In yesterday’s
post I noted that Mishnah Peah opens with two lists of mitzvot that share
common characteristics. The first list is:
These are the things [i.e. mitzvot] that have no measure: peah (corners of the field), bikkurim (first fruits), rei-ayon (appearing at the Temple on the
pilgrimage festivals, gemilut chasadim (deed of loving kindness) and talmud torah (Torah study).
Mishnah is
telling us that Torah did prescribe fixed minimums or maximums for these
mitzvot. We might well ask: How much of my field must I leave for the poor to
glean (peah)? For that matter, may I
declare an entire field peah? How
much of my early harvest must I bring to the Temple (bikkurim)? Do I have to travel to Jerusalem for all three
pilgrimage festivals (Pesach, Shavuot, Sukkot) each year, or would one suffice?
How many kind deeds fulfill my obligation of chesed? How much Torah, or how much time studying, fulfills this
mitzvah?
While Torah
does not establish fixed amounts, we should not be surprised that the Rabbis
do. They are not fans of doing the bare minimum. But before they get to that,
an interesting question is raised on J.Peah 2b. What other items might have
been included in the Mishnah’s list of mitzvot without minimum or maximum
measure? Torah describes other obligatory rites without prescribing precise
amounts.
R. Berekhiah asked: Why don’t we include in the list of items without a specified limit [stated
above in the mishnah] the following as well: the quantity of dust used in the ordeal of the sotah (Numbers 5:11-31), the quantity of
ashes used in the rite of the red heifer
(Numbers 19:1ff.), the quantity of the yebamah’s spittle (Deuteronomy 25:7-10), and the quantity of blood of a bird offering of a metzorah (Leviticus 14:1-8)?
[A brief
interlude to explain the four practices mentioned here. If you’re familiar with
them, skip this paragraph. (1) Torah prescribes a complex ordeal for a woman
whose husband, wrought with dangerous jealousy, believes her to have committed
adultery but has neither proof nor witnesses. The ordeal entails her drinking a
concoction of water into which is mixed the ink that inscribed the curse of the
sotah — the suspected adulteress — and some dust from the floor of the Temple
precinct. Torah doesn’t say how much dust to use. (2) There are several levels
of ritual impurity described in the Torah, the highest of which is ritual
impurity imparted by contact with a corpse. The only way to remove this purity
is through the ashes of a perfect red heifer that has been slaughtered in a
prescribed manner and thoroughly burned to ashes. The ashes are mixed with
water and sprinkled on the someone who has corpse impurity. Torah does not
provide a recipe to tell us how much water and how much ash. (3) The
institution of the levirate marriage is ancient. If a man dies without having
fathered a child, his brother is obligated to marry his widow, and the male
child resulting from that union inherits from the deceased brother. If,
however, the brother of the deceased refuses to marry his brother’s widow,
Torah prescribes a public ritual to declare that this marriage will not take
place and the widow is free to marry another man. She removes her
brother-in-law’s sandal and spits in his face, both of which are negative
symbols of what should happen to a man who refuses to fulfill this obligation
to this deceased brother. As Mishnah reminds us, Torah does not say just how
much the woman must spit on her brother-in-law. (4) A metzora, person who suffers from any of a number of skin ailments
lumped together under the umbrella term tzara’at
(and often mistranslated “leprosy”), is rendered ritually impure by this
condition. The ritual for recertifying the metzora
as ritually pure entails the slaughter of a bird and the use of some of its
blood in the ritual. Torah does not specify how much blood.]
R. Berekiah
asks why these four mitzvot are not included
in Mishnah’s list of commandments for which Torah does not prescribe a minimum
or a maximum measure. Good question! Also an interesting set of mitzvot. Note
that R. Berekiah did not include the minimum amount of matzah one must eat on
Pesach to fulfill the mitzvah to eat unleavened bread; the Rabbis tell us,
however. Nor did he include the maximum height of the walls of a sukkah, which
the Rabbis also tell us. Clearly, he wants to make a distinction between these
mitzvot and those listed in Peah 1:1.
Here is the
Yerushalmi’s answer:
We include in the Mishnah’s list only items that if one increases
the quantity in doing them, this does not constitutes an additional
commandment. [Concerning R. Berekhiah’s four examples] even if one increases
the quantity in performing the rites, doing so does not constitute a [greater]
mitzvah.
There is a
natural tension in the halakhic system between fulfilling commandments because
they are commanded, and attempting to perform them to a greater extent. Is
bigger always better? Is more always better? We know that the Sages champion
the concept of hiddur mitzvah (making
a mitzvah more beautiful). B.Shabbat 133b lauds a particularly beautiful shofar
or Torah scroll and R. Zeira expresses the opinion that one should be willing
to spend even one-third above the normal price to fulfill hiddur mitzvah (B.Baba Kamma 9b). R. Ishmael, commenting on This is my God and
I will glorify Him (Exodus 15:2),
says: Is it possible for a human being to add glory
to the Creator? What this [verse] means is: I will glorify God in the way I perform mitzvot. I will
prepare before God a beautiful lulav, beautiful sukkah, beautiful
tzitzit, and beautiful tefillin. [Mechilta,
Shirata, ch. 3, ed. Lauterbach, p. 25.]
At the same time, Rabbi Yehudah ha-Nasi taught:
Be as attentive to a
minor mitzvah as to a major one, for you do not
know the reward for each of the mitzvot.
Consider the cost of a mitzvah against its rewards, and the rewards of a
transgression against its cost. (Pirke Avot 2:1)
Rabbi presumes that people are calculating their reward in olam ha-ba, the world-to-come (which is not mentioned in the first list of mitzvot in Peah 1:1, although it
is mentioned in the second list of the same mishnah) and tells us that cherry-picking
among the mitzvot based on expected payoff is not in consonance with accepting ol malchut shamayim, accepting all the
mitzvot as an obligation toward God. Does this mean that we should not weigh
one mitzvah against another, investing more time and energy in one than in
another?
It appears that R. Berekhiah was prescient or had a crystal
ball that permitted him to peer into the 21st century. Given the
craziness going on in sectors of the Jewish community — not limited to spitting
at young girls whose skirts are not deemed long enough, and banning municipal
water because of micro-organisms — which absorbs seemingly limitless energy and
attention that might be put into more worthy endeavors, R. Berekhiah’s comment
provides sage advice and a sadly needed moral distinction: Where doing more
benefits others, it is encouraged. This includes peah because there are always more hungry people to feed, bikkurim because it is a rite that
teaches gratitude, and appearing in the Temple because it is religiously
inspiring and promotes community. Gemilut
chasadim and talmud torah speak
for themselves. But the amount of dirt in the concoction the sotah is compelled
to drink, or the volume of ashes in the purifying red heifer mixture, or the
amount of spittle in the ritual of chalitzah, or the quantity of blood of the
metzorah’s bird offering? How could more possibly benefit anyone? Rather, those
who are are card-carrying members of the Chumrah-of-the-Month Club are involved
in a dangerous and wasteful exercise in holier-than-thou piety.
R. Berekhiah offers us sage advice.
© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman
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