Makkos 21
Our Gemara on amud aleph discusses the prohibition of tearing or cutting skin out of grief. The verse states in Devarim (14:1) states: “You are children of your G-d. You shall not gash yourselves or shave the front of your heads because of the dead.”
Tosafos in Yevamos (13b, “Deamar”) asks: If so, how can it be that Rabbi Akiva hit himself until he bled over the death of Rabbi Eliezer (see Sanhedrin 68a)? Tosafos offers two answers: (1) Perhaps only tearing skin by cutting is forbidden, while here he was hitting himself out of grief without using a cutting action, even though he bled. (2) He was injuring himself over the loss of Torah, not specifically the death of Rabbi Eliezer, and the prohibition applies only to cutting as part of a mourning ritual, presumably an idolatrous custom that the Torah forbade.
Based on this, Shulchan Aruch (YD 180:5) codifies the law that it is forbidden to cut oneself from grief over a death or as an idolatrous ritual, but not for another loss. Despite this, many poskim hold that there is still a rabbinic prohibition against self-cutting for any reason (see Shach ibid. and Kitzur 169:2).
We see that cutting oneself out of overwhelming pain is a basic human response, not a new phenomenon. However, in different eras and cultures, mental illness manifests differently based on perceptions, beliefs, and ego defenses. While the cutting response seems somewhat instinctive, it may represent something different psychologically today than it did in another time. For example, in ancient times, a person might have considered himself possessed when overcome with overwhelming urges or intrusive thoughts. Today, a person might experience that as addiction, delusional thoughts, or obsessive thoughts, depending on their severity and behavioral process. The humanity of it has not changed – only the narrative and mythology we tell ourselves. Instead of being overcome by demons, we now speak of chemical imbalances.
In a modern psychological sense, people cut as a way to ground themselves. The physical pain or blood might serve as a distraction from greater psychic pain, prevent dissociation, or assuage guilt through self-flagellation. Dissociation arises as an ego defense to shield a person from overwhelmingly painful memories or feelings. While this is a mental health issue requiring treatment, it is noteworthy that it is part of an ancient human instinct and behavioral pattern.
This issue raises two somewhat contradictory points for consideration. First, it is often difficult for us to place ourselves within the ancient mindset, and even things that appear similar might not be. As inhabitants of the modern world, we can learn to empathize and imagine the psychological conditions under which a person might engage in cutting. This might resemble the ancient practice of cutting out of grief, or it might be something entirely different.
Second, our generation tends to over-pathologize broad variances in human behavior. A child who can’t sit still – who finds lessons boring, too complex, or too lengthy – is often medicated to cope with the curriculum. In another era, such a child would not be expected to sit behind a desk; he might have started an apprenticeship earlier. In my family’s lore, my grandfather was thrown out of cheder at age seven for throwing a desk at the melamed. Zeidy Avraham, who became a painter by trade, produced fine offspring, many of whom became academics. (I especially think of my father, who had a sixty-year career as a professor of education and served as headmaster and principal of several Jewish institutions.) I don’t think Zeidy Avraham would have appreciated being told he had ADD; he was obviously an independent, feisty spirit who knew how to take care of himself just fine.
That’s not to say that, practically, we shouldn’t give a child every tool needed to compete in an intellectually complex, demanding, and competitive society. But let’s be realistic: The child might not have any disease, and yet in a competitive school environment, a stimulant might help him concentrate or boost neurotransmitter activity. Why must we call this a disease? As one researcher famously said, “Just because Tylenol works for a headache doesn’t mean you’re suffering from a Tylenol imbalance in your brain.”
Likewise, with cutting, we need not attach deep stigma or pathology to all instances of this behavior. In certain vulnerable populations, inflicting pain through cutting or burning is a sign of extreme psychic distress and possibly a red flag for body image or personal boundary concerns. However, the cutting itself is a behavior, not the disease. If a person is in great distress, he shouldn’t be shamed for cutting – it’s an instinctive way to cope with pain. By reducing the pathology and stigma related to cutting, individuals in distress may be more forthcoming about why they do it, when they do it, and what lies behind it, enabling better, more informed treatment.
Lashes And Learning
Makkos 23
Our Gemara on amud aleph seeks to prove from a verse that the person who administers lashes decreed by beis din need not be a learned individual (unlike, perhaps, other agents of beis din activity).
The verse states: “Forty he shall flog him; he shall not exceed, lest he continue to beat him” (Devarim 25:3).
The Gemara explains: Granted, if even people lacking halachic knowledge are appointed, that is why it is necessary to warn them not to add lashes. But if only exceedingly knowledgeable people are appointed, does the Torah need to warn the attendant? (A learned person would already know to employ due restraint.) Apparently, even a person lacking knowledge can be appointed as an attendant.
