MANY NEW SHIURIM!

 INCLUDING THIS!

Controversy Over YU's Choice Of Commencement Speaker

YU invited Mike Huckabee to give the commencement address at their graduation. As last year when they invited Elise Stefanik, this elicited a protest from left wing professors who were not happy with a pro-Trumper being invited. But the invitation was not rescinded. They said that he is a polarizing figure. Indeed. Pro Hamas people [and left wing professors at universities] hate him while people who are in favor of the existence of the Jewish people and a Jewish State are supporters. Basic Hakaras Hatov mandates that we acknowledge him.

In his *drasha*, he was mechavein to a Rashi. He said that when people hate the Jews they really hate the G-d of the Jews. He also encouraged the students to be proud Jews. He further emphasized that his whole faith system as a Christian is predicated on Judaism and expressed his thanks. I have never heard a Christian thank Jews for their religion. He also spoke movingly about the Holocaust. A non-Jew who really feels for our loss. כן ירבו. Not to mention the work he did to have the hostages freed. [We should also not forget the איסור of לא תחנם].   

It is quite jarring to think how many pro-Israel right wing conservative thinkers have views closer to Torah than most assimilated Jews. Jews should take mussar from him not to forget our past and to be open, proud Jews.    

Keep Your Mind Pure

The podcast I mentioned yesterday about the singer who reveals the sordid details of his childhood abuse [which, again, I did not and will not watch] - over 24,000 people [all Jews who understand Hebrew] who have willingly dragged their minds and souls in the gutter in just the first day the video was publicized. 

ולמזהיר ולנזהר שלומים תן כימי נהר.  

Celebrate Pride Month With These Inspiring Tanach Psukim About Pride

It's Pride Month again, making this the perfect time of year to see what inspirational passages can be found in Hashem's Word that pertain to the subject.

Kick your pride up a notch and pass these comforting verses on to the gays you might know:

Genesis 19:24-25: "Then the Lord rained on Sodom and Gomorrah sulfur and fire from the Lord out of heaven. And he overthrew those cities, and all the valley, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and what grew on the ground."

Leviticus 18:22: "You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination."

Leviticus 20:13: "If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them."

Job 35:12: "There they cry out, but he does not answer, because of the pride of evil men."

Proverbs 8:13: "The fear of the Lord is hatred of evil. Pride and arrogance and the way of evil and perverted speech I hate."

Proverbs 16:18: "Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall."

Daniel 4:37: "Now I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise and extol and honor the King of heaven, for all his works are right and his ways are just; and those who walk in pride he is able to humble."

Jill Biden Assures Nation Joe’s Old Age Did Not Hamper Her Ability To Serve As President

U.S. — While making media appearances to promote her new book, Dr. Jill Biden assured the nation that her husband's old age did not in any way hamper her ability to serve as president.

Appearing on MSNBC's Morning Joe to talk about her highly anticipated book, A View from the East Wing, the former first lady was adamant that former President Joe Biden's advanced age and significant decline in cognitive ability did not prevent her from carrying out her duties as leader of the free world.

"I was fully able to carry out all my duties as leader," she said. "I know everyone was concerned that Joe's decrepit age and the fact that he seemed to be near death at all times, but that fact is that I was not prevented from serving as president at any point during my four years in the Oval Office. I'm grateful that we had a highly qualified staff that kept Joe occupied and cared for while I got all my work done as president."

Sources from the Biden White House confirmed that Joe's declining health during the Biden years did not keep Jill from faithfully executing the office of President of the United States. "Jill remained hard at work as president at all times," one insider said. "No matter how bad things got with Joe — and trust me, they got bad — Jill remained steadfast and committed to serving the country as president."

At publishing time, Jill Biden had also confirmed that the fact that she had no medical training never prevented her from passing herself off as a medical doctor.

Heschel, Intuition, and the Halachah

In the drab landscape of contemporary American Jewish thought, the writings of Professor Abraham Joshua Heschel stand out. His works are fresh and vital, casting light where it is sorely needed and helping us achieve a renewed understanding of what it means to be a Jew. Yet, certain points in his philosophy of religion and of Judaism require revision—or, at least, a shift in emphasis. This brief essay examines his position to see whether it is ultimately sound and whether it accords with the main body of classic rabbinic teaching. [This essay is based on Heschel’s book, *God in Search of Man* (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1956). All quotations, unless otherwise noted, are from this volume.]

---

I. The Problem of Intuition as a Method

Philosophy of religion, according to Heschel, is concerned with clarifying and validating the claims of particular faiths. If we are to validate religious insights, however, we must have a reliable method. The only method Dr. Heschel offers us is intuition. He explicitly rejects the claim that religious truth can be established by empirical techniques or discursive reason. The existence of God, revelation, divine providence in history, and the uniqueness of human nature—none of these can be established by external observation or logical demonstration. Our certainties about these matters depend entirely on direct intuition.

