Halachic Movement
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The recent controversy over the bracha of Shelo Asani Ishah, “…that You have not made me a woman” --
initiated by various Orthodox Rabbis who maintain that it no longer needs to be
recited, presenting what they feel are halachic
arguments in support of their position -- demands a consideration of the
parameters of halachic movement. It
is much too simple to declare that there is never any movement in halachic practice. There is no doubt,
though, a strong hesitation to render changes. The challenge that must be faced
is the need to determine how to balance this movement and hesitation. Given the obvious dominance within
Torah of the historical Revelation at Sinai, a reluctance to make changes would
seem most understandable. We look back to this Revelation for instructions as
to the ideal; any movement away from past practice would thus seem to be a
movement away from this standard. How is it even possible to contemplate
change? Would not any movement from a previous halachic determination be a movement away from the ideal? The issue
is thus not just one of how we are to balance progress and tradition but
demands an investigation of how we are even able to consider foregoing
tradition and contemplate what may be termed as progress. This recognition is even more
significant given the general world’s perception of progress, specifically
progress in ethics. Rather than looking back to the past for presentations of
the ethical ideal, the general understanding is that the progression of history
would seem to indicate that the movement of existence is toward the ethical
ideal. Of course, the thoughts of Hegel immediately come to mind. In
contradistinction to Torah thought, the world seems to look forward for the
ultimate articulation of the ideal while we look backwards. As such, there
would seem to be an inherent contradiction between the secular world’s
perceptions and our own. They define and embrace movement as the result of
progress; we embrace tradition as the result of Revelation. Consequent to this
is a further concern that anyone advocating for change or movement is thereby also
advancing what is truly a foreign idea. The subsequent argument against
movement is thus two-fold. The assertion is not solely that it is the essential
nature of Torah to look to the past for direction but, also, that any argument
for progress must be inherently flawed, as its inception emerges from outside
of Torah. Is it true, though, that there is no
declared value of progress within the Torah system? Clearly, Torah believes in
the advancement of the individual as an ethical being. As individuals, we are expected
to grow, to progress as ethical beings, evolving always closer to the ideal
ethical person. We are meant to transform and the Torah would seem to believe
in the necessity, ability and inherent value of this transformation during our
lives. This would appear to assert that, on some level, the Torah does believe
in ethical change, even demands it. This expected change, though, would seem to
be focused within the human being. The fact that individuals transform, and are
expected to transform, does not necessarily further indicate that we are also
to accept change in the ethical standard itself. We could maintain that people
can, do and even are expected to change to further meet the standards of this
yardstick but that the yardstick itself still remains the same. This
understanding could explain how progress on the personal level could co-exist
with a static, tradition-based system of ethical standards. Is it possible, though, for a dynamic understanding of the effect of
the Torah system to co-exist with a static system? If individuals are affected
by Torah and thereby transform, there must be elements within this system that now
speak anew to these transformed individuals. Such an assertion, however, does
not necessarily postulate that the system changes but rather that within this
system there must be different directions articulated for people on differing
ethical levels. Indeed this is what we actually do find. There are numerous
examples within Halacha that describe
a different standard that is to be expected from Torah scholars as distinct
from the lesser demands that are to be expected from the average population. As
such, as there is change in the individual, the personal demands upon the
individual may change. The Torah system is, thus, not monolithic as it presents
different directives in response to the expected dynamic movement of the
population. Yet, this does not mean that the system itself goes through any
transformation. It could be contended that simply built into this static system
of value presentations is a recognition of and a response to the dynamic nature
of the population through a clearly articulated spectrum of directives tied to
the level of the person. What is correct would still be seen as clear. Absolute clarity as to what is right or wrong for a person, though,
may actually not always occur. There is a further directive that limits acceptance
by average individuals of these higher standards in certain situations as this
behaviour may rather reflect what is termed yehura,
a form of haughtiness. Observance of the higher standard in such cases would be
seen as reflecting a negative ethic rather than a true, positive ethical
motivation to abide by this higher standard. See, further, Encyclopedia Talmudit, Ga’ava, 5:40-43. The result is that certain
behaviour may be right for one person and wrong, not just inappropriate but
negative, for another. While this characteristic of Torah in itself does not
indicate that the system itself is, thus, in movement, it does introduce into
the analysis of Torah a further dynamic element. The interesting result is
that, with this recognition, a lack of impersonal clarity is introduced into
the system and an act can no longer be defined as always objectively good.
