Avodah Zarah Daf 20
Our Gemara on amud leph rules that it is forbidden to praise an idolatrous gentile:
You should not show them chen (Devarim 7:2), which is understood as meaning: You should not give them favor (chen) by praising them.
Presumably, this prohibition against praising them applies even if they are truly deserving of praise – perhaps especially so – because it could lead to being influenced or enthralled by their religion and character.
Peri Tzaddik (Kedoshim 3) asks: If we are not allowed to praise idolaters, how did the Sages allow themselves to admire Esav’s kibbud av (the mitzvah of honoring parents) for Yitzchok? Bereishis Rabbah (63:16) reports:
Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel said: I attended my father all my days, and I did not attend him one one-hundredth of what Esav attended his father.
Peri Tzaddik attempts to resolve this by reframing Rabban Gamliel’s praise as, in fact, a subtle critique. Essentially, he describes Esav’s honor for his father as stemming from hedonic impulses. Esav focused on and lusted after the physical pleasures of this world, and therefore was genuinely filled with gratitude to his parents for bringing him into the world. According to this view, this is not particularly praiseworthy. The Jewish ideal of honoring parents is based on a recognition of the hierarchical chain of being: We honor our parents for the same reason we honor G-d – out of gratitude and obedience to the Creator.
However, this interpretation of Peri Tzaddik does not sit well with the plain meaning of Rabban Gamliel’s words, which appear to express genuine admiration for Esav’s behavior.
In search of a better answer, I reflected on the original directive. In the context of our Gemara, the kind of praise that seems to be forbidden focuses on aesthetic and material aspects – beautiful architecture or, as discussed later on the daf, a beautiful gentile woman. I wonder if the prohibition applies only when extolling a physical attribute, rather than a moral or spiritual virtue. If that is so, then it is understandable why Rabban Gamliel could praise Esav’s dedication to the mitzvah of honoring parents. Since this is not a physical feature, but rather a moral virtue, perhaps such praise is permitted.
However, despite the possibility of interpreting our Gemara that way, the Rambam clearly does not codify it as such. He states (Laws of Idolatry 10:4):
This prohibition also forbids speaking about [idolaters] in a praiseworthy manner. It is even forbidden to say, “Look how beautiful that idolater’s body is.” How much more so is it forbidden to praise their deeds or to hold their words dear, as [the verse states]: “Do not show them chen.” This phrase can also be interpreted as, “Do not look at them gracefully,” for doing so will cause you to draw close to them and learn from their wicked behavior.
Similarly, the Shulchan Aruch (YD 151:12) supports this formulation:
It is forbidden to speak in praise of [idolaters or idols], even to say, “How beautiful is this idolater in his form.” All the more so, it is forbidden to praise their deeds or to endear any of their words. However, if the intention of the praise is to give thanks to the Holy One, Blessed be He, for creating such a beautiful creature, it is permitted.”
Though the Shulchan Aruch agrees with the Rambam’s broad prohibition, his final clause might offer some room for an answer. It is permitted to note the beauty of an idolator if the focus of the comment is to praise G-d and not the person. Perhaps we might similarly argue that Rabban Gamliel’s primary intent was not to glorify Esav per se, but rather to emphasize the importance of the mitzvah of kibbud av and even stir up a certain righteous competitiveness within himself or others: If Esav could excel at it, how much more so must we? In that case, the focus is truly on the mitzvah and not Esav as an individual.
But this only pushes the question deeper: What do we make of the idea that Esav – who is cast as a villain – nonetheless shows great honor for his father, who happens to be a tzaddik and a holy man? Why did Esav have this soft spot? If he really admired and loved his father so much, why did he end up such a scoundrel? It seems that he was able to hide his true nature from Yitzchok to some degree. Was his outward display of kibbud av a way of soothing his guilt? Does Esav, in fact, experience guilt?
Perhaps the Peri Tzaddik’s characterization is not as forced as it originally appeared. How deep could Esav’s sense of kibbud av have truly been when he acted so openly against his father’s values and morals? That is, even if he performed the external actions with zeal and flair, the inner spiritual motivation may have been lacking, or even fundamentally selfish. In this way, his praiseworthy behavior might not have been as pure as it looked on the surface.
Nonetheless, this tension is precisely what makes the example of Esav so compelling. Even within those who are morally corrupt, there may still be traits or behaviors that are commendable – or at least serve as a lesson for us in contrast or by comparison.
Stay At Your Post
Daf 21
Our Gemara discusses two potential prohibitions associated with renting a house to a gentile in Eretz Yisrael:
Allowing gentiles a foothold in the Holy Land
Thwarting the obligation of mezuzah from the house
However, the Gemara concludes that the latter is not a concern because affixing a mezuzah is the obligation of the resident, not the house. Therefore, if no Jew lives in the home, it is not subject to the mitzvah of mezuzah. Renting a house to a gentile, then, is not depriving the house of a mitzvah it would otherwise be obligated in.