The most common objection to any intuition-based theory is that it offers no reliable way to distinguish between genuine perceptions of a higher reality and mere delusions or hallucinations. How can we be certain whether a given intuition is a authentic prophetic vision or the aberration of a madman? Dr. Heschel notes this difficulty and attempts to resolve it by asserting that the individual who undergoes a true experience of the divine is so completely overpowered by the vision that they are rendered incapable of doubt.

This, however, is not a solution to the problem; it is an avoidance of it. It fails to provide an objective criterion by which an outside observer—or even the subjective individual upon reflection—can distinguish between genuine revelation and psychological delusion.

          HESCHEL'S PARADOX OF RELIGIOUS INTUITION

          

   [ Intuitive Claim ] ----------> [ Absolute Subjective Certainty ]

           |                                       |

           v                                       v

  How do we validate it?                  "Incapable of doubt"

           |                                       |

           +-------------------> ✗ [ FAILS OBJECTIVE CRITERION TEST ]

                                   Result: Theological Chaos

```

Furthermore, this problem creates a vulnerability in the marketplace of competing, contradictory religious ideas. If an appeal to intuition justifies one specific doctrine, it can be used with equal success to justify any other. The net result is an intolerable theological chaos—an environment that provides fertile ground for the saccharine inanities of the modern "goodwill" movement.

Must we admit the equal validity of every religious doctrine that bases itself on internal intuition? As Jews, we are bound to insist on the truth of our own tradition and reject any view that contradicts it. Devout Christians find themselves in precisely the same position regarding their own articles of faith. But on what ground do we make such a selection? Is there any element in the intuitive experience itself that proves our intuitions are correct and all others are false? Can any persuasive argument be formulated in favor of one specific set of intuitions over another?

Additionally, a religion that depends primarily on intuition restricts itself to a very small segment of mankind. Great spiritual sensitivity is rare. What are we to do with the vast majority of people who are neither prophets nor the sons of prophets?

According to rabbinic tradition, during the revelation at Sinai, even the untutored handmaidens witnessed greater prophetic visions than the prophet Ezekiel would experience in later generations. But we, the Jews of this age, do not possess this rare prophetic gift. Flashes of insight, moments of spiritual exaltation, and soul-shattering visions are unavailable to most of us. A conception of religion rooted entirely in such experiences automatically restricts the realm of faith to a small spiritual elite.

Professor Heschel believes that "the supreme problem in any philosophy of Judaism... is: what are the grounds for believing in the realness of the living God?" He asks whether man is capable of discovering such grounds. According to his analysis, there are three pathways of reliable intuition that lead man to God: sensing His presence in the world, sensing His presence in the Bible, and sensing His presence in sacred deeds. But each of these three ways is open only to the person who is *already* responsive to the reality of God; they offer little help to the skeptic.

If one looks at the world with spiritual eyes closed, one sees nothing of religious significance. A person who already conceives of the world as a divine creation will find evidence of divinity throughout nature and history. However, a mind that finds in nature nothing but matter and motion, and views man as merely another animal in the natural order, will not achieve religious insight through this route. To see the sublime in the world, one must already possess the eyes of faith. There is no evidence that men achieve that faith simply by inspecting the physical world.

The proposal that men can find God in the Bible involves a similar difficulty. The reader who approaches the text convinced of its divinity will find their religious awareness deepened and intensified by its study. But what reason have we to hope that a reader who denies the divinity of the Bible will find their way to God through its pages?

All that Professor Heschel writes about the divine character of the Scripture is convincing only to those who already agree with his premises. There is a tacit recognition of this fact in his almost too-vigorous defense of the text. His arguments repeatedly beg the question by presupposing what they set out to prove.

A typical example is his basic claim that a failure to respond to the Bible testifies to the limitations of the reader, not the book:

