Daf Ditty Megillah 28: Traces of Kedusha/ τέμενος

deconsecration

as the evening prayers cast

shadows on stained plastic windows

we godspeak to the rhythm

of backfiring buses

and the strains of merengue

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from the neighboring building

to which half the empty room

is subconsciously swaying

on leaving we

steady ourselves

by the side fence

voices mute with exile

as the rats find shelter

stuffing themselves into cracks

like prayer notes

and a little girl

hoists herself

up onto the fence bars

pointing to

the color topped needles

scattered like toys

suddenly left.

there is no

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shofar blown

no candles lit

there are no

elaborate ceremonies of

holy objects shaken or paraded

no ancient prayers read backwards

in mournful melody

one day it just

ends

and the next time

i return

the star of david is semi-

obscured by a sign advertising a

sale on platanos

and the ghostly discoloration

of hebrew lettering removed

from above the

front entrance now

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overlooks a gaptoothed

woman behind a stained card table

loudly selling

packs of men’s underwear

for a peso.

old shul: shadows PINNY BULMAN

MISHNA: And Rabbi Yehuda said further: A synagogue that fell into ruin still may not be
used for a mundane purpose. Therefore, one may not eulogize in it. And nor may one stretch
out and repair ropes in it. The wide expanse of the synagogue would have been particularly
suitable for this. And nor may one spread animal traps within it. And nor may one spread out
produce upon its roof to dry. And nor may one make it into a shortcut.

The halakha that a synagogue in disrepair still may not be used for mundane purposes is derived
from a verse, as it is stated:

,‫ָח ְרָבּה‬ ‫ָﬠ ֵריֶכם‬-‫ֶאת‬ ‫לא ְוָנַתִתּי‬ 31 And I will make your cities a waste, and will bring your
,‫שׁיֶכם; ְול ֹא ָא ִריַח‬ ֵ ‫ִמְקְדּ‬-‫ַוֲהִשׁמּוִֹתי ֶאת‬ sanctuaries unto desolation, and I will not smell the
.‫ְבּ ֵריַח ִניֹחֲחֶכם‬ savour of your sweet odours.
Lev 26:31

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 “And I will bring desolation to your sanctuaries” The fact that the word “sanctuaries” appears
after the word “desolation” indicates that their sanctity remains upon them even when they are
desolate.

However, if grass sprang up of its own accord in the ruined synagogue, although it is not befitting
its sanctity, one should not pick it, due to the anguish that it will bring to those who see it. It will
remind them of the disrepair of the synagogue and the need to rebuild it.

GEMARA: The Sages taught in a baraita: With regard to synagogues: One may not act inside
them with frivolity. Therefore, one may not eat in them; nor may one drink in them.

and one may not adorn oneself inside them; nor may one wander about inside them; nor may
one enter them in the sun for protection from the sun, or in the rain to find shelter from the
rain; nor may one offer a eulogy inside them for an individual, which is a private event.
However, one may read the Bible inside them, and one may study halakhot inside them, and
one may offer a eulogy inside them for a Torah scholar, if the public attends the eulogy.

Rabbi Yehuda said: When does this apply? When the synagogues are occupied by the people
using them. But when they are in a state of ruin, they should be left alone so that grass will
sprout up inside them. And that grass should not be picked and removed, due to the anguish
that it will bring to those who see it. It will remind them of the disrepair of the synagogue and the
need to rebuild it.

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Rav Asi said: Synagogues in Babylonia are built from the outset with a stipulation that they
not have the full sanctity of a synagogue, in order that it be permitted to use them for the
community’s general needs. But nevertheless, one should not act inside them with frivolity.
The Gemara explains: What is meant by this? One should not make business calculations in a
synagogue.

Rav Asi said: With regard to a synagogue in which people make business calculations, they
will eventually keep a corpse inside it overnight. The Gemara questions the wording of this
dictum: Can it really enter your mind to say that they will ever actually keep a corpse inside it
overnight? Could it really be that there will not be any other alternative? Rather, Rav Asi
means that as a punishment for acting with frivolity people in the community will die, including
those who have no family, and so ultimately, they will have to keep a corpse with no one to
bury it [met mitzva] overnight in the synagogue.

Summary

Introduction1

In this mishnah Rabbi Judah teaches that the holiness of a synagogue remains even if it has fallen
into ruins. Rabbi Judah applies the holiness of the Temple in Jerusalem to the synagogue of the
post-destruction period. Just as the holiness of the Temple and the Temple Mount remained even
when Jerusalem was destroyed, so too the holiness of a synagogue remains when it physically lies
in ruins. There is a deep message in this mishnah. The holiness of the synagogue is not dependent
upon the existence of its physical structure. Once people have treated the place as holy, it will
retain that sanctity forever.

1https://www.sefaria.org/Megillah.28a.22?lang=bi&p2=Mishnah_Megillah.3.3&lang2=bi&w2=English%20Explanation%20of%
20Mishnah&lang3=en

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Rabbi Judah said further: a synagogue that has fallen into ruins, they may not eulogize in it,
nor twist ropes, nor to spread nets [to trap animals], nor to lay out produce on its roof [to
dry], nor to use it as a short cut, as it says, “And I will desolate your holy places” (Leviticus
26:3 their holiness remains even when they are desolate.

One may not use a synagogue that lays in ruins for a profane, everyday purpose. One cannot deliver
eulogies in it because eulogies are not delivered in synagogues, even when they have been
destroyed. [As an aside, the custom to deliver eulogies and conduct funerals inside synagogues is
a modern custom, probably borrowed from the Christians. Jews used to deliver eulogies either at
the cemetery on the path on the way there.] One can’t use it as a place of work. The mishnah uses
the example of “twisting rope” because twisting rope requires space, but it means that no work
should be done there. It should not be used to trap animals, nor should its roof be used to dry out
fruit. One shouldn’t use it as a short cut. In summary, it should only be entered for its intended
purpose as a place of worship and Torah study. The mishnah uses a midrash, exegesis of a biblical
verse, to prove this point. In a section in which God rebukes Israel, He threatens that He will
“desolate your holy places.” The fact that the verse calls these places holy implies that they retain
their holiness even when they have been destroyed.

If grass comes up in it, it should not be plucked, [in order to elicit] melancholy.

The mishnah now changes direction and seems to acknowledge that there is some significance to
the synagogue’s having been destroyed. According to the theology reflected in this mishnah, a
destroyed synagogue is sign of God’s wrath, which comes as a result of Israel’s sin. When one
sees grasses growing in a synagogue, a person will surely experience deep sadness. It will remind
him that the synagogue was destroyed and that he should repent. It will also remind him that he
should dedicate himself to rebuilding the synagogue as quickly as possible.

How to Live for a Long Time; How to Use a Synagogue

We examine two major issues today.2 The first is how our rabbis justify and explain their
longevity. A number of different rabbis answer this question. Many concepts are repeated. Of
course, I find some of their reasoning more appealing and some less so. Some of the explanations
that I enjoy including the idea that they were rewarded for treating others with respect, for not
taking pleasure in the misfortune of others, for being openhanded with money (letting others keep
the change). However, modesty was not explicitly mentioned. It always surprises me when I read
the rabbis' descriptions of their own exemplary behaviour.

The second major issue discussed today is the use of a synagogue. Clearly, an abandoned
synagogue should be rebuilt. In fact, the rabbis suggest that we do not pick any grass that is

2 http://dafyomibeginner.blogspot.com/2014/08/

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growing in an unused synagogue. We allow the synagogue to look unkempt so that people will be
moved to rebuild. In functional synagogues, we should be careful to use them only for prayer and
study. Frivolity - including eating, drinking, speaking idly, speaking about business - should be
avoided. The punishment for doing such things is harsh, including fasting, lashes, and ongoing
silence in the synagogue. The rabbis note that scholars might be forced to eat or change clothes in
the synagogue, and so such things are permitted.

Again, today's daf points to the very marked social ladder of ancient times. And Talmud scholars
sit at the top of that ladder. We learn that 'history is written by the winners'; Talmud is a brilliant
example of a historical document that preaches the superiority of those who wrote it. And I do not
say this with any intended disrespect - the rabbis were brilliant. However, if the social make-up
of antiquity were different, we might also learn about the thoughts and reasoning of other, less
privileged ancestors.

Rav Avrohom Adler writes:3

The disciples of Rabbi Preida asked him: In reward of what have you been living so many years?
He replied: In all my years, I was always the first into the Beis Medrash; I never recited the Grace
after Meals when a Kohen was present; I never ate from an animal before the priestly gifts were
separated. The Gemora cites a source for this: For Rabbi Yitzchak quotes Rabbi Yochanan saying
that one may not eat from an animal before the gifts are separated, and Rabbi Yitzchak said: If one
does, it is tantamount to eating tevel – produce before terumah and maaser are separated. The
Gemora says we do not rule like these statements. Rabbi Preida had said: I never recited the Grace
after Meals when a Kohen was present.

The Gemora asks: is this a good thing? But Rabbi Yochanan said: If a Torah scholar allows even
a Kohen Gadol who is an ignoramus to say Grace after Meals before him, that Torah scholar is
liable to death, as it says: All that hate me [mesanne'ai] love death; do not read mesanne'ai [that
hate me], but masni'ai [that cause others to hate me]? The Gemora answers: When Rabbi Yochanan
made this remark, he was thinking of equals.

The disciples of Rabbi Nechunya ben Hakanah asked him: In reward of what have you been living
so many years? He replied: In all my years, I never derived honor from my friend’s shame; I would
forgive anyone who aggravated me or even cursed me before I went to sleep; I was generous with
my money.

The Gemora elaborates I never derived honor from my friend’s shame, as illustrated by Rav Huna
who once was carrying a spade on his shoulder when Rav Chana bar Chanilai wanted to take it
from him, but he (Rav Huna) said to him, “If you are accustomed to carry in your own town, take
it, but if not, I do not want to derive honor through your shame. I would forgive anyone who
aggravated me or even cursed me before I went to sleep This is illustrated by Mar Zutra, who,
when he climbed into his bed said, “I forgive all who have aggravated us.” I have been generous

3 http://dafnotes.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/Megillah_28.pdf

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with my money, as a master has said: Job was generous with his money; he used to leave with the
shopkeeper a perutah of his own money.

The Gemora presents another version: Rabbi Akiva asked Rabbi Nechunya the great: In reward of
what have you been living so many years? His servants came and beat him (R’ Akiva), so he (R’
Akiva) went and sat on the top of a date tree (to escape the beatings), and said to him (R’
Nechunya): “My teacher, seeing that it says, ‘a lamb’, why does it also say ‘one’?” Thereupon, he
(R’ Nechunya) said, “He is a rabbinical student, leave him alone.” He then answered his question,
saying: ‘One’ means ‘unique in its flock.’ Rabbi Nechunya continued: Then he said to him: I never
accepted gifts; I did not demand reprisal against those that caused me distress; I was generous with
my money.

The Gemora elaborates I have not accepted gifts, as illustrated by Rabbi Elozar, for whenever
Rabbi Elozar was sent a gift from the house of the Nasi, he would not accept it, and whenever he
was invited to dine there, he would not go, for he used to say: It seems that the master does not
want me to live, for it is written: One who hates gifts shall live. Whenever Rabbi Zeira was sent a
gift, he would not accept it, but whenever he was invited to dine there, he would go, for he used to
say: They are honored by having me as their guest. Nor did I demand reprisal against those that
caused me distress, as Rava said: He who waives his right to retribution is forgiven all his sins, as
it written: He pardons transgressions and passes over iniquity. Whose transgressions are forgiven.
The transgression of one who passes over iniquity.

Rebbe asked of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korchah: In reward of what have you been living so many
years? He said to him: Do you begrudge me my life? Rebbe said to him: This is a point of Torah,
and it is important for me to learn. He replied: In all my years, I never looked at the face of an evil
person. For Rabbi Yochanan said: It is forbidden for a man to gaze at the face of an evil person,
as it says: Were it not that I regard the presence of Yehoshaphat the king of Yehudah, I would not
look toward you nor see you. Rabbi Elozar said: His eyes become dim, as it says: And it came to
pass that when Yitzchak was old that his eyes were dim, so that he could not see; this was because
he used to gaze at the wicked Esav.

The Gemora asks: But was that the cause? But Rabbi Yitzchak said: The curse of an ordinary
person shall never seem of small account to you, for Avimelech cursed Sarah, and it was fulfilled
in her seed, as it says: Behold it is for you a covering [kesus] of honor. Do not read ‘kesus,’ but
rather ‘kesiyas’ [blinding]? The Gemora answers: Both caused the affliction. Rava said. We learn
it from here: It is not good to regard the face of the wicked. When he (Rebbe) was about to depart
(from R’ Yehoshua), Rebbe said to him, “Bless me.” He said to him: May it be Heaven's will that
you attain to

half my days. Rebbe exclaimed: Not to their whole length!? Rabbi Yehoshua replied: Shall those
who succeed you (if you live as long as me), pasture cattle (for they will not inherit your
greatness)? Avuha bar Ihi and Minyamin bar Ihi both praised themselves for a certain practice:
One said: May I be rewarded because I have never gazed at a Cuthite (an idolater), and the other
said: May I be rewarded because I have never gone into partnership with a Cuthite.

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The disciples of Rabbi Zeira asked him: In reward of what have you been living so many years?
He replied: In all my years, I never expressed anger in my house; I never walked in front of
someone greater than me; I didn’t think about Torah matters in dirty alleyways; I never walked
four amos without studying Torah and without wearing tefillin; I never slept in the Beis Medrash,
not even a nap; I never rejoiced when my friend stumbled; I never called anyone by a nickname.

The Mishna states: Furthermore, Rabbi Yehudah rules regarding a synagogue that has been
destroyed and lies in ruins: One may not eulogize people there; one is not allowed to twist ropes
there; one cannot spread nets in it; One is not permitted to spread fruits to dry on its roof; One is
forbidden from using it as a shortcut.

The Mishna cites a Scriptural verse which indicates that a synagogue retains its sanctity even when
it is desolate. Grass that grows in the ruined synagogue should not be uprooted because the grass
will arouse the community to pray for its rebuilding.

The Gemora cites a braisa: One is not permitted to conduct himself with levity in a synagogue;
One is not permitted to eat or drink there; One is not allowed to adorn himself there; One is not
permitted to take strolls there; One cannot enter there with the intention of avoiding the heat or the
rains; One may not deliver a eulogy for an ordinary person there. However, one is permitted to
read the Torah there, study Mishna and deliver a eulogy for a Torah scholar there. Rabbi Yehudah
said: When is this? When they (the synagogues) are still in use; but when they are abandoned,
grass is allowed to grow in them, and it should not be plucked, so as to inspire grief. The Gemora
interjects: Who was speaking about grass?

The Gemora answers: There is as if there is an omission, and the statement should read as follows:
They should be swept and watered so that grass should not grow in them. Rabbi Yehudah said:
When is this? When they are still in use; but when they are abandoned, grass is allowed to grow
in them, and it should not be plucked, so as to inspire grief.

Rav Assi rules: The synagogues in Bavel were built on a condition that they will be permitted to
use after their destruction; however, there still would be a prohibition against acting with levity
there; therefore, one should not make calculations there. Rav Assi said: A synagogue in which
people make calculations will eventually be used for keeping a dead body in overnight. The
Gemora asks: You actually think it is used for keeping a dead body in? Is there no way otherwise?
[Why would there be such an obligation?]

The Gemora answers: Unattended corpses will be kept there overnight. The braisa had stated: Nor
to adorn oneself in it. Rava said: The Sages and their disciples are permitted, since Rabbi Yehoshua
ben Levi has said: What is the meaning of ‘Bei Rabbanan’? The house for Torah scholars. The
braisa had stated: Nor to go into them in summer to escape the heat and in the rainy season to
escape the rain. For instance, Ravina and Rav Adda bar Masnah were once standing and asking
questions of Rava when a shower of rain came on. They went into the synagogue, saying, “Why
we have gone into the synagogue is not because of the rain, but because the discussion of a halachic
point requires clarity, like a clear day of the north wind.”

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Rav Ashi told Rav Acha the son of Rava: If one needs to call his friend out from the synagogue,
he should enter and study one halachah. If he only knows Mishna, he should recite a Mishna. If he
only knows Scripture, he should recite a verse. If he cannot learn anything, he should ask a child
to read for him a verse in the Torah that he is currently learning or he should walk around in the
synagogue, which is also regarded as a mitzvah.

The braisa had stated: To deliver public eulogies in them. What is meant by a public eulogy? Rav
Chisda motioned: For instance, a eulogy at which Rav Shishes is present. Rav Sheishes motioned:
For instance, a eulogy at which Rav Chisda is present. Rafram had a eulogy delivered for his
daughter-inlaw in the synagogue, saying: To pay honor to me and to the dead, all the people will
come. Rabbi Zeira delivered a eulogy for a certain rabbinical student in the synagogue, saying:
Whether to pay honor to me or to pay honor to the dead, all the public will come.

Rish Lakish delivered a eulogy for a certain rabbinical student who frequented the Land of Israel
and who used to repeat halachos before twenty-four rows of disciples. He said: Woe! The Land of
Israel has lost a great man. On the other hand, there was a certain man who used to learn halachos,
Sifra and Sifrei and Tosefta and when he died, they came and said to Rav Nachman: Master, will
you deliver a eulogy for him, and he said: How are we to deliver a eulogy over him: Woe! A basket
full of books has been lost!

The Gemora notes: Observe now the difference between the haughty scholars of the Land of Israel
and the pious of Babylon. We have learned a Mishna elsewhere: Whoever makes use of a crown
(of Torah) passes away from the world, and Rish Lakish commented: This applies to one who
accepts service from one who learns halachos and Ulla said: A man may accept service from one
who learned four (out of the six) orders of the Mishna, but not from one who taught them. This is
illustrated by the following story of Rish Lakish, ashe was once traveling along a road when he
came to a pool of water, and a man came up and put him on his shoulders and began taking him
across. He said to the man: Have you learned the Scriptures? He answered: I have. Have you
learned the Mishna? He replied: I have learned four orders of the Mishna.