Depending on circumstances, the very same act could be good when done by one
person and sinful when done by another. Definitions of right and wrong must be
seen as more dynamic than what at first may be indicated. While this assertion could be defended in numerous ways, the above
shows that the Torah standard clearly is not monolithic reflecting one ethical directive
for all people. If it was, it would be simple to define and assert its fully
static nature. On some level, the system relates dynamically to the dynamic
change within the individuals that it directs. This reflects a dialectic
whereby the system actually, in a given case, may enunciate two spectrums of
consideration with a decision emerging from a weighing of values in a given
circumstance with one decision in one case and even an opposite decision in
another case. Dialectic tension inherently would seem to signify that the
system cannot be fully static. This recognition, in itself, still does not mean that there are,
thereby, acceptable, dynamic effects possible on the system itself with resultant,
almost built-in factors of change inherent within it. The system may have
dynamic elements but these dynamic possibilities could clearly be defined and
limited to acceptable parameters. While there are clear indications of a
dynamic interaction between the system and the population that it is directing,
a limit to this dynamism may still be articulated by a clearly defined spectrum
of these dynamic possibilities. If this is so, the static nature of this system
as a whole would still thereby be reinforced through the presentation of this
acceptable, articulated spectrum of the dynamic. There is, however, a strong caveat upon such an understanding of the
system. . In order to perceive the system as unchanging, all the possible
directives that could be enunciated would already have to be defined, stated
and transmitted. There would seem to thus have to be certain parameters on the
acceptable dynamic movements within the population. The spectrum of dynamic
movement would have to remain consistent with no possibility for a further
ethical development within the population that could possibly demand a new
standard. We would have to say that human beings grow within a lifetime within
a certain spectrum of ethical standards and that the Torah thus offers
different directives for each of these levels – but that there is no deviation
from this spectrum of possible directives. If we perceive, however, that there
could be continuous ethical development of the members of society over a set of
generational periods, than, at some point, we would have to consider the
necessity of defining a new standard for a level of ethical individuals that
did not exist prior to this time. This would demand the articulation of a new
standard, within the parameters of Torah, of which previous generations would
not know. This contemplation is the basis for the concept of Torah Tolerated mitzvot in Rabbi Eliezer Berkovits, Jewish Women in Time and Torah. What Rabbi Berkovits effectively postulates is that Torah affects
not only the ethical development of the individual over one’s lifetime but also
the ethical development of human society over the years of history. Torah, as
such, must relate to ever-changing recipients of its directives, ethical beings
of a new nature that did not exist in prior generations. It is, of course, the
very directives of Torah themselves that cause these changes but, nevertheless,
these prior statements of Torah standards may no longer be applicable for this
new level of ethical being. New standards need to be enunciated and, as such,
Torah must incorporate within its system a methodology of responding to such
needs with the ability to articulate new directives still marked as within the
system of Torah. Rabbi Berkovits’ thesis is that such potential for change is indeed
inherent within the Torah system and that the correct manifestation of the
system actually indicates, supports and promotes such movement. Essentially
what he is simply stating is that if the Torah is to act dynamically on the
population, it must also inherently be of a dynamic nature. An example of such a process could be reflected in a possible
understanding of the Torah laws of slavery. What this theory would contend is
that, given the nature of the people at Sinai, who perceived slavery to be
normative, it would have been difficult for the Torah to meet the pristine
ethical standard of outlawing slavery as such a concept would have been too foreign
to the nation at the time of Revelation. The Torah therefore only introduced mitzvot that limited the power of the
master over the slaves with the goal of dynamically affecting the people
through this restraining halachic
behaviour. The desired result is that an ethic against slavery would develop
with the eventual goal of bringing about the abolishment of this practice. With
this abolishment of slavery, though, there would also be non-observance of the
details of the Torah law regarding the practice. While there is generally no
command to own slaves and thus no sinful result in not applying these laws --
as the people, in any event, do not own slaves, and so these laws are
inapplicable -- the law still becomes potentially irrelevant, This idea of Rabbi Berkowitz finds its source in the words of Rambam, Moreh Nevuchim 3:32 in regard
to karbanot, sacrifices. This is a
theme that actually is expressed throughout the Moreh Nevuchim’s explanation of