"No sadder proof can be given by a man of his own spiritual opacity than his insensitiveness to the Bible... We accept it because in approaching it our own splendid ideas turn pale, because even indisputable proofs appear vulgar at the sound of prophetic words... Ultimately, then, we do not accept the Bible because of reasons, but because if the Bible is a lie all reasons are a fake."

True as we believe these claims to be, they do not constitute a logical argument. Men who stand outside the world of the Bible will only be perplexed or enraged by such absolute demands. Examining those same pages, they often discover nothing more than a collection of ancient superstitions and errors. To them, belief in the literal divinity of the Bible is evidence of a shallow intelligence or a weak character. Exchanging epithets will not solve this problem, nor will vociferous reassertions of our counterclaims.

We who have found light in the Bible must acknowledge our dependence on an antecedent faith. Through this faith, we sense the presence of God in the sacred words. But the Bible cannot serve as a pathway to God for those who approach it without religious faith to begin with.

The third of Professor Heschel's pathways—discovering God through the performance of sacred deeds—suffers from the exact same circularity. At first glance, it appears that even those outside the world of faith might discover God through action. No matter what they think or believe, they can act as if they believe, echoing the Sinai covenant of *Na'aseh v'Nishma* (נעשה ונשמע — "We will do and we will understand"). As Heschel puts it:

"A Jew is asked to take a leap of action rather than a leap of thought. He is asked to surpass his needs, to do more than he understands in order to understand more than he does... Through the ecstasy of deeds he learns to be certain of the hereness of God. Right living is a way to right thinking."

Yet this road, too, can lead to religious conviction only if it presupposes some measure of prior commitment. If a person performs commandments (*mitzvot*) without any sense of their transcendent significance, how can those mechanical actions lead them to God?

Indeed, in his later exposition of the mitzvot, Dr. Heschel himself argues impressively against mere mechanical performance, which reduces the religious life to a behaviorist "sacred physics." A "leap of action" must be religiously motivated if it is to lead to an awareness of God. As Dr. Heschel admits, "At the beginning is the commitment, the supreme acquiescence." Without that initial commitment of faith, a person is highly unlikely to undertake the performance of sacred deeds at all; and if they do, the acts risk becoming empty postures devoid of spiritual effect.

This brings us to the point that must be stressed above all: **we cannot depend on direct, subjective intuition as our primary theological foundation.** Perhaps this is what Rabbi Yochanan meant when he taught that since the destruction of the Holy Temple, prophecy was taken away from the prophets and given to madmen and children (*Baba Batra 12b*). Sober men know how utterly unreliable raw intuitions can be. Those who view themselves as having unmediated insight into ultimate truth too often turn out to be victims of delusion. Professor Heschel’s position would be far sounder if he consistently placed his primary emphasis on the initial act of faith—on "the supreme acquiescence."

Contemporary Jews come to live a life of Torah-loyalty in one of two ways. Some simply accept the entire tradition as valid because they received it from parents and teachers. For them, there are no serious personal or intellectual obstacles to a Torah-true life; their faith is firm, and it is not to them that Professor Heschel addresses his writings.

Our special concern is the perplexed and searching Jew. This individual will never be persuaded to live as a Jew by an appeal to religious intuitions they do not possess and cannot comprehend. Instead of being asked to look for mystical evidences of God in nature or the Bible, they must be confronted with the ultimate existential challenge: **the challenge to find meaning in their own life.**

They must be forced to see that without God and His Torah, human beings are ultimately reduced to animals and automata. Our faith does not derive from personal prophetic visions; it is forced upon us as the only alternative to forfeiting our very humanity. Only when we recognize the depth of our own existential need are we ready, in faith, to pass beyond the limits of discursive knowledge. We affirm that *"In the beginning God created"* because we recognize that to deny God means to intellectually and spiritually destroy ourselves.

Armed with this antecedent faith, we are endowed with a heightened awareness that makes the evidence of God's presence in nature and history apparent. With this faith, we can discover the divine truth hidden in each letter of sacred Scripture. Not in vain did Maimonides set down as the very first principle in his *Mishneh Torah* the intellectual obligation to know that God exists and is the source of all being. Without this conviction, there can be no religious thought, no religious intuition, and no religious action.

