Ulterior Motives

ESSAY
Ulterior Motives
Love that depends on ulterior motives and a love that transcends them
Terms of Termination
What to do with the ‘evil beasts’ – two opinions

A love that is dependent on something - when the thing ceases, the love also ceases. But a love that is not dependent on anything never ceases. Which is a love that is dependent on something? The love of Amnon for Tamar. And one that is not dependent on anything? The love of David and Jonathan.
Ethics of the Fathers 5:16

On the surface, the difference between these two types of love seems obvious. The first is an attraction and connection between two people that is based on some ulterior motive: the lover wishes to benefit in some way from his relationship with the beloved. But beauty may fade, physical passion wane, “common interests” grow less interesting; people whose ideas and whose company we once found stimulating can become repetitious and unexciting. Bereft of its cause and basis, such love dissipates. But a truly altruistic love, a love in which two souls bond and fuse with no external motives or reasons, is eternal and invincible.

But a closer examination of the two examples cited by the Ethics yields some interesting results. The story of Amnon and Tamar is related in Samuel II chapter 13: Amnon was stricken by an incestuous desire for his sister Tamar and forced himself on her. His lust sated, “Amnon hated her... with a hatred that was greater than the love with which he had loved her” (ibid, 13:16).

As brother and sister, Amnon and Tamar were connected by an intrinsic bond that is not based on any external causes. The bond between siblings, as the bond between parent and child, stems from the fact that they are “one flesh”; it is a quintessential bond, one that is not caused by the beloved’s goodness, intelligence, physical beauty or any other such factors. Nevertheless, though this bond always exists, it is not always expressed in a person’s consciousness and behavior. It may lie dormant in the depths of one’s heart for years. Or, it may manifest itself only in the form of a lesser, externally motivated love, one that is limited to an appreciation of the beloved’s qualities. In the case of Amnon, his love for his sister was expressed only in the corrupt form of incestuous desire.

In other words, the example of Amnon’s love for and subsequent hate of Tamar illustrates that even a relationship which is in essence altruistic can be expressed in a way that makes it dependent on secondary factors. When this happens, these secondary elements become vital to the relationship - without them, the love cannot survive, at least not on any conscious level.

On the other hand, the love between David and Jonathan began as an ordinary friendship between two people with no intrinsic connection to each other - a friendship that is based on one’s appreciation and enjoyment of the other’s positive qualities. Yet their friendship developed into a truly altruistic love - “Jonathan’s soul became bound to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul” (Samuel I 18:1). To the point that Jonathan risked his life for David even though David’s very existence was to his detriment: Jonathan, the eldest son of King Saul, was initially destined to succeed his father as king of Israel. When Saul learned that David had been anointed by the prophet Samuel to be the next king, he wished to kill him; it was Jonathan who repeatedly saved David from Saul’s plans, telling David “You shall be king over Israel, and I shall be second to you” (ibid, 23:17).

It is therefore significant that the Ethics speaks of “a love that is dependent on something” and “a love that is not dependent on anything,” using the term “dependent on” (t’luyah) as opposed to “based on” or “caused by.” As the examples of Amnon and Jonathan demonstrate, the original cause and basis for a relationship does not, in itself, determine the nature of its expression. A quintessential love may be experienced only as something which is dependent on external factors, in which case the nature of the relationship is that of “a love that is dependent on something.” And a relationship that is initially based on “ulterior” motives can develop into “a love that is not dependent on anything.”

