

as an example of kiddush Hashem, as Maimonides assumes.

Sefer haHinukh’s phrasing of the Talmud’s logic offers one way of combining the

two. He says that no one can know which of the two people, the potential murderer or

the victim, will perform more mitsvot in their lives after this incident. In that reading, the

Talmud's comment about not knowing whose blood is redder really means that it is

impossible to judge who will perform more mitsvot. If so, the definition of “redder”

blood is a person’s future potential as a worshipper of God, something that humans ever

know.

Assuming that who “should” live or die depends on who will serve God better in

the future, itself a debatable contention, at least explains how refraining from killing can

constitute a kiddush Hashem. The refusal to murder the named person is not a simple

ethical decision, it is a recognition that the standard of judgment of the value of human

life is beyond human beings’ capabilities. The person who gets killed for refusing to
38

murder someone else not only submits to God's command not to kill, he or she also

accepts the unbridgeable gap between a person’s judgment and God’s.

Once we see that, of course, we can make the same point without adopting the

Sefer haHinukh’s assumptions that the number of mitsvot a person will perform

determine his or her life-value. As long as we know that whatever standard God uses is

beyond human understanding—whether it is something as “parochial” as each person’s

future mitsvah potential or not—we can know how being killed rather than killing is an

act of service of God.

The Talmud expands the rule from murder to incestuous relationships based on a

verse that compares the two.51 The exact derivation is unimportant for us here, but

relating incest to murder suggests that here, too, we cannot appreciate the seriousness of

such sins. Letting oneself be killed rather than engage in incestuous intercourse would

again be bowing not only before God's command, but also before His greater wisdom.

The rule of yehareg ve-`al ya`avor applies to other sins as well, but in those cases

surrounding circumstances affect the application. Jews are required to refuse, for

example, to violate any Torah prohibition, even under threat of death, if the person

coercing the violation was focused on its being a violation of the Torah, and the incident

occurred in the presence of ten adult Jews. If a government were making a concerted

effort to stamp out Jewish observance, the rules would be even more stringent, since Jews

would be obligated to refuse orders to violate any aspect of Judaism even in private.

When the coercer cares only for his own pleasure, however, such as asking a Jew

to sew him a suit on Shabbat, the Jew would be allowed and perhaps required to do so

51
bPesahim 25b, commenting on Deuteronomy 22:26.
39

even in public.52 That last case suggests that the key issue in yehareg ve-`al ya`avor is

whether or not the Jew is being asked to choose between God and the person threatening

to kill him. Where no such choice is required—as when the person coercing the

transgression clearly cares about himself and his pleasure, not the religious ramifications

for the Jew in question—the issue of kiddush Hashem does not arise.

To extrapolate from these cases to kiddush Hashem generally, we see that

Maimonides understood it as an obligation to put God's goals in the world ahead of one’s

own, particularly when specifically confronted with a choice between the two. In that

sense, Maimonides apparently saw idol worship, murder, and incest as acts that

inherently contravene central elements of God's picture of the world, so that even private

violations count as saving one’s own life at the cost of violating God's plan.

For other mitsvot, the acts themselves are not so central to God’s rule of the world

that the Jew must forfeit his life to avoid transgressing them. When, however, those acts

are made into crucial choices -- in times when the whole religion is under attack or when

the choice is being made in public (so that other Jews will see a coreligionist choosing

life over God), the Jew needs to choose God.

This way of viewing kiddush Hashem explains an otherwise puzzling version of

the mitsvah mentioned by Sefer haHinukh. According to the Hinukh, someone who

wantonly sins in private (with no coercion and with clear recognition that it is a sin),

desecrates God’s Name; conversely, someone who refrains from sin simply because God

prohibited it, even when acting completely alone, sanctifies the Name. Lacking an

audience, we might not know why the issue of kiddush Hashem arises. Once we know

See the discussion in Maimoindes, Hilhot Yesodei haTorah 5:2 and Shulhan Arukh,
52

Yoreh De`ah, 157:1.


40

that the choice is the crucial element, we realize that submission to His judgment of right

and wrong even when alone in a room can also sanctify His Name.

The various versions of kiddush Hashem-- sins that inherently desecrate the

Name, such that they must be avoided even under penalty of death, sins where the

circumstances define a transgression as choosing life over God's sovereignty, or wanton

sins that disregard God completely-- show the God-focus of the commandment as a

whole. In a world where many willingly ignore God’s desires, kiddush Hashem tells

Jews to help God's side by taking advantage of crucial opportunities to demonstrate

fidelity to His service.

9)10—Keriat Shema, The Recitation of Shema

Synopsis: The obligation to articulate one’s belief in God morning and evening.

This mitsvah stands out from the ones we have seen before in that it is the first

from which women are exempt, and will therefore introduce us to the concept of a

mitsvat `aseh she-hazman grama, a positive time-related commandment. All rabbinic

sources agree that this mitsvah obligates men to say something morning and evening, but

there is a range of opinions as to how much reciting the Torah mandated. At the low end

of the spectrum, many authorities, including Nahmanides, Rashba, and Sefer haHinukh

thought the Torah only required saying the first verse of Shema, the declaration of God’s

Oneness and Unity. These authorities think that the other paragraphs of Shema included

in the liturgy were ordained by the rabbis. Other rabbinic opinions ranged from just the

first paragraph of Shema, the first two, and, perhaps, all three.53

Maimonides seems to take the last position, that all three sections are obligated by
53
R. Ovadyah Yosef, in his responsa Yabi`a Omer 8, Orah Hayyim 6, sections 4-6
reviews the various authorities who hold each of these views. Sefer haHinukh discusses
the mitsvah in mitsvah 420.
41

the Torah. At the beginning of his Laws of Shema, he lists the three sections to be

recited, explains the purpose of each one, and then says that reading those three

paragraphs in order is what is called the Recitation of Shema.

The disagreement about Shema extends to their disagreeing about the result

produced by the recitation. Sefer haHinukh, who focuses only on the statement of God’s

Unity, sees the mitsvah as instituting a regular reminder of God’s existence. That

reminder alone, he assumes, was sufficient to achieve the mitsvah’s purpose, keeping

people away from sin and working towards a Godly life.

Maimonides’ explanation of the role played by each of the paragraphs in Shema

assumes the insufficiency of a purely intellectual awareness of God’s existence. He

describes the first paragraph as teaching not only God’s existence and absolute unity, but

also the need to develop ahavah (love) for Him, and to study (both the text of Torah and

whatever other texts will teach about Him) in order to further one’s connection to Him.

The next two paragraphs expand the scope of obligations to include all of mitsvot, tsitsit

as a reminder of those mitsvot and (especially for the nighttime Shema, when tsitsit are

not obligatory) the memory of leaving Egypt.

These reminders go beyond His Unity to a slew of mechanisms by which Jews

can, should, and must keep that Unity uppermost in their minds and actions throughout

the day. Despite his philosophical interests, in other words, Maimonides had a keen

awareness of a web of factors that sustain a person's religious involvement.

We can show that Maimonides nonetheless agreed with Sefer haHinukh that the

mitsvah was meant to institute a regular reminder of other existing obligations by noting

an oddity of his presentation in the Sefer haMitsvot. Maimonides cites a Tosefta, a


42

second century Mishnaic source, that says that just as the Torah set fixed times for

Shema, so, too, the Rabbis set fixed times for prayer. He comments that the Tosefta

supports his view that prayer itself is a Torah obligation, although the Rabbis, Hazal, set

the number of prayers and their times.

Maimonides’ comment would fit nicely in his description of the obligation of

prayer, but is odd in the context of Shema-- why would he stop to prove something about

prayer in a description of this mitsvah? We suggest that he read the Tosefta as teaching

us about the mitsvah of Shema as well. Just as in prayer, where Hazal set fixed times and

forms of expression for a general obligation to turn to God, Shema is the Torah's setting

such times and forms of expression for more generally stated obligations, such as to

know His Unity, to love Him, to learn about Him.

Recognizing that Shema brings specificity to certain broader mitsvot offers a first

aspect of the entire category of mitsvot `aseh she-hazman grama upon which to focus in

trying to understand women's exemption. First, we should remember that women are

obligated in all the underlying mitsvot for which Shema seems to serve as a reminder.

Women are just as obligated as men to believe in the Absolute Unity of God, to come to

as great an understanding of that Unity as possible, and to develop love (not just

emotional, but the love of deep understanding) of the Creator. The exemption here is

from the requirement to, at fixed times, remind oneself of these obligations.

Similarly, Maimonides sees women as obligated only to pray at least once a day,

as per Torah law. Of course, as is true for men even as far as the Torah was concerned,

the more often and/or more eloquently one prayed, the better. Women were freed, in

other words, from following the specific times for prayer set up by the Rabbis.
43

This split suggests—for now, it is only a suggestion, but it will become clearer as we

continue our study—that the exemption from time-related mitsvot reveals the Torah’s

desire to avoid legislating specific forms of observance for women, rather than being any

less concerned with their spirituality. The “real” mitsvot here are just as obligatory for

women as for men; the difference lies in the extent to which women’s remembering to

fulfill those mitsvot are directly guided by the Torah.54 While we will expand our

understanding of the issue as we go along, it seems enough for our purposes here to have

seen that this exemption (not to judge the category as a whole yet) does not take away

from the spiritual expectations the religion has for women. It only refrains from

obligating them--they are, of course, permitted to say Shema if they wish-- in a specific

verbalization of those spiritual expectations.

10)11--Talmud Torah

Synopsis: The obligation for men to insure that knowledge of the Written Torah passes
from generation to generation.

Our presentation here will argue that what the Torah and Talmud meant by the

mitsvah of Talmud Torah, studying Torah, is broadly misunderstood in the Jewish

community today. While the mitsvah includes the obligation to study as much Torah as

one can—what people generally assume about the mitsvah-- that is not its essential

definition. The exact definition of such a central Jewish obligation will certainly

contribute to our attempt to articulate positive Judaism. In addition, though, it sheds light

on what might be the proper priorities for education Jews, adults and children, most

productively.
54
I have suggested one reason for this in my "Men And Women’s Differing Religious
Aims, As Taught By The Category Of Mitsvot `Aseh She-Hazman Grama" printed in the
online journal, Women-in-Judaism.com, available at
www.utoronto.ca/wjudaism/contemporary/contemp_index1.html.
44

This redefinition might also have a practical effect on the study of Torah among

Jews today, as it will provide a less-daunting formulation of the obligation than the usual

one, which says that a Jew must learn as much as he can. Finally, since, like keriat

Shema, women were not obligated in this mitsvah,55 knowing exactly what the Torah

chose not to require of women is crucial to understanding the Torah’s view of women’s

spiritual existence; it is especially important to dispel the falsehood that the exemption

means the Torah denigrated women’s intellectual capabilities.

Maimonides’ presentation in the Sefer haMitsvot casts the mitsvah as a

commandment to teach more than to study. His definition refers to both learning and

teaching, with the source-verse of ve-shinantam le-vanekha, you shall teach it to your

children.56

He also records Sifrei's ruling that the verse obligates men to teach any students

who wish to learn, in addition to their sons, since Scripture elsewhere refers to students as

sons.57 Third, he mentions Sifrei's alternate reading of the word ve-shinantam as

requiring a person to know the literature of Torah well enough that he can answer any

question immediately. That last comment, which reads the Biblical verse nonliterally to

make a pedagogical point, values knowledge of Torah not for its own sake, but because

of how it eases answering questions.

Finally, Maimonides mentions the Talmud’s relying on the verse’s reference to

teaching one's sons as proof that only sons are included in the commandment; again, the
55
One opinion in the Talmud saw this mitsvah, and its relationship to tefillin, as the
source of women’s exemption in mitsvot `aseh she-hazman grama generally, see the
Talmudic discussion in bKiddushin 33a-35a.
56
Deuteronomy 6; 7.
57
34:7.
45

requirement to study is inexorably connected to the requirement to teach.

Each of these aspects of the presentation-- and we will mention more in a

moment-- point to the mitsvah of Talmud Torah as concerned with guaranteeing the

transmission of knowledge from one generation of Jews to the next, not—as is usually

assumed-- with the act of study per se. While the act of study has positive value for the

person who engages in it, the mitsvah carefully focuses on teaching, as we have seen.

Some further examples: In the Mishneh Torah, Maimonides follows the Talmud

in mentioning grandfathers’ obligation to teach their grandchildren. Based on the verse

ve-hoda`tam le-vanekha ve-livnei vanekha, you shall tell them to your sons and

grandsons,58 the Talmud asserts a particular obligation for grandfathers to teach their

grandchildren.59 Maimonides rates this as a higher priority than teaching students outside

the family, but as lesser than the need to teach one's own sons.

This grandparental obligation is unique in halakhic literature, and supports the

idea that the mitsvah seeks to guarantee transmission of knowledge. Placing the

obligation of continuity on all generations of a family is a surer avenue to success than

relying on strangers or the community at large, and that may be why the Torah chose to

do so.

The Talmud sets an interesting minimum on a father's obligation to teach his son

in order to fulfill the mitsvah: the text of Torah. As long as the son can read and explain

any selection from the Five Books of the Torah, the father has fulfilled his obligation.

That makes most sense if we remind ourselves that the mitsvah meant to guarantee

transmission of basic cultural knowledge--the Torah, the source of all Jewish knowledge
58
Deuteronomy 4;9.
59
Hilkhot Talmud Torah 1:2 and bKiddushin 30a.
46

and law, was the basic text expected to be familiar for Jews from one generation to the

next.

Only that understanding of the mitsvah explains the Talmud’s derivation of the

grandparental obligation. The verse “ve-hoda`tam” refers directly only to Jews’ needing

to maintain and transmit the memory of the event of mattan Torah, the Giving of the Law

at Sinai, not the content of Torah. That the Talmud uses a verse about that requirement

to elucidate the obligation of study of Torah assumes that the two are related, as if the

obligation were actually to create and uphold a certain connection to the Word of God

both in content and in the circumstances of its giving. Teaching Torah to children and

grandchildren transmits memory of the event at which that Torah was given in addition to

the specific content being taught.

The Talmud certainly does not wish Jews to stop at the text of Torah, and it

makes sure to include stories of people who came to know the entire expanse of Jewish

literature, but it never suggests that the basic obligation involves anything other than the

text of Torah. We might say that the rest of that literature that people study-- Talmud,

commentaries, codes, etc.-- simply helps Jews to better understand the original document

of Torah, and how to apply it in practice to lives lived in this world.

The perspective of Talmud Torah presented here could also considerably alter our

understanding of women’s exemption. The act of study is not the issue, since the Torah

did not focus on the act of study for men. Nor was the Torah mandating the need to

develop enough knowledge to be able to observe the religion properly.60

Women were exempted from the obligation to be guardians of cultural

60
An obligation in which Rema, at least, included women, see Yoreh Deah 246; 6.
47

knowledge, to insure that the next generation (and the next, ad infinitum) is given some

minimal level of Torah knowledge. Certainly we can wonder why the Torah chose to

free women of that obligation (and our study of their other exemptions will offer an

answer),61 but the re-framing of the question alters our picture of that issue, and of the

kind of study the Torah meant to obligate in general.

11)12 &13—Tefillin of the Hand and Head

Synopsis: The male Jew’s obligations to wear reminders of God on his arm and head, as
ways of binding his emotions and thoughts to God’s worship.

Perhaps the most surprising aspect of the mitsvah of tefillin—the requirement that

each male Jew wear a box on his arm and head, each box containing parchment recording

the four biblical sections that mention the requirement—is that it counts as two mitsvot.

Counting tefillin as two mitsvot affects practical observance when only one of the two

boxes is available, since it means that there is full religious value in donning each one; in

contrast, in the mitsvah of tsitsit, the need for white and tekhelet, of indigo dyed strings,

affect the fulfillment of the single mitsvah.

Practical issues aside, seeing the two types of tefillin as separate obligations raises

theological issues worth considering. To come to a reasonable understanding, we need to

assemble more facts about the ritual. First, here, too, women are exempt, and the source

of that exemption tells us about the mitsvah as a whole.

Maimonides reminds readers that bKiddushin 35a exempts women based on the

verse that Jews are supposed to wear tefillin "le-ma`an tihyeh Torat Hashem be-fikha, so

that the Torah of God should be in your mouths."62 Since women are exempt from the
61
Again, see my online article, referenced above, note 54.
62
Exodus 13;9.
48

obligation of teaching Torah to their sons and grandsons, the Talmud says, an obligation

that includes discussing Torah “when you sit in your homes, when you walk on the road,

when you lie down, and when you arise,”63 they are similarly exempt from wearing an

appurtenance apparently intended to keep that Torah in their mouths. The assumption of

the Talmudic statement incidentally informs us that tefillin are in some way an adjunct to

the study of Torah.64

Other elements of the mitsvah further highlight tefillin's role in increasing the

wearer’s awareness of Torah (and, by extension, God), or making it more consistent. The

Talmud requires regularly touching/ feeling the tefillin while wearing them, to insure that

the person maintains focus.65 It is while wearing tefillin (as opposed to tsitsit, for

example) that halakhah stresses the need to avoid inappropriate thoughts and actions

(such as expelling air), so much so that people who could not avoid improper bodily

experiences—for whatever reasons, such as a stomach virus-- were required to refrain

from donning tefillin until they could regain their bodily control.66

63
Deuteronomy 6; 7.
64
The connection to Torah study perhaps also explains why so many of tefillin’s laws are
halakhot le-Moshe mi-Sinai, laws attributed to a direct tradition from Moses at Sinai. As
Maimonides notes at the beginning of Laws of Tefillin, there are ten such halakhot
regarding the preparation of tefillin, each of which are absolutely necessary for an
acceptable observance of the mitsvah. Perhaps tefillin’s declared purpose, keeping God's
Torah in our minds, is furthered by making oral tradition central to the proper observance
of the commandment; since Torah, according to Jewish tradition, encompasses much
unwritten material, the observance itself incorporates both types of material as well. The
late Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik is reported to have made a similar point in explaining
the centrality of the oral tradition to establishing the exact date of Shavuot, Pentecost, the
anniversary of the Giving of the Torah, as discussed in bMenahot 65a.
65
Shabbat 12a.
66
Orah Hayyim 37;2.
49

The common custom to wear tefillin only during morning prayers, a result of

concern about the expulsions of air mentioned a moment ago, shows that the issue of

cleanliness outweighed the religious value of constancy of presence. Since tefillin were

so focused on disciplining minds and bodies to the awareness of God, it was meaningless

to wear them when the person in question could not exercise the proper self-control. Yet

that ideal form of the mitsvah again shows that it was meant as a constant presence in a

Jewish life, not an adjunct to prayer.

Only when we think of tefillin as a constant presence, as the Torah was assuming

they would be, can we offer a sensible view of the role they were meant to play in the

Torah system. Imagine if, among the mosaic of ethnic practices in the city of New York,

there would be Jews regularly wearing tefillin—during business deals, at restaurants, or

simply when out on the town (all of which, by the way, are perfectly permissible in the

Torah’s view). That picture justifies the Torah’s claim that this mitsvah would keep

words of Torah (and, by extension, thoughts of God) in our mouths; it is much harder to

imagine Jews ignoring their status as Jews while wearing their tefillin than nowadays,

when the tefillin have been safely left at home after morning prayers.

Tefillin as a constant presence on Jews’ heads67 also helps explain the connection

the Talmud draws between tefillin and another verse. In its original context, the verse

“ve-ra’u kol `amei ha’aretz ki shem Hashem nikra `alekhah, all the nations of the world

will see that God’s Name is upon you,”68 means that when Jews keep the mitsvot and
67
Remembering that Jews were originally supposed to wear tefillin all the time also
clarifies the Talmudic assertion, Menahot 37b, that the tefillin of the arm are a private
sign between the person and God, while those on the head are a public one. When tefillin
is limited to synagogue, the distinction seems useless, but in the Torah’s ideal of a life
lived while wearing tefillin we understand the distinction easily.
68
Devarim 28;10.
50

receive the promised reward, other nations will note their good fortune and know that

God is with them. The Talmud instead reads the verse as referring to tefillin; in seeing a

Jew wearing tefillin, non-Jews will know that the Jew in question, and the nation in

general, bear God’s Name.69 That again only makes sense if wearing tefillin was part of

how non-Jews saw Jews on a regular basis.

Although we do not intend to focus on it here, this view of tefillin also suggests a

reason for women’s exemption similar to others we have suggested before. Just as the

Torah refrained from demanding a specific expression of a broader requirement in the

case of Shema, here, too, the Torah exempts women from the obligation to place a

physical reminder of God on their persons; women are no less obligated than men to

think of God (although perhaps less obligated to think of Torah), but the Torah did not

choose to specifically delineate how they should accomplish that requirement.

Knowing that the tefillin were to serve as reminders of God and Torah,70 we can

note tradition’s view of how the two boxes serve different reminder functions, also

explaining why they are separate commandments.71 The tefillin on the hand (near the

heart) were seen as helping the Jew bind his emotions to God, while those on the head

channeled his thoughts towards God. By separating the two, the Torah apparently

informs us that the two areas of human action—thoughts and emotions-- differ so greatly

The connection appears in several texts, among them Berakhot 6a and 57a, as well as
69

Sotah 17a.

Some Talmudic statements expand that to seeing tefillin as protection against sin, as we
70

mention in the next section, on the mitsvot of tsitsit and mezuzah.


71
See Nahmanides’ commentary to Exodus, 13;16 and Kol Bo, par. 21.
51

that the mechanism for bringing each into relationship with God is completely separate

from the other.

Our brief examination of tefillin shows that the boxes are less a rote act than an

attempt to produce specific responses, both in the people wearing them and those who

meet those people. As we hope is true often in this book, it reminds us that the

observances ordained in the Bible aim to produce a change in the people observing that

system; without that change, the obligation is only imperfectly fulfilled.

12) 14 &15 --Tsitsit and Mezuzah

Synopsis: The separate obligations for men to tie reminder-strings on any four-cornered
garments they wear during the day, and for all Jews to place reminder-boxes on their
doors and gateways.

The conceptual issues posed by these two mitsvot are fairly similar to each other

as well as to tefillin, so we can discuss them together. The mitsvah of tsitsit is to tie eight

strings on the corners of any four cornered garment a male Jew wears. To perform the

mitsvah fully, most of those strings should be white, with one or two of them being

tekhelet; tekhelet is a dye, probably of an indigo color, made from a fish called hilazon in

the Talmud. The Talmud describes tekhelet as matching the color of the sea and the sky.72

For hundreds of years, the identity of the hilazon has been unknown, but the last century

and a half has seen at least three attempts at re-identifying it. Currently, P’til Techelet, an

institute in Israel, is popularizing the theory that murex trunculus is the true tekhelet, and

sells blue strings dyed from the murex extract.73


72
Menahot 43b—44a.

For further discussion of the tekhelet debate, see The Journal of Halacha and
73

Contemporary Society, vols. XLII and XLIII, with articles by Mendel Singer,
“Understanding the Criteria for Chilazon,” response by Baruch Sterman, “The Source of
Techelet,” and a letter supporting Dr. Singer’s position by R. Yehchiel Yitzchok Perr.
The homepage of P’til Techelet, the organization dedicated to manufacturing and
52

The two parts of tsitsit, in contrast to tefillin, are not separate mitsvot. That means

that a person who does not have tekhelet can nonetheless fulfill the mitzvah with only

white strings, although it is obviously not as complete an observance as if the garment

had both white and tekhelet strings. That technical halakhic fact means that wearing a

garment with strings on its four corners is religiously meaningful to some extent whether

those strings are all white, all tekhelet, or a mix of the two (as opposed to, for example,

wearing strings on a three-cornered garment, which does not fulfill any religious

command or goal whatsoever). Any suggestion as to tsitsit’s purpose must therefore take

account of its flexibility of fulfillment.

We will be better able to develop a theory of the mitsvah, however, if we first turn

to the other mitsvah in this section, mezuzah, the obligation to place a box on the doorpost

of each doorway in a Jewish home and on the gates of any cities that are Jewishly owned

or controlled. That box (or case) must contain a piece of parchment on which a scribe

has written the two sections of the Torah that mention the mitzvah. Those sections are

also two of the four placed in the boxes of the tefillin, since mezuzah is mentioned in the

same section of the Torah as tefillin and Torah study; mezuzah, tefillin, and the Torah

scroll are the three common ritual objects in Judaism that require a particular kind of

writing and parchment. Any explanation of mezuzah should take account of its similarity

to those mitsvot, presumably in terms of its role in keeping a Jew focused on some kind

of involvement with God’s Torah and/or mitsvot.

As we mentioned briefly in our discussion of tefillin, the Talmud says that anyone

who fulfills the mitsvot of tefillin, mezuzah, and tsitsit will not soon sin,74 a statement that

popularizing the use of murex trunculus as tekhelet is www.techelet.com.


74
Menahot 43b.
53

stresses their protective function. Having looked at some details of these observances, it

seems clear that that accurately sums up their basic purpose as well, although each in its

own way. Tefillin are placed on the arm and head since they are meant to affect hearts

and minds, leading to the Torah of God being in the Jew’s mouth.

The Torah itself discusses tsitsit’s role in reminding Jews of God, in the verse, “u-

r’item oto u-zekhartem et kol mitsvot Hashem, and you will see them and remember all

the commandments of God…”75 Combining the verse’s stress on seeing the tsitsit with

tsitsit’s being tied on to clothing-- a basic element of a person’s outward presentation—

offers the possibility that tsitsit are meant to remind its wearers of God and their

responsibilities towards Him in all of their outward interactions. If so, we would read

mezuzah, which again combines protection with memory of the Torah, as insuring that

Jews’ passages in life—doorways-- will be ones filled with God and His Torah.

Seeing each of these mitsvot as reminder mechanisms dealing with different

aspects of human experience offers insight both into the question we raised before, why

the two types of tsitsit are considered one mitzvah, when the two types of tefillin were

separate mitsvot, as well as into the question of women’s exemption.

The two tefillin boxes addressed different parts of the self, the intellect and the

emotions. The different elements of the mitsvah of tsitsit, in contrast, have the same

basic purpose, serving as a reminder of God on a Jew’s clothing. The different colors

presumably serve different purposes within that goal, but they are apparently nonetheless

a unified obligation.

75
Numbers 15;39.
54

For an example of how to construe their different roles, the late Rabbi

Soloveitchik once suggested that white was the color of clarity, symbolizing life

situations that were simple and clear. Tekhelet is a color lacking in clarity—the Talmud

describes it as similar to the sea, which was similar to the sky, which was similar to the

Throne of Glory. All those comparisons, Rabbi Soloveitchik suggested, are purposely

inexact, because tekhelet symbolizes complex questions, ones without a single or obvious

answer or method of dealing with them. While the two types of strings play different

roles in that scheme, they are nonetheless both performing the same basic function, which

would explain why they are one mitsvah.

Mezuzah, following that logic, reminds a Jew of God in the home, during personal

and family interactions. As Jews pass through doorways, moving from one space to

another, the mezuzah beckons them to bring God into that passage as well. Perhaps a

story about a novice in a Buddhist temple will make that point clearer. A young man had

just spent his first year in the temple and was home on a visit when he met Thomas

Merton, the famous monk.

Merton asked him what he had learned in his first year in the temple, expecting to

hear grand tales of visions and enlightenment. The young man replied that he had

learned “about opening and closing doors,” by which he meant that he had spent the year

attempting to cultivate careful attention to his actions, as he walked through doorways.76

The mitsvah of mezuzah, obviously in a different theological context, urges Jews to be

mindful as they pass through doorways as well.

Moving on to the issue of women’s exemption, we note that women are exempt

from three of the four mitsvot of reminder, the three that are found directly on one’s
76
I read the story in The Spirituality of Imperfection, .
55

person or garments; the one they must join in is one that is placed on a doorway, a much

less intrusive form of required memory of God. As we might say in the Talmud, mi-mah

nafshakh, either women are obligated to surround themselves with reminders of God, in

which case they should be included in all four mitsvot, or they are not so obligated, in

which case they should not have to put up mezuzot either.

The Talmud registered technical reasons for these exemptions, although they are

not obviously helpful on a conceptual plane. The technical explanation for women not

being obligated to wear tefillin is that they do not have to learn Torah; they do not have to

learn Torah, as we have seen, because they were not made part of the chain of

transmission that the Torah wished to insure. We had no explanation, however, as to why

they were not made part of that chain. The Talmud then found textual support for the

claim that women’s exemption from tefillin serves as a paradigm for their exemption

from all positive time-related commandments.77 Again, the Talmud does not offer any

explicit conceptual explanation of the category.