Rish Lakish thereupon said: You have hewn four orders and you carry Rish Lakish on your
shoulder? Throw the son of Lakish into the water! He replied: I would sooner that your honor tells
me something. If so, he replied, learn from me this dictum which was said by Rabbi Zeira: Jewish
women have adopted the stringency that they wait for seven clean days, even if they only saw a
small drop of blood the size of a mustard seed. (28b) It was learned in a braisa from Eliyahu: One
who learns halachos is guaranteed to merit the World to Come, as it says: The ways of the world
are his. Do not read ‘halichos’ (ways); rather, read halachos.

FORGIVING BEFORE SLEEPING

The Gemora states: Rabbi Nechunya ban Hakanah said that one of the meritorious acts that he
performed earning him longevity was the fact that he never went to bed to go to sleep before
forgiving anyone that harmed him in any manner. The Rosh Yosef explains the reasoning for this:
At night, a person's neshama ascends to the heavens to receive judgment on all the day's actions.
While in heaven, the neshama, if the person merits, is able to enter into the room of Hashem and
listen to hidden secrets.

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The Gemora in Shabbos (149b) states: A person, that someone else is punished on his account,
does not merit enter this private chamber. That is why it is integral to forgive anyone that harmed
you before falling asleep. Rabbi Nechunya waited the entire day because he wanted to give the
people that caused him to harm a chance to repent on their own and to perform the mitzva of
repenting.

It is said over regarding the Skulener Rebbe that there was a person that went out of his way every
day to pain the Rebbe and cause him grief. Yet, the Rebbe greeted him every morning with a
cheerful "good morning" and a huge smile. When asked to explain himself, the Rebbe said that
before going to sleep, he forgives everyone, and each day is a new beginning. Every person
deserves a cheerful greeting.

COMPLETING ONE'S LIFESPAN OR ADDING TO IT

Rav Mordechai Kornfeld writes:4

The Gemara (27b-28a) records a number of incidents wherein the Talmidim of a Tana or Amora
asked their teacher how he merited to live such a long life. In each case, the Tana or Amora
answered by relating an act (or acts) of especially upright conduct which he practiced. In the
middle of the Sugya, the Gemara relates that Rebbi Akiva once asked Rebbi Nechunya ha'Gadol
how he merited to live so long. Rebbi Nechunya's attendants thought that Rebbi Akiva asked his
question mockingly, as though he was upset that Rebbi Nechunya had lived so long, and they
began to hit him. Rebbi Akiva escaped to the top of a tree from where he called to Rebbi Nechunya,
"If the Torah says, '[You shall prepare] a lamb' (Bamidbar 28:4), then why does it add the word
'one (Keves Echad)'?"

Rebbi Nechunya understood from Rebbi Akiva's question that he was a genuine Talmid Chacham,
and he ordered his attendants to leave Rebbi Akiva alone. Rebbi Akiva then answered his own
question: the Torah adds the word "Echad" (one) to teach that the lamb must be the most special
lamb of its flock.

Rebbi Nechunya informed Rebbi Akiva why he merited to live so long. "I never accepted any
presents, I never stood up for my due (to get back at someone who had wronged me), and I was
forgoing with my money."

This incident needs clarification. Why were the attendants so upset with Rebbi Akiva's question
to Rebbi Nechunya, and what did Rebbi Nechunya see that changed his viewpoint about Rebbi
Akiva's question?

4 https://dafyomi.co.il/megilah/insites/mg-dt-028.htm

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RAV YAAKOV D. HOMNICK (in MARBEH B'SIMCHAH on Maseches Megilah) explains
as follows. The Gemara in Yevamos (49b) records a dispute among the Tana'im about the meaning
of Hashem's blessing to His people, "The number of your days I shall fill" (Shemos 23:26). The
Beraisa there says that the blessing refers to the days of a person's lifespan. Rebbi Akiva says that
if a person is worthy, Hashem lets the person live his entire allotted time. If a person is unworthy,
Hashem cuts his life short and takes him before his allotted time is completed. The Chachamim
disagree and say that if a person is worthy, Hashem adds to his allotted time (and not that Hashem
merely keeps the person alive for his allotted time). Since Rebbi Akiva is the minority opinion, the
Halachah should follow the Chachamim.

For this reason, the attendants of Rebbi Nechunya became upset with Rebbi Akiva when he asked
how their master merited to live so long. Since his extra years were a blessing of addition to his
allotted lifespan, it was not proper to speak about it openly because a "blessing [of addition] exists
only upon something which is hidden from the eye" (Bava Metzia 42a). They feared that by
revealing the extra years granted to Rebbi Nechunya and discussing why he was blessed, the
blessing would become one that was no longer hidden and, as a result, cease to continue.

Rebbi Akiva, however, was acting according to his own opinion (in Yevamos) that when a person
lives for a very long time, those years are not an addition to his allotted life but rather a blessing
from Hashem to live out his allotted time (which, in Rebbi Nechunya's case, happened to be a very
long time). Therefore, Rebbi Akiva wanted to know the proper manner of conduct which brings
merit to complete one's allotted lifespan. Since that does not involve a blessing of extra, additional
years, it is not subject to the requirement that it remain "hidden from the eye."

Rebbi Akiva conveyed his intention by hinting to the lamb of the Korban Tamid. One who
consistently uses each day of his life to carry out Hashem's will -- thereby fulfilling his "daily
obligation" like the Korban Tamid -- will merit to live for his entire allotted lifespan.

Rebbi Akiva's intent is also evident in Rebbi Nechunya's response. When Rebbi Nechunya
understood that Rebbi Akiva was asking how he managed to live for his allotted time (and not how
he merited to have additional years added to his lifespan) he answered, "I never accepted any
presents," meaning that he felt full and satisfied with his portion in life and needed nothing else.
Measure for measure, he was awarded with the full portion of his lifespan. Similarly, "I never
stood up for my due, and I was forgoing with my money" -- he trusted in Hashem to repay his due
in full measure, for which he was rewarded with fully living out his allotted years.

This is the only incident of all of the incidents recorded by the Gemara which discusses the ways
to merit fully living one's allotted lifespan, since the question in this incident was posed by Rebbi
Akiva. All of the other cases are in accordance with the view of the Chachamim in Yevamos, and
thus they discuss how to add to one's lifespan.

A remarkable support for this understanding can be found in the words of the MESILAS
YESHARIM. The Mesilas Yesharim (ch. 19) writes that these stories teach how to act with the
attribute of Chasidus (adding to the requirement of the law) for which one will be rewarded
measure for measure by having more time added to his allotted lifespan. The Mesilas Yesharim
cites a number of the stories mentioned in the Gemara before the incident with Rebbi Akiva and

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Rebbi Nechunya, and he also cites the story of Rebbi Zeira which follows the one with Rebbi
Akiva. Why does he entirely omit the story of Rebbi Akiva?

According to the above approach, the reason for the omission is that the story of Rebbi Akiva does
not demonstrate how to add to one's lifespan, but rather how to merit completing one's allotted
time.

This explains why -- when Rebbi Nechunya said that he never accepted any presents -- the Gemara
cites an example for this attribute from the conduct of Rebbi Zeira, who never accepted presents.
In the very next case of the Gemara, however, Rebbi Zeira was asked how he merited to live so
long. He answered with six reasons, but he did not mention that he never accepted presents! It
must be that the conduct of not accepting presents is a reason to have one's allotted time completed,
but not a reason to have more years added, and thus Rebbi Zeira did not mention that attribute
when he was asked how he merited to have more time added to his life.

ASKING FOR REWARD FOR FULFILLING MITZVOS

The Gemara quotes the Amora'im, Avuhah Bar Ihi and Minyamin Bar Ihi, who praised themselves
for their virtuous conduct. One praised himself ("Teisi Li" -- "I will be rewarded") for never
looking at a Kusi. The other praised himself for never entering a partnership with a Kusi.

Similarly, the Gemara later (29a) quotes Abaye who praised himself ("Teisi Li") for traveling a
long distance to pray in the synagogue in Bavel where the Divine Presence rested.
In a number of other places, the Gemara quotes Amora'im who publicly prided themselves in a
Mitzvah they performed by saying "Teisi Li" ("I will be rewarded") for that Mitzvah (see Rashi to
Shabbos 119a and Bechoros 30a, DH Teisi Li). For example, the Gemara in Shabbos (118b) quotes
Amora'im who said "I will be rewarded" for doing Mitzvos such as eating three meals on Shabbos,
praying with Kavanah, and performing the Mitzvos of Tefilin and Tzitzis properly. The Gemara
later in Shabbos (119a) quotes Rava who said, "I will be rewarded because I love Talmidei
Chachamim so much that when a Talmid Chacham is involved in litigation, I do not go to sleep
until I research whether there is a way to exonerate him." Similar expressions are found in Moed
Katan (17a) and Erchin (16a).

However, a number of sources teach that it is inappropriate to pride oneself in his virtuous deeds.
The Mishnah in Avos (2:8) says, "If you have learned much Torah, do not attribute worthiness to
yourself." The Midrash (Shemos Rabah 44) says, "If you have performed a Mitzvah, do not seek
a reward." In the same vein, the Mishnah in Avos (1:3) says, "Do not be like servants who serve
their master in order to receive compensation."

Similarly, the Gemara in Sanhedrin (93b) points out that the Sefer which Nechemyah penned is
called "the Book of Ezra" and not "the Book of Nechemyah," because Nechemyah erred by
publicly giving credit to himself for his accomplishments when he said, "May my G-d remember
me for good, for all that I did for this nation" (Nechemyah 5:19). The Gemara there concludes that
one is not supposed to make such statements unless they are part of a prayer during a time of need.
In light of these exhortations, why were the Amora'im justified in requesting reward for their
deeds?

14
The RIF in the EIN YAKOV (Shabbos 118b) explains that when an Amora said "Teisi Li," he
meant that "although I might not have served Hashem in the best possible way, at least I did this
Mitzvah and therefore I should not be punished for what I failed to do." He explains that when
Rav Nachman (in Shabbos) said that he should be rewarded because he fulfilled the Mitzvah of
having three meals on Shabbos, he meant that even though he did not eat the fourth meal that Rebbi
Chidka there requires, he should not be punished but rather he should be rewarded for what he did
fulfill. When Rav Yehudah there said that he prayed with Kavanah, he meant that "while failure
to concentrate during prayer is one of the three sins which every person commits every day (Bava
Basra 164b), and I certainly erred regarding two of them like everyone else, nevertheless since I
did not err with regard to the third -- praying with Kavanah -- I should at least be rewarded for
that."

Support for this approach may be found in TOSFOS in Ta'anis (7a). Tosfos quotes a Midrash in
which the Amora Shmuel scorns those who waste their time studying astronomy instead of
learning Torah. When his students asked him how he himself became an expert in astronomy, he
replied "Teisi Li, that I studied astronomy only when I was in the bathroom." He was saying that
even though he spent time studying astronomy, it was done in a way that did not take him away
from his Torah learning.

However, this approach does not seem to explain the other occasions of "Teisi Li," such as when
Rav Sheshes and Rav Nachman said "Teisi Li" for fulfilling the Mitzvos of Tefilin and Tzitzis
properly.

The MAHARSHA in Shabbos explains that there is a certain type of reward which a person may
request. That reward is the type of reward mentioned in the Mishnah in Avos (4:2): "The reward
for a Mitzvah is the opportunity to perform another Mitzvah." The Amora'im asked Hashem to
provide them with further opportunities to do these Mitzvos, since they put forth so much effort
into fulfilling them properly in the past.

TOSFOS in Bechoros (2b, DH Shema) points out that the expression "Teisi Li" appears only with
regard to deeds which one is not obligated to perform, or which most people are not careful to do
properly. (The Amora'im who praised themselves for observing the Mitzvos of Tefilin and Tzitzis
meant that they never walked four Amos without Tefilin or Tzitzis, as Rashi explains, or,
alternatively, most people around them indeed did not perform these Mitzvos properly; see Tosfos
to Shabbos 49a, DH k'Elisha, and Rashi to Shabbos 130a, d'Amar Rebbi Yanai.)

Perhaps a person may not demand reward for a Mitzvah which Hashem commanded him to do.
However, when a person performs a Mitzvah in a way which is above and beyond the minimum
obligation, perhaps it is not considered inappropriate to ask for reward. (Support for this may be
inferred from the Mishnah in Avos (2:8) which says, " If you have learned much Torah, do not
attribute worthiness to yourself, because it was for this that you were created" -- that is, one is
obligated to learn as much Torah as he can, and thus there is never a point at which he can ask for
reward for learning "more.")

15
(RITVA in Shabbos explains that the reason why the Amora'im praised themselves for fulfilling
the Mitzvos of Tefilin and Tzitzis is because they excelled in the performance of those Mitzvos,
as Rashi explains. The Ritva infers from the Gemara there that every Talmid Chacham should
choose one Mitzvah to fulfill in the most ideal manner, with scrupulous attention to every detail.
The Ritva's words may be based on what the RAMBAM writes in Perush ha'Mishnayos at the end
of Makos.

The Mishnah there (23b) states that Hashem wanted to give the Jewish people the opportunity to
earn reward, and therefore He gave them many Mitzvos. The Rambam asks, how does the presence
of many Mitzvos provide more opportunity for reward? On the contrary, if there are more Mitzvos
to observe, their fulfillment is more difficult and there is more opportunity for punishment! The
Rambam explains that when a person properly fulfills just one Mitzvah with no ulterior motives
but entirely Lishmah and out of love for Hashem, he will merit Olam ha'Ba. The Mishnah means
that Hashem gave many Mitzvos so that a person would find it easy to choose at least one of them
to observe in an outstanding manner.

Perhaps this is what the Amora'im meant when they said, "Teisi Li." They were not demanding
reward, but rather they were saying that "any reward that I receive will be because of this Mitzvah,
because this is the Mitzvah which I fulfilled in the most outstanding manner."

This also seems to be the intention of the IYEI HA'YAM cited by the ETZ YOSEF in Shabbos.
He explains that the Amora'im meant to say that "if you see that I receive reward, then know that
it is because of this Mitzvah."

This approach may resolve a question in the commentary of Rashi in Shabbos. When the Amora'im
there (118b) said "Teisi Li" for the respective Mitzvos listed there, Rashi does not explain the
meaning of the words "Teisi Li." He explains these words only later in Shabbos (on 119a), when
the Gemara quotes Rava who said, "Teisi Li because I love Talmidei Chachamim." Rashi there
says "Teisi Li" means that "I will be rewarded." Why does Rashi not explain these words earlier
when they first appear in the Gemara? (See IYUN YAKOV.)

The answer might be that had Rashi explained these words earlier, then we would have been
bothered by the question of why the Amora'im demanded reward for their good deeds. When Rava
said that he would receive reward for loving Talmidei Chachamim, it was clear that he was not
requesting any form of material reward, because Rava himself says earlier in Shabbos (23b) that
one who loves Talmidei Chachamim will be rewarded by having children who are Talmidei
Chachamim. Rava was not asking to be rewarded, but rather he was explaining that if he has
children who are Talmidei Chachamim, everyone should know that it is because of his love for
Talmidei Chachamim. That is why Rashi waited until there to explain the meaning of "Teisi Li."

16
Steinzaltz (OBM) writes:5

Given its holiness, a synagogue should not be used for private or profane purposes:

• Eating and drinking in a synagogue should be avoided.

• One should not take refuge there on a rainy (or hot) day.
• It should not be used for a private funeral, although a larger funeral can be held there.

The Gemara tells of Sages who offered eulogies for others in the synagogue, arguing that it was a
public occasion since people would come either to honor the dead or to hear the Sage speak.

The Gemara contrasts two such funerals. In the first, Reish Lakish offered a eulogy for a scholar
who occasionally visited Israel and passed away there, teaching “in the 24th row.” In his eulogy,
Reish Lakish cried over the loss of this great Sage. When Rav Nachman was asked to offer a
eulogy for a scholar who was known to have studied all of the Rabbinic works, he refused to do
so, saying, “What should I say? ‘The great bookcase is missing?'” (i.e., he had little respect for the
scholar who had studied much material but did not have a deep understanding of what he had
learned). The Gemara uses this to contrast the sensitivity of the Rabbinic Sages of Israel (where
Reish Lakish lived) with the lack of sensitivity shown by the Sages of Bavel.

This contrast is highlighted further by an alternate view of the scholar who received the eulogy
from Reish Lakish. The story related that he taught in the 24th row. Rashi understands this to mean
that he taught 24 rows of students, attesting to his prowess as a scholar and teacher. Others
understand it differently. During the times of the Mishnah and Talmud – particularly in Israel when
the Sanhedrin was still operating – the typical seating arrangement in the Torah academies was set
up by knowledge and seniority. At the head sat the Sage, who taught the group while facing his
students. The first row of students was the most scholarly in the group; the second row had the
lesser scholars, and so on until the very last row – the 24th row – where the weakest students sat.
Thus, the visiting Babylonian student who received a eulogy from Reish Lakish may have been a
very weak student.

The Gemara our daf (Megilla 28a) tells us that the simple viewing of an evil person's face is
destructive and damaging to the soul.6 When Moshe was first approached by Hashem and told to
go to Egypt to take the Jewish people out, he resisted to accept the appointment (Shemos 3:11).

In Ateres Mordechai, Rabbi Mordechai Rogow, zt” l, explains. Among other things, Moshe was
concerned that as representative of the people, he would have to confront Pharaoh and deal with

5 https://www.ou.org/life/torah/masechet_megillah2329/

6 https://www.dafdigest.org/masechtos/Megilla%20028.pdf

17
him, thus exposing himself to Pharaoh's cruel nature and evil character. Moshe was concerned that
listening to Pharoah’s blasphemous pronouncements would adversely affect him. He thought that
his personal status would possibly be lowered to a degree whereby he would no longer be qualified
to take Bnei Yisrael out of Egypt. Nevertheless, Moshe did fulfill his mission, not only to go to
Pharaoh, but he also succeeded in leading the Jews out of Egypt. With the assistance and guidance
of Hashem, he was able to withstand the confrontation with Pharaoh.

