Halakhic Stringencies during the Days of Repentance
Halakhic
Stringencies during the Days of Repentance
By Rav Yosef
Translated by
I.
THe
Halakhic Obligation
The Talmud
Yerushalmi states:
R. Chiyya the Elder
instructed Rav: If you can eat ordinary food in [the state of] purity [required
for teruma], do so; and if not, eat it [in such a manner] seven days a
year. (Yerushalmi Shabbat 1:3)
R. Chiyya told Rav that if he could not eat his ordinary food in a state
of purity all year round, he should be punctilious about this at least seven
days a year. This statement is cited by the Rosh (end of Rosh Ha-Shana,
in the name of the Ra'avya), who understands it as a reference to the Ten Days
of Repentance. The Tur explains R. Chiyya's mention of "seven days" as
follows:
He calls them "seven
days" because regarding Rosh Hashana it was unnecessary to admonish him
to eat [his ordinary food] in a state of purity, for it was obvious that he
would eat it in that manner, as a person is obligated to purify himself for a
festival. Accordingly, only seven non-festival days remained regarding which he
had to admonish him.[1]
(Orach Chaim 603)
Today, we are all ritually impure with the impurity contracted through
contact with a corpse, and the Yerushalmi passage therefore has no
practical significance.[2]
The Rosh, however, derived from this passage a law that is relevant even in our
time regarding pat akum, the bread of a non-Jew:
It is therefore
customary in Ashkenaz that even those who do not abstain from pat akum
all year round abstain from it during the Ten Days of Repentance.
(ibid.)
Similarly, the Shulchan Arukh rules:
Even someone who does
not [ordinarily] abstain from pat akum must abstain from it during the
Ten Days of Repentance. (Orach Chaim 603:1)
In this spirit, the
Acharonim bring similar laws regarding a variety of issues. The Mateh
Efrayim writes:
Those who teach young
children and lads – God forbid that they should cancel their course of teaching
during this period, when owing to our many sins many people treat the matter
lightly during this time… Anyone with a trace of the fear of God in his heart
should grow stronger during these days to study with his students
with great diligence, both young and old. (603)
That is to say, one should increase Torah study during this period.
Another ruling deals with the attempt to increase one's store of mitzvot
specifically during this period:
Pious people are
accustomed to act with alacrity and go out early to buy themselves beautiful and
choice etrogs. (ibid.)
Another ruling is brought in the Maharil:
It once happened
during the Ten Days of Repentance that a ban was pronounced in a synagogue in
connection with a lost object, and the Maharil was furious with that person,
asking how he could investigate the matter with a ban during these days, when
our lives hang in the balance…[3]
Owing to the fact
that the pronunciation of a ban stirs up the Divine attribute of strict justice,
a ban should not be pronounced during the Ten Days of
Repentance.
The Kaf Ha-Chaim writes that during the Ten Days of Repentance it is
proper to be careful not to eat any food that gave rise to a halakhic question,
even if a halakhic authority permitted it.[4] Other Acharonim also make
reference to special laws applying during the Ten Days of Repentance.[5]
These laws give rise to a question: Are we not dealing here with
hypocrisy and fraud? The problem is twofold, for in addition to the problem of
deceit, these practices seem to constitute a challenge to the belief that God is
all-knowing. Doesn't God know that this conduct is short-lived? Doesn't He know
that this person eats pat akum all year round and that he will continue
to do so next year as well?
II.
Renewal in the
World
One possible approach
to solving our problem is to assume that the change in conduct during the Ten
Days of Repentance is meant to serve as the foundation for attempted long-term
change. The Ten Days of Repentance are not only days of judgment, but also days
of renewal, carrying the potential for change in a person's conduct, and during
which he is called upon to try and improve his actions even if he is not sure
that the change will be permanent.
God created the
universe and all of nature with natural cycles and the possibility of renewal.
All of creation renews itself all the time: every morning the sun rises anew;
every evening the moon makes a new appearance; every spring brings new
flowering; every year the earth completes another revolution around the
sun.
