https://pixabay.com/photos/sword-sky-knight-fantasy-medieval-5722144/
It’s safe to say that zealotry is on the rise, as nearly every day brings headlines of people taking the law into their own hands when faced with situations they see as dangerous or unjust. More than anything, politics seems to be a breeding ground for zealotry. Disagreements escalate quickly, with many just a short distance from the threat of violence. Despite our discomfort with zealotry, we can’t claim it has no place in the world. Reading the story of Pinchas every year forces us to confront the fact that there may be moments when violent action is not only necessary but religiously praiseworthy. As the Torah makes clear after Pinchas’ killing of Zimri and Kozbi, his actions save the people from God’s wrath and preserve the covenant at the very moment it appears to be coming apart.
Even so, rabbinic interpretation of the Pinchas narrative reveals the rabbis’ deep discomfort with Pinchas’ violence. According to the Talmud, six separate miracles occurred for Pinchas when he killed Zimri and Kozbi, implying his actions were exceptional and should not be seen as a model for others. Furthermore, the rabbis go to great lengths to limit the cases where zealotry would be allowed. Pinchas was permitted to take violent action, the Talmud explains, only as long as Zimri and Kozbi were engaged in the public sexual act. If he were to strike at them after they had separated, he would be considered a rodef, a dangerous pursuer, whom Zimri would be justified to kill in self-defense. Lastly, the rabbis explain that acts of zealotry cannot be authorized in advance. A rabbi is forbidden to answer when asked whether it may be permitted because “It is halacha, but one does not teach it.”
That said, some rabbinic voices see this last detail as intended not to limit zealotry but to prove its authenticity. The first Gerer Rebbe explains that “when a person responds in the moment without delay when seeing the sin, this is a sign that zealotry for God is in their hearts… but if they delay and go patiently to ask for a halachic ruling, this is a sign that zealotry for God’s honor does not burn in their hearts, rather they have some other motivation, and therefore the rabbi should not instruct them to do it.” In his eyes, zealotry is only legitimate when it is a spontaneous response of the righteous individual who sees evil and feels compelled to act against it. If they were to pause and seek rabbinic approbation first, this would indicate that their zealotry is not pure and may be driven by other considerations. If they know in their heart of hearts that what they witness is a transgression of the highest order, they must act on it immediately.
On the one hand, there is certainly something powerful about the Gerrer Rebbe’s words, for who doesn’t imagine themselves intervening heroically when great evil is being done? However, one of the lessons we inevitably learn as we get older is not to be so trusting of our immediate and spontaneous reactions to things. Strong emotions often mislead us, and an intense reaction to something we see or experience tends to reveal more about ourselves than it does about what provokes us.
The key to grasping the rabbis’ unique approach to zealotry revolves around the fact that one cannot receive a halalchic ruling to act as a zealot. Typically, the zealot sees themselves as not acting out of personal interest but rather for God. When faced with evil, they become an instrument of divine justice, doing whatever is necessary to ensure the safety and security of the Jewish people and preserve God’s honor. But the rabbis’ insistence that one cannot assertively rule on such questions throws a monkey wrench into the zealot’s fantasy. Since no one can give them permission for what they seek to do, they must act without the assurance that it is unquestionably “what God wants.”
The post-Talmudic halachic tradition emphasizes this point even further. Chelkat Mechokek notes that the Shulchan Aruch does not cite the law of the zealot despite earlier halachic codes having done so, and Ein Eliyahu, a later commentary, suggests that perhaps this was done to fulfill the Talmudic injunction that one does not answer halachic questions about zealotry. If the law of the zealot were to appear in the Shulchan Aruch, the major code of Jewish law, it would be as if it were instructing the reader to fulfill it. Ein Eliyahu even goes further and proposes another reason for its absence. Perhaps the law of the zealot was left out of Shulchan Aruch, he explains, because it is no longer valid today. After the destruction of the Temple, when there is no Sanhedrin, cases of capital punishment can no longer be tried by Jewish courts, and in such circumstances, the law of the zealot may lose all legitimacy.
If we take these explanations seriously, today’s zealot cannot be certain whether violence in the name of God is ever permitted. Perhaps the law no longer applies, and even if one were to find a rabbi who claims that it does, his ruling cannot be relied upon, for in transgressing the rabbinic prohibition of answering such questions, they invalidate themselves as a legitimate authority on the topic.
The result of all this is that those who act zealously on God’s behalf and step into God’s shoes, so to speak, are denied the satisfaction of seeing themselves as heroes. Instead, they must be open to the possibility that their actions are incorrect, perhaps even evil, and be willing to face judgment afterward for what they have done. The truth, of course, is that nearly all modern zealots are animated by a deep sense of self-righteous certainty, which only proves one thing: they are not true zealots, at least not in the Jewish sense. Rather than sanctifying God’s name, they end up only profaning it.
To read this post in Spanish, click here
Daf of the Day
