the right and the good
on going above and beyond
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A lot of times, when non-Jews (well, OK, especially a certain strain of Christian, for Gospel Reasons) talk about Jews. they talk about us in relation to Jewish law, halakha.
Those "legalistic" Jews, one might hear– implying that they're (we're) bogged down in details, they (we) don't notice anything but the minutiae of requirements, and are clueless about the big picture, what really matters.
This characterization sits in contrast, naturally, to those who focus on the "spirit of the Law;"– never mind that there may be different understandings entirely between the two religious communities about what a particular mitzvah might be about in the first place.
Nevertheless. A lot of the time, when non-Jews of various stripes (and, for that matter, Jews who've never observed Jewish law) think about halakha, they picture something of a cage, a trap, I think.
Or somebody being so anxious about checking the vein of each particular leaf that they forget to see the forest.
Well. I used to describe halakha as something of a portable monastery– a form of divine service that keeps my attention focused on what really matters and away from my ego. A form of spiritual practice. (Maimonides teaches that it ultimately doesn’t matter if we find reasons for the mitzvot or not. The reason for mitzvot are mitzvot.)
And why this is of note is not just because it's a framework that tells you how many handbreadths high to make your sukkah wall or what to do if your dairy spoon falls into your meatballs; or that it's an ever-evolving system with which there are a myriad of ways to engage. Or the fact that there are also laws about things like, how to give someone appropriate rebuke. How to repent when you've screwed up. The obligation to pay workers a living wage.
But rather, Deuteronomy teaches, we're commanded to
"Do what is right and good in the sight of God..." (Deuteronomy 6:18)
I mean... yes? Obviously?
This is the part where the Jewish legal tradition doesn't think it's cute to just leave ambiguous verses like this up to every individual predatory megapreacher to interpret however seems most appealing.
("It is right and good in the sight of God that you pay your alms directly to the Mercedes dealership, account number...")
🤨
Let's look to our favorite French vintner-slash-11th c.-commentator, Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, aka RaShI, for a clue about how we've made sense of this:
This refers to... acting beyond the strict demands of the law.
Going beyond the letter of the law. Lifnim mishurat ha-din, we call it, לִפְנִים מִשּׁוּרַת הַדִּין.
As Nahmanides, Rabbi Moses ben Nachman (RaMbaN), the 12th c. Spanish Kabbalist, explains, this is a great blanket concept in a constantly changing world:
Now this is a great principle, for it is impossible to mention in the Torah all aspects of a person's conduct with their neighbors and friends, and all their various transactions, and the ordinances or all societies and countries. But after God mentioned many of them- such as "You shall not slander;" (Leviticus 19:16) "Do not seek vengeance or hold on to anger;" (19:18) "Do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor;" (19:16) "Do not insult the deaf;" (19:14) "You shall show deference before an elder;" (19:32) and the like, God then went back and said generally that one should do the good and the right in everything, until through this a person reaches [the level of] 'going beyond the letter of the law.'
Got it? The Torah lays out the basic ideas around interpersonal behavior– and, notably, the examples given here aren't about keeping kosher or being punctilious about the details of prayer, but rather how we care for one another and create a just and loving society.
And then, the Torah throws us this extra verse as a catch-all, lest we think that it's fine to stick with the bare minimum, and not have to do anything more than that. Especially knowing that contexts will, inevitably, change in various "societies and countries" over time.
The 16th c. Kabbalist Moses Cordovero asserts that going the extra mile is a form of Imitatio Dei:
The Holy One, blessed be God, acts... beyond the [letter] of the law. God does not take the law (judgement) to its [full] force, even in the way of straightness.... (Tomer Devorah 1:25)
Right? [The anthropomorphized character of] God could be a lot meaner than God is, and God would be entirely justified. (Have you seen us? Especially lately? But, like, ever? We really do deserve whatever judgement would come our way as a species.) But, Cordovero argues, God holds back, giving compassion and mercy wayyy beyond the strict letter of the law.