the mitzvot: God legislated certain
laws at Sinai to cause change in the ethical perspectives of the people with
the eventual result of higher, ethical standards finding expression in new
categories of directives. Progress in ethics is thereby introduced into the
realm of Torah. A grave problem, however, is that an end result of this view is
that Sinai no longer represents the ethical ideal of Torah. This presented a
grave problem for many. Ramban, Vayikra 1:9, for example, takes a very strong position against Rambam. The
Torah’s strong endorsement of the practice of korbanot would seem to clearly show that this is an ideal and not
just a step in the development of a new ideal that will eventually and ideally
supplant it. The fact that we look at previous generations as being greater
than the present one further complicates an argument of progress; the simple implication
of such a concept is that there is no forward movement that is possible. The
fact is that many contend that Rambam’s views in the Moreh Nevuchim were not
his real thoughts on a subject in any event but were written with the intent of
influencing certain audiences in a favourable way towards Jews and Torah. His
real views, it is asserted, are those found in the Yad HaChazakah and in that
work, the only indication would seem to be that the practice of karbonot is an inherent ideal. This is
reflected, for example, in the clear statement that with the coming of the Mashiach, we will return to the practice
of sacrifices. See Rambam, Yad
HaChazakah, Hilchot 11:1. While the words of the Moreh Nevuchim would seem
to indicate that progress is also part of the Torah system, this idea is not
universally accepted and, in fact, there is contentions that Rambam himself did
not really believe it. Yet, I remember reading that Rav Kuk held that the only korbanot that will be reintroduced with
the coming of the Mashiach will be
the Minchot, the grain sacrifices,
and there will be an end to animal sacrifices. I have subsequently heard that
this opinion was also expressed by a certain Mekubbal of the 15th-16th centuries. The fact
is that while there is much disagreement on details – and from Ramban’s words
in regard to korbanot, for example,
one cannot necessarily extend his words to the whole concept of progress – this
overall tension is actually found throughout the corpus of Torah. Within the
concept of asmachta – derivations
from the Torah text which are not deemed to be Biblically conclusive -- there
are those who maintain that thereby the Torah is directing Sages of the later
generations to invoke such laws when appropriate. See Encyclopedia Talmudit 2:105-108, Asmachta. The implication is that
there is growth over the generations. Yet, the famous directive of Avot 1:1 to place fences around the
Torah would seem to imply that Rabbinic Law is a movement away from the pristine
Biblical Law because of the weakness of the later generations. The fact is that
there would seem to be sources that support both assertions, that Rabbinic Law
reflects growth and positive change and that Rabbinic Law reflects the
weakening of the generations and represents action to prevent greater slippage.
The reality is that within the Torah system which calls upon us to look
backwards to find the ideal, there also would seem to be implications that we
are also to look forwards to find the ideal – and that is the root of this
issue. There are other arguments I could introduce to show the reality of
this tension within Torah and that there does exist this contradictory call to
look backwards and, also, to look forwards. As a further example, inherent in
many Torah views of the Mashiach
there is a concept of progress towards a higher ideal. The issue for me is not
to prove that the reality of this tension is correct. See, further, Rabbi Y. Silman, Kol Gadol V’lo Yasuf (The
Voice Heard at Sinai: Once or Ongoing). The issue for me is this tension itself and
how we are to properly respond to this challenge of combining progress with
tradition, of meeting the Torah standard of looking forwards as we look
backwards and looking backwards as we look forwards. How do we apply progress
correctly within the parameters of the strictures of Torah? Our first step must be the recognition that this is an inherent
Torah issue. The question is thus not how we are able to combine modernity’s
view of progress with the Torah view of Sinai. A formulation such as this of
the issue is actually inherently destined for failure as it formulates the
desired goal as the integration of two almost equal value systems. Such a goal then
could only be arbitrated by some value yardstick determining whether a
personally defined, desired objective combining these two presumably variant
systems is reached. The dynamic tension that elucidates the question that
originates this investigation must be formulated solely within the realm and
parameters of Torah itself – and Torah must be the yardstick. The desired
result is, thus, not a merging of Torah with another system but rather a
further understanding of Torah itself, one that is deemed to emerge from this
investigation. It is Torah itself that calls upon us to look forwards and
backwards to thereby understand its full message – and it is only when the
issue is formulated in such terms that we can thereby find our desired, Torah objective. Yet the look forward often does seem to involve other value systems.