In summary, our difference with Professor Heschel on this point is one of direction: he suggests that intuition is the pathway to faith; we argue that faith must precede intuition. This view is far more consistent with the post-exilic Jewish tradition, which viewed the age of prophecy as ended, and offers a more realistic approach to the religious dilemma of the contemporary Jew.

---

II. The Supremacy of Halakhah over Aggadah

Dr. Heschel's philosophy of Judaism reflects his general philosophy of religion. The Judaism he sets forth is a religion of deep spiritual craving—an insatiable thirst for God. While he acknowledges and stresses the absolute importance of Halakhah (Jewish law), it is clear that he demands something beyond it.

"The meaningfulness of the mitzvot," he says, "consists in their being vehicles by which we advance on the road to spiritual ends." The clear implication is that the mitzvot themselves are insufficient for the elevation of man's spirit—that they are merely a means to a higher, mystical end. In fact, early in his book, Dr. Heschel affirms that "religion is, indeed, little more than a desiccated remnant of a once living reality when reduced to terms and definitions, to codes and catechisms."

There is little quarrel with the beautifully idealized representation of Judaism that Professor Heschel formulates. Any fair examination of authentic Jewish tradition will recognize that it seeks a disciplined life whose pattern is set by Halakhah, with the ultimate aim of bringing man close to God. But even among the most faithful and pious Jews, exalted spiritual moments are infrequent. One cannot shake the feeling that Professor Heschel overemphasizes this ecstatic dimension of the religious life, placing too little value on the ordinary routine of piety and demanding far too much spiritual fire from the ordinary Jew.

Is it necessary to go as far as Dr. Heschel does in his absolute requirement of spontaneity, burning religious feeling, and inner devotion? Must we scorn the quiet piety of the vast numbers of meticulously observant Jews simply because their practice is often routine and mechanical?

Does such a view of Judaism not inadvertently grant validity to the old, polemical charge that the letter of the law kills while the spirit gives life? Despite Dr. Heschel's repeated affirmations of the need for Halakhah, his structural qualifications and restrictions of its place ultimately undermine the effectiveness of his stand.

Classic Jewish tradition devoted its major intellectual efforts to the development of Halakhah without qualification or apology. Judaism recognized that while man may be commanded to act in a certain way, he cannot be commanded to *feel* in a certain way; actions can be regulated, but not spontaneous thoughts or emotions. A Jew who lives faithfully in accordance with Halakhah has done all that can be asked of them. Whenever a person acts in response to a mitzvah, they draw close to God—even if they never experience a mystical flash, and even if they never know the inner anguish of craving for the divine presence. Professor Heschel consistently underestimates the intrinsic worth of this prosaic fulfillment of the divine commandments.

While we applaud the skill with which he explicates and defends the often-neglected world of Aggadah (homiletic and narrative tradition), this enthusiasm seems to have blinded him to the unique structural place of Halakhah in Judaism. According to Dr. Heschel, "Halakhah does not deal with the ultimate level of existence." He writes:

"The law does not create in us the motivation to love and to fear God, nor is it capable of endowing us with the power to overcome evil and to resist its temptations, nor with the loyalty to fulfill its precepts. It supplies the weapons; it points the way; the fighting is left to the soul of man."

The greatest Jewish sages were, of course, cognizant of the importance of Aggadah, and many made brilliant contributions to it. Nevertheless, they consistently centered the bulk of their study and existential concern on Halakhah. This preference indicates that they found within the legal matrix far more than Professor Heschel does. They were convinced that Halakhah *does* deal directly with the ultimate level of existence. They understood that Halakhah is more than a dry legal code and that halakhic study is more than intricate mental gymnastics. Through Halakhah, Judaism grasped and crystallized the profoundest religious insights into a clear, communicable, and democratic form.

Dr. Heschel fails to appreciate this when he attacks "pan-halakhic theology" as "a view which exalts the Torah only because it discloses the law, not because it discloses a way of finding God in life." To the contrary, normative Jewish tradition has always taught that Halakhah is the *only* universally reliable way of finding God in life.