The Gemara offers an aphorism: “One exhorts those who are diligent.” However, the Gemara says this is not a proof, as even the learned – arguably, especially the learned – benefit most from guidance. Torah Temimah (Devarim ibid.) explains that a learned agent might need more reinforcement to avoid overdoing the lashes because his zealotry might overtake him. Alternatively, a learned person is more receptive to learning even more. The more a person learns, the more he realizes he does not know. As Mark Twain quipped, “The older I get, the wiser my parents get.”
It’s a truism in human nature that the studious, talented, and motivated tend to benefit more from motivators and instruction than the disengaged. This is due to their increased receptivity to their work, making them appreciate correction and guidance, as it aligns with their intrinsic motivation. The instruction and exhortation resonate with the recipient’s values and goals.
Teachers and parents often mistake token rewards and incentives as cash payments for services rendered. If the reward is seen as compensation, it will only reinforce behavior as long as the compensation continues. However, if rewards are token and symbolic, they attract and reinforce the intrinsically motivated because these children internalize them as “thank yous” – recognition for their work. No one works for a thank-you or sees it as payment, but properly given recognition acts as a motivator by affirming existing choices and focus, strengthening them. A good token or prize is neither payment nor bribe – just a pat on the back.
Skin-Deep Or Soul-Deep? The Negaim Warning Shot
Shavuos 4
Our Gemara on amud aleph discusses the prohibition against cutting off of tzora’as (skin blemish that renders impurity, in Hebrew, nega or negaim, pl.). Not all skin afflictions are impure; the kohen must examine them and, according to certain criteria, decide if they are benign, require quarantine, or are immediately impure (see Vayikra 13). Tosafos (on our Gemara) discusses whether there is a prohibition on cutting off benign blemishes.
Without delving into the actual halacha, the symbolic meaning might hinge on whether a benign skin affliction is truly benign or a warning shot across the bow. Is G-d saying, “Hey, buddy, you’re getting close to lashon hara or other critical sins, but this time we’ll let you off with a warning?” Or do we say, “Close calls only count in hand grenades and horseshoes?” This reminds me of a story I heard in the name of the Steipler, zt”l. Someone almost hit by a car asked if he had to recite the gomel thanksgiving blessing, to which the Steipler responded no. When the person expressed surprise, as he was shaken by the close call, the Steipler quipped, “If your long underwear falls off the clothesline, do you bench gomel because you could have been wearing them when they fell?” The halachic point is that if nothing touched you, it doesn’t require formal thanksgiving, unlike if the car had nipped him. Still, the Steipler might agree that such a close call should inspire introspection, as Gemara Megillah (3a) says: Even a spontaneous feeling of dread indicates something unseen may be occurring in the spiritual world; all the more so if something dramatically frightens you, even if nothing happened.
Apropos of this, Sefer Daf al Daf quotes the Imrei Emes (based on a Zohar), who holds that benign negaim are a sign of passive forbidden speech – moments when we should have spoken up but kept quiet. Let us reflect: Perhaps we allowed someone to be bullied and did not speak up. Perhaps we grudgingly withheld a compliment or were too critical to see a good thing.
By now, Gottman’s famous 5:1 ratio of positive to negative interactions for relationship stability is well-researched, validated, and even broadly applied to parenting and corporate culture. As a reminder, here are ways to create positive interactions:
- Compliments: Offer genuine praise.
- Be attentive: Noticing is different from complimenting. Yosef noticed his fellow prisoners’ bad moods, leading to events that rescued him and his family (Bereishis 40:7). Imagine the attunement required – everyone is miserable in jail, yet Yosef noticed his peers were unusually unhappy.
- Express affection: Physically or emotionally, depending on the person’s love language.
- Apologize: When appropriate.
- Empathize: Don’t judge why someone feels a certain way. Imagine what would make you feel that way to empathize, even if their trigger doesn’t “make sense.” We all have irrational triggers.
Two additional ways require strong relational and social instincts. When done right, they’re fantastic, but if mistimed, they can cause friction:
- Use humor sparingly: At the right moment, with attunement, it can break tension and allow perspective. Poorly timed, it may feel minimizing. If someone says, “I’m so nervous about…,” a joke like, “Let’s prepare for the worst and plan for the end of the world,” can lighten the mood or seem mocking. A healthy relationship and good empathy are needed to gauge when and how.
- Be vulnerable: Framing difficult experiences as sad, lonely, or shame-inducing can open doors for collaboration on painful conflicts. If done incorrectly, however, it can feel narcissistic or guilting.
