Menachos – Daf 6
Our Gemara on amud aleph discusses the halacha that shaatnez, a forbidden combination of wool and linen, is permitted in the priestly vestments.
Why does the Torah make this exception? It is also interesting to note that the Torah allows shaatnez in tzitzis, so that the sky-blue techeles thread can be wool and the other threads linen (Yevamos 4a). By studying the exceptions to the rule, we are able, inductively, to reason and understand the rule itself. Another distinctive example of this linen and wool combination is that it appears in many of the materials used to manufacture the curtains and covers of the Mishkan (see Shemos ch. 26). What common thread binds all of these rules and practices?
In general, what do the Rishonim state about the prohibition of shaatnez? Rambam (Moreh Nevuchim III:36) explains that the idolatrous priests would use this combination of animal and vegetation (wool = sheep and linen = flax) to summon magical and demonic powers. Ramban (Vayikra 19:19) also keys into the mixture, but does not see it as idolatrous; rather, he views it as representing a lack of respect for the natural boundaries and categories created by G-d. It is an extension of the prohibition of crossbreeding animals or produce, and perhaps a warning in modern times against genetic engineering.
Zohar (III:86b) ties this mixing into the saga of Kayin and Hevel. Kayin, unfortunately, was a product of the “Other Side,” the serpent. His sacrifice was from vegetation – an earthy, non-spiritual base. While Hevel was a product of Adam and Chava’s spiritual side, his sacrifice was from the flock, the wandering, non-physical spiritual component of existence. The Zohar (ibid.) states that shaatnez is permitted by tzitzis because there is a wholeness in the mitzvah that allows the proper integration of the two sides, physical and spiritual. This hints at a broader idea of a future messianic perfection and elevation of the physical world so that it can join properly with the spiritual. Rabbeinu Bechaye (Vayikra, ibid.) extends this idea to the Beis HaMikdash and Mishkan – that at least in that area, there is already a harmonization of these two powers, allowing the mixture in the materials and priestly vestments.
But that state is not reserved only for the Temple or the messianic future. We also have a daily opportunity to wear our own priestly garments as a priestly people (Shemos 19:6) by wearing tzitzis. At the moment of fulfilling that mitzvah properly, we channel this state as well, where the spiritual and physical are in harmony.
(This is based on an extensive essay and ideas brought forth by Rav Yitzchok Levi, at Etzion.org.)
The Road to Torah Less Traveled
Daf 7
Our Gemara on amud aleph relates that Avimi traveled to Rav Chisda to get help with understanding a particular sugya. This is even more remarkable because Rav Chisda was Rav Avimi’s student. This leads the Gemara to ask, “Why didn’t Avimi summon his student instead of traveling to him?” The Gemara answers that traveling to him would make the endeavor more successful. Rashi explains by quoting the famous rabbinic adage, “If you work hard for it [for a spiritual or Torah goal], you will succeed.”
This speaks to the value of hard work and investment. Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz (Sichos Mussar, Ma’amar 50, p. 223) and Rav Aharon Kotler (Mishnas Aharon, Bechukosai) both note that the hard work is not even related to the study. Here, Rav Avimi’s toil was in the travel. This brings out the point that there is a special siyata d’Shmaya (Heavenly assistance) when one invests effort, even if the effort is not directly in the study.
Psychologically, we know this is true as well. When someone invests in any project, there is a sense of ownership and pride that creates a stronger bond. This is an important principle in chinuch as well, especially in our times where discipline is much less about punishment and more about motivation via “chains of love” (the famous words of the Chazon Ish, Y.D. 2:28). When discussing Torah or moral obligations with children, we should help them develop ownership over their observance or learning. How do we do that? With less preaching and more asking questions. For example, despite curriculum requirements, there should be a way for a class to collectively decide on a learning project or area of focus. Parents also should have discussions with their children collectively at the Shabbos table, or individually, about which mitzvos resonate with and speak to them. Instead of just directing and teaching about Jewish life, Torah, and mitzvos, we should ask questions that encourage reflection and self-agency in these observances.
The Sense of the Sacred in Modern Chinuch
Daf 8
Our Gemara on amud aleph discusses a scenario whereby a Shelamim sacrifice is brought in the Sanctuary, and is still considered procedurally kosher even though its proper place is the courtyard.
The Gemara implies that this is only post facto. However, it is a violation of some kind to have slaughtered the sacrifice in the Sanctuary. The Minchas Chinuch (184) suggests that this is considered a profane entry into the Sanctuary. It is prohibited to enter the Sanctuary unless it is for a purpose that is directly tied to sacrificial or ritual service. Even though this is a sacrifice, slaughter is still not considered a true sacrificial ritual, as even a non-Kohen can perform it. Therefore, to enter the Sanctuary in order to slaughter this sacrifice is still entering for a mundane purpose.
The Chinuch (ibid.) explains that the purpose of this prohibition is to maintain a sense of respect and awe toward the holy areas.
While on this subject of dignity and respect for holy places, I believe this is a critically important idea to teach young people today, especially in a time when authority and hierarchy are diluted. We live in times where people behave and dress in a more casual manner and do not necessarily relate deferentially toward authority. I am not going to cry over that spilled milk. However, there is a place where we can reverse that tide, and that is the shul and beis midrash.
Most young people think that there’s a problem with “talking during davening” and have no idea that there are particular rules of protocol in a shul or beis midrash that have nothing to do with prayer. Even when not being used for prayer, these holy places should be respected, and it is prohibited to engage in idle chatter or mundane activities (Shulchan Aruch 151:1). In earlier generations, rabbis became more lenient and allowed sleeping and eating in shuls due to relative poverty and lack of space (ibid.; Mishnah Berurah 5 and 8). In our time, this is one area where we can roll back and be more stringent. We have enough resources to fund separate banquet halls and community meeting places that we do not need to desacralize our shuls.
It is hard, in a positive sense, to teach someone how to pray. It is something that has to stem organically from an inner recognition and humility. There also is a generation of children whose relationship with shul was heavily damaged because of the Covid hysteria, and during critical developmental years were deprived of the socialization experience of prayer – that is, coming as a child and simply, via osmosis, absorbing the culture of prayer by watching elders and parents engaging. We have to recreate that sense of sanctity.
A fellow I used to know went through a dark time and found prayer to be futile and frustrating. At the same time, he was observant, so he made up his mind that even if he wouldn’t pray, he would come to minyan on time, not talk, and not leave early. He sat with those feelings for a while. Eventually, he recovered his ability – or maybe even, for the first time, found a way – to appreciate prayer. However, even at his worst moments, he allowed himself to experience the holiness and presence – even when he couldn’t engage in prayer, which happens to be, on its own, a separate mitzvah (Shulchan Aruch, ibid.).
Hissing “Ssshh!” and energetically making hand signals and grunting “Nu!” does not induce a sense of holiness. Sitting quietly and, if necessary, walking out of shul to talk or discipline demonstrates and models the emotion of awe and sanctity. If we do that, the performance of davening will eventually develop organically.