There is far too much to discuss in this week’s parsha to limit oneself to a single topic, and likely, kol hamarbeh, harei zeh meshubach (all those who elaborate are to be praised) — but let’s get started and see where we end up.
This week’s parsha nearly opens with the following insistence: “v’lifnei iver lo siten michshol.” (Leviticus 19:14) How does one explain this in the vernacular? Well, if one’s vernacular is English, it might be written, “and before the blind man place no stumbling block,” and that’s a pretty good translation. But we don’t really translate the Torah when we write it in English as much as we interpret it — for all translation incorporates some degree of editor’s license and to deny this is being quite unsophisticated in one’s understanding of how powerful a tool language can truly be.
In his seven part lecture series on Mishlei (Proverbs), R’ Aharon Kahn compares the insightful verses within to King Solomon’s Song of Songs; he speaks about the meaning of the storyline and how it’s not meant to be taken literally. But what he continues on to explain is that it’s not really meant to be not be taken literally — rather, it is clear that it was written as an allegory, making any word-for-word translation a perversion of the message. Some people look at what appears to be a seemingly censored ArtScroll translation as a cop-out, but one who understands their objective in translating scripture will understand why they don’t vernacularize the text as an erotic love story. Drawing another parallel, R’ Kahn compares this type of allegory to the verse of lifnei iver, in that it speaks not of blind people nor of attempting to trip them up.
The Sefer HaChinuch, in commandment #232, interprets this verse as such, referring to it as the prohibition to “not mislead a simpleton on his course” and continuing on to explain how the verse is to be taken completely figuratively. In this sense, one who actually causes a blind person to trip by surreptitiously placing an obstacle in his or her path most certainly has transgressed a number of biblical imperatives (such as v’ahavta l’rei’acha kamocha, the “Golden Rule” of loving one’s fellow as oneself), but has not violated lifnei iver. In the same vein, Maimonides insists that this verse is to be interpreted completely removed from its literal meaning. (The Minchas Chinuch, however, does explain that one who trips up a blind person elicits a particular evil derived from this verse.)
But even according to Maimonides and the others who explain this verse figuratively, it is not that the words of the verse are rendered meaningless — because to be “blind” is not only to suffer a condition of the eyes, although that too is merely a reinterpretation as well. This is made clear by the prohibition of providing bribes to judges, as it is explained that the bribe “blinds the eyes of the judges,” (Deuteromony 16:19) and the Torah certainly means to suggest that the judges lose their impartiality and insight, not their eyesight — exhibiting how the Torah makes explicit use of figures of speech as well as implicit ones, as in this verse.
Very well said.
“Not cursing the deaf” is also extendable to the same vein of interpretation. Therefore, you could have added “lo sekalel cheresh” interpreted as talking about someone derogatorily, to a third person while simultaneously to their face, in a language the second is “not supposed to understand” (i.e. three people together, two talk about a third and mock that third in a language they ass-u-me the third does not understand).
I said mocking to exclude parents discussing a child in a necessary way; although even in such case it may eventually become problematic as the child may pick up enough to understand them!
Thank you.
Realistically, I could have included every single verse referring to every single commandment. While the Talmud (Yevamos 24a) provides the single exception (Deuteronomy 24:6, in that the son born of the Levirate marriage is not biblically mandated to be named after the dead father) to ein mikrah yotzei midei peshuto, this is a far cry from saying that everything follows the literal words of the verse — such a mode of understanding is a perversion of the notion of peshat, because unlike what most will have you believe, peshat has nothing to do with the “simple, plain-sense meaning of the text.”
Well, how do you define Peshat?
Unlike what you would like to have me believe, Peshat indeed is the “plain-sense meaning of the text”. The fact that we often deviate from this is because we are uncomfortable with the implications of the plain-sense meaning of certain verses. There are a few exceptions – such as when an entire section or set of verses is written in poetic language.
That’s an excellent question,
but I don’t have enough time now to respond appropriately; I’ll do so after yomtov.Alright — check out Rashi’s commentary to Genesis 14:13. The verse describes a refugee coming to inform Abraham that his nephew, Lot, has been captured, and Rashi opens by asserting, “l’fi peshuto, zeh Og,” based on Midrash Tanchuma (Chukas 25). If you ask anyone what the simple reference of the word “refugee” in that verse is, they would never tell you that it’s Og (King of Bashan), and that’s because peshat does not mean the “simple meaning of the verse.”
