Divine Command and Euthyphro dilemma

Background

What makes something moral? What is the nature of morality?

There are many answers given by philosophers. They range from answers by moral realists (different variations of "morality is out there") to moral subjectivists (different versions of "morality is each person's personal taste"). There are a few other brands and some groups in between (e.g., cultural relativists who assert that the morals are societies' norms, and in that sense they are objective and "out there", but, they can differ from society to society and in that sense they are subjective), but those are the major divisions of views.

Divine Command and Euthyphro dilemma

Then there is a view that morality is equivalent to Divine Command (DC). That morality = Will of G-d. It can be classified as either objective or subjective (I prefer the former logically). There are a number of "external" objections to the DC, such as "how do we know that G-d exists" which I will not address here (see this, for instance).

I have read about an "internal" objection called Euthyphro dilemma, named after a character in Plato's play, which can be summed up as:

Is what is morally good commanded by G-d because it is morally good, or is it morally good because it is commanded by G-d?

Possible answers

Well, let's look at the options:

1. That which is morally good is commanded by G-d because it is morally good.

This is a problematic answer for a number of reasons:

a) It doesn't really give an answer about the nature of morality. G-d wants that which is morally good because it is good, but why is it good and what makes it moral? We are back to square one. If this were the essence of DC, then DC could not be a valid moral theory; it would be just a confirmation that G-d cares about morality.

b) This answer contradicts the very definition of morality. DC cannot logically tell us we should do something that we know is moral because it is commanded by G-d. Morality by definition is "that which ought to be done". So "because it is commanded by G-d" is superfluous as the impetus for doing morality. If we already know what is moral, we don't need to be told that we need to do it because X . We already know we need to do it.

(I.e., this argument is the flip-side of the previous one.)

c) This definition implies that there is something binding on G-d, which is problematic for a number of theological reasons (which I won't discuss in detail here) such as: primacy of G-d, omnipresence of G-d (not just physical, but logical), and omnipotence of G-d (ditto). I.e., G-d must precede all concepts, cannot be dependent on any concepts, and must be "found" in all concepts (the last point is controversial according to some schools of thought, but suffice it to say that I wouldn't eat their shechita).

So, what's the other option?

2. It is morally good because it is commanded by G-d

Let us define very clearly what might be meant by this statement. One possibility is that to find out what is good, one needs to ask G-d (or see what G-d told others, if it's applicable to one too).

I don't think this definition is logically problematic, but it is empirically problematic. I.e., if we look at Jewish tradition, we find that there are indications that humans (and Jews in particular) should know already what is moral, even without having been told by G-d. For instance, there is a statement by one of the meforshim that someone who has to pay his wife a kesuba doesn't only need to depend on what it says in Torah. He must know by himself that he has to pay the kesuba because he made a promise.

There is a statement that even if mishpotim were not given, one would be able to learn them oneself.

There is a sense, from learning various Jewish texts, that rabbis already have a sense of justice and morality independently of Torah. In fact, oftentimes, Torah is tested against those concepts: one asks, how can Torah prescribe X, or how can G-d do Y, and then people answer, revealing that in fact X and Y do not contradict our concepts of justice and morality. Why don't we merely say: "Don't asks stupid questions. Whatever G-d decided must be just by definition." (Similarly to someone who might say: "He who made oil burn will also make vinegar burn". I.e., don't ask how G-d can violate laws of nature: He created them!) It is assumed not only that Torah and Hashem must behave according to the concepts of morality (which is another issue, to be discussed below), but also that those concepts are known to us already.

Finally, it seems that Torah does not have a very detailed discussion of morality like it does, say, of laws of tefillin. Certainly there are moral statements in Torah and certain prescriptions pertaining to morality (such as laws of visiting the sick, loshon ho'rah, business dealings, etc.), but the general discussion of morality seems to be lacking. (Maybe I am wrong.)