A tension can emerge from our very perception of a value in a stand or standard
that would seem to challenge aspects of the traditional Torah perspective. This
would imply that our motivation indeed is to merge or integrate this presumably
foreign value within the Torah frame. Yet, upon retrospection, one can see how
this value is also reflective of Torah thought. This is precisely the point. If
Torah includes a movement of progress, then a full understanding of Torah would
have to incorporate the progressive perception as well. It may even be that the
progressive value within the modern perception actually had its roots in Torah
initiatives. It is this full understanding of Torah that, thus, must be our
goal. The question, as such, must be defined in this manner as an inherent
Torah question. This is indeed the first challenge that must be met – how to
bring this perceived new value and the questions that it initiates into the
corpus of Torah? Let us again use slavery as the example. The question cannot be: I see value in the
abolition of slavery, how do I maintain such a value while also remaining
committed to Torah? Such a question implies a commitment to two value systems
with the quandary being how to maintain and even integrate both. The question
has to develop into solely a Torah question, indicating commitment solely to
Torah but with a quandary on the exact nature of this system. Somehow the
enunciated value that would seem to emerge outside of Torah, in a foreign value
system, has to find a standing of some nature within the realm of Torah itself
so that any further discussion on the issue can be defined solely as a Torah
discussion. To repeat, the issue cannot remain at a level whereby a person
accepts the value of abolition and wonders how one can adopt such a standard
while still maintaining an allegiance to the Torah lifestyle which clearly
accepts slavery. The conclusion cannot be, on the individual level, to not
personally own slaves. On the greater societal or gestalt level, the conclusion cannot be an assertion of progress
and modernity over tradition and articulated Torah standards. The conclusion
cannot be some way to, sort of, stuff this value of modernity into the realm of
Torah through some song-and-dance using the language of Halacha. This is movement
but not within Torah. The alternative is to bring the issue fully within the realm of
Torah. The most direct way of doing so is to find within the perceived, foreign
value of, for example, abolition, a variety of standards which appear to have
Torah roots; for example the equality of all human beings as descendents of
Adam HaRishon. See, further, T.B.
