Tag Archives: Tikkun

Rabbi Akiva and the Maccabees

On Chanukah we commemorate the victory of the Maccabees over the Seleucid Greek oppressors. The leader of the revolt was an elder kohen named Matityahu ben Yochanan. The second chapter of the Book of Maccabees describes how the revolt broke out: the Greek officers came to Modi’in requesting a sacrifice be made in honour of the wicked king. As Matityahu was the most illustrious elder in the city, he was approached specifically and told that he would be rewarded greatly if he brought the offering. Matityahu replied:

I and my sons and my kindred will keep to the covenant of our ancestors. Heaven forbid that we should forsake the law and the commandments! We will not obey the words of the king by departing from our religion in the slightest degree. (2:20-22)

Another Jew then came up to offer the sacrifices, and Matityahu “sprang forward and killed him upon the altar. At the same time, he also killed the messenger of the king who was forcing them to sacrifice, and he tore down the altar.” (v. 24-25) The Book of Maccabees compares Matityahu to Pinchas, who had struck down the wicked Zimri back in the generation of Moses.

We are then told that Matityahu “and his sons fled to the mountains, leaving behind in the city all their possessions.” (v. 28) They launched a full-scale revolt against the Seleucids, and “Then they were joined by a group of Hasidim, mighty warriors of Israel, all of them devoted to the law.” (v. 42) Originally, the warriors were not called “Maccabees”—that was only the nickname of Yehuda—but rather Hasidim, the “pious ones”. History’s first Hasidim were mighty warriors!

Matityahu himself passed away soon after and, following an impassioned final speech, left Yehuda in charge of the military, while placing Shimon in charge of making decisions (v. 65-66). Shimon would go on to be the only son to survive, and became the leader of Israel when peace was achieved. Though he did not take the title of “king”, he established the Hasmonean dynasty. (We previously explored his true identity here.)

In the Second Book of Maccabees (8:22-23), we learn how Yehuda divided up his forces:

He appointed his brothers also, Shimon and Yosef [Yochanan] and Yonatan, each to command a division, putting fifteen hundred men under each. Besides, he appointed Elazar to read aloud from the Holy Book, and gave the watchword, “God’s help!” Then, leading the first division himself, [Yehuda] joined battle against Nicanor.

‘Death of Eleazar’ by Gustav Doré

It’s amazing to read that Yehuda made sure to leave his brother Elazar with a group of people to learn Torah and pray. Later, Elazar himself would join the fray, and tragically died by being trampled under a war elephant, in an attempt to strike down a Greek general. Strangely, in the passage above one of the brothers is called “Yosef”, when we know that he is actually called “Yochanan”. Is this a simple error? Did Yochanan have two names or is, perhaps, the text alluding to a mystical secret about the spiritual nature of the five sons of Matityahu? I believe the latter is a very real possibility, for we find the story of Matityahu and his five sons seemingly repeated in a different group of people, some three hundred years later.

Rabbi Akiva’s Rebellion

In the 2nd century CE, the Seleucids were long gone and the oppressor of the Jewish people was the Roman Empire. The Jerusalem Temple had been destroyed back in 70 CE, and now in 132 CE, a warrior called Shimon bar Kochva rallied the Jews again to fight off the Romans. He succeeded at first, managed to expel the Romans, minted new coins, and even cleared the Temple Mount to get ready for the Third Temple. Rabbi Akiva was convinced Shimon bar Kochva was the real deal, and declared him the presumptive messiah. He gave full backing for the rebellion. As we know, it didn’t end well. Rabbi Akiva was executed by the Romans, and lost 24,000 students in the conflict (as explained here).