(There are concerns brought by philosophers that usually rely on intuitionist moral conservatism: i.e., taking our moral intuitions seriously. The concern is usually voiced as: "If G-d told you to torture someone, would you do it? Would that make it moral?"

I don't think this is a valid argument because it presupposes the truth of moral intuitionism. The argument assumes that we know what is moral from our intuitions, and then finds a possible contradiction between that morality and DC-produced morality. But that basically amounts to saying: "I think DC is wrong because I think we know what is moral intuitively." I would classify this as an external critique of DC, not an internal one, and I am not completely sure that the intuitionist approach could defeat DC on these grounds.

In fact, it could probably be defeated on its own grounds: if we have two intuitions, one telling us directly that X is wrong and another telling us that we know that G-d told us X is right, we should probably trust the second intuition and assume the first one erroneous. If the first intuition is strong, we can double-check the second one multiple times to make sure that that is indeed what G-d said and there is no room for mistake, but once we are assured of that, we should probably go ahead and rely on the intuition telling us that X is right.

This is no different in principle from observing by eyes that a lake is shallow, but some independent measurement telling us that the lake is indeed very deep. If that happens, we should probably double-check the measurement, but, as my boss says, the data are what they are.

Which is not to say that intuitionism is useless. Keep reading.)

The Verdict

What does this mean? Well, I think it means that while we might identify the commandments that G-d gave us directly as moral imperatives, we must have an independent way of identifying the "regular" (mishpotim-like) moral truths.

So, actually I think one might say that intuition is actually a good source of morality. I have been exploring this idea recently and have found myself growing more fond of it. (I have discussed it here and here.)

But does this mean that DC has failed? I think that there can be an intermediate solution: We can identify morality as G-d's will, but say that it is not discoverable (only) directly as G-d's will. To quote myself:

We might say that our intuitive feeling of goodness is one of the good's principia cognoscendi (its giluim): the qualities by which it can be recognized (the other being the fact that G-d told us that he wants it to be done). On the other hand, the fact that good is G-d's purpose for the reality is good's principium essendi (its atzmus): the description of what it is. 

One can still identify good or bad through his intuition, not only through Halacha; I am just explaining what it is that he is identifying. (Likewise a physicist might explain that when I feel cold, I am sensing indirectly the average kinetic energy of molecules around me.)

This also solves the problem of whether G-d can order us to do something which we will intuitively feel as wrong. One might say that no. My wife recently gave me the following argument of why Halacha cannot contradict morality:


Both Halacha and morality are prescriptive systems (they tell us what we ought to do). Both come from G-d (because everything comes from G-d). Presumably, G-d cannot at the same time want us to do X (according to Halacha) and not want us to do X (according to morality). Therefore, Halacha can never violate morality.

(Importantly, I don't think one could argue that everything comes from G-d, but not everything is allowed by Halacha or morality. Our animalistic urges, although they come from G-d, are not binding on us. But morality is, by definition. So is Halacha.)

So, what happens if G-d tells one to sacrifice our child? Well, that's like asking: if Earth's magnetic North and South shift places, where will the needle of a compass point? Well, obviously to the new location of the North, the former South pole. Now replace the compass with intuition and North with good, and you get the analogue.

This is assuming that one's intuition picks up good automatically (sort of like compass points to North automatically). It could be that G-d set up our intuitions to work a certain way (or even that they developed biologically in a certain way — although that would amount to the same) which is more rigid. After all, our sensory perception is rather rigid: this is why we get optical illusions. But we have a way of dealing with illusions, as mentioned above: just compare them to observations from other, more reliable, sources.

So, it is possible that we might feel intuitively wrong to do X but at the same time know objectively that G-d commanded X. Some sources say that this is how Abraham felt at the time he was commanded to kill Yitzchok. He felt intuitively that this was wrong, but he also knew intuitively that G-d told him to do so. So, he figured that the second intuition makes more sense to follow.