This renewal is
implanted in creation, in the world and in man. R. Kook developed this
principle, saying that even falling is part of the cyclical nature of the
created world. Indeed, all of creation is built on renewal and descent: flowers
blossom in the spring, but wither in the winter; the sun rises in the morning,
but sets in the evening, and the like. Falling is necessary for man as well, but
what is most important about man is his desire to advance and achieve
perfection:
The moral sense
demands of man righteousness and good, perfection. And moral perfection – how
distant it is from man to actually realize it!… How can he aspire to that which
is not within his capability whatsoever?
For this, repentance
is natural to man, and it perfects him. If a person is constantly liable to
stumble, to impair righteousness and morality - this does not impair his
perfection, because the foundation of his perfection is the permanent yearning
and desire for perfection. This desire is the foundation of repentance,[6]
for it always overcomes his path in life, and truly perfects it. (Orot
Ha-Teshuva, chap. 5, no. 6)
Even though flowers wither in the winter, they blossom anew in the
spring. Man tries to draw close to his perfect state, even though he knows from
the very outset that he will stumble along the way. Like the renewal process in
nature, God granted us the possibility of renewing ourselves at all times, but
especially at the beginning of the year.
Regarding most of the Musaf offerings mentioned in Parashat
Pinchas, the Torah uses the expression, "ve-hikravtem," "and you
shall sacrifice" (Bamidbar 28:19,26; 29:8,13,36). Regarding the sacrifice
of Rosh Hashana, however, it uses the term, "va-asitem," "and you
shall make" (ibid. 29:2). From here Chazal learned:
Regarding all the
Musaf offerings, it is written: "ve-hikravtem," but here it is
written: "va-asitem isheh." How so? The Holy One, blessed be He, said to
Israel: My children, I regard you as if you were made before Me on this very
day, as if today I created you anew.[7]
On Rosh Hashana, God promises us that we turn into new creatures;
we enjoy a fresh beginning and turn over a new page.[8]
Even if until now a person ate pat akum, he should try - at least
at the beginning of his remaking – not to eat pat akum; he should try to
improve himself however he can. Despite the fact that up until now he had failed
in these efforts, this new beginning may perhaps pave the way for the future.
Even if he does not reach full success, he may still enjoy partial success. Even
if he stumbles along the way, a person must yearn for perfection at all
times.
III.
A Revelation of
Strengths
It is also possible
that the purpose of the special stringencies observed during this period is that
we should once again try to uncover our strengths and abilities. This idea is
clarified in the Ba'al Shem Tov's allegory about
repentance:
I once heard a
parable from my grandfather about a king who, by magic, surrounded his palace
with many walls. Then he hid himself within the palace. The formidable walls
were arranged in concentric circles, one inside the other, and they grew
increasingly larger as one approached the center. They had fortified battlements
and were manned by fierce soldiers who guarded from above; wild animals - lions
and bears - ran loose below. All this was so that those who approached would
have proper awe and fear of the king and so that not all who desired to approach
would be allowed to do as they pleased…
The king then had
proclamations sent throughout the kingdom saying that whoever came to see him in
his palace would be richly rewarded; he would be given a rank second to none in
the king's service. Who would not desire this? But when many came and saw the
outer wall's awesome size and the terrifying soldiers and animals, most were
afraid and turned back.
There were some,
however, who succeeded in scaling that wall and fighting past the soldiers and
animals, but then the second wall loomed before their eyes, even more imposing
than the first, and its guards even more terrible. Seeing that, many others
turned back…
None reached the
king… except for the king's son. He had only one desire: to see the face of his
beloved father. When he came and saw the walls, soldiers, and wild animals, he
was astonished. He could not understand how his dear father could hide himself
behind all these terrifying barriers and obstacles.
"How can I ever reach
him?" he thought. Then he began to weep, and cried out, "Father, Father, have
compassion on me; don't keep me away from you!"
Again and again he
called out to him. His father the king, hearing his son's pathetic cries and
seeing his total self-sacrifice, suddenly, instantaneously, removed the walls
and other obstacles. In a moment they vanished as if they had never existed.
