By Rabbi Joshua (suspiciously known as The Hoffer) Hoffman z"l [the 9th of Iyar is Rabbi Hoffman's yahrtzeit]
Proceeding with its prescription for holiness, the Torah presents us, in one verse, with several directives that all seem to fit into one context. We are told, “You shall not commit a perversion of justice, you shall not favor the poor, and you shall not honor the great; with righteousness shall you judge your fellow” (Vayikra 19:15). All of these directives seem to be addressed to judges within the context of rendering a legal decision. They are told not to pervert justice and not to favor a poor person in any particular case simply because he is poor, nor to similarly favor the great, and, in a kind of summation, to rule our fellow with righteousness, as Rashi explains in his first comment on the final phrase of the verse.
Rashi, however, offers a second explanation of the final phrase, which is that we should judge our fellow favorably. As Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch points out, this seems to contradict the earlier parts of the verse, which directs judges to rule according to the strict dictates of the law. Rav Hirsch says that, actually, there is no contradiction, because judging our fellow favorably is something that must be done in a social context, rather than in a judicial one. We may add that when taken in this sense, the phrase is connected, not to the earlier part of the verse, but to the verse that follows, which reads, “You shall not be a gossip-mongerer among your people, you shall not stand aside while your fellow’s blood is being shed; I am the Lord,” (Vayikra 19:16). This verse, I believe, when connected to the last phrase of the previous verse, as understood by Rashi and Rav Hirsch, can be seen as a prescription for building a healthy society, when in an expanded sense, as I once heard explained by Rav Aharon Lichtenstein.
Rav Lichtenstein suggested that one aspect of judging people favorably is to set up a sense of trust in society. We are well aware of societies in which there prevails an atmosphere of mistrust, where eavesdropping and even spying are commonplace, and where people are persecuted and imprisoned for mere suspicion of subversive activity, without any proof being offered. Sadly, this kind of atmosphere has existed, at certain points in history, even in the United States, and has still not totally vanished. Gossip-mongering contributes to this kind of atmosphere, as well, and needs to be prevented in order to build a healthy society in which people are free to develop themselves in a positive way without fear of being denounced out of suspicion. Involvement in other people’s affairs in a healthy society should be focused on helping one’s fellow when in need, as directed by the prohibition of standing by while his blood is being spilled. This directive applies, according to halacha, to cases of financial loss, as well. The starting point of crafting such an atmosphere in society is to judge one’s fellow favorably, and it is in that context that Rashi’s second comment can be best understood.
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A Tree in the Forest
By Rabbi Joshua (woodenly known as The Hoffer) Hoffman
In this week's parsha we are commanded, "With righteousness shall you judge your friend " (Vayikra 19:15). Rashi explains that this verse is to be understood, first of all, in a literal sense, but also as a directive to judge our friend toward the scale of merit, as the Talmud tells us. This directive is more commonly known as giving the benefit of the doubt. Exactly what it entails is the subject of a dispute among medieval halachic authorities, but most follow the opinion that, when dealing with a person who is known to be righteous in his behavior, we must judge even acts that he does which appear to be of a questionable nature as being done in accordance with halacha.
Rabbi Dovid Kronglass, who was the masghiach ruchani, or spiritual adviser, of Yeshivas Ner Yisroel in Baltimore, asked, how can we be required to think in a way that is counter - logical. If all appearances lead us to the conclusion that the person we are observing is, in fact, transgressing the Torah, why should we be required to assume against our own reason that, in actuality, he is acting properly? Rabbi Kronglass himself answers that the Torah wishes to inculcate within us a sympathetic intellect, one that looks upon others with kindness rather than with strictness. I would like to offer a different explanation, in light of a prohibition contained in the immediately following verse of the Torah.
The words immediately following the command to judge our friend with righteousness, in the next verse, are "You shall not go about gossiping among your people" (Vayikra 19:16). One may ask, why should it be forbidden to speak disparagingly about other people, if what one is saying happens to be true. On the contrary, it should be considered a mitzvoh to inform someone of what his friend is really like, to correct any wrong impression that he has. Withholding information about the person, it would seem, can only be misleading. Why, then, is there a prohibition to gossip, to spread reports abut other people?
Rabbi Yochonon Zweig, Rosh Yeshiva in Miami Beach, explained that the perception we have of a person actually defines the reality of that person for us. If someone tells us bad things about that person, he is destroying that reality. It is in this sense that the Talmud says that leshon hora, evil talk, kills three - the one who speaks it, the one who accepts it, and the one of whom it is spoken. Since the person's reality is shaped by the way people perceive him to be, spreading evil talk about him changes that perception and thus changes his reality both in regard to himself and in regard to all those involved in spreading the gossip.