Seeing the different treatment of largely similar mitsvot here offers the possibility

that the extent to which a mitsvah intrudes on one’s choices about oneself affects whether

the Torah decided to require that act of women. Responsibility for the chain of

transmission of Torah deeply affects a person’s self-image, especially if that

responsibility brings with it the obligation to wear tefillin throughout the day. So, too,

having string-fringes on the ends of one’s clothing deeply affects how others experience

that person.78 Having a box on the doorposts of a home only affects those who notice it,
77
Kiddushin 34aff.
78
We would even speculate that it is for that reason that the Torah limited the observance
to certain times. In the case of tefillin, when other symbols of the same covenant were
more broadly available, such as Shabbat, the Torah freed the person from the need to
56

and in a way that is less tied to the particular homeowner than those other mitsvot.

We would tentatively suggest, then, that the Torah exempted women from those

obligations that affected their personal religious identity in the most rigid and intrusive

ways. Women may decide to perform these mitsvot, but are freed of the absolute

obligation to do so. Men, on the other hand, were required to have these various

reminders surrounding them at all the times ordained by the Torah. This theory, of

course, relies on the general framework we have offered for the past four mitsvot-- the

two of tefillin, tsitsit, and mezuzah—that the Torah was installing reminders in Jews’

persons, clothing, and doorways to help maintain mindfulness of God at all times and

situations in a Jewish life.

13)18—Writing a Sefer Torah

Synopsis: The obligation to acquire, preferably by writing but acceptably by purchasing,


books that foster personal study of Torah.

Understanding this mitsvah fully includes not only understanding the Torah’s

original command—to write a Torah scroll—but also the other options for that

observance and the discussion surrounding those other options. From there, we will see

how the mitsvah is not so much about the writing as about having access to items for

study of Torah.

The Torah asserts this obligation by requiring Jews to write hashirah hazot,79 this

song, a phrase that meant only the song recorded in the next chapter of the Bible. The

wear such an identifying mark. In the case of tsitsit, the goal of the mitsvah was the
seeing, perhaps again because it was a question of how one saw oneself during
interactions with others. Where seeing was not an issue, the mitsvah was not put in place.
79
Deuteronomy 31; 19.
57

mitzvah, however, requires writing the entire Torah.80 The Talmud also makes clear that

each generation must write new Torah scrolls, so that one may not rely on scrolls

inherited from one’s ancestors.

A significant body of opinion does allow buying a scroll, although that is a less-

preferred fulfillment of the mitsvah.81 Correcting an invalid scroll, thus returning it to

usability, qualifies as writing it, since the person who corrects it has made it into a scroll

that can be used. Later rabbis pondered the distinction between purchasing and inheriting

a Torah, since in both cases the person did not write it. Minhat Hinukh suggested that

buying a Torah at least involves effort and monetary cost, whereas inheritance requires

no action at all.82

In the early fourteenth century, R. Asher, known as Rosh, raised an issue more

central for current observance of the mitsvah.83 He pointed out that in the time of the

Talmud, people not only read from a scroll in public, they used it for their private study

of Torah. It was in such a context, he claimed, that the Torah commanded writing a

scroll; the intent of the mitsvah, however, was that the tools of Torah study would be

readily available in each Jew’s life.

Nowadays, Rosh said (a view that became all the more true with the advent of

printing), when people no longer study from those scrolls, writing or purchasing the

books one would use in study--including Bibles, volumes of Mishnah or Talmud, and
80
See Sanhedrin 21b, with Shulhan `Arukh Yoreh De`ah 270:1.
81
Rashi already proposes this view, as do many authorities up to and including the Vilna
Gaon; surprisingly, Rema, Yoreh Deah 270, rejects this possibility.
82
This leads to other interesting questions, such as whether receiving a sefer as a gift
would qualify or not, but we will leave those for another forum.
83
Quoted in Tur Yoreh De`ah 270.
58

commentaries—should also fulfill the mitzvah. Rosh seems to be saying that the mitsvah

was always an adjunct of the mitsvah to study Torah; as people’s practices around Torah

study changed, the ways to fulfill the mitsvah expanded to incorporate the texts they used

in that study.

Maimonides excludes women from the obligation,84 a view that makes most sense

if he, too, adopted Rosh’s assumption that this mitzvah serves as an avenue to easing

study. That does not necessarily mean that he would have adopted Rosh’s expansion of

the mitzvah to other books, but his distinguishing women from men, which he does not

explain or justify, seems to agree with Rosh's assumption about the underlying motives of

the commandment.

Although several authorities read Rosh as we summarized him so far,85 that

writing other books of learning could substitute for the obligation to write a Torah scroll,

others could not accept that Rosh would see a Torah commandment as changing over

time. Instead, Beit Yosef suggests that Rosh only meant that with the change in study

habits there was also value in writing those books, but that he would have still required

each male Jew to write a scroll.

Sha'agat Aryeh, the eighteenth century R. Aryeh Leib Heller, rejects Rosh’s

central assumption, the connection between Torah study and the requirement to write a

scroll.86 He is so confident of that disconnect that he assumes women are also obligated,
84
In his list of the mitsvot that apply in all times and places at the end of the positive
commandments section of the Sefer haMitsvot. In the delineation of the mitzvah itself, he
does not mention that distinction, but in the Mishneh Torah, both in the koteret, the
heading, to the Laws of Sefer Torah and in 7;1, he refers conspicuously to men as the
ones obligated.
85
Most notably R. Joshua Falk in his commentary Perishah on Tur Yoreh De`ah 270.
86
No. 35.
59

contra Maimonides, and that Rosh could not have meant that other writings could fulfill a

Torah commandment to write a scroll.

Instead, he suggests that all those authorities were discussing a Rabbinic

obligation established in the post-Mishnaic period. Based on the Talmud’s candid

admission of the loss of the full tradition of the proper spelling for certain words in the

Torah,87 Sha'agat Aryeh notes that it was impossible to fulfill the original Torah

commandment, which necessarily involves producing a copy of the Torah scroll exactly

as Moses wrote it. Once the original observance was lost, the Rabbis instituted their own

version of the commandment, only this one focused on Torah more broadly, not on the

written scroll exclusively. It was this Rabbinic version that Maimonides and Rosh were

discussing, with all of the differences from the original commandment that we have

discussed.

The eighteenth and nineteenth century R. Moses Schreiber, known as Hatam

Sofer, similarly rejected the connection to study.88 He noted a recurring debate in the

Talmud89 as to whether darshinan ta`ama de-kra, whether the halakhic system allows

shaping the fulfillment of mitsvot according to later readers’ independent understanding

of the Torah's goal in commanding them. Since the Talmud clearly rejects the view that

allows doing so, Hatam Sofer writes that Rosh must only have been making his

comments in order to explain how that point of view would currently understand the

mitsvah. Current practice, which rejects analyzing mitsvot that way in legal contexts,
87
Haserot and Yeterot, words that are written with or without a vav or a yud on certain
occasions. See, for example, the statement of Rabbah b. Bar Hanah, Kiddushin 30a.
88
254, late 18th and early 19th centuries.
89
Centrally in bBaba Metsia 115a.
60

could not do so.

Hatam Sofer's point, while well taken, contradicts the simplest reading of Rosh,

especially since other authorities all agreed that Rosh was codifying his view of practical

Jewish law. Too, raising darshinan ta`ama de-kra here seems to be an error, since the

Torah itself gives the reason that Rosh used to shape his view of the mitzvah. The

Talmudic discussion that Hatam Sofer referenced singles that out as one situation where

it was acceptable to use the underlying reason in deciding how best to perform a mitzvah.

The Torah says to write the shira, teach it to the Jewish people, and place it in

their mouths, clearly indicating that the writing is a part of the teaching and the placing in

their mouths. Rosh's connecting the mitsvah of writing to the rest of the verse should

therefore not raise any problems of darshinan ta`ama de-kra.

This leaves us with a majority view that this mitsvah is connected to that of Torah

study, as evidenced by Maimonides’ assumption that women are exempt and by Rosh’s

view that the mitsvah changed as the methods of Torah study changed. Instead of adding

one more technical requirement to the Torah’s list, our analysis has shown how this

mitsvah connects to the others we have seen in this section, all of which set up ways of

keeping God and God’s Torah in a Jews’ minds and hearts as much as possible.

14)19—Birkat haMazon, Grace After Meals

Synopsis: To recite a blessing after eating a full meal, mentioning God’s goodness in
giving food, the gift of the Land of Israel, the covenant of circumcision, Torah, and hopes
for the rebuilding of the Temple and restoration of Davidic kingship.

While various blessings constitute a central part of modern Jews’ everyday

religious experience, the Torah itself legislated few of them. In Maimonides’ view, in

fact, the Torah only ordained the requirement to thank God after eating food. To prove
61

that the Torah did require this act, Maimonides cites the Tosefta’s reading of the verse

“ve-akhalta ve-sava`ta u-verakhta et Hashem Elokekha `al ha’aretz hatovah asher natan

lakh, and you will eat and be satiated and bless the Lord Your God for the good land that

He gave you.”90

In contrast to Maimonides, the Talmud seems to assume that the Torah also

ordered Jews to recite a blessing before studying Torah. In fact, Nahmanides lists that

blessing as a mitsvah that Maimonides neglected to include in his Sefer haMitsvot;

Megillat Ester, a book that usually defends Maimonides’ position, in this case agrees

with Nahmanides.

Maimonides may have decided that that Talmudic discussion was not

authoritative because its last few lines (which attempt to logically extend the Biblical

obligation to include blessings after the study of Torah and before eating) are clearly not

accepted. The obligation of birkat haMazon, with prooftext, is recorded again later in the

tractate;91 there, the Talmud does not mention the blessings for the study of Torah. We

suspect Maimonides therefore concluded that the earlier section does not make a

halakhically accepted statement, leaving Grace After Meals as the only Biblical

obligation.

However he came to his position, his view sets up Grace After Meals as the

paradigm for all blessings. Indeed, in the first chapter of the Laws of Blessings, he

extrapolates blessings on food from birkat haMazon, and then broadens the category of

blessings to include birkhot haMitsvah, blessings recited before a mitzvah, and birkhot

shevah ve-hoda’ah, praise and thanks to God. All of those, in Maimonides’ presentation,
90
Deuteronomy 8;10.
91
48b.
62

extend from birkat haMazon; it was the Torah’s requiring Jews to bless God for the food

and the Land He gave them that taught the Rabbis the religious value of such blessings.

In this view, all examples of thanking God with a blessing differ only little from the

experience of thanking Him for food. Given a commandment to do the latter, it was

logically reasonable for the Rabbis to institute examples of the former.

Nahmanides’ assumption that the Torah in fact instituted a mitsvah to recite a

blessing before studying Torah means that the Torah provided two models of blessings

for the Rabbis to expand. Instead of all blessings coming from Birkat haMazon, some

may have been an expansion of the religious experience codified in the obligation to

recite a blessing before Torah study. A technical disagreement about whether the Torah

ordained a particular blessing, then, affects how we understand the process the Rabbis

went through in deciding what other blessings to require of Jews.

The evolution of birkat haMazon over time merits attention as well. While the

Talmud assumes that the first three blessings of the Grace After Meals were ordained by

the Torah,92 it also recognizes that their exact form only became fixed at a later date,

when historical events allowed for the fullest expression of the relevant themes. 93 Thus,

Moses wrote the first blessing when the manna came down from Heaven, Joshua wrote

the second upon entering the Land of Israel, David the part of the third that refers to

Jerusalem and Solomon the part of that blessing that mentions the Temple.

The details matter less for our purposes than the tacit belief that the Torah might

ordain the uttering of blessings without codifying what needs to be mentioned in them.

See, for example, Berakhot 45b, on answering amen after the third blessing, with
92

Shulhan Arukh Orah Hayyim, 188;1 and 215;1.


93
Berakhot 48b.
63

As history unfolded, those involved in the religion saw that these themes were the ones

the Torah had intended to include in the obligatory Grace After Meals.

There are other examples of such evolving obligations; noting them as they arise

serves as a salutary reminder that the Torah did not mean to be a complete system, but

left much open to later human input. That in turn alerts Jews in each generation to stay

alert for opportunities to flesh out the Torah’s sometimes skeletal information about a

desired religious experience.

When we turn to women, we come across an oddity in Maimonides’ presentation.

The Talmud expresses an unresolved doubt as to the source of women’s obligation, the

Torah or the Rabbis.94 Despite Maimonides’ general care about noting when women are

exempt from a particular mitsvah, he does not mention an exemption here, in either the

Sefer haMitsvot or the list that has been guiding our discussion of Universal Positive

Judaism. He only incorporates the Talmud’s doubt when he explains that women cannot

help men fulfill their obligation, since the rule is that only a person with a similar level of

obligation can help someone else by performing the act for them, with their permission.95

The discrepancy between the Talmud’s presentation and Maimonides’ raises two

questions. First, why is the Talmud unsure of women’s status? Second, why does

Maimonides neglect to mention the doubts about women’s obligation in his Sefer

haMitsvot presentation? For the first question, many authorities accepted the suggestion

of R Shlomo Yitshaki, Rashi (1040-1105), that women were not included in the

94
20a.
95
Hilkhot Berakhot 5:1. Maimonides offers a reason why women would be included,
since this is not a time-related mitsvah, but not for why they would be exempted.
64

obligation because they were not given an independent share in the Land of Israel.96 That

means that the Talmud was questioning whether the Torah’s reference to blessing God

“for the good Land that He has given you,”97 was a necessary component of the Grace

After Meals.

If it was, it means that the Torah was commanding Jews to experience every meal

in the context of the Land of Israel, whether that meal came on the Land or not. That

would translate into meaning that women were not so much exempt as irrelevant to this

obligation; it was not an obligation to thank God for the experience of being satiated with

food, but to reflect on that eating in the context of the Land, a context women did not

need to share in the same way. That pushes the question of women’s exemption off for a

larger one, how their attitude to the Land can or should differ from men’s, but it

illuminates our study of this mitsvah as much as it is going to.

Maimonides’ limited mentions of women’s doubtful status and his presentation in

the Sefer haMiitsvot suggest that he had not formulated a reason for women’s exemption

and therefore read the Talmud’s discussion as only relating to the question of women

fulfilling men’s obligation. Faced with a Talmudic piece he could not explain but could

also not deny, Maimonides codified it (since unequivocal Talmudic statements are

normative), but did not interweave its implications into other areas of his thought.

96
Rashi, Berakhot 20a, s.v. O de-Rabanan. Although Tosafot ad loc. disagrees,
Nahmanides on bBaba Bathra 81a, s.v. ve-Yesh she-Sho’alin assumes Rashi’s reason and
offers a solution for Tosafot’s problem. See also Rosh, Berakhot 3;12, who casually
assumes Rashi’s reason.

97
Deuteronomy 8:10.
65

Sefer haHinukh records many more of this mitsvah’s halakhot than is his usual

custom, perhaps because he saw it as more central to religious experience than others.

For Maimonides, this mitsvah sets the stage for all blessings, which also gives it great

importance, as the central example of thanking and praising God for that which is good in

one’s life.

Focus on God: Some Concluding Comments

As we close the first part of this study, we should note that we have not only

already examined more than a quarter of the obligations in Maimonides’ list, we have

laid the foundation for the rest of our analysis. Maimonides discussed fifteen of them in

either Sefer ha-Madda or Ahavah, the Books of Knowledge and Love, which focus most

directly on the Jew’s relationship with God.

The one mitsvah in the list that does not appear in those sections of Maimonides’

Code was the obligation to take oaths in God’s Name. That, however, reflects the odd

nature of the obligation, which adds a theological element—God’s Name—to an ordinary

part of human society, oath taking.

That more than a quarter of the positive obligations that apply in all times and

places focus on God reminds us of the centrality of that aspect of being a Jew. It might

be easy to assume that there are marker mitsvot of Judaism, such as Shabbat and kosher

(or certain moral obligations). Without taking away from the importance of those or any

other Torah obligations, this group reminds us of the centrality of a different element of

Jewish religiosity.

Much of that can only be amorphously defined. It is impossible to specifically

define how to believe in God’s existence or unity, or what it means to fear Him, although
66

it remains an obligation nonetheless. Even prayer, (and, remember, most authorities

denied that daily prayer was Biblically obligated) was only an example of how to

worship, and was a relatively loose obligation—to ask God for something at some point

in a day. Getting to know God, to make belief in God, fear of Him, and so on, are vital

elements of being Jewishly observant, but are inherently loosely defined. At least, that is

true of the first nine mitsvot in the list.

The next six, five of which are not obligatory upon women, define the

relationship with God significantly more rigorously. A Jew must recite his essential

belief in God, reward and punishment, mitsvot (both generally and marker mitsvot, such

as tefillin, mezuzah, and tsitsit), and the Exodus, twice a day. A Jew must study and teach

Torah (including owning the means for Torah study, such as by writing a sefer Torah), to

enough of an extent so as not to lose any of it in the transmission from one generation to

the next. A Jew must wear reminders of Torah on his person as well as seeing them on

his doorposts.

None of these six mitsvot adds content to the messages made obligatory by the

first nine; they only add ways of insuring that those first ones are fully inculcated. So,

too, the mitsvah of mezuzah simply orders Jews to place a reminder of these messages at

their doors and gates, a reminder that intrudes on one’s person much less significantly

than those others. In thinking about the exemption of women, we note that women are

equally obligated in the content of the Jewish religious experience, and in certain ways of

insuring that that content is part of their lives (swearing in God’s Name, becoming close

to Torah scholars so as to learn from their actions and character, and mezuzah, for

example).
67

The ones from which they are exempt seem to be the ones that most directly

affect their personhood. In those rigidly defined forms of religious expression, although

not in the message that underlies them, the Torah seems to have assumed that it was

either unproductive or counterproductive to obligate women; it instead left the decision

about whether to participate up to them.

The next section, that on the holidays, will include more such examples,

supporting our suggestion of the nature of men’s Judaism—a religion of content with

directly legislated ways to inculcate that content in one’s person—and women’s, where

the ways of inculcation are left open for women to figure out for themselves.
68

PART II-- THE HOLIDAYS

Seventeen mitsvot deal specifically with holy days, making up the largest

subsection of Maimonides’ list of universally applicable positive commandments. The

seventeen appear consecutively in Maimonides’ larger list,98 meaning—since he

organized that list thematically-- that he saw them as closely related. Despite the loss of

the Temple and Jewish sovereignty in the Land of Israel, the obligations to observe these

special days show that watching the calendar is an essential element of the positive

religious life of the Jew at all times and places.

As before, reviewing each of the mitsvot in question must precede any ideas about

the religious role these mitsvot fill. We can cheat a little, though, by noting that we will

find two kinds of mitsvot in this section, those that order Jews to desist from creative

labor on certain days and those that define special obligations for those days. The

commandments in the first group apply to the entirety of the day of Shabbat, of Yom

Kippur, two days of Passover (Passover), one day of Pentecost (Shavuot), two days of

Tabernacles (Sukkot), and one day of Rosh haShanah.

The mitsvot hayom, commandments of the day, are often not obligations of the

day as a whole, but just particular acts that need to be performed once or a few times a

day. They include the obligation to verbally note the advent and completion of

Shabbat(kiddush and havdallah), the obligation to remove leavened bread from the home

before and on Passover, to eat matsah on the first night of that holiday, to tell the story of

the Exodus on that night, to Count the Omer leading up to Shavuot, to live in the sukkah

98
Nos. 154-170 in the list.
69

all of Sukkot and to take the Four Species on the first day of that holiday, to blow shofar

on Rosh haShanah, and to fast on Yom Kippur.

At first glance, the order to desist from creative labor is not dependent on the

specific observances of the day, since the obligation is to desist from such labor

throughout the day, not just until or during the particular observance involved. Had the

Torah commanded that a Jew rest until having blown the shofar on Rosh haShanah, for

example, the rest would clearly serve a protective function for the blowing of shofar,

insuring that other involvements would not interfere with proper observance of that

commandment. To use a parallel example outside the realm of religion, people who

attend a party, fireworks, or other celebration for several hours on July 4 th can be said to

have fulfilled the point of the day, regardless of what else they did in that 24 hours.99

The commandments to rest for the entirety of certain days cannot therefore be

seen as purely facilitative, easing the performance of the ritual observances of each

holiday. At the same time, we will here be assuming that those more limited

commandments do valuably inform us about the character of the rest expected on each of

those days. While the various commandments of rest are indistinguishable from each

other, the experience of that rest differs greatly. The rest from ordinary occupations on a

holiday dominated by the blowing of the shofar cannot but diverge from the rest of a day

dominated by the eating of the matsah.

Evidence that the rest for each holiday bears a distinct character of its own comes

from Maimonides’ having ordained each such commandment of rest as a separate


99
That, in fact, accurately describes the Rabbinic holiday of Hanukkah, where the Rabbis legislated only
the mitsvah and certain festive prayers, but did not enact any all-day observances. While once the time for
the mitsvah arrives a person may not become involved in other activities, someone who faithfully lights
Hanukkah candles and says the extra prayers of Hallel and Al Hanisim where appropriate has, by and large,
properly observed the holiday.
70

mitsvah. Especially when we notice that Maimonides counts the obligation to rest on the

seventh day of Passover, which we generally think of as the conclusion to the holiday that

began on the first day, separately from the obligation to rest on the first day, we realize

that the seventh day was not supposed to simply repeat the first. The Torah could

theoretically have outlined the notion of a holiday, and then listed qualifying dates. By

separately obligating cessation of creativity on each day, the Torah seems to be giving

each day an importance of its own.

The traditional liturgy offers a complementary avenue to fleshing out the content

of the rest God wanted on each of these special days. In naming the holidays, both in the

standing prayer and in Grace After Meals, tradition added a description of the day.

Passover, for example, is called zeman herutenu, the time of our freedom, Shavuot

(Pentecost) is referred to as zeman matan toratenu, the time of the giving of the Torah,

and Sukkot (Tabernacles) is zeman simhatenu, the time of our happiness. If those

descriptions are accurate, presumably the cessation from creative work should reflect

each of those characterizations as well.

Distinguishing the holidays from each other in their basic purpose, with both the

rest of these days and their mitsvot hayom contributing to that purpose, explains why the

Bible instituted so many such days. Since much of the Torah is focused on shaping Jews’

lives into more Godly frames of reference, the Torah required the Jew to periodically step

away from routine, to intensely focus on his/her relationship with the Creator. That

intense focus, with slightly different emphases depending on the time of year, allows a

better-shaped approach to God and life in the rest of the year. In this section, then, we

will be studying the concept of rest, and the separate mitsvot commanded on each
71

holiday, to enrich our understanding of what the Torah meant in each of the holidays it

commanded, what would qualify as a proper fulfillment of the holiday the Torah sought

Jews to observe.

Turning to women, seeing the commanded observances of the day as simply

revealing the character of the day as a whole to some extent mitigates the rejection

implied by exempting them from many of the mitsvot hayom. At first glance, the Torah’s

indifference to women’s observing central acts of the holidays smacks of indifference to

their religious growth generally. Realizing that those mitsvot serve only to concretize the

broader message of the day leaves open the possibility that the Torah allowed women the

freedom to find other acts or activities that expressed those same ideals. As obligated as

men in experiencing these days, the exemption from the mitsvot hayom means only that

they could choose whether those rituals served them best in fostering the kind of rest and

experience of God that were the fundamental goal of the day.100

These preliminary comments properly prepare us for a more detailed discussion

of these mitsvot, which will deepen the general characterizations already offered. While

we will largely go in order, we will also group together those commandments that are

similar enough as to be handled in a single discussion. As before, we will list the

commandments both by the number of this study as well as the number that Maimonides

assigned it in the Book of the Commandments.

15) 154 & 155--To Desist from Melakhah (Creative Labor) on Shabbat and to
Verbally Declare Shabbat
Synopsis: The obligation is to create a day—at least by ushering it in verbally-- in
which one contemplates the week’s activities of creation, searching for ways to create in
a more Godly fashion in times to come.

100
Men, commanded to perform these acts, did not have the religious leeway to decide whether these were
the most personally productive ways to that religious goal.
72

The first of these two mitsvot commands Jews to positively desist from those

activities prohibited as melakhah, creative labor, on Shabbat; at the simplest level, this

adds a positive commandment to the existing prohibition of creative labor. Indeed, Sefer

haHinukh comments on this mitsvah only that he has already discussed it in the earlier

prohibition.101 This view of the `aseh, the positive commandment, would also explain

why the Talmud assumes that women are obligated (despite its being time-related);102

since the prohibition and the positive commandment are basically the same, those

obligated in one are necessarily obligated in the other.

Despite his including women in the commandment, which somewhat equates the

positive and the negative, Maimonides saw the positive obligation of rest as having some

separate religious content as well. He opens the 21st chapter of the Laws of Shabbat by

mentioning that the Torah’s use of the word tishbot103 means to require rest even from

activities that are not specifically defined as melakhah, as creative labor. He then spends

the next several chapters listing shvutin, rabbinically prohibited actions, many of which

are included because they are similar to Biblically proscribed ones. 104 In Maimonides’

reading, tishbot taught the Rabbis that the Torah wanted Jews to avoid activities that

smack of creative labor, not just the ones that technically qualify as such.

101
See Mitsvot 85 and 32.
102
See bBerakhot 20b and Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim, 271;2.
103
Exodus 23;12.
104
This is a separate category from those actions prohibited because they might lead to Biblically prohibited
ones. In the former category, for example, Maimonides, Laws of Shabbat 22;23, follows the Talmud in
saying that the Rabbis prohibited coloring one’s face on Shabbat because it was similar to painting or
dyeing—that is not because they worried that a woman who wore makeup would then go out and dye and
animal hide.
73

Maimonides' introductory comment to the chapter informs readers that these

Rabbinic requirements actually have their roots in a very general Biblical statement. It

also tells us that the Torah's list of 39 prohibited labors meant to establish broad

categories from which to desist on Shabbat; while only those particular labors incur

capital liability if violated, the Torah’s intent was that Jews would refrain from all such

activities. The Rabbis, then, were simply defining the Torah’s wishes more explicitly.

Nahmanides, who does not accept Maimonides’ general claim that a positive

commandment should be counted separately from a similar prohibition (which we have

interpreted to mean that he also does not always see the positive commandment as

defining a different religious experience from the prohibition),105 here agrees. He notes

that the Torah's prohibition did not guard against a Jew spending the day of Shabbat (or a

holiday, for that matter) in heavy labor-- moving furniture back and forth, for example.

To avoid that possibility, the Bible also commanded that Jews make these days in to days

of shabbaton, which he defines as obligating rest in the simple sense of the term, in

addition to the avoiding of creative labor made incumbent by the prohibitions of those

days.106

Knowing that the Torah’s call for rest means more than the 39 prohibited labors

and, according to Nahmanides, means rest from all physical exertion does not yet tell us

what a Jew should do on such a day. Two further pieces of information about the

prohibited labors of Shabbat offer an answer, that refraining from these activities should

be an active rather than passive abstention. The positive commandment, we mean to

105
See his gloss to the sixth of Maimonides’ introductory principles to the Sefer haMitsvot.
106
See, for example, his interpretation of the word in Leviticus 23;24. He makes the same point in his
Sermon for Rosh haShanah, printed in Kitvei Ramban, ed. C. Chavel (Mossad haRav Kook: Jerusalem,
1968), p. .
74

suggest, is to notice the not-doing of these activities, to experience the stepping back

from them as a positive element of one’s life and religious growth.

We have already noted that ceasing these creative activities is counted as a

positive commandment, as if the lack of the activity can form a positive religious goal.

That goal can be better understood by reminding ourselves of two technical facts about

these categories of labor. First, the Talmud derives the 39 categories from the

construction of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle built in the desert as a proto-Temple. 107

Something in stopping those kinds of creative acts—which, in that case, produced a

central place of worship—has a positive element.