Sanhedrin 37a (especially with the girsa,
reading, of all human beings). The question now becomes how we are to
understand Torah which permits slavery yet speaks of the equal value of all
human beings. The issue is now totally
within Torah. There is a significant characteristic to this question that indicates
its placement within the corpus of Torah. The question once asked now exists
independent of time. This is a question that once asked could have been asked
in any generation and indeed such a question may have been asked. This leads
clearly to a study within the wide realm of Torah, demanding an integral
perusal of the sources to see what has already been said on the subject and
what could be said. New Torah questions may be initiated and new ideas
enunciated – but is this not simply the reality of Torah study? Any effect on psak also can be similarly framed as
other questions of psak. . It may be, of course, that the originating question was not asked
before and it took an attitude from modernity to open up the question, but this
is not a problem; once posed, the question, if it has substance, not only still
stands but is actually to be welcomed. Progress may reveal new questions but
the key is that these questions also are able to stand on their merit within
tradition – and in that regard it simply becomes an honoured instrument of
Torah study and a necessary step in our quest to understand Torah. A further issue may be that tradition itself had already asked the
question but the values of modernity now challenge the previous answers to the
question. Again, the key would be that once these challenges are newly posed,
can they stand on their own merits? What modernity is to be understood to have
done is simply to have opened up our ability to further understand Torah by
prompting new questions and subsequent new Torah insights. See, further, T.B. Chullin 6b,7a. New questions within
Torah are always welcomed. The chidush,
a fresh thought within Torah, is hallowed within the world of Torah study. It
may be that some new perception is the impetus for some new question or insight
but that, in itself, is not a problem as long as the question and insight possess
merit on their own. The further yardstick, then, is always the correct
understanding of Torah and the ability for this new question and chidush to stand under the rigours of
Torah study, analysis, investigation and critique. The further reality of Torah is that it is always dynamic for, at
its core, is the dynamic nature of Torah study. There are always new questions
yielding new answers. By extension, as the dialectic of progress and tradition exists
within the realm of Torah, it must find its place and standing within the
dynamic nature of Torah study. It is inside this realm that progress and
tradition can find balance defined by the parameters of Torah. The challenge of
integrating progress and tradition within Torah finds its solution in the
dynamism of Torah study. It is inside the realm of Torah study that the issue
becomes an issue solely bounded by the parameters of Torah. The question is no
longer how to integrate the foreign idea or value with Torah. The question is
totally: how are we to understand Torah? This process demands further clarification especially as one may
find the possible articulations of an initiating enquiry not to be as direct as
the slavery question above. The demand
is always to find that true question that opens the floodgates of new, honest
Torah investigation. The motivation of progress must find its place in driving
one to discover an honest Torah question, one that stands on its own merits and
could find a voice in all generations once posed. The initiating question,
again, may not be as direct to the point as the slavery question above; it may
not even touch upon the value issue under consideration. The question may
simply be technical and/or textual; in fact, the perceived value issue may
simply serve as the motivating force behind the discovery of the initiating
question and further chidushim in the
study. If one contemplates this presentation, one can see that this process
may explain the very nature of Responsa literature. There is often a motivation
to find a certain halachic result and
this is not necessarily deemed to be a negative. If this motivation becomes the
sole drive for change, than there is a problem. If the motivation, however,
drives one to re-study the issue and the entire Torah corpus on a subject in an
attempt to find an issue in which one can open up a Torah investigation, that
is not a problem (as long as the resultant question honestly has objective stature).
This is actually meritorious for it opens up the Torah to our understanding l’hagdil Torah u’l’hadiro, to strengthen
Torah and glorify it. See Rabbi Moshe Feinstein,
Iggros Moshe, Yoreh De’ah 1:101. The key to proper halachic
movement is thus the kasha, the
question. It is the strength of the question within the panorama of Torah study
that embodies the value of the subsequent discussion and subsequent possible
solutions that may integrate progress and tradition in a fuller understanding
of Torah itself. In that Torah study always has new questions, new hypotheses
and new answers, its inherent nature cannot be motionless. Such a recognition
further challenges any understanding of Torah itself as static. The dynamism of
Torah inherently exists in the realm of Torah study. The dynamic nature of the
dialectic between tradition and progress must, as such, find its place within
Torah within the realm of Torah study – beginning with the question. The nature of this question, though, needs to be expanded upon.