Then his son saw that there were no walls, soldiers, or animals. His father the
king was right before him, sitting on his majestic throne while multitudes of
servants stood near to serve him and choirs sang his praises. Gardens and
orchards surrounded the palace on all sides. And the whole earth shone from the
king's glory.[9]
The moral of this allegory is clear: A person is afraid to change, to
repent. Repentance seems to be very distant from him. But after a person
succeeds in crossing the barriers and obstacles, he suddenly realizes how his
present situation is so appropriate for him. He suddenly understands that the
obstacles that he had seen earlier were an optical illusion. He suddenly
realizes that his previous situation had been totally inappropriate for him, and
it is precisely his present situation that is so good, so
appropriate.
At the beginning of the year a person should try everything; he should
try to repair everything, to improve everything, and to elevate himself in all
ways. It may later become clear that this intensity is indeed too much for him.
But it is also certainly possible that after experimenting with his strengths,
he will find new strengths. He will discover that things that he had been sure
are not relevant to him are indeed relevant to him; he will understand that the
palace that had seemed so distant from him is in fact very
close.
This is particularly appropriate at the beginning of the year. As stated,
the beginning of the year is accompanied by renewal, a feeling of turning over a
new leaf, and therefore it is an appropriate time for discovering new strengths;
it is an appropriate time for examining whether we have certain strengths that
we were unaware of before. And if we have turned into a new person at the
beginning of the year, perhaps we have also acquired new
strengths.
IV.
The King in the
Field
These special
stringencies may not stem only from the discovery of new strengths during the
period. This can also take place at a different time. It is possible that the
stringencies of this period stem from the fact that it is precisely then that
the chances of success are greater. According to a well-known allegory found in
the Tanya, during the month of Elul the king is found, as it were, out in
the field, and therefore it is possible to connect with him in special manner.
This is as opposed to the rest of the year, when the king is found inside the
royal palace, and only special people are able to approach
him:
This can be
understood based on the analogy to a king who before he enters a city, people go
out… to greet him and welcome him in the field. At that time, anyone who so
desires may greet him and he receives them all with a kind and joyful face… And
when he goes to the city, they all follow after him. (Likkutei Torah, 32,
1)
This allegory is, of course, based on the statement of Chazal in
Rosh Ha-Shana (18a) that the verse, "Seek the Lord while He may be found"
(Yeshayahu 55:6) refers to the "ten days between Rosh Hashana and
Yom Kippur" (although the Tanya extends this to all of
Elul). The Tanya, however, adds that during this period God goes out to
the field and everyone joins Him. At the end of this period, they do not part
ways; just the opposite: "And when he goes to the city, they all follow after
him."
In light of this, it may be suggested that people try to do things during
the Ten Days of Repentance that they cannot do all year round, because now, when
the king is nearby, the likelihood is greater that these attempts will succeed.
The hope, of course, is that they will return with the king to the city and
continue to do these special things there as well, but the attempt to do them
takes place now because now they are capable of more. Now the king is in the
field, and in his presence it is possible to reach especially high
achievements.
V.
The Value of
Temporary Repentance
The statements of the
posekim relating to our issue seem, however, to contradict the approach
adopted above, according to which the stringencies observed during the Ten Days
of Repentance are meant to lead to continued observance of these stringencies
the rest of the year.
The Arukh
Ha-Shulchan (Orach Chaim 603) writes that the laws regarding which
we are stringent during the Ten Days of Repentance are merely matters of
"hiddur," embellished observance of the mitzvot. We do not
practice stringency during the Ten Days of Repentance with respect to matters
that are subject to a dispute between the posekim regarding whether they
are permitted or forbidden. His rationale is that when a person observes a
prohibition regarding matters that are subject to a dispute, he accepts that
prohibition upon himself as if by way of an oath. Therefore, were he to practice
stringency during the Ten Days of Repentance, he would not be able to return to
the more lenient practice after Yom Kippur.