The second technicality, the rule of hilluk melakhot, shows that each of these acts

could independently damage one’s Shabbat experience. That rule states that in the time

of the Temple, each of these types of labor, violated unintentionally, would incur the

liability of a separate sacrifice. In contrast, several unintentional violations of one

category of labor only obligated one sacrifice. A Jew who both planted and cooked on

Shabbat, for example, would have to offer two sacrifices to atone for his unintentional

sin, while one who cooked, baked, and fried, all the while without full realization of the

religious ramifications of this act, would only have to offer one sacrifice.108

That rule makes sense only if each of the prohibited Shabbat activities is

independently important. Were Shabbat just a composite created by observing the

various prohibitions, violating one should be no different than violating another, and the

rule should either be that all acts can be covered by one sacrifice or that each act,

107
See, for example, Shabbat 49b.
108
See Shabbat 70a, with Rashi, s.v. Hilluk Melakhot.
75

regardless of type, requires a separate sacrifice. Tying the number of sacrifices to the

number of categories violated means that the category is central to Shabbat observance.

Seeing each creative act as a separate type of violation distinguishes what the
Torah means by “rest” on Shabbat from the ordinary meaning of the word. Ordinarily,
rest involves a stopping of activity, a retreat from certain kinds of effort. On Shabbat, the
prescribed rest fulfills its purpose only if it pays attention to each of the categories from
which the person is resting. A cook, for example, could just sleep on Shabbat, but would
more fully experience the day’s rest by considering (either in his or her head or by sitting
in her kitchen and looking at where he or she ordinarily slaves) each of the ordinary
creative activities he or she is not doing that day. Jews’ rest on Shabbat ideally is an
attentive rest, a rest of awareness, not of lack of consciousness.
That picture of Shabbat rest also explains the imitatio Dei of Shabbat better than
the ordinary picture of rest as lack of activity. Jews stop creating on Shabbat, the Torah
says, to imitate God, who created the world in six days, and ceased on Shabbat, va-
yinafash. That word va-yinafash, which Rashi and Ibn Ezra translate as “and He revived
Himself,” is philosophically problematic, as Ibn Ezra notes.109
Perhaps because of those problems, the kabbalistic reading of the text was to
connect va-yinafash to nefesh, the soul, and to see this as a reference to the neshama
yeterah, the extra soul, that inhabits a Jew over the course of Shabbat. 110 Nahmanides
records another kabbalistic view that Shabbat maintains the soul, although he does not
explore the mechanism by which that happens.111 Our discussion explains how Shabbat
rejuvenates, in addition to improving our understanding of how it could even
metaphorically have been said about God.
Creativity, in all forms, cannot be continuous; bursts of creative activity depend
on periods of contraction and criticism, where the creator (or others) analyzes the work
that has been performed, see what has been achieved, and what remains to be perfected.112
Used as a time to consciously, actively, and thoughtfully step away from the week’s
various modes of creativity, Shabbat lays the groundwork for even more productive
creativity in the week to come. The rejuvenation feeds the creativity; it is not separate
from it.
Applying verses to God always involves difficult anthropomorphisms, but seeing
va-yinafash as referring to an active rest that sets up the next period of creativity offers a
palatable reading of the verse. It does not mean that God rejuvenated Himself, an
abhorrent idea, but that God stepped back from His most active involvement in Creation
for a period of review and consideration. Shabbat for people seeks the same kind of
active review of the week, in which the person considers how he or she created in the
week gone by, and learns lessons that will be helpful in the future.

109
Exodus 31; 17.
110
See, for example, Nahmanides’ comment on Exodus, 31;13.
111
Genesis 2;7.
112
As Matthew Arnold noted, in his essay, “On the Function of Criticism at the Present Time.”
76

Our interpretation of the kind of rest the Torah expected on Shabbat should affect

the experience of the second of the obligations related to Shabbat, the requirement to

verbally articulate that it has arrived.113 Instead of just announcing the advent of a blank

day, with no specific content intended, kiddush on Friday night ushers in a day of

contemplative review, in which the past week is put into as full a perspective as possible.

Maimonides includes havdallah, ushering Shabbat out verbally, as a Biblical

obligation, based in the same verse as that of kiddush, zakhor et yom haShabbat le-

kadesho, Remember the Sabbath day to make it holy.114 His opinion radically changes

the obligation. While common observance sees the Torah as caring only about declaring

Shabbat as it entered, Maimonides views the mitsvah as completely separating Shabbat

from the rest of the week verbally, which requires delineating its beginning and end.

Interestingly, Shabbat is one of the few holy days where we do not need to discuss

women separately from men, since the Talmud 115 infers that women share in all the

obligations of Shabbat, positive and prohibited. For Maimonides, that means that women

are also obligated, on a Torah level, in reciting havdallah at the end of Shabbat.

Taken together, these two mitsvot portray Shabbat as a completely separate time

of the week, set off by verbal declarations, either only at the beginning or both beginning

and end. During that separate time, the Torah expected separate behavior as well,
113
That we must make that statement over wine or bread is generally seen as a rabbinic requirement.

114
Exodus 20;7. Maimonides’ view seems to be based on his textual version of the
Talmudic selection, Pesahim 106a, that inferred the obligation from the verse. While
common texts read bi-kenisato, when it enters, Maimonides’ apparently read bi-kenisato
u-ve-yetsiato, when Shabbat enters and ends. The context favors the common version,
since the Talmud was discussing the need to make kiddush when Shabbat entered, and
whether there was an obligation of daytime kiddush as well.

115
Berakhot 20b.
77

characterized by a state of rest, not only the clearly defined rest of refraining from

physical exercise and from the specific prohibitions of Shabbat, but rest in the sense of

digesting the creative events of the well-lived previous week. That rest gives people a

chance to fulfill the goals of Shabbat, to put the previous week in perspective, laying the

groundwork for a productive week to come.

16)156—Getting Rid of Hamets (Leavened Bread)

Synopsis: Actively removing leavened bread from one’s possession reminds the Jew that
service of God should be performed with zeal and speed, not in a relaxed or lackadaisical
fashion.

As with Shabbat, the positive commandment for Jews to remove all leavened

bread from their possession forces us to consider the need for an `aseh, a positive

commandment, when a lo ta`aseh has already been instituted. The prohibition of bal

yera’eh, of having leavened bread,116 should obviate the need for a positive

commandment as well.117 Here, too, we will show that the Torah was pointing to a

positive religious goal in this removal, not just an avoidance of the leavened bread itself.

Minhat Hinukh suggests an answer that focuses on the technicalities of Jewish

law.118 In that system, positive commandments override simple prohibitions, which in

this case might have led to some positive commandment overriding the prohibition

against owning leaven. To avoid that vulnerability, Minhat Hinukh says, the Torah added

a positive commandment. Although that idea does not lead to any obvious religious

information, another of his ideas, this one also purely legal, can be expanded to articulate

116
Exodus 13;7. The verse reads “Matsot should be eaten for the seven days and there should be no
leavened bread seen for you nor found for you in all your borders.”
117
Exodus 12; 15. The verse reads: “Seven days you shall eat matsot; however, on the first day, you shall
remove all leaven from your households…”
118
Mitsvah 9.
78

a plausible theological reason for the Torah to command actively removing leaven in

addition to prohibiting its presence.

In that second discussion, Minhat Hinukh wonders whether Jews might be

obligated to own some leaven in the days leading up to Passover, so as to get rid of it for

the purposes of the positive commandment. While the prohibition only about ownership,

the commandment, he assumes in his question, establishes religious value in actively

removing it from one’s household.

The question itself points in a productive direction, reminding us that the mitsvah

establishes the removal of the leaven—not just its absence from the household-- as a

religious experience. For that to be tenable, though, we need to offer some reasonable

explanation of the positive value of hamets removal. Two simple suggestions spring to

mind, each relying on different assumptions as to the underlying reason for the

prohibition of hamets on Passover.

The first suggestion works off of the well-established Jewish tradition that

leavened bread on Passover symbolizes the evil inclination, the yetser hara. The symbol

of leaven as evil inclination has its roots in a post-prayer supplication that the Talmud

reports in the name of R. Alexandrai. He used to ask that God save the Jews from the se-

`or she-ba-isah, the leavening agent in the raw dough,119 a request included in early

prayerbooks, such as Seder R. Amram and Mahzor Vitry.120 In that locution, the se`or

she-ba-isah is a metaphor for the evil inclination.

119
Berakhot 17a.
120
The current common final prayer to the standing Amidah, elokai netsor, arose relatively recently, and
involved weeding out other personal post-amidah prayers recited by important Jewish figures.
79

R. David ibn Abu Zimra, Radbaz (1479-1573), ties the phrase to hamets on

Passover.121 Trying to explain the multiple rules set up by the Torah regarding hamets

(Jews must remove it from their possession, cannot own it over the course of the holiday,

and cannot eat it or get any benefit from it), he cites several sources that connect it to the

se-`or she-ba-`isah.

Fleshing out that connection, we would say that the Torah prohibited hamets to

heighten Jews’ awareness of the need to control or vanquish the evil inclination. The

positive commandment serves to remind Jews that awareness of that inclination is part of

the point; the goal of Passover is not only to get rid of hamets or the inclination it

symbolizes, but to realize that eternal vigilance is the price of keeping it at bay.

That reading, although more traditional than the one we will offer now, falters in

that it ignores bread’s complete permissibility during the rest of the year. Halakhah

accepts that bread is the staff of life, the basis of reciting the Grace After Meals, the warp

and woof of human nutrition, and fully acceptable other than on Passover. If it carries the

connotation of the evil inclination, why does it do so only on Passover? In addition, R.

Alexandrai’s prayer was said throughout the year, not only on the holiday. The phrase

se`or she-ba-isah, then, consistently stood for the evil inclination, even at times when

leavened bread was completely permissible; why should it be translated from metaphor

into physical reality only on Passover?

We therefore suggest another symbolism, based more narrowly on the Torah’s

discussion of the prohibition. The more famous of the Bible’s justifications of the need

to eat matsah on Passover is that the Jews did not have enough time to fully bake their

bread on the way out of Egypt (since they were leaving be-hipazon, hurriedly).
121
3:546.
80

Yet the prohibition of hamets on Passover was instituted before the Jews ever left

Egypt.122 Furthermore, God commanded the Jews to eat the first Paschal sacrifice be-

hipazon, with a sense of hurriedness, even though they did not leave Egypt until the next

morning. When we notice hipazon as a consistent motif in the holiday, we begin to

wonder whether it did not depend on any practical need to hurry, but because hipazon on

Passover carries a positive spiritual value that God wishes to inculcate within Jews.

While relaxation and calm is useful in many areas, mitsvot are ideally performed

with all appropriate speed. Passover, the season in which Jews relive their first national

experiences with God, is also a time when they were being told to reinvigorate their zeal

in performing mitzvot. In that context, the phrase that urges prompt performance of

mitsvot-- mitsvah haba’ah le-yadkha al tahamitsenah,123 when a mitsvah becomes

available, do not delay its performance-- interestingly uses the rare, but perhaps

conceptually crucial, verb of tahmitsenah, with the obvious root in hamets.

Hamets and its parallel, relaxation (it is, after all, bread that is allowed to rise, as

opposed to matsah, which must be carefully watched from the moment it starts being

made), are not inherently bad, which is why Jews may eat it freely during the rest of the

year. Allowing that attitude to dominate mitsvah observance, however, is problematically

lax. By forcing Jews to pause once a year, remove hamets completely from their

households and pay careful attention to the need for its opposite, zerizut, in their

relationship with God, the Torah sets up Passover as a periodic reminder of a broader

lesson about religious fervor, a lesson that can be sufficiently learned in one concentrated

burst every year.


122
Compare Deuteronomy 16;3, which refers to the hurry of leaving Egypt, with Exodus 12;15, which
commands a matsah holiday for all generations, before they have actually left.
123
See Rashi to bMegillah 6b, s.v. Ein Ma`avirin, based on Mekhilta de-R. Yishma’el, Massekhet de-Pisha,
9.
81

17)157 & 158--The Commandments to Tell the Story of the Exodus and to Eat Matsah

Synopsis: The obligations to relive the Passover story each year in one intensive evening,
and to fortify that memory by eating only matsah throughout the next seven days.

In presenting the mitsvah, Maimonides’ phrasing deserves emphasis. He ordains

that every Jew must tell the story ke-fi tsahut lashon hamesapper, according to the

storyteller’s skills of articulation. The commandment is thus not defined by any

particular set of words found in any particular book(s), but for each individual to tell the

story as well and fully as possible. That in turn means that participants in a Seder should

be striving for length and detail in describing the greatness of what God did for them, the

cruelties the Egyptians committed, how God took revenge, and thanks for His kindnesses.

This, Maimonides says, is the meaning of the Rabbis’ motto that whoever tells more

about the Exodus is to be praised.

Complex phenomena—and the Exodus certainly qualifies— cannot be easily or

quickly understood. On Seder night, Jews are attempting to fully describe what God did

for them; at a minimum, that requires understanding (perhaps reliving) the situation

before God stepped in, God’s actions in taking them out, and the subtexts of those actions

(setting up a permanent relationship with the Jewish people on the basis of that event, for

example). Accomplishing such a textured retelling is a daunting task for one evening’s

work, and people will succeed to varying extents depending on their capabilities.124

124
Maimonides’ description of the mitzvah seems to exclude an opinion often quoted,
that discussing laws of the Seder, such as the definition of matsah or maror, also qualifies
as sippur yetsiat mitsrayim, as telling the Exodus story. According to Maimonides, that
would seem to hold true only to the extent that the investigation of those halakhot
improves the person’s understanding of the original events. If a deeper understanding of
the rules for baking matsah helps define something about the haste with which the Jews
left—for example, in line with the discussion in the previous mitzvah, if those rules
define the kind of hipazon the Torah wished Jews to evince in their performance of
mitsvot, or the vegetables that qualify for maror help define the troubles the Jew endured
82

As on other occasions, the question of women’s obligation will help us

understand the issue as a whole. Maimonides does not mention women’s obligation,

although halakhah generally assumes that women are as obligated to tell the story as

men.125 Maimonides’ silence, coupled with the time element in this observance, led

Minhat Hinukh to question whether women were actually so obligated. Others, however,

point out that Maimonides explicitly notes when women are exempt, at least in the Sefer

haMitsvot, and does not comment here. His silence more likely means that women are

equally obligated. The question then becomes (probably for Maimonides, but certainly

for other authorities), how we know that women are included in this commandment.

One possibility is that women’s obligation in matsah inherently applies to women

as well. Matsah, too, is a mitsvat `aseh she-hazman grama, but the Talmud explicitly

expands the obligation to women, noting that anyone who is prohibited from eating

hamets on Passover is included in the obligation to eat matsah.126 Perhaps, then, this

reasoning extends to telling the story as well.

Of course, the problem with that suggestion is that the Talmud does not mention

the telling of the Exodus story in that context. Minhat Hinukh noted that R. Nissim of

Gerona (Ra”n) assumed that women are obligated in all the positive commandments of

Shabbat, based on their obligation in shamor, the prohibitions. The Talmud, however,

only explicitly includes them in the obligation of kiddush, the zakhor. Ra”n apparently

assumes that kiddush was just an example, but that the Talmudic principle was that

anyone obligated in the prohibitions of a day would be included in its positive elements
in Egypt-- it would make sense that delving into those halakhot could help in the retelling
of the story.
125
See Shulhan Arukh Orah Hayyim 472:14, with Responsa Yehaveh Da`at 2:65.
126
bPesahim 43b.
83

as well. That comment, applied to Passover, would mean that women’s inclusion in the

prohibition of eating hamets includes them in all the positive commandments of the

holiday, not just matsah.

In support of that logic, we can note that, both here and in his legal code, 127

Maimonides mentions the similarity of the obligation of remembering the Exodus on

Passover and of remembering the Shabbat. He might have chosen to compare the two for

many reasons, but to suggest that he was hinting at Ra”n’s idea (that here, too, women

are included in all the `asehs of the day by virtue of their inclusion in the lo ta`asehs) is

as good a candidate as any.

A second possibility is supported by Maimonides’ decision to place the mitsvah of

eating matsah after the one of telling the Exodus story in his count. Since the

commandment to eat matsah comes two verses after the obligation to rid Jewish homes of

hamets, we would have expected Maimonides to record them right near each other

(although he does not attempt to follow the order of the Torah, here the two mitsvot are

close both conceptually and physically). His inserting the storytelling imperative in

between perhaps shows that he saw that mitsvah as inherently connected to the matsah-

eating one.128 If so, he might have thought that all those obligated in eating matsah

necessarily are obligated in telling the story, a logic that would have included women.

Having mentioned the connection between the obligation to tell the story of the

Exodus and the obligation to eat matsah, we should spend a moment clarifying that latter

obligation. The Torah speaks often of eating matsah for the seven days of Passover, but

does not specifically command it; indeed, the Talmud assumes that there was only an

127
Laws of Hamets and Matsah 7;1.
128
See Pesahim 36a, it is a bread over which we tell many stories.
84

actual requirement to eat matsah on the first night of the holiday. In the time of the

Temple, that obligation was connected to the eating of the Paschal sacrifice; after that

time, the Talmud says, “ba`erev tokhlu matsot, in the evening you shall eat matsah,”129

provides the de-oraita obligation.130 Other than that first night, as far as the Talmud

informs us, eating matsah is the only way to eat a bread product on Passover, but is not

itself obligatory.

Some authorities nonetheless viewed the eating of matsah as a mitzvah throughout

the holiday.131 Having connected the eating of matsah to the recitation of the Passover

story, we can understand that continuing obligation as an attempt to fortify the lessons

learned the first night of Passover throughout the course of the seven day holiday. Each

time a Jew eats matsah on Passover, ideally, the events of the Exodus reverberate in that

Jew’s mind, helping insure that it remain a part of his or her memories and life-

experiences during the rest of the year.

The three mitsvot connected to Passover, the obligation to remove hamets, to tell

the Exodus story, and to eat matsah thus combine, in our presentation, to produce a

specific set of lessons meant to carry over to the entire year. Hamets, prohibited

inherently, not just because of the Jews’ hasty exit from Egypt, symbolizes a relaxed,

unhurried approach to life. The Jews’ leaving Egypt was deliberately performed in a

hurried fashion, however, to create the lasting memory among Jews that service of God

should be undertaken with alacrity and speed, not lackadaisically and slowly.

Telling the Exodus story keeps those miracles alive as realities of a Jew’s life; in a

129
Exodus 12;18.
130
See Pesahim 120a.
131
See, for example, Tsits Eliezer 10;27.
85

world where belief in God is often difficult, the memory of those miracles should

maintain the Jew’s belief in a God who is both able and interested in affecting the

outcomes of human history. While the telling itself hopefully carries those messages,

eating matsah with that telling, and then continuing to eat that symbolic food, is meant to

insure that the memory stays a living part of the Jew’s life throughout the year.

This way of viewing the issue also explains the lack of gender differentiation.

While ordinarily women would be exempt from mitsvot such as eating matsah or telling

the Exodus story, since they are time-related, they are too fundamental to faith in God

and miracles for the Torah to allow for women to ignore them. A Jew, male or female,

must have the Exodus firmly anchored at the base of his or her belief in God, and only

the repeated retellings of the story, along with eating matsah, can provide that anchor

fully.

18)159, 160, 162, 163, 166, 167 —The Obligation to Desist from Creative Activity on Six
Holy Days
Synopsis: The obligation, six times a year, to set aside a day for cessation of creative
labor, to celebrate with public assemblies and with eating.

As we mentioned in the opening of this section, these commandments order Jews

to rest from creative activity on the six holidays ordained by the Torah, the first and

seventh days of Passover, the day of Pentecost (Shavuot), the day of Rosh haShanah, the

first day of Tabernacles (Sukkot), and Shemini Atseret, the eighth day of Sukkot. We also

pointed out that the special obligations that apply to each holiday, individualize them.

We will elaborate each holiday’s separate character in discussing those mitsvot hayom.

Here, we want to account for the common thread of these days, highlighted by the

Torah’s characterizing all of them as both mikra kodesh, which most literally means an

appointed holy time, and shabbaton, a Shabbat-like day. Similarly, when Maimonides
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and the Shulhan Arukh codified the laws of rest on these days, they did so in a summary

fashion, in a section entitled Hilkhot Yom Tov. It would be a mistake, then, to focus only

on the various holidays’ individuality; here, we will discuss that which is common to all

of the holidays, and the religious function they share.

Mikra kodesh probably indicates some kind of public assembly in addition to

meaning a time defined as holy. Shabbaton, as we mentioned earlier, means a day of

physical rest in addition to rest from all creative activity except for that which is

necessary for providing the proper food for the celebration of the day. Putting just these

two basic terms together, we see that a holiday is a publicly- announced day, in which the

community gathers together for various purposes, throughout which people are meant to

relax.

A difference in the creative labor prohibitions of Shabbat and the holidays

reminds us that eating was important to the full experience of a holiday. The Torah refers

to the activity from which to desist on the holidays as melekhet avodah, which the

Talmud assumes means that Jews were allowed to perform melekhet okhel nefesh,

creative activity undertaken to provide food.132 That area of permissible creative activity,

which extends to carrying items from place to place (prohibited on Shabbat) and burning

fires, at least when those acts have some Yom Tov use, emphasizes the importance of

being able to enjoy the food of the holiday as fully as possible.

132
See Mekhilta to Parshat Bo, section 9, and Megillah 7b. The Talmud notes, there and in several other
places, a tannaitic debate as to whether a Jew could violate the ordinary holiday restrictions in order to
prepare makhshirei okhel nefesh, items needed to prepare food. Shulhan Arukh 495;1 rules that only those
items that could not have been made ready the day before can be made on the holiday itself. While there is
some debate as to the reason for this prohibition, Maimonides phrases it nicely as an attempt to avoid
people preoccupying themselves with permitted labor rather than enjoying the day itself. The permitted
activities, he notes, were only allowed so as to increase the joy of the day, not to leave room for a day of
labor disguised as a holiday.
87

Perhaps parallel to the American model of a day off from work and a parade,

when the Torah wanted Jews to take account of important occasions, it ordained that they

observe a full day of rest from all creative labor—so as to allow for proper awareness of

the day’s themes and concerns— have a public assembly, and celebrate with a feast.133

As we have noted before, the Torah stated these obligations as positive

commandments (in addition to prohibitions) to indicate that there is a positive value to

the experience rather than just avoiding some negative consequence. Here, the positive

aspect is that the rules of the holiday insure that we will free enough space, time, and

psychic energy to experience God on six central occasions of the year, each for its own

reason and in its own way.

19)161—Counting the Omer


Synopsis: The obligation to connect Pesah, a holiday of renewing one’s general
relationship with God, to Shavuot, a holiday of renewing one’s specifically holy acts, by
counting the days from one to the next.

The mitzvah of counting the Omer obligates Jews to count each of the forty-nine

days from the second day of Passover until the holiday of Shavuot. In the Torah’s

presentation of it, this counting responds to the offering of the Omer sacrifice, a barley

offering from that year’s new harvest, and leads up to the offering of the shetei halehem,
133
Although we are assuming there is an obligation of eating on holidays, some halakhic authorities
disagreed. Compare Tosafot Berakhot 49b to Sukkah 27a, in each case s.v. I Ba`ei. Based on bPesahim
68b, Shulhan Arukh Orah Hayyim 529 assumes an obligation to spend half of each holiday feasting and
engaging in enjoyable activities.
One other legal principle supports the view that holidays were meant to be free of
encumbrances, to allow for focus on certain central themes. On holidays, there is no
differentiation among the various melakhot of the kind that we saw before regarding
Shabbat. Whereas each type of creative activity is punished separately on Shabbat, they
are all treated the same on holidays. Noting this distinction, R. Aharon Lichtenstein once
suggested that a holiday is about creating a certain freedom from ordinary life, so any
interruption of that atmosphere is as bad as any other. On Shabbat, in contrast, the point
was not only to create a certain atmosphere, but that each different type of activity was
inherently prohibited on that day, hence the different result in terms of the need to atone
for such sins.
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two loaves of bread made from the new crop of wheat and offered in the Temple.

Theoretically, that would mean that in the absence of a Temple, there would be no

Biblical obligation to count the Omer.

Maimonides, however, ruled that the Biblical obligation was in full force even in

a post-Temple era, a position that distinguishes him from most medieval authorities,

including Sefer haHinukh.134 The second group assumes that the mitsvah depends on the

bringing of the Omer sacrifice, the Minchat haOmer, which only occurred when the

Temple was still standing. According to those rabbis, the mitsvah is for each adult male

Jew to count daily from the event of bringing the Omer to the holiday of Shavuot.135

Aside from relegating our Counting of the Omer to the Rabbinic realm, that view

also closes off a possible understanding of the role of the holiday of Shavuot in post-

Temple times. As a Temple-holiday, Shavuot saw the offering of the shetei halehem, two

breads baked from grain of the new harvest, with an accompanying sacrifice and

celebration. Outside of the Temple, the Torah offers little information about the meaning

of the holiday. Maimonides’ view that counting the Omer is a timeless mitzvah offers at

least one way to develop insight into the holiday’s contribution.136

To get to that meaning requires developing some picture of the meaning of the

mitzvah itself. Sefer haHinukh reads the mitzvah as stressing the importance of

134
See Sefer haHinukh 306; Beit Yosef Orah Haytyim 489 cites Tosafot, Rosh, and Ran, as assuming that
the mitzvah is currently Rabbinic.
135
The mitzvah is, obviously, an example of a mitsvat `aseh she-hazman gerama, which, to digress briefly,
points out that that category had little to do with the time constraints placed on the obligated person. It
takes three seconds to count the Omer; nothing in the time-demands placed on women suggests that they
could not fulfill such a requirement.
136
See Leviticus 23;15-22. As far as the Torah defines it, the holiday has little character outside of those
aspects.
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connecting the Exodus from Egypt to the receiving of the Torah.137 In that reading—

which he offers only as an explanation of Maimonides’ view, since he accepted the

majority opinion that the Biblical mitzvah applies only when the Omer was actually

offered—the counting is more about bridging the gap between the two holidays than

about the Omer experience at all. That ignores the Torah’s consistent emphasis on the

connection of this mitsvah to the Omer offering.

By focusing on the underlying ideas of the progression from the offering of the

Omer to the offering of the shetei halehem, we can develop an alternate explanation that

allows for the timelessness of the mitsvah yet maintains a clearer connection to the Omer.

In technical terms, the offering of the Omer is a matir, an act that removes a prohibition,

in this case the prohibition of hadash, a Biblical prohibition against using any grain

planted after the bringing of the previous year’s Omer until the next Omer is offered.

The Omer only rendered permissible grain used outside of the Temple; the Temple itself

did not use new grain until the shetei halehem, the two loaves of bread, were brought on

Shavuot.

The two offerings teach two lessons that can also be applied more universally.

First, these mitsvot, like many others, teach that Jews do not use the world’s bounty until

giving some to God. The grain harvest, being considered an experience of God’s bounty,

means that some should be offered to God before using it. This example of that message

additionally reminds Jews that the mundane and the sacred need to be separated,

including renewing them separately, in service of God. Even after the Jewish people

renew their appreciation of God’s grain by offering the Omer, the Torah required a

137
Sefer haHinukh 306.
90

distinct dedication process before the Temple partook of that new grain. Though the

basic act is the same, recognizing God’s bounty before partaking of it, the two realms

differ enough to require separate acts.

Broadening the lesson of the shetei halehem to Shavuot as a whole makes us

realize that it was a holiday meant to rededicate and renew those acts of service of God

that occur directly in the sacred realm. Maimonides, who sees the counting as universally

applicable, might then be saying that those lessons are not Omer dependent. Each year,

as Jews renew their relationship with God on Pesah, they are also supposed to remember

that they must separately rededicate their specifically holy acts as well. Although the acts

of the holiday itself were all Temple-dependent, the lessons of the day, reinforced by the

Counting of the Omer, apply at all times.138

20)164--The Obligation to Afflict One’s Soul on Yom Kippur


Synopsis: The obligation to experience a day of freedom from physicality while praying
to God for atonement of sins.

The central observance of Yom Kippur—commonly thought of as fasting,

although the Torah actually defines it more broadly than that, as we will see—is codified

in both a positive and a prohibitive form (an aseh and a lo ta`aseh). As before, we will

here seek the positive religious value indicated by the `aseh side of that equation. This is

a particularly challenging example, since fasting seems so obviously to be a prohibition,

not a positive religious act.