Before his death, Rabbi Akiva managed to find five new students: Rabbi Meir, Rabbi Yehuda bar Ilai, Rabbi Yose ben Halafta, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, and Rabbi Elazar ben Shammua. (That said, we have evidence that Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Shimon had been his students for some years prior already.) Rabbi Akiva did not have a chance to actually ordain them, so it was Rabbi Yehuda ben Bava that later did, and paid the ultimate price:

He went and sat between two great mountains, between two large cities; between the Sabbath boundaries of the cities of Usha and Shefaram, and there ordained five sages: Rabbi Meir, Rabbi Yehudah, Rabbi Shimon, Rabbi Yose, and Rabbi Elazar ben Shammua…

As soon as their enemies discovered them, Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava urged them: “My children, flee!” They said to him: “What will become of you, Rabbi?” He replied: “I will lie down before them like a stone which none can overturn.” It was said that the enemy did not stir from the spot until they had driven three hundred iron spears into his body, making it like a sieve… (Sanhedrin 14a)

Thanks to Rabbi Yehuda ben Bava’s martyrdom, the five new rabbis escaped with their lives. They went on to revive Judaism in the years following the Bar Kochva Revolt (Yevamot 62b). Of the five, one in particular stood out: Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. He was the one that revealed the mystical teachings of Judaism, and gave over what would become the Zohar. These revolutionary teachings saved Judaism and kept the flame burning through centuries of persecution and exile.

Reading the account of the Maccabees and the account of Rabbi Akiva’s students, one can’t but help see the striking parallels. Each revolt begins with a daring elder sage supporting an uprising against a powerful empire. Each describes Torah-observant, pious Jewish warriors hiding in caves and mountains and fighting guerrilla-style. In the case of the former, the Temple is purified and rededicated; in the case of the latter the Temple Mount is cleared and previous Roman plans to build an idolatrous shrine to Jupiter are halted. Five sons of Matityahu lead the war against the Greeks and save Judaism from extinction. Five students of Rabbi Akiva survive the war, lead the post-rebellion recovery, and save Judaism from extinction. The two sets of five have much in common, too:

Shimon the Maccabee goes on to set the foundations for a prosperous new Jewish kingdom, and for a proliferation of Torah learning. Shimon bar Yochai goes on to help produce the Mishnah, set the foundations for Kabbalah and the proliferation of the deepest dimensions of Torah. The initial leader of the Maccabees (and the greatest warrior overall) was Yehuda, while the initial leader of the students of Rabbi Akiva was Yehuda bar Ilai, who is actually the most-oft cited sage in the whole Mishnah! In both cases there is a Rabbi Elazar to “read aloud from the Holy Book” and call in God’s Name. Rabbi Akiva had a student named Yose, and it seems there is no such parallel among the Maccabees, until we remember that strange verse in II Maccabees cited above that calls Yochanan “Yosef”. I believe this is a cryptic allusion that Yochanan should be equated to Rabbi Akiva’s Yose (short for “Yosef”).

Coins depicting King Alexander I Balas

Finally, according to many opinions the illustrious Rabbi Meir actually had a different name, and meir was only a nickname because he was such a holy “illuminator”. The illustrious Yonatan was chosen from the brothers to serve as kohen gadol once the Temple was reclaimed, and held the post for some two decades as the conflict with the Greeks raged on. As kohen gadol, he henceforth stayed away from battle and focused on diplomacy. We know that Rabbi Meir, too, was not a big fan of Bar Kochva’s Revolt, and seems to have maintained good relations with the Romans. In fact, the Talmud tells us he once put on the garments of a Roman officer and went to free his sister-in-law from captivity (Avodah Zarah 18a). Meanwhile, we know that Yonatan was the first to ally with the Greeks, supporting up-and-comer Alexander Balas for the Seleucid throne, after which a grateful Balas invited Yonatan to his wedding and dressed him in royal Greek garments.

So, how do we make sense of the striking similarities between Matityahu and his five sons and Rabbi Akiva and his five students? Could it simply be history repeating itself? Or is it something more profound, perhaps a set of reincarnations for the purposes of tikkun? The major fault of the Maccabees was that, while they ensured the physical survival of the Jewish people, they did not do enough to preserve long-term spiritual success. Very quickly after them, their Hasmonean descendants became Hellenized, took on Greek names, and even persecuted rabbis. It is said that this is one reason why Hasmonean history—along with the Books of Maccabees—was suppressed by the Sages. (Chanukah is the only holiday without a Talmudic tractate devoted to it!)