This ability of Moshe is highlighted at the end of the Torah, where Moshe's unique leadership
qualities are noted. “And there has not risen a prophet since in Yisrael like Moshe, whom Hashem
knew face to face...in all the signs and the wonders which Hashem sent him to do in the land of
Egypt, to Pharaoh, and to all his servants, and to all his land. And in all the mighty hand, and in
all the great awe, which Moshe did in the sight of all Yisrael.” (Devarim 34:10-12)

The unique nature of Moshe was, in part, his willingness to approach Pharaoh, to deal and negotiate
with him, and yet not to have Pharaoh's negative and harmful disposition influence him in any
way. Even after having gone through this ordeal, Moshe was still the leader and teacher who was
able to ascend Har Sinai and bring down the Luchos before the Jewish nation. When Moshe prayed
that the new leader after him should be someone who would “go out before the people and come
in before the people” (Bamidbar 27:15-17), he was asking that the leader be someone who was
prepared to mingle with people yet be able to meet the adversaries of the nation face to face and
realize their evil nature.

This person had to possess a special personality whereby he would not be hurt as a result of these
exposures. It had to be someone with the fortitude and merit to be able to overcome these
encounters and to still lead and guide the people.

[R’ Nechunyah said:] I did not accept gifts, similar to the practice of R’ Elazar who, when sent
gifts from the Nasi’s house, did not accept it … He said to them, “Do you not want me to live? As
the pasuk states: ‘One who hates gifts will live.’”

Rambam (1) writes very strongly against those who study Torah and do not earn a living. He writes
that a person who collects tzedaka to be able to learn desecrates Hashem’s name, disgraces the
Torah and removes himself from the World-to come.

The reason is that it is prohibited for one to benefit from Torah in this world. Rav Yosef Karo (2),
the Kesef Mishnah, disagrees with Rambam’s conclusion. He first refutes all the proofs cited by
Rambam, and then proceeds to cite sources in Chazal that indicate the great value of supporting
Torah. It is illogical, he points out, that Chazal would speak of the value of supporting Torah if the
recipients could not take the money. Certainly, if one takes money for honor or to become wealthy
it is prohibited, but it is certainly permitted to take money to be able to learn without the
distractions that accompany the burden of earning a living.

18
This is the ruling cited in Shulchan Aruch (3) and Biur Halacha (4). Rav Moshe Feinstein (5) also
writes in favor of taking money to be able to learn Torah. He goes so far as to write that those who
would refrain from taking money because of Rambam’s position are under the influence of the
yetzer hara. The intention of the yetzer hara is to deceive them into entering the business world so
that not only will they not continue to learn but they will forget what they have already learned as
well.

If earlier generations felt that it was challenging to engage in business and excel at Torah, this is
true all the more so in our generation. Therefore, one should not pay attention to the yetzer hara’s
assertion that learning in kollel involves some sort of sin or lack of piety. It is, in fact, a laudable
practice.

On our daf we find that one who learns halachos every day is assured of his share in the World-
to-come. Why should one be assured of such a great reward for doing what seems to be a very
simple thing?

The students of Rav Chaim Vital, zt” l, once asked their mentor, “When the Mishnah (Shabbos,
end of perek 5) discusses the cow belonging to the neighbor of Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya that
went out with a strap between its eyes on Shabbos in violation of the will of the sages, the animal
is attributed to Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya and not its actual owner. Why was it considered his?
Because he could have protested the man’s actions and didn’t. The Yerushalmi brings that this
happened only once, yet the Tanna fasted so long as part of his penitence that his teeth became
blackened! If this is how one should repent for such a subtle flaw, how can we ever attain true
repentance and sanctity? How can we ever fast enough to negate all of our many errors?”

Rav Chaim Vital answered, “The degree of difficulty of something teaches us about its worth. In
the times of the Mishnah, the world was much closer to Sinai and there was much less spiritual
darkness. Therefore, anyone who wanted to come close to Hashem had to work quite harder.

19
Nowadays, because of the abundant darkness of exile, even just crying out from the depths of
one’s heart is as precious to Hashem as the fasts of earlier times!”

When the Yismach Yisroel of Alexander, zt” l, told this story, he applied it to our daf. “As we
know, Hashem is not a tyrant; He doesn’t demand that which we cannot produce. (Avodah Zarah
3) Today is much darker spiritually compared with what it was during the time of Rav Chaim Vital.

This is why one who learns halachos every day is assured of his share in the World-to-come. This
could be referring to learning when one finds it very difficult to do so, as it is in our time!”

The Ruins of Taormina by Thomas Cole

A synagogue in ruins

Mark Kerzner writes:7

A synagogue that has fallen into ruin and is not used for prayer nevertheless retains its sanctity.
One may not eulogize ordinary people there (unless Sages are present, which makes it a public

7 https://talmudilluminated.com/megillah/megillah28.html

20
eulogy). One may not do any kind of work there, such as making ropes or nets, or spreading fruit
on its roof. One should also not use the synagogue as a shortcut.

Why is this? - Because of the phrase, "And I will make your sanctuaries desolate." Thus, even after
they are desolate, they are still called "your sanctuaries" and retain their rights. If grass sprouts
there, one should not uproot it, in order to inspire grief.

Since one cannot enter the synagogue for personal affairs, what is he to do when he needs to call
someone out of it? - He should come in and sit down. Then, if he knows certain portions of the
Talmud or the Torah, he should recite them. If not, he can ask a child to recite for him what the
child learned today. Thus, he has converted his visit from personal to the one for study or for
prayer.

Sara Ronis writes:8

Billy Joel famously sang that “Only the Good Die Young.” Today’s daf offers a counterpoint,
continuing yesterday’s discussion about righteous rabbis who were rewarded with long life.

Today’s daf presents the cases of rabbis who were known for living until they were very old. Each
rabbi explains why he was so blessed.

Rabbi Nehunya ben Hakana was asked by his disciples: Whywere you blessed with longevity?
He said to them: In my days, I never attained veneration at my fellow’s degradation. Nor did my
fellow’s curse go up with me upon my bed. And I wasopenhanded with my money.

Rabbi Nehunya bar Hakana explains what he views as his life-extending virtues: He was careful
never to trample others for his own esteem, and he always solved interpersonal conflicts
immediately — as the adage has it, he didn’t go to bed angry. He was also generous with his
resources, which the Gemara explains as never asking for change in the marketplace.

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korha also merited long life, as we learn in this humorous exchange:

Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi asked Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korha: Why were you blessed with longevity?
He said to him: Why do you ask me, are you wearied of my long life? Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi
said to him: My teacher, it is Torah and so I must learn it. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korha said to
him: In all my days I never gazed at the likeness of a wicked man.

An old and apparently charmingly self-deprecating Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korha ascribes his good
fortune to shunning those who are evil. But later in the Gemara, we learn that he actually has mixed
feelings about living so much longer than many of his peers — offering us a chance to meditate
on the difficulties of living an exceedingly long life. He blesses his student Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi

8
Myjewishlearning.com

21
and prays for his life to be only half as long — explaining that the old must pass away to make
room for the younger generations. Perhaps his query — are you wearied of my long life? — was
more in earnest than playful jest. If long life is the reward for righteousness, Rabbi Yehoshua ben
Korha thinks it’s actually a rather mixed blessing.

Another sage, Rabbi Zeira, cites other virtues as the source of his good fortune to grow quite old:

Rabbi Zeira was asked by his disciples: Why were you blessed with longevity? He said to them:
In my days, I was never angry inside my house. Nor did I ever walk ahead of someone who was
greater than me. Nor did I meditate upon words of Torah in filthy alleyways. Nor did I walk
four cubits without Torah or without tefillin. Nor did I sleep in a study hall, neither a deep sleep
or a brief nap. Nor did I rejoice when my fellow stumbled. Nor did I call my fellow by his
derogatory nickname (hanikhato). And some say: by his nickname (hakhinato).

On the one hand, we can read these aged rabbis’ statements as offering us a list of meritorious
behaviors that will lead to a long life: respect for Torah, a commitment to mitzvot and a profound
commitment to honoring our fellow human beings. We can create a checklist and make sure that
we are crossing each of these actions off of it, to ensure our own long lives.

On the other hand, it doesn’t take a prophet or sage to look around the world and see that in fact
lots of people who perform all of these things still die tragically young. The Amora Rami bar
Hama, renowned for his wisdom and ethics — he opposed gambling (Sanhedrin 24b) and forcing
one’s wife into relations (Eruvin 100b); he also championed orphans (Gittin 37a) — famously died
young (see Bava Batra 12b and Berakhot 47b). In the latter of those two citations, the rabbis
desperately cast about for a reason. I wouldn’t go so far as to agree with Billy Joel, but looking at
the world makes it clear that righteousness just doesn’t promise long life. So what are we to make
of these rabbis’ statements?

Whether or not the rabbis can offer us a guide to a long life, their statements offer us a model for
how to live a kind life — not getting ahead at the expense of others, not calling people by
derogatory nicknames, not taking more honor than we have earned, respecting and honoring the
Torah, being generous with our money. Today’s daf suggests that, at the very least, those are the
things that make life worth living.

Rabbi Johnny Solomon writes:9

Much of Megillah 27b-28a is filled with the responses of various elderly Talmudic masters to the
question posed to them by their disciples of ‫ במה הארכת ימים‬- ‘On account of which [meritorious
practise] have you attained longevity?’.

For example, Rav Preida answered this question by stating that, ‘In all my days (‫)מימי‬, no one ever
came to the study hall before me, and I never recited Birkat HaMazon in the presence of a
Kohen, and I never ate the meat of an animal whose priestly gifts have not been separated’.

9
www.rabbijohnnysolomon.com

22
Rav Nechunya ben Hakanah answered by stating that, ‘In all my days (‫)מימי‬, I never derived
honour from the shame of another person, nor has my fellow’s curse risen onto my bed, and I
was always foregoing concerning issues involving my money’.

While Rav Zeira answered by listing a variety of his personal practices such as ‘In all my days
(‫ )מימי‬I never showed anger in my house’, and ‘nor did I ever rejoice in the stumbling of my
fellow’.

Interestingly, there is little overlap between each of the answers given by these Amoraim other
than their use of the word ‫ מימי‬- ‘in all my days’.

Based on this, as well as a related teaching in the Yerushalmi (Kiddushin 1:9), Rabbi Yechezkel
Munk10 explains that the unifying theme across all these responses was the choice of each of these
sages to consistently commit themselves to a particular series of practices, and to make these
practices a daily habit in their life.

Beyond this, it is also noteworthy that many of the practices listed by these Amoraim are generally
not considered to be ‘top priorities’ in halacha.

Acknowledging this fact, Rabbi Yehudah HaChassid writes:11

‘if you see a talmid chacham who enjoys longevity, know that he has accepted upon himself
[seemingly] trivial and minor [meritorious] deeds that others don’t do. As we see in
Massechet Megillah [where amoraim were asked]: ‘On account of which [meritorious
practise] have you attained longevity?’ they each spoke of deeds they performed that were not
[even] d’oraita (ordained by the Torah). They attached significance to practices that some
people might consider to be trivial.’

10
Paysach Krohn https://www.artscroll.com/Books/9781578197514.html
11
(Sefer Chassidim, note 210

23
 Rav Kook Torah: The Kotel - Stones with Hearts

Chanan Morrison writes:12

According to statistics released by the Israeli police, more than 10.5 million people visited the
Kotel in 2012 – by far the most visited site in the country.

What is the significance of the Kotel? Why do Jews gather from around the world to pour out their
hearts facing this ancient stone wall?
In 1937, Rav Tzvi Yehudah Kook published an article entitled, “Behind our Wall.” The rabbi chose
a title which evokes God’s constant presence at the Kotel:

Rav Tzvi Yehudah objected to the term “Wailing Wall.” He felt that this is a superficial description
of the Kotel as a place of mourning and inconsolable loss. Even worse, this name suggests the
helplessness of a weak and stateless nation.

12
https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/is-it-the-wailing-wall-or-the-western-wall/

24
More appropriate, he felt, is the name Kotel HaMa’aravi, the “Western Wall.” This term describes
the Kotel as a holy remnant of the Second Temple complex (and, in fact, the Temple Mount wall
which was located closest to the Holy of Holies).
It recalls the ancient tradition that “the Shekhinah has never left the Western Wall,” and denotes
the Kotel as a symbol of the eternal nature of Israel, despite centuries of exile and persecution. Its
unmoving stones are testimony that the Jewish people will return to their land and lofty heritage.
When originally published, the article was mistakenly attributed to Rav Kook. The article was later
printed in a collection of Rav Tzvi Yehudah Kook’s writings called LeNetivot Yisrael. Below is a
translation of parts of the article, as well as the popular song that it would inspire forty years later.

“Behind our Wall,” by Rav Tzvi Yehudah Kook

Secure and invincible with its Divine strength, the Kotel holds its own — throughout the
generations of change, transformations and vicissitudes, the horrors and the shocks, which visited
the land and its inhabitants. The Kotel is in them and with them.
Even if the disgrace of ruin conceals its beauty, and signs of destruction are displayed prominently
over it, and clouds of desolation cast shadows over its radiance; even if it is hidden behind a thicket
of dark and squalid alleys, as it is shoved aside in the cruelty of its neighbors, surrounding it from
all sides, trying to invade its borders, to suppress and consume its legacy. Nonetheless, like a stone
fortress, it stands guard, without moving and without allowing its inner dignity to be sullied. It
remains pure and exalted in the strength of its very essence...
For it is a remnant of the holy and precious, of the Divine abode. In the wonderful quality of its
very existence, it is a witness to world events and the millennia of human history.

These stones, remnants of our dwelling on high, “retain their holiness even in
desolation” (Megillah 3:3), for “the Shekhinah has never left the Western Wall”
(Tanhuma Shemot 10).... These stones are our hearts!
Each of us knows that this wall, for all of its somber simplicity and signs of ruin and exile, is not
a “Wailing Wall” for us, as it is called by strangers and foreigners. For us, it is a wealth of life, a
hidden treasure of light and strength, guarded and secured by our tears.
The healthy Jewish eye does not see in the Kotel a symbol of our nation’s ruin, destruction and
degeneration. On the contrary, we see the wall, in the hidden strength and power of its existence,
still standing — even after they fell and when they fell — as it raises itself up and reaches out with
Divine strength to eternal redemption.

Yossi Gamzu’s song — “The Kotel”

25
After the Kotel’s liberation in the Six-Day War, Israeli lyricist Yossi Gamzu composed a song
which quickly became an Israeli classic — HaKotel. Gamzu utilized imagery from Rav Tzvi
Yehudah Kook’s 1937 article. He even dedicated one stanza to Rav Tzvi Yehudah, accurately
describing the rabbi’s lofty elation in the historical event, as well as his profound love for the
Jewish soldiers who fought in the war.

The Kotel
The Kotel, moss and sadness;
The Kotel, lead and blood.

There are people with a heart of stone;

And there are stones with a human heart.
...
Together with us, facing the Kotel,
Stands an elderly rabbi, in prayer.

He said, “Fortunate are we, that we all merited this!”

Then he remembered. “But not everyone.”

He stood with glistening tears.

Alone, among the dozens of soldiers.
He said, “Under your khaki uniforms, in truth,
You are all holy Kohanim and Levites.”13

13
Stories from the Land of Israel. LeNetivot Yisrael, vol. I, pp. 22-25

26
 Does the Torah Care About Your Feelings?

Josh Yuter writes:14

Conservative political pundit Ben Shapiro is known for his famous mantra, “Facts don’t care
about your feelings.” The point, as I see it, is this: when it comes to understanding the world, we
should defer to objective reality as opposed to relying on how we feel about it. We also should not
expect those who do rely on objective data to alter their thought processes in order to conform to
our personal preferences.

I have heard similar sentiments expressed in the context of Judaism, especially in relation to Jewish
law. In fact, when Ben Shapiro spoke at Yeshiva University in 2016, the introductory speaker
remarked that a rabbi in a Judaic Studies class once answered a question with a variation of
Shapiro’s mantra: “The Halakhos don’t care about your feelings.”

Not having been in this class at the time, I cannot comment on the context in which this statement
was made. However, I believe it is important to critically evaluate the role of emotions in Biblical
and Rabbinic Judaism. As we will see, the categorical statement “Halakhah doesn’t care about
your feelings” is simply incorrect and can even lead to distortions of Torah.

On the other end of the spectrum, a halakhic ideology that frames decisions entirely through the
prism of emotions would be equally problematic. An emotional approach to Halakhah can provide
a needed corrective, but as we will also see, it is no less susceptible to its own distortions of
Judaism.

Concern for Other People’s Feelings

While obvious and hopefully uncontested, we must still acknowledge that Halakhah demonstrates
concerns for people’s feelings in interpersonal relationships. Embarrassing another individual is a
particularly grievous transgression, so much so that it is even compared to murder (Bava
Metzia 58b). Someone who embarrasses his fellow in public, even if he has Torah and good deeds,
has no portion in the world to come (m. Avot 3:11, Sanhedrin 99a). This principle against
humiliating someone even applies when rebuking someone who has committed a capital
offense (Bava Metzia 59a, Sanhedrin 107a). Humiliating another in public is so severe, we learn,

14 https://thelehrhaus.com/scholarship/does-the-torah-care-about-your-feelings/

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that it is “better [for] a person to throw himself into a fiery furnace and not embarrass his friend in
public” (Berakhot 43b, Ketubot 67b, Sotah 10b).

We also find a related concern against honoring oneself at the expense of another’s humiliation
in Megillah 28a. R. Yosi b. Haninah similarly states that one who does this also has no share in
the world to come (y. Hagigah 2:1 77c).

Aside from the warnings against public embarrassment, we also find a prohibition against ona’at
devarim, “afflicting with words,” based on Leviticus 25:17. Under this prohibition, one cannot tell
a penitent person to “remember your earlier deeds,” nor can one tell the son of a convert to
“remember the deeds of your (gentile) ancestors” with an intent to shame. Similarly, one cannot
tell someone who is suffering that they are only suffering due to their sins. The Talmud continues
that verbal affliction is even worse than monetary affliction. R. Shmuel b. Nahmani goes as far as
to say that unlike monetary affliction, verbal affliction has no restitution (Bava Metzia 58b).

I will conclude this section of examples where Jewish law is concerned with other people’s
emotions by citing Hillel’s formulation, “That which is hateful to you―do not do (to another).
This is the entire Torah, and the rest is commentary. Go and learn” (Shabbat 31a). Alternatively,
as R. Eliezer puts it, “The honor of your friend should be as dear to you as your own” (m. Avot
2:10).

Halakhic Accommodations for People’s Feelings

A more interesting question to ask is this: to what extent does Jewish law accommodate people’s
feelings or even change the standard practice in response to people’s feelings? Here, too, we find
several examples.