(In our times, the situation regarding child sacrifice is actually reversed. If you have a strong intuitive feeling that G-d is telling you to kill your children, check yourself in to a mental health facility. This is because we know that G-d doesn't want us to kill children and will never command us to do so. Therefore, whatever you feel like "G-d's will" is probably just an illusion or psychosis. Assuming one has not lost all his logical capacity, he can figure this out on his own by reminding himself that he is not a prophet.

On the other hand, this problem may be philosophically unsolvable. If I accidentally take a strong hallucinogenic drug and think my wife is a bear attacking me, I will have to defend myself. How am I to know better? (Remember that illusions don't just come as perceptions; they come with intuitive feeling of reality to them.) It seems there is nothing to be done in this case except to lock me up (hopefully temporarily, until the drug wears off). But it also seems I cannot be blamed for my actions.)


In any event, I think the above answers the Euthyphro dilemma to some extent.

Simple proof that G-d exists

(what is the purpose of this structure?)

In which I prove from evidence that G-d exists and outline my immature ethical theory...


First, let's define G-d for the purpose of this proof as a conscious, willful, purposeful creator of all existence. (I am not saying that that's all that G-d is; I am saying that this is one of His roles/behaviors.) Furthermore, let's assume that all creation is constant, i.e., that G-d is a continuous creator (I will show below why that's important).

I am not completely sure this proof is correct, but I am writing it out just in case.

The outline of the proof is as following:

1. Without G-d, objective morals cannot exist.
2. But morals do exist, per our observation, and they are necessarily objective.
3. Therefore, G-d must exist.

By the way, the part of the proof that most people (including campus Chabad rabbis) oftentimes miss is number 2. Without that part, one can just answer to number 1: "ein hachi nami" ("So what? I agree with you...") and move on without having to accept number 3.


Now the proof itself:

1. Without G-d, objective morals cannot exist.

Evidence for this statement can be presented in multiple forms. For one of them, you can watch this debate video (assuming you agree with the second speaker and not the first):




But here is my own idea of why you cannot have objective morality "simply 'cause": it doesn't make sense.

Ought statements are prescriptive. They prescribe that something should be done for some purpose. For instance, imagine that someone asks you where you should stick needles into a human body. Well, if his purpose is to torture the person, then you might give one kind of answer; if his purpose is to do acupuncture  then you may give another answer (assuming you're an expert at both). But saying that morality is a description of what you must do, "just 'cause", without any particular goal (it's just the right thing to do, but for no actual reason) is nonsensical. It's not saying anything.

One might say that the purpose of moral ought statements is to do good. One ought to do those things that are good and ought not to do things that are bad.

My problem with this definition is that it's circular. We do not have a good definition of what good and bad are outside of prescription. Good and bad are descriptions of certain things that we ought to either gravitate to or stay away from. That is how we define good and bad subjectively anyway. We say that in our opinion (according to our tastes) a movie is good in the sense that it would be "oughtful" to go see it, for whatever purpose (to enjoy oneself, to derive some lesson from it, etc.) — but we see that the purpose must be included in the definition of "good" (movie or anything else); otherwise, it makes no sense to use that concept (as above with the needles).

Well, this is subjective good (a Quentin Tarantino movie may be good for me, for the purpose of enjoyment, but not for my wife who hates violent movies). On the other hand when we say that morals are objective, we mean that objects and events independent of our mind have quality of goodness (or badness) to them. But, as I hope I have shown, the concepts of goodness and badness must include a purpose to them!

But how can there be an absolute, "objective" purpose to the world out there? I walk in a forest and see a beehive. My purpose for it is to eat the honey to satisfy my hunger. The bees' purpose is to keep the honey to feed their larvae. Maybe somebody else's purpose is to take the honey and sell it on the market. How can there be an "ultimate" or absolute purpose, independent of any agents, built-in into the fabric of reality of the beehive? Clearly there cannot be, unless there is one agent who imbues all reality with a purpose: that who created and continues to create the beehive, consciously, willfully, and with a certain goal in mind (so to speak). I.e., G-d (per our definition above).