Other posekim,
however, imply otherwise. The Tashbetz (no. 117; cited in the Bet Yosef,
Orach Chaim 603) asks how the Rosh extended the law regarding eating
ordinary food in purity to eating pat akum. Surely eating ordinary food
in an impure state does not involve the violation of any prohibition, whereas
eating pat akum does! The Bet Yosef responded to this
argument as follows:
This is not an
argument, for inasmuch as the prohibition is not clear-cut, but rather it
depends on custom, since when he refrains from eating it, his intention is
merely to refrain from eating it during these days, it is obvious that it
does not become forbidden to him the rest of the year.
That is to say, there is no problem of an oath because he has no
intention of accepting upon himself a prohibition for the entire year, but
rather only for the Ten Days of Repentance. He therefore can accept upon himself
even things that are subject to a halakhic dispute as to whether or not they are
forbidden by strict law. In similar fashion, the posekim write that it is
proper to be stringent about the prohibition of chadash during the Ten
Days of Repentance, and about other matters as well (Elef La-Magen,
603:2).
Either way, what is common to both positions is that it is clear from the
outset that there is no intention to continue to observe the various
stringencies after the Ten Days of Repentance. If so, we come back to our
original question: What is the value of this temporary conduct when there is no
intention to continue with it during the rest of the year?
The Elef La-Magen (603:2) writes in the name of the Ramak that the
reason for the special stringencies during this period is that that God sits on
the throne of mercy and acts with piety, and we therefore must also conduct
ourselves with special piety during this period. Accordingly, our conduct is not
meant to improve our standing in judgment, but rather reflects our desire to
imitate the ways of the Creator (which will also impact upon our standing in
judgment). A person conducts himself in a manner that is different than the way
he conducts himself the rest of the year – beyond the letter of strict law - and
he hopes that God will deal with him in a manner that goes beyond the letter of
strict law.
Rabbenu Mano'ach (Bi'ur Le-Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Chametz
U-Matza 1:5) writes that since these are days of pardon and forgiveness, a
person must be extremely careful not to do anything involving even a trace of
sin, so that he will stir himself to repent. It seems from here that the special
stringencies observed during these days are meant to bring us to an awakening.
If a person observes special stringencies, they will bring him to contemplate
the essence of repentance, to examine his actions, and to fully repent. It turns
out, then, that the change in conduct is not directed at God, but at the person
himself.
VI.
A "Convalescent Home"
for the Soul
Beyond all of these
explanations, the laws with which we opened this discussion contain an even more
novel statement. It seems to me that the Ten Days of Repentance have independent
value. First of all, as we have seen, all of creation works in cycles of
flowering and withering. In the absence of renewed flowering, it is very
possible that the fall would be much greater.[10]
According to this, flowering is necessary, despite the fact that it is
temporary, so that when deterioration arrives, it will not bring us down to the
lowest of depths.
It seems, however,
that we can point to yet another layer of explanation. No one can live his
entire life at the summit; no one can pray all year round as he does on Rosh
Hashana. But woe to the person who never in his life reaches the summit, and
woe to the person who never in his life experiences a Rosh Hashana
prayer!
Just as there is a
convalescent home for the body, so too there must be a "convalescent home" for
the soul. There must be a certain period during which the soul undergoes maximum
treatment, during which it operates at maximum intensity. There must be times
when a person can direct all of his attention to his soul in order to develop it
and to raise it to the highest level.
This climax has
independent importance. Even if a person knows from the outset that he will not
be able to maintain this intensity all year long, it is nevertheless important
that there be several days a year during which the soul reaches its peak. This
flowering of the soul is meant to leave its mark on the entire year. Even when
the special practices observed during the Ten Days of Repentance do not find
practical expression, they impact upon the person's spiritual level and upon his
actions and thoughts in other realms.
This approach has
practical ramifications. Sometimes, people remain in the category of "mediocre"
even during the Ten Days of Repentance because they do not want to do things
that they feel they are incapable of continuing the rest of the year. A person
must try to reach his maximum during these days, even regarding those matters
that he knows he cannot possibly continue.