One instance of a ritual being modified for inclusive purposes is the practice of women laying their
hands on a peace offering before the sacrifice. The Talmud states explicitly that women laying
their hands on the animal has no legal or ritual significance, but it was done for the sole reason of
making the women happy (Hagigah 16b). Here we are presented with a case of halakhic
neutrality―there was no requirement to allow women to participate in this act, and there were no
adverse halakhic consequences to allowing their participation either. Thus, we find no issue with
a personal accommodation in such a case.

In addition to permitting an accommodation, we also find positive decrees enacted in order to

prevent or alleviate a person’s mental anguish. We do not inform a sick person of a loss in the
family lest his mind be disturbed, which presumably would interfere with his own health (Mo’ed
Katan 26b). A condemned person on his way to execution is given a special potion for the purpose
of relieving his anxiety (Sanhedrin 43a). Jewish law is thus even concerned with the mental state
of someone who has committed a sin so grave that it necessitates capital punishment.

Sometimes the concern for people’s emotional states can even override established Halakhah.
Under normal circumstances, there is typically no acquisition of property on Shabbat; however,

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there are exceptions (e.g. Gittin 8b). One such example can be found in the case where someone
is dying and cannot properly distribute his possessions. The Sages decided that his will should be
carried out, even on the Sabbath, so that his mind will not be further disturbed and worsen his
already weak condition (Bava Batra 156b).

We also find accommodations for physical discomfort, as in the case of someone who is
an istinis (in a delicate state). This is why Rabban Gamliel bathed on the first night after his wife
passed away, even though he was in mourning (m. Berakhot 2:6). R. Sheshet fasted on the day
before Passover, which the Talmud attributes to his delicate digestive system (Pesahim 108a). R.
Yehoshua b. Levi ruled that a delicate person could wear slippers on fast days due to their
condition, a dispensation that would not be applied to healthy people (y. Yoma 8:1 44d).

We also find exceptions where people may decline to fulfill an obligation because they feel it
violates their kavod― that is, it is beneath their dignity. Deuteronomy 22:4 commands that one
must return a lost object, but the Talmud qualifies that an elderly person for whom returning the
lost object would be undignified is exempt (Sanhedrin 18b). Rabbinic sages also balance their
honor with their obligations. For monetary cases, the honor of a sage exempts him from testifying
when the judge is inferior to him in wisdom. However, he is obligated to testify in a case involving
a religious transgression because, as it says, “No wisdom, no prudence, and no counsel can prevail
against God” (Proverbs 21:30), and “Where there is a desecration of God’s name, we do not
consider the honor of the rabbi” (Shevuot 30b).

I cannot provide a formula for when a person’s honor may override a religious obligation.
However, the fact remains that discrete examples exist such that we cannot dismiss such
accommodations as a halakhic impossibility either.

Commanded Emotions and Emotional Regulation

Thus far, we have seen several examples where the Torah demonstrates concern for people’s
emotional discomfort. These examples range from prohibitions against causing emotional distress
to accommodations and dispensations from following strict Halakhah. The latter category may
give the impression that the Torah views emotions as fixed characteristics to which Halakhah must
adjust. However, we also find examples where the Torah either commands one to feel certain
emotions or at least demands one to regulate particular emotions.

There are Biblical commandments to love God (Deuteronomy 6:5, 11:1), to love
converts (Leviticus 19:34, Deuteronomy 10:19), and of course, to “love thy neighbor as
thyself” (Leviticus 19:18). This final commandment immediately follows an emotional prohibition
against “hating your brother in your heart” (Leviticus 19:17).

Whether these commandments truly mandate how a person must or must not feel is the subject of
a classic debate summarized by R. Baruch Gigi:

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There are essentially two main approaches to the question of commanding emotions. The first
approach argues that it is possible to demand that a person alter and control his emotions; the
second approach argues that this is impossible, and any discussion regarding a command of this
nature must shift to the realm of behavior and actions.

According to the second approach, we do not control our emotions, but we can control our actions.
This interpretation would even apply to the prohibition against hating your fellow “in your heart.”

Independent of this philosophical and exegetical debate, the Talmud records several statements
indicating that emotional regulation is a critical requirement for the religion.

The Divine Presence is said to only rest upon those who are not melancholy[1] or too happy with
levity, but only those who experience the joy associated with fulfilling
commandments (Shabbat 30b). Further, the Sages teach that people should not pray unless they
are in this ideal emotional state (Berakhot 31a).

Emotional regulation applies to both pleasant and unpleasant emotions. When certain sages
became too joyous at weddings, another sage had to intervene in order to reset his colleagues’
emotions. R. Ashi broke a white glass at his son’s wedding in order to keep the merriment from
getting out of hand, and in a similar situation, R. Hamnuna Zuti reminded his excessively joyful
colleagues of their mortality (Shabbat 30b-31a). On the other end of the emotional spectrum, we
learn from Reish Lakish that anger causes wisdom to depart from the wise and prophecy to depart
from the prophet (Pesahim 66b). The gemara directs us to an example in the Torah where the
prophet Elisha, experiencing a state of anger, needed a musician to play for him in order to ready
himself for prophecy (2 Kings 3:14-15).

Managing Feelings as a Religious Imperative

Almost every worthwhile endeavor requires a degree of discipline to set aside one’s feelings and
impulses in order to achieve a desired goal. In a secular context, the self-discipline needed to
overcome short-term desires is virtuous. But for Judaism, self-discipline is a foundational religious
requirement. Living a life dedicated to observing the commandments requires the discipline to set
aside one’s immediate desires in order to perform certain actions or refrain from others.

We find several Biblical statements which contrast personal desires with fulfilling the will of God.
In the commandment to affix tzitzit (fringes) on cornered garments, the Torah explains that these
fringes serve as reminders to fulfill the commandments and not merely “follow your heart and
eyes” to fulfill lustful urges (Numbers 15:39). Through the prophet Jeremiah, God complains,
“They have not listened to my voice, and they have not followed it. [Rather,] they followed the
stubbornness of their hearts and followed the Ba’alim, as their fathers taught them” (Jeremiah
9:12-13).

The second verse juxtaposes the stubbornness of prioritizing one’s desires over God’s will with
committing idolatry. We find a Rabbinic analogy between idolatry and acting out of the emotion

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of anger. According to R. Yohanan b. Nuri, someone who rends garments, breaks vessels, or
scatters money out of anger should be regarded as an idolater (Shabbat 105b). He warns: “Such is
the way of the evil inclination. Today he says, ‘do this,’ and tomorrow he says, ‘do that,’ until he
says, ‘worship idolatry,’ and he does so.”

R. Avin finds a scriptural basis for this idea in Psalms 81:10: “There shall be no strange God in
you.” From this, R. Avin derives, “Who is the strange God that resides within a person? Say this
is the evil inclination” (Shabbat 105b).

Here we see the evil inclination described as its own “strange God” standing in opposition to the
genuine God. Whereas God is worshipped by humans following His commands, this “strange
God” is satisfied by humans prioritizing their own emotions over their obligations. Conversely,
prioritizing one’s personal desires over God’s desires is considered a form of idolatry because it
shifts the focus of the religion from God to the individual.

Two complementary Rabbinic statements illustrate this point. Commenting on Psalms 1:2, R.
Yehudah ha-Nasi teaches, “A person can only study that which his heart desires” (Avodah
Zarah 19a). In context, this exposition refers to pursuing one’s intellectual interests. R. Yehudah
ha-Nasi recognizes that emotional connection to material is critical for engagement and retention.
He acknowledges that people will have different affinities and aptitudes toward different subjects,
and he affirms (even encourages) these emotional preferences.

On the other hand, having a personal emotional preference toward one area of Torah study does
not imply a right to evaluate the content based on one’s feelings. Responding to a teaching that R.
Yehudah cited in the name of Shmuel, R. Nahman proclaimed, “How great is this Halakhah!” and
regarding another he criticized, “this Halahkah is not great.” Rava rebuked R. Nahman by citing
an exposition of R. Aha b. Hanina on Proverbs 29:3, which says, “He who keeps company with
harlots will lose his wealth.” R. Aha b. Hanina interprets this verse to mean, “Anyone who says,
‘This teaching is pleasant, but this is not pleasant,’ loses the value of Torah.” Upon hearing this,
R. Nahman subsequently retracts his previous statement (Eruvin 64a).

The Talmud is full of disagreements where one sage rejects the teachings of another. These
disagreements occasionally lead to debates becoming heated. By contrast, Rava objects to R.
Nahman bypassing the normal rules of Rabbinic rhetoric in favor of subjecting teachings to his
own emotional judgment. R. Aha b. Hanina’s comparison to prostitution is apt because in both
cases, the pursuit is predicated on personal gratification.

This does not imply that overcoming one’s impulses is an easy or trivial task. Ben Zoma teaches,
“Who is strong? The one who can conquer his inclination” (m. Avot 4:1). Rabban Gamliel teaches
two approaches to this challenge. His first approach is: “Make [God’s] will your will.” I understand
this to mean that one should work to change their own will to align with God’s so that their innate
desires will not stand in opposition. Rabban Gamliel continues with his second approach: “Nullify
your will to [God’s] will.” I interpret this as if the first approach has not manifested―if your
desires conflict with God, you must still put God’s will first (m. Avot 2:4).

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Conclusion

Returning to our initial question, “Does Torah care about your feelings?” the answer is an
unequivocal “yes.” Where things get complicated, however, is that the Torah “cares” in different
ways. We have seen examples of the Torah caring about people’s emotional well-being through
protective laws and halakhic accommodations. We have also seen examples where the Torah cares
that people feel or do not feel in certain ways (or at the very least, that people manage their
emotions enough to not act on them).

These conflicting sources challenge halakhic frameworks based on emotions. One cannot take the
position that the Torah does not accommodate people’s feelings, nor can one contend that the
Torah must always conform to satisfy emotional needs.

If I were forced to issue a categorical statement regarding the Torah’s attitude toward people’s
feelings, I would say this: while the Torah sometimes accommodates people’s emotions, people
should not expect, let alone demand, the Torah to conform to their wishes. We have seen examples
demonstrating where Halakhah adapts to emotions, and we have also seen examples where
Halakhah expects people to prioritize obedience over their personal feelings. My formulation
reflects both the reality of halakhic complexity as well as the ideal religious attitude expected of
practitioners.

In my rabbinic experience, people make their own decisions about how they will or will not
observe Judaism. Sometimes people sincerely inquire about dispensations and will accept an
honest answer, even if they personally do not like it. Others seek dispensations to validate their
feelings or practices in order to continue doing as they wish without feeling the discomfort of
cognitive dissonance.

The practical difference between these approaches is what people do when the answer is “no.” The
theoretical difference is whether people view religion primarily as something people are supposed
to serve or something which is supposed to serve the people. The Rabbinic Sages recognized this
dichotomy as well when they taught, “The wicked stand in the domain of their hearts … but the
righteous have their hearts in their domain” (Genesis Rabbah 34:10).

Judaism is neither an anthropocentric religion which places the feelings of people as its primary
goal, nor is it entirely callous to people’s emotions. Exploring the nuances of emotional
accommodation and whether or not it is possible is a worthy endeavor. But, in my opinion, framing
the Torah through the categorical context of emotions―either for or against emotional
accommodations―only distorts this complicated and important question.

[1]
C.f. Ps. 34:19.

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 “Western (Wailing) Wall, Jerusalem, circa 1910.” (G. E. Franklin)

Based on a shiur by Harav Aharon Lichtenstein15

The issue of visiting the Temple Mount is a somewhat loaded topic. In this shiur, I shall
deal exclusively with the halakhic aspects of this issue, and not with its other dimensions, the
importance of which should not be treated lightly.

The issue of visiting the Temple Mount in our time can be divided into two separate
questions:

15
Translated by David Strauss

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1) Is there any prohibition whatsoever to enter the Temple Mount?
2) Assuming that such a prohibition exists, with what restrictions, if at all, is visiting
the Temple Mount nevertheless possible?

Generally speaking, there are a number of questions and issues regarding the Temple
Mount and the site of the Temple. The Temple area divides into several zones: the Kodesh ha-
Kodashim (the Holy of Holies), the Heikhal (the Sanctuary), and Har ha-Bayit (the Temple
Mount). This division is by Torah law. The Heikhal and Har ha-Bayit further divide into sub-
zones; this division is on the rabbinic level. Obviously, the severity of entering any particular area
varies according to the area’s sanctity, regardless of the question of ritual purity and impurity.

I. THE VARIOUS ZONES OF THE TEMPLEAREA

A. THE KODESH HA-KODASHIM

Entry into the Kodesh ha-Kodashim is permitted solely to the High Priest and only on Yom
Kippur.

B. THE HEIKHAL

As for the Heikhal, “needless entry,” as it is termed by Chazal, is forbidden. There is,
however, a question about the Rambam’s position on this issue. The Rambam states (Hilkhot Bi’at
ha-Mikdash 2:1-2):

These laws are based on the Gemara (Menachot 27b). The Rambam seems to imply that the
prohibition to enter the Temple outside the time of service applies exclusively to the priests, and
not to ordinary Jews. The reason for this might be that the priests are connected to the sacrificial
order in the Temple, and therefore they are forbidden to enter the Heikhal when they are not

34
involved in such service. In any event, the Vilna Gaon does not mention this point; he leaves the
impression that needless entry into the Heikhal is forbidden to all.

C. THE AZARA (THE TEMPLE COURTYARD)

In various places in the Torah, the term “Kodesh” refers to both the Kodesh ha-
Kodashim and the Heikhal. The next level of sanctity is that of the Azara. While it too is endowed
with a certain sanctity, the term “Kodesh” does not apply to it.

The Rambam describes the area of the Azara as follows (Hilkhot Beit ha-Bechira 1:5):

Regarding the Azara, there is no prohibition of needless entry. There are, however, certain
types of conduct that are forbidden there. The guiding principle is that when a person enters
the Azara, he should not feel overly relaxed, as if he were sitting in his living room. This finds
expression primarily with regard to sleeping and sitting in the Azara. There is a
famous halakha that is mentioned in several places:

Sitting in the Azara is permitted only to the kings of the House of David.

It should be noted that it is unclear whether these prohibitions are by Torah law or only by rabbinic
decree. This issue is subject to a dispute in the Gemara (Zevachim 16).

D. HAR HA-BAYIT (THE TEMPLE MOUNT)

The wall of the Azara constitutes the border separating between the priestly and levitical
camps. The next level of sanctity (in descending order), below that of the Azara, is the sanctity of
the Temple Mount. [In the time of the Mishkan in the desert, the camp was divided into three areas:
the camp of the Shekhina, the camp of the Levites, and the camp of Israel. Similarly, there are

35
three areas within Jerusalem: The Heikhal (Sanctuary) and Azara (Temple Courtyard) parallel the
camp of the Shekhina, the rest of the Temple Mount parallels the camp of the Levites, and the rest
of Jerusalem parallels the camp of Israel. Each area is governed different rules of access.]

On the Temple Mount, free entry is somewhat restricted, so as not to detract from the
atmosphere appropriate for the place. These prohibitions fall into a category that appears several
times in the Torah: the mitzva of showing reverence to the Temple.

The source of these prohibitions is a Mishna (Berakhot 9:5):

The Gemara on this Mishna specifies additional prohibitions but adds nothing to the basic
principle. The Gemara explains that the command is to refrain from conducting oneself in the
sanctuary as if one were in one’s own home.

The Rambam adds something that does not appear in the Mishna and the Gemara (Hilkhot
Beit ha-Bechira 7:1-2):

The Rambam adds the last line, according to which even a ritually clean person is forbidden to
enter the Temple Mount, if not for the sake of a mitzva. There does not seem to be a source in the
Gemara for what the Rambam says here. The Kesef Mishneh directs us to the laws governing a
synagogue:

Regarding the sanctity of a synagogue, the Mishna states (Megilla 28a):

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Regarding this Mishna, the Gemara says:

It follows from this passage that one is forbidden to enter a synagogue for extraneous
purposes. The Kesef Mishneh invokes a kal va-chomer, arguing that a similar prohibition applies
to the Temple Mount. But this argument is by no means simple. If we understand, as did the
Ramban, that the sanctity of a synagogue derives from the fact that it is used for the performance
of a mitzva (tashmish mitzva), similar to the strings of tzitzit – then the prohibition is on an entirely
different level, for the sanctity of the Temple Mount is not based on tashmish mitzva. Thus, when
the Torah writes, “And you shall revere My sanctuary,” which, according to the Rambam includes
the Temple Mount – it imposes prohibitions upon the Temple Mount which are entirely different
than those imposed upon synagogues.

If, however, we understand that the sanctity of a synagogue is similar to consecration, i.e.,
the consecration of an object for its value, kedushat damim, it is then possible to compare the
prohibitions applying to the synagogue to those applying to the Temple Mount. Even then,
however, the comparison is not so simple, for it is not clear that the Temple Mount falls into the
category of consecrated property by virtue of monetary ownership.

It may be suggested that the Rambam understood by way of logical reasoning that the
command to revere the sanctuary, which applies also to the Temple Mount, includes the
prohibition of needless entry. Thus, one is only permitted to enter the Temple Mount for the sake
of a mitzva. It should be noted that since the Rambam understood that the mitzva of revering the
sanctuary applies also to the Temple Mount, it follows that the prohibition to enter the Temple
Mount for no reason is by Torah law.

It may further be suggested that, according to the Rambam, the prohibition of needless
entry to the Temple Mount is based on the mitzva of safeguarding the sanctuary. This mitzva is
explicitly stated in Parashat Korach (Bamidbar 18:1-7):

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The Rambam, based on the mishnayot dealing with this mitzva, rules in Hilkhot Beit ha-
Bechira 8:8 that the mitzva applies also to the Temple Mount:

It is possible to argue that there is no proof from here that the mitzva of safeguarding the
sanctuary applies also to the Temple Mount. It may indeed apply only to the Azara, but practically
speaking the safeguarding of the Azara must be executed at the gates of the Temple Mount. On
the other hand, it is entirely possible to understand that the mitzva of safeguarding the sanctuary
applies even to the Temple Mount. If that is the case, the Rambam may have reasoned that if there
is a mitzva to safeguard the Temple Mount, then certainly it must be forbidden to enter the Mount
for no reason, and the guards are required to warn those entering the area about this prohibition.

