Unpacking the Iggerot: Vicarious Punishment
Read more about “Unpacking the Iggerot” and see the archive of all past columns.
Unpacking the Iggerot: Vicarious Punishment: Value or Platitude? / Iggerot Moshe, Y.D., vol. 5, #26
Summarizing the Iggerot
Most are familiar with the practice of reciting Kaddish for the passing of one’s parents. Yet, there is a lesser known obligation that also applies during the first year of mourning. The Talmud instructs that:
One honors [his father] in his life and honors him in his death. How [does he honor him] in his life? One who goes to a place on the command of his father should not say: Send me [on my journey] on my own behalf, [or:] Hurry up on my own behalf, [or:] Allow me to take leave of this business on my own behalf. Rather, [he should say] all [of the above in the following manner: Act in this manner on Father’s behalf (as a mark of respect for his father). How does he honor him in his death? If he says a matter he heard from his father’s mouth, he should not say: So said Father. Rather, he should say: So said Father, my teacher, may I be an atonement for his resting [soul]. And this halakha applies within twelve months [of his death]. From this time onward he says: May his memory be for a blessing, for the life of the World-to-Come (Kiddushin 31b).
Maharik (#24), as codified by the Rema (Y.D. 240:9), applies this principle to one’s mother as well. According to the literal translation of the phrase hareini kapparat mishkavo, “may I be an atonement for his resting [soul],” one is not simply honoring his parents but is assuming at least some of the consequences for their sins.
However, R. Feinstein bucks the standard interpretation of this practice and argues that when a child invokes the words hareini kapparat mishkavo it should not be understood to convey anything of metaphysical significance. First, he argues that theologically an individual does not possess the power to stipulate that they will accept another person’s sins. One needs to assume responsibility for his or her own actions and cannot outsource that to another party.
Secondly, even if we grant that such a metaphysical mechanism does indeed exist, it is unreasonable that the Sages would mandate such an obligation. Even according to R. Yehuda who posits that a child must service his parents from his personal finances, this is still a positive mitzva which is capped at one-fifth of the individual’s income. To wholesale accept a parent’s punishment upon oneself would exceed the limits of the mitzva of honoring that parent.
Returning to his first objection, R. Feinstein’s main contention appears to be that hareini kapparat mishkavo does not make sense from a fundamental theological standpoint. To back up this assertion, he cites Reish Lakish, who declared that “I am the atonement for Rabbi Hiyya and his sons” (Sukka 20a). Rashi (s.v. hareini kapparat) comments that Reish Lakish is merely using a lashon kavod, an expression of respect. R. Feinstein infers that Rashi relegates hareini kapparat mishkavam to a simple gesture without any supernatural ramifications. After all, he continues, why would men of such great stature and piety require Reish Lakish to step in and assume the consequences of their likely limited transgressions?
This is made even clearer by a Mishna in which R. Yishmael says “Children of Israel, I am your atonement” (Negaim 2:1). It is almost preposterous to assume that R. Yishmael was actually volunteering to bear the sins of the entire nation. Indeed, R. Feinstein cites Rambam’s interpretation of the Mishna which states that “this is an idiom that is normal to express out of profound affection.” R. Yishmael was not making a metaphysical stipulation but simply a statement of his affinity for the Jewish people.
R. Feinstein concludes by noting that even the instances in the Talmud which indicate that the death of the righteous expiates the sins of the generation, it was still not the case that the Sages were actively petitioning God to take them sooner so that they may serve as national sin offerings.
Connecting the Iggerot
In Iggerot Moshe, R. Feinstein employed two arguments against the conventional interpretation of hareini kapparat mishkavo: that it was theologically unviable and that it was halakhically unnecessary. In Mesorat Moshe (vol. 1, p. 300), he is recorded to have made a third contention on the basis of psychology and ethics: “And, moreover, who says that the father would want his son to suffer in his stead?!”