```

       THE DEMOCRATIC BRIDGE OF HALAKHAH

       

  [ Rare Mystical Insight ]  --> Only accessible to the spiritual elite (Heschel)

            |

            v

     { THE HALAKHAH }        --> Translates the ineffable into concrete actions

            |

            v

  [ The Everyday Jew ]       --> Meets God face-to-face via daily mitzvot

```

In Halakhah, Judaism bridges the gap between the individual of rare spiritual genius and the rest of the community. The great religious insights, which are ordinarily restricted to those of prophetic sensitivity, are made real and available through the law to every Jew in all the ordinary circumstances of daily life.

Heschel notes this problem himself, writing:

"Insights are not a secure possession; they are vague and sporadic; they are like divine sparks, flashing up before us and becoming obscure again, and we fall back into a darkness almost as black as that in which we were before."

Because he sees clearly that we cannot rest within such fleeting moments, Professor Heschel asks the most earnest questions:

"The problem is: How to communicate those rare moments of insight to all the hours of our life? How to commit intuition to concepts, the ineffable to words, insight to rational understanding? How to convey our insights to others and to unite in a fellowship of faith?"

Surely Dr. Heschel must admit that the historic Jewish answer to these questions has always been an unwavering reliance on Halakhah. Given the vagueness and insecurity of our moments of insight, they must be translated into concrete terms related to man's physical life to survive. This is precisely what Halakhah achieves. It is the objectification of Israel's collective religious experience—a concrete expression, in human terms, of those elusive truths granted through divine revelation and grasped by our choicest spirits.

The entire structure of Halakhah is the Jewish way of committing intuition to concepts, the ineffable to words, and insight to rational understanding. This is neither a rejection of religious thinking nor a derogation of theology. It is the insistence that these spiritual dimensions are already fully present inside the Halakhah itself.

In spite of his strictures, Dr. Heschel would surely grant that a talmudic discourse concerning "the ox that gored the cow" (*Bava Kama*) is not merely an arid discussion of ancient tort law. It is the Jewish way of objectifying the presence of God within the mundane aspects of daily life. Rabbi Elazar ben Chisma made this point eminently clear when he laid down the principle: **קנין ופתחי נדה הן הן גופי הלכות** (*"The laws of bird-offerings and the lifespans of purity are the very bodies of the Halakhot"* — *Avot 3:18*).

This is the view of the halakhic realm as an ideal world in which we meet God face-to-face. What seems impractical or irrelevant on the surface is shown within that world to be deeply meaningful; what seems mundane is transformed into the highest level of refinement. In his life and in his study, the halakhic Jew continually renews the essence of his being. Though he may have no personal mystical insights, he is always close to God, for it is the objectification of divine reality in Halakhah that stands at the center of Jewish life.

This explains the consistent priority that rabbinic tradition gave to halakhic literature as the supreme subject of study. How revealing is the talmudic observation that the study of sacred Scripture alone is only a partially satisfactory activity, while the most desirable of all intellectual pursuits is the study of Gemara:

"They who occupy themselves with the Bible alone are but of indifferent merit; with the Mishnah, are indeed meritorious... with the Gemara—there can be nothing more meritorious." (*Baba Metzia 33a*)

This teaches us that the rigorous legalisms of halakhic debate encompass all the divine beauty and wisdom of the Bible. Even more than this, divine revelation receives its most specifically concrete and crystallized form in halakhic discourse and decision-making.

However lovely and moving the flights of aggadic imagination may be, they lack the stability and clarity of Halakhah. Aggadah may inspire us, but only Halakhah can give sustainable direction to our actions. The need for aggadic inspiration is granted without question, but Aggadah remains effective only when channeled through halakhic discipline. God and man find each other by way of the bridge of halakhic study and action, for we have been taught: *"Since the day that the Temple was destroyed, the Holy One, blessed be He, has nothing in this world but the four cubits of Halakhah alone"* (*Berakhot 8a*). The world of Halakhah is the pure distillation of our authentic efforts to encounter the divine.

Repeatedly in his writings, Professor Heschel affirms this very point, only to back away from it out of an overarching fear of "pan-halakhism." It is this hesitation regarding the self-sufficient power of Halakhah that remains inconsistent with normative Jewish tradition. At his best, Dr. Heschel offers a superb exposition of the ultimate significance and ultimate claim of Jewish law. His philosophy of Judaism would be immeasurably strengthened if he held to his own halakhic insights with complete consistency.

Remember Miriam

The biblical Miriam, one of the great heroines of Jewish history, is ironically associated in a formal way with one regrettable episode of her noble and distinguished life. Speaking to her brother Aaron, she said something regarding their brother Moses and his relationship with his wife, although the Torah does not explicitly say what it was; there is much discussion as to how Miriam's comments constituted lashon hara, especially as they are considered a cautionary model for all of us. Many maintain that her offense was an assessment of Moses as comparable to others, without regard for his unique status, while others note that Miriam failed to extend the benefit of the doubt to Moses, and that is an aspect of lashon hara (see Netiv Chaim 8:2, Chafetz Chaim, Hil. Lashon Hara Klal 8, BMC 1, and Pachad Yitzchak, Shavuot, #3). Following this act, she was afflicted with tzara'at, and healed after Moses prayed on her behalf.