II. THE MITZVA OF REVERING THE SANCTUARY

Practically speaking, the mitzva of revering the sanctuary has ramifications regarding the
manner in which one is permitted to enter the Temple Mount.

First of all, as we saw above, one is forbidden to enter not for the sake of a mitzva.
Obviously, we must clarify the precise definition of “for the sake of a mitzva.” This question arises
in various contexts, and in each context, the answer is different. What is the law regarding a person
who wishes to enter the Temple Mount in order to experience that unique feeling of intimacy with
God? Is such entry considered “for the sake of a mitzva”? It is entirely possible that even such
entry is considered “for the sake of a mitzva.” Hence, a person who thinks that visiting the Temple
Mount will enhance his fear of Heaven should be permitted to do so. According to this
understanding, the prohibition of entering the Temple Mount for no reason applies only to entry
for the sake of taking a walk, or the like.

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 An additional prohibition governing entry into the Temple Mount is the prohibition of
entering with one’s shoes, one’s staff, or the like. It may be assumed that the specific restrictions
mentioned by the Rambam do not exhaust the mitzva of revering the sanctuary; it would, for
example, be forbidden to enter the Temple Mount riding a bicycle, even though such a prohibition
is not explicitly stated in the Mishna. It seems, however, that the primary practical prohibition is
that which forbids one to enter the Temple Mount wearing shoes.

The Ramban writes in his commentary to the Torah that wherever there is a revelation of
the Shekhina, one may not go about in shoes, and it is for this reason that the priests would perform
the Temple service while barefoot. If the prohibition against entering the Temple Mount with
shoes is connected to these words of the Ramban – then it would only be permissible to enter
the Temple Mount when one is absolutely barefoot. This, however, is difficult, for the
Gemara (Zevachim 24) implies that the priests would serve barefoot only in order to overcome the
problem of an interposing substance between their feet and the floor of the Azara, and not because
of a prohibition of entering the sanctuary with shoes.

Alternatively, we may understand that the prohibition to enter the Temple Mount with
shoes stems from the fact that such walking is normal walking, and as such it is inappropriate for
the Temple Mount. According to this, it may be permissible to enter the Temple Mount with some
type of foot covering that is not a normal shoe. This question was raised by the Minchat
Chinukh (commandment 254); he too, however, fails to reach a clear conclusion.

III. RITUAL PURITY AND IMPURITY

An additional obstacle to entering the Temple Mount is the problem of ritual impurity. The
Gemara (Pesachim 67b) implies that the division into three camps has halakhic ramifications
regarding banishing those who are unclean:

A leper, then, is sent out of Jerusalem. What is the law governing one who has become ritually
impure through contact with a corpse and other ritually impure people? The Gemara implies that
one who has contracted ritual impurity through contact with a corpse (or even the corpse itself)
may enter the levitical camp but may not enter the camp of the Shekhina. It should be noted that

39
this division is by Torah law, whereas by rabbinic ordinance there is an additional boundary, which
we shall deal with below.

Today, we are all considered ritually impure because of coming into contact with a corpse,
but this does not prevent us from visiting the Temple Mount. Thus, the Rambam rules in Hilkhot
Bi’at ha-Mikdash (3:4):

The problem of ritual impurity only arises in relation to people who are forbidden to enter the
levitical camp – those who are ritually unclean because of ritual impurity that originates in their
own bodies: a man suffering from gonorrhea (zav), a woman ritually impure because of menstrual
(nidda) or other bleeding (zava), and a woman who has recently given birth. In our context,
a nidda or a new mother is clearly forbidden by Torah law to visit the Temple Mount before she
goes to mikve.

As for men, ziva is a rare phenomenon, and it has no practical ramifications. A question
arises regarding a ba’al keri (a man who has emitted semen). The aforementioned
Gemara (Pesachim 67b) states:

The Gemara states that a ba’al keri is sent out of the levitical camp. The Rambam, however, rules
as follows (Hilkhot Bi’at ha-Mikdash 3:1, 3):

The ba’al keri does not appear on the list of those who are sent out of the levitical camp. It would
appear that a ba’al keri is indeed permitted to enter the Temple Mount, for the Rambam defines
“those who are sent out of the two camps” - i.e., the camp of the Shekhina and the levitical camp
- as those who render objects ritually impure by sitting or lying upon them, and a ba’al keri does
not do this.

From the Gemara, on the other hand, it would seem that a ba’al keri is indeed sent out of
the two camps. The Mishneh Lemelekh deals with the difficulty posed by the contradiction

40
between the Rambam and the Gemara. The Gemara’s guiding principle in identifying those who
are sent out of the two camps is similar to that set down by the Rambam – those who render objects
ritually impure by sitting or lying upon them. But the Gemara reformulates this category as “those
whose ritual impurity originates in their own bodies,” who are generally subject to the stringency
that they render objects ritually impure by sitting or lying upon them. Once this group has been
characterized as a separate group governed by greater stringency, the entire group is banned from
the two camps, even if a particular member of the group does not render objects ritually impure by
sitting or lying upon them. Specifically, a ba’al keri falls into the category of “those whose ritual
impurity originates in their own bodies,” and therefore, even though he does not render objects
ritually impure by sitting or lying upon them, he is nevertheless forbidden to enter the two camps.

IV. THE RITUAL IMPURITY OF A BA’AL KERI

The Tosafot (s.v. ve-itkash) relate to a question that arises in tractate Nidda (22a): When a
woman experiences menstrual bleeding, the menstrual blood is indeed an av ha-temum’a – an
original source of ritual impurity. But the woman’s impurity does not stem from the fact that her
body came into contact with this blood, for were this the case, the woman should only be regarded
as a rishon le-tum’a – “the first degree of ritual impurity, and not an av ha-tum’a.” We must,
therefore, distinguish between two phenomena: the experience of menstrual bleeding turns the
woman herself into an av ha-tum’a, and independent of that, the menstrual blood is also an av ha-
tum’a, so that a person who comes into contact with such blood becomes a rishon le-tum’a. We
find a similar discussion with respect to a ba’al keri: Does a man’s emission of semen define him
as ritually impure, or does his ritual impurity stem from his coming into physical contact with his
semen? The Gemara argues that this question has two practical ramifications.

1. What is the law governing a man who emitted semen that did not come into external
contact with his body? Internal contact is regarded as “impurity in the concealed parts
of the body” (tum’at beit ha-setarim), which does not impart ritual impurity. If the
impurity of a ba’al keri is based on his experience of emission, such a person should
be ritually impure. But if the ba’al keri’s impurity is based on contact with the semen,
such a person should not be ritually impure.

2. Is a minimum amount of semen necessary? If the ba’al keri’s impurity stems from his
experiencing an emission, any amount of semen should suffice. But if his impurity is based
on his coming into contact with the semen, a minimum amount of semen must be present.

The Gemara draws a connection between these two ramifications. The Tosafot conclude
that the ritual impurity of a ba’al keri falls into the category of ritual impurity imparted by contact,
and it stems from the ba’al keri’s coming into contact with the semen. This assertion is relevant to
two questions that are connected to our discussion.

41
 1) What is the status of a ba’al keri? If the impurity derives from contact, he is a rishon le-
tum’a; but if the impurity stems from the experience of emission, he is an av ha-tum’a.

2) If the impurity derives from contact, a ba’al keri needs only to be sent out from the camp
of the Shekhina (i.e., the Temple and Courtyard); but if it stems from the experience of
emission, he must be sent out from the levitical camp (i.e., the Temple Mount) as well.

The Tosafot conclude that the matter is subject to a dispute between two talmudic passages
(Nidda 22a and 42a). However, the Tosafot do not make explicit mention of the first ramification
mentioned above, that this disagreement is relevant to the question whether a ba’al keri is regarded
as an av ha-tum’a or a rishon le-tum’a.

The Rambam, in his commentary to the Mishna, understands that a ba’al keri is a rishon
le-tum’a. It would seem that if he is only a rishon le-tum’a, he should be barred only from the
camp of the Shekhina but permitted to enter the other camps. In the Rambam’s rulings, however,
this point is a bit problematic. In Hilkhot She’ar Avot ha-Tum’a (5:1), he writes:

The Rambam rules that one who experiences an emission of semen and one who comes into contact
with it are both considered a rishon le-tum’a, but he mentions them separately. And indeed, despite
the fact that both are a rishon le-tum’a, there is a difference between them regarding the minimum
amount of semen that is required in each of the cases:

We see then that a ba’al keri is a rishon le-tum’a, but he becomes ritually impure with any amount
of semen. If we understand that according to the Rambam a ba’al keri is ritually impure because
of his having come into contact with his semen, then it is possible that he omitted the law of sending
a ba’al keri out of the Temple Mount, because he is merely a rishon le-tum’a, and need not be sent
out of the two camps.

Let us summarize, then, that the Rambam’s rulings present two difficulties:

1) If a ba’al keri is ritually impure because he came into contact with semen, why doesn’t
the Rambam require a minimum amount of semen to impart the impurity?

2) How can the Rambam be reconciled with the Gemara that states explicitly that a ba’al
keri is sent out of two camps?

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 Practically speaking, we find one commentator – the Mei Nafto’ach (p. 87) – who explains
that according to the Rambam, a ba’al keri is only a rishon le-tum’a, and therefore permitted to
enter the Temple Mount. This, however, is a solitary opinion, primarily because of the passage
in Pesachim that implies just the opposite. Most authorities maintain that a ba’al keri’s entry into
the Temple Mount is, at the very least, a possible violation of a biblical prohibition, and therefore
stringency must be practiced.

Practically speaking, then, a ba’al keri is forbidden to enter the Temple Mount. Obviously,
it is possible to cleanse oneself of the ritual impurity of a ba’al keri through immersion in a mikve.
Indeed, people who were compelled to enter the Temple Mount – soldiers, and the like – and
sought rabbinical direction as to how they should act, were told to undergo immersion prior to
their visit.16

V. TEVUL YOM (ONE WHO HAS IMMERSED HIMSELF DURING DAY)

How much time must the ba’al keri wait to follow his immersion before he is permitted to
enter the Temple Mount? Basically, the impurity of a ba’al keri lasts until nightfall: he undergoes
immersion during the day and achieves purity at nightfall. Is he permitted to enter
the Temple Mount following his immersion, but before nightfall? A person who immerses
himself, but has not yet achieved purity, is called a tevul yom. The question about his entering
the Temple Mount arises on two levels.

1) On the Torah level – do we say that those who are ritually impure with impurity that
originated in their own bodies and who immersed themselves, are no longer categorized as being
“ritually impure with impurity that originated in their own bodies”? In other words, if a ritually
impure person underwent immersion, but is still impure, is he now in a separate category governed
by its own laws? Or perhaps he is simply not pure yet, and he is governed by the very same laws
as one who has not immersed himself at all? If immersion moves a person into a new category,
then following immersion he should be regarded as having ordinary impurity that does not
originate in his own body, and therefore he should be permitted to enter the levitical camp. Even
if we understand that the status of a tevul yom is identical to that of one who has not undergone
immersion, it is still possible that the prohibition to enter the Temple Mount only applies when the
ritual impurity is in full strength, and not when it is about to disappear on its own. It is also possible
that a distinction should be made between a ba’al keri and a zav.

2) On the rabbinic level – the Gemara (Zevachim 32b) states that a tevul yom is forbidden by
rabbinic decree to enter the levitical camp. The Rambam rules (Hilkhot Bi’at ha-Mikdash 3:6):

A person who immersed himself the same day was banished from the Ezrat Nashim (the Court of
Women, which is part of the Temple Mount and not the Azara). A person lacking only atonement,

16
[Ed. note: Another consequence of this is that not only may a nidda or yoledet not enter the Temple Mount, but a woman within
72 hours of intercourse also may not enter the Temple Mount due to the issue of poletet shikhvat zera.]

43
however, was not banished, since the sun had already set for him. A person who immersed himself
that same day was forbidden to enter the levitical camp by a ruling of the scribes.

It should be noted that the prohibition of entry in the case of a tevul yom does not apply to the
entire levitical camp, but only to the Ezrat Nashim.

VI. THE CHAIL

In addition to the prohibition of entry discussed above, there is another rabbinic prohibition
of entry – into the area of the Chail (the wall surrounding the Azara). The Mishna in
tractate Kelim (1:8) defines the various areas of the Temple Mount and sanctuary:

The Temple Mount is holier, for neither zavim nor zavot nor menstruants nor women after
childbirth may enter it. The Chail is holier, for neither idolaters nor one who contracted corpse
uncleanness may enter it. The Ezrat Nashim is holier, for no tevul yom may enter it, though no sin
offering is thereby incurred. The Ezrat Yisrael is holier, for a man who has not yet offered his
obligatory sacrifices may not enter it, and if he enters, he incurs thereby a sin-offering.

Today we are all regarded as having contracted the ritual impurity imparted by a corpse. Therefore,
we are rabbinically forbidden to enter the area of the Chail. Obviously, defining the various areas
depends upon archeological understanding of the Temple Mount. I shall not examine the divergent
opinions here.

Generally speaking, then, the concern about visiting the Temple Mount is on two levels:

1) Entry into the Azara is a possible violation of a Torah prohibition. Stringency is,
therefore, required.
2) A place which is certainly not the Azara but may possibly fall within the bounds of
the Chail, involves a possible violation of a rabbinic prohibition.

VII. COMMUNAL RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE TEMPLE MOUNT

As we saw earlier in the words of the Rambam, non-Jews are barred from entering
particular areas of the Temple Mount. This restriction raises an interesting question: Why are non-
Jews forbidden entry? Will they obey the demands of Halakha? It seems that this halakha raises
an important point regarding the entry of those who are ritually impure to the Temple Mount.

The Gemara (Makkot 14b) discusses a negative precept that is preceded by a positive
commandment (i.e., a negative precept whose violation requires that the transgressor must already
have violated a positive precept):

44
In the end, however, the Gemara asserts after a detailed discussion that a negative precept that was
preceded by a positive one is considered like a negative precept whose violation can be rectified
by the fulfillment of a positive commandment. Lashes are, therefore, not administered for the
violation of the negative commandment.

A number of Rishonim object to this assertion: An explicit Mishna states that lashes are
administered for entering the Temple while ritually impure. Now if there is no flogging for the
violation of a negative commandment that was preceded by a positive one – then how can flogging
be imposed in this case? Surely the prohibition was preceded by the positive precept of banning
from the camp those who are ritually impure.

It may be suggested that the negative precept barring entry into the Temple while in a state
of ritual impurity is not defined as a negative precept that is preceded by a positive commandment
because there is no symmetry between the positive and negative commandments. The negative
commandment applies to the individual, to each and every person who is ritually impure. The
positive precept, on the other hand, as formulated by the biblical verse as well as by the Rambam
(Hilkhot Bi’at ha-Mikdash 3:1), is the responsibility of the community:

It was a positive commandment to banish all unclean persons from the Sanctuary. For it is said:
“Command the children of Israel that they put out of the camp every leper, and every one that has
an issue, and whoever is unclean by the dead” (Bamidbar 5:2).

(The term that the Torah uses with regard to the prohibition of entering the Temple in a state of
ritual impurity – lo tetam’u – is a plural form, but clearly the prohibition applies to each and every
individual, just like “You shall not eat – lo tokhlu - on the blood,” or the like.) The Rambam
implies that the obligation devolves upon the community. The community is responsible for the
sanctity of the Temple, and this responsibility expresses itself, among other ways, in sending the
ritually impure out of the camp.

According to this, we may understand the prohibition of non-Jewish entry into the Temple
Mount. The non-Jew is not commanded to enter the Temple Mount, but the Jewish community is
collectively responsible to make sure that a non-Jew does not go beyond the Chail, so as not to
violate the sanctity of the Temple.

VIII. THE SANCTITY OF THE TEMPLE MOUNT IN OUR TIME

The entire preceding discussion is only relevant if we assume that the sanctity of
the Temple is still in effect in our day, even though the Temple is no longer standing. As is well
known, this question is subject to dispute among the Rishonim.

The Rambam (Hilkhot Beit ha-Bechira 7:7) rules:

45
The Rambam relates here to the commandment of revering the sanctuary, but it would seem that
his words are equally applicable to the prohibition of entry in a state of ritual impurity.

In the Gemara, we find many discussions as to whether the first and second sanctifications
of the Land of Israel (at the times of Yehoshua and Ezra, respectively) were for their time alone,
or for the future as well. It follows from the Rishonim that a distinction may be made between the
sanctity of the Land of Israel and the sanctity of partitioned areas (Jerusalem, the Temple Mount,
and the like). Indeed, the Rambam also makes such a distinction (ibid. 6:14):

The first sanctification of the Temple Mount did not expire when the First Temple was destroyed,
and it sanctified it to this very day. In this regard, there is a distinction between the sanctity of
the Temple Mount and the sanctity of the Land of Israel:

Why is it my contention that as far as the Sanctuary and Jerusalem were concerned, the first
sanctification hallowed them for all time to come, whereas the sanctification of the rest of
the Land of Israel, which involved the laws of the Sabbatical year and tithes and like matters, did
not hallow the land for all time to come? Because the sanctity of the Sanctuary and
of Jerusalem derives from the Divine Presence, which could not be banished. As it says, “And I
will bring your sanctuaries unto desolation” (Vayikra 26:31), wherefrom the Sages have averred:
Even though they are desolate, the sanctuaries retain their pristine holiness.

By contrast, the obligations arising out of the Land as far as the Sabbatical year and the tithes are
concerned had derived from the conquest of the Land by the people [of Israel], and as soon as the
land was wrested from them, the conquest was nullified. Consequently, [after the Babylonian
exile,] the Land was exempted by the Law from tithes and from [the restrictions of] the Sabbatical
year, for it was no longer deemed the Land of Israel.

When Ezra, however, came up and hallowed [the Land], he hallowed it not by conquest but merely
by the act of settling it. Therefore, every place that was possessed by those who had returned
from Babylonia and hallowed by the sanctification of Ezra is holy today, even though the land was
later wrested from them; and the laws of the Sabbatical year and the tithes appertain thereto in the
manner we have described in Hilkhot Teruma.