138
With only a little stretching, Sefer haHinukh’s idea can be made to correlate with this one. Since
Passover is the holiday of the Exodus—a mostly political event—and Shavuot the time when tradition
assumed that the Revelation at Sinai occurred, connecting the two holidays similarly stresses the need to
connect the mundane experience of God, on Passover, to the sacred one, on Shavuot.
That also explains, incidentally, why the Giving of the Law on Shavuot became so important after
the Destruction of the Temple. At a simple level, it was the only content left to give the holiday. Given our
analysis, however, it also fits thematically with the message that was conveyed during the Temple era by
the observances of those times.
91

Reminding ourselves that the Torah refers to `inui nefesh, not fasting, starts us on

the road to the understanding we seek.139 The Talmud, in fact, lists five forms of

affliction, eating and drinking (which count as one), washing, anointing with oil, wearing

shoes, and engaging in marital relations, all of which qualify as obligatory `inui nefesh.140

Soul affliction, then, addresses more than just refraining from imbibing food.141

The amounts of food and drink that create liability on Yom Kippur also differ

from other areas of halakhah. Most eating-obligations focus on a kezayit, an olive’s

worth, or a ke-bezah, the volume of an egg. Drinking obligations generally focus on a

rov revi`it, a liquid measure thought today to be about 3 ounces.

Knowing the amount that creates liability on Yom Kippur is important in three

ways.142 First, as mentioned, that is the amount that leads to the highest level of

punishment, although any amount of eating or drinking is prohibited. Second, if someone

falls ill on Yom Kippur and needs to eat, halakhah recommends trying to feed them less

than that amount, so as to minimize the extent to which the person has to violate Yom

Kippur (as long as there is no meaningful danger in trying to do so). Third, and this is the

element that will help us here, the prescribed amount yields insight into what the Torah

was aiming for in prohibiting eating and drinking on this day.

139
See, for example, Leviticus 16:31.
140
mYoma 8:1.

141
Nonetheless, eating and drinking have a special status in this list, in that they are the
only ones for which Jewish tradition assumed the transgressor would merit the karet
penalty.
142
Any amount of eating or drinking is prohibited on Yom Kippur, since Jewish law rules that hatsi shiur
assur min haTorah--Torah prohibitions extend to even less than the ordained amount, see bYoma 73b.
Only those who imbibe the amounts mentioned in the text incur the full liability.
92

Had that amount been a kezayit, we would have understood that the food

prohibition on Yom Kippur was similar to the pig prohibition throughout the year or the

hamets prohibition on Passover, simple food prohibitions, each with their own reason.

Instead, the Talmud notes that it takes eating a large date or drinking the volume of one

cheek to incur that liability, since at that point the food puts the person’s soul at ease.

Having had his or her soul put at ease, the person can no longer be described as being

engaged in inui nefesh, in afflicting his or her soul.

Rather than caring about the act of eating or drinking, then, the Torah seems to

focus on maintaining a state of `inui nefesh, since it is ruining that state that leads to the

full Divine punishment. Maimonides and Sefer haHinukh offer interesting explanations

for why the Torah was concerned with such soul-affliction. In Mitsvah 313, the Hinukh

sees `inui nefesh as supporting Jews’ attempts to achieve atonement on this day. Using

the analogy of a slave who comes before his master for forgiveness, Sefer haHinukh

notes how inappropriate it would be for that slave to appear with a mind focused

elsewhere, and still enslaved to his various sins. So, too, God wanted Jews not to seek

forgiveness while still enmeshed in their physical desires. In that picture, each moment

of fasting is inherently important, a moment free of physical problems.

Maimonides, in both Sefer haMitsvot and Mishneh Torah, uses the verb shevitah,

resting or desisting, for what Jews do in regard to food on this day. Although he does not

specifically explain the term, our previous experience with it, in the context of Shabbat

and holidays, suggests that he means that refraining from eating in some way creates a

different atmosphere for the day, one conducive to the day’s goals.
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Simply recalling that the Torah uses the word `inui for what is going on offers an

explanation for how it does so. The soul and the body are only connected during life, in

the picture of Jewish tradition. Food, which satisfies a bodily need, at the same time

helps maintain the soul’s connection to the body. Refraining from food loosens the

connection, which both afflicts and frees the soul. Since the leaving from the body is

difficult for the soul, freeing it is both hard and easy; it is painful as it occurs, but it

allows the soul to reach spiritual heights it cannot ordinarily reach.

Judaism does not generally picture human souls as imprisoned in their physical

bodies; the soul gains from the body as well, since it is the body’s performance of mitsvot

that elevates the soul in its appreciation and awareness of God.143 Nonetheless, the soul

on its own is able to connect to spirituality more quickly and surely than when caught up

in physical concerns.

On Yom Kippur, designated by God as a day of atonement and forgiveness, God

ordered Jews to forego (or severely limit) their physical connections to the greatest extent

possible, to—for one day a year—free the soul to express itself most fully. The acts that

create that freedom, fasting and so on, pain the soul at the same time as freeing it, which

explains why the Torah refers to it as `inui.

Reading the affliction of souls and desisting from eating as facilitating the greatest

possible soul experience of Yom Kippur also suggests that that affliction/rest grows in

intensity throughout the day. On Yom Kippur night, when most Jews have eaten a large

meal in preparation for the fast (as Jewish law commands), the fast does not yet create

significant affliction, nor indeed does it create significant rest from physical concerns.

143
Many medieval thinkers assumed that the World to Come would reward the soul and the body together,
since both had contributed to the merits that earned this reward.
94

Towards the late afternoon of Yom Kippur, the fast, the affliction, and the desisting, have

more significant impact than earlier.144

Seeing inui nefesh as a state to be achieved over the course of the day could also

explain why the Torah would ordain the afflictions as a positive commandment as well as

a prohibition. Were eating, etc., distractions that needed to be avoided, a prohibition

should have sufficed. The Torah’s adding a positive commandment supports the view

that the inyuyim help Jews achieve a certain state.

The afflictions other than eating and drinking are treated differently in Jewish

law, leading many medieval authorities to assert that they are rabbinically ordained.145

Others, however, assert that all the inuyim are de-oraita, but that the Torah granted

Rabbis the right to define them.146 They would read the phrase `inui nefesh as indefinite,

specifically including only eating and drinking. Beyond that, the Torah expected the

Rabbis to define other activities that could support that same experience, which became

prohibitions against washing, anointing, etc. This concept of Rabbis’ contribution to the

definition of Torah law, which we have seen to some extent in defining how to rest on

Shabbat and appears in other contexts as well, assumes that the Rabbis were given a role

144
This could, perhaps, apply equally to Shabbat. Having just finished all the preparations for the day, a
Jew after candle lighting does not, perhaps, yet experience the rest of Shabbat as much as towards the end
of the following day. If so, Shabbat, like Yom Kippur, would be progressive rather than static.
145
See, for example, R. Asher to Yoma 8;1. First, in these other afflictions, the Talmud permits some forms
of the action for various reasons. For example, one may wash to remove actual dirt from one’s body, or
wear shoes if walking barefoot would create too great a discomfort. See Shulhan Arukh Orah Hayyim 613;
1 and 5. If the requirement to avoid wetness was de-oraita, the reasoning goes, Rabbis would not have been
so lenient. While the Talmud offers prooftexts for the afflictions other than eating/drinking, these
authorities view them as asmakhta, meaning they are not offered as definitive proof, but as a textual
support.
146
See the discussion in Beit Yosef 611;1.
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in completing the process of defining central Judaism, not only in adding their own

protective boundaries and obligations as time went on.

21)165 -- To Desist from Creative Activity on Yom Kippur


Synopsis: To create a proper environment for focusing on the atonement of the day.

Resting on Yom Kippur would seem to have been covered in previous

discussions, either the one of resting on Shabbat or on holidays. Neither quite fits,

however, as we shall see.

For most purposes, the comparison to Shabbat fits best. The definition of the

kinds of activities from which Jews must desist on Yom Kippur is almost exactly the

same as that on Shabbat (as opposed to holidays, as discussed earlier). In fact,

Maimonides and Sefer haHinukh147 equate the two, leading Maimonides to assert that on

Yom Kippur, as on Shabbat, the prohibition of creative labor extends to acts that are

similar to the original categories of prohibited creativity.

That would mean that on Yom Kippur as well as on Shabbat the goal of the

positive commandment is to actively expand the narrow categories created by the Torah.

Those categories are supposed to be developed into a fuller understanding of the ways in

which we change the world around us and to desist from those activities. For Shabbat,

we previously explained that that helped a Jew more fully imitate God’s rest on the

seventh day. That reasoning does not help with Yom Kippur, where there is no portrayal

of God resting.

One approach, a fairly technical one, would assert that all special days should

involve desisting from all creative labor, to allow for proper focus on the purpose of the

day. Shabbat, then, would be a paradigm of the need for people to occasionally step

147
317.
96

away from their ordinary labors, to appreciate aspects of their existence they might

otherwise neglect. The special rules for other holidays, this line of reasoning would

suggest, was an exception carved out to facilitate celebration and feasting. Yom Kippur,

when eating is prohibited, simply stayed in the usual category of full prohibition of such

acts. That view sees Yom Kippur’s extra prohibitions as telling us about holidays in

general, not so much about the day itself.

Alternatively, we suggest that Yom Kippur has a broader set of actions that are

inappropriate because the day requires a more concentrated focus than other holidays.

Repenting properly and achieving atonement may make greater demands on human

concentration than the goals and foci of the other holidays. As opposed to a celebration

of freedom, of dedicating a new harvest to be used for Temple purposes, of remembering

God’s care of the Jews in the desert, the proper experience of Yom Kippur may have

been meant to be more intense than the other days, an intensity signaled by the broad

prohibitions.

That discussion aside, we should note that Yom Kippur is not exactly the same as

Shabbat. Yom Kippur violations, for example, are punished with karet, a Divine

punishment that human courts can replace by administering lashes, rather than mittah,

capital punishment. Aside from changing the consequences for the sinner, the difference

defines two different loci of primary concern with enforcing proper observance.

Although the Talmud envisions human courts as providing atonement for such

sins by administering lashes,148 the punishment the Torah explicitly delineates for

148
See, for example, bMakkot 13b.
97

violating Yom Kippur, karet, is in the hands of God. For Shabbat, however, a human

court bears the full responsibility to administer the punishment for the transgression.

Any reason for this is speculative, but we suggest that the observance of Yom

Kippur (outside the Temple) is primarily individual, each Jew using the day to properly

focus on repentance and forgiveness, while rest on Shabbat is a communal matter, that of

creating a certain seventh-day experience for the Jewish people. Many of the

technicalities of Yom Kippur are similar to Shabbat, then, but the full discussion of the

day shows it to be a more private, goal-focused day than Shabbat, which looked to form a

public and private environment of the day.

22)168--To Live in a Sukkah for Seven Days


Synopsis: To remember the time in the desert by setting up a temporary booth as male
Jews’ central residences during the holiday.

Living in a sukkah on Sukkot, the correct way to translate the Torah’s “ba-sukkot

teshvu, you shall sit (read: reside),”149 involves, primarily, eating, drinking, and sleeping

in the Sukkah. That command mostly means to perform any of those actions in a Sukkah

whenever the Jew chooses to perform them. By that standard, someone who fasted or did

not sleep during the holiday would not have to enter his Sukkah.

On the first night of the holiday, though, the Talmud infers a specific requirement

to eat in the Sukkah, regardless of weather conditions that might normally exempt a

person from the commandment. One opinion in the Talmud required eating fourteen

meals in the sukkah, two for each day of the holiday, but that is not accepted in practice.

In defining the amounts that would obligate eating in the sukkah, the Talmud

assumes that one may snack outside, but that akhilat qeva, a set meal, must take place in

149
Leviticus 23:42.
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a Sukkah, although the definition of akhilat qeva is not clearly articulated. The Shulhan

Arukh rules that up until an egg’s worth (a ke-betsah) of bread is not considered a meal,

but also praises those who are careful not to even drink water outside of the sukkah.150

There is, then, a minimal definition of living in the sukkah (avoiding those actions that

necessarily constitute living), and a maximal one (performing all of one’s activities in the

sukkah), with room for personal choice along that continuum.

The Bible defines the basic function of the Sukkah, remembering that God had

placed the Jewish people in Sukkot during the Exodus,151 which also allows us to

understand the sliding scale of necessary involvement with the mitsvah. Reminders are

necessarily personal, since people’s memories work differently. For some, sitting in a

sukkah only when eating their fullest meals will still carry over into their experience of

the rest of the day and of life. For others, a more frequent presence in the sukkah is

necessary to achieve the active memory sought by the mitsvah. While halakhah defines a

minimal standard for living in a sukkah, the maximal standard is to have that experience

dominate one’s experience of these days, to most fully inculcate the message of Divine

Providence embedded in the observance.

This commandment is another of those from which women were freed of

obligation, another example of a mitsvat `aseh she-hazman grama. Here, at least, we can

see how the common reading of such mitsvot, that they create excessive burdens on

mothers, might be relevant. In addition, though, this is another mitsvah that ordains a

specific ritual practice to impress certain values upon Jews, meaning that it intrudes not

so much in terms of time, but personal freedom. The time involved in living in a sukkah

150
See Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 639:2, based on mSukkah 2:4 and 5.
151
Leviticus 23:43.
99

might be less of a problem for women, than the requirement to adjust one’s life to the

needs of the mitsvah, leaving little room for flexibility in how to learn that lesson, how to

inculcate that memory. That issue of lifestyle-intrusion seems relevant to considering

why the Torah exempted women from this category, and we will return to it again in our

study of this gender gap in the religion.

23)169--To Take A Lulav on Sukkot


Synopsis: To shake four species together on the holiday for a symbolic purpose, either as
part of the celebration of God’s Providence and sustenance, or to remind the Jew of the
parts of the body and the need to use them in service of God.

Maimonides defines the mitsvah of lulav as bundling four species—lulav (palm

branch), etrog (citron), hadassim (myrtle branches), and aravot (willow branches)-- and

rejoicing with that bundle for seven days of Sukkot in the Temple and taking it on the

first day of Sukkot anywhere in the world. In the introduction to the relevant section of

his Code, Maimonides mentions only the Temple aspect of the mitsvah, leaving the first-

day obligation for the text of the chapter that discusses lulav. The comment about

rejoicing with the lulav suggests that he saw the lulav itself as an object inducing (or

contributing) to the joy of the holiday.

For contrast, compare the Sefer haHinukh’s formulation,152 which does not

mention rejoicing in the context of the mitsvah. In offering a reason for the mitsvah, the

Seefer haHinukh views the lulav as a replacement for tefillin (which he assumes are not

worn during the entire holiday). Since the holiday is a time of joy, some tangible object

was needed to remind Jews of the proper standards of behavior, which is what the four

species of the lulav-bundle are geared towards. For the Hinukh, the lulav reminds Jews

152
Mitsvah 324.
100

to express our joy properly and decorously; for Maimonides, it seems to be the source of

that joy.

Maimonides’s view explains why the mitsvah applies all seven days only in the

Temple more easily than does the Hinukh’s. The verse about lulav speaks of rejoicing

“before God” for seven days. If the lulav is the source of that joy, we know why it has to

be part of the experience. Outside of the Temple, however, the verse simply commands

Jews to take the four species on the first day, meaning that there is a mitsvah of rejoicing

in the Temple and of taking—simply picking the bundle up and shaking it-- elsewhere.

The Hinukh is forced to suggest that outside the Temple the joy is not as great on

succeeding days and there is therefore no need to have a lulav on all those days, a

suggestion that has no specific textual basis.

Their differing views of the mitsvah suggest differing symbolisms as well. For

Maimonides, since the lulav is a vehicle of joy, it ties naturally into the joy of the holiday

as a whole, which seems to focus on God’s Providence and its effect on our securing

livelihood (or harvest, in an agricultural society). In that version, the four species

represent the produce and plant life whose growth and success the holiday celebrates.

The Hinukh instead focuses on how the species can represent parts of the human body,

seeing them as a reminder to use one’s body for Divine service. That reading, of course,

separates lulav from the messages broadcast by the other parts of the holiday. What the

lulav means, then, is as much up in the air as the fundamental purpose of the mitsvah.

24)170--To Hear Shofar on Rosh haShanah


Synopsis: To hear nine blasts of a horn on Rosh haShanah, those sounds representing
important reminders relevant to the day.
101

Like with lulav, the Torah does not clearly explain the purpose of blowing the

shofar. In the section of the Code devoted to those laws, Maimonides does not offer a

suggestion, but in Laws of Repentance, he suggests that it is meant as a kind of wake-up

call, reminding Jews to repent. Sefer haHinukh follows a similar line, likening it to the

trumpets that call people to war; on this day, Jews are being called to battle their evil

inclination, so that God can judge them graciously and allow them more time to live and

attempt to better themselves.153

The Rabbis’ connecting the blowing of the Shofar to the central blessings of the

Additional Prayer-- malkhuyot (Kingship), shofarot (the sounds of Shofar), and zikhronot

(Memory)—means that they saw a thematic connection with those blessings as well. 154

With our attention drawn to those blessings, we can easily see the shofar association.

When kings enter a room there is a flourish of trumpets, so the blowing of the

shofar could be reminding Jews to reaffirm God’s rule in the world by blowing the

trumpets of His arrival. The shofarot blessing reviews Scriptural verses that speak of the

use of the shofar on various public occasions, such as the Giving of the Torah at Sinai

and the future advent of the Messiah. That may be because memory of those events

serves as a merit for the Jews, or at least as a “reminder” to God of the permanent

connection between Him and the Jewish people. The blessing of zikhronot speaks of

sympathetic memory, in which God remembers human actions with an eye toward mercy,

with the implication that the shofar facilitates positive memories, in this case God’s

merciful memory of the people being judged on this day.

153
Mitsvah 405.
154
See mRosh haShanah 4;5.
102

Given the multiple possible explanations of the sound of the shofar—and there are

numerous others—we realize that the sound of the shofar is so filled with symbolism that

no one symbol can fully capture its meaning. In the way that white light unites the entire

spectrum of light, that it brings a great deal of content into a unity into an undifferentiated

unity, the sound of the shofar may also bring numerous meanings and symbolism

together, to the point that it returns to being a simple sound. Shofar is the white light of

Rosh haShanah, reminding Jews, cajoling God, and, Jews hope, issuing the sound of

mercy and forgiveness in judgement.


103

Conclusion to Part II

The holidays, this section has shown us, make Jews pause their ordinary lives to

educate themselves about their relationship with God. The positive requirement to rest

on Shabbat proves that the goal is not relaxation so much as a refreshing break to prepare,

a hiatus that allows Jews to step back from their activities of the rest of the week, to attain

perspective on what has been accomplished. The other holidays, days of feasting and

celebration, each teach their own lessons, both in the fact of celebrating that day as well

as bt the particular mitsvot that apply to that day. Yom Kippur, the exceptional holiday

that bears some resemblance both to Shabbat and the other holidays, seeks to allow the

soul, ordinarily intertwined with the physical, the sole expression in that person’s life for

one day a year.

That educative motif opened a possible explanation for why the Torah did not

include women in many of the specific obligations of the holidays. Were the ritual itself

a central part of a well-lived Jewish life, we would have no explanation for the Torah’s

lack of concern about women’s observance. Having realized, through our study of the

laws in question, that these observances come to teach specific lessons, we have

suggested that the Torah did not insist on teaching those lessons to all people in the same

way. Women were allowed a freer hand in fulfilling their overall obligation to achieve

the lesson of the holiday; they had the same general experience of the day as men, but

could shape their specific observance more to their own personal needs and inclinations.

As we had hoped, analyzing some of the laws of these days enriched our

understanding of what the religion meant its adherents to experience and to learn from

those observances. The same educative/formative motif applied earlier to the


104

philosophical mitsvot, and will be true of the next sections as well. Those sections will be

briefer, but will round out the life of the Jew into a more complete whole than just what

we have seen so far, the need for certain beliefs and awarenesses and the regular

observance of the special days.


105

PART III—THE REST OF THE SIXTY

By grouping the mitsvot in Maimonides’ list thematically, we have seen that the

philosophical ones and the holiday ones—those that taught appreciation of God and those

that commanded the observance of certain days of remembrance and education-- account

for over half of the sixty mitsvot that apply in all times and places. No such large

categories unify the other mitsvot on the list; by force of necessity, we have divided them

into several categories.

Those categories themselves already tell us a great deal about Maimonides’ view

of Universal Positive Judaism. That some of the mitsvot apply to food, some to society,

and some to building a family will perhaps not surprise anyone with even a passing

familiarity with the religion. Some of the timeless and universal mitsvot, though, have

their roots in the Temple or involve how ordinary Jews must relate to priests. Fleshing

out these categories will allow us to more fully portray what the religion meant by

minimal observance, and what kinds of messages it deemed essential to a proper Jewish

life.

To anticipate, these groups of mitsvot will show that a Jewish life involves

stepping outside oneself in numerous ways. In food, the Jew must eat with an awareness

of what he or she is ingesting; it is that awareness that lies at the heart of the positive

element of the regulations about eating once-living creatures. The Jew must build a

family dedicated to propagating both the population of the world as well as the ideals of

the religion, must partake of a society that creates a safe environment for the religious,

economic, and physical growth of its members, and must maintain both a relationship

with priests and a memory of the Temple and the observances that occurred there. Only
106

by discussing each of these pieces more fully will we a proper picture of a full Jewish life

come together.

Before starting on the first of our subunits, we must note slight adjustments

between this list and the one included in printed editions of Maimonides’ work. The

usual list inexplicably includes mitsvot 141 and 172, the obligations to forgive loans

during a shemittah year and to listen to a prophet, as part of his list of sixty.155 Yet

Maimonides limits the Biblical obligation to forgive loans during a shemittah year to the

time when the parallel agricultural shemittah and Jubilee are in effect, a situation that has

not occurred since the destruction of the First Temple.156 The obligation to listen to a

prophet also does not belong, since prophets do not exist in every time and place, and

Maimonides was here listing those obligations that apply anywhere and everywhere.

In addition, Maimonides’ list omits at least two mitsvot that clearly belong, nos.

146, the obligation to slaughter animals properly before eating them, and 151, the

obligation to check for the signs that particular hagavim, insects, may be eaten. Some

might argue that Maimonides excluded 146, the obligation to slaughter meat, since it is

only conditional—a vegetarian, for example, would never have to fulfill it. However,

Maimonides does count mitsvah 147, the obligation to cover the blood of certain animals

that we have slaughtered, which is at least as conditional as 146.157

Similarly, since he counted the obligation to check the signs of animals, birds, and

S. Frankel, in his more critical edition of the Sefer haMitsvot, substitutes 146 for 141;
155

he leaves 172 on the list, however, and omits 151.


156
See Laws of Shemittah and Yovel 9;2.

Maimonides assumption, Laws of Festivals 6:18, that eating meat is essential to the full
157

joy of a holiday, at least for men, may have led him to also assume that meat-eating was a
necessary part of life.
107

fish, there is no clear reason to leave out insects. We have therefore made the appropriate

substitutions, and are ready to begin the discussion.

THE ROLE OF THE PRIESTS

This section, depending on one’s perspective, serves either a minor role in our list,

as it only comprises three mitsvot, or surprises us by existing even in the absence of a

Temple. In practical terms, we can correctly say that priests were functionaries of the

Temple, and that in its absence, their special role largely ceased. True, priests are still not

allowed to become ritually impure, which prevents them from going to funerals, but by

and large Jewish priests today are undifferentiated from the rest of the community.

The mitsvot we will review in this section show that this perception errs in both

theory and practice. Priests, with or without a Temple, serve an important role in Jewish

society, one that will become more clear after we review the particular observances in

Maimonides’ list.

25) 26—The Obligation for Male Priests to Bless the Nation


Synopsis: The obligation for Jewish communal prayer to include the priests’ blessing the
nation in God’s Name.

Since this mitsvah only obligates male priests, who are required to bless the

Jewish nation on some kind of a regular basis, as we will discuss, its relevance to this list

seems at least questionable.158 Reviewing several rules of this priestly blessing, verifying

which are more and less central to the observance, will help us answer this question, at

the same time making us more aware of the mitsvah’s theological ramifications.

The priest’s washing his hands just before the blessing might seem essential to the

ceremony, especially since it is a highly visible aspect of the ceremony in the synagogue.

We might think that Jews must make an effort to hear the priests’ blessing, but that is
158

not in fact the case.


108

During the cantor’s repetition of the service, a synagogue functionary will interrupt the

cantor to advise the priests and the Levites (who wash the priests’ hands) that it is time to

go wash hands. Despite its high profile presence, however, several authorities dismiss

the need for any sort of washing if the priest had washed his hands upon arising in the

morning and been careful with them since.159 It is in deference to those opinions that no

blessing accompanies this hand-washing.

Another high profile, seemingly central, but actually incidental aspect of the

ceremony is the priests’ removing their shoes. Rather than being part of the Torah’s

vision of priestly blessings, the priests take off their shoes because of a Rabbinic worry

that a priest wearing shoes with laces might, in retying laces that had come undone, miss

his opportunity join in blessing the Jewish people. Once again, then, this rule cannot help

us understand the central focus of the obligation.160

Somewhat more relevant to our issue is the question of the kinds of

disfigurements that prevent a priest from joining the other priests in blessing the people.

Various imperfections disqualify a priest from active service in the time of the Temple,

but for the blessing, halakhah only prohibits disfigurements that will distract listeners

from the blessing itself. As a result, a priest who is dash be-iro, well-known to the

members of his city, who are familiar with his particular abnormality, may recite the
159
See, for example, Mishnah Berurah 128:20.
160
See bSotah 40a, and Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim, 128:5. Shoes that do not have
laces, therefore, should be permissible. The common custom is to take off leather shoes
even if they do not have laces, only because they look too similar to laced shoes. On
Yom Kippur, when Jews do not wear leather, priests whose footwear lacks laces indeed
do not need to remove them; priests wearing lace-up footwear, however, still do. Most
importantly, though, none of these issues go to the crux of the mitsvah, since they all
stem from a Rabbinic ordinance geared towards preventing a priest’s inadvertently failing
to fulfill his obligation.
109

blessing.161 Apparently, part of the ceremony is not only that the priests should recite the

blessing, but that listeners should be undistracted during that blessing.

Even more relevant, any priest who had not left his seat to ascend to the place

where the priests stand to issue the blessing (the dukhan) by the time the cantor reached a

particular point in the repetition of the service (Retsei) was not allowed to go up after that

point.162 That means, for example, that if a priest, for whatever reason, arrived in the

sanctuary after the cantor had passed Retsei, he could no longer join the other priests for

that day’s blessing. That law suggests a connection between the recitation of Retsei—a

prayer for God to be pleased with the Jewish people’s prayers, to accede to their

requests-- and the priests’ blessing.

Another misleading rule that obscures the true intent of the obligation is the

practice to only recite these blessings during morning prayers and the Additional prayer

recited on holidays. Rather than limiting the importance of the priestly blessing to those

services, the rule stems only from a worry about inebriation; on fast days, where the

worry does not exist, the priests would bless the people in the afternoon prayers as well.

Even only these three facts of the priestly blessing—that it requires focus by the

priests and the audience, that it is connected to Retsei, and that it should happen at all

services where inebriation is not a worry—offers a suggestion as to why Maimonides

included it in the list. The need for focus suggests that the priests are not only asking

God to bless the people, but are also making the people aware that God is blessing them.

Retsei is in some sense a summing up of the prayers to God, a final request that God

161
See bMegillah 24b and Shulhan Arukh Orah Hayyim 128:30.
162
Ibid, 128:8.
110

accept the service already expressed in the prayers. Making that the moment when the

priests start ascending to the stage means that they are responding to the cantor’s call for

God to hear the people’s prayers. As God’s representatives, the priests answer that

request by telling the congregation that God intends to bless them.

That view, in turn, tells us why it should be true of all prayer, since Jews need that

reassurance of God’s positive response each time they pray as a community. The mitsvah

may reside with individual priests, then, but it serves to make communal prayer a two-

way street, in which Jews call out to the Lord, and He, through His agents, responds.

26) 32—To Honor Priests


Synopsis: To offer priests priority in all activities, as recognition of their role as God’s
representatives in the Temple.

The mitzvah requires Jews to show honor to the male descendants of Aaron the

High Priest, although the required forms of honor are left unspecified. Examples the

Talmud gives include liftoah rishon, le-varekh rishon, ve-litol maneh yafeh, to open first

(in the reading of the Torah), to be first to bless (as in the case of a Grace After Meals

recited in a group, known as a zimmun), and to take a nice portion first (as when alms are

distributed to a group of poor people, including priests).163 Building off those examples,

we would phrase the commandment as requiring that priests should take priority

whenever there is an opportunity to honor someone by going first.

