TWO MISHNAYOT, THREE CLAUSES

The Mishnayot read, in summary:

1.. R. Eliezer b. Yehuda of Bartota says: Give Him of His, for you and yours are His, and so, too, with David haMelekh (and a pasuq to prove it).

2.. R. Shimon says that if one was walking along the road learning, and stopped to admire bushes or trees by the road, ma`aleh `alav ha katuv ke-ilu mithayev be-nafsho, Scripture accounts it as if that person had engendered capital liability.

3.. R. Dostai b. Yanai in the name of R. Meir said, anyone who forgets their Torah knowledge engenders capital liability, as the verse says "Only be careful of yourself and guard your soul exceedingly lest you forget the matters your eyes witnessed." Does that mean that even if it was impossible for him to remember? That’s why the verse says "and lest they be removed from your heart," teaching that we do not engender liability until one sits and removes Torah knowledge from his heart.

GIVING HIM OF HIS—AN INDICATION OF INVOLVEMENT IN THE WORLD

Maharal wants to connect the first clause to the previous Mishnah about how groups of people studying Torah merit a visitation of the Shekhinah. That Mishnah might lead to the erroneous conclusion that God is otherwise not involved in the world. To combat that impression, this Mishnah mentions His deep connection to, indeed ownership of, everything in the world. As a second possibility (Maharal prefers the first), God’s connection to groups of people studying Torah might suggest (has ve--shalom) that God needs people in some way; this Mishnah comes to forestall that conclusion.

Since Maharal prefers the first, however, we can work with that option, that the Mishnah comes to stress God’s connection to the world, denying that there is a general siluq, leaving of the Shekhinah except for where people’s actions produce a visitation of the Divine Presence. That notion relates in Maharal’s mind to the discussion in Massekhet Berakhot about the need to make blessings on food before we eat them. According to the gemara, food before it has been blessed belongs to God, so much so that if we eat without the proper blessing, the gemara refers to it (somewhat metaphorically, we hope) as me`ilah, gaining benefit from sanctified objects. Once we make a blessing, however, the food becomes permissible.

Maharal questions how that works—what in the blessing renders the food permissible? One obvious answer, that God needs our blessings, and gives us food in return for performing that service, cannot be true, since it incorrectly ascribes need to God. Instead, Maharal suggests that the gemara means that objects’ connection to God prevents us using those objects, since we sever that connection. The state of being "barukh," however, implies sharing/bestowing on others, so that when we mention the word in connection to God, we introduce the notion that He will bestow these materials on us as well, and then it becomes available for human consumption.

DOES OUR SAYING IT MAKE IT SO?

It’s not clear to me what Maharal means by this—if part of being baruikh is bestowing those riches on others, why should we need to say it to make it so? Shouldn’t it then be that all objects are available for use without our doing anything? Possibly, Maharal is thinking of a major and minor element of our view of objects. When we first see an apple, we should recognize God’s intimate connection with that apple (la-Shem haAretz u-Melo’ah—the Earth is the Lord’s and all its abundance). An object so connected to an ultimate being should ordinarily be prohibited for our use. By mentioning the state of blessedness that also accurately describes God, however, we bring another part of the puzzle into play, one that allows us to share in His bounty.

[I would add that that gemara can just as easily be read as a lesson for man, rather than anything having to do with God; Maharal’s reading it in the way he does suggests that he sees a more cosmic reality to blessings on food, a concept worth pursuing in its own right.]

MAINTAINING A HUMAN CONNECTION TO GOD

Objects are by their very essence connected to God, but for humans create that connection by activating their intellects in a way that connects to Him, namely studying Torah. Maharal explains that in studying Torah, we remove all he`eder, all possibility of death and decay from ourselves, because we are directly connected to the Active Intellect. It is in that light that Maharal reads the stories in the gemara that say that one cannot die while studying Torah. He sees the stories as literal, and the reason behind them is that death comes as a result of the decay of some part of the body. While studying Torah, however, decay becomes impossible, and so does death.

Because of that quality of Torah, perisha, leaving Torah, becomes especially problematic in Maharal’s view, as shown by the person walking along the road. In noticing the beauties of nature, that person is leaving Torah study. Maharal notes that even though the opportunity for perisha came to the person without any effort, meaning that the person didn’t try to leave Torah study, he nevertheless incurs the liability.

DOES ANY LEAVING OF TORAH STUDY INCUR THE SAME LIABILITY?

Maharal recognizes that we cannot demand that all people study Torah all the time, so that not every non-study act can be construed as perisha, a criminal leaving of Torah study. If one stops studying momentarily, therefore, Maharal can accept that; why, then, does the traveler incur the full liability for a moment’s appreciation of the wonders of God’s world? To understand Maharal’s answer, recall his claim that while we are involved in Torah study, we are freed from all he`eder, loss due to decay or physical breakdown. While traveling, Maharal notes, there are many dangers on the road, so that it is a time when connection to God through our intellects would be especially essential for self-preservation. In such a context, any cessation of Torah study would already be a negative act. [To put this in modern terms, Maharal seems to think that one who was traveling on an airplane would have to study the whole time, in order to protect oneself from the various accidents that can occur.].

FORGETTING OR NEGLECTING TO REVIEW?

In Mishnah 8, the Mishnah seems to start by assuming that all forgetting is problematic, but ends by requiring an act of removal before one incurs the liability indicated. Maharal notes a middle ground, where one does not actively remove Torah knowledge from one’s memory, but simply neglects to review so that the information is lost. In his view, that case also incurs liability, because the willful disregard for review constitutes an act of removal. What the Mishnah only meant to free from liability, he says, was the case where one’s knowledge simply outstripped one’s memory—what the Mishnah calls taqefah `alav Mishnato, his knowledge overwhelmed him. Anything else, however, Maharal believes qualifies as having removed them.

I find this concept interesting, because it raises the notion that neglecting to maintain a certain status can be considered by halakhah an active rejection of it, or an act of removal. Inherent in knowledge, Maharal seems to be saying, is the need to review to keep it sharp. If one neglects that responsibility without justification, it is the same as actively removing that knowledge, which I find to be an interesting idea in many realms, not only in Torah.