46
 Clearly, then, if we follow the rulings of the Rambam, all the restrictions on entering the
Temple Mount should be fully in force even in our day. The Ra’avad disagrees with this position:

This is his own argument; I do not know from where he got it. [We find] in several places in the
Mishna: “If there is no Sanctuary, let it rot.” And in the Gemara, they say: “That the barriers fell
down.” This implies that according to the one who says that the first sanctification did not allow
them for all time to come, there is no distinction between the Sanctuary, Jerusalem and the rest of
the Land of Israel. Moreover, I say that according to Rabbi Yose, who maintains that the second
sanctification hallowed them for all time to come, he said this regarding the rest of
the Land of Israel, but not about Jerusalem and the Sanctuary. For Ezra knew that in the future the
Sanctuary and Jerusalem will change and become hallowed with a different sanctification with the
glory of God forever. This has been revealed to me as God’s secret to those who fear Him.

In effect, the Ra’avad disagrees with the Rambam on two points:

1) The first sanctity did not remain valid for the future.
2) The distinction between the sanctity of the Temple Mount and the sanctity of
the Land of Israel is in just the opposite direction: In our day, even according to those who
maintain that the Land of Israel is sanctified, the second sanctification of Jerusalem and
the Temple is no longer valid.

The Tosafot put forward a third opinion, according to which there is no distinction between
the sanctity of the Land of Israel and the sanctity of Jerusalem and the Temple.

The Ra’avad concludes his words as follows:

A discussion of the Ra’avad’s position must take a number of considerations into account.

First, why does the Ra’avad say that there is no excision for entry into the Temple Mount,
when he maintains that such entry is perfectly permissible? The Acharonim have dealt with his
position; Rabbi Kook and others have argued that even the Ra’avad agrees that entering
the Temple Mount is forbidden today by Torah law, though not on the level of excision.
Other Acharonim maintain that according to the Ra’avad entering the Temple Mount is only
forbidden by rabbinic decree.

The Meiri (Shavuot 16) says that the prevalent custom is to enter the site of the Temple.
This, however, is a solitary opinion. It is clear that according to all the other Rishonim, entry into
the Temple Mount is forbidden, whether by Torah law or only by rabbinic decree.

Furthermore, it is possible that the Ra’avad relates solely to the problem of ritual impurity,
which according to him does not exist today. But even according to him, the mitzva to revere the
sanctuary applies even today.

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 Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik z” l explained that there are two aspects to the Temple:
The Temple as the site of the sacrificial service, and the Temple as God’s chosen abode.
Jerusalem was established as God’s chosen place for all times; hence, even today, when its
sanctity is nullified, and one is forbidden to offer sacrifices there, it is still forbidden to offer
sacrifices elsewhere, because Jerusalem remains God’s chosen abode.

According to this explanation, it is possible that even if the sanctity necessary for the
offering of sacrifices is no longer valid, there is still a mitzva to revere the Temple, even according
to the Ra’avad.

How Not to Make Halakhic Rulings17

Daniel Sperber writes:18

Introduction
In a series of articles and publications I discussed the question of how halakhic decisors (poskim)
should act in our day and age, arguing that they should seek to bring people closer to a love of
Judaism and halakha, to be inclusive rather than exclusive, and to practice what I called "friendly
decision making" (pesikah yedidutit).
I am wont to quote a passage from R. Aryeh Leib Friedman's Tzidkat ha-Tzadik (undated, but after
1953), p.115:

17
Dr. Sperber is President of the Makhon haGavoah leTorah at Bar Ilan University. Author of numerous works in Jewish law,
custom and theology, he was awarded the Israel Prize by the State of Israel for his monumental contributions to Jewish scholarship.
This article, with abridged notes, is included in Issue 5 of Conversations, the journal of the Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals,
due out late September 2009.
18
https://www.jewishideas.org/article/how-not-make-halakhic-rulings

48
Thus, one must always consider the implications of one's ruling, how much pain and anguish it
may cause, weigh the relevant aspects involved in the issue, and seek out a way to find a suitable
solution which will bring spiritual satisfaction to the questioners. Of course, we will not always be
able to satisfy our "clients" with a "happy reply." But at least we should always try our hardest to
do so.
In the following article, I shall give three examples of how not to rule. They come from different
fields of halakha, but they all reflect, in my opinion, the dangers and flaws involved in the tendency
toward stringency, and the fear of leniency.
I. A Pesak attributed to R. Moshe Feinstein
R. Michal Zalman Shurkin, in his book Harerei Kedem vol.1 (Jerusalem 1980), which is a
collection of hiddushei Torah which he heard from Rabbi J.D. Soloveitchik, has a sort of appendix
"in order not to leave the folio empty", which has "facts, practices and advice (which he heard)
from gedolei olam (pp.343-346), and in sect. II (pp.347) he relates the following tale:
I was present when the Gaon R. Moshe Feinstein z"l was asked the following question, and I am
translating it in its original form, with its response. [And this is not le-halakha, and for the practical
halakha the questioner should refer to his son R. David Shlita].

I found this whole tale somewhat unbelievable, especially when we recall other rulings of R.
Moshe. Thus, in Even ha-Ezer vol.4, sect.68, pp.137-138, we read as follows:

49
Although there seems to be a similarity between the two cases, though the former is much terser
and more abrupt and even brutal in style, these rulings seem to contradict what he wrote elsewhere.
For in Iggrot Moshe ibid. sect. 69 p.138, he wrote:

In R. Shurkin's case, the woman had given birth to several children, apparently close to one another
in time, and she was constantly complaining that she did not want again to become pregnant, at
least for a while. Undoubtedly, she had post-partum depression, if not a more serious type of
depression. In such cases R. Moshe ruled clearly that this was sufficient reason for a temporary
pause, an intermission, and hence to permit some form of birth-control.
Furthermore, R. Moshe himself, in that same volume, sect.74, p.142, subsect.3, wrote as follows:

And see also ibid. sect.71, and Even ha-Ezer vol.3 sect.24, where he permitted the use of pills for
a limited period for a woman whose weakness was greater than is normal, even though the husband
had not yet fully carried out the mitzvah of procreation, and if he had, he was permitted to carry
out birth-control even up to three years.
Is this really the case which R. Shurkin cited? Could R. Moshe not have questioned the young man
more thoroughly and more systematically? What really was his wife's state of mind and health?
What were the symptoms of her depression? Was the request for temporary respite or permanent?
Had the husband fully carried out the obligation of procreation? Could it be that he only asked
him: "Does she hit the baby?" And could his ruling really have been: "Learn musar with her." R.
Moshe was a great posek, with a great deal of experience, human understanding and sensitivity. In
one case he even permitted a baal teshuvah, who married a gentile woman, and who discovered

50
that he was a cohen, to continue to live with his wife after she had converted! (See ibid. sect. 39.
p.83.)
Indeed, there are numerous discussions concerning the halakhic status of depression, and when it
is considered health-threatening and even life-threatening. (See, Iggrot Moshe Even ha-Ezer vol.1,
sect. 65, p.165.) A clear exposition on this subject may be found in Avraham Sofer Avraham's
book, Mishnat Adam vol.3, Even ha-Ezer, Jerusalem 1988, p.65, where he writes, inter alia:
On the other hand, if she does not want to become pregnant out of fear of an attack of depression
etc., even despite psychiatric treatment (mentioned above) it would appear that she is permitted to
use one of the methods of birth-control (according to the ruling of a rabbi), and the husband cannot
force her to [carry out] that mitzvah. And R. Shlomo Zalman Auerbach shlita, and R. Yehoshua
Neuwirth agreed with me on this point.
Furthermore, in that same volume, p. 59 he discussed a woman's weakness as follows:

R. Mordechai Breisch, in his responsa Helkat Yaakov, Tel Aviv 1976, vol.3, sect. 62, rules that in
a case when the Rabbi sees that there might develop a situation of danger, or possible danger (safek
sakanah), this may be regarded as an hour of danger (shaat ha-dehak) in which one may have a
ruling of permissibility. Indeed, in a series of responsa R. Breisch permitted birth-control (vol.2,
sect. 11-13) for a woman who had children "and now wants under no circumstances to become
pregnant, and this issue is affecting her nerves in a most serious manner", (p.35). The doctors also
agree that she may fall into a state of mental derangement; nonetheless, his ruling was only for one
year.
I shall not go into all the intricacies of the halakhic discussions in the numerous sources that discuss
this issue. But surely this suffices to show how careful one must be in making such decisions.
There are so many elements to be considered: halakhic, psychological, medical etc. I therefore find
it difficult to believe that R. Shurkin's testimony is indeed accurate. For I do not believe that a
great decisor could rule on such flimsy evidence, examined so superficially, and giving a ruling so
abruptly. I believe this to be a lesson in what not to do.
2. The Sheitel Memorandum
Some few years ago a new issue erupted primarily in the hareidi community: Women were wearing
sheitels (wigs) made from human hair coming from India. Some, perhaps even much, of this hair
came from a place called Tirupati, in South India, where there is a Hindu temple. Pilgrims coming
to this temple, before entering it, shave their hair and place it outside the temple entrante. Millions
of Hindus come annually to Tirupati - perhaps as many as twenty thousand a day! -, and vast
amounts of hair pile up. The temple authorities, apparently realizing that this hair could constitute
an additional source of income, began, many years ago, to sell it to wig-making companies.

51
When this suddently became known to a number of Rabbis in England, Israel and the U.S.A. - it
had already been known to others and halakhically discussed many years earlier - they declared it
"tikrovet avodah zarah", idolatrous offering, something directly related to idolatrous practice, and
hence "assur be-hana'ah", such that it was absolutely forbidden to derive any benefit therefrom.
The resultant publicity of this ruling led to mass burnings of those very expensive sheitels by the
thousands.
Those devout women, who upon hearing that their sheitels were "idolatrous" immediately burned
them, are to be lauded and applauded for their great piety. However, I imagine they were plagued
with pangs of anguish, not only because they had to destroy what for them was a very costly and
personal part of their apparel, but even more in that for many years they had been covering their
heads with "idolatrous wigs", trespassing - albeit unwittingly - one of the most serious prohibitions
in Jewish law.
Numerous erudite responsa were written discussing all sorts of halakhic aspects of this subject, the
vast majority of them concluding that the sheitels were to be destroyed. Some more lenient ones
counseled that they be exchanged - not necessarily such a practical suggestion. Only the barest
minimum ruled that it was permitted to go on wearing them.
Virtually none of those learned sages had any real knowledge of India, Indian religión or
languages, and I suspect that the majority had never even been in India, and certainly not in
Tirupati. It is true that a small mission was sent for a few days to examine the temple, but none of
the members had the competence, the linguistic abilities etc., as they themselves admitted, to make
a real evaluation of the pilgrims' hair-shaving activities.
More surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, none of the experts in the field of Indian studies
were consulted, neither, for example, Prof. David Schulman of the Hebrew University, an
internationally acclaimed Indologist, nor Rabbi Alan Unterman of Manchester University, who
did his doctorate in India on Indian religion, nor Prof. P.V. Wiswanath, a devout Jew of South
Indian origin, now living in New Jersey, nor even the local Indian rabbis and authorities living in
Mumbai and Delhi.
One of the few rabbinic authorities to examine the issue systematically from all points of view,
was the renowned posek R. Menashe Klein (ha-Katan), whose numerous volumes of responsa are
very widely acclaimed and largely accepted also by the hareidi communities. Incidentally, he
surmises that around a million women wear such sheitels, whose cost is upward of a thousand
dollars each so that the total destruction of the wigs may amount to as much as a billion dollars (!)
- hefsed merubeh, enormous monetary loss, an important consideration to be considered by
halakhist. And even if his assessment be seen as somewhat exaggerated, the halakhic point he
made is certainly pertinent. His conclusion was that the sheitels were not prohibited, but he
counselled against wearing them for other reasons.
Now without even making an unequivocable statement as to whether the Tirupati hair constitutes
"tikrovet avodah zara" or not, my point is that the halakhic procedure whereby the rulings were
concluded, was highly flawed and therefore totally unsatisfactory. The decisior (posek) bears a
great burden of responsibility before making a ruling that may incur the loss of thousands of dollars
to thousands of individual women, and perhaps cause them deep anguish on learning that they had
been trespassing so serious a prohibition.

52
 First Jewish-Hindu Leadership Summit

On the fifth and sixth of February this year (2007, I participated in the first "Hindu-Jewish
Leadership Summit" at Delhi, India. This summit was attended by a delegation of the Chief
Rabbinate of Israel and some prominent European rabbis, and religious leaders of the Hindu
Dharma. I was asked to participate, perhaps because I had served briefly as a rabbi in India many
years ago and was therefore thought to have some understanding of Indian culture and religion.
Many leading Achariahs and Swamis from all over India were present, and a very lively and
probing dialogue took place. In our discussions we asked them whether Hinduism is a polytheistic
and idolatrous religion, and they all unanimously and most vigorously denied such an assertion,
explaining the apparent outward manifestations of idolatry in a completely different fashion.
At the end of the conference, a "Declaration of Mutual Understanding and Cooperation" was co-
signed by all participants. Perhaps the most significant clause in the whole document in this context
is the opening one:
The participants affirmed that:

I wonder whether the learned rabbis who prohibited the use of Tiraputi-based sheitels would have
ruled differently had they had this document before them. Perhaps not. Perhaps the way in which
Indian religious authorities understand their own religion is irrelevant to them. They know better,
even if it causes the loss of millions of dollars and many heartbreaks....

53
3. The Lookstein Affair
The Facts: Rabbi Haskel Lookstein was invited by President Obama to participate in an interfaith
thanksgiving event that was to take place in the Episcopal National Cathedral on the morning after
his historic inauguration as the 44th President of the United States of America. Representatives of
the various religions were invited, such as the different streams of Christianity, Islam, Buddhism
etc. For the first time in such an event, the three major streams in Judaism, Reform, Conservative
and Orthodox, were asked to participate, and Rabbi Lookstein was chosen to represent American
Orthodox Jewry. And indeed, he accepted, and participated in this memorable event.
The Reactions: The Rabbinical Council of America (RCA) took Rabbi Lookstein to task, issuing
a press release saying that he broke the rules by entering a Christian church, rebuking him and
claiming he had violated an unnamed rabbinic rule by entering a church and reciting a prayer there
in honor of the President's inauguration.
The Questions: The issue is indeed complex since it touches upon the very nature and parameters
of permissibility in our relations to our gentile-Christian neighbour’s. The basic questions are: Is
Christianity idolatrous? Are Christians idolators? Are all forms of Christianity identical? If
Christianity is idolatrous, may we, or, more correctly, how can we conduct trade relations with
Christians and/or Christian’s institutions.

For according to the Mishnah (Avodah Zarah 1:1,2) in the land of Israel it is forbidden to do
business with idolators three days before their holy days and three days after, and in the Diaspora
according to Shemuel on that day itself.19 If Sunday is a Christian holy day, then in Israel one can
never do business with a Christian! Similarly, it is forbidden to derive any benefit from idolatry or
to provide it with any benefit. Can one drink Benedictine liquor, which finances the Benedictine
monasteries? And what about Quaker Oats, is that also forbidden? And partnership with idolators
is also forbidden. But if a shareholder is halakhically considered a partner, how can one even buy
shares? Are we certain that the United Methodist pension fund has not invested in those shares, or
the Anglican Church? ...etc.

A further question that must be asked is: are there circumstances under which one may override
these possible prohibitions, such as shelom malkhut- in order to keep peace and good relations
with the authorities, or mi-shum eivah- in order not to engender hatred and tension with our gentile
neighbors?
Analysis: These questions-problems already troubled medieval halakhic authorities, for
restrictions such as indicated above would have created unsurpassable difficullties in the economic
life of the Jews living in a Christian environment. Maimonides regarded Christianity as idolatrous,
because of the belief in the Trinity, incarnation and the presence of images in their churches. For
him, living in a Moslem context, and Islam being regarded as monotheistic, he was less affected
practically by this halakhic position. However, European Jews in practice simply paid no regard
to the prohibitions prescribed by Tractate Avodah Zarah. They traded with Christians before and
after their holy days, sold objects used for ritual worship, and so forth.

19
(Bavli Avodah Zara 7b, 11b; and see, Encyclopedia Talmudit, vol.1, s.v. Eideihem)

54
The Solution: Three possible solutions were offered by the major medieval authorities: Rabbenu
Gershon Meor ha-Golah in the eleventh century, basing himself on a statement of Rabbi Yohanan,
namely that "Gentiles outside the Land of Israel are not idolatrous, but they are merely following
the customs of their ancestors" (B. Hullin 13b), permitted trade with Christians even on their holy
days.20 So Christianity may be idolatrous, but outside the Land of Israel Christians are not
necessarily idolators.

R. Tam, the Great Tosafist, claimed that the prohibition of trade applies only to what might be
used as an idolatrous sacrifice and not to any other sort of business, (Tosafot, to B Avodah Zara
2ª, "Assur").
The third approach sees a change in the actual status of Christianity. The fourteenth century
Provençal authority, R. Menachem Meiri, creates a new distinction between nations that are law
abiding and those that are not, i.e., that have positive ethical values, and a legal system to enforce
them, and those that do not. He describes the idolatrous nations to which he believes the Talmud
is referring as follows:21

Thus, while for Maimonides, for example, it is the object of worship, the theology, that defines
worship as idolatrous, for Meiri it is the lifestyle that is the deciding factor.22 Hence, according to
the Meiri there should be no prohibition to entering into a church, and certainly not an Episcopalian
one which is virtually bereft of images.
Furthermore, there are differences of opinion among the early authorities as to whether
trinitarianism is forbidden to gentiles. Clearly Jews are not permitted to believe in any form of
"partnership" (shituf) between God and other divine entities. Our God is a single unitary God. But
are gentiles permitted to believe that alongside God there are other (subservient? related?)
divinities? Maimonides clearly is of the opinion that this is absolutely forbidden for gentiles too,
since this is real idolatry, (Hilkhot Avodah Zarah chapters 1, 2).
However, the Rema (Orah Hayyim 156) rules that shituf is permitted for non-Jews, and in greater
detail in his Darkei Moshe ibid., basing himself on Rabbenu Yeruham, Toledot Adam 159c, and
Tosafot to Behorot 2b, s.v. Shema. The ruling of the Rema was interpreted in a variety of ways.
But the Shakh ad loc, and so too the Pithei Teshuvah to Yoreh Deah 147 clearly understood the
Rema as meaning that shituf was not prohibited to gentiles.