Rather, peshat means figuring out what a verse means with complete knowledge and thorough understanding of the entire Five Books of Moses, all the other 19 books in Tanach, all of the Mishna and the Gemara of the Talmud and all of Midrash. But that’s not all — one must also have a firm grasp of the Hebrew language (grammar, vocabulary, etc.) history, science, mathematics, sociology, anthropology, psychology and a whole bunch of other things. All in all, except for talmudical hermeneutics, all pertinent information is included in the tools necessary and relevant to explaining the peshat of biblical verses.
Regardless of the qualifications for determining Peshat (I think your list is way over the top), it doesn’t change what Peshat means. Nor does one Rashi – who is famous (infamous?) for using midrashic interpretation as the simple meaning of the verse, as is the case with Og – define the meaning of Peshat.
Since you obviously love Wikipedia, I’m sure you have read its entry on Peshat, and the debate on its meaning is properly treated there.
It doesn’t change peshat; it defines how one may get to explain the peshat, and one will not achieve that objective without it, despite your hesitation.
This one Rashi shows what peshat is — and nothing is simple about it. So for all the things necessary to be able to explain the verses of Tanach, why would someone call that simple? It’s a silly thing that kids learn in 4th grade, along with all the other silly things that kids learn in 4th grade. But for some reason, no one goes back to debrief these kids, and they grow up to be adults who erroneously assume that peshat has anything to do with simpleness.
And it’s not just Rashi…it’s nearly everyone! Other than the few who present their explanations as exotic (like the Kli Yakar), what are the biblical commentators going on and on about, trying to figure out how to explain verse A in relation to verse B? They are attempting to present the peshuto shel mikrah — what the Torah is telling us by saying what it says, and it’s all very complex, so calling it simple is a misnomer.
And Wikipedia is known for being weak in certain fields, and Judaism is one of them. (How’d you know I love Wikipedia?)
Well if you noticed, I paraphrased you by saying “plain-sense meaning of the text”, and left out the word “simple”. I agree that it isn’t always it it obvious what the plain-sense meaning is. What I dislike is when we try to put own own ideas and words into the text, because of our own motivations.
The term plain conjures up something simple, as in “just give me a regular tuna fish sandwich, plain and simple.” And you did write: “Nor does one Rashi – who is famous (infamous?) for using midrashic interpretation as the simple meaning of the verse, as is the case with Og – define the meaning of Peshat.”
Rashi is saying that when the verse says “hapalit” (the refugee), it is referring to Og. That’s what the verse is telling us, Rashi says, not what Rashi is telling us. You can reject Rashi, and go with it referring to an angel, but even that’s meant to be peshuto shel mikrah, not a drasha of any sort. Would you suggest that that’s a “plain-sense meaning” of the verse? I don’t think most would; they would equate plain with simple.
Gordon Tucker translates Heschel by using the term “plain-sense,” and for a little bit, I thought that was a really good improvement over simple, but it’s not really, because it still de-emphasizes the complex and intricate detail that goes into explaining what the verses mean when they use the words they do and read the way they do.
To paraphrase a great mathematician:
“He uses Torah like a drunk uses a lamppost: for support and not illumination.”
I have spent years trying to forget what I was taught when I was a kid. So much of it was dead wrong.
I, for one, am re-offended every year by the Artscroll refusal to translate Shir haShirim as the erotic love story that it is.
Our relationship with Hashem, at its highest level, is intended to be *inspired* by the relationship between man and wife. Look at the Kiyor (laver) used in the temple by the Cohanim – it was made from the mirrors used by women in Egypt to incite desire in their husbands.
Imagine the laver in use. The Cohenim must wash their hands and feet in it before they approach further to serve Hashem. As they are washing themselves, they see their reflections in the highly polished metal, the very same bronze that Jewish women had used to make themselves attractive to their husbands, to strengthen and grow their relationship. And then, having prepared by washing his hands and feet, the Cohen goes into the Beis Hamikdash and does the very same thing – strengthen and grow the relationship between mankind and Hashem.