One could imagine a bitter-sweet scenario in which the child pleads with God to assume his parents’ sins while the parents beseech God to not accede to their child’s noble wishes. This is generally where the halakhists insert the important caveat ein lanu eisek ba-nistarot, at a certain point these mystical matters become completely speculative.
Challenges to the Iggerot
While Rashi’s position (quoted from Sukka) served as a support for R. Feinstein’s theory, Rashi elsewhre suggests quite the opposite. In Kiddushin (31b, s.v Hareini Kapparat Mishkavo), he explains that the declaration of hareini kapparat mishkavo means “All of the evil that was meant to come upon his [the father’s] soul [should instead] come upon me [the son].”
R. Shmuel Wosner (Responsa Shevet ha-Levi, vol. 10, #158) posits that latter comment of Rashi should be viewed as the primary interpretation and explanation of the former Rashi. It is not negating the theological significance of hareini kapparat mishkavo, but rather adds that the repeated invocation of the phrase serves as an expression of honor. God does not require a consistent reminder of the child’s stipulation. Nonetheless, the constant public expression of hareini kapparat mishkavo in conjunction with invoking the parents’ names serves to honor their memory in the presence of society.
Another voice of opposition was R. Betzalel Stern (Responsa be-Tzeil ha-Hokhma, vol. 6, #19), who contends that R. Feinstein’s gutting of the phrase hareini kapparat mishkavo of its supernatural significance shines a negative light on Sages of the Talmud. A recurring theme in Rabbinic literature (e.g., Midrash cited by Rashi on Genesis 37:4 and Rabbeinu Yona’s Iggeret ha-Teshuvah, # 21) is that one should endeavor to achieve consistency between his mouth and heart. To utter the hareini kapparat mishkavo but not actually mean it would mean that the Sages mandated religious disingenuousness!
Rather, R. Stern suggests that R. Feinstein is correct—but not for the reason he offers. As R. Feinstein contends, the child does not suffer on account of the sins of his parents. But that is not because hareini kapparat mishkavo is insincere lip-service. The child does indeed accept his parents sins, but in return for this extraordinary act of honoring his parents, God rewards the child with Divine protection, thereby offsetting and negating the consequences of those parental sins, as promised by the Torah, “that you may long endure, and that you may fare well” (Deut. 5:16).
(While a creative solution, the glaring issue with R. Stern’s construct is that people who now read his responsum will find it challenging to sincerely invoke the words hareini kapparat mishkavo, since they only do so with the expectation for there to be no negative ramifications.)
R. Moshe Shternbuch (Responsa Teshuvot ve-Hanhagot, vol. 2, #447) takes a completely different direction to address this matter. He cites the Tosafot Ri ha-Zaken who circumscribes the requirement to mention hareini kapparat mishkavo only for instances in which one is relating a Torah teaching heard from one’s parents. Out of concern that the idea may have been conveyed inaccurately, the child is mandated to add hareini kapparat mishkavo, that any error should not be attributed to his parents but rather to his own misunderstanding of what he had learned from them. While, perhaps, this framework does not fit as neatly with the literal translation of hareini kapparat mishkavo, it does explain the contextualization of the Gemara, “[If] he says a matter he heard from his [father’s] mouth….” R. Shternbuch’s approach, of course, has the further advantage of circumventing the quagmire of vicarious punishment all together.
Reflecting on the Iggerot
We noted that the disagreement between R. Feinstein and the opposition of R. Wosner, R. Stern, et al., hinged upon an apparent contradiction in Rashi. His comments on Kiddushin indicate that hareini kapparat mishkavo has supernatural significance, while in Sukka he reduces it to a mere demonstration of respect.
I am confident that I am not the first to suggest that the two statements of Rashi are not incongruent, but reflect a deliberate decision. There is a related topic of whether someone other than a child can effectively, from a metaphysical standpoint, grant merit to the deceased through the recitation of Kaddish. The primary proof-text which suggests this limitation is the Talmud which relates that “a son can confer merit upon his father; a father cannot confer merit upon his son” (Sanhedrin 104a). In Kiddushin Rashi interprets hareini kapparat mishkavo literally, since the case there is regarding a child invoking it for the benefit of his parents. The instance in Sukka, on the other hand, is limited to an expression of respect since it involved one rabbi, Reish Lakish, saying it for other rabbis, Rabbi Hiyya and his sons. (Though, even within this framework, R. Shernbuch understands that while a child can confer additional merit, he is not capable of actually expiating his parents’ sins.)