Rabbeinu Yonah, in his Sha'arei Teshuvoh, or Gates of Repentance, writes that as part of the teshuvoh process, we need to examine all of our deeds, including the mitzvos that we did, to see if there was anything lacking in our performance of them. While doing so can be very helpful in correcting one's behavior and personality, it can also be taken to an extreme and lead one to overly negative feelings about himself. As a kind of corrective to negative feelings that may arise as a result of introspection, Rav Nachman of Bratslav taught that one should also examine his failings, his transgressions, for any traces of good hidden within them. The rabbis tell us that if we see a Torah scholar performing a transgression at night, we can assume that by the next day, he repented for it. When one repents out of love for God, the rabbis further tell us, his transgressions are counted as merits. Perhaps the idea behind this is that if the transgression that he performed led to repentance and a closer relationship with God, then there must have been some element of good in the original act.
Based on our analysis, we can understand the predominant opinion among halachic authorities that when we see an otherwise righteous person perform an act that appears to be forbidden, we need to examine the act and try to interpret in a positive way. The reason for this, perhaps, is that in all likelihood there is some positive element in that act. Our interpretation of the act in this way thus actually defines the nature of the act as far as our perception of the one performing it is concerned. Following Rabbi Zweig's explanation of the dynamics of lashon hora, our perception of this person actually defines his reality for us. Judging a person on the scale of merit, therefore, does not constitute a distortion of reality, but, rather, a view of reality that focuses on the positive aspects of the person we are observing.
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Now I Know the World Was Made for Me
By Rabbi Joshua (universally known as The Hoffer) Hoffman
As mentioned in our netvort to this parsha last year, the midrash (Vayikra Rabbah, 24) says that parshas Kedoshim presents us with a restatement of the Ten Commandments, or the Decalogue, albeit with some significant divergences from the first version. For example, in parshas Yisro, we are told to honor our parents, and in parshas Kedoshim we are told to fear them. In both cases, however, the commandment regarding parents is juxtaposed to a command to observe Shabbos. Apparently, there is some connection between Shabbos observance and filio-piety. Our remarks will be directed toward discovering what that connection may be.
The author of the medieval work Sefer HaChinuch writes that the rationale behind the obligation to honor one's parents is gratitude to them for having brought him into this world and taken care of his needs as he was growing up. Rabbi Chaim Elazari, z'l, of Canton, Ohio, points out that this rationale is fine for someone who is happy with his life situation. Many people, however, are not happy with their station in life, and often feel that perhaps it would have be better had they not been born. For example, Mark Twain, who underwent many hardships in his life, wrote in his autobiography that his aunt once saved him from drowning, and he never forgave her for it! Moreover, many people feel, rightly or wrongly, that their parents were in some way inadequate for their needs, and that they were therefore not given the opportunities in life that they should have received. How can we expect such people to have a feeling of gratitude to their parents for bringing them into the world? It is for this reason, writes Rabbi Elazari, that the obligation to observe Shabbos is mentioned immediately before the obligations to honor and fear one's parents. Observance of Shabbos is grounded in the belief that God created the world. Since God is good, and desires to benefit His creations, the world He created is good, and, therefore, a person needs to be grateful to his parents for bringing him into that world. While this explanation is certainly reasonable, I would like to offer a somewhat modified version of it to explain the connection between Shabbos observance and the obligations we have toward our parents.
The Mishnah in Sanhedrin tells us that man was created as a single individual to teach us that though God creates each individual in the form of the original Adam, no two people are exactly alike. Therefore, concludes the Mishnah, everyone is obligated to say that the world was created for him. The idea being expressed here is that every person has a distinct mission in life that only he can fulfill, and so, in a sense, the word really was created for him, so that he can fulfill that mission. This perspective gives added meaning to our observance of Shabbos. When we acknowledge God as the Creator of the universe, we are also saying that He created our particular world, in which we must accomplish our particular mission, a mission that no one else at any time in history could have fulfilled. Once a person realizes and accepts this, he will be grateful to his parents for having brought him into this world. He will also understand that those parents are precisely the parents he needed to raise him and prepare him to fulfill his unique task in life. Hence, he will not feel that he was deprived of any opportunities that he needed because his parents were not the kind of people he would have liked to have been born to. With this perspective in mind, we can readily understand why the verses commanding us to honor and fear our parents are preceded by a command to observe the Shabbos and thereby recognize that God created the world, or, more properly, our specific world.
Our understanding of the roles played by our parents in our lives will help explain an otherwise difficult opinion expressed by Rabbi Avraham Danzig in his halachic compendium, Chayei Adam. Rabbi Danzig writes that, as part of the obligation of honoring one's parents, a person must consider his parents to be great, honorable people, even if nobody else feels that way about them. How can one be obligated to believe something about his parent that is not acknowledged by anyone else? Must he then deny reality? In light or our explanation, however, this ruling makes perfect sense, because, in terms of the person's mission in life, his parents really are the greatest people in the world, because only they can provide him with the capacity to fulfill that mission. As Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, z'l, once put it, the obligation to honor one's parents entails viewing one's aging father or mother, residing in a nursing home and confined to a bed, unable to care for the most basic of bodily needs, as responsible for everything he ever accomplished. God, as the Creator of our personal world, provides each of us with the parents we need to prepare us for our role in that world.