Love between man and woman is holy – it is the essential building block of society, and it allows for the creation and nurturing of children. The laver is the only vessel in the Beis Hamikdash that has its own base, that can stand by itself. Marital love inspires and reinforces our service to Hashem. Sexual power *should* be holy; it is that simple.
So Artscroll does a grave disservice when it separates eroticism from Torah.
Much like apikorsus, sexuality is not trusted in the hands of everyone. Fearing misuse and a hesitation to approach it from a scholarly vantage on the part of ill-equipped and uninformed readers, ArtScroll took the position that not only is Song of Songs to be understood metaphorically (which they were correct in doing), but that its literal rendition is off-limits (with which some may disagree).
I understand why Artscroll does this. I think it is wrong, leaving most casual observers free to conclude that Judaism is devoid of spirituality that they can grasp.
I would argue that sexuality is for EVERY MARRIED COUPLE to use to relate to their relationship to G-d.
Consider: The gold for the Mishkan did not come from an imposed
tax, nor did it come from any kind of national treasury. On the contrary, “vayavo ha-anashim al hanashim”, “The
men and women came,” which Rashi understands as “im hanashim”—“the men came with the women.” When volunteering gold jewelry for the building of the Mishkan, men and
women came with each other, as Simcha Baer says: as couples.
The holiness of building the Mishkan was provided by
married couples, volunteering their personal, even intimate jewelry of bracelets, nose-rings, rings, and body ornaments. These couples, by sharing their gold, were in effect sharing their personal connections to the shechinah, to the holiness they had nurtured in their personal relationships with each other. G-d’s home was built by the contribution from married Jewish couples.
And it was from *every* Jewish couple, so the obvious conclusion is that spirituality in sexuality is, unlike the Artscroll approach, accessible to all married Jews.
The evils of sexuality are evident, and although they might not outweigh the spiritual lessons that can be reaped, the descent that can be experienced is often far more accessible and likely (in both magnitude and frequency). The result of ArtScroll’s cost/benefit analysis was what we can all infer from the lack of linear translation they provide.
Another issue is to give credibility to Song of Songs as a work of scripture despite its seemingly non-scriptural content. It was also, perhaps, to emphasize this point that ArtScroll opted to interpret the sections en masse, rather than translate it verse by verse.
Of course if artscroll were written by Slifkin no one would find any complaints, only because it is from some “backward black hatters” that a tayna as silly “Reoffended every year”‘s gets any thought.
Every translation is an interpretation
Mahla was wrong — we can agree!
when did she say that? It’s possible to agree with a wide variety of people, however, you pick and choose between them what you like best. A. Nuran has a lot of good wisdom underneath the cynical and sometimes controversial exterior (used in metaphor).
We all can agree on something, even with nate and others from all across the spectrum of thought. It is a shame that so often, we forget about the basic underlying principles of Judaism that most of us believe in and focus on ridiculous issues such as not eating gebrokts, stupid chumros, and tznius policies gone way too far.
Well, that’s where all the satire comes in, and it’s sort of the name of the blog, which makes me think that the focus on these things will end no time soon.
Makes me think of the new take on the old story…
Six wise blind elephants had heard of human beings and wanted to know what they were like. So they had a human brought to them.
The first elephant touched him and declared “Human beings are flat.”
The others touched the human and agreed.
I object! If you had a child with a disability, you wouldn’t have such a condescending attitude about the p’shat/literal meaning of this text.
To what, exactly, do you object?
And having a child with a disability doesn’t change the meaning of biblical verses…that’s sort of like suggesting that someone with homosexual urges would like to understand Leviticus 18:22 as allegorical.
And no one here is having a condescending attitude towards anything — I was merely explaining what the Torah means when it states what it does. Rather, it’s a poor understanding of what peshat means that leads some to think the way you do.
Your anecdotal stories amount to nothing more than case studies in which physicians acted inappropriately — are you suggesting that it’s a chidush that you found a physician or two who makes mistakes, possesses a poor grasp of the world, or both? So maybe your advise is good advise — people should make sure they have good doctors. But is that a biblical lesson to be derived from this verse? And you come across as very angry.