The Biblical phrasing of the mitsvah, “ve-kidashto, ki et lehem elokekha hu

makriv, and you shall sanctify him for he offers God’s sacrifices,”164 could theoretically

have meant that the honor applies only to those priests who actually offer sacrifices; it

163
See bMoed Katan 28b, based on Leviticus 21:8.
164
Leviticus 21:8.
111

would be the fact of that service that gains the priests this status. Halakhah instead

extends the honor to priests in all places and times, suggesting that the traditional reading

of the verse was that Jews must honor priests because they are members of a lineage that

offered God’s sacrifices, regardless of whether they can actually do so in the current

situation. Their right to honor, then, does not extend from their active involvement in

Temple service, but from their membership in the clan that is theoretically so

empowered.

Two other circumstances where priests retain the right to honor further prove that

it depends on lineage rather than active service. A ba`al mum, a priest who has certain

kinds of physical disfigurement, would be excluded from Temple service but not from the

honor of ve-kidashto. So, too, a priest who has committed certain sins (most prominently

murder or apostasy) would be permanently disqualified from service, even after

repenting, but would again be a candidate for honor. The honor, then, extends from the

lineage, not from the person.165

165
The issue of whether a priest can forego his honor also relates to the question of
whether the honor belongs to that particular priest, or extends to his entire clan. The
Mishnah in bGittin (59a-b) refers to the priest reading the Torah first as darkei shalom, a
practice adopted to foster peace among the Jewish people. the Rabbis of the Talmud
question why this is explained as darkei shalom, a Rabbinic concept, when it would seem
to be a de-oraita, a Torah obligation. Abbaye answers that darkei shalom prevents the
priest from allowing his teacher to read before him in public, since other people might
demand the same treatment as well. In private, a priest could forego this honor.
Reading this sugya narrowly, (as Maimonides seems to have, since he does not
mention mehilah, voluntary remission of honor) might lead to the conclusion that a priest
could only have relinquished his honor in the case of reading the Torah, and only to
someone greater than he in the area of knowledge of Torah. Arukh haShulhan, Orah
Hayyim 135 reads Rabbenu Tam as claiming that the Torah only required priests to
accept honor in a time when they could have worn bigdei kehunah, priestly garments.
Nowadays, when there is still some obligation to honor them, it is nonetheless of a lower
level, such that they are allowed to forego it if they so wish. Arukh haShulhan also
reports, and disapproves of, communities that simply required the priests to forego their
honor, to allow an ordinary Jew to be called up first.
112

Perhaps the element of this mitzvah that troubles modern sensibilities most is

arrogating rights of respect to people whose personal qualities might not warrant it.

Perhaps God wished to insure that Jews (in general, regardless of where they were in the

world) would always be able to have a tangible reminder of His presence in their midst.

The only way to insure such a diffusion of God’s representatives was to forego the

attempt to find meaningful representation, and select people arbitrarily. The system

works not because priests, in their personal qualities, actually represent God better than

the rest of the nation, but because they are the segment of society chosen to fulfill a social

need, to remind the rest of the nation of God’s constant presence and love.

27) 43—Giving the Priest Parts of Cattle Slaughtered for Eating


Synopsis: The obligation to donate certain portions of every animal slaughtered for
eating to a member of the priestly clan, male or female.

Jews do not generally observe this mitsvah at the present time, for reasons we will

discuss in a footnote,166 so we could have omitted it from this discussion. However,

Maimonides and other important medieval rabbis167 assumed that the obligation applies in

all times and places, so that it must be part of their picture of essential Judaism. Our

discussion, from his perspective, would have been practical theology; in the current

context, it will be more theoretical, although still productive.

In the case of Torah reading, common custom is to ask the priests to go outside,
so that there are no priests to be called up, rather than relying on their relinquishing their
right to the honor, and that only under pressing circumstances. In other cases, however,
such as leading the Grace After Meals, there is more of a tendency to accept their right of
foregoing, although they still must be offered the right to lead the Grace.
166
See footnote 16.

Including a Mishnah at the beginning of the tenth chapter of Hullin, Maimonides here,
167

and Tur and Shulhan Arukh in Yoreh De`ah, 61.


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Deuteronomy 18; 3 rules that three parts of all domesticated cattle that Jews

slaughter must be given to a priest, the zero`a (the right thigh), lehayayim (the two

cheeks, from the cheekbone to the chin, including the tongue), and the kevah (the maw,

one of the animal’s stomachs). This commandment is not connected to the Temple

service, as we can show both by its coming from all slaughtered animals, not just those

used for sacrifices as well as its being permissible to give to kohanot, female priests.

Even a female priest who has married a non-priest (so that she can no longer, for

example, eat terumah, the grain-tithe given to priests), she can still receive these gifts;

indeed, her non-priest husband can accept these gifts on her behalf.168

Based on that information, we would have read this mitsvah, as one more gift

Jews gifts to priests in recognition of their role as God’s representatives among the

Jewish people. Aside from running the Temple, with the various sacrifices and forms of

worship that apply there, they also serve as representatives of God in ordinary life.169

Seeing it that way, we would say that the gift from each animal “really” belonged to God,

and are given to priests as God’s representative.

Maimonides’ placing his discussion of the mitsvah in the Laws of First Fruits and

Other Gifts Given Outside the Temple fits that view, since it means that he saw this

mitsvah as an example of the general principle that Jews ought to give parts of their food

to God, or His representatives, before enjoying them themselves. Just like giving an

extra tithe from bread they bake, Jews should give God (or His appointed representative)

part of the animals they slaughter.

See bHullin 131b, Maimonides Laws of First-Fruits and Other Gifts to the Priests
168

1:11.
169
It is this aspect of their role that best explains the rules on priestly marriage.
114

Nahmanides indicates a different perspective of the mitsvah when he cites a

Midrash that sees the priests’ as having “earned” these gifts through Pinhas’ killing of

Zimri and Kozbi when they publicly flouted the laws against Jews fornicating with

Midianites.170 Seeing the gifts as some kind of lasting reward or memory for Pinhas’

courage seems to mean that the Bible wished Jews to continuingly remember Pinhas’ act,

and to view the priests as the continuity of the tradition of those who would appropriately

resist those who publicly violate the law of God.171 It would be priests as guardians of

observance, not representatives of God.

This obligation applies to all Jews descended from one of the non-Levitical tribes

of the people, but halakhah does not clearly decide whether the Levites, not priests but

also not ordinary Jews, are also required to give these gifts to a priest. The verse in the

Torah refers to the am, the nation, and the Talmud does not resolve its doubt as to
170
Commentary on the Torah), Deuteronomy 18:3.
171
Whatever the reason for the mitsvah, it would seem simple enough to observe
(although financially somewhat costly). Beginning with Rashi, however, a continuing
minority of decisors, and seemingly a majority of practitioners of Jewish law, have relied
on a statement regarding reshit ha-gez (the obligations to give the first sheep-shearings to
a priest) to clear themselves of this obligation outside of the Land of Israel. In that
discussion, bHullin 136b, R. Nahman b. Yitshak reports that in his time everyone
followed R. Ilai, who ruled that reshit ha-gez did not apply outside the Land of Israel.
Rashi there comments that the same applies to the law of giving the thigh, cheeks, and
maw.
Despite the many problems with that view, chief among them that the Talmud
never entertained that possibility when it discussed the laws of these gifts and,
furthermore, that it reported cases of rabbis giving these gifts in Babylonia, it became
general practice. Some suggested that Jews stopped giving gifts because post-Talmudic
priests cannot establish their lineage well enough to prove they have the right to levy
these gifts, but that view is generally rejected (Jews still, for example, redeem their first-
born sons from priests, although the same lineage issues should apply).
Several leniencies built into the laws of these gifts perhaps eased its falling into
disuse. First, in contrast to other gifts owed to a priest, the rest of the animal does not
become prohibited until the gift is given. In addition, the Talmud says that if no priest is
available, the owner of the animal can set aside money for the value of the special parts
and then eat them.
115

whether that includes Levites.172

At the theological level, the Talmud’s doubt seems to focus on the extent to which

the Levites need to look to the priests for certain kinds of guidance or example. If am,

nation, includes the Levites, it would mean that they, too, are obligated to treat the

priests, at least for the purposes incorporated in this gift, just like any other Jew would. If

it does not, however, the Levites are being seen by the Torah as a markedly separate

group, one that does not need to relate to the priests in order to learn the lessons of these

gifts.

That could be true regardless of which of the explanations for the mitsvah we

accept. For the view of priests as God’s representatives, the Torah might be informing

us that Levites do not need that same guidance. After all, although their Temple service

is not as central as the priests’, the Levites, too, were meant to dedicate their lives to

God’s service in various ways. It is for that reason, for example, that they did not

received a specific share in the Land of Israel, but were given 48 cities spread throughout

the other tribes. While it would have been plausible to say that they nonetheless had to

look to priests for even greater awareness of God, it is also plausible that they would not.

So, too, if Pinhas earned these gifts for the priests by killing Zimri for his public

willingness to defend God’s standards, the Levites could plausibly excuse themselves, as

they had already performed a similar service at the sin of the Golden Calf.

Role of the Priests—Concluding Comments

In this section, we have seen the Torah outline three positive obligations that

establish a continuing presence for priests in Jewish lives, two of which have fallen into

bHullin 131b; Shulhan Arukh, Yoreh De`ah 61:23 codifies the doubt, ruling that
172

Levites need not give these parts to the priest, since in matters of monetary doubt the
person trying to levy money must prove his point.
116

disuse in many segments of the Jewish community. Sephardic Jews, and all Jews in

Israel, still hear priests’ blessings on a regular basis. In those societies, priests are singled

out daily as those through whom God has chosen to express the special connection

between Him and the Jewish people.

The narrow rules of honoring priests are more frequently observed. They are

called up to the Torah first, and, in many Jewish homes, will be asked to lead the Grace

After Meals when enough people are present for a zimmun. The broader ramifications of

the mitzvah, to honor priests more generally, finds little expression in practice, however.

Finally, the third mitzvah, as we just discussed, is either ignored or avoided in various

ways.

At the theological level, though, studying this issue makes us aware of a Biblical

desideratum for regular Jews as well as for priests. The specific obligations combine to

remind regular Jews that the Bible assumed a need to have a regular relationship with

human beings who could, in the eyes of the beholder, represent God. It was not enough,

in the Biblical and halakhic worldview, to discipline oneself towards God; part of that

discipline had to involve relating to others as human stand-ins for the Divine.

The obligations also indicate that priests need to look at themselves differently

from other Jews. Rather than being a reminder of a gloried past, a way to get the first

chance to read the Torah portion, or an encumbrance in the way of attending funerals and

marrying certain women, the priesthood in our reading becomes a continuing status and

standing among the people. It is not only when they are called up to the Torah, or to the

stage to bless the people, that priests serve a specific national purpose; throughout their

day and their lives, ideally, priests have a role to play in focusing the attention of the
117

Jewish people on their relationship with God.173

ROOTS IN THE TEMPLE

In their ordinary observance, the three mitsvot we have grouped in this section--

54, 73, and 94, the obligations to be happy on the holidays, to confess sins, and to fulfill

promises—have little in common. We might have been tempted, in fact, to group them in

other of this work’s categories, such as by including simhat ha-regel, happiness on the

holidays, with the other mitsvot regarding the holidays, repentance with mitsvot related to

God, and fulfilling one's words, whether in terms of God or not, to mitsvot vital to

running a society.

Maimonides's placement of these mitsvot in his work shows that he chose to

emphasize their connection to the Temple rather than to the other categories we just

suggested. After reviewing the three obligations, we will be able to understand their

implicit lessons about the Temple and its continuing presence in Jewish life more fully.

28) 54--To Be Happy On the Three Major Holidays


Synopsis: The obligation to, three times a year, physically celebrate God’s goodness to
people.

173
Readers may think that the role outlined here for priests has been taken over, at least
for many Jews, by rabbis and scholars of Torah. It is to them, perhaps, that many Jews
have transferred the respect and the concomitant expectations of Godliness that were
originally accorded to priests. There is, of course, an obligation to respect rabbis, but not
in the same way or for the same reason as the honor given to priests.
Scholars garner respect by their scholarship or wisdom, and generally only retain
it if their personal character matches their wisdom. This has the advantage of insuring
that the respect is earned rather than born into, but can lead to the impression that God
can be approached only by those talented intellectually or textually.
Priests are more ordinary in their talents, and project more of an image of the
universality of worshipping God. Presumably, priests had no higher a percentage of
smart people than did the rest of the nation. Going to a local priest with parts of one’s
slaughtered animal, hearing a blessing from him, or giving him honor, stressed, each
time, that God could be served by a wide variety of people, of widely varying talents and
interests.
118

Maimonides records this mitsvah as the third of the sacrificial commandments

connected to the holidays, despite its applying independently of any actual sacrifice. The

previous two mitsvot were the obligations to mark one's appearance at the Temple by

offering a hagigah and an olat re-`iyah, a celebratory sacrifice as well as an offering

burnt completely for God. Only men were required to bring these two offerings, but all

adult Jews had to also offer another, third, sacrifice. Like the hagigah, this was a

shelamim, meaning that it was shared among the altar, the priests, and the person who

brought the sacrifice (who could share his portion with friends and family as well).

Originally, then, the mitsvah of simhah, of joy, on the holidays, could only be

fulfilled by eating a sacrifice in the Temple. As the Talmud says, 174 in the time of the

Temple, there was no simhah other than eating the meat of this sacrifice. In the absence

of a Temple, one view would see Jews as forced to find completely different methods of

achieving joy. In the Sefer haMitsvot, for example, Maimonides follows the simplest

reading of the Talmudic text in only mentioning drinking wine as a contemporary avenue

for men to find holiday joy.

In the Code, however, Maimonides surprisingly (and without apparent textual

support) adds meat to the list of ways in which men can create the desired joy even post-

Temple.175 He thus assumes that eating meat itself leads to some kind of joy; the Talmud

only wanted to point out that meat-eating today does not fully recapture the eating of the

sacrifice in the Temple.

Women’s relationship to this mitsvah seems to be necessarily different from what

it was in the times of the Temple, even according to Maimonides. While men might be

174
bPesahim 109a.
175
Laws of Festivals 6;18.
119

able to experience some of that joy by eating meat, Maimonides (and the Talmud)

assumes that meat-eating affects women differently from men. For women, therefore, the

Talmud prescribes other forms of joy, giving the specific example of purchasing new

clothing. Maimonides does not mean that Jewish law requires women to buy new

clothing for a holiday; his statement records his, and the Talmud’s, understands of what

would bring the joy the holiday seeks.

Certainly there is room here for personal variation, but the categories point us in

the direction of the broader experience being sought. For women, a new dress was

physically pleasurable—there is a physical feel to new clothing that gets lost over time.

For men, in Maimonides’ time anyway, eating red meat was an unusual physically

pleasurable experience. Combining the two, Maimonides’ seems to have read the

Talmud as meaning that the joy of a holiday involves engaging in some kind of permitted

physical pleasure that was not an ordinary feature of one’s life.

In Temple times, that physical experience consisted of being at the Temple and

eating meat there “with” God. Post-Temple, each Jew has to find a way to replicate that

experience to the best of their abilities, to find another way to physically enjoy the

holiday, not just spiritually or intellectually.

The importance of physical enjoyment as the proper method of achieving holiday

joy adds another element to our understanding of the role of the holidays generally, that

of providing physical joy. Some might see that as a concession to human needs, such as

Sefer haHinukh’s suggestion that God ordained holidays to provide a useful outlet for the

necessary human need to be happy.176

176
Mitsvah 488.
120

In a similar vein, Maimonides noted that holidays foster good relations among the

members of a nation (celebrating together gives a sense of unity and common purpose),

as well as helping inculcate certain ideas and ideals in the citizens.177 Both of these rabbis

seem to assume that if humans had no inherent need of celebration (or the national unity

such a celebration creates), God might not have ordained the holidays at all.

Halakhah’s emphasis on the physical aspects of the celebration, though, suggests

an alternative to the meanings offered until now. Like in the mitsvot of relating to priests,

the Torah might have wanted Jews to relate to God in physical ways as well as spiritual

or intellectual ones. That might be why the Torah chose to obligate Jews to have a

Temple at all, a stunning physical structure organized to give a sense of the tangible

presence of God. Particularly when we recognize that many people are not capable of

focusing on the intellectual or spiritual on a regular basis, we could view the Temple and

its service as a way to help those who lived physical lives come as close as possible to

physically meeting God, a completely nonphysical Being.

Moving to the simhah sacrifice, the joy of the holiday can also serve to help a Jew

physically celebrate the bounties of his life, both historical and agricultural, with God.178

With the loss of the Temple, the challenge of celebrating with God became greater, as

Jews no longer had a building that they could identify as containing God’s presence any

more than any other. The solution offered by the Talmud was to increase one’s physical

awareness of God on the holidays, to create a physically pleasurable experience that the

Jew could then point towards God.

Guide for the Perplexed III: 43.


177

Rabbi Joshua Berman has suggested that the shelamim sacrifice in general was a way
178

for a Jew to eat a meal “with” God, an idea that dovetails with this one.
121

Reminding ourselves that Maimonides viewed joy of the holiday in its original

light showed us more about the mitsvah than we might otherwise have realized. Rather

than just being a question of being happy on these days, the mitsvah is to use these

holidays as times to use all of one’s senses, particularly the physical—sometimes viewed

as the most removed from God-- to celebrate the bounties of life with the Creator Who

provided them. The original model of that joy was the Temple, where the physical and

spiritual were closely linked. Post-Temple Jews have to recreate that linkage as best they

can, each in whatever way fits him or her most closely.

29)73—Verbally Articulating Sin


Synopsis: The obligation to repent for sins committed and, as part of that repentance, to
articulate one’s recognition, remorse, and resolve not to repeat that sin.

Like the obligation of holiday joy, the requirement to verbally articulate one’s

sins has its roots in the Temple, where such articulation was required as part of offering

the sacrifice meant to atone for the sin. As a necessary part of repentance, however, vidui

(as this verbal articulation is called in Hebrew) exists completely independent of sacrifice

as well. Trying to understand Maimonides’ focus on vidui, the articulation of the sin, as

well as his placing it in the context of sacrifice, will help us more fully understand its role

in a Jewish life.

Atonement comes at the end of repentance, with vidui being the final step of one

and the beginning of the other.179 The sinner is required to verbally address God, to admit
179
Vidui does not always, or even usually, effectuate complete atonement. The Talmud,
bYoma 86a, defines four types of atonement, for different levels of sin. The atonement for
neglecting to fulfill a positive commandment, unless there are other exacerbating factors,
comes purely from sincere repentance and vidui. This supports our general assumption
that positive commandments are what lead a Jew to a closer relationship with God.
While they are obligatory, all that needs to happen to make up for a failure to fulfill one
of these commandments is sincere regret. In contrast, violating prohibitions—which set a
minimum level of behavior for the Jew, not bring him to higher realms—require greater
efforts to atone.
122

his sins, express regret for them, and undertake not to repeat them in the future. That

requirement, Maimonides takes pains to emphasize, applies to all sins, and in all places,

meaning that this aspect of a Jewish religious life is independent of the Temple and of the

Land of Israel.

Maimonides’ emphasis on the last of the several steps of repentance piqued the

interest of his rabbinic readers. Some decided that Maimonides did not see repentance

itself as an obligation, just that one who repented needed to articulate that repentance

verbally.180 That would mean that God never ordered sinners to repair their relationship

with Him, He merely told them how to do so when the spirit so moved them. Other

authorities clearly asserted a general obligation to repent as soon as one is able, 181 and

many of Maimonides’ readers assumed that was his opinion as well.

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchick pointed out that the heading for the Laws of

Repentance, where Maimonides lists the commandments he will discuss in that set of

laws, defines the mitsvah as being that the sinner repent from his sin and confess. That

Violating a simple prohibition, such as eating pig, means that the sinner cannot
achieve full atonement until Yom Kippur. More serious sins, such as those for which the
punishment is death or karet, will need repentance (with vidui), Yom Kippur, and
yisurim, moments of suffering, to fully erase the sin. Last, those who desecrate the Name
of God only achieve full atonement when they do all of the above and maintain their
penitent state until death. Violating a simple prohibition, such as eating pig, means that
the sinner cannot achieve full atonement until Yom Kippur. More serious sins, such as
those for which the punishment is death or karet, will need repentance (with vidui), Yom
Kippur, and yisurim, moments of suffering, to fully erase the sin. Last, those who
desecrate the Name of God only achieve full atonement when they do all of the above
and maintain their penitent state until death.
180
Minhat Hinukh, Mitsvah 364.
181
For example, the thirteenth century R. Yonah Gerondi in the first section of his Gates
of Repentance.
123

locution asserts a mitsvah to repent, leaving the question as to why Maimonides focused

so much on vidui in the text of the Code.

Many have answered that question in the context of the Mishneh Torah itself and

Maimonides’ self-imposed rules for how he codified laws;182 the presentation in the Sefer

haMitsvot suggests another element to the answer. Maimonides spends more time on this

mitsvah than most others, and the bulk of his discussion involves proving that vidui

applies to situations other than sacrifices and other than just in the Land of Israel. His

concern, then, seems to have been emphasizing the broad applicability of vidui rather

than separating it from the process of teshuvah. In other words, Maimonides might have

stressed vidui not because it was the only part that was obligatory, but because it was the

only element of the process that readers might not have realized was absolutely

necessary.

Following that line of reasoning, we see how Maimonides wished to connect

repentance in general to repentance in the Temple. Vidui was unequivocally central to

the atonement achieved in the Temple, but less so outside of the Temple. Maimonides’

focus on vidui emphasized to Jews that the atonement achieved by repentance, by sincere

recognition, remorse, and renewed intention to live up to one’s spiritual responsibilities,

required verbal articulation just as much as the atonement found in the Temple.

Saying the words of vidui, Maimonides was signaling, is not just a magic formula

uttered in the Temple, it is a necessary part of any repentance process. Although God

182
Rabbi Soloveitchick, for example, claims that in the Mishneh Torah, Maimonides
describes the ma`aseh hamitsvah, the act of a mitsvah, which, for mitsvot that happen
primarily internally, can differ from the kiyum hamitsvah, from the central intention of
the mitsvah. Similarly, the act of sitting shiva does not exhaust the obligation of
mourning, which necessarily involves internal feelings. Since there is no other external
act of repentance, Maimonides focused on the vidui.
124

knows human thoughts and can recognize the sincerity of one’s repentance even without

verbal articulation,183 Maimonides stresses vidui to remind readers that the verbal

articulation is necessary for completing the act of repentance.184

The immediate opprobrium of sin ends, possibly, even without verbal

articulation, but atonement seeks to wipe away the past, to expunge the record of one’s

sins. People can reject their past simply by living differently in the future, but to wipe

away the past requires dredging it up, verbally and articulately, and then laying it to

permanent rest. Psychologists, proponents of the talking cure, have recognized this truth

for over a century; the requirement of vidui shows that halakhah realized it long ago.

30) 94—To Fulfill That Which One Has Accepted Upon Himself
Synopsis: The obligation to be true to one’s word, as an outgrowth of that obligation
regarding commitments to the Temple.

Maimonides here gives broader ethical ramifications to what could easily have

been a narrow, technical mitsvah. The relevant Biblical verses warn Jews to fulfill any

nedarim, vows, they may take.185 In Numbers, the Torah says, ke-khol hayotsei mi-piv

ya`aseh, he should act according to whatever comes out of his mouth, while in

Deuteronomy the verse says motsa sefatekha tishmor, that which comes out of your lips

you must keep. Maimonides takes these verses to indicate a general obligation to fulfill

183
As Maimonides himself assumes in Laws of Repentance 2; 2.
184
Minhat Hinukh points out that the Talmud assumes that one can achieve partial
atonement even without vidui. The Talmud validates a betrothal that was explicitly
conditioned on the man’s being a tsaddik, a wholly righteous man, since even an evildoer
may have repented in his thoughts. Even completely internal teshuvah, then, takes
enough effect to change the person’s status from evildoer to tsaddik; it is only full
atonement that requires vidui.
185
Numbers 30:3 and Deuteronomy 23:24.
125

whatever a Jew accepts upon him or her self, whether a sacrifice, an oath, or even just a

promise to give charity.

While he does not include all verbal commitments in the Biblical obligation,186 the

categories just mentioned apply fairly broadly. A verbal declaration of intent to offer a

particular animal as a sacrifice or to donate some object to the Temple creates a Biblical

obligation to follow through. A promise to give charity works the same way- simply

committing verbally to do so creates this obligation.

Nahmanides objects to two elements of Maimonides’ presentation, leading to a

significantly different view of the mitsvah. First, he thinks the two verses represent

separate mitsvot, with the first applying to general promises or oaths, while the second

only applies to statements that commit objects or money to the Temple and its properties.

Nahmanides’ insistence on separating the two verses requires further comment,

particularly in light of his statement at the beginning of his glosses to the work that he

does not necessarily accept the number 613 as the Talmud’s absolute assertion about the
186
Halakhah divides oaths into two categories, neder and shevu`ah. The difference
between the two is unimportant for our purposes, but shevu`ah refers to a shevu`at bitui, a
promise to actively perform or to refrain from a certain action. One could, for example,
declare one’s intention to eat a certain food the next day (or to refrain from that food) and
create a de-oraita obligation to do so. As long as the verbal declaration fit the form of a
shevu`at bitui—meaning it had the word shevu`ah or other similar words, as well as a
direct mention of God’s Name, or sufficiently close references to the Creator—the verses
mentioned above tell us that that person is now as obligated to fulfill his promise.
Maimonides delineates two kinds of nedarim at the beginning of Laws of
Nedarim, those in which the person promises something to God or the Temple (a
sacrifice or a donation that will support the upkeep of the House) and those, more
common, ones where the person manufactures a personal prohibition of a certain item or
act. There, too, the prohibition will take on both negative (Mitsvot Lo Ta`aseh 157) and
positive de-oraita status. In contrast to shevu`ot, Maimonides does not require a
particular terminology for a statement to qualify as a neder; even without either in the
word neder or mention of a Divine Name, the statement “Apples will always be
prohibited to me,” qualifies as a neder, and the person will have to fulfill that
declaration.
126

number of commandments found in the Torah. Here, the question of whether these were

the same mitsvah or not was worth arguing, I would suggest, because it goes to the

conceptual question of the relationship between the two topics.

For Maimonides, keeping promises made in the context of the Temple led to the

general obligation to fulfill commitments.187 Nahmanides, by distinguishing promises

made to the Temple from those made in general, sees them as separate issues. For him,

the timeless and universal obligation to fulfill vows did not have its roots in the

observances of the Temple.

Nahmanides raises a more substantive point when he claims that oaths require a

certain verbal form to become binding. Where Maimonides had said that a simple

declaration of prohibition creates an obligation, Nahmanides requires specific language,

much as had been the case with other oaths. For Maimonides, a neder consists of a

decision to treat something as prohibited; for Nahmanides, it depends on a more formal

declaration.

Maimonides’s view of neder matches his statement that the Torah really means to

obligate Jews to fulfill all the commitments they make. It is not primarily a technical

issue of certain kinds of declarations but the desire, originating in a Temple context, that

Jews keep their word, adhering to commitments they undertake.

Mitsvot of the Temple—A Summary

The three mitsvot with their roots in the Temple do not serve so much to remind

Jews of the Temple on a regular basis, as we had seen in the case of mitsvot relating to

Maimonides apparently saw the obligation to keep one’s word generally as an


187

outgrowth of keeping it in a Temple context, since he records the mitsvah in a section of


the Sefer haMitsvot that refers to obligations in the Temple. If so, the Torah’s concern
with fulfilling one’s word when it comes to commitments to the Temple teaches about the
Jew’s obligation to keep his word generally.
127

priests. Rather, they show that the rules of how to act within the Temple taught Jews

central elements of a well-lived Jewish life—experiencing and celebrating with God

tangibly on the holidays, articulating remorse for sin, and being true to one’s word—even

independent of its existence.

The Temple, even in this brief acquaintance with it, turns out to have been more

than a place to offer animal sacrifice, it was a place where an ideal life was lived, with

ramifications that went beyond the narrow confines of that building. The loss of the

Temple means the loss of the specific building, but also of the place where those lessons

could be learned in their purest and most original expression.