The incident with Miriam is central to an unusual commandment in the Torah. The verse (Deut. 24:9) states "Remember what the Lord your God did to Miriam on the way when you were leaving Egypt." Nachmanides, differing from Maimonides, argues this should be included in the list of 613 commandments (see Nachmanides, Deut. 25:17 and glosses to Sefer HaMitzvot, essin 7). The commentaries attribute a straightforward purpose to the imperative, to stem the inclination to lashon hara.

(One may consider it ironic that the Torah highlights the dangers of lashon hara by appearing to disparage and to perpetuate the memory of the discrediting of Miriam, especially considering her great stature.  See Nachmanides, Deut. 25:17, and also R. Aharon Kotler, Mishnat Rabbi Aharon al haTorah, pp. 343-344, and Chiddushei Torah of the  Satmar Rebbe, Deut. p. 10, as well as Chokhmah UMussar II, 340 , and Daliyut Yechezkel and LiMa’an Achai ViReai, both cited in Chakhmat HaMatzpun, Deut. (vol II) pp. 191-193 and Iyyunim BaParshah, Lev. pp 91-92. See also the discussion of this and related topics in VaYita Eishel to Arakhin, 96.See also R. Nissim Dayan, Peirot Genosar, p. 53, regarding the question of why Miriam was punished more severely than Moses himself was for a similar offense (Ex.4:1-7).)

 

However, this motive would seem to be insufficient basis for a dedicated commandment. There are hundreds of prohibitions in the Torah, and on the whole they exist without need for either cautionary tales or special commandments to remember those tales. The singling out of lashon hara for this type of support begs explanation.

R. Yitzchak Isaac Sher, the spiritual guide of the Slabodka Yeshiva, in his ethical discourses (Leket Sichot Musar, I, pp. 394-395), addresses this question by making reference to broad categories included in the rubric lashon hara under the title of avak lashon hara. This category includes not only the intentional disparagement of one's fellow, but even positive statements that unwittingly yield negative interpretations (Mishneh Torah, Hil. Deiot 7:4). One might question the fairness of such an inclusion. By definition, the speaker has benevolent intentions. To assume a prohibition in such a case would seem to pose a near impossible burden. It is possible, if difficult, to refrain from malicious commenting about others. However, if the speaker is unaware of the negative impact of his statements, how can he avoid the offense? Indeed, the Talmud (Bava Batra 164b-165a) states that all are guilty of at least avak lashon hara.

It is here that the unique risks inherent in lashon haraare in evidence, and justify the exceptional focus afforded by additional commandments and cautionary tales. Lashon hara is not a transgression one can avoid by simply deciding to refrain. It is the expression of a mindset, sometimes an active negativity and distortion of judgment, and sometimes a simple insensitivity and lack of appreciation. It may emerge from insufficient awareness of the unique nature of the other individual; of their particular sensitivities and frailties; of the impact of speech and the differences between the speaker and the listener; or of the cognitive biases and tendencies that transform words into weapons by the time they have reached their target.

All of this is not offset by a simple commitment. It requires forethought, internal reconditioning, training, and practice. There can be no greater reminder of this than the story of Miriam. Miriam, a woman of towering stature, with the best and purest of intentions, found herself inadvertently in violation of the value of lashon hara. Surely, others are no better equipped to avoid this transgression. The advantage available is the benefit of the story of Miriam, and all of the Torah literature that surrounds it: a cautionary message that this area of human interaction requires "remembrance," in the sense of extensive advance preparation (R. Reuven Schwartz, in the introduction to his Emek HaLashon, notes that while other commandments of "remembering" in the Torah demand discrete acts of recitation or the like, the commandment to remember Miriam appears to be a constant imperative of awareness, correlating to the ongoing challenge of lashon hara).

This reality may contribute to an understanding of a comment of the Rabbis (Yalkut Shimoni, Isaiah, remez 459, quoted by Rashi in his commentary to the Torah). In the Torah, the story of Miriam and her punishment is immediately followed by the episode of the spies who spoke negatively of the land of Israel. The Rabbis comment on the juxtaposition by noting that in their behavior, the spies failed to learn the lesson of Miriam.

The comment is difficult, because it seems to imply there was a message a fortiori; what Miriam did was bad, what the spies did was worse. However, instinct would point in the other direction; Miriam spoke about a human being, with feelings and emotions, while the spies sinned against land. In fact, the Talmud itself adopts this perspective, stating that the story of the spies instructs on the severity of lashon hara, as their punishment was for disparaging the land, and surely to speak badly of humans must therefore be far worse (Arakhin 15a).

It would seem, rather, that the Rabbis are making a different point. Miriam's transgression was indeed, in terms of the victim, worse than that of the spies. The lesson the spies should have learned was not that their disparagement of the land constituted an even more severe violation. The lesson actually had to do with the extreme complexity and challenges involved in addressing negativity through speech and thought. If Miriam, with her personal greatness and noble intentions, could still run afoul of this value, clearly a program of mental reorientation and proactive attitude adjustment is necessary.

An instructive comparison may come, perhaps unexpectedly, from the laws of kiddush on Friday night. When this ritual is performed over wine, the practice is to cover the challah breads. The Talmud and commentators (Talmud Yerushalmi, cited in Tur, O.C. 271, and see Ohr Zarua, Hil. Shabbat II, 22) offer a number of possible explanations, one of which is striking. By law, kiddush could have been recited over the challah; in this case, the kiddush is being recited on the wine. Accordingly, the challah breads are covered so they not "witness" their losing this honor to the wine and thus be "embarrassed."