With this in mind, one might suggest that God gave Matityahu and his five sons another chance, and the second time around they came to ensure the survival of the Jewish faith, the transmission of the Mishnah—most of which is relayed in the name of these six figures—as well as the transmission of major parts of Talmud, Midrash, and Kabbalah. In the second go, their military victory was not as successful, but the spiritual and moral victory was far greater, ensuring the long-term survival of the Jewish people.

Chag sameach!

Perspectives on Hell

‘Abraham and the Three Angels’ by James Tissot

This week’s parasha, Vayera, begins by telling us that following Abraham’s circumcision, he was “sitting at the entrance of the tent as the day was hot.” (Genesis 18:1) The Ba’al HaTurim (Rabbi Yakov ben Asher, 1269-1340) offers several interesting possibilities as to why the Torah had to mention this seemingly superfluous detail. One of the answers is that k’chom hayom, the heat of the day, is actually alluding to the heat of Hell. As is characteristic of the Ba’al HaTurim, he proves it mathematically, pointing out that the numerical value of k’chom hayom (כחם היום) is equivalent to “this is in Gehinnom” (זהו בגיהנם), when including the additional kollel.

The Ba’al haTurim also draws on a Talmudic teaching (Eruvin 19a) that Abraham sits at the “entrance” to Gehinnom and pulls out all who are circumcised from there! There is an exception to this, though, for being “circumcised” is more than just the one-time passive active of getting circumcised. A man also has to “uphold” his circumcision, meaning not to abuse that organ. Anyone who was promiscuous over the course of their life has their foreskin grow back in Gehinnom—and those people Abraham does not save!

That said, what exactly is Gehinnom? Is it the equivalent of “Hell”? Does Judaism have a concept of such an eternal place of torment? It is common to hear that Judaism does not have such a notion, and that the Tanakh does not describe such a place. Yet, later Jewish literature is actually quite rich with discussion of a hellish torment of some sort for certain wicked individuals in the afterlife. What is the truth? Continue reading →

The Real Meaning of Tikkun Olam

A get from the 19th-century (Credit: Israel Museum)

This week’s Torah portion, Ki Tetze, sets the record for most mitzvot in one parasha with a whopping 74 of them. One of these mitzvot is that of divorce: “When a man takes a woman and becomes her husband, and finds her displeasing because he finds something obnoxious about her, he shall write her a bill of divorce, hand it to her, and send her away from his house.” (Deuteronomy 24:1) The bill of divorce, called here a sefer kritut, would come to be more simply known as a get. In fact, there is an entire Talmudic tractate, Gittin, that explores all aspects of divorce and bills of divorce.

One of the questions discussed in this tractate is what does the Torah mean when it says the husband discovers something “obnoxious” about his wife? It is actually one of the more famous arguments between the ancient Jewish schools of Hillel and Shammai two thousand years ago. The more stringent Shammai believed that divorce was only permitted if the woman committed adultery or did something promiscuous (Gittin 9:10). Hillel believed divorce was allowed under any circumstances, for whatever reason the relationship was not working out. (Rabbi Akiva went even further and said a man could divorce even if he simply found another woman who is more attractive!)

More intriguingly, it is here in the tractate about divorce where we first come across the now-ubiquitous term tikkun olam, literally “repairing the world”. Today, many believe tikkun olam is a Hebrew term for social justice, but this is not accurate. What does “tikkun olam” actually mean? And why does it come from a tractate about, of all things, divorce?