128

MITSVOT OF FOOD

31)146, 147, 149, 150, 151, 152—Slaughtering Animals, Covering the Blood,
Determining the Signs of Animals, Birds, and Fish
Synopsis: The obligation for a Jew to verify beforehand that the once-living creatures
that he or she eats meet the qualifications the Torah established for permissibility.

Although these mitsvot are not directly related to each other, they are all

connected to the preparation of once-live food for eating. The simplest view of them

equates them to the prohibitions, saying that these mitsvot are meant to safeguard a Jew’s

food intake to make sure it includes only certain foods and not others. 188 Maimonides’

formulation of the positive commandment, however, leads us in a different direction, one

that does not involve detailed analysis of the laws involved.

The first of these mitsvot is fairly straightforward, that a Jew must slaughter those

animals he wishes to eat. That slaughter entails specific rules of where on the animal the

act of killing has to take place, the action that must be involved in the killing, and the

various ways in which the killing may be ruled invalid, rendering the animal

impermissible.

Those rules do not clear explain why such killing is necessary. They may be there

to insure that the killing of the animal takes place with a minimum of pain or guarantees

that the maximum possible amount of blood is removed form the animal in death, but

there may be some other value as well. Here, we would just note that the Torah’s rules

force the killing of animals to be handled at close range, with the animal under the

person’s control (since jerking or moving will invalidate the act), a first example of the

Torah’s interest in human attention when using animals for food.


188
See, for example, Sefer haHinukh, Mitsvah 153, who sees the obligation to check the
signs of animals as stemming directly from the obligation not to eat the other kinds of
animals. In his view, in other words, the Torah would separately institute a positive
mitsvah to safeguard a prohibition.
129

The second mitsvah demands that one who slaughters a non-cattle animal, such as

a deer or a bird, cover the blood after the slaughter. Nowadays, ordinary Jews generally

do not observe this mitzvah, since people no longer slaughter their own animals. As a

theoretical reality, though, the mitzvah seems oriented to making Jews aware of the blood

involved in killing the animal, and treating it appropriately.

Phrasing the obligation in terms of awareness of the event explains why the rule

only applies to wild animals and birds; slaughtering a domesticated animal, or a store-

bought one, always engages the awareness of the person killing the animal. Killing

captured animals, where no prior relationship existed, might become a thoughtless act,

since the person slaughtering the animal might have no engagement in the blood that is

being spilled.

As we talk about the Torah insisting on awareness in performing certain acts, we

should pause to differentiate between disapproval and a concern with thoughtfulness.

The Torah ordering Jews to be fully aware of what they are doing as they kill animals

does not mean the Torah wished to discouraged such killing; it just stresses that such acts

should not occur carelessly or thoughtfully. It can be appropriate to kill animals for food

in the Torah’s view, and yet only be appropriate if the proper care and attention is given

to the act. This would be in contrast to plant life, where the Torah has no particular stake

in thoughtful harvesting.189

The other mitsvot in this group are those that demand that Jews determine which

types of animals, birds, insects, and fish should be considered kosher.190 As Maimonides

Although, even there, the rules of the gifts, to the priest, Levites, and poor, that must
189

given during the harvest complicate the matter somewhat.


190
The Biblical discussion occurs first in Leviticus 11, with the Mishnah in Hullin 59a
elaborating upon it, as further explained in the Talmudic discussion of that Mishnah.
130

notes, for each of the four categories, animals, birds, insects, and fish, the Torah

specifically names some prohibited and permitted examples. For the permitted ones, the

Torah says, “these you shall eat,” a phrasing Maimonides, following the Sifri, the

tannaitic collection of halakhic interpretations of the Torah, identifies as a separate

positive commandment.

In that reading of the Sifri, aside from avoiding animals that lack the indicators of

permissibility, we are positively enjoined to deliberate about various species of animals,

to determine which have the indicators of permissibility. This deliberation, however, is

in the context of eating-- going to a zoo or a wildlife preserve and determining which of

those species were permissible (even though there was no way to eat them), would not

constitute a fulfillment of the mitsvah.

Sefer haHinukh191 notes that eating meat from an animal without determining

whether it has the proper signs neglects this positive commandment even if the animal

later turns out to have been of a kosher species. In this case, the prohibition was not

transgressed, but the positive commandment, to be cognizant of what one eats, was

neglected. It is, then, a commandment that is either fulfilled or not by the time the food

enters the mouth, whereas the prohibition depends completely on the act of eating.

Sefer haHinukh comments that he only included this mitsvah because he had

decided to follow Maimonides's list of the mitsvot, but that he in fact agrees with

While the Torah provides signs for the permissibility of animals—those that chew their
cud and have cloven hoofs— it does not give a parallel list for birds, simply listing names
of some that are permissible and some that are not. The Rabbis, based on the Torah’s
lists, derived principles for determining the permissibility of birds, although the general
preference is to eat only those birds about which there was a tradition of permissibility.
The Torah defines certain physical characteristics of insects’ legs and wings that would
make them permissible. Fish need to have fins and scales.
191
Mitsvah 153.
131

Nahmanides, who does not count this mitsvah for the reason that we have mentioned

before, that the Talmud will refer to an act as involving both an aseh and a lo ta`aseh, a

positive act and a prohibition, as a bookkeeping issue, allowing for proper comparison

among mitsvot as to which takes various kinds of precedence. Maimonides sees it as

adding a new dimension.

For Nahmanides and those who agree with him, the Bible ordains remarkably few

positive commandments regarding food hat apply to Jews in all times and places. While

there is an obligation to say Birkat haMazon, we have already seen that that has more to

do with reminding oneself of God’s presence in the world than with the actual experience

of food. Food might cause religious damage to a person, according to Nahmanides, and

was therefore guarded by various prohibitions, but outside of the Temple bore little

positive religious value.

Maimonides might have agreed regarding most food, but when it came to the

higher life forms whose eating required a specific act of killing, the mitsvot Maimonides

includes point towards a concern with mindfulness around the eating of those species.

Aside from reminding Jews that food comes from God, as in birkat haMazon, the mitsvot

focus attention on the use of animal life for food purposes. The killing of birds and

animals, higher life forms than fish and insects, require an additional level of

mindfulness, since the actual killing already involves procedures of mitsvah.192

The same would apply to the rules about the kinds of animals to eat. While the

This follows the lines of a Midrash Rabbah that Maimonides quotes in Guide III:26. In
192

paraphrase, the Midrash says, "And what does God care if we slaughter an animal from
the front of the neck or the back? Say, rather, that the mitsvot were only given to purify
human beings." Some important element of the mitsvah of slaughter, the Midrash
implies, might have been fulfilled even if the obligation had been expressed differently,
such as from the back of the neck.
132

specific signs that create a prohibition against eating some animals may indeed inform us

as to the animals that the Bible viewed as fit for human consumption, the commandment

to check the animals’ signs seems more focused on making a Jew aware of his eating than

on insuring that he eats only the right food.

That the Torah called for such awareness only in the case of once-living creatures

seems connected to the meaningful similarity between higher life forms and animals. In

line with that similarity, such life should not be casually brought to an end, nor should

such animals be casually used for human beings’ purposes. In demanding that Jews pay

attention to which types of animals they are allowed to use, the Torah tries to insure that

animals killed to support human life are at least not destroyed callously or unthinkingly.

BUILDING A SOCIETY

The next, and next to last, group of mitsvot in Maimonides’s list are those related

to building a proper Jewish society. These obligations include following the majority

when a debate arises among scholars, removing sources of danger from public (and

private) places, giving charity, loving other Jews, loving converts, insuring the propriety

of weights and measures, honoring Torah scholars, and honoring and fearing parents.

Even before we review them in greater detail, the list already shows the outline of

the society the Torah commands Jews to develop. It is a society that has a decision-

making process—majority rules-- to avoid paralysis on contentious issues. It works to

insure the physical safety of its citizens, provides at least some safety net for the less

fortunate, promotes good social bonding throughout all segments of society, seeks

financial justice in the dealings of its members, and establishes a social hierarchy that

places the study of Torah at the center of the social value system. After fleshing out each
133

of these obligations, we will be able to summarize the social vision of these mitsvot

somewhat more fully.

32)175—Following the Majority


Synopsis: To follow the majority of those authorized to decide various issues of Jewish
practice.

In a democratic society, this mitsvah seems almost superfluous; at best, we might

see it as an example of the Torah being ahead of the curve in anticipating institutions that

people were eventually going to come up with on their own. The halakhic version of

majority rules, however, goes farther than the ordinary use of the principle, for most

people today uncomfortably farther.

The easiest part of the mitsvah to swallow is its import for the technical

experience of deciding a dispute; that majority rules in such cases corresponds well with

modern intuitions of judgment. Yet the mitsvah also applies to all issues of Biblical and

legal interpretation, an even broader category than those covered by the United

States Supreme Court.

As Maimonides lays it out, in the Sefer haMitsvot and in the Mishneh Torah, in

the time of the Sanhedrin, all disputes— including those of how to interpret Torah law—

were resolved by some court, if only by the Sanhedrin as a court of last resort. Although

there were several layers before reaching the top, lasting disputes would nonetheless be

resolved, if necessary by the highest court.

The purview of these questions could be any issue of Jewish law, which our

investigation even just of positive mitsvot (particularly the more philosophical ones) has

shown to cover quite a lot of how to live one’s life. Maimonides’ vision of the Sanhedrin

would translate into a more unified view of what Judaism means than currently reigns.
134

On fundamental questions of law and practice—and, for the philosophical mitsvot, of

belief or life-path—Maimonides would have expected the Sanhedrin to weigh in with the

authoritative interpretation of the system.

A unified system, we hasten to add, does not mean monochromatic. Maimonides

might easily have meant that the Sanhedrin would lay out the parameters of a reasonable

Jewish life, parameters broad enough to include people of differing talents, interests, and

foci in their service of God.193 They might codify, for example, the obligation to love

God, but recognize a multitude of appropriate ways of doing so; the Sanhedrin would not

be there to impose a rigid vision of the system, but it would define the outer limits of

acceptability.

Some will find disconcerting the idea of a central body, however large and wise,

making decisions about the nature of that society as a whole. In the U. S., the Supreme

Court is limited in its purview in many ways; Justice Rehnquist’s belief in states’ rights

has expanded the range of issues where the Supreme Court or some of its members would

feel powerless to express a legally meaningful opinion.

Making matters worse, Maimonides assumes this mitsvah applies in all times and

places, meaning that he saw it as still somehow relevant today. From his perspective,

apparently, questions that arise among Jews even today should be brought before a group

of competent authorities, with the majority ruling the decision. Jews do not generally

Prof. Isadore Twersky, a”h, often noted Maimonides’ repeated use of the term ke-fi
193

koho, according to his abilities,—over twenty times in the Mishneh Torah. As he read it,
that was how Maimonides signaled room in halakhah for personal differences of talent,
capability, and interests in one’s worship of God.
135

follow that view today, except in resolving specific disputes, relying on several

justifications to permit following a minority view.194

As we think about whether the ideal Maimonides envisioned could work in

practice, we realize that it would require the leaders to carefully distinguish the required

from the recommended, law from custom, religious obligation from societal practice.

Not every good idea would be fodder for the majority of rabbinic scholars to impose as

law, and the Sanhedrin—or whatever group of rabbis was serving as the deciding body--

would need to be careful to maintain the distinction.

On the other side, it would require laypeople to submit to the judgment of a group

of rabbis on central and important life issues. To the extent that a majority of that

rabbinic body agreed that Jewish law required or prohibited some course of action, the

Jewish community as a whole would be obligated to follow their view. That scenario

alone tests the limits of the imagination, offering a stark example of where current

realities sit far from the ideal Jewish society, at least as understood by Maimonides. 195
194
Sefer haHinukh, mitsvah 78, points out that the question of following the majority
only applies to scholars of equal stature and rank. Minhat Hinukh notes that the Talmud
suggests that Beit Shammai were allowed to ignore the rulings of Beit Hillel because
they, Beit Shammai, were greater scholars. One way to avoid being forced to follow the
majority, then, is to claim that one is following scholars of greater stature, who therefore
need not be bound by the majority of those around them.
Minhat Hinukh also notes that some only apply this rule when the scholars in
question have fully debated their views in person. Just reading various writings and
tabulating the positions taken by scholars operating independently is not enough to
develop a majority. For our purposes, unless a body of scholars of the highest stature has
fully argued a point, there is not yet an obligation to follow the majority view.
195
Surprisingly, the presentation in the text may have underplayed how Maimonides
would have seen this mitsvah implemented. In the next mitsvah, Maimonides sees an
obligation “to appoint judges and officers who will force us (he and his Jewish audience)
to perform the mitsvot of the Torah, and return those who are straying from the true path
against their will, and command us to do good and return from evil,” and so on. In
Maimonides’ vision, religion, or at least public adherence to certain religious norms, was
imposed and enforced from the top down, another difficult concept in the current political
136

33)184—Building a Fence for Roofs, Removing Public Dangers


Synopsis: The obligation, narrowly, to erect a fence around rooftops, expanded by
tradition to include requiring all Jews to insure that they are not the source of an
unguarded public danger.

We might assume that the mitsvah of building a fence, what the Torah calls a

ma`akeh,196 is limited to that simple act, placing fences around certain kinds of roofs.

The broader application of the mitsvah, however, focuses our attention on a more general

issue, the requirement in halakhah for Jews to insure that they are not the cause of public

dangers.

On the narrow issue of fence-building, several rules show that it was a mitsvah

directed at private Jews in their own homes. The basic obligation is to erect a fence that

rises at least 36-40 inches197 from the roof of any house that is at least that tall, and that

encompasses an area of at least 36-64 square feet.198 The fence must be able to hold a

person’s weight, meaning that it present an actual barrier to falling, not just a reminder to

be careful.

Only structures meant for living qualify as houses for the purposes of the mitsvah.

For that reason, Maimonides199 exempts storehouses and barns, although other authorities

ruled that these spaces were also obligated to bear a roof-fence.200

atmosphere.
196
Deuteronomy 22:8.

The fence must be ten tefahim high; a tefah is currently assumed to be between 3.6-4
197

inches.

The Talmud speaks of four amot by four amot. An amah is somewhere between 18
198

and 24 inches, so four amot is 6-8 feet, leading to an area of 36-64 square feet.
199
Laws of Murder and Safeguarding the Soul 11:1.
200
See Kessef Mishneh ad loc.
137

The Talmud infers from the verse’s reference to your roof that communal spaces,

such as synagogues and study halls, are exempt.201 Rashi explains that these places do

not belong to anyone, since any Jews (from anywhere) have the general right to use it.

That means that ma`akeh requires a specific owner on whom to place the obligation.

Since halakhah viewed a synagogue as a place that belongs to the Jewish people as a

whole rather than a partnership of its members, it had no specific owners upon whom the

obligation could devolve.

Reading the Biblical text alone would suggest that we have exhausted its legal

implications. Several sources, however, showed Maimonides that the issue of removing

all dangers from Jews’ dwelling places was the real intent of the mitsvah, leading him to

define it that way in the Sefer haMitsvot. 202 Among them was a statement in the Sifre

that led Maimonides to expand the mitsvah to also obligate a Jew to put up a protective

201
bHullin 136a, using the word gagekha, in Deuteronomy 22:8. Maimonides explains
that these places, too, were not made for living, but that does not explain the inference
from gagekha. It was also factually untrue for at least some places in medieval and
modern Europe where the poor often spent winter nights in a local synagogue or study
hall.
202
The Talmud and the Sifre cite the words ve-lo tasim damim be-vetekha, you shall not
put blood in your houses, which would see these acts as violations of a prohibition.
Maimonides, however, refers to a person who fails to take care of such matters as having
neglected an `aseh. One possibility, based on the Sifre closing its discussion by saying
that ve-asita ma`akeh was an aseh, and ve-lo tasim damim was a lo ta`aseh. Maimonides
may have understood that summary statement as indicating that the two obligations are
coterminus, that all that is included in one is included in the other.
Others note that Maimonides cites a new verse, hishamer lekha u-shemor
nafshekha be careful and guard your soul, in articulating this obligation, and suggest that
Maimonides may have meant that as the source of the `aseh. However, Maimonides
never offers it as a new aseh, and it is not clear that it creates the obligation. I suspect
that this verse (and Talmud’s use of it in a story in Berakhot 32b where a Roman general
uses it to chastise a Jew for endangering himself by not answering the general’s greeting)
expanded Maimonides’s understanding of the prohibition of ve-lo tasim damim, which in
turn expanded the meaning of ma`akeh.
138

barrier around any place that a person can fall from and be killed. Then, perhaps because

of a Talmudic statement that sees the verse as asserting an obligation not to raise an evil

dog or own a shaky ladder,203 Maimonides requires removing any dangers that could lead

to loss of life.204

The ma`akeh, in this reading, become an example of a general concern of the

Torah, that each Jew, insure that his private domain is free of dangers to people’s life.

Regardless of whether those people had the technical right to be in that place or not, the

Torah wanted to avoid one Jew losing his life because of the dangers another Jew chose

to harbor in his private home. Any such dangers, the Torah is telling us, become the

obligation of that Jew to cordon off, so that other people are not affected by his insistence

on owning dangerous items or places.

203
bKetubbot 41b. Maimonides does not refer directly to that source.
204
Laws of Murder and Safeguarding Oneself 11;4.
139

34)195 & 197—To Give Charity and To Lend Money to the Poor
Synopsis: The obligation for all Jews to participate in insuring the economic well-being
of all members of society, including those non- Jews who join as associate members.

We may find it obvious that charity sits at the bedrock of a well-run society, but

the particular parameters that halakhah sets up for it are nonetheless revealing.205 All

Jews are required to give charity, such that even one being supported by others must give

at least some minimal amount. There are also established priorities for charity: relatives

come first, neighbors (or the poor of one’s city) next, and those who live far away only

after that. The poor of the Land of Israel are an exception, in that they have a clearer

right to charity funds than the general poor.

Before discussing other relevant issues, let us note what these rules alone say

about the Torah’s ideal for a charitable society. First, all members of society, even those

forced to accept help for their own sustenance, must care about others’ needs in addition

to their own. Second, halakhah assumes that charity begins at home, with those closest

to a person taking priority on that person’s charitable giving. Yet the exception for the

poor of the Land of Israel reminds Jews at all time of the centrality of that Land in Jewish

society and worldview.

A brief discussion of how much to give and in what way to give it will suffice for

our consideration of the religious intent of these mitsvot. Each Jew is required to give at

least a minimal gift to every legitimately poor person who asks for it; the ideal would be

to give enough to cover the needs of all the poor.

Those needs, interestingly, are defined by the standard of living to which the poor

person was accustomed before becoming poor (or, if that person had always been poor,

the standard of living common to people of his/her social station). A formerly wealthy
205
The rules of charity are well-summarized in Shulhan Arukh, Yoreh De`ah 249-250.
140

person would have the right to a different level of communal funds than a person who

had always been poor.206

Charitable giving, then, seeks not only to keep people alive, but to replace what

they have lost. It also means that halakhah’s definition of material needs depends on

prior accustomization; a person of wealth apparently needs more (or differently) than

someone else.

Assuming, as is usually the case, that one person cannot cover all the needs of the

poor who present themselves, halakhah sets a fifth of one’s income as the upper limit on

what a person is allowed to give to charity. 207 Giving more, the Talmud implies,

bespeaks an unseemly confidence that one will always have money as needed, when

disaster can strike at any time.208 While the mitsvah speaks of taking care of those to

whom life has dealt a difficult economic hand, permanently or temporarily, halakhah also

206
Although I do not know where it is discussed, it seems likely that dei mahsoro, the
requirement to fill what is lacking for a particular person, applies only to those who are
not responsible for their fall from wealth. A person who suffered business reversals that
were out of his control should have more of a claim on charity dollars than one who lost
his fortune because of misdealings, drugs, laziness, or other unacceptable causes.
207
See, for example, bKetubbot 50a.
208
Most people find one-fifth a challenging percentage of one’s income to donate to
charity. Those who find one-fifth a restriction can recategorize some donations
commonly considered charity. Helping fund cancer research, for example, is generally
seen as a form of charity; a person seeking ways to give more money to charity, however,
could reasonably argue that charity involves only what is given away to the poor.
Investing in medical research can be seen as a prudent investment in one’s safety,
readying medicine for oneself in case of contracting that illness.
The same might be said for speculative investments intended as a way to help
stimulate a poor country’s economy; on one level, the contribution is charity, since it
gives work to people, some of whom are poor; as these investments also often fail, they
do not intuitively qualify as business ventures. Someone interested in spreading around
more of his or her wealth could, however, argue that these are not charity, they are the
most speculative part of a diversified portfolio.
141

wants people to recognize that the distance between them and poverty is not as concrete

as they would like to believe.

A related mitsvah speaks of lending to the poor before they need to accept alms.

Maimonides calls this the highest form of charity, since it helps the poor person before he

descends to the stage of complete dependence.209 That phrasing misleadingly suggests

that lending to the poor is an example of charity; in fact, though, Maimonides counts it

separately in the Sefer haMitsvot and opens his Laws of Lenders and Borrowers210 by

speaking of this mitsvah, informing us that it is an independent, albeit related, mitsvah.

In one sense, an obligation to lend only expands our understanding of charity by

letting us know that lending money can replace “real” charity, meaning it can obviate the

need for outright gifts to the poor.211 Seeing Maimonides place it in a section of the Code

that codifies the laws of lending and borrowing generally reminds us that economic

activity sits just a little ways down the continuum from outright charitable giving. Gifts

to the poor are clearly charity; lending money to a poor person is a form of charity that is

also an ordinary economic activity; and, finally, buying and selling goods is mostly an

ordinary economic activity, but at the same time supports the seller (and any of his or her

employees), keeping them away from poverty. While the two areas seem sharply

distinct, these mitsvot show us that people help each other economically all the time, just

sometimes more obviously than others.

209
Laws of Gifts to the Poor, 10; 7.
210
As does Shulhan Arukh, Hoshen Mishpat 97.

It also suggests that the Torah spoke of moneylending primarily as a way of helping
211

those in need, not in terms of business, which provides some support for Jews’ having
found ways around the laws of interest over the years, at least for business loans.
142

Jewish law’s discussion of whether to give charity to non-Jews yet again expands

our understanding of halakhah’s vision of charity. The Talmud rules that Jews should

support poor non-Jews along with Jews mipnei darkei shalom, because of the ways of

peace.212 R. Moses Isserles, in his glosses to Shulhan Arukh limits that obligation to cases

where there are Jewish poor present; he assumes that the Talmud’s reference to

supporting non-Jews with Jews is an absolute necessity for the obligation.213 The

Shulhan Arukh itself, however, allows supporting non-Jewish poor generally, since that,

too, fosters the peaceful living that concerned the Talmud.214

That limited justification of supporting non-Jews may, however, only apply to

idol worshipping non-Jews. The Talmud envisioned another type of non-Jew as well,

one who publicly accepted the obligation to keep the seven Noahide commandments—

the laws that the Talmud believed God had ordained for non-Jews-- out of recognition of

the Jewish God.

Such non-Jews, in the time of the Sanhedrin, gained the status of gerei toshav,

fellow-travelers of the Jewish people.215 The Torah obligates Jews to support such people

equally with ordinary Jews.216 Were there a Temple and Sanhedrin today, in other words,

212
bGittin 61a.
213
Yoreh Deah 251; 1.
214
151;13.

The question of who is an idol worshipper is too complicated for the present context.
215

Moslems are generally not considered idol-worshippers; the status of Christians is more
complicated, depending on their understanding of the Trinity, and, probably, on their
bowing before religious icons. Interested readers can read David Berger’s article in the
forthcoming volume of the Orthodox Forum discussing Jewish attitudes to non-Jews.
216
Leviticus 25;35.
143

Jews would have to support Arab poor (assuming they were willing to publicly declare

their understanding that the Jewish God is the real one and to accept upon themselves the

seven Noahide commandments; neither of those declarations contradicts Islam) just the

same as Jewish poor.

Maimonides thought that the status of ger toshav could not be created without a

Sanhedrin, so that the obligations of charity to non-Jews remain in the “ways of peace”

realm.217 At the ideological level, however, the Torah seems to be saying that charity,

another form of economic endeavor, is the right of all people who recognize God’s

existence and are working to fulfill their own obligations and desiderata vis a vis that

God. The bond of one Jew for the other may be stronger than his or her bond with the

rest of humanity on some issues, but in the question of providing financial support, the

laws of charity seek to insure that all humans who worship their Creator appropriately for

them, have the financial wherewithal to make their way in life.

35)206 & 207—Loving Fellows and Converts


Synopsis: The obligation to emotionally and practically display love for other Jews, with
an extra obligation to show that love to converts.

These mitsvot complement the previous two, since they offer a particularistic

message to counter the universalistic one we discovered in the obligation to give charity.

Since these are the positive counterparts to prohibitions against mistreating either of these

kinds of people, they seem to see this love as promoting a positive value, not just

preventing a negative outcome.

217
Rabad, Laws of Idol Worship, 10:6, disagrees with Maimonides on this issue; at least
on the question of allowing non-Jews to live in the Land of Israel (assuming there was
Jewish control over the Land), he claimed that it was possible to create the status of ger
toshav even without Sanhedrin or Temple.
144

To take the first one first, the mitsvah to love one’s fellow Jew, encapsulated by

the Torah’s command, ve-ahavta le-re`akha kamokha, you shall love your fellow as

yourself,218 balances emotional and practical components. Emotionally, the mitsvah

seeks to remind Jews that they bear a responsibility to cultivate the types of emotions for

fellow-Jews that they instinctively have for family members and close friends.

Love, the Torah is saying, should not only depend on an actual relationship

between people; for the nation that serves God and attempts to be the beacon of His rule

in the world, membership in the nation should be enough to inspire feelings of love for

any other member of the nation.

Practically, any act of consideration can qualify as a fulfillment of this mitsvah.

Maimonides points out that many of the obligations to acting kindly towards others are

thought of as being of rabbinic origin; visiting the sick, comforting the bereaved,

celebrating with a bride and groom and helping those who cannot afford to get married

all technically qualify “only” as rabbinic commandments. Yet, as he points out, these

acts fulfill the mitsvah of ve-ahavta le-re`akha.219 The mitsvah thus implies a whole code

of conduct in which care for others’ property, honor, and feelings, is a religious

obligation rivaling more obviously religious observances such as prayer or shaking a

lulav.

This mitsvah’s combining an internal, emotional component with an external,

practical one makes the underlying goal of the mitsvah unclear. Some authorities, such as

218
Leviticus 19;18.

Laws of Mourning 14;1. This might be another example of the Rabbis codifying,
219

defining specifi practical examples of a mitsvah in the Torah, an idea we have already
seen before, such as in the definition of Hol haMoed or of the innuyim of Yom Kippur.
145

the Sefer haHinukh, focused on the external, classifying this as a political mitsvah,

insuring that Jewish society functioned smoothly and justly.220 In that version, the

commandment does not focus on the individual Jew’s development, just the society such

emotional bonding will create. Similarly, in mitsvah 431, the Hinukh sees part of the

value of loving converts in the impression that will create among non-Jews, which (if that

were the whole picture) would again externalize the value of the mitsvah.

Others see these mitsvot in terms of how they shape the person who adopts them.

Solomon ibn Gabirol’s 11th century Sefer Tikkun Middot haNefesh incorporates the

mitsvah in his discussion of rahamim, the trait of compassion for others. The late 15th

century Orhot Tsadikim includes this mitsvah in the discussions of love, of compassion,

of hatred, and of joy, seeing Jews’ love of others as contributing to the proper

development of each of these character traits.

Maimonides includes the obligation to love one’s fellow Jew in his Hilkhot Deot,

Laws of Character Traits.221 So, too, the Hinukh adds (to his statement that non-Jews will

recognize that Jews are a Godly nation by how they treat converts) that in developing the

character that will love converts, Jews will merit Divine love and presence as well, which

obviously focuses on the character issue. A significant group of Jewish thinkers thus saw

the mitsvah as more than just practical, as the Torah telling Jews the type of character

they need to develop.