Hence, if we consider the view of the Meiri, on the one hand, and that of the Rema, on the other,
it will well appear that Christianity is not, as such, idolatrous, and it should not be prohibited to
enter a church, and certainly one that is virtually bereft of images.
Thus, we see that there are differences of opinion as to the halakhic status of Christianity, and this
in itself creates a degree of uncertainty, a safek, as to the status of Christianity. The Taz, in Yoreh
Deah 141, writes as follows:

20
Teshuvot R. Gershon Meor ha-Golah, ed. S. Eidelberg, New York 1957, 21 pp. 75-77
21
Beit ha-Behirah, Avodah Zarah, ed. A. Sofer, Jerusalem 1944, p.48, of pp. 3.28, 33, 46, 53
22
see M. Halbertal and Avishai Margalit, Idolatry, Cambridge Mass., 1992, pp.212-213; Y. Katz, Zion 1953. pp.15-30

55
It would seem that even though "uncertain idolatry" (safek avodah zarah) should be regarded with
stringency (le-humra), nonetheless in any case where there is a rationale (sevara) either to permit
or to forbid, one should deal leniently (raui le-hakel). For it is a principle that in all cases we do
not create prohibitions in areas of uncertainty (lo mahzikinan issura misafek), and we do not deal
stringently in cases of uncertainty, except where the prohibition is clearly established.
The RCA's Rebuke. It is true that the position of both R. Moshe Feinstein and R. J.D. Soloveitchik
was to discourage interfaith meetings, and presumably, this was the basis of the RCA's ruling and
consequently the reaction to Rabbi Lookstein's participation in this interfaith event. However, they
were referring to interfaith dialogues, when different religious parties attempt to persuade one
another of their theological legitimacy. This interfaith gathering on the other hand, involved no
sort of dialogue. Clearly, the Christian church was not legitimizing Islam or Buddhism in this
event. It was merely one of national solidarity to the President, encompassing representatives of
all faiths.
How would it have looked, if the representative of Orthodoxy had refused the President's invitation
while the Conservative and Reform agreed to be present? What would have been the perception
of the general public had they learned that an Orthodox Rabbi could not attend because he regarded
Christianity as idolatrous? In our days of increased antisemitism, is this the sort of publicity we
need? Would this have endeared us to the new President and the Christian public?
In my opinion, Rabbi Lookstein's participation constituted a kiddush ha-Shem, whereas the RCA's
press release was not only totally irresponsible but may also be regarded as a hillul ha-Shem.
Those distinguished Rabbis should have considered the questionable nature of Christianity's status,
and following the Taz, regarded the issue leniently. They should have considered the issue of
shelom malkhut, and perhaps even more mi-shum eiva and mi-pnei darkei shalom.

They should have been aware of the ruling in Shulhan Arukh Yoreh Deah 178:3 that "a Jew may
join government service and wear gentile clothes every day - thus violating a Torah prohibition
- so that when the day comes he will be in place to serve the good cause of the Jewish people."

Rabbi Lookstein did not hide his Jewishness, or his Orthodoxy, but proudly stepped into a church
publicly to show the American nation that Orthodox Jews also wish to express their thanks (hakarat
ha-Tovah) and solidarity together with the rest of the American people.

We explore now the possible (halachic) violation of the sanctity of Shabbat (time) and Shul
(space)…

56
Guns in Shuls

Mishnah Shabbat 6:4

57
Chief Rabbi Shlomo Goren writes:23

Regarding Shabbat observance, a firearm is no different than a Kiddush cup, and a holster is
no different than a decorative spread used to cover the challah loaves.... a firearm is something
that is needed for Shabbat observance, because it is intended for security, enabling a Jew to
celebrate the Shabbat in peace. Even though shooting a gun is a form of igniting fire, something
normally prohibited on Shabbat, in situations where life is imperiled, shooting a gun is a
mitzvah....

Rabbi Yehoshua Neurvert writes:24

A firearm is indeed categorized as “muktzah” since firing (ignited fire) is prohibited on Shabbat.
Nonetheless, carrying a firearm on Shabbat is allowed since it has a definite value as a deterrent
- discouraging enemies from attacking Jews on Shabbat. Therefore, it is needed for the
observance of Shabbat. Furthermore, since carrying a firearm is a deterrent, there is no need
for immediate danger in order to carry one. When the enemies of the Jews know that we are
ready to defend ourselves, mobs are less likely to rise up against us.

A Rav from Monsey asked Hagaon HaRav Chaim Kanievsky if guards with weapons should be
posted at shuls in America due to the recent spate of anti-Semitic incidents.

Rav Chaim first answered that everyone should do as they want. But then Rav Chaim was told that
the mispallelim want to do what the Rav tells them and Harav Chaim said not to post guards.

The second question was should some mispallelim acquire weapons to bring to shul?

Harav Chaim answered that they should if it’s pikuach nefesh.

The question was explained further that it’s not a matter of “immediate” pikuach nefesh, but of
potential pikuach nefesh due to the recent spike in anti-Semitic attacks.

Harav Chaim answered that mispallelim can bring weapons to shul.25

23
Mashiv Milchama
24
Shmirat Shabbat K’Hilchatah
25
https://www.theyeshivaworld.com/news/featured/1820975/psak-halachah-hagaon-harav-chaim-kanievsky-says-americans-can-
carry-guns-to-shul-see-the-video.html

58
The Gemara in Sanhedrin (‫ )פ''ב ע''א‬learns out from Parshas Balak that you may not bring a weapon
into a Beis Hamedrash.26

But what is the law for a shul, is it the same? The proof against it being permitted is from Shulchan
Aruch (‫ )'אור"ח סי' קנ"א סעיף ו‬where he brings that you may not bring a long knife. I am guessing
that means sword. This is because Davening extends life and weapons shorten. Therfore it would
seem it is Assur. (I am guessing this is the Halacha for America)

The Tzitz Eliezer27 goes into the topic in depth and says if there is no need than it should not
be brought into Shul and should be given to the Person guarding outside, but if they are brought in
the gun should not be loaded meaning the magazine should not be in the gun, and you should try
to cover it with your Tallis. Also, if it is loaded it should be covered.

This means it is optimal if the gun is in its holster closed if you are going to bring the gun in. Then
he fininshes saying: of course, I am talking in a place where there is no present danger but if there
is then you may have it loaded and on you but still try to put it down next to you, so it does not
interfere with your Davening. Rav Ovadiah Yosef Shlitah agrees in Yechaveh Daas (‫)חלק ה סימן יח‬.

Carrying firearms on Shabbat

Rabbi David Samson writes:28

26
https://judaism.stackexchange.com/questions/1955/bringing-a-gun-into-a-synagogue
27
‫חלק י' סימן י''ח‬
28
https://www.yeshiva.co/ask/13

59
Question

A recent Arutz 7 article stated that, "Investigations surrounding Islamic fundamentalists

apprehended in Europe reveal that bin-Laden terrorists are planning attacks against Jewish
communities, with targets including synagogues.” Several questions must be asked: 1) Is carrying
a firearm on Shabbat prohibited because it is “Muktzah"? 2) Is wearing a holster containing a
weapon considered impermissible carrying on Shabbat (as opposed to carrying a weapon in one’s
belt)? Presumably, one would only carry or use a firearm when threatened or while having a
reasonable belief one could be killed or maimed unless one is fully able to defend oneself. What
is a reasonable belief of being threatened? Seeing a mob of rioters coming toward you? Seeing a
potential attacker in the act of attacking you or someone else? Receiving a specific threat, either
by mail, telephone, or in person? Seeing someone who looks threatening (i.e., someone else visibly
armed or obviously hostile by his actions or words?)?

Answer

Before answering the question about carrying firearms on Shabbat, I would first like to relate to
the concern about safety. Since “Sept. 11” there is a growing concern amongst Diaspora Jewry for
their safety. This is a result of the marked rise in anti-Semitism that has been documented
worldwide. The potential growth of this anti-Semitism into an international rampage is certainly
frightening. However, when we look at this phenomenon in a historical perspective, we see that
the Jewish people have suffered waves of anti-Semitism from the time of the first Semite,
Abraham, when Nimrod threw him into a fiery furnace for believing in one G-d. As long as there
have been Jews, there have been Jew haters. Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, well known as the

Natziv of Volozhin, wrote a treatise on the subject of anti-Semitism known as “Rina shel Torah.”
In this study, the Natziv explains these waves of anti-Semitism. He says that anti-Semitism is the
tool used by G-d to remind the Jews that they are Jews. Sometimes Jews may forget that we were
created to be a special people with a Divine calling. When we forget ourselves, the anti-Semites
rise up to remind us of who we are. Rabbi Berlin further comments that the more we try to fit in
with the gentiles, the greater the persecution will be.

Rabbi Yaacov Emden, in the introduction to his scholarly prayer book, “Beit Yaacov,” writes that
“When it seems to us, in our present peaceful existence outside the Land of Israel, that we have
found another Eretz Yisrael and Jerusalem, this to me is the greatest, deepest, most obvious, and
direct cause of all of the awesome, frightening, monstrous, unimaginable destructions that we have
experienced in the Diaspora.”[1]

With this introduction, let’s return to the question about carrying a firearm on Shabbat because of
the growing danger to Jewish communities throughout the world. First, we would like to remind
our readers that one of the activities prohibited on Shabbat is carrying objects through a public
domain. Because Jews were lax about this prohibition, the Sages saw a need to reinforce it by also
prohibiting the handling of objects that are forbidden to be used on Shabbat.

60
These objects are “muktzah.” Examples are flashlights, computers, and chainsaws. Regarding the
question whether a firearm is “muktzah,” Rabbi Shlomo Goren, the first Chief Rabbi of the Army,
and later the Chief Rabbi of Israel, explains in his book, “Mashiv Milchamah,” that regarding
Shabbat observance, a firearm is no different than a Kiddush cup, and a holster is no different than
a decorative spread used to cover the challah loaves. He maintains that a firearm is something that
is needed for Shabbat observance, because it is intended for security, enabling a Jew to celebrate
the Shabbat in peace. Even though shooting a gun is a form of igniting fire, something normally
prohibited on Shabbat, in situations where life is imperiled, shooting a gun is a mitzvah.[2]

Rabbi Goren states, “Behold, a firearm is meant for firing since it is a mitzvah to shoot both on
weekdays or Shabbat, in instances when needed for self-defense or for attacking the enemy. And
it is not meant for non-security uses (like sport or hunting) so why should it be considered an object
that is forbidden on Shabbat?” [3]

What Rabbi Yehoshua Neurvert writes in his treatise on Shabbat, “Shmirat Shabbat K’Hilchatah,”
differs somewhat in his understanding, stating that a firearm is indeed categorized as “muktzah”
since firing (ignited fire) is prohibited on Shabbat. Nonetheless, he rules that carrying a firearm on
Shabbat is allowed since it has a definite value as a deterrent - discouraging enemies from attacking
Jews on Shabbat. Therefore, it is needed for the observance of Shabbat.

Furthermore, since carrying a firearm is a deterrent, there is no need for immediate danger in order
to carry one. When the enemies of the Jews know that we are ready to defend ourselves, mobs are
less likely to rise up against us. (It is important to note that these rulings apply to communities
where there is an “eruv,” a legal halachic enclosure, which permits carrying objects on Shabbat.)

When this question was asked many years ago, Rabbi Meir Kahane, may G-d avenge his death,
had a no-nonsense answer. Jews in Crown Heights and Boro Park, New York asked certain
American rabbis how they could prevent being mugged on Shabbat. They were told to carry ten-
dollar bills to give to their muggers, so they wouldn’t be beaten.

Rabbi Kahane protested this response, saying, “Instead of considering the permissibility of
carrying money on the Shabbat because of the need to save lives, let us consider the permissibility
of carrying guns on Shabbat for the defense and welfare of our Jewish communities.” [4]

1. For more on this theme, see the book, TORAT ERETZ YISRAEL, The Teachings of HaRav Tzvi Yehuda Kook.
2. “Mashiv Milchamah,” Vol. 2, Folio 54.
3. Loc cited, 20:12, subsection 28.
4. “Jewish Press,” October 17, 1975, article, “A Jew Dies in Brooklyn.”

61
 Staying Safe and Secure: Are All Security Measures Permitted on
Shabbos?
Rav Yosef Greenwald writes:29

The terrible tragedy that occurred in Pittsburgh left us all with a sense that we are not as safe as
we’d like to be. Many people want to increase the security of our public institutions. To this end,
it is important to delve into the halachos that relate to security measures on Shabbos.

Firearms On Shabbos:

The act of shooting a gun is clearly forbidden mid’oraysa, as when one shoots a gun, he creates a
combustion that is equivalent to making a fire.

We can assume that one would actually shoot a gun only if he was faced with a situation of serious
danger to one’s life – pikuach nefesh – in which case any measures may be taken. Therefore,
practically, this prohibition is not usually relevant.

More relevant would be the prohibition of carrying a gun to a shul through an area that is not
encircled by an eruv. If one must pass through a real rishus harabbim, carrying a gun would be a
Biblical prohibition. The concept of pikuach nefesh would not apply to this prohibition, as one
need not place himself into this situation. Even if it is deemed necessary to have armed guards in
shul, one may not transgress a d’oraysa in order to be able to daven in a shul.

29
https://baishavaad.org/staying-safe-and-secure-are-all-security-measures-permitted-on-shabbos/

62
However, carrying firearms to shul may be done through non-Jews. While it is forbidden to ask a
non-Jew to perform a melacha d’oraysa on Shabbos specifically for oneself, it is permitted in a
case of “tzorech gadol” – great need and going to shul on Shabbos is such a need.

If there is an eruv in the area, can a Jew bring the gun to shul or is a gun muktzah?

An object that is used exclusively in a way that is forbidden on Shabbos has the status of “muktzah
machmas issur”. Such items may not be handled on Shabbos at all. However, if an object can be
used in a permissible way on Shabbos, even if its main use is in a way that is forbidden, it has the
status of a “kli shemilachto l’issur” and may be handled in two ways: either “l’tzorech gufo”, for
use in a permissible way, or “l’tzorech mekomo”, to move because its place is needed. A hammer,
for example, is used for the act of building, but can also be used to crack nuts. Therefore, it may
be moved for one of those two reasons.

A gun falls under the category of kli shemilachto l’issur because, in addition to its use as a firearm,
it also is used to serve as a deterrent. Just seeing an armed guard will deter most criminals from
approaching a shul, and that, in and of itself, can be considered a use. Thus, it would be permitted
to carry a gun for this purpose. However, as soon as one gets home, he must put down the gun.

Security Cameras and Metal Detectors:

Another security measure that many shuls are considering is the installation of security cameras
and metal detectors, which leads to another halachic discussion.

This question arose a number of years ago when surveillance cameras were installed in the Old
City of Jerusalem, which led to the concern that when one walks in front of these cameras, he has
transgressed the prohibition of kosev, writing, as he is causing his image to be created on the
screen.

The contemporary Poskim, including Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach zt” l and Rav Yosef Shalom
Elyashiv zt” l, permitted one to walk in front of these cameras. They explained, based on the words
of earlier Poskim, that although it is forbidden to perform a melacha on Shabbos; however, it is
not necessarily forbidden to have a melacha performed as a result of your action if you did nothing
consciously to cause it to happen. Therefore, if someone is merely walking down the street, and
his picture is taken through no desire of his own, he has not transgressed any prohibition.

Similarly, if someone walks down a street and triggers an automatic light to go on, he has not
transgressed any prohibition, as he has not done any act of melacha.

This leniency, however, will not permit someone to walk up to his own house thereby triggering
automatic lights or surveillance cameras, as in such an instance he is deliberately doing an act that
causes a melacha.

63
When one walks through a metal detector, knowing that he has metal objects in his pocket that
will create an electric current that will set off an alarm, he would seemingly not have this leniency,
as he is physically performing an act that causes a melacha to be done.

Similarly, Rav Moshe Feinstein ruled that it is forbidden to use a microphone on Shabbos, even
though when one speaks into a microphone, he is not creating a new electric current but is merely
magnifying an existing one. He explains that since the magnification of the current is recognizable
to all, it is akin to a new current. Accordingly, going through a metal detector that does not create
a new current when triggered would only be permitted if the enhancement of the existing current
does not make a noise and is not recognizable.

The obvious solution would be to walk through the metal detector with no metal in one’s pocket,
and without any intention of setting it off. If one does so, he would not be actively performing
any melacha.

Regarding walking in front of closed-circuit cameras, one may walk down the street, as we
explained earlier, even if that means walking past cameras. However, to specifically walk into
one’s home or into a shul when one knows he will be pictured on camera would be problematic.

In any event, the actual operation of any such equipment on Shabbos should only be done by non-
Jews. May we all merit the protection of the One Above.

SANCTUARY AND THE SECOND AMENDMENT: DO

GUNS DESERVE SPECIAL PROTECTION?

64
 ROSALIND C. HUGHES W R I T E S : 30

At the dramatic climax of Victor Hugo’s famous gothic novel, Notre-Dame de Paris (better known
by anglophone readers as The Hunchback of Notre-Dame), the hunchback, Quasimodo, drops from
the cathedral on a rope and whisks La Esmeralda to safety, crying, “Sanctuary! Sanctuary!” As
long as she remains in the cathedral with him, Esmeralda will be safe from her otherwise imminent
execution.

As Hugo explains,

Now, some legislatures are applying the language of sacred sanctuary to gun rights. For
example, House Bill 62, recently introduced in my adopted home state of Ohio, aims to “Designate
Ohio a Second Amendment Sanctuary State,” resisting the imposition by federal law of any “tax,
levy, fee, or stamp,” or any “registering or tracking” of firearms, firearm accessories, ammunition,
or firearms owners “that might reasonably be expected to create a chilling effect on the purchase
or ownership of [firearms] by law-abiding citizens.” It would also veto the enforcement locally of
any restrictions on sales and transfers (which could affect the application of any expansion of
background checks), and any laws allowing for the confiscation of weapons from “law-abiding
citizens” (such as “red flag” laws).

The concept and language of sanctuary, the protection offered by sacred spaces from death and
vengeance, has a long history.