2. Morals do exist, and they are necessarily objective.

I am not going to provide a full proof for this statement here. Instead, I want to direct my reader to an essay by a philosopher Michael Huemer: "Moral Objectivism" (not to be confused with Ayn Rand's philosophy under the same name). I also encourage you to look at some of his other essays (and an excerpt from one of his books) in the Ethics and Metaethics section of his website.

Dr. Huemer basically argues in favor of the position that things can be good and bad in and of themselves, just like they can be red or green (or two or three in number) in and of themselves, independent of the observer. Please refer to the linked essay for the detailed analysis.

Note that Dr. Huemer is not arguing that objective goodness or badness of things is independent of any source (such as G-d); he is arguing that from our experience of dealing with goodness and badness and intuiting those qualities about events and objects, we must conclude that they are objective and not merely "figments" of our minds (like our tastes or emotions are). Hitler was evil in and of himself, independent of anybody perceiving him as such and not in definition of the targets of his evil acts. I.e., that Hitler killed a lot of Jews was certainly bad for them, but we also think that the fact that he caused all that harm was an evil event in itself, not just from his victims' point of view (and not just because we fear that he or someone else might do the same to us, chv"sh).

(Otherwise, it would be nonsensical to argue that murder is wrong: after all, if it's only wrong subjectively, from the point of view of the victim, then the victim is no longer there! So, once the victim is dead, the murder is no longer wrong, as there is nobody anymore to whom it could be wrong. But a murder is by definition murder only after the victim has been killed.

The best one could say then is that it's wrong because it caused suffering to the victim's family, but that is not what we mean when we say that the act of murder is wrong independently of whatever side effects it caused. I.e., yes, murder is wrong because it causes suffering to the living, but first and foremost it is wrong because it eliminates life — even of a completely useless person who has no relatives or friends. Likewise, we must distinguish between wrongness of murder and that of threat of murder.)

Again, see the essay for more details. He addresses possible objections like: "Well, maybe we are just being empathetic to the victims and that results in a psychological feeling of 'evil' in our mind."

3. But if all the events and objects can be objectively good and evil (shown in 2), but cannot be understood or defined as such without subscribing to them some purpose by an absolute purpose-giver (shown in 1), there must be such an absolute purpose-giver: namely, a continuous, willfull, conscious, and purposeful Creator of all reality. (The Creator must be continuously creating all the reality for us to say that it has a constant purpose.)

Quod erat demonstrandum.


One might point out that the above does not explain why we ought to carry out G-d's purpose for creation. I.e., why G-d's purpose is binding on us. (A wrong answer in my opinion is to say that we must do so out of duty to G-d or because the world is His property. Such answers presuppose that duty or respect for property are moral concepts worthy of consideration, but we are trying to derive objective morality from G-d's purpose for the world, not vice versa.)

My answer is that the above simply defines "objective good" as G-d's purpose for the world and explains why it must be so. It doesn't motivate one to actually do objective good.

First of all, it seems that it's better to have some definition of objective good than no definition at all, or to say that it is just a quality that we perceive in the world. We could say that about "red color": there is no way to explain what it is besides saying that it's just something we perceive as true — aye, that's not the case because now we know that color corresponds tp a wavelength of visible light, but we might have said that before we knew the nature of color (i.e., I sense this thing called color, and there is nothing else I can say about it, just that there is a modality of my consciousness caused by a phenomenon called color out there in the world). But we can't possibly say that about good because, as I explained, goodness is by definition prescriptive: it is that to which we sense a need to gravitate to.

Second, we might say that our intuitive feeling of goodness is one the good's principia cognoscendi (its giluim): the qualities by which it can be recognized (the other being the fact that G-d told us that he wants it to be done). On the other hand, the fact that good is G-d's purpose for the reality is good's principium essendi (its atzmus): the description of what it is. One can still identify good or bad through his intuition, not only through Halacha; I am just explaining what it is that he is identifying. (Likewise a physicist might explain that when I feel cold, I am sensing indirectly the average kinetic energy of molecules around me.)