Minhat Hinukh, extrapolating from a ruling of Maimonides’ regarding rebuking

someone else, notes that the Torah did not require Jews to feel the same love for a

220
Mitsvah 243.
221
6;3.
146

purposeful sinner. In a mitsvah that did not make Maimonides’ list of sixty,222 the Torah

requires Jews to point out to their fellow Jews sins that they are committing. In

explaining how to offer those critiques, Maimonides urges first doing so gently and

privately.223

If, in an issue that has to do with one’s service of God, the sinner simply ignores

or rejects the advice, Maimonides allows and perhaps expects Jews to publicly rebuke the

person, as did the prophets of old.224 That whole issue is extremely complicated and

deserves treatment of its own, but Minhat Hinukh understands that the responsibility to

publicly upbraid the person suspends at least some elements of the requirement of love, at

least for the particular sin being committed, at least until the sinner repents.

Should those willful sins be of a broad nature, that dislike might need to be

generalized as well. There, too, technical issues cloud the discussion, but it does seem

worthwhile to stress that the obligation of love was based upon a shared dedication to

fulfilling God’s commandments; those who willfully, deliberately, and knowingly

rejected the commandments cut themselves off from the love the Torah ordained for all

Jews to bear each other.

On the other hand, even serious sin, once repented or atoned, was not a barrier to

that love. The Talmud assumes a requirement to incorporate love within the capital

punishment given to certain kinds of criminals. The phrase beror lo mita yafa,225 find

Mitsvah 205. Maimonides’ list only encompasses those that a Jew necessarily
222

encounter s in life; a Jew who was never hurt by anyone else and never saw them
transgress Jewish law would never have to rebuke them.
223
Laws of Character Traits 6;7.
224
Ibid. 6;8.
225
See, for example, bPesahim 75a.
147

him (a Jew convicted of a capital crime) a good death is seen as an extension of the

obligation of ve-ahavta le-re`akha kamokha. Even with a sinner, a bedrock love remains,

although thick layers of hatred for that person’s actions might force that love deep

underground.

The mitsvah of loving converts mostly emphasizes the same lessons as that of

loving any Jew, just that it is harder to fulfill with converts, since they do not naturally

“belong” in the same way as other Jews. The lesson of learning to love people simply

because of a shared dedication to the service of God as Jews—without any shared history

or blood-- is that much harder, but that much more important, to learn. In addition, the

Sefer haHinukh suggests expanding the lesson of this mitsvah to increasing one’s

compassion for anyone who is weak and defenseless, or who does not feel fully part of

the group. From his perspective, love of converts should serve as a paradigm for

welcoming those who do not yet fit into society.

We might add that the reason the Torah gives for the mitsvah, ki gerim heyitem

be-erets mitsrayim, for you were strangers in the Land of Egypt, suggests another

character element of a Jew’s life. Human beings naturally want to be “in,” to be part of

the accepted and popular crowd, and will sometimes twist themselves in horrifying

contortions to achieve that status.

The Jew’s obligation to love the stranger, and to do so by remembering that he,

too, was once in that position, suggests that the Torah was interested in retaining that

experience of strangerhood in the Jewish national mentality. A Jew is never supposed to

become so comfortable in life that he or she forgets the experience of strangerhood.

Rather, any time that another person is bearing that discomfort, the Jew is expected to
148

empathize, since he, too, underwent the exact same feeling of loneliness, of not

belonging, of lacking a welcoming society around him. In remembering, the Jew will

then ease the discomfort of the stranger, or whoever else feels the isolation the Torah

reminds the Jew of on a regular basis.

36)208—The Mitsvah of Proper Measurements


Synopsis: The obligation to support society’s attempt to create an economy in which the
conduct of business can be trusted.

At first glance, this mitsvah seems simple, both in its rules and its place in the

halakhic system. The basic commandment, which the Torah states both positively and

negatively,226 is to own only accurate measuring tools, whether for dry or liquid measure,

and not to cheat anyone by using false measurements. The rule applies only to

measurements that might be used in a business context, so that having an inaccurate

bathroom scale in one’s home, for example, would not run afoul of this issue.227

Even within a business context, Maimonides allows using a measure that is off by

less than a sixth, since halakhah assumes in several places that Jews implicitly forgive

errors of up to one sixth.228 Rabad adds, however, that that is only if the seller did not

misleadingly imply or claim that the measure was fully accurate. The mitsvah thus seems

to address the need for accurate measurements in a business context, and only as long as
226
Leviticus 19;36 and Deuteronomy 25; 13-15.
227
Another example is when the government places a seal on measuring tools that have
been inspected; since one’s home measure do not bear the government seal, it would be
permitted to own them without violating the Torah’s prohibition. Minhat Yitshak,
10;149, was asked about a charity that lent various medical equipment, including scales
for infants and tape-measures, that were no longer accurate. He preferred that a note be
affixed to such items to announce that they are not considered accurate, but he basically
permitted owning and lending them as long as they were not being used in a business
context.
228
Laws of Theft 7:5.
149

there is a victim; if the other person realizes the measurements are reasonably inaccurate,

that, too, seems to be acceptable.

Realizing that the mitsvah codifies a different form of theft,229 does not explain the

level of seriousness both the Bible and the Rabbis attach to this mitsvah.230 First, the

Torah does not lightly provide both a prohibition and a commandment to an issue unless

it sees some value in the positive commandment. Second, the Talmud points out that the

Torah here warns against using false measures even in a mesurah, a very small measure.

The Torah objects to willful mismeasuring of even tiny amounts, a concern with detail

that is not as true in theft generally.

Beyond the Torah’s concern for accuracy, the Sifra makes two points about this

mitsvah that heighten its seriousness. First, the verse warns against committing avel ba-

mishpat ba-midah etc., which loosely means not to do wrong in weights. Literally,

however, the words mean not to pervert justice with weights, from which the Sifra infers

a parallel between the act of weighing and measuring and the act of judging. Just like

perverted justice is seen as hurting Jewish society at large, so, too, the Sifra views

improper measures, no matter how small, as hurting Jewish society as a whole.

Second, in a comment Maimonides quotes in the Sefer haMitsvot, the Sifra notes

that the Torah connects this commandment to the Exodus from Egypt. The Sifra

therefore comments that one who accepts this mitsvah demonstrates his belief in the

Exodus, and one who denies this mitsvah inherently denies the Exodus.

As is suggested by the context in which the Bible places it, in Leviticus 19, by
229

Maimonides’s placing it in Laws of Theft, and by Sefer haHinukh’s claim that this
mitsvah is obvious to any person of intellect in that it teaches honesty and distancing
oneself from theft.
230
Sifra Kedoshim 3:8.
150

Comparing this form of theft to the ordinary variety, where a thief simply sneaks

into a house and takes items that do not belong to him, explains why tradition was so

much more strongly negative about this kind of theft. Everyone recognizes the wrong in

the thief’s act, whereas the person who falsifies measurements seems to be an upstanding

citizen. In hiding the act of theft from its victim, the mismeasurer weakens people’s

ability to trust everyday social and commercial acts, meaning that he damages the fabric

of society more seriously than a regular thief. That is not because of the amounts of

money involved (although that can be a problem as well), but because people’s trust in

the machinery of business is damaged, even destroyed.

Seeing the falsifier of weights and measures as one who undermines the workings

of society as a whole explains the comparisons in the Sifrei. Like here, the loss to society

when a judge perverts a financial case is greater than the cost of the actual money

misappropriated. The loss stems from the loss of public confidence in the judicial

system, lessening that society’s ability of to rescue those who have been cheated.

The application to the Exodus seems clear as well. Jews are not supposed to view

mitsvot as a set of really smart laws promulgated by a really smart man, but as divine

rules with roots in the Exodus. A person who secretly tries to cheat the system, as if it

were a human one, inherently denies the foundations of Jewish society. Perhaps for that

reason as well, the Talmud specifically requires beit din, the representatives of society, to

set up policemen to insure and inspect weights and measures.231

In the previous discussion, we saw Sefer haHinukh suggest that the lessons being

taught by the mitsvah of loving converts should lead people to have compassion on all

231
bBaba Metsia 89a.
151

those who are not protected by society as a whole. So, too, here, we would suggest that

the ramifications of the mitsvah of proper weights and measures extend to include all

unseen acts that reduce people’s trust in others and in the system.

While nowadays weights are less significant for many businesses, accounting

practices, for example, are much more important. The Torah elsewhere prohibits adding

to its laws, but on an ideological level, we can reasonably say that fiddling with

accounting practices parallels what concerned the Torah about false weights and

measures (as does point shaving at sporting events, for another example).

Once again, a mitsvah fairly narrow in its original presentation ends up making

broad ethical and religious statements that the Jew must keep in mind throughout his or

her business life. As we find the ramifications of each of these mitsvot, we hopefully also

continue to confirm for ourselves that Maimonides’ list of sixty indeed captures essential

religious concerns of the Torah and the Jewish way of life.

36) 209—Honoring Sages and the Elderly


Synopsis: The obligation to stand out of respect for scholars and the elderly, whom the
Bible assumes to have greater knowledge of God and how to grow closer to Him than
others.

Leviticus 19:32 reads “Mipnei sevah takum, vehadarta penei zaken, In the

presence of an old person you should rise and you should honor the presence of a sage.”

The basic obligation, to stand up before a hakham, a wise person, applies even to wise

people who are not one’s own teacher. Jews must stand when such people enter their

personal space, known as their daled amot, about six feet. Once they pass, the obligation

ends and the people can take their seats.

The obligation extends to wise people and to those who are notably elderly, as

long as the latter are not evildoers. The Talmud even entertains an opinion that
152

Maimonides seems to accept as a matter of practice, that Jews should verbally honor

elderly non-Jews (meaning that there is no need to rise, but one should say something that

shows respect) and offer them a helping hand.232 Wisdom or age earns the right to honor.

The standards of required respect rise even higher when it comes to one’s own

main teacher, the person who rov hokhmato mimenu, from whom most of one’s

knowledge is derived.233 One who has such a rebbe owes him respect and fear

approaching that of God, and outweighing even that of a parent. Such students must rise

from the time they see their teacher and remain standing until he either disappears from

view or reaches his place and sits down. Other types of honor include the rule that the

student must secure the teacher’s permission before becoming a rabbi on one’s own, one

of the sources of modern ordination, and also the rule that the student may not offer a

legal decision in the teacher’s presence.

For the many who do not have a teacher like that, the obligation remains only to

rise for all scholars. This might seem insignificant, except that halakhah gave Sages the

power of nidui, meaning any individual Torah scholar of sufficient stature had the right to

excommunicate those people he felt had mistreated him. While Maimonides discourages

using that power in response to personal insults, the granting of the power itself shows

that the Rabbis of the Talmud placed remarkable value on respect for scholars.234

232
bKiddushin 33a, Laws of Torah Study, 6:9.
233
The figure of the rebbe muvhak, the main teacher, is less common today when people
tend to attend many institutions of study, learning from various teachers. In the Talmud’s
time, students entered the school of a particular rabbi when young and did not leave until
the bulk of their education had been completed.

Laws of Talmud Torah 7;13. Chapters 6 and 7 collate various statements about the
234

importance of proper respect for Sages.


153

Perhaps focusing on the reasons offered for the mitsvah will help us understand its

importance. Maimonides offers two reasons for honoring Sages. First, he says that

standing for Torah scholars teaches busha ve-anavah, embarrassment and humility.235

Bushah here does not have the negative connotations it does in English, but refers to an

appropriate and laudable shyness and hesitation before acting for fear of doing wrong.

For that explanation of the mitsvah, however, it is almost irrelevant before whom Jews

rise, since the value is only in their having to demonstrate respect for some class of

people. Had God wanted to order Jews to rise for another segment of society, it would

nonetheless have served their personal development, since that, too, would have reduced

the sense of self, inculcating humility.

Maimonides’ choice of placement of these rules-- Laws of Torah Study-- and an

explicit statement in the Guide suggest another reason as well. 236 While he re-records the

comment about busha ve-anavah, he also says that unless people already respect Torah

scholars, they will not listen to them when it comes to matters of character or action,

which he assumes is a central function of the Torah scholar. The mitsvah of honoring

such people, then, was as a way to make sure that Jews respected their opinion in matters

of Torah and halakhah. Without that respect, people will not follow (or solicit) much-

needed advice about how the Torah and God want them to live their lives.237

In the fourth chapter of Shemonah Perakim, his introductory essay to the commentary
235

on Avot.
236
Guide III;36.
237
A story on this very issue. A doctor was once set upon by robbers, who were about to
steal his medical bag for the drugs and money they knew were inside. He begged them to
leave him the rest of the bag, explaining that he needed his medications to heal sick
people. Nonetheless the robbers took the bag, took the drugs they could use, and threw
the rest of it in the river. Soon after, one of the robbers became ill. Somewhat
embarrassed, he went to the doctor to beg his forgiveness and ask for his help. The
154

All of these reasons, however, do not fully explain why the elderly are part of the

mitsvah. Were the commandment only to honor Sages, each of these suggestions fits

well; however, the Torah speaks of honoring the elderly, which tradition saw as including

even those who were young but had attained stature in their knowledge of Torah; the

implication of the Biblical phrasing stresses the age factor, not the Torah knowledge

factor.

Thinking about elderly non-Jews perhaps will clarify the issue. When the Talmud

reports that R. Yohanan stood for elderly non-Jews, it quotes him as noting how many

adventures and experiences had happened to such people.238 He assumes that his

comment sufficiently explains his standing, meaning that the need to stand relates to the

life experience of the person for whom one is standing. Torah scholars may more quickly

assemble enough such experience to deserve honor, but most elderly people do so as

well.

Sefer haHinukh’s reasoning is close to that, since he says that the mitzvah reminds

Jews to demonstrate respect for those who have succeeded at using their wisdom to find

God, the reason people were created.239 Standing for Torah sages, in this view, reminds

the ordinary people that such scholars have come closer to the ultimate goal of existence

doctor readily forgave him, but told him that the medication he needed to give him was in
the bag that the robber had stolen from him.
So, too, the remedy to some spiritual ills (or, the key to finding the next positive
avenue for spiritual growth) often lies in finding proper advice from those who have
spent the time and effort to gain the relevant insight. The mitsvah of standing before
Sages tries to insure that when such situations arise, Jews are ready to listen to those who
will have the answer to the question at hand.
238
bKiddushin 33a.
239
Mitsvah 257.
155

than those who have not consistently applied their intellects to the search for God.

Applying that to the elderly might mean that the Torah assumed that their years on earth

have presumably given them enough greater understanding of God to deserve the honor

of those younger than them.

If so, we would suggest that the Torah’s call for standing is a call to recognize

that life teaches lessons on how to live it; it behooves the young to respect their elders for

the lessons they can teach. Rather than being about respect for its own sake, the mitsvah

is about training oneself to be ready to learn from those who have valuable advice to

share. They might not seem to be fountains of useful knowledge, but the Torah is

requiring Jews to look to them as such, to at least have the wisdom of old age in the mix

of decisions that even the young make.

37)210 & 211--Honoring and Fearing Parents


Synopsis: The obligation to view parents as mini-God, as physical representations of the
Creator in one’s life. As with God Himself, this requires both fear—fear of punishment
—and honor, the desire to treat them well and fulfill their wishes.

Both of these commandments speak of how to relate to one’s parents, so it seems

logical to pair them, as indeed do the Sefer haMitsvot and the Shulhan Arukh.240

However, the Bible separates them, with kavod, honor, being included in the Ten

Commandments, and yir`ah, fear, being mentioned in the beginning of Leviticus 18. The

Bible’s placement of the two cautions us to look at each separately, after which we will

hopefully be able to show how they combine to produce one meaningful whole.

The Talmud interprets kavod in practical terms, defining the obligation as

ma`akhil u-mashkeh, malbish, u-mekhaseh, makhnis, umotsi, giving food and drink,

covering and clothing, taking in and out. Extrapolating from that list, kibbud appears to
240
Yoreh Deah 240.
156

mean taking care of a parent's needs, not any particular honor that one bestows upon the

parent.241 A child honors the parent by making sure that the parent is cared for, by

fending for the parent when he or she cannot so fend for themselves.

Honor as an issue of care might sound like a quid pro quo-- parents cared for the

child when young, so the child has to return the favor, but several halakhot show that that

is not true. First, by pure halakhic standards, the obligation is only to provide services

from the parent's funds, whereas the parents also used their funds for the child. While the

Rabbis insisted that children who were financially able had to help a parent who did not

have money, the Torah did not require it.242 In addition, halakhah never discusses

whether this parent had actually provided for the child financially or otherwise, ignoring

the question of reciprocity. In fact, a mamzer, a child born of a sexually inappropriate

union who is forever excluded from marrying ordinary Jews because of his or her

parents’ wrongful union, must nonetheless demonstrate kavod, despite their consigning

him to a life of exclusion and inferior status.

Turning to the obligation of yir’ah for a moment will help us understand both

obligations further. Yirah is defined as not sitting or standing in the parent's place, not

speaking before the parent, not contradicting the parent, not calling a parent by his/her

first name (or even, if it is an unusual name, calling someone else by that name), and not

entering into a discussion in which a parent is partaking, even to support the parent's

point of view. All of these suggest that a child is supposed to view the parent with a

certain amount of fear; indeed, Maimonides says that the mitsvah is to act towards the
241
Some of the defined aspects of mora, fear or awe, will in fact seem more like what we
might have assumed for kibbud.
242
That leaves open, for example, the possibility of using charity funds to support a
parent, although the Rabbis frowned on that solution.
157

parent as one would towards someone who could punish them for mistreating them. It

should be obvious that the fear in and of itself is not the Torah's goal, so that here, too,

we are prodded to look deeper into the mitsvah.

A couple of Rabbinic statements will clarify how the Rabbis understood the

Torah's goals. the Rabbis point out that Scripture uses the same terms for these mitsvot as

they do for parallel attitudes towards God.243 Thus, the verse warns kabed parents, and

elsewhere says kabed God; so, too, it warns ish imo ve-aviv tira’u, every one of you must

fear his mother and father, and et Hashem Elokekha tira, fear the Lord your God. By

connecting the two to each other, the Rabbis imply that the relationship to parents should

somewhat parallel a person’s relationship to God. As two of the three partners in a

person’s creation, parents have a right to treatment akin to that given to the third partner

in the Creation.244

Recognizing that the commandment of fear stems from parents’ having created a

person also fits with the Sefer haHinukh’s assertion that this mitsvah inculcates gratitude,

a gratitude he explicitly assumes will lead to greater gratitude to God for His continuing

kindnesses. The honoring of parents thus only partially focuses on the parents; aside

from their own rights to honor, they serve as a convenient vehicle to teach a better

attitude towards the Creator.

Maimonides's phrasing of two more laws supports this idea. Halakhah prohibits

interfering with a parent, even if the parent’s ill-advised actions will cost the child

money. In the extreme example, Maimonides prohibits a child from interfering with a

243
bKiddushin 30b.
244
The image appears in the Talmud, ibid.
158

parent who was about to throwing a bag full of the child's money into the ocean.245 He

phrases that by saying that the child must sit silently and accept the gezerat hakatuv, the

decree of Scripture. Similarly, Maimonides writes that if the parent embarrasses the child

publicly, the child may not reply, but must maintain his fear of the King of Kings.

Note that Maimonides’ justification in both cases relies on the child’s obligations

towards God, not towards the parent. In both situations, then, the goal is to see this

physical person as in some way parallel to God, to use that as a stepping-stone to

inculcating a more full honor and fear of God.

Summary of Building a Society

Some of the mitsvot just reviewed would arise in any discussion of building a just

society, Jewish or not, and some teach non-obvious lessons about Jewish society.

Decision procedures such as majority rules, insuring the honesty of businesses,246 setting

up a financial safety net for those who fall on hard times, and removing dangers from

places where people might get hurt are necessary parts of any society; the interest of the

Jewish version lies in the choices it makes in how to express those well-recognized

values.

While all societies want to promote good feelings among their members, for

example, the bond that Jewish society demands goes beyond the ordinary human

appreciation for those who share one’s physical and social space. Because of their shared

commitments, even Jews who do not know each other are meant to bear a greater love for

Laws of Rebellious Ones, 6:7. Others, noting that the obligation of honor does not
245

extend to the child’s using his own money, disagree.

Although there, we noted that the Torah thinks of it as an exercise in justice, not only
246

honesty.
159

their fellow-Jews than for non-Jews.

The contrast stems from the different roles that ordinary neighbors and Jews play

in others’ lives. Neighbors provide social, physical, and economic comfort to each other

in numerous ways, creating a debt of gratitude and an obligation of the good feelings that

extend from that gratitude. Jews, however, aid each other in hastening the advent of

tikkun olam be-malkhut shakkai, of establishing God’s rule in the world; that should, as

far as the Bible is concerned, create a greater emotional connection.

Recognizing why Jews are supposed to love each other fortifies the understanding

of the separate mitsvah to love a convert. A convert has decided to not only strive for

closeness with God but to join the people whose mission is to bring that awareness of

God to the world as a whole. The love being discussed, in both cases, is the love of those

who share a common, higher purpose.247

Realizing that Jewish society conceived of itself as a fellowship dedicated to

furthering the recognition of God’s rule in the world explains the ordinary mitsvot and

their special characteristics. Other mitsvot in the list do not, however, obviously

contribute to building such a society. It is not clear, for the central example, how

developing a proper attitude towards rabbinic authorities and parents foster a better

society as a whole.

The obligation to respect Torah scholars in particular seems more related to the

required respect for Torah in general than to building a well-functioning Torah society.

By placing the mitsvah of respect for Sages so late in the list-- the obligations to develop
247
This does not mean that it is better for a non-Jew to convert than to remain non-Jewish
and observe the Noahide laws; it just means that Jews feel more familial to those who
join their own particular niche in God’s world. Those familial feelings, and the need to
insure that the non-Jew recognizes that he has been accepted into the family, are what
drive the mitsvah to love a convert.
160

a lasting relationship with Torah sages and to study Torah were earlier in the list,

numbers 6 and 11 respectively-- Maimonides emphasizes that respect for scholars of

Torah characterizes Jewish society in all times and places. As a personal need, it would

teach each Jew to respect Torah and those who understand it best.

As a social issue, respecting Torah Sages reminds each citizen of the centrality of

Torah and its messages to the society’s goals. So, too, respecting one’s parents as

physical representations of God places the issue of God and His awareness firmly in the

consciousness of each member of the Jewish people.

In brief summary, then, the rules of Jewish society add a central principle to

ordinary human society, the recognition of God and of the Jews’ mission to further the

awareness of that God in the world.


161

BUILDING A FAMILY

Four of the five mitsvot left in Maimonides’ list of sixty essential positive

commandments focus on creating the nuclear family, mitsvot that Maimonides lists in an

odd order. He first records the obligation, upon the man, to bear children. Second, he

notes that the Torah requires kiddushin, a formal act of betrothal, before marriage.248

Third, he records the Torah’s insistence that the man spend the first year of marriage with

his wife, making her happy. Finally, he mentions the father’s obligation to circumcise his

male children or have someone else do so.

The more obvious order would have been to list these commandments as they

generally occur chronologically—kiddushin, the first year, procreation, and then milah,

exactly the order, in fact, that Maimonides adopted in the Mishneh Torah’s discussion of

laws of marriage. By putting procreation first, Maimonides indicates that the

responsibility to have children contributes to the obligation of marriage itself. Marriage

was not only a way to avoid promiscuity or to build a loving relationship with another

person,249 it was also the proper context within which to fulfill the obligation of having

children. Celibacy, we find out at this point in the work, was not a reasonable option for

an observant Jewish man.250

248
Maimonides actually rules that all extramarital relations violate a prohibition in the
Torah, see Laws of Marriage 1;4, so that kiddushin actually must precede any sexual
relations.

It may have been both of those as well; Maimonides’ placement simply alerts us to the
249

importance of procreation as one of the forces requiring Jewish men to marry.

In that view of marriage, we might even claim that the obligation to spend a year with
250

one’s wife—most obviously a way of fostering good relations between the couple-- was
focused not only on marriage, but also on preparing the couple for harmonious
childbearing and rearing.
162

Until this point in our discussions, we have distinguished men from women only

by the level of rigidity the Bible adopted in defining their separate approaches to God.

Here, however, the Bible’s directing three of these five mitsvot251 at men only seems

likely connected to a more traditional distinction between the two.

The Talmud252 assumes that the Torah only required men to bear children, which

is particularly striking given that the man clearly needs a female partner to fulfill the

mitsvah. This is the only case we know of where the Torah commands an act that women

must necessarily join in, and yet only obligates men to do so. To explain the distinction,

the Talmud only mentions its reading of the verse; since the Bible refers to procreation as

conquering (an activity assumed to be foreign to women),253 women were exempt. Any

more thoughtful explanation of the Bible’s motivation was left to others.

By seeing this mitsvah as the centerpiece of a series delineating the obligation to

create a family, we can suggest an answer. Our study of Maimonides’ list of

commandments that apply everywhere at all times has shown that the Torah only

commands acts that people would not have known were necessary on their own, either

the act in general or details of that act that shape the meaning of the observance in the

ways the Torah wanted.

The Torah does not order Jews to breathe, to eat to keep themselves alive, to have
251
The obligation to bear children, to entertain one’s wife for the first year of marriage,
and to circumcises a son. The obligation liv`ol be-kiddushin, to enter into a relationship
with kiddushin before having sexual relations, presumably relates to Maimonides’
assumption that the prohibition of lo tihyeh qedeshah bi-vnot yisrael, there shall not be a
harlot among the Jewish people, applies to any extramarital sexual relations, see his list
of prohibitions, no. 355, and Laws of Marriage 1;4.
252
bYebamot 65b.
253
Genesis 1;28, “be fruitful and multiply, fill the Earth and conquer it.”
163

sexual relations in general, and so on. The Torah does not, however, command that

which a person would have done without any prompting exactly as the Torah wanted.

When the Torah commands what seem to be familiar acts, it is trying to shape or channel

that instinct in some non-obvious way.

The different instincts of men and women can then reasonably explain the Torah’s

not mentioning women in an obligation that cannot be fulfilled without their

participation. Women tend254 to focus on childbearing more than men, and-- at least until

recently-- assumed that childbearing and rearing was best performed within a family, so

that the Torah saw no need to obligate them in a mitsvah that wanted to produce that

reality. Men have always been, and continue to be, more likely to simply ignore or

wrongly delay this fundamental responsibility, so the Torah insures that a pious Jew

cannot.255

That idea also explains why the covenant of milah, circumcision, is so male-

oriented, applying to a body part that is exclusively male, and is only obligatory upon a

father. After all, God could have chosen an area of the body that existed in both men and

women, or at the very least, made mothers equally in charge of insuring that their male

offspring were circumcised. If we instead see this mitsvah as part of a series oriented
254
The word tend means only that a large enough majority of women do so that the Torah
would not feel the need to legislate for the minority. We make no claim that all women
are interested in childbearing, just that, taking human history since the time of the Torah
as a whole, enough women were so interested that there was no need to obligate them in
this element of human activity.
255
In that reading, we also better understand the Biblical phrasing of “fill the world and
conquering it”; for men, having children might seem like a personal issue of leaving a
legacy for the world. Those unmoved by that question, though, might legitimately
choose to focus on themselves than on a baby. The Torah’s phrase tells men that bearing
children is as much a part of what God wanted from people in creating them as any of
their other ways of conquering the world.
164

towards insuring that men also take part in building healthy marriages and having

children, milah as a male issue fits as well.

Milah would be the father announcing his submission to God’s command to

restrict his sexuality to the family unit, and his intent to continue to listen to God’s

command in the raising of this child. As the child is born, the father makes a permanent

mark on the organ that will allow that child to fulfill these responsibilities somewhere in

his future. The father says, physically and verbally, that he has reined in his ordinary

male impulse to use that organ promiscuously, and accepted God’s view of how to use it

—marriage, children, and teaching those children that they, too, must be servants of God

in all ways.256

The Torah only explicitly enunciates the last mitsvah on the list, the obligation to

bury, for those who had been killed for capital crimes, which might have indicated that it

was a mitsvah that related to building a society; we have included it here because

numerous halakhot show that the family bore the primary responsibility for insuring

proper burial of relatives. After reviewing more details of each of these mitsvot, we will

be better able to summarize what the Torah wanted, at least as a bare minimum, out of

the Jewish family.

38)212—Procreation
Synopsis: The obligation on Jewish men to work to leave behind, at the moment of their
death, at least one male and one female offspring, descended through one male and one
female line of his own offspring.