This attribution of human feelings to pastry is difficult to understand. Is there truly concern that inanimate objects will experience humiliation? It seems, rather, that the concern is to the complexity of human emotion. Determining what will or will not have hurtful consequences to another is a highly involved enterprise, one that does not come easily to the untrained intuition. To assume that undeveloped instinct will rise to the challenge of the moment is dangerous; offense can occur even unintentionally, when the speaker is unpracticed in the nuances of human sensitivity. Thus, even interactions with inanimate objects are viewed as opportunities to hone the awareness necessary to deal with actual people. Being cognizant of a "slight" to challah will, it is hoped, ensure awareness of the risk involved when a human is in such a situation.

The obligation to remember Miriam, then, is to train oneself in sensitivity in advance, so that when a situation presents itself, there is a hope that the challenge will be negotiated successfully. This, then, is the lesson that the spies failed to learn. Immediately after Miriam's punishment, to indulge a biased negativity in evaluating the land of Israel was a complete rejection of the moral message.

An analysis of the prohibition of lashon hara reveals two components, the practice of harmful speech, and the corresponding malevolence of spirit. These two elements possess a sort of negative synergy; the character trait makes the harmful effect more likely, and practicing the offense nurtures the malicious nature. While one or the other may dominate as the focus of the prohibition, it is difficult to escape from the interconnectedness of the two.

The commandment to remember Miriam is a reminder of this negative loop. It is impossible to extricate oneself from the behavior of lashon hara without addressing its accompanying mentality. The mentality, in turn, is developed and fed by the behavior. Maimonides, who declined to list this precept as an actual commandment, nonetheless does appear to understand it that way, when he details, in the laws of the impurity conferred by tzara'at (Hil. Tumat Tzara'at 16:10), the nature of lashon hara as an escalating pattern, in which one who expresses negativity towards others builds on this tendency until ultimately he disparages God himself.

The authoritative commentary to the code of Jewish law known as the Magen Avraham (Orach Chaim 60:2) quotes a suggestion that the blessing recited prior to the daily recitation of the shma prayer contains allusions to various commandments in the Torah directed at remembering. The commandment to remember Miriam, according to this, is hinted at in the words "to offer praiseful thanks to you" (lihodot likha). The explanation provided is that the mouth was created to give praise to God, not to speak lashon hara. Another interpretation, though, may be suggested. One who indulges in negative attitudes will, as Maimonides warns, grow increasingly cynical, and ultimately lose the instinct to be thankful to God.

It is noteworthy that one interpretation in the Midrash(Sifra, Lev. 26:3; see also Nachmanides, Deut. 24:9) of the commitment to remember Miriam and how it is to be implemented practically is that it constitutes an imperative to study the relevant laws. While the notion of study as a form of remembrance is a recurring theme in the Torah, in this instance it seems to have particular significance. When the Talmud identifies Torah study as the only true corrective, on a personal level, to lashon hara, it seems that it is not referring to the general purifying aspects of Torah study that are discussed elsewhere.

Rather, the intent here is to recognize that lashon harais addressed on both a behavioral level and an attitudinal level. To be successful in this realm, one must work to understand and internalize the principles involved in lashon hara and its related precepts. There were and are Torah scholars who nonetheless stumble in the area of lashon hara, despite their great learning. This phenomenon was addressed by some of the authorities who gave written approbations to the volume Chafetz Chaim. They asserted that it is not general Torah study that is effective in this role, but specifically the focus on the laws of lashon hara, its underlying principles and concepts, coupled with personal commitment, that can bring about the shift in personality that is required (see the approbation of the rabbinic court judges of Vilna, R. Yosef and R. Betzalel HaKohen, to Chafetz Chaim, and R. Yisrael Salanter, Iggeret HaMussar, s.v. hanisgav).

The Rabbis (Midrash Rabbah, Parashat Metzora 16:2, and in Yalkut Shimoni, Psalms ch. 52 (remez 767), and a different version, involving R. Alexandri, can be found in the Babylonian Talmud, Avodah Zarah 19b) tell a story about a peddler who would travel through the towns near Tzippori, calling out, "Who wants to buy the elixir of life?" When a crowd gathered, he would open the book of Psalms and read to them the verses of King David: "Who is the person who desires life, who loves days, to see good? Guard your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking deceit. Turn from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it" (Tehillim 34:13-15). Rabbi Yosef Zvi Dushinsky (Torat Maharitz to Lev.) explained the usage here of the word "deceit." One will only see the promise of that verse if one is able to bring the mind, the heart, and the mouth into sync with each other. A disconnect between them, a mind that is "deceitfully" judging one's fellow negatively while outwardly praising him, will ultimately express its disparaging sentiment outwardly, even if it is initially concealed.