What the Torah *says* is “Don’t mock the deaf, or put a stumbling block before the blind.” When did it unthinkable to assume that the text means exactly what it says, with rabbinical interpretations enhancing the original?
Yes, I’m angry. Why shouldn’t I be? This text could be a prime teaching tool for the Jewish people in dealing with persons with disabilities. Those who insist that it *only* means what the rabbis say it means are throwing kids like mine under the bus.
Shira (and Rabbi Rosenbach)
And what, pray tell, do you make of the verses in Leviticus 21:16 – 21:23, where God calls it a “desecration” if a priest with a disability attemps to serve Him? Looking to the Torah as “…a prime teaching tool … in dealing with persons with disabilities” is a big mistake.
It only means that if that’s the way you interpret it, in much the same way that one might say that Judaism maintains that women are inferior, using their lack of obligation to hear the shofar or sit in a succah as evidence.
You can be angry, but it comes across as utterly dominating your writing. When you write in an angry fashion, people can tell that you’re angry and it undermines your message. “Nah, she doesn’t really mean this…she’s just angry,” is what many will come to think of what you might say.
The Torah makes no mention of disabilities other than to say they serve as disqualifications for priests and sacrifices in the temple, and that certain mental disorders may undermine one’s ability to engage in legally binding contracts, negotiations, etc. Why would you think that this verse gives any special rights or privileges to disabled people? It might be a literal translation, but that’s not what was intended, so explaining it as you did might be cute, but it’s not reality.
Why is it that in the case of “lifnei iver” you are happy to assume that there’s a deeper theme behind it – namely, not to decieve anyone, yet in the case of a Cohen that has a disability, it’s “not reality” to assume more than what it stated.
Count me in as one who believes that the reason this pasuk is written in such poetic language is that we are supposed to *start* with the principle of messing with blind people, etc., and extrapolate outward from there to the “pshat” of not leading others in the wrong path.
The point of pshat in this case is to have a mitzvah that applies to everyone. But I think the “kol v’chomer” case of obstructing the disabled is crystal clear.
The “how-do-you-know-to-apply-it-here” question is a very good one — I’d say I’d have to respond that it’s probably similar to the “how-do-you-know-if-he’s-being-sarcastic” question. It really comes down to asking oneself, “how confident am I that I know that X is really X.”
When the biblical commentators explain things that don’t seem contrived, there’s no reason not accept their explanations. And when they say things that appear very contrived, I speak to my rebbe, who invarably answers that such things are understood to not really be the way things are, and that the apparently contrived explanation was probably given under circumstances of deficient knowledge or impaired insight.
Oy. Okay, let’s just say that the Torah has its teaching moments, and also contains texts that are more difficult to deal with.
Who’s talking about special rights or privileges? The text asks only for basic consideration. Deaf people can’t defend themself against insults that they can’t hear, and blind people might trip if you put something in their path. So don’t insult them or trip them. That’s not special, that’s just basic derech eretz (common courtesy or thoughtfulness).
Anger undermines my message? I’ll have to think about that one.
You indicated that if only one would have experience dealing with disabled children, one would not have such a condescending attitude towards particular verses. Then you claimed that learning the verses as explained by the commentaries “throws these kids under the bus.” While the Torah speaks in favor of widows and orphans, who were seen as merely financially and perhaps socially marginalized members of the population, as well as the poor, the converts and the Levites, who were disenfranchised as a result of lacking (substantial) heritage estates and therefore similarly marginalized to some degree, the Torah does not speak explicitly about those with mental or physical handicap…so you bring up an interesting issue.
It’s funny that you close by asserting that what you’re talking about is “not special, that’s just basic derech eretz (common courtesy or thoughtfulness).” If that’s so (which I’d agree to), then you’re admitting that it’s not from these verses, unless you’re asserting that these verses are teaching common courtesy — you can’t have it both ways.
And, yes, anger does undermine a message on at least two accounts: with such emotional charge in your writing, often reason and logic take a back seat to rapture, leading to a literal undermining of your message, and people will tend to respond in kind with focus on emotion rather than content, leading to a figurative undermining of your message. If you’re correct, you should be able to persuade people with the merits of your argument and you needn’t resort to the often fleeting and gushing nature of an angry rant.