Third, one could give a number of subjective selfish or aesthetic answers (one wants to be one with G-d; one wants to deserve Heavenly rewards; one simply wants that G-d's purpose be done out of love to G-d). In that case, objective morality derives from one particular case of subjective desires. I am fine with that in this particular case.

Relationship with the world

You live and learn. At any rate, you live.

— Douglas Adams

One thing that changes (or is supposed to change) in one’s life when one takes seriously the concept of ein od milvado — there is nothing but G-d — is the attitude towards life. When things “happen” to one, and when different events are a part of “life” or “nature” or “world”, then one is allowed to get upset and angry and disappointed. It may not be healthy, but it’s logical to get angry at life being unfair, at “the Universe” tripping you up, at some jerk with a huge shovel attached to his car pushing snow into your driveway (no, this hasn’t happened yet; I am just reliving the happy memories and looking forward to their repetition this year).

On the other hand, if you believe that G-d is creating every single molecule, every single aspect of the world ex nihilo every second, that He is present in every event in your life, then things don’t just “happen” and nothing is “just life”. Everything that you experience and encounter is created by G-d — personally for you. And it’s a little rude to get angry at G-d, to get impatient or disappointed with Him. After all, He knows better and is wise and merciful.

A couple (or triple) caveats. First, this does not deny the freedom of will. We all have the freedom of will. But, someone’s freedom to choose whether to punch me in the nose or not has nothing to do with me getting punched in the nose. I got punched in the nose because G-d wanted to punch me in the nose. At the same time, He gave (for a different reason) someone a choice whether to punch me in the nose or not (as a part of His ongoing relationship with that person). Had the person chosen not to punch me in the nose, G-d would find some other way for me to get my nose smashed. So, don’t get angry at that person for doing any wrong to you. Get angry at G-d — or, rather, don’t!

Second, this does not mean that we should not make our lives better. The whole concept of tikkun olam (and that starts in your own backyard) still applies. Again: you have freedom of will. Just because you bought a hat that’s one size too small doesn’t mean that you have to say “oh well” and accept it. Go to the store and exchange the hat. But, if for some reason you irreversibly lost $1.25, don’t get angry. Since there is nothing you can do about it, G-d wanted this to happen to you, and therefore, it’s for the best. So, l’hatchillo, be proactive. B’dieved, be grateful for your life.

Third (and this is an extension of the second), this does not deny the concept of prayer. Davening really deserves a post (or ten) of its own, but the point is the same as above: we have a freedom to change our lives. When we go to a store to change a hat, we take a physical action. When we daven to become better people — and as a result, become more deserving of better things in life — we take a step in a spiritual direction.

And again, you are not allowed to be depressed about your spiritual state either. As Tanya states, you’re allowed to be bitter — for the purpose of realizing that something’s wrong and deciding to change it. But then, Alter Rebbe says, you must get rid of all negative emotions immediately and again look at the world and yourself with joy. Even though whom you become in the next second depends on you, whom you have become, at this point of your life, was brought about by Hashem. L’hatchillo, be proactive about improving yourself. B’dieved, be grateful for who you are. Otherwise, you’re being ungrateful to Hashem, personally.

All of this is not just some psycho-babble. Living and serving G-d (and for a chossid, these two things are the same, really) with joy is a mark of a Jew who takes derech of Chassidus and the doctrine of ein od milvado seriously. Everyone can accept some philosophical concept in theory. Living with it is more difficult. But we have to. We are expected to.

