Shavuos 19
Our Gemara on amud aleph discusses the halachic concept of misasek. Misasek is when an act is committed without any intention and/or awareness that it is being done.
In certain circumstances, depending on the nature of the prohibition, there is no liability on the part of the person who commits the act. This is different from what we might call an accidental sin, such as forgetting a halacha and therefore unintentionally violating it, which is known as shogeg and actually can require repentance as there is a degree of negligence. Misasek is not even being aware that the violation is occurring, such as intending to pick up vegetables that were already detached from the ground, but instead grasping vegetables that are still attached. The person is completely unaware that he is violating Shabbos because he does not even know that he is cutting or harvesting. On the other hand, if he forgot that it was Shabbos or he forgot that harvesting was forbidden and grasped vegetables, this would be considered shogeg, and he would have some liability because he was aware of the act that he was committing.
The exemption of misasek does not apply when the act committed also brings about an experience of pleasure, because on some level there is still presence or awareness (Kerisos 19b).
This halachic concept also has metaphysical implications. We can ask ourselves: What is sin? Is it action, intention, or both? Rav Tzaddok (Tzidkas HaTzaddik 145) explains this in a deep way that instructs us regarding our attitude toward mitzvos in general, and why repentance works. He starts with a principle that actions and intention are parallel to the body and soul; neither can operate in this world without the other. It is true the soul can “live” in the spiritual world, but it cannot accomplish anything in this world without the body. So too, thoughts have great impact in the spiritual world but do not accomplish anything in this world without the body. Yet the opposite is also true. A body without a soul is a corpse. So too, an action in this world without intention is dead.
This is why misasek does not require penitence – because it is a disembodied act with no relevance. Rav Tzaddok takes this idea further to explain how repentance is not just forgiveness, but even a reversal or erasure of the sin. Since the sin only has life with accompanying intention, if a person deeply regrets his actions, then he has retroactively removed his intent. Once the intent disappears, the sin is a lifeless nothing with no import. (If he enjoyed the sin, and as we saw, enjoyment disrupts the dispensation of misasek, he may need to undergo some suffering to negate the pleasure.)
This idea of regret and the wish to have done something different is deep and powerful. Philosophically, the past really does not exist except in our memories. Most memories are flawed and inaccurate anyhow, but we live by the narrative that these memories have constructed. If you express to yourself, or to a spouse or family member, a deep wish to have done something different in the past, and even give details of what and how you would have reacted, behaved, etc., it’s not just a mere apology. Instead, you are crafting a new narrative that is just as real as what happened, assuming the person really believes you.
Sworn At Sinai: The Oath You Didn’t Know You Took
Shavuos 21
Our Gemara on amud aleph refers to the halachic principle of mushba v’omed me’Har Sinai. This means that certain oaths cannot be valid when made in regard to commandments, since one is already under oath that he took at Mount Sinai. The new oath is meaningless on top of a preexisting oath, and therefore is not valid.
What is this oath that was made at Mount Sinai? We might assume that it is referring to the covenant that the Jewish people made there. While not literally an oath, and certainly not one actually made by each inhabitant of every century, it is somehow considered binding on the entire people and its descendants.
The Akeidas Yitzchok (99) has difficulty with this idea. After all, there is no such thing as a parent passing an oath onto his children. What is the mechanism of obligation? And what makes this so-called oath binding? Akeidas Yitschok offers a parable:
Imagine a talented young man with an independent spirit and physical prowess who drew the ire of others because of his power, but also drew the attention of the king. The king realized that this young person’s energies could be directed to his service and so he offered the young man an opportunity to settle on his royal estate. The king would offer legitimacy and protection in exchange for the lad’s fealty and service tending the royal estate. This happy arrangement worked for many years and even generations, until one generation forgot the history of this arrangement and resented their servitude. They decided to leave the estate and find their own way in the world. They soon discovered that without the sanction and protection of the king, they were victims of persecution and assault from others who were jealous of their status. This led them to return and reaffirm their pact with the king.
This parable is Jewish history. When the Jewish people become restless, they question the covenant and want to operate without it. Yet the rigors of oppression remind the Jews that essentially, they must return to the estate and reaffirm their pact. The Akeidas Yitzchok explains that this is what it means when the Gemara states that the Jewish people reaffirmed the Mount Sinai covenant at the time of the Megillas Esther miracle (Shabbos 88a). The Jews reaffirmed their covenant as they realized, essentially, that there was no choice. They must stay connected to G-d because without His protection, there always seems to be some enemy lying in wait, ready to pounce upon any vulnerabilities.
The Akeidas Yitzchok sees this as a metaphorical obligation, as if it were an oath – not a literal oath per se, but a deep acceptance of the inevitability and the necessity of following the Torah, which is within the consciousness of each Jewish person. Therefore, no additional oath can be binding, as this preexisting recognition is as strong as an oath and nothing can be added upon it.
I will add that this idea can help us understand the following tradition from Niddah (30b):
And a fetus does not leave the womb until the angels administer an oath to it… And what is the oath that the angels administer to the fetus? ‘Be righteous and do not be wicked. And even if the entire world says to you: “You are righteous,” be in your own eyes like a wicked person. And know that the Holy One, Blessed be He, is pure, and His ministers are pure, and the soul that He gave you is pure. If you preserve it in a state of purity, all is well, but if you do not keep it pure, I, the angel, shall take it from you.’
How can a fetus make an oath? And even if it could, why would it be binding? However, if we understand the oath in a similar way to that described by the Akeidas Yitzchok, it is really about the inevitability of the consequences and responsibilities of life. The compelling need to keep this “oath” is not perforce an actual promise, but a part of the natural order, and failure to respect or acknowledge this will be at the person’s own peril.