Aside from the direct type of question as articulated above regarding slavery,
the nature of the question need not be so limited as long as it has objective
merit. In fact, the question may not even be tied to the new value that is
motivating the investigation but rather may just be the result of the
motivation. It does not matter what drove the search for a question as long as
the subsequent question itself has merit. This process, as mentioned above, is
often found in the Responsa literature. There is a motivation to find some new
approach but that motivation alone does not have standing within halachic study. The motivation, though,
can drive one to re-read and re-read the sources to see if there is something
that is being missed, if there is a problem just simply within the study. A
question is then seen. It may be just a question on text construction but, once
posed, it has its own life separate from the motivation that prompted someone
to search for it. All that now exists is the need, for the sake of
understanding Torah, to answer this question. The dominant parameter on possible solutions is now logic. A new
answer cannot simply be shot down because it was unheard before as long as it
meets the test of logic and is seen to be the best possible answer to the
query. This is stated explicitly by Rabbi
Moshe Feinstein, Iggros Moshe, Yoreh De’ah 1:101, for a powerful
demonstration of this idea, one can look at Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, Iggros Moshe, Choshen Mishpat 2:74 where Rav
Moshe offers as a possibility that for a non-Jew euthanasia may not only be
allowed but even considered a mitzvah
even if performed (by a non-Jew) upon a Jew. Of course, Rav Moshe only presents
this as a possibility and is not presenting this as a definite psak but his very contemplation of this
idea is indicative of the dynamic nature of Torah that we are describing. Because
it was not asked before or said before is not a bar to a new presentation but
this new presentation must emerge from the discovered Torah issue itself. The voicing of the possibility that euthanasia may be permitted if
performed by a non-Jew is truly a strong example of this. This is clearly an
idea that does not have any direct precedent yet the lack of this did not bar
Rav Moshe from, at least, contemplating a possibility that, bluntly, would seem
to challenge all previous understandings of this topic. What is it, though,
that causes Rav Moshe to voice this perception? It is a powerful problem in the
text: how else could one explain the positive response to the action of the
Roman executioner, moved by compassion, to quicken Rabbi Chananya ben Teradyon’s
death? See. T.B. Avoda Zara 18a. The
executioner did this, an act which Rabbi Chananya ben Teradyon himself refused
to undertake and which would also seem to be prohibited under the Noachide Laws
as murder, yet the gemara states that
the executioner received Olam Haba,
the Future World – how was this possible? Rav Moshe postulates as a possible
answer that the laws of murder under the Torah law are different than the laws
of murder under the Noachide Laws with the result that euthanasia may be
permitted, even praiseworthy, within that latter system of laws. As such, Rabbi
Chananya ben Teradyon as a Jew declared the act of euthanasia prohibited for
himself for he was bound by the 613 system of Torah law and, within that
system, euthanasia is a violation of the prohibition of murder. Yet he conceded
to the executioner doing so -- with, in fact, Heaven subsequently even
declaring the executioner to be deserving of Olam Haba -- for the executioner, as a non-Jew, is bound by the
system of Noachide Laws and, perhaps, euthanasia is not considered murder
within that system. In fact, as an act of chesed,
it could even be seen as praiseworthy. The bottom line is that the issue became
one of Torah study and once asked, the question’s absolute merit demanded an
answer simply to understand Torah. The further point is that Rav Moshe offered an answer that met the
rigours of logic. This does not mean that any logical answer immediately is to
be accepted. There is still a need to further the investigation to see how this
theory stands within the entire corpus of Torah including the forward realm of
moral development. The fact is that, as evidenced by such cases as those
described as passive euthanasia (see, for example, Rema, Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 339:1), the attitude towards
euthanasia is not totally black-and-white but does include an expression of
understanding as to why someone with moral sensibilities would contemplate such
an act. I remember reading Rabbi Lord
Emmanuel Jakobovits, Jewish Medical Ethics presenting the view of a rishon who explains the statement that
the best doctors (hatov b’rofim) go
to Gehenom as referring to doctors motivated by compassion who commit
euthanasia. Within this perspective, Rav Moshe’s statement could withstand a
challenge from the general corpus albeit, nonetheless, that it is radical – at
least, this would seem to be what Rav Moshe himself believed. There is also a need to determine whether there are other possible
answers and whether another answer would be more acceptable. Indeed other
answers to this question do exist. For example, I remember one commentator
arguing that the executioner was different since he initiated the original act
of murder. As such, in removing the sponges, he was simply amending his own act
by speeding it up. This may be different than actually initiating the act which
would have been what R. Chananya ben Teradyon would have done. The challenge
would now be to compare and evaluate this possibility with Rav Moshe’s
thoughts. There could also be other presentations of a difference between the
Torah legal system and the Noachide legal system that could possibly explain
the distinction enunciated by this case. See, for example, Shiurei Da’at 3:166 who maintains that there is more leeway under
the Noachide Code for personal decision making depending on the situation. The
executioner, as such, may have thus been excused under the rules of that Code.