Returning to the opposition to Iggerot Moshe, R. Wosner is inclined to adopt the supernatural understanding of hareini kapparat mishkavo since it would otherwise be difficult to overlook the various statements in Rabbinic literature that explicitly discuss vicarious punishments, such as that of the Messiah himself (see Sanhedrin 98a). The explicit verses in Isaiah of the “Suffering Servant” is an unavoidable case in point.
It is possible to conjecture that R. Feinstein’s aversion to accepting hareini kapparat mishkavo as vicarious punishment could stem from its association as the hallmark of Christianity, the crucifixion of Jesus. Indeed, one who has been acquainted with Christian missionary work would be well aware that the reframing of Isaiah 53 as a reference to Jesus is an all-time favorite. Ramban elaborated on this passage in great detail in his repudiation of Pablo Christiani at their infamous Disputation.
In our earlier column, “Responses to Repentance,” we noted how R. Feinstein took great pains to distinguish the Jewish conception of confession of being between God and man from the Christian notion that it takes place between a parishioner and a member of the clergy. While a need to distinguish Judaism from other religions is understandable, there is room for nuance in how we understand concepts of vicarious punishment within Jewish tradition. Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz writes:
The religion of values and beliefs is an endowing religion—a means of satisfying man’s spiritual needs and of assuaging his mental conflicts. Its end is man, and God offers his services to man. A person committed to such a religion is a redeemed man. A religion of Mitzvoth is a demanding religion. It imposes obligations and tasks and makes of man an instrument for the realization of an end which transcends man. The satisfactions it offers are those deriving from the performance of one’s duty. The religious practitioner serves his God lishmah—because He is worthy of worship. The two types of religiosity may be found within all religions, but religions differ from one another in the extent to which one type predominates. A religiosity of the first type is characteristic of Christianity. Its symbol, the cross, represents the sacrifice God brought about for the benefit of mankind. In contrast, the highest symbol of the Jewish faith is the stance of Abraham on Mount Moriah, where all human values were annulled and overridden by fear and love of God. The cross represents submission to human nature. The Aqedah (the near-sacrifice of Isaac) is man’s absolute mastery over his own nature (Judaism, Human Values, and the Jewish State, 14).
There can be little doubt that R. Feinstein was unaware of Prof. Leibowitz’s essay. In principle, however, he may very well have agreed with this formulation. On a superficial level, Judaism and Christianity share a similar veneer. They both recognize the Divine origin of the Torah, as the latter emerged from the former. But Christianity was less an offspring of Judaism than a repudiation of its core principles. Perhaps it is this stark, fundamental difference between the two religions that motivated R. Feinstein to adamantly demarcate them to a significant degree on this matter. We can only speculate on whether this may have been one of the behind-the-scenes considerations that motivated his unique re-reading of hareini kapparat mishkavo.
Endnote: For further reading see Pesakim u-Teshuvot (Y.D. 240:4) and the associated footnotes (in particular, fn. #306). See also Taz (Y.D. 240:12) who addresses why many have the custom to recite Kaddish for only eleven months for a parent, while the imperative to append hareini kapparat mishkavo is for the complete twelve months. I have written further about the question of non-children reciting Kaddish in an essay, “When Kaddish Becomes Currency: Mapping Out the Mechanics of Merit“ (The Lehrhaus, 2023).
Moshe Kurtz serves as the Assistant Rabbi of Agudath Sholom in Stamford, CT, is the author of Challenging Assumptions, and hosts the Shu”T First, Ask Questions Later.
Prepare ahead for the next column (August 29): May a Kohen Become a Doctor? Iggerot Moshe, Y.D., vol. 3, #155