Maintaining Order

In the fourth chapter of Gittin, the Mishnah and Talmud give many examples of things the Sages instituted mipnei tikkun ha’olam, “for the betterment of the world”. One of the first such things is that originally divorce documents needed to include essentially any name that the husband and wife went by. Rabban Gamliel, one of the last presidents of Israel before the Temple was destroyed in the 1st century CE, instituted that a get should list all names by which the husband and wife are commonly known. This was done mipnei tikkun ha’olam, and would ensure that the divorce is properly recognized in all places and by all people, even where the husband and wife might be known by other names.

Another example of tikkun olam is the prozbul, instituted by Rabban Gamliel’s grandfather, Hillel himself (Gittin 4:3). Recall that the Torah commands that all loans be paid back during Shemittah, the Sabbatical year, or otherwise be forgiven. A problem arose in that people were hesitant to lend money as the seventh year approached, since it was more likely that the borrowers would be unable to pay back the debt, putting the lender at an unfair loss. The reduction in available credit harmed the Judean economy. So, Hillel creatively came up with a prozbul that would sidestep the issue and allow the repayment of loans passed the Sabbatical year. The Talmud (Gittin 36b-37a) explains that “prozbul” came from a Greek term, meaning this decree was pro for both the bulei and the butei, the rich and the poor, benefitting all members of society.

We can now begin to understand the original meaning of the term “tikkun olam”. It was about adjusting Jewish law where necessary, within the framework of halakhah, for the betterment of society and to maintain peace and order. With time, tikkun olam took on a more mystical, cosmic meaning, too.

Rectifying the World

Ancient Jewish mystical texts described our world as one that is broken and in need of repair. God initially created a perfect world, but that world collapsed right at the beginning, in a process called shevirat hakelim, the “Shattering of the Vessels”. Adam and Eve had a chance to repair it, but only made the situation worse when they consumed the Forbidden Fruit. Since then, our mystical purpose is to reverse the damage and restore the wholesome primordial world, putting the pieces of those spiritual vessels back in place.

This process of repair and rectification, tikkun, is accomplished through the observance and fulfilment of mitzvot. This is the deeper purpose behind the Torah’s many laws—God gave them to us as tools to rectify the cosmos. Of all the mitzvot, the recitation of prayers and blessings in particular serve to elevate the world around us. All the small sparks of holiness, the nitzotzot, that came from the shattered vessels are trapped within the impure “husks”, kelipot, of the material world. The divine words of the prayers and blessings (in the original lashon hakodesh, the holy Hebrew tongue of Creation) are like spiritual formulas for freeing the sparks and restoring them to the Heavens. For instance, when one recites the boreh pri ha’etz blessing before consuming an apple, they unlock whatever sparks of holiness might be present inside. In this way, little by little, the entire cosmos is rectified.

The greatest proponent and expounder of this process was undoubtedly the Arizal (Rabbi Itzhak Luria, 1534-1572). It was he who put together the earlier Kabbalistic works into one complete mystical system, revealed only in the last two years of his short life in Tzfat, the “capital” of Jewish mysticism. The Arizal explained that this is the real reason why Jews were exiled to the farthest corners of the planet. On the surface level, it was a punishment and an exile, but God does not truly punish or exile. God is all-good, after all. The deeper reason for Jewish exile was so that Jews could reach every part of the planet and elevate all those lost sparks of holiness. Only when that process is complete will the Final Redemption be ushered in and the Messianic Age will officially begin.

Long before the Arizal, the Zohar already outlined the four aspects of tikkun. Recall that the Zohar is the central “textbook” of Kabbalah, first revealed to the public in the 13th century but originally dating back to the teachings of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai and his 2nd-century CE mystical circle. The Zohar (II, 215b) states that the first level of tikkun is rectification of the self. This is the process of personal development and self-refinement, the life-long journey of becoming a better, more Godly person. Each of us has many internal rectifications to achieve (both spiritual and physical).