When the Torah only obligates Jewish men to procreate, it leaves out two other

possible candidates, non-Jews and women. For the first, the mitsvah offers an interesting

Of course, the father has the same intentions when his daughters are born, but
256

inducting daughters into the familial aspect of Judaism is, again, less of a challenge, since
daughters, like adult women, tend to gravitate towards that version of life in any case.
165

example of the Talmud’s general assumption257 that any mitsvah ordained for non-Jews

but not specifically repeated at Sinai applies only to Jews and not to non-Jews. Even

though God originally ordered all people to procreate, in other words, the Giving of the

Law at Sinai meant that non-Jews were no longer required to involve themselves with

having children. As we mentioned before, the Talmud derives the distinction between

men and women from the Torah’s reference to childbearing as a way of conquering the

earth.

To place those two exemptions in their full context, we need a bit more

information about the mitsvah. Although a matter of debate between Beit Shammai and

Beit Hillel in the time of the Mishnah,258 the accepted ruling is that a man has not fulfilled

the obligation until he has fathered a boy and a girl. More interesting, perhaps, is that

Beit Hillel view the mitsvah as similar to God’s original creation; since He started with a

man and a woman, Jews should, too. To some extent, then, Beit Hillel see each Jewish

man as obligated to leave behind descendants who could, theoretically, serve as the start

of a whole new world.

The focus on insuring that the world will continue after one has passed away

explains why two other cases, in neither of which did the father leave behind a male and a

female child, nonetheless qualify as fulfillment of the mitsvah. First, a man whose

children predecease him has not fulfilled the mitsvah. That alone shows that the issue is

not the man’s life and how he lived it, but what he leaves for the world that will exist

after he has passed away. Beyond that, if he has grandchildren, one male and one female,

257
bSanhedrin 59a.
258
bYevamot 61b.
166

descended from different children of his, again one male and one female, he has fulfilled

his obligation.259 Clearly, then, the concern of the mitsvah is for the man to leave behind

at the time of his death two separate lines of offspring, one male and one female.260

Similarly emphasizing the issue of legacy as opposed to technical relationship, R.

Yohanan rules that a convert whose children converted with him—in other contexts

treated by halakhah as complete strangers, since a convert is seen as born anew-- can

nonetheless see them as his fulfillment of the mitsvah.261 As long as the father left behind

Jewish children born of his physical line, R. Yohanan sees them as the father’s legacy to

the world.

Phrased this way, we realize the extent to which this is a mitsvah a Jew can only

work toward fulfilling, not insure success.262 Not only is fertility impossible to take for

granted, but that all of one’s children will outlive a person is also not necessarily so.263

bYevamot 61b-62a. There are other, rejected, opinions that also offer interesting
259

conceptualizations of the obligation, but we are concerned with the accepted version of
the requirement.

The requirement that the grandchildren come from different children points towards a
260

genetic component, that the Torah cared that the two lines of offspring have differing
genetic pools.
261
bYevamot 62a.
262
Maimonides's absolving a bridegroom of the responsibility to say Shema on the night
of his wedding because he is involved with the mitsvah of childbearing, Laws of Shema
4;1, makes the same point, that it is the act of marital relations that constitutes
performance of the mitsvah since it is through that act that the fulfillment might, and
hopefully will, come. The actual children are just the standard of when one can feel that
he does not have to direct his efforts further in this particular direction.

Consider the case of a man who gave birth to seven children, none of whom had
263

children of their own (a factor the father certainly does not directly control). If this father
outlives all those children—by living to be a hundred and twenty, for example, he will
die with the mitsvah unfulfilled. Perhaps, of course, it was his responsibility to ingrain in
his children the importance of childbearing, but the contrast with our intuition still stands.
167

The mitsvah’s focus on effort rather than achievement explains why the only

halakhic ramification of having fulfilled the mitsvah is whether the person must continue

trying to have more children or can, for example, choose to preclude further childbearing,

such as by marrying either an infertile or postmenopausal woman.

The need for help in fulfilling this mitsvah seems to signal Jews that they cannot

alone maintain the future of humanity or insure their success at a basic human function;

inherently, they need God to guide the production of offspring to allow for population

continuity and for their religious excellence.

While Maimonides writes of this mitsvah as focused on continuity of the species,

Sefer haHinukh speaks instead of responsibility to settle the world, a specific example of

the general human obligation to care for God's world. Several of the sources already

mentioned seem to support Sefer haHinukh’s view, focusing on the world as a whole

rather than humanity in particular. Beit Hillel, for example, do not refer to a male and

female descendant as imitating Adam and Eve, but as imitating the Creation. Second, the

exemption of women stems from their not being included in the requirement to conquer

the world; preservation of the species, in contrast, seems no more characteristic of one

gender than the other. Indeed, Maimonides does not cite the references to conquering, as

if he recognized that they lean in a direction other than his own.

Bah (R. Joel Sirkes, d. 1640) questions why the Tur, usually a technical legal

work, opens his discussion by quoting sources that emphasize the importance of the

mitsvah. He suggests that the Tur wished to emphasize that people cannot think of

childbearing as a matter of choice. Jewish men do not have children only because it is

enjoyable or meaningful, but as an expression of their obedience to God.


168

As the foundation mitsvah of this whole section, the commandment of

childbearing teaches a few lessons essential to the Jewish experience of family. It shows

that male Jews bear a responsibility to concern themselves with the world’s continuity

beyond their own lives. That involvement, as far as the verse expresses it, is as much a

part of their inhabiting and conquering God’s world as their usual activities in that

direction. In addition, they must know that they cannot alone insure that continuity;

insuring that they father a living male and female descendant at the time of their death

depends also on the Will of a power beyond their control. Finally, as the next mitsvot

will show, the mitsvah teaches male Jews that such production must occur within the

context of a family.

39) 213 & 214—The Obligations to Marry with Kiddushin and to Spend the First
Year Celebrating with One’s Wife
Synopsis: These two mitsvot teach men that they must formalize their marriages
before entering into them, and then take care to develop a relationship with their wives
that will insure the good health of that marriage.

The obligation to perform kiddushin, a formal act of betrothal, before marriage,

can be viewed as conditional or absolute. Viewed conditionally, the Torah was saying

only that those who choose to marry must do so with kiddushin, but was not requiring

marriage in a Jewish life. As we have seen in introducing this section, though,

Maimonides believes that the Torah prohibits any extramarital sexual relations; if so, the

obligation to bear children concomitantly obligates marriage as well.

We might assume that the kiddushin step was simply an assumed part of marriage

as the Torah envisioned it, but for the fact that Jewish law defines marriage for non-Jews

differently. As Maimonides notes in the beginning of Laws of Marriage, non-Jews marry


169

by consensually cohabiting, and the relationship ends when either party decides to

leave.264 While noting the difference between Jewish and non-Jewish marriage,

Maimonides does not offer any explanation of the Torah’s interest in an extra marital step

for Jews.

The Jewish way of ending marriage points to the answer. While non-Jews end a

marriage by walking out, Jews must have a get, a bill of divorce. A get becomes

necessary once kiddushin has occurred, even if the marriage is never completed or

consummated.

Requiring that Jewish marriages begin and end with a formal ceremony reveals an

interest, as yet unexplained, in strengthening the bonds between husband and wife,

making them aware of the seriousness of what they are either entering into or ending.

The Torah’s assumption elsewhere that Jews marry for the rest of their natural lives

explains that interest.

In the context of divorce, Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai agree that, at least for a

first marriage, only a wife’s sexually inappropriate behavior justified a husband’s

deciding to give her a divorce.265 As opposed to non-Jewish marriages, which halakhah

saw as beginning with simple bilateral consent and ending with unilateral exiting, the

bonds of a Jewish marriage were strengthened to insure that the parties would enter into it

seriously and stay in a marriage until it became intolerable in certain objective ways.

Kiddushin, a formal act initiating this lifelong relationship, provided that strengthening.

See also Laws of Kings 9;8. Non-Jews need a definition of marriage so they can know
264

when the prohibition of adultery—as forbidden for them as for Jews—is in effect.
265
bGittin 90a-b. Of course, on either side, mental or physical cruelty would be grounds
for divorce, but those are actions outside the proper bounds of interpersonal behavior
generally, not just in the context of marriage. The central point, though, is that just lack
of satisfaction was not seen as a proper reason to leave a marriage, for either party.
170

Seeing kiddushin as fortifying the seriousness of marriage segues nicely into the

next mitsvah, the obligation of the husband to stay with his wife during the first year of

marriage. Maimonides sees the obligation as protective, guaranteeing that the

community will not call a husband away from his wife during that first year for ordinary

communal responsibilities.266 Maimonides does not, however, define specific obligations

of the husband during this year.

Sefer haHinukh takes a different tack,267 describing the mitsvah as obligating the

husband to stay with his wife that whole first year, making it prohibited for him to leave

home for extended periods. That makes sense given his view that the mitsvah is there to

foster the development of a comfortable marital relationship between the two spouses,

something that takes time and presence. However, he does allow leaving home for a

matter of mitsvah, as well as a short trip even just for pleasure.

Further, he reports a view that gives the woman the right of mehillah, foregoing,

to let him leave for an extended period. If she has control of this issue, it would seem

more accurate to say that the Torah obligated the husband to insure that he would pay

proper attention to his wife; Sefer Hinukh, however, does not say it that way.

Both views of the mitsvah might agree that it is about creating loving spousal

relationships, with a disagreement as to who defines a loving relationship. Maimonides’

view allows for the possibility that the Torah left the decision as to what constitutes a

good marital relationship to the couple. As long as the community does not interfere

For wars of self-defense, or other wars obligated by the Torah, even a bride from her
266

canopy needs to go and join in the effort.


267
582.
171

with their right to spend that year together, what they actually do is no one else’s

business, allowing for variation among couples in how they develop marital happiness.

Sefer haHinukh might in contrast claim that the Torah is prescribing not only a

result, closeness, but also the method as to how to achieve that result, presence. That

would explain why any prolonged absence, even with the wife’s consent, could be

prohibited.

Those who allow a woman to forego the husband’s obligation either agree that the

mitsvah is geared towards marital happiness, or see it as protecting the woman herself. In

the first possibility, the Torah would seem to be saying that the wife has the ability to

judge which absences will prove detrimental to the health of their marriage. More likely,

though, these authorities saw the mitsvah focusing on the wife’s happiness, not the

couple’s. By insuring the husband’s presence at home, the Torah hopes the husband will

take the time to build a satisfying closeness with his wife.

The possibility that the Torah trusts women’s view of relationships more than

men’s, which would explain her right to forego his presence, could also explain women’s

exemption from these mitsvot. If kiddushin formalizes marriage to ensure that it is taken

seriously, the Torah quite possibly did not see women as needing that reminder.268 For

men, prone to laxity in relationships and even to having children out of wedlock, a

mitsvah was necessary. So, too, if women are relationship-oriented by nature, the Torah

might have seen no reason to require them to spend a certain period of time with their

husband to cement that relationship. Men, on the other hand, might be more likely to

Of course, if kiddushin is really adjunct to the mitsvah of bearing children, women


268

might have been exempted for the same reason as they are exempt from the mitsvah to
have children, as we discussed in the previous mitsvah.
172

take the relationship for granted.

These mitsvot, then, are exceptions to our ordinary search for reasons that the

Torah exempts women from certain obligations. Here we feel comfortable with an

answer we would not otherwise give, that the Torah saw women as more naturally

attuned to this area of life than men, obviating the value of commandments on that issue.

40)215--The Commandment to Circumcise Sons


Synopsis: The commandment for men to place upon their sexual organs a sign that
reminds them of the Abrahamic covenant with God, to build a nation that serves as His
representatives in the world.

The central significance of the mitsvah of circumcision to a male Jew’s religious

life is demonstrated by several sources. First, the Mishnah269 notes that the Torah uses

the word berit, covenant, thirteen times in recounting the story of God’s commanding

Abraham to circumcise himself and his family. Second, circumcision is one of only two

positive commandments which incur karet, excision, for those who deliberately and

willfully neglect to fulfill it. Third, timely circumcisions are performed on Shabbat,

when drawing blood is ordinarily prohibited. Fourth, the Talmud270 understands the

Torah to have obligated the father to circumcise his son, the community to circumcise

any boy whose father fails to fulfill his obligation, and for any uncircumcised male to see

to it that he becomes circumcised. Every Jew, for some reason, must do what he can to

see to it that all male Jews are properly circumcised.

Some technical characteristics of the mitzvah help explain its central religious

role. Circumcision, the cutting off of the foreskin and membrane at the tip of the penis, 271
269
bNedarim 31b.
270
bKiddushin 29a.

The obligation is to cut off the foreskin and membrane of the male organ, thus
271

revealing the tip or crown (the atarah). Historically, these were separate operations, with
173

may only be performed on or after the eighth day (including the day of birth and the day

of the milah) of the child’s life. Despite significant debate about the status of

circumcisions performed before the eighth day or at night, regnant halakhic practice is to

require a hatafat dam berit, a symbolic drawing of blood from the affected area, if the

circumcision was performed in either of these unsatisfactory ways.272

Sameness of result, disqualification of the circumcision, does not mean that they

are for the same reason. The Talmud’s declaring that circumcision before the eighth day

was meaningless implied that the child himself was unfit for milah until eight days had

passed, as if the foreskin was not yet a candidate for removal. 273 Night circumcisions

must be disqualified for a different reason, since that same child could have been

circumcised during the day; in this case, we are forced to say that nighttime is

inappropriate for circumcision, for a reason not fully articulated in the Talmud.274

These technical rules support Sefer haHinukh’s contention that circumcision gives

males a constant physical reminder of the connection to God. Just as animals cannot be

used for sacrifice until the eighth day,275 the Torah may have generally thought that

the milah, the cutting off of the skin, leaving behind a membrane that required peri`ah,
breaking. Modern practice has the person performing the circumcision, the mohel,
separating the membrane from the organ before the cutting, so that the cut takes care of
both at once.
272
Shulhan Arukh, Yoreh Deah, 262;1.
273
Arukh haShulkhan, Yoreh Deah 262 offers an interesting proof that the baby before the
eighth day does not yet register as uncircumcised. He cites a statement in the Jerusalem
Talmud that allows spreading oil of terumah on a child younger than eight days, where
normally an uncircumcised Jew—no matter what the reason for his lack of circumcision
—may not partake of terumah.
274
bYevamot 72b presents it as a debate about whether or not Leviticus 12;3 means to
limit circumcision to daytime.
275
Leviticus 22;27.
174

newborns in the first week were not ready for any sort of relationship with God. The

exclusion of night points to milah as a public act of worship, as the Jew in full view

ushering his son or himself into a special covenant with God.276

Circumcision as an indelible reminder of the Jew’s relationship with God, placed

in one of the focal points of the human body, explains the stress on milah’s covenantal

status, on its neglect being punished by karet (which the Bible refers to as “cutting a

person off from the community”), allowing it on Shabbat (the inscribing of one sign, in

this case, being able to suspend the observance of another, different, sign), and making it

obligatory not only upon the father but the community at large. That reminder is,

apparently, not only intellectual, but was to be a part of the physical person.277

Recognizing that milah was a physical reminder of covenant makes the question

of women’s exemption both more acute and more understandable. More acute, because it

seems like God is excluding them from the kind of physical reminders that God gave to

men.278

The Midrash often notes daytime as an expression of a public act, such as with
276

Scripture’s emphasis that Abraham performed the first milah during the day, Genesis
17;23, and Noah entered the Ark during the day, Genesis 7;13. In each case, Rashi sees
the Torah as stressing that the hero performed the act without fear of the people around
him. More technically, the Mishnah that mentions the daytime requirement, bMegillah
20a, begins a discussion that points out that the large majority of demonstrative mitsvot
must be performed during the day.
277
Maimonides’ view, in Guide III;49 and elsewhere, that circumcision was meant to
teach Jews to limit sexual intercourse is too complicated to discuss here. It agrees with
the view mentioned in the text, however, that the mitsvah consciously selected a
particularly sensitive part of the body to serve as the reminder of God’s covenant.
278
bKiddushin 29a. In fact, the Talmud cites a separate verse justifying women’s
exemption from circumcising their sons As Tosafot there points out, that verse should
have been unnecessary, since milah is a mitzvah `aseh she-hazman grama, a positive
time-related commandment, a category from which women are already exempt. Tosafot
suggests that the verse was only meant for those who believe circumcision after the
eighth day may be performed at night, meaning that there really is no time element to the
175

More understandable, however, because of either our comments in this section or


those about women in general. In this section, we have suggested that the laws of
creating families were addressed to men because they were both those who would take
family raising as an act of world-conquering and because they were the ones likely to
need a reminder of the importance of creating family. Milah, in that context, was a
tangible reminder of the proper and improper uses of the organ of procreation. Women,
who both do not have such an outward organ and (more importantly) were less likely to
misuse it, as far as the Torah was concerned, did not need that same reminder.
This exemption also fits our other distinction between men and women in
Judaism. We have been noting how much the Torah avoided prescribing as rigid a
religious world for women as for men, building on the assumption that women tend to
respond less well to rigidly authoritarian and commanded structures. Here, too, the Torah
not only exempts women from the commandment itself, but even from the obligation to
help their sons enter that covenant, as if they were not only free of this obligation, but
that it was irrelevant to them.
Whatever a woman’s relationship with God was going to be, it would not include

physical branding. Even without a full discussion of the Torah’s view of women’s

bodies, or women’s complicated experiences of their own bodies, the Torah’s freeing

them from this commandment allows them a freedom about their bodies that men were

denied, at least partially because a commanded “mutilation” of a woman’s body would

rankle to a greater extent than it does with men. Rather than create such tension, the

Torah limited the obligation to those for whom it would be productive rather than

burdensome.279

41)231—Burying Those Killed by Beit Din and Others, Too


Synopsis: The obligation to treat the former container of the soul, the Divine Image
found in every human being, with the proper respect by not leaving it unburied.

Particularly in a world where burying the dead is routine, the commandment to do

so might seem like common sense rather than a religiously important activity. Consulting

mitsvah. Ritva answers that zman grama, being time related, only affects personal
obligations; where the Torah obligates the entire community, however, women would
have been obligated as well. Hence, in his view, the verse.
279
Other views of milah, such as Maimonides’ claim that it meant to teach men to limit
their sexual activity, explain its limitation to men equally well. Since men, at least in the
Torah’s view, were the ones more likely to initiate and become engulfed by sexual
activity, it would be them the Torah would command in this reminder of limitation.
176

Jewish sources shows nuances to the issue that affect the conceptual underpinnings of the

commandment. First, the Torah expresses the requirement to bury in the context of a

man who has been publicly hanged as part of the punishment for either cursing God or

worshipping idols.280 The Torah then prohibits leaving the corpse out overnight, ki kavor

tikberenu, for you shall surely bury him.

Tradition extends that obligation to all other deceased as well, which Maimonides

quotes in his presentation of this commandment, echoed by the Sefer haHinukh.281 The

verse asserts that a corpse left out lying around constitutes an affront to God’s honor.

The reasons for that affront are not fully clear, but seem to be connected to people’s

having a tselem elokim, a Divine element in their makeup. Since all people have a tselem

elokim, the obligation can easily be extended to ordinary people as well.

Recognizing that humans bear a Divine Image explains the prohibition against

leaving a corpse lying out in the open, but could have led to other options than burying in

the ground. The Talmud cites this verse only as a remez, a hint, to the burying of the

dead, but not as establishing the actual obligation.282 So, too, when Maimonides details

the commandment, he speaks of a positive commandment to bury those killed by a court,

but only of a prohibition against leaving other corpses overnight, without explaining the

distinction between the two.

At the same time, the obligation to bury was strong enough to outweigh many

other considerations. For example, the Talmud discusses whether burial is a favor to the

280
See Deuteronomy 21;23, Sanhedrin 45b, and Maimonides’ Laws of Sanhedrin 15;6.
281
Sifrei, Deuteronomy, 21;23, Maimonides ibid 15;8, and Sefer haHinukh 537.
282
bSanhedrin 46a.
177

deceased, in that the pain of burial provides atonement for sin, or is a service to the

relatives, helping them avoid embarrassment. Were the first reason correct, a person

might have the right to forego burial, since it was only meant as a benefit to the

deceased.283 The other view, burial as a way of safeguarding a family’s honor, renders

the deceased’s wishes irrelevant.

The Talmud never resolves the debate, which might have led to a discussion as to

which of the two reasons to adopt in practical terms. Maimonides, however, requires

burial because of this mitsvah, which the Talmud did not mention.284 That means that in

his view, regardless of that Talmudic debate, the obligation to bury overrides any human

wishes to do otherwise. That Jewish law has always assumed that burial must be in the

ground, as opposed to a mausoleum or disposing of the body by cremation also focuses

our attention on the underlying concern of the obligation, the proper treatment of the

container of a soul that carries the Divine Image.285

283
The discussion assumes that events that occur to a deceased body also occur to the
person who had been alive, since it operates on the principle that burial (and related
events) can count as sufferings that atone for sins. Meiri accepts the literality of burial
pain, which is surprising for a Jewish thinker ordinarily thought of as a rationalist.
Commenting on bSanhedrin 46a, he adds that some troubles that befall a person are
really atonement for various sins, preparing him or her for pure reward in the next world.
The idea itself is a staple of Jewish thought on the issue and therefore unsurprising. We
mention it here because Meiri seems to accept the underlying idea that a corpse’s pains
after death can be counted among the sufferings that atone for his various sins.
284
The Talmudic debate would affect issues such as who can be required to pay for the
burial even if it does not touch on whether or not the person will actually be buried.

The double phrasing of the verse, kavor tikberenu, was seen as ruling out either of
285

those possibilities. In fact, Arukh haShulhan opposes burying in a coffin, preferring


burial into the ground itself; in support, he notes that R. Judah the Prince requested that a
hole be placed in his coffin. Nowadays, the custom in Jerusalem and its environs is to
lower the deceased into the ground on a stretcher, surrounding that by rocks in a
makeshift coffin, to avoid shoveling dirt directly onto the deceased.
178

Returning to the original issue, we can suggest that the need to emphasize that a

person bears the Divine Image is more acute in the case of someone put to death for

particularly heinous religious crimes. It would be easy to confuse the Torah’s decision to

put them to death and hang them with an implicit claim that that person had stifled or

excised his Divine Image.286 By insisting on that person’s burial, the Bible conveyed the

message that the Divine Image is an inalienable element of the human being, placing

obligations of treatment of the container of that Image. In the case of other people,

whose Image was not in question, the Torah would not need to make the point as clearly

or obligatorily.

That reasoning explains another halakhah that does not apply contemporarily, the

obligation of the High Priest to bury a corpse that has no one to see to its burial, known as

a met mitsvah. Although this same High Priest would not be allowed to attend a

relative’s funeral—he is the only person in the world whose connection to the Temple

was so absolute as to prohibit breaking it by coming into contact with a corpse—the need

to treat the body properly outweighs that consideration.

As so often in our studies, the mitsvah to bury ends up carrying a different

message than just the simple human urge to properly care for deceased relatives. In the

way it is expressed in the Bible, in the level of obligation set up for it, and in the details

of its practice, it is an expression of the Biblical ideal that people carry an element of the

Divine in their persons, and that that Image must be respected even after death.

Summary of Building a Family

The urge to propagate inheres in our biological natures, meaning that it would

need little legislation to insure that it would occur. Our analysis of the timeless and
286
Women are not hanged, as noted but not explained in bSotah 23b.
179

universal positive commandments related to family-building has shown that the Torah,

indeed, did not simply codify a basic human urge.

Proper propagation-- which the Torah sees as an act of imitatio Dei, continuing

God’s world as a whole or at least the human species—takes place within the context of a

marriage entered into as a permanent union, and formalized as such. That marriage is

placed on solid foundations by having couples intensively engage with each other in their

first year together, presumably so that their children will arrive to two people fully united

with each other.

Marking his awareness of the importance of his relationship with God to his life

in general and to his bearing and raising children in particular, the father imprints on his

sons the sign of the covenant with God that created these obligations and that will help

them approach those obligations properly. The Jewish marriage, then, is about two

people uniting permanently to build a family that will continue God’s world, all as a sign

of connection to God.

That connection, fully realized, almost naturally leads to the obligation at the

other end of the life-cycle, that of burial. Yet burial, too, is not performed purely as an

act of family relationship, but as an act of respect towards the Divine within each person.

At each stage of family-building, the Torah takes natural impulses and imbues

them with religious elements. Women, we assumed, tend to recognize the importance of

family on their own and were therefore not included in these responsibilities; men are

being taught that family and children are not only ways to spread one’s own genes

around, but are ways to maintain the health of the world God created and wanted to

flourish.
180

With that, we have completed our study of the separate categories of mitsvot

within Maimonides’ list of sixty, leaving the need only to try to put the five separate

categories into a unified whole picture.


181

THE END

We set out to study Maimonides’ list of sixty positive commandments obligatory

on all male Jews in all times and places, 46 of which apply to women as well. We found,

on the male side of the equation, that more than half focused directly on building a

relationship with God, through obligations that either applied all the time or ones that

came into play only occasionally.

The ever-present commandments seek to insure that all Jews (male and female)

remember God throughout the year, with such mitsvot as believing in, loving, and fearing

God, and praying to Him daily. Another group of mitsvot turned the Jew’s thoughts to

God by instituting special days, generally accompanied by commandments to perform

specific acts that further strengthen the message of the day.

The several mitsvot which left women out were those that defined a person most

exactly. Women were obligated in the holiday of Rosh haShanah, but not the hearing of

shofar, the holiday of Sukkot but not the sitting in a sukkah or the shaking of a lulav, the

holidays of Pesah and Shavuot, but not the counting of the Omer that connects one to the

other. In each case, we noted the specificity of the self-definition implied by the

commandment’s requirements.

Similar reasoning applies to the mitsvot of Torah study and tefillin, perhaps the

most central mitsvot from which women were nonetheless exempt. As we explained,

each of those also made rigid demands upon the male Jew, demands many males today

fail to fulfill for one reason or other, but which further support our contention that it was

the element of rigidity the Bible meant to avoid in legislating for women.

The direct focus on God and the relationship with God occupied one half of the
182

list, but the other half fleshed out a Jewish life in important ways as well. First, we found

out that a relationship with priests was seen as a continuing part of a Jewish life, and that

some central practices of Judaism, such as repentance, have their roots in services that

originally occurred in the Temple.

Beyond that, we saw that the positive commandments having to do with food,

society, and family conveyed a different picture than we might have expected. The food

commandments focused surprisingly narrowly on insuring that the eating of once-live

creatures (animal, fish, birds, etc.) be a mindful experience, that the Jew eating that food

be aware of the permissibility of what was being ingested.

Some of the laws that applied to society as a whole, such as following the

majority, were relatively obvious although necessary choices. Others, though, revealed

great differences between Jewish society and others. The commandments to love other

Jews and converts showed that the society was meant to be a true fellowship among its

members, with each one appreciating the other’s contribution to the society as a whole.

The stress on respect for parents and wise men reminds Jews of the hierarchical element

of the expected society.

What I hope we have seen, and was the purpose of this writing, was that the

commandments of the Torah, as understood by Jewish tradition, do a great deal more

than just set up a series of obligations for Jews. They inherently convey a framework—

theological as much as practical—for a well-lived life.

That framework could be more fully elaborated in several ways. First, there are

many positive commandments that are applicable currently, but are not in Maimonides’

list of sixty. For some examples, the laws of economics—how to acquire possessions,
183

the responsibilities of those who watch objects for others, the rules of claims against

another, the rules of damages—still apply, but do not necessarily apply to every Jew,

since there is no requirement for a Jew to have economic interactions with other Jews.287

Second, we have not examined the prohibitions of Judaism, those that set a

baseline of appropriate behavior for a Jew, with all of its theological ramifications.

Finally, we have also not touched on the areas of Jewish law that do not yet apply for

lack of various conditions, but still give valuable insight into Judaism’s picture of the

ideal Jewish life and its meaning.

Nonetheless, we hope to have shown two important central aspects of Jewish

theology. First, we hope to have rejuvenated awareness of how Judaism envision the

central positive aspects of a religious life, with the lion’s share of religious effort going to

developing one’s relationship with God. Second, we hope to have shown how Judaism

differentiates between men and women, but does not discriminate between them. It was

to make these points clear that we have offered these considerations for your

consideration.

287
In addition, these laws are more prone to adaptation than others, since halakhah
accepts the right to be matneh al mah she-katuv ba-Torah, to set up personal conditions
to handle financial matters differently than as ordained by the Torah, see for example,
Hoshen Mishpat 296;5.

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