Tanach

Ramban’s comment on the phrase “kedoshim tehiyu” understandably became a beloved text among teachers and students of rabbinic literature. He eloquently points out that halachic obligations do not exhaust the nature of religious life. Ramban coins the term “a scoundrel with Torah permission” to describe a problematic personality who meets all technical religious requirements while failing to lead a truly spiritual life. Such a person might devour kosher meat and imbibe kosher wine all day long, violating no prohibitions but certainly not leading a holy life. “Kedoshim tehiyu” challenges us to lead holy lives above and beyond our halachic observance.

Fulfilling this commandment may prove difficult. Halacha provides concrete rules but what guides our ability to move beyond the law? For example, how does Ramban know that overindulgence of meat and wine contradicts holiness? Some contend that we have no recourse but to rely on our ethical intuitions for these extra duties. Ramban provides three options for extracting extra legal values from internal Jewish resources.

Biblical verses that do not command still teach Jewish values. When Mishlei (23:20) says: “Be not among wine drinkers, among gluttonous eaters of meat,” an attitude to excessive consumption emerges clearly even if the verse does not technically constitute a commandment. Secondly, we can extrapolate values from certain mitzvot. If the Torah calls the Nazir holy for, among other things, abstaining from wine, then such abstention reflects a positive endeavor.

Finally, biblical narratives provide instruction. Noah drinks too much and has an embarrassing episode with his son. Lot becomes inebriated and commits incest. These stories warn of the dangers of alcoholism tough they do not generate specific halachic requirements. In the same way, the story of Yaakov’s children, though not halachic in nature, illustrates the dangers of a parent favoring one of his children.

Narrative proves perfect for this important goal. Ideals not encapsulated in concrete laws often address issues dependent upon the complexity of individual personalities and the varieties of specific situations. Regarding such areas, halacha cannot offer precise criteria for how to function. Narrative, on the other hand, enables the teaching of ideas and values in a fashion that provides leeway for the nuance and complexity of the human condition. It is no accident that The Torah includes both law and narrative just as gemara incorporates but halacha and aggada.

The distinguishing mark of Judaism may be its detailed system of law. At the same time, Torah relates to far more than we find in a code of law; it also calls for holiness achieved both within the law and beyond the law.

 
Source Sheet

…He who spurns gifts will live long.(Proverbs 15:27)

As often is the case the pithier Hebrew version of these words is more poetic, more absolute, and, as a result, more jarring. שונא מתנת יחיה or in transliteration, SoNAy (Lit. He who hates) MaTaNoT (gifts) YiCHYe (will live). Note that the verse doesn’t allow for indifference, but one must despise the idea of being on the receiving end for gifts.

Now that is a counter cultural concept if I ever heard one.

The Talmud teaches what an exemplar of this value does to demonstrate that he is one who spurns gifts.

“A Sage who does not hesitate to declare his own food treif (not kosher) when he is not absolutely certain” (Chullin 44b)
The commentaries learn that if he is not so invested in his own sustenance than surely he is not one to care about gifts. The reason being that he is more concerned about keeping the law than he is material losses. Certainly, such a person will never consider a material gift to “matter”.

What does it mean to “spurn gifts”? It is to see them as tempting distractions that deter one from life’s purpose, a nefarious subterfuge to make one subject to the sycophantic designs of those who wish to curry favor. The same Talmudic passage recounts that:

Rabbi Elazar was sent a gift from the House of the Nasi (the Jewish leadership) and he wouldn’t accept it. He was invited to join them, and he refused to go. When they inquired as to why he would not join, he answered, “He who spurns gifts shall live.”

Rabbi Zera, however, refused gifts when they were sent to him, but accepted the authorities invitation to join them. “They are showing affection to me,” he said.
Here, R. Zera marks a distinction between invitations and gifts. R. Elazar does not. R. Elazar, considering the source sees gifts and invitations as one and the same, but R. Zera is willing to accept the flattery of the officials as long as it does not line his pockets.

Here’s another thing to consider. In times of economic hardship, do gifts not create yet another possibility for humiliation and embarrassment for those who have fallen on hard times and can no longer participate? What would happen if special occasions were celebrated without gifts, but with the reciprocal sharing of bounty, or where ones honored presence was considered gift enough?

I remember when my daughter celebrated a birthday in a Chabad kindergarten. We were invited to attend while the class was served a cake in celebration of her sixth year. She had a wreath of flowers on her head, and the gift from her teacher was that she was given the honor of serving her students her birthday cake.

And truly an honor it was.