In the Bible, Moses is commanded to appoint sanctuary cities as places of refuge for those
committing accidental homicide, where the killer can remain safe from the claims of the deceased’s
family upon their blood (Numbers 35:9-34). This sanctuary is limited to manslaughter, not murder,
and it’s not to be exchanged for a financial ransom. It’s an interrupter, not an excuse, of bloody
violence, “for blood pollutes the land” (Numbers 35:33).

In early Christendom, the designation of churches as places of sanctuary was enshrined in Roman
law, and the practice of religious sanctuary continued through the Middle Ages. Even after it fell
out of the statute books in many places, the idea of the sacred space as one exempt from violence,
including the violence of arrest and imprisonment, persists.

30
https://religiondispatches.org/sanctuary-and-the-second-amendment-do-guns-deserve-special-protection/

65
Michael McLaughlin is a PhD candidate researching the intersection of guns, race, and religion at
Florida State University. He commented by email that,

Still more recently, the tradition of sacred spaces as sanctuaries has been used to protect people
and families from the dangers of deportation. One church in the Netherlands held religious services
round the clock for 96 days straight to prevent the arrest and deportation of an Armenian family in
2018-19. Designation of places of worship (among others) as “sensitive locations” caused a
faithful revival of the “sanctuary movement” as churches and other religious spaces hosted
individuals and families at risk of deportation during the Trump administration’s increased ICE
activity.

A local friend and colleague opened her church as a sanctuary when a mother feared that she would
be separated from her children and deported after a traffic stop. The Rev. Lisa O’Rear commented
by email:

Indeed, the tradition of sacred spaces as gun-free (weapon-free, violence-free, force-free) zones
makes the use of sanctuary language in recent “Second Amendment Sanctuary” legislation curious.
The turn from the use of “sanctuary” from its origins in restricting vengeance, violent enforcement,
and weaponry to the protection of gun-keeping within the sanctuary borders, while rhetorically
brilliant, feels particularly cynical when research shows that keeping more guns at hand makes us
less rather than more safe from harm.

The Brady campaign concludes that resolutions declaring “Second Amendment Sanctuaries”
within counties and cities are “purely symbolic and have no legal weight.” And in Texas, the author
of House Bill 2622, which “may be cited as the Second Amendment Sanctuary State Act,” told
the El Paso Times in April that his Bill would not prevent federal agents coming into Texas to
enforce new gun laws—but that they would get no help from the local authorities. The Bill was
sent to Governor Abbott’s desk before the Memorial Day weekend.

Of course, the history of sanctuary abounds with its own abuses. Victor Hugo wrote of, “the abuse
of impunity by the side of the abuse of punishment; two bad things which strove to correct each
other.” In that vein, Owen Chadwick, church historian, reported the “notorious case” of St Martin-

66
le-Grand in 15th-century London, where “a group of men living in a public sanctuary became little
more than a band of brigands issuing forth from an immune fastness.”

The fact remains that the origins and intentions of sanctuary lie in the preservation of life and the
prevention of bloodshed. The use of the language of sacred spaces designed to preserve the sanctity
of life to promote, instead, the status of guns among us twists its meaning and affords our
relationship with the deadly weapon a quasi-religious status that it too often claims. But sanctuary
is for people, not pistols, and the altars of refuge are dedicated not to the almighty gun, but to the
Creator of life itself. The language of “Second Amendment Sanctuaries” makes a mockery of the
long and deeply held religious and anti-violent traditions of sanctuary.

Our Daf speaks of ruined beit haknesses, a ruined Mikdash Me’at, a small Temple, but what of
the ruined sacred spaces of the soul?

Sanctuary Sacred Spaces and Temenos

67
A temenos (Greek: τέμενος; plural: τεμένη, temenē) is a piece of land cut off and assigned as an
official domain, especially to kings and chiefs, or a piece of land marked off from common uses
and dedicated to a god, a sanctuary, holy grove or holy precinct: the Pythian race-course is called
a temenos, the sacred valley of the Nile is the Νείλοιο πῖον τέμενος Κρονίδα ("the rich temenos
of Cronides by the Nile"), the Acropolis of Athens is the ἱερὸν τέμενος ("the holy temenos";
of Pallas), and the Kaaba (also referred to as al-Kaʿbah al-Musharrafah) inside the courtyard of
Islam's most important mosque, the Great Mosque of Mecca. The word derives from the Greek
verb τέμνω (temnō), "I cut". The earliest attested form of the word is the Mycenaean Greek , te-
me-no, written in Linear B syllabic script. The Latin equivalent was the fanum.
The concept of temenos arose in classical antiquity as an area reserved for worship of the gods.
Some authors have used the term to apply to a sacred grove of trees, isolated from everyday living
spaces, while other usage points to areas within ancient urban development that are parts of
sanctuaries.
A temenos is often physically marked by a peribolos fence or wall (e.g. Delphi) as a structural
boundary. Originally the peribolos was often just a set of marker stones demarcating the boundary,
or a light fence, and the earliest sanctuaries appear to have begun as a peribolos around a sacred
grove, spring, cave or other feature, with an altar but no temple or cult image. But as Greek
sanctuaries became more elaborate large stone walls with gateways or gatehouses were built
around important sanctuaries, though the most famous, the Athens Acropolis, was a palace and
military citadel turned into a sanctuary.
A temenos enclosed a sacred space called a hieron; all things inside of this area belonged to the
god. Greeks could find asylum within a sanctuary and be under the protection of the deity and
could not be moved against their will.

A large example of a Bronze Age Minoan temenos is at the Juktas Sanctuary of

the palace of Knossos on ancient Crete in present-day Greece, the temple having a massive

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northern temenos. Another example is at Olympia, the temenos of Zeus. There were many temene
of Apollo, as he was the patron god of settlers.
In religious discourse in English, temenos has also come to refer to a territory, plane, receptacle or
field of deity or divinity.
C. G. Jung relates the temenos to the spellbinding or magic circle, which acts as a 'square space'
or 'safe spot' where mental 'work' can take place. This temenos resembles among others a
'symmetrical rose garden with a fountain in the middle' (the 'squared circle') in which an encounter
with the unconscious can be had and where these unconscious contents can safely be brought into
the light of consciousness. In this manner one can meet one's own Shadow, Animus/Anima, Wise
Old Wo/Man (Senex) and finally the Self, names that Jung gave to archetypal personifications of
(unpersonal) unconscious contents which seem to span all cultures.[

The temenos is the place of meeting your unconscious.

The Temenos originated in Greek culture (Greek: τέμενος; plural: τεμένη, temene) as a piece of
land cut off from common uses and dedicated to a god, a sanctuary or holy grove of trees. So, the
space we create together is not of everyday commerce and the daily round, but an opportunity to
think the deep thoughts and sink into the deep waters of the soul.

C. G. Jung relates the temenos to a protected space in which inner work can take place. There are
many images which evoke the temenos, such as a garden divided into four equal quadrants, usually
with a fountain or statue in the middle. Another example of an image of the temenos is the Tibetan
Yantra.

The Tibetan sand mandala represents the squaring of the circle and the temenos. The squared circle
is, for contemporary seekers of the inner life, represents an encounter with the unconscious. The
temenos is a safe holding place where these unconscious contents are consciously examined.

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Harry Oldmeadow writes:31

Eliade discerns a great divide in the human past, cutting off archaic and historical man from
modern man. Archaic man lives in a world whose meaning and value is articulated symbolically,
through a mythology which is enacted and re-actualized in ritual and ceremonial life. Historical
man is more conscious of himself in time, but his world view remains profoundly religious and
spiritual.

Modern man, by contrast, lives not in an ordered and meaningful cosmos but a chaotic, opaque
and mute universe in which he has lost the capacity for religious experience: „the desacralized
cosmos is a recent discovery of the human spirit. ‟

Such is the legacy of a materialistic scientism. These differences are thrown into sharp relief in
Eliade‟s work by his treatment of archaic and modern ways of understanding time and space. For
the traditional mentality space is not homogeneous, as it is for modern science, but is qualitatively
determined.

Sacred space, both natural and man-made, is ordered, meaningful and centered, while profane
space is chaotic, meaningless and threatening. Sacred space is „organized‟ round a centre, a point
at which hierophanies occur, at which the barriers between the physical, psychic and spiritual
dimensions of reality become permeable and transparent.

31
https://www.themathesontrust.org/papers/metaphysics/Jung%20&%20Mircea%20Eliade%20H%20Oldmeadow.pdf

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Time too is qualitatively determined, and is cyclical and repeatable, or „recoverable‟. Space and
time are sanctified by their relationship to that which is sacred, which is to say that which is
immutable, beyond the world of flux, beyond time and space. Modern conceptions of time and
space, on the other hand, are mechanistic, materialistic and one-dimensional. Furthermore, says
Eliade, our encounters with other spiritual universes are urgently necessary for our own spiritual
health. We must no longer regard them „as immature episodes or as aberrations from some
exemplary history of man—a history conceived, of course, only as that of Western man.

Violence and Sacred Space

Heather Greene writes:32

“I can’t begin to wrap my mind around the fact that this senseless act of violence happened on
sacred ground. It does not matter that my spiritual path is different from those at Mother Emanuel
… what matters is the sacredness of where they were when this occurred.” 33

In recent months, it seems that news report after news report speaks of violence either against or
within a sacred space. These acts range from the horrifying terrorist attack at Charleston’s Mother
Emanuel to the destruction of ancient religious sites. While the magnitude of each tragedy is, and
never should be, comparable, these two specific examples, as well as others, involve unwelcome
aggression and destructive violence against far more than body and property. They include the
desecration of the sacred.

32
https://wildhunt.org/2015/07/violence-and-sacred-space.html
33
Kelly Scott, Chairwoman of the Charleston Area Lowcountry Council of Alternative Spiritual Traditions.

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 Romanian Church Burning

Why does violence against the sacred or within the sacred “feel” worse to us than violence in non-
sacred space? What is this transgression exactly? And what imprint does it leave in its wake?[i]
In a recent discussion, I asked priest, spirit worker and devotional Polytheist Anomalous Thracian
his thoughts. Thracian not only maintains several personal altar spaces, but he also is currently
working to build a community worship space. He said:

The invisible boundaries that define a sacred space, whether that be within the walls of a church
or outside in a field, are created by deeply felt meaning. Those meanings, based on belief, spirit
and emotion, can be or often seem like abstractions. However, because the sanctity of the space
itself is recognized and understood beyond the meaning-makers or the churchgoers, the
boundaries, as Thracian said, are not at all abstractions.

In other words, Pagans can respect the sacred nature of a Christian church, even if they don’t
follow the religion; and vice versa, a Christian can recognize the sanctity of Wiccan circle or
Heathen temple. “The intrinsic lines” separating the sacred from the common world “are not
abstractions.” This accounts for Charleston’s community turnout in support of the AME church.

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As Scott said, “It does not matter that my spiritual path is different from those at Mother
Emanuel….”

Unfortunately, it is also this universal understanding that precipitates the violence itself. The
attacker knows the value placed on the space, which makes it a target. In his book War on Sacred
Grounds, Ron Eduard Hassner wrote “The more sacred a site, the more likely it will provide
crucial functions, the more likely the friction with other groups, and the greater the odds of
large-scale violence…”[ii]

The attack is, therefore, not typically directed against an individual person, nor against the practice
of religion in general. It is an attack on a people; on a community at its heart and center. In the
case of Charleston and the recent church burnings, the attack is on America’s black community.

In the essay “Sacred Spaces and Accursed Conflict: A Global Trend,” Chaiwat Satha-Anand wrote,
“When a site becomes sacred for its believers, it is founded on the four political pillars:
sovereignty, legitimacy, meaning and a sense of community. As a result, attacking sacred spaces
is seen as an attempt to undermine the foundations on which their opponent’s identity and faith
rests.” (p. 27)

Traditionally speaking, churches, temples and other sacred sites have been the “foundations” and
hearts of community. While in today’s secular-based society the so-called “master planned cities”
are developed around commerce and recreation, there is still room for the sacred as a binding factor
and identity maker. Even if the sacred space isn’t physically central, or if there is no building at
all, the space can still remain the heartbeat of a community. For example, in local Wiccan circles
or even in large yearly festivals like Pagan Spirit Gathering, it is the sabbats and the seasons that
bring people together, year after year, into a sacred, ritual space. Whether the circle is in a home
or a forest, it is a communal world built with the noted pillars of meaning, sovereignty, legitimacy
and community.

Is that space sacred without human intervention? That discussion is beyond this article. However,
at this point, it is enough to know that the sacred has traditionally been recognized as central to
community and even to personal identity building.

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 Notre-Dame still sits at the center of Paris

In our conversation, Thracian agreed, noting that violence against the sacred “is a violation of the
entire fabric of what binds people together.” He added:

Mother Emanuel’s victims had faith in the sanctity of the church’s building, and that faith built
meaning into its walls, thereby creating a sacred environment. It is in that place they studied
theology, spoke with their deity, celebrated and mourned. With guards down, they felt secure, held
within the promise of that sanctity. Based on this understanding, they permitted a stranger not only
into the physical building but into that safe space, into that trust.

In that respect, sacred spaces can act as expressions of divine hospitality. In other words, just as a
temple serves to nurture its own people, the space also easily welcomes the stranger. Whether it
be a Christian church, a Wiccan circle or an Asatru temple, all are constructed houses of or for
deity and, as such, spaces of welcome. At Pagan Spirit Gathering, for example, guests, both old
and new, are greeted with the words, “Welcome Home.” All are invited to experience the
community as well as the divine. Since sacred boundaries are considered universal and not
abstract, it is easy to offer, accept and value this hospitality. Therefore, any violence against or
within that sacred space becomes a jarring violation of this divine hospitality, as well as a direct
devaluation of a community’s worth.

Unfortunately, the June attack on Mother Emanuel is not the only recent instance of violence
within sacred space, and it is not even the most recent. Many will remember the 2012 terrorist

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attack on The Sikh Temple of Wisconsin. During Sunday morning services, Wade Michael Page
entered the building, open fired and killed seven people. This past March, Al Badr mosque and Al
Hashoosh mosque in Yemen were the targets of a suicide bombing that killed 137 people. More
recently, during the holy month of Ramadan, terrorists attacked worshippers at al-Imam al-Sadiq
mosque in Kuwait, killing 13. These are only a few such incidents.

Violence against or within sacred space is not limited to cases where there is loss of life. Along
with the recent church burnings in the U.S., terrorists are engaged in the systematic destruction of
ancient sacred sites. In an article partially entitled “Tracking a Trail of Historical Obliteration,”
CNN recounts the recent destruction of religious sites such as Jonah’s Tomb, Nimrud, Hatra and
Bosra. According to news reports, Daesh (also known as the Islamic State) is now calling for the
“obliteration” of the Egyptian pyramids and Sphinx.

The ruination of sacred sites is not limited to terrorist acts. Commercialism, colonialism, expansion
and “progress” have all been blamed for such transgressive acts. And such accounts are not only
in our history books. In a March 2015 article, entitled “Selling off Apache Land,” The New York
Times reports that the San Carlos Apache Tribe has been fighting to save Oak Flat, an area used
for prayer and ceremonies, from mining interests.

In The Guardian, Eriel Tchekwie Deranger, a member of the Athabasca Chipewyan First Nation,
writes “Canada’s Tar Sands aren’t just oil fields, they are sacred lands for my people.” These are
just two examples of many from around the world.

Moonrise over San Carlos Apache land in New Mexico

Whether land or edifice, sacred spaces promise connection and safety, created by a communal
meaning. They exist at the heart of community and are often bonding points. However, these sacred

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spaces also have another role. They connect us, through memory, to our past and to spirit. Thracian
said:

As noted in The New York Times Apache Land article, “the archaeological record at Oak Flat
contains abundant evidence that the Apache have been there since well before recorded
history.” The Apache Tribe is protecting more than just a plot of dirt on which they perform
ceremony. Through the sacred we can locate a connection across time, which allows us to deepen
our present and develop our future.

Memory itself, absent of religion, can even bring about this condition of sanctity. The spaces to
which we nostalgically cling become sacred themselves – our childhood bedroom, a grandmother’s
kitchen, a pet’s burial ground, the park bench where you had your first kiss or even a quiet spot in
the forest where you once hid. While not traditionally or religiously sacred, these places are
personal examples that demonstrate how memory brings about sanctity.

In that vein, there is a type of sacred space that is born of violence and its memory. The 9/11
Memorial, otherwise known as Ground Zero, was once a thriving business center in which two
iconic towers stood. They were symbolic of both New York City and the thriving heart of
American business. In that way, the Twin Towers were similar to a church, containing more
meaning than existed within its physicality alone. However, the space was not sacred.

All of that changed on Sept. 11, 2001. Today, the memorial’s meaning far exceeds its construction
and its past purpose. Here, violence begot the sacred. Within that memorial space, visitors connect
to memory, to ancestors and even to deity. The memorial’s guards request low voices and
respectful behavior. All around, people pray, cry, remember and walk slowly in thought. Other
examples of such a space are Auschwitz, the Anne Frank House, battlefields such as Gettysburg
or Normandy. And there are many countless smaller memorials around the world that mark past
atrocities, loss of life and acts of violence, all of which have given way to sacred space.

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 9/11 Memorial, New York City

When violence births the sacred, it is difficult to reconcile the two in one thought. Even when one
is put back together. While the 9/11 memorial is a beautiful place, it only exists because of that
violence. This develops a sanctity that is uncomfortable, but powerful, nonetheless. You can’t
appreciate the memorial’s beauty without acknowledging the tragedy. That is not easy.

In all cases, transgressive violence against the sacred suggests a toxic aggression – one that breaks
down community. The sacred is about wholeness and congruity; violence is about division and
chaos. One nurtures and supports; while the other undermines and destroys. They can’t coexist;
therefore, together they create a discord in our thinking – a cognitive dissonance. There is, at that
terrible intersection, a stuttered void, in which we find ourselves only able to ask: “How? Why?”

[i] This essay discusses unwelcome and toxic violence aimed at community destruction or obliteration. This must be distinguished
from any small ritual acts, which in some cultures are considered acceptable including, for example, animal sacrifice or effigy
burnings.

[ii] This quote was pulled from Chaiwat Satha-Anand’s essay “Sacred Spaces and Accursed Conflict: A Global Trend?” which
was published in the book Protecting the Sacred, Creating Peace in Asia PacificTransaction (2013). Hassner’s own book, War on
Sacred Grounds, was published by Cornell University Press in 2009.

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