In his Mishneh Torah, Maimonides dwells on the significance of the concept of “love of G-d.” In chapter 10 of The Laws of Repentance he writes:

“One who serves G-d out of love occupies himself with the Torah and the mitzvot and follows the pathways of wisdom not for any reason in the world - not out of fear of evil or out of a desire to inherit the good; rather, he does the truth because it is true... This is the level which G-d enjoins us to attain, as it is written ‘You shall love the L-rd your G-d.’ When a person loves G-d with a proper love, he observes the mitzvot out of love...
“One who occupies himself with the Torah in order to receive reward or to escape punishment is doing it not for its own sake (shelo lishmah). And one who occupies himself with it... out of a love for the Master of the Universe who has commanded it to us is doing it for its own sake (lishmah). Said our sages: ‘A person should always occupy himself with the Torah, even if he is doing it not for its own sake; since from doing it not for its own sake he will come to do it for its own sake.’ ”

Chassidic teaching takes this a step further. Not only is doing the right thing for the wrong reasons desirable because it will ultimately lead to a more perfect state in which one “does the truth because it is true,” but even now, before attaining this higher state, one is doing it for the right reasons. While his conscious self may focus on the physical and spiritual benefits of leading a righteous life, deep down, in his heart of hearts, there is a part of him that is intrinsically connected to the truth and desires it in a purely altruistic manner. This idea is also expressed in the saying which Maimonides quotes. The Hebrew word mitoch means “from within”; so a literal translation of the saying would read: “A person should always occupy himself with the Torah, even if he is doing it not for its own sake, since from within his doing it not for its own sake he will come to do it for its own sake.” In other words, within a person’s ulterior motives lies a deeper truth - the desire, rooted in the very essence of his soul, to do what is right for its own sake.

However, this quintessential self is not, at the present phase of his spiritual development, expressed in his conscious feelings and day-to-day behavior. So although his desire to fulfill the Divine will “contains” a purely selfless love for G-d, his relationship with the Almighty is dependent upon other, external factors: his appreciation of how he would benefit, materially and spiritually, by leading a Torah-true life.

Therein lies a two-fold lesson of the Ethics’ discussion of “dependent” and “independent” love.

If you find that the good that you do is “tainted” with ulterior motives, do not discount the value of what you are doing. Ultimately, as the love of David and Jonathan demonstrates, a feeling originally born out of external causes can grew into “a love that is not dependent on anything” and ever-enduring. For at the core of your deeds and feelings lies a pure, altruistic commitment to your Creator and to the purpose of your creation. By being true to this commitment in your daily life, you will ultimately cause it to be realized also as an expressed and tangible feeling in your heart.

But one may take this to the other extreme, and say to himself: “If I indeed subconsciously possess a selfless love for the Almighty, why not rid myself of my imperfect feelings? Had I not best banish every self-oriented motive from my heart, so that my true nature may come to light?

So the Ethics cites the case of Amnon as its example for “a love that is dependent on something.” Although a quintessential bond underlay his relationship to Tamar, it did not “come to light” when his selfish love was undone. For though this bond did exist, it did not find expression in his feelings toward his sister. So when his “dependent love” lost its basis, it was replaced not by an altruistic love but by hatred and revulsion.

In Amnon’s case, his selfish “love” for his sister was corrupt and ruinous. But the lesson to be derived from it concerns the positive application of “dependent love.” It teaches us that our sense of how G-d’s Torah is beneficial to our lives must be fostered and cultivated. One must remember that “a love that is dependent on something - when the thing ceases, the love also ceases”; that as long as a person has not yet translated his quintessential love for G-d into a manifest feeling in his heart these external factors are vital to his relationship with the Almighty, as expressed in his conscious thoughts and feelings and in his day-to-day behavior.

I will give peace in the land, and you will sleep without fear; and I will terminate (v'hishbati) evil beasts from the land, and the sword will not pass through your domain
Leviticus 26:6

The precise meaning of the Hebrew word hashbatah, rendered here as “terminate,” is debated by our sages. According to Rabbi Judah, the term implies the utter cessation of a thing’s existence. Thus, Rabbi Judah understands the divine promise to “terminate evil beasts from the land” to mean that in the harmonious world of Moshiach all destructive creatures and forces will be “removed from the world.” Rabbi Shimon disagrees: in his opinion, hashbatah implies only the termination of a thing’s particular characteristics—in this case, the destructive nature of “evil beasts.” It is this feature of their being that G-d will eliminate, while they continue to exist in their new harmless and gainful cast.[1]