As part of the learning, all these considerations must also be investigated.
Nevertheless, in still maintaining his position, we can assume that Rav Moshe
knew these other possible answers but still felt his conclusion was the best;
at least to state it as a possibility. He must have felt that his answer was
more logically consistent than the other answers and that it connected better
with the overall corpus of Torah – and our study must include this goal of
understanding. The key, again, is not about the conclusion but about the
learning. This leads to the very issue before us of the bracha of Shelo Asani Ishah.
As I have written previously on the Nishmablog (see http://nishmablog.blogspot.com/2011/08/shelo-asani-ishah-issue.html),
I had problems with the argument that was presented to defend the
non-recitation of this bracha. The
argument, as I understand it is that there is a disagreement as to what is the
correct language of the statement in T.B.
Menachot 43b that calls for the recitation of this bracha. (See, also, Tosefta
Brachot 6:23.) One reading is that the 3 brachot that are indicated are: shelo
asani goy (…that You did not make me a non-Jew), shelo asani boor ( that You did not make me an ignoramus [English
word, boor]) and shelo asani ishah.
The other reading is that these 3 brachot
are: she’asani Yisraeli (…that You made
me an Israelite), shelo asani boor
and shelo asani ishah. As both
readings call for the recitation of shelo
asani ishah, one would think that this disagreement in language would be
irrelevant to this discussion. Not so, those arguing for no longer saying shelo asani ishah declare. The relevance
is in the argument of the Bach, who Taz, Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim
46:4 quotes as maintaining that if one says she’asani Yisraeli, one
need no longer say the other two for these other two are included in the first
blessing. So the argument is that one should say she’asani Yisraeli
based upon the reading that maintains that this is the correct language of the gemara
and then one should rely on the position of the Bach that this would also then
meet the requirement of reciting shelo asani ishah. The result is then
presented that one would still be fulfilling the dictates of the gemara
while not reciting shelo asani ishah which, they contend, would be better
not recited in our present world. The problem is that while this may seem to be a solid halachic
argument it is, in fact, logically inconsistent and reflects a desire to push
an argument to meet some value desire rather than truly consider the question within
the parameters of limud haTorah. The reality is that the Gemara
states that one should recite 3 blessings with a disagreement as to the correct
reading of these 3 blessings. In fact, this point is very substantial in regard
to understanding the full argument of the Taz. The issue is actually: what is
the correct reading, she’asani Yisraeli or shelo asani goy? The
conclusion is that the correct girsa must be the latter reading for, it
would seem, if one was to say the former, one would no longer need to say shelo
asani boor or shelo asani ishah. The actual result is such as
follows: (a) if the correct reading is she’asani Yisraeli, as the gemara
calls for the recitation of these three blessings, the conclusion must be that
this bracha does not override the demand to recite the latter two brachot
(see, also, the actual language of Bach, Tur, Orach Chaim 46), or: (b)
the correct reading is shelo asani goy and that is the blessing that is
demanded and it would be wrong to recite she’asani Yisraeli as that is
not the bracha that is demanded by the gemara. Either way, the bracha
of shelo asani ishah needs to be said. Bringing this argument into the
realm of limud haTorah totally challenges the argument and that is its
weakness. This was solely an attempt to read a modern value into Torah without
undertaking to discover the Torah concept in itself. In contrast, we may wish to consider the argument of Rabbi Chayim
Hirschenson, Malki Ba’Kodesh 4:34 (which was pointed out to me by a person
that commented on my blog post). It may be that Rabbi Hirschenson, although
living in the early twentieth century and, as such, in a different societal milieu,
was motivated by similar concerns as the contemporary rabbis who have
difficulty with the bracha of shelo asani ishah. After all,
sensitivity to the status of women within society has existed throughout the
centuries and, in fact, can also easily be shown to be a substantial Torah
value. It did not take the advent of modern times to actually raise the issues
that surround this bracha. It may,
however, also be that Rabbi Hirschenson was not concerned about these matters.
