Ki Teitsei (Hasidism)

On the Beautiful Enemy Woman

This week’s Torah portion contains a veritable potpourri of miscellaneous laws on a variety of different subjects, including many matters of family, sexuality, etc. One of the most perplexing of and seemingly paradoxical of these is the very first one in the parasha, that known as Eshet Yefat Toar, the “beautiful captive woman” for whom a soldier lusts when seeing her among the captives in time of war (Deut 21:10-14). The law states that he may have sex with her once, in the heat of passion, on the battlefield (thus, at least, per Rambam); take her home with him; and he must then allow her to mourn for her own family for one month, shaving her head and growing her nails long, after which time he may marry her. This law is described by Rashi as making a certain concession to human lusts, in light of their enormous power, based upon the rather realistic appraisal that, were the Torah not to allow such behavior, soldiers would probably act thus anyway. The Sefat Emet tries to explain this idea: Ki Tetzei, 5631, s.v. be-Rashi:

Rashi [at Deut 21:11] said: “The Torah only addressed itself to the Evil Urge.” But wouldn’t it have been better not to give this power to the Evil Urge, to turn it towards this? But rather, the very fact that Scripture permitted this [causes] the person not to be attached to and chained to the Other Side by that act. As is explained in Tanya, the word issur (“prohibition”) is etymologically based on the fact that it ties or chains [osser] a person to the power of the Other Side that is present in the prohibited act.

Was it Shakespeare who said that , “Nothing is good or bad, but thinking makes it so”? In other words, the destructive effect on the human personality by performing a negative act is caused, not so much by the act itself, but by the psychological attitude toward them. Indeed, it is known that the attraction of certain sexual acts is not so much the actual desire, as the taboo itself: the fact that “I am now doing a forbidden act.” In modern times, many authors and film makers have explored the attraction of perversity to a certain type of personality; there is a tendency in certain sub-cultures of Western culture, especially some of those that consider themselves “avant garde,” to seek increasingly perverse acts. As the thrill of breaking one taboo wears off, another more daring and more outlandish needs to be found to take its place (e.g., snuff films). The Gerer Rebbe seems to have understood this.

And this is what Scripture tells him: that the fact that in the end he will come to hate her [Rashi, ibid., based on the proximity to the “hated wife” in v. 15], is itself the “permission” [i.e., releasing, untying]. And the whole difference between a permitted act [and a forbidden one] is that [in the former] a person can attach himself to the holy vitality present in that thing, and not to the corporeal aspect.

And in the midrash [on the verse], “They are a charming garland for your head [leroshekha]” [Prov 1:9]—to your time of ‘poverty’ [i.e., old age: rashiyutekha]. [Wherever a person goes the mitzvot accompany him; he builds] a house, [he makes] a parapet; a garment, he makes fringes, etc.” [Deut. Rab. 6.3]; see there. That is, that the Torah and mitzvot connect and attach a person to God, may He be blessed, that by his doing the act for the sake of Heaven, he can also attach the aspect of doing itself to God, may He be blessed, through the light of Torah that is present in the act of mitzvah. And in every permitted thing, there is also a mitzvah—that it be for the sake of heaven, or the positive or negative commandments of “you shall be holy,” “and you shall not go astray after your hearts,” etc.

The other side of the coin is the power of good deeds to bring a person closer to a life of spirituality, and even to God Himself—an idea repeated frequently in Hasidut. The midrash quoted in this paragraph, likewise taken from this week’s parsha, describes how mitzvot accompany a person everywhere he goes, even in such mundane acts as building a house or wearing clothes. Moreover, even where there is no specific mitzvah at hand, even ordinary acts contain the potential to serve as a focus for one of the general, constant mitzvot, as mentioned—to act for the sake of Heaven, to be holy, etc. (the idea of avodah begashmiut, as we have discussed often in previous pages).

Are God’s Attributes Mercy?

A second mitzvah on which much ink has been spilled is kan tzippor, the law of the “bird’s nest”—that is, that upon passing a bird’s nest, if one wishes to take the eggs or chicks, one must first send away the mother (Deut 22:6-7). This, alongside the law of the red heifer (Num 19), is one of the central texts invoked in the age-old Jewish discussion as to whether or not human beings are allowed to attempt to understand the reason for the mitzvot (see our discussion of this in HY I: Hukkat and especially the lengthy Yahrzeit shiur on this subject last year, HY III: Ki Tetzei; on the ambivalent role of the intellect, cf. HY I: Shelah, Korah). Can human beings comprehend the reason for the mitzvot? Or are they to be seen as arbitrary, to be accepted with a kind of blind faith? Is there something impious about even suggesting that a given mitzvah is an expression of God’s mercies, as implied by the text discussed below? This latter statement bothers the Sefat Emet, once again in his sermons for 5631, s.v. Bamidrash:

In the Midrash on the mitzvah of the bird’s nest. It appears that even though in truth it is an expression of God’s compassion, nevertheless a person should not perform the mitzvah except because it is the edict of the Omnipresent. And this is what is meant by “One [i.e., a prayer leader] who says, ‘Your compassion extends to the bird’s nest [is to be silenced]” [m. Berakhot 5.3]. That is, a person should not speak thus, even though the thing is true, because man’s apprehension does not extend to the edicts of God, in the sense of compassion, but only to their being edicts, like a servant who carries out his master’s words, as above. And, in a parenthetical comment (whose position I have slightly altered for easier understanding), the Sefat Emet adds:

And I was asked about this regarding the wording of the Talmud, “because he makes the attributes of the Holy One blessed be He mercy, and they are naught but edicts” [ad loc. 33b]. And I answered that the meaning of “His attributes” [midotav] is “measure”—that is, the manner in which God contracted His will in Torah and mitzvot, so that it might be available to man in such a manner that he may be able to perform the Divine will in practice. Similarly, the meaning of the term gezerah (edict) according to the Holy Zohar is derived from the word “a piece” or “part”—that is, something cut or torn away from the innerness of the Torah; and this is not by compassion. But the source of the mitzvot is in heaven, in God who is filled with compassion. And this is what is meant by “the attributes [measures] of the Holy One blessed be He.“

Here, he provides the theological underpinning for this distinction. God’s “attributes” do not refer, as usually thought, to how or what God is in Himself, but rather to the “measure” by which he “cuts” or “tailors” the Torah to man’s measure—i.e., what man is capable of comprehending or performing in practice. This is an elegant solution to the problem, that redirects many problems about the mitzvot of the Torah from the issue of God’s mercy, righteousness, etc, to that of how He adopted His self to the limited, small world in which we human beings find ourselves.