The Morality of the Lost Article

It was the very first piece of Talmud I ever studied.

I was in the forth grade, thus old enough to begin Talmud study, and the topic was the laws of returning lost articles. In a nutshell, the underlying logic of the law is that if the owner despairs from ever finding the lost object, the finder can keep it. The sweet words of the Chapter, “Elu Metsiot Shelo” - “these are the findings that he may keep”, ring in my ears to this day. 

Years later, when I had the opportunity to teach this very piece of Talmud, I ran into a problem. I seemed that most people in the class had a greater sense of morality then the Talmud. Everyone around the table was surprised to learn that the Talmud would allow the finder to keep the article just because the owner despaired; in fact, many of the people shared stories about how they themselves went to great lengths to return a lost article - even in cases where the Talmud would assume that the owner would despair.

The best I could do was to point out that the Talmud itself agrees that the finder can go 'beyond the letter of the law' and return the item although it legally belongs to the finder.

But somehow that did not feel satisfactory. Because isn't the purpose of the Torah law, unlike secular law which is utilitarian, to lead people to the moral choice? By saying that one can go 'beyond the letter of the law' and make the moral choice, are we not acknowledging that Torah law itself is not the ultimate morality?

The answer, I think, is this:  

By ruling that the article belongs to the finder (because the owner's despair is a form of 'abandonment', and ownership us premised on consciousness - but that is for it's own post), the Torah teaches an important principle about itself. The purpose of the Torah is not to guilt us into doing what is morally just by issuing a commandment, and declaring that anybody who does not live up to the highest level of morality is in violation of the Torah's precepts. Rather, the Torah chooses to enforce the basic standard of morality - namely justice. It then defines a higher degree of morality, but  states unequivocally that one can be a moral person by fulfilling the basic level of morality, thus allowing the person to arrive at the higher state of morality, if he so chooses to, by his own choice.

The Torah understands that the ultimate impact it can have, is to allow a person to make a moral choice on her own, and that to do so you must give her the space to choose. In other words, for any law to be the ultimate level of morality, it cannot be legislated. It can be taught, but the people must choose it on their own.  

Two Twenty Two

The letters that comprise the Hebrew word for first born - “Bichor“ - are “Bet”, ”Chaf”, and “Reish”. The numerical value of the three letters are 2, 20, and 200. What message do all those twos send to the child who is, in fact, number one - the first child in the family? 

When the first child is born he receives the undivided, complete, nonstop attention from his parents. He is the center of the household. Then the second child is born. This is a disaster for the first child. All of the sudden the first child feels cast out of the spotlight, while the second child occupies the place he himself once enjoyed. Inevitably he will resent his number 2. One need not look farther then the book of Genesis to discover the constant animosity between the first born and the later siblings.

This then is the message the Hebrew language sends to the first born. It tells the first born: “you were born first, you are the only child, you have a special connection to your parents; but with this privilege comes great responsibility. You must always care for number 2. You have this special time with your parents so you can help them take responsibility and look after your younger siblings. You maybe number one but your numerical value is 222 to remind you to look after the number 2”.

And that is why, initially, G-d chose the first born to be the “Kohanim” - the Priests who perform the service in the temple. After all the “Kohen” is essentially a first born – he has a unique relationship with G-d – as the first born has with his parents, yet the purpose of his “number one” status is to look out and help his fellow brethren, the figurative “number 2's”.

The problem was that many of the Biblical first born did not live up to the “222” message; and the first born Jews were, not only unable to protect their brethren from sin but they themselves participated in the sin of the golden calf.

So G-d decided that the “Kehunah” - the Priesthood - will transfer from the first born to the Aaron and his descendants   “Why Aaron?” you ask. Because Aaron was the quintessential embodiment of the “222” quality. He was an older brother who, not only was not jealous of the success of Moses – his younger brother - but, was happy that Moses ascended to greatness, as G-d tells Moses “Aaron will see you and he will rejoice in his heart”.

Before G-d gave the Torah to the Jewish people he said that each Jew is a member of “a kingdom of priests”. We are all empowered to follow the example of Aaron. We must understand that no matter the heights we reach, no matter how “number one” we feel we are, G-d blessed us with greatness so that we can share it with our fellow.

Yizkor

I was thinking about the reasons for saying Yizkor on YomTov but hadn't found anything truly satisfying.
There is an explanation that since on YomTov we gather our family it is an opportune time to remember our family members who are not with us anymore.
There is the also an explanation that since we pledge Tzedakah that is similar to a main theme of YomTov of helping the poor but it left me feeling unsatisfied.
Connected to that thought, I was thinking about what it says in Rambam, about someone who refuses to invite guests on YomTov, that he is not celebrating YomTov at his meal rather he is celebrating the gluttony of his stomach. That a main component of YomTov is helping out someone who is less fortunate than one is. Which led me to think about those who have passed that they are the ultimate unniyim since they can't do Mitzvos anymore! So how do we help them out? Through doing Mitzvos on their behalf and in their memory and when we live a Jewish life and they helped raise us and give us life to be who we are we are able to tally Mitzvos on their score sheet.

Never Ending Stories

I'm reading the "Making Of Chassidim" (Der Leinger Briv) again. Who knows how many times it's been? And I'm glued to it. Getting all sad that the story (stories!) just gets cut off!

Here's the question: How can there be story, that you've read numerous times and it still consumes you completely? Are there any other stories like that? That you can read again and again, know every detail and still be swept off your feet? Hey, there might be, but this just blew me away!