Thus, this prototypical "Jewish" mitzvah is, perhaps also typically, a fusion of personality and practice, one that by its very nature demands an integration of mind, manner, and message. Thus, it is understandable that study has taken such a central role in the realization of this religious precept. Fully manifesting the Torah's vision of a just, responsible and compassionate citizen demands a lifetime commitment to learning, understanding, and growing.

Furthermore, the unique demands and balances of lashon hara require even greater awareness and sensitivity. Making appropriate decisions in this area involves a constant recognition of the competing and sometimes conflicting needs of avoiding malicious speech on the one hand and protecting the innocent and the positive functioning and development of society on the other. More often than not, there is no clear-cut, easily provided answer to the quandaries that arise in this area, no simple guideline or slogan that will reduce the complexity of the issue. A refined appreciation for all of the relevant values and a sophisticated knowledge and understanding of the applicable principles and precepts is a necessary foundation to approach these areas responsibly.

Much harm is done if those who could protect the innocent fail to do so because of misguided conceptions of lashon hara; similarly, much devastation can be inflicted by those who would speak with malice or insensitivity, cloaked in either a false or mistaken veneer of purpose and necessity. The fact that either mistake can be defended by pointing to either value is irrelevant. In this as with all areas of life, the person is responsible for the quality of his judgment calls. This means, in turn, that the person is responsible for the substance of that judgment; to ensure that it is built upon solid knowledge, sensitivity, perspective, wisdom, and maturity. To some, this was actually the main lesson of the peddler; the life that is desired by he who "loves days" is obtained not through simple abstinence, but through the awareness born of constant study. This requires a lifetime of living and learning and is a mission that is never complete.

When the Torah included the prohibition of talebearing in the same verse as the mandate to protect the victimized (Lev. 19:16: "Do not go as a talebearer among your people; do not stand idly by the blood of your fellow; I am God"), it closed the verse with the words "I am God." Rabbinic tradition teaches that there are specific moments when the Torah finds it necessary to remind us of God's presence. It is at those times when nobility of behavior and righteousness of deed is concealed from outside observers, when either poor judgment or maliciousness of intent can be hidden behind a credible excuse, that the actor is told to remember that God is watching. Yes, the verse contains two competing mandates that demand balance and judgment; however, this does not mean that all decisions are equally valid, but rather that the burden is on the actor to ensure that God's wisdom and command is deeply infused into the discretionary process (see Pitchei Teshuvah, Orach Chaim 156).

The 16th century rabbinic authority Rabbi Shlomo Luria, known as the Maharshal, described his daily ritual in his work of responsa (Responsa Maharshal 64). He noted that every day, after reciting the blessing on learning Torah, he immediately followed with a representative selection of Torah content. To represent scripture, he recited a passage of three consecutive verses, which he considered "equal to the entire Torah." This set was comprised of the verses beginning with "love your neighbor" and ending with the verse prohibiting talebearing, the verse of the peddler.

Perhaps, one can understand how even this verse alone may contain principles representative of the entire Torah. The Talmud teaches that the defining values of the Torah are summarized in one verse from the book of Micah (Micah 6:8): "It has been told to you, O Man, what is good, and what the Lord requires of you: only to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk modestly with your God." The mandate not to travel "as a talebearer" has given directives including all of these principles. It has taught respect for privacy, the essence of modesty; it has taught true empathy and identification with the needs of others, their uniqueness, and their sensitivities, the essence of compassion; and it has taught the need to genuinely weigh all relevant factors, realities, and variables in judgment of others, and to balance them against the basic needs of the innocent and of society in general, the essence of justice.

The focus that has emerged in recent years on the study of the laws of lashon hara is a profound gift. A life devoted to understanding and refining commitment to these principles is a life of ever expanding sensitivity, of ever growing awareness, of ever increasing appreciation of the complexity of humanity. It is a constant attention to the most fundamental needs of others, in all of their diversity and nuance. It is a lifelong course in the finest points of interpersonal interaction. It is a mindset that forces the trivialities of life to recede and to fade, while directing attention towards the genuine priorities of life, whatever they may be. It is a recognition of the endless capacity to grow, to improve, and to transcend a history of mistakes or misjudgments. It is an affirmation that humans must not be painted by the brush of their worst moments, and that the full picture of an individual will always be so much more than any other person can grasp at any moment. It is, in essence, to derive infinite potential through perceiving that potential in others.

There is a tradition of texts and teachings that can guide in developing the personalities necessary to give expression to these values. One cannot guarantee that the answers will be the right ones, but one can commit to a process that is honest, informed, compassionate, and responsible. One can be the grateful beneficiary of the legacy that was commanded by the Torah and expressed by King David, the rabbinic literature, the Chafetz Chaim, and all who shared in their vision. As the peddler promised, if one truly desires a life of love and goodness, there is a path; the first step towards walking on it is to see it there, waiting.