During this period,
our mission is two-fold. On the one hand, we must remember that we are turning
over a new leaf and that we must try to continue to observe those practices that
we accepted upon ourselves during the rest of the year as well. This applies
both to practices involving our relationship with God and to practices involving
our relationships with other people. We must fill ourselves with the hope and
aspiration that even though we failed in certain missions over the course of the
previous year, we will succeed in them during the coming year. At the same time,
however, we must accept certain things upon ourselves that we know from the very
outset we will not be able to continue for the entire year. We must reach the
summit in our prayers and in our spiritual, religious, and moral intensity. Even
if we fail to maintain that level in all these areas, these days of climax will
have an impact upon us throughout the year. Even if a person once again eats
pat akum, the fact that he refrained from eating it for several days, the
fact that he was especially meticulous in his prayers, the fact that he studied
Torah with heightened diligence, gives him strength and raises his spiritual
level for the entire year. These things elevate his soul, and even if he does
not continue with them, they will surely influence the rest of his behavior over
the course of the year.
[1]
The Or Zaru'a (II, no. 257) brings this explanation in the name of the
Ge'onim, who understood that the Yerushalmi speaks only of seven
days because one should fast on the two days of Rosh Hashana and on
Yom Kippur (but one does not fast on the rest of the Ten Days of
Repentance). The Or Zaru'a himself disagrees with this approach and
argues that R. Chiyya instructed Rav to be careful to eat ordinary food in a
state of purity on any seven days of the year that he chose. The Darkei Moshe
(Orach Chaim 603), who also understands that the Yerushalmi
refers to the Ten Days of Repentance, offers a different explanation as to
why it speaks of "seven days:" the bread that one eats on Rosh Hashana is
in any case ritually pure, because everybody kneads their bread at home in honor
of Yom Tov.
[2]
The Magen Avraham (Orach Chaim, 603, in the name of the Shela)
writes that one should be stringent about the matter even in our time, but many
authorities disagree with him.
[3]
Hilkhot Aseret Yemei Teshuva; this law is brought by the Rama, Orach
Chaim 602:1.
[4]
Orach Chaim, 608:31 in the name of Yafeh la-Lev 5:
5.
[5]
Responsa Machazeh Avraham (I, no. 36) writes in the name of the
Tanya, that one must abstain from luxuries during the Ten Days of
Repentance. The Ba'er Heitev (Orach Chaim 240, no. 4)
writes in the name of Shayarei Kenneset Ha-Gedola that it is proper not
to engage in marital relations during the Ten Days of Repentance; this is
difficult to understand, as it is only the High Priest who is separated from his
wife seven days before Yom Kippur (Yoma 1:1), implying that other people
are permitted to engage in marital relations. See Responsa Zekher Simcha
72 and Yalkut ha-Gershuni 602. It seems that this practice was only
proposed as a middat chasidut, "an expression of special
piety."
[6]
According to the accepted view, repentance is a repair; the normal state in the
world is without repentance, but when something goes wrong, repentance is
required. R. Kook argued that repentance is part of the nature of the world and
of man. Therefore, Chazal said (Pesachim 54a) that repentance
preceded the world. In other words, it is the foundation on which the world was
created. The world was created with ups and downs, with the desire to improve
and develop, to draw closer to perfection, to Divine force. Repentance is
something that takes place at all times, and a person must try to reach his own
personal perfection.
[7]
Vayikra Rabba 29: 12 (ed. Margaliyot, p.
686).
[8]
The Ramban, in his derasha for Rosh Hashana, proves that the year
begins in Tishrei both from the fact that Chazal say that the
world was created in Tishrei (the view of R. Eliezer in Rosh Ha-Shana
8a) and from the fact that it is the beginning of the agricultural season.
In Tishrei, we begin to plow and plant, whereas in the summer we harvest,
and at the end of the year (until Sukkot) we gather the produce. The
Ramban needs this proof in order to teach us that not only was the world once
created in Tishrei, it is created every year anew in Tishrei.
See
[9]
Degel Machaneh Efrayim, Haftarat Ki-Tavo, s.v. kumi
ori.
[10]
This may be likened to a sloppy person who writes in a notebook. At first his
writing will be reasonable, but as he proceeds, it will become more and more
illegible. A new notebook will allow for a new start and stop the
deterioration.