Next is the tikkun of this lower physical world, primarily referring to that process of freeing the sparks trapped in the kelipot of the material around us. This is followed by the tikkun of the higher spiritual realms. For instance, reciting Kaddish for the departed serves to elevate their souls in the afterlife. Many of the mitzvot and rituals we perform similarly serve to affect great changes in the upper worlds. Finally, there is the tikkun of “God’s Name” which means a number of things, including bringing more Godliness down to Earth. Drawing more souls to recognize God, spreading Torah wisdom, and inspiring observance of mitzvot is a part of this process, too. The ultimate goal is, as the prophet Zechariah said, to bring about the day “When God will reign over the whole world; on that day God will be one and His name one.” (Zechariah 14:9)

These are the four aspects of genuine tikkun ha’olam: improving one’s self, fixing the spiritual fabric of the cosmos above and below, and infusing more Godliness into the world. So, how did some come to believe that tikkun olam is simply synonymous with “social justice”?

Tikkun as Social Justice

Real tikkun olam is clearly rooted in observance of Torah law and halakhah. With the rise of Reform Judaism in the 1800s, and their subsequent move away from halakhah, ancient ideas had to be rebranded. Tikkun olam was one of those ideas. Since Reform made halakhah essentially optional (at best), there was no way to root tikkun olam in the Law. Thus, rectifying the world was no longer a spiritual process requiring punctilious observance of mitzvot, prayers, and blessings, but rather a generic physical task of “making the world a better place”.

Now, there is certainly an element of “social justice” and making the world a better place within the larger umbrella of tikkun olam. It is true that God gave the Jewish people a mandate to improve the world, make it a more ethical and moral place, root out idolatry, spread monotheism, make life better for all, and be a “light unto the nations” (Isaiah 42:6). This is what the Jewish people were “chosen” for. Indeed, Jews have lived up to the challenge, and have been hugely instrumental (in disproportionate fashion) in advancing science and technology, medicine, civil law, democratic government, economics, arts, and yes, social justice, too. Some of the original “social justice warriors” of the past were Jews, including giants like Samuel Gompers and Louis Brandeis.

That said, tikkun olam must be rooted in the Torah. Commenting on the famous adage of Shimon haTzadik (in Pirkei Avot 1:2) that the world is established on “Torah, service, and acts of kindness”, the great codifier Rambam (Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, 1138-1204) writes that true tikkun olam requires all three: Torah study, service of God, and kindness to others. Therefore, if some idea or movement is obviously contradictory to what the Torah stands for, it cannot in any way be “tikkun olam”. Today, some misuse the “tikkun olam” label and think it includes embracing all kinds of philosophies that are completely at odds with God and His Torah, which openly and proudly transgress Torah law.

For instance, while we should certainly care about the living conditions of all human beings around the world, there is no tikkun in marching alongside people who support terrorists that murder innocent Israelis. While we should certainly reach out to all Jews—regardless of their background, identification, or orientation—to inspire them to come closer to God and be more Torah observant, there is no tikkun in waving a rainbow flag nor in supporting “drag” shows. Nor is there any tikkun olam in going against the Torah’s gender roles, or in dismantling the traditional family unit, or in denying basic biological facts. Tikkun olam should not be confused with “spreading love” to anyone and everyone, or to embrace all peoples and philosophies and lifestyles. Tikkun olam cannot come before Torah law—it is supposed to enhance Torah law, not transgress it. Which brings us right back to our first question:

Why is tikkun olam introduced, of all places, in a tractate devoted to exploring divorce? I believe the subtle message is that we shouldn’t ever lose sight of what tikkun olam is truly about and that, sometimes, tikkun olam is not about embrace, but about divorce. There are things that must be opposed, and there are things that must be fought, and there is a line that cannot be crossed. We should never forget the true meaning of tikkun olam, that it is a spiritual process first and foremost, about bringing more Godliness and morality into the world (not Godlessness and immorality), about understanding the deeper cosmic purpose of Jewish laws and rituals, and about actually fulfilling those laws in order to bring about the Final Redemption, when true social justice (and not a distorted social justice) will reign.

May we merit to see that day very soon.