We cannot clearly identify his motivation because it, in fact, became
superseded – and correctly so – by the very issue of limud haTorah itself – namely the question: what is the corpus of
Torah thought telling us, specifically, in this case, through this statement in
the Gemara in Menachot? And the focus
becomes the questions emerging from the text, the challenges that exist in
attempting to understand – the realm of limud
haTorah. It is in this realm that the brilliance of Rabbi Hirschenson
radiates as he asks questions on the text that cannot be ignored regardless of
one’s views on the value issue that may surround this matter. What is simply
before us is the text and the problems in understanding it which transpose time
and take us into the timeless Beit
Medrash of all history. Rabbi Herschensohn’s question could have been asked
in any generation and once asked would have immediately been entertained by any
Torah scholar of any time or place. Rabbi Meir, a Tanna, said to say 3 brachot,
including the one shelo asani boor.
Rav Acha bar Yaakov, an Amora, hears
his son saying this bracha and
immediately challenges him on this, asking him why he is saying this. This
leads to the Gemara’s conclusion that
shelo asani eved should be said
instead. The problem is, as Rabbi Hirschenson points out, that Rav Acha bar
Yaakov’s question really does not make sense. Why is his son saying this bracha? Because Rabbi Meir said to say
it; that should be the end of the discussion. By Rav Acha bar Yaakov
questioning his son, by the Gemara
introducing shelo asani eved, all in
the face of a statement seemingly from the authority of Rabbi Meir that a
different bracha should be said,
raises a problem. This is Rabbi Hirschenson’s question – and it is a very good
one. This leads him to understand the discussion in the Gemara in a different manner. What Rabbi Hirschenson does before presenting his perspective on
this Gemara is, though, also most
significant. He opens with the statement that while he believes that his
approach has merit, one must still recognize that all the major poskim of the previous generations,
through the nature of their decisions, obviously did not see the Gemara in this light. The full context
of the presentation is articulated. We have a problem, one that seems to have escaped
the discussions of previous generations but, nonetheless, is now powerfully
demanding resolution. Any resolution, though, presents a new problem for it was
not articulated previously and we must wonder why not. The absence of this
insight in previous generations, though, still cannot bar it from being
presented now. Rabbi Hirschenson, as such, concludes that the real issue before the
Gemara must be the nature of the 3 brachot demanded by Rabbi Meir. It would
seem that he understood the statement concerning which 3 blessings needed to be
recited as not coming from Rabbi Meir himself but, rather, were presentations
of possible blessings that could fill Rabbi Meir’s directive. As such, Rav Acha
bar Yaakov was not challenging Rabbi Meir through his questioning of his son
but rather the understanding that this bracha
of shelo asani boor fulfilled Rabbi
Meir’s requirement. The son, thus, questioned his father that, since Rabbi Meir
did demand 3 brachot, of some type of
nature, which one should he now recite instead. The answer was shelo asani eved. The point is that with
this understanding the whole nature of the Gemara
changes and the status of the bracha
of shelo asani ishah, by extension,
also changes. This opens up a whole different perspective that could, possibly,
lead to innovation. It could lead to a re-evaluation of the recital of shelo asani ishah although, most
importantly, it may also clearly not. Rabbi Hirschenson, while advocating, on
the grounds of limud haTorah for a
reconsideration of the meaning of this statement in the Gemara, still queries the propriety of such innovations, also for
very legitimate reasons. The fact is, though, that there is now actually some
basis for such possible innovation because the question and issue entered the
realm of pure limud haTorah. It is solely in this realm that honest movement in Torah can occur.
This does not mean that the results of such honest study will always result in
an argument for movement. After all, the result of the study itself may be
inherently against such movement. Yet even if such study did not only support
such movement but even seemed to push for it, the history of previous Torah
study throughout the generations cannot simply be overturned. Precedence
matters and matters very deeply. Yet the cry of legitimate Torah study
demanding movement not for the sake of meeting some foreign value but simply
for the sake of understanding Torah itself also matters and also matters very
deeply. It is only within this context that there can be honest and acceptable
Torah movement.
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