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No End
By Rabbi Joshua (endlessly known as The Hoffer) Hoffman
This week's parsha, Kedoshim, begins with God telling Moshe, "speak to the entire assembly of the Children of Israel and say to them: 'You shall be holy, for holy am I, God, your Lord.' "(Vayikra 19:2). Rashi, citing the midrash, notes that from the fact that God told Moshe to address his remarks to the entire assembly of the people, we learn that this parsha was said at a gathering of the entire assembly of Israel, because most of the essentials of the Torah depend upon it. We need to understand what the midrash means by saying that most of the essentials of the Torah are included in this parsha, and why, because of this, it needed to be delivered before the entire nation.
Rabbi Gedalyohu Schorr, in his commentary Ohr Gedalyohu to parshas Kedoshim, cites the midrash as saying that parshas Kedoshim is a restatement, of the Decalogue - the Aseres Hadibros - known popularly as the Ten Commandments. For example, in the Decalogue we are told of our obligation to honor our parents, and in parshas Kedoshim we are told to fear our parents. The medieval commentator Chizkuni demonstrates how each of the mitzvos in the Decalogue is mentioned in parshas Kedoshim. According to Rabbi Schorr, the midrash is not only a restatement of the Decalogue, but an expansion of the mitzvos it contains. Just as the mitzvoh of fearing one's parents reveals that our obligation to our parents entails more than giving them honor, as was stated in the Decalogue, so too is this true of all the other mitzvos which it includes. Rav Saadia Gaon, as cited by Rashi to parshas Mishpotim (Shemos 23:12), writes - reflecting a statement of the rabbis in the Midrash Rabbah to parshas Naso - that, in fact, all of the six hundred thirteen mitzvos of the Torah are included in the Aseres Hadibros.
Rabbi Schorr, however, goes further and writes that this kind of expansion of scope of the mitzvos is characteristic not only of those mitzvos included in the Decalogue, but, on a broader level, it is characteristic of all the mitzvos of the Torah. This is so, he writes, because the parsha begins with a charge to the people to be holy, as God is holy. Ramban explains the term 'holy' as a need to add precautions in our observance of the mitzvos, separating ourselves even from items which, according to the strict letter of the law, are seemingly permitted. In short, we need to sanctify ourselves through that which is, strictly speaking, permitted. It is because the parsha begins with this mitzvoh, writes Rabbi Schorr, that it goes on to restate the Aseres Hadibros, thus showing that just as the Aseres Hadibros expand into other mitzvos, so must we expand each individual mitzvoh, in terms of our observance, in order to attain holiness.
The idea propounded by Rabbi Schorr, based on the Ramban, that we need to expand the scope of all the mitzvos, may reflect a response that the Rambam sent to a student, who wrote to him that he did not understand how he could recite, on Yom HaKippurim, the standard from of vidui, or 'confession,' since it includes many sins which he knows for a fact that he did not transgress. The Rambam answered his student that if he would truly understand what our obligation to God is, he would understand that he does, indeed, need to recite the full text of the vidui. This response of the Rambam reflects, in turn, a story told of Rav Saadia Gaon, who once visited a town, where he stayed overnight at an inn. The innkeeper, not knowing the identity of his guest, treated him very roughly. The next day, there was an announcement that Rav Saadia Gaon was in town and would be delivering a Torah lecture, or a shiur. The innkeeper attended the shiur, and thereby discovered the true identity of the man he had treated so discourteously. After the shiur, he went over to Rav Saadia Gaon and asked forgiveness, saying that had he known the day before what he knows now, he would have acted much differently. When Rav Saadia returned to his home, he reflected on the words of the innkeeper, and began to cry. He realized that his knowledge of Torah and his relationship with God expands each day, and with that expansion of knowledge comes an awareness that his previous service of God was not adequate, and, therefore, he needed to repent for it. Rav Saadia, in effect, was saying that there is never any end to the level of growth we much strive for in our observance of the mitzvos and our relationship with God.
Based on the comments of Rabbi Schorr, the Rambam and Rav Saadia Gaon, we can now understand the comment of the midrash cited by Rashi. Parshas Kedoshim contains within it most of the essentials of the Torah in that it demonstrates to us the fact that the quest for holiness requires us to be aware that there is no end to our obligations to God. New situations generate new opportunities to expand our service and devotion to Him. This is true on the individual level, but even more so on the collective level. The task of the Jewish nation, as it was charged at Mt. Sinai before receiving the Torah, is to be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation (Shemos 19:6). We have mentioned many times Rav Kook's explanation of this charge, that the Jewish nation needs to demonstrate holiness within the context of a nation, with all the political, economic and social elements that are involved in the dynamics of a nation. This national setting provides a much wider range of challenges and opportunities in our service of God, and we need to explore all of the ramifications that such a setting has in terms of Torah observance and our relationship with God. For this reason, parshas Kedoshim needed to be given to the nation as a whole.