P.S. Oh yeah. Nivel peh is bad. There. :-P

The fourth approach (or, Tradition, tradition! (Part 6)

I am often accused of stereotyping, labeling, and general bigotry. Well, alright, not so often, from time to time, but in any event, I try to attend to the rebuke (why, incidentally, does the End button never work on Macs?) and correct myself.
     How much more depressing, therefore, when the members of the groups that I practice my bigotry against act to strengthen the basis for it! (My complaint is not dissimilar to that of Douglas Adams recalling the cases when one meets a German lacking sense of humor. Here you were, working on this stereotype that you had held the whole life, and then, when you feel you almost succeeded overcoming it, comes a German with a sense of humor similar to that of a cork. Anyway, this is actually a very serious post, so enough about humor.)
      In any event, over this Shabbos I started reading Maimonides: Torah and Philosophical Quest by David Hartman. The author starts discussing "what options are available to someone who, while living within [religious] tradition, is exposed to different world views" from the society (especially, its intellectual elements) around him. He provides four options:

1. The way of insulation: ignoring that the secular views exist and thus not allowing them to contradict the tradition by submitting one's intellect to the tradition and community. "My thoughts are not your thoughts"; therefore, no contradiction can happen. "Thus has G-d spoken" and no other view can exist.
2. The way of dualism: being a Jew on the street and an intellectual in private; i.e., behaving according to the tradition, but knowing, in the privacy of one's mind, that rationality disagrees with Torah. This, according to the author, is a way of elitism, of aristocracy. Those holding to it sacrifice their intellect to their body, and their body to the community.
3. The way of rejection: unable to sacrifice one's mind, one rejects the community and the tradition (r"l).
4. The way of integration: an attempt to integrate rationality and tradition into one whole.

     It is this last approach that I wish to quote verbatim from the book. Although I may be accused of stereotyping again, I should like to say that this approach -- and the agenda born of it -- is rather stereotypical of the approach I have seen from most members (that I have encountered) of the school of thought within Orthodox Judaism to which the author belongs. For myself, I shall not say that I believe this approach is treif gomur, but I do believe that it is treif v'toiv loi (I wonder how many people will get the pun). I quote, again, verbatim, only omitting certain passages and hyphenating G-d. At first it's all theory, but then the author gets to practice (if you wish to skip the theory -- although I advice against it -- see the label "practice").

Ani Hashem Loi Shanisi, part 1

(No, that's not a lame attempt at a pun.)

Hemshech “Mem Gimmel”,  ma'amor “Tannu Rabannan – Neir Chanukah”. Rebbe Rashab asks the question: “How can you say, ‘I, Hashem, have not changed’, if  indeed you see a tremendous amount of change from one world to another?” E.g., from Atzilus, the world of revelation, which is one with Hashem (“He and His causations are one”) — to the point that, for instance, Chochma of Atzilus is called literally the Brain of G-d — to our physical world, in which G-d is almost not revealed. That’s a big change. And since G-d creates the worlds, surely it means the change in Him, no?

Or, how can you say that G-d does not change if He is in control of every single atom’s movement in the Universe? Same logic.

There are many answers that Rebbe Rashab brings to explain this, from more philosophical to more profound. The first time I learned the ma’amor the following answer caught my attention because of its novelty to me:

In order for something to change, it needs a form. A metzius. The whole concept of change can be actualized only through that form.

G-d does not have a form. His revelation takes forms, but His Essence has no form, because it cannot be defined, constricted to a specific metzius. Therefore, His Essence is beyond the concept of change.

How about that? It’s not the deepest answer (that G-d’s mode of creation of the world is “yesh me’ayin”, ex nihilo), nor the most philosophical (that if you have simple infinity, a finite exertion of creative energy cannot cause change in it), but for me it is somehow the coolest.

Then again, some of the more skeptical folk may say this is just an excuse. Which is why you have to learn the rest of the ma’amor.

Another interesting thing about the above explanation is that the smarter a person is the less he thinks he understands it. (Actually, I think there may be some sort of inverted parabolic function.)

[Picture by Boris Dubov]

Stay connected

(everything was created in opposites; source)

So, I only really just want to share the movie below (and update the blog a little), but since it is always nice to connect something to Torah, I will write three thoughts one can derive from this movie:

1. Unlike in this movie, our Creator did not abandon us. He put us here with a purpose, He knows about our struggles, and He is in control.

