PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS A DOUBLE HALAKHAH IN BRIEF (so I suppose it's more accurately referred to as a Halakhah In Short), because I will be spending next week in Erets Yisrael, joining a United Jewish Communities Solidarity mission. Along those lines, I thought I would take as a topic this week the question of how we react to times of trouble that affect the community, but not necessarily each of us individually.

First, I would note the gemara in Ta`anit 16a which says that during a communal fast-day we place ashes on the teva, the central table used by the community for reading the Torah. (By the way, I recently was shown a summary of a talk by mori-ve-rabi R. Lichtenstein in which he urged those who are physically able to participate in next week's fasts of Be-Ha-B, the consecutive Monday, Thursday, Monday fasts traditionally observed early in Heshvan. R. Lichtenstein viewed adopting that set of fasts for this year as an appropriate piece of a response to the current situation, along with sincere teshuvah, prayer, and continued (and renewed) dedication to Torah and mitsvot. Although he was speaking to the bohurim in his yeshiva, it is certainly advice worth contemplating-- particularly given the shortness of the day at the current season. To fast Be-Ha-B, one should ideally accept the fast verbally in the recitation of Minha the day before; in the case of BeHaB, however, since it is a well-established fast day, the verbal acceptance of the day before is not as necessary as for a personal fast day.)

The most interesting part of that gemara in Ta`anit, however, is the two prooftexts it adduces to support its claim about the teva. The gemara notes a verse in Yeshayahu, be-tsaratom lo tsar, in their distress He is distressed, and a verse in Tehillim that says imo anokhi be-tsara, I am with him in times of distress. The implication of the verses (and the practice of putting ashes on the teva) is that we have the right to assume that God Himself, kevayakhol (to the extent that we can make any sort of statements about God), joins in our time of distress.

R. Ovadia Yosef mentions the concept of be-tsaratam lo tsar in two other contexts. First, in the 7^th part of Yabi`a Omer, in the Orah Hayyim section, no. 13;2, he discusses the question of an individual who concludes the blessing of shema kolenu on a fast day by saying ha`oneh le-`amo yisra'el be-et tsara, the conclusion of anenu that the sheliah tsibbur would say. Ordinarily, of course, when individuals say anenu in their silent Amidah, they end the blessing with the usual shome`a tefillah, Who Hears our prayers. Ending the berakhah with a different conclusion would ordinarily be unacceptable, since we have altered the institution created by the Rabbis.

However, among other answers, R. Ovadia suggests that the ending is acceptable, since be-tsaratam lo tsar. That means that, since the Jewish people are observing a fast day for some time of trouble that they are experiencing, it is appropriate to refer to God not just as a generic shome`a tefillah, one who hears prayers, but as a respondent in a time of distress. In two separate legal contexts, then, we assume that our earthly troubles impact on the Divine in some way.

Yet R. Ovadia uses the phrase in a fully human context as well, one that I find personally instructive outside of the specific circumstances in which it was mentioned. In that same volume of Yabi`a Omer (which I may now remember as "the be-tsaratam lo tsar volume"), in the Hoshen Mishpat section, 10;8, R. Ovadia cites a report about Maharashdam, a sixteenth century rabbi in Turkey. According to the report, Maharashdam used to give a poll-tax to the community. The interesting part of that practice is that talmidei hakhamim, including communal rabbis by virtue of their position (without staking any claim to scholarship), are exempt from certain taxes, particularly those that are seen as contributing to the protection of the community. Since such figures have their merits to protect them, they need not pay for the community's protection

One of the explanations given for Maharashdam's decision to nonetheless contribute to the communal tax is be-tsaratam lo tsar. Applying that verse to a human being's actions implicitly assumes that God's participation in our suffering sets an example for all of us to follow. Maharashdam did not have to join the community's efforts to protect themselves because of his own needs, but he did have to join them as part of his continuing need to follow God's example (imitatio Dei, the mitsvah to be as similar to God's actions as we can).

Moving away from citations of be-tsaratam, other sources also put halakhic teeth on the obligation to feel and experience a community's distress even when it might not apply to you. Most prominently in the context of famine, but also in times of distress generally, the halakhah assumes an obligation on the individual to join. In terms of famine specifically, the Shulhan Arukh rules that an ordinary person-- one who has already fulfilled his obligation to bear children, and so on-- may not conduct ordinary marital relations during a time of famine. One who ignores a communal trouble, assuming that he and his will be protected from the danger, is seen as not meriting joining that community when they will experience salvation.

Aside from a person's conduct during times of famine, Orhot Tsadikim includes one who does not share the community's distress in an interesting context. In the Laws of Teshuvah, Rambam devoted some time to sins where the sin itself blocks the path to repentance. One of those practices was one who was poresh min hatsibbur, separates himself from the community, because such a personwould not be with the community when they repented, and would therefore never end up repenting.

When Orhot Tsadikim reproduces Rambam's list, it adds one who is not mitsta`er with the community, who does not feel its distress. Apparently, then, the need for communal identification (at least as far as repentance is concerned) is not limited to not separating oneself, but includes the need to feel their troubles as well.

The Midrash records an interesting debate about who will give the testimony against such a person at the time of judgement, offering three answers-- the two angels who accompany a person, the soul, or the bodily organs themselves. The answers differ as to the level of identification we are required to have with a community in distress. If it is the angels who report on a person's disinterest in the communal suffering, it becomes a wrong like any other, reported to God by forces external to who we are. The view that it is the soul or the organs who are the informants, however, indicates an even deeper, more personal involvement. This is not a requirement like any other, to be fulfilled through specific actions, and judged by the same mechanisms as the ordinary coin of our religious lives. Rather, it is a requirement that strikes to the heart of our being-- that we feel involved in the communal distress regardless of our personal situation.

WITH THE HOPE THAT WE SOON ARE FREE OF ALL DISTRESS, SO THAT THESE HALAKHOT NO LONGER NEED REVIEW.