For, as we see in this lovely Talmudic midrash:
The Talmud asks: What does God pray? To whom does God pray? Rav Zutra bar Tovia said that Rav said: God says: May it be My will that My mercy will overcome My anger towards the people of Israel for their transgressions, and may My mercy prevail over My other attributes through which the people Israel is punished, and may I conduct myself toward My children, Israel, with the attribute of mercy, and may I enter before them beyond the letter of the law. (Talmud Brachot 7a)
We pray that God's merciful, and God, like a parent standing in the hallway trying to count slowly backwards down from ten and to not start screaming about how I already asked you three times to start your homework, prays to Godself to let God's [non-anthropomorphic] attribute of mercy overcome God's anger. What an image.
And here's a story of what the tension around "going beyond the letter of the law" looks like in action:
Some porters [negligently] broke a barrel of wine belonging to Rabbah son of Rav Huna. Thereupon he seized their garments; so they went and complained to Rav. 'Return them their garments,' he ordered. 'Is that the law?' they inquired. 'Even so,' he rejoined: 'That you may walk in the way of good men.' Their garments having been returned, they observed. 'We are poor men, have worked all day, and are in need: are we to get nothing?' 'Go and pay them,' he ordered. 'Is that the law?' he asked. 'Even so,' was his reply: 'and keep the path of the righteous.' (Talmud Bava Metzia 83a)
Rabbah ben Rav Huna's porters messed up.
Did Rabbah technically have the right to take their clothes as a way of claiming what was owed to him? Sure. Technically.
But, come on, says his teacher. That's not good enough. You know these guys can't spare this. You know that you're a rich guy whining over lost wine and they're literally workers trying to make ends meet. That's not menschkeit. That's not how we operate, here.
Beyond the letter of the law: They made a mistake. Don't just relinquish your claim, even, by not taking their stuff. Pay them their wages, son.
Let go of what you're entitled to, and look to what will bring a more whole world into being.
And this idea that a person who only did what the law demands– and neglected to engage with factors like compassion, empathy, context, the humanity of the person in front of them–was so great a sin that it brought about, according to the Rabbis, the destruction of Jerusalem:
Rabbi Yoḥanan says: Jerusalem was destroyed only for the fact that they adjudicated cases on the basis of Torah law in the city. The [Talmud] asks: Rather, what else should they have done? Should they rather have adjudicated cases on the basis of arbitrary decisions? Rather, say: That they established their rulings on the basis of Torah law and did not go beyond the letter of the law. (Talmud Bava Metzia 30b)
Doing the bare minimum– just what was expected, and not trying to get to the heart of the thing, to justice, to wholeness– destroyed worlds.
It always does.
Now, more than ever, we need to take seriously the mandate to go beyond the bare minimum.
We know that the first rule of resisting authoritarianism is:
Do not obey in advance.
We know that.
But nonetheless, there are going to be a lot of people acting from fear now, and in the weeks and months to come.
Some people will start acting even more from self-interest than they already have, if that's even possible.
Some people will find that their trauma's been triggered, and suddenly (functional) freeze or fawn are going to be driving their particular trains.
Some people will just be straight-up terrified, and easily bullied into submission, out of their own desire for self-protection or because of their concern for, say, family members or the like.
Some people will, well, "just follow orders" because it's easier than making any other choice.
We must, friends, we must prepare to go beyond the letter of the law in every way.
Of course this means things like resisting unjust orders, refusing to cooperate when that is simply the right thing to do– get enough people together and every drop of rain becomes a tornado, a gale force.
But more than that.
It means that we must bring compassion and empathy where there is none.
That we must be the ones to fill in the larger sociocultural context, even if nobody else has.
It means that the humanity of every single person must continue to be regarded as, treated as sacrosanct.
These are the principles that must inform our choices.
Not what is expected of us. Not what everyone else is doing. Not what seems to be the vibe, or safe, or easy. Not our desire to scroll on by. Not our feelings of entitlement and what we believe we may be owed.
We must be the ones who go beyond the letter of the law.
Who stretch ourselves beyond it, past it, into the place where mercy lives.
We must hold on to what is good, and what is right. In the eyes of God, and in our own eyes.
We can see every detail on every leaf, even as we also look up and remember the sky, the forest, the whole habitat that we're working to save.
We must.
Whole worlds are at stake, once again.
They depend on us.
🌱
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