2. You should never want to be something you are not. Don’t desire to be like angels. Be Jews — with human guf, both Divine and animal souls, and the Essence of the soul which is part of G-d above, literally. We are better than angels and more fortunate — despite the fact (and especially due to the fact) that we are stuck in this lowly, limited, dark world. We have something they don’t have, perched on a tree in the Upper Realms. We have Hashem’s Essence.

3. Stay connected to your source. Every time you do something against Hashem’s Will (G-d forbid) or even when you do something which has nothing to do with Hashem’s Will, you’re disconnecting yourself. And at that moment, you are not alive — you are dead.

4. Did I say three thoughts? OK, here is a bonus: we do not serve Hashem for rewards. For pleasure. For the Upper Realms or the Lower Realms. Not even for the pleasure of His Essence. We serve Hashem because it pleases Him and because this is the purpose for which we were created. (How is this seen in the movie? Not sure — but it’s true nevertheless.)

Good luck with the marathon on your way to receiving Torah.

And now the movie:

A parable about geometric figures

A triangle and a circle were arguing what the leading geometric figure of the future will be.

They agreed that triangle has advantages, but so does the circle. One problem is: although superficially more attractive, the triangle is less stable. On the other hand, circle is, well, way too round. So, it was agreed that even though the circle will lose its current fundamentalism and become somewhat of an oval, the triangle will certainly not survive, at least in its current shape (no pun intended… I think).

Now, a complex 11-dimensional figure which was sitting nearby, overhearing the conversation, mumbled something like: “Don’t you guys realize that you both are flat and two-dimensional? I mean, three hundred years ago, such a conversation would be somewhat interesting, but today it’s just silly. No matter which one of you survives and in what shape, you will still remain flat.”

The two figures heard that and said: “This is why nobody likes you. You don’t even think of other geometric figures as geometric figures.”

The complex 11-dimensional figure responded: “Of course I do. I just think you lack some depth. (And maybe some more dimensions.)”

But, it was too late. The other two figures left to tell their friends of yet another example of a hating complex 11-dimensional figure.

* * *

Homework assignment:

• Contribution of Chassidus to Davening
• Chassidus of Learning Torah
• Baal Shem Tov’s Revolution
• On the Essence of Chassidus

Reward for a mitzva

Many people think that the reward for doing a mitzva will come later, at some point after doing it. Now, some people think that they should do the mitzva because of the reward. Others, however, don’t think that way: they see a value in the mitzva independently of the reward, but — they figure — the reward itself will come later as well, since G-d is just and rewards the good deeds.

Both groups are wrong. Doing a mitzva in the physical world — and I don’t care whether it’s something “ritual” (such as lighting Shabbos candles or putting on tefillin) or “ethical” (such as helping a friend in need) — involves meeting the Essence of G-d. It also involves uniting Kadosh Boruchu with Shchintei (Holy One, Blessed be He, with His Name) — i.e., revealing G-d’s Essence in the material world, creating dira b’tachtoinim, dwelling for Him in the lower worlds.

The dira b’tachtoinim part is the objective, altruistic part of the mitzva — the ultimate reason for doing it. But the ultimate reward for it is not the pleasure you’ll experience in the Gan Eiden. It’s the fact that you just met with G-d. Not with the revelation of G-d, not with the Infinite Light, but with its Source, with G-d Himself. With His undefinable, unlimited, unique and ungraspable Essence.

That is the reward.

So, when you have an opportunity to do an “extra” mitzva, don’t be an idiot and start feeling so proud and good about yourself. Be humble and say “thank you”. You’ve just been granted the most intimate, most private yechidus (audience) with the Essence of G-d. It’s a very special gift.

Think about it — when somebody asks you to do a favor, you are doing him a finite favor. But by giving you opportunity to do an extra mitzva and meet G-d one extra time, he is doing you an infinite favor. So, even more than somebody is grateful to you for doing a favor, you should be grateful to him for asking.