Nevertheless, there remains a restriction against removing the mezuzos when vacating the home – if the new tenant is Jewish. Bava Metzia (102a) rules:
If one rents out a house to another, the responsibility to prepare a mezuzah for it and affix it is upon the renter.
And when he leaves, he may not take it in his hand and leave with it; rather, he must leave it there.
But if he rented a house from a gentile, he may take it in his hand and leave with it.
And there was an incident in which a renter took his mezuzah in his hand and left with it, and he eventually buried his wife and two sons.
If the mezuzah is only an obligation upon the person, what is the nature of the violation when removing it upon moving out?
Tosafos (ibid.) says the removal makes the house vulnerable to demons, causing indirect harm to the next tenant. Even if the new renters immediately affix mezuzos, the damage may already be done. Like infestations, once something unwanted enters, it’s hard to remove. This is supported by the story of the renter who suffered tragic loss after removing the mezuzos – perhaps the demonic forces were awakened and backfired on him.
The She’iltos D’Rav Achai (126:3) offers a less mystical explanation: The act interrupts a mitzvah. However, this is difficult, as our Gemara teaches there is no ongoing mitzvah when no Jew resides there. The Ha’amek She’eilah clarifies that while it’s not literally an interruption, it is disrespectful to remove a mezuzah from an active post. Renting to a gentile, though, is actually respectful, since the mezuzah would no longer be operating in a mitzvah-fulfilling environment.
By way of metaphor: An officer might lose his post because the army base closes – but that’s different than being dishonorably discharged. If a mezuzah is removed for a gentile tenant, it will presumably be reused in another home. But if the next tenant is Jewish and it’s removed, it’s more like rejection: Why not let the mezuzah remain at its post?
The Nimukei Yosef (Bava Metzia 59a), quoting the Ritva, says the Shechina is present where a mezuzah is affixed. Removing it is like removing the Shechina. But again, why then is it permitted when renting to a gentile? The answer is the same: A Jewish home has a spiritual sensitivity that can be damaged by mezuzah removal. A gentile home does not retain that sensitivity.
This is similar to the idea that gentiles are not carriers of tumah (Nazir 62b). Spiritual sensitivity is required to be affected by such forces. A white garment shows stains more than a black one.
This dynamic of heightened sensitivity applies across physical, spiritual, and emotional domains. Adult survivors of childhood trauma are often more affected by stressors. Similarly, ayin hara (Pesachim 110b) is more activated when a person is more sensitized and aware, while ignoring it may offer some protection. The righteous suffer more and are judged more strictly (Bava Kama 50a); the greater a person, the greater his yetzer hara (Succah 52a). As noted in previous columns (Shavuos 48 and Avodah Zarah 16), when patterns repeat across multiple realms, it points to a deeper organizing principle – the will of G-d. Seeing these patterns helps us find meaning in suffering and connection in growth. Greater awareness brings greater vulnerability, but also deeper joy and connection.
Family Squabbles And Religion
Daf 22
Our Gemara on amud aleph distinguishes between renting a field to a gentile versus a Samaritan (Kuthite). It may be permitted to rent to a gentile, as he can be instructed not to work the field on Shabbos or Chol HaMoed, thus avoiding maras ayin. However, it’s prohibited to rent to a Samaritan because he does not accept the laws of Chol HaMoed and will disregard the instruction.
Why isn’t it sufficient to instruct the Samaritan not to work, as with the gentile? The Gemara answers: The gentile accepts Jewish religious expectations; the Samaritan thinks he knows better and disregards them.
This is a fascinating insight into human nature: Internal disputes and sibling rivalries are often harsher than external conflicts. A famous story about Rabbi Abraham Twerski illustrates this: A Jewish woman criticized him harshly for his religious appearance, blaming people “like him” for antisemitism. He calmly replied, “Lady, I’m Amish.” She immediately reversed course, expressing admiration for his commitment to tradition.
In yeshiva, I remember seeing the non-religious Jewish contractor walk into the beis midrash without a yarmulke, while his non-Jewish workers wore visitor skullcaps. It is often easier to show patience and respect to strangers than to family – even though family deserves it more.
This dynamic can also be understood through the Dunning-Kruger effect, a cognitive bias where people with limited competence overestimate their expertise. The less one knows, the more confident they are in their assessments. A layman may think he sings like Pavarotti, lacking the skill to recognize his mediocrity. In contrast, the experienced musician sees his flaws. The wise are humble; the ignorant are arrogant.
In our Gemara, the gentile lacks Torah knowledge and defers to his landlord. The Samaritan, with partial knowledge, believes he knows better – and thus disrespects the Jewish tradition. His small dose of Torah creates the illusion of expertise and makes him dismissive.