This is the root of several other debates between Rabbi Judah and Rabbi Shimon. For example, regarding the mitzvah to destroy all leaven (chametz) in one’s possession on the day before Passover, Rabbi Judah rules that “the destruction of leaven can be achieved only by burning.” His colleagues, however, are of the opinion that “one can also pulverize it and cast it to the wind or throw it into the sea.” [2] Here, too, the issue is the definition of the term hashbatah, which the Torah employs in commanding us that “on the first day, you shall terminate (tashbitu) leaven from your homes.” [3] Rabbi Judah understands this as a commandment to utterly destroy chametz, while Rabbi Shimon and the other sages hold that as long as the edibility and profit-ability of leaven (i.e. those aspects of its being that pertain to its prohibition on Passover) have been eliminated, one has met the requirements of hashbatah. [4]

Another example is a dispute between Rabbi Judah and Rabbi Shimon regarding work on Shabbat.

There are thirty-nine melachot, or categories of labor, that are forbidden on Shabbat, embracing practically every creative and constructive act of man. However, in order for an act to be considered a full-fledged transgression of the prohibition to work on Shabbat, subject to the penalties the prescribed by the Torah, it must be a “conscious work” (melechet machshevet), in which the creative result is the intended outcome of one’s deed. A case in point: The first of the thirty-nine melachot is choresh (“plowing”), a category that includes all forms of digging and landscaping. Nevertheless, one who drags a chair across his lawn on Shabbat, thereby cutting a groove in the earth, is absolved from penalty, since the “work” in question was unintentional.

But is it permissible to perform an unintentional melachah? This is the point of contention between Rabbi Judah and Rabbi Shimon. According to Rabbi Judah, such a deed falls under the category of “absolved but forbidden”: while only “conscious work” carries a penalty, it is still forbidden to do something that might result in a creative deed, albeit a deed that does not meet the full criteria of melachah. Rabbi Shimon, however, is of the opinion that a person may go ahead and drag that chair, even if he knows that his doing so may carve a groove in the earth; if the Torah defines “work” as a deed that is consciously creative, only such work is forbidden us on Shabbat.[5]

Once again, their debate centers on the definition of hashbatah. “Six days a week you shall work,” commands the Torah, “and on the seventh day you shall desist.”[6] The Hebrew word for “you shall desist,” tishbot (commonly translated “you shall rest”), is but another form of hashbatah, as, indeed, is the word “Shabbat.” But to what extent is the Torah telling us to terminate work on Shabbat? According to Rabbi Judah, hashbatah implies the utter cessation of a thing’s existence—no trace of melachah is to be enacted on Shabbat, not even the pseudo-melachah of unintended work. According to Rabbi Shimon, however, as long as the defining characteristic of melachah, its conscious creativity, has been eliminated, though the body of the melachah remains, the hashbatah of Shabbat has been realized in full.[7]

After citing Rabbi Judah and Rabbi Shimon’s differing interpretations of the verse “I will terminate evil beasts from the land,” the Midrash quotes the prophet Isaiah in support of Rabbi Shimon’s view: “The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid... An infant shall play on the cobra’s hole, and a child shall reach into the viper’s nest. They shall neither hurt nor destroy in all My holy mountain, for the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of G-d as the waters submerge the sea.” [8] Accordingly, the messianic ideal is not a world in which everything with a negative trait or potential disappears, but one in which these traits and potentials are eliminated, and the energies that sustain them redirected to positive and G-dly ends.[9]

Rabbi Shimon’s interpretation of the verse is also consistent with the time-context in which it is read and studied as part of the annual Torah-reading cycle. The Torah section of Bechukotai (Leviticus 26-27), which includes the divine promise to “terminate evil beasts from the land” in its opening verses, is read in the closing days of the sefirah-count, the seven-week process of self-refinement that leads from our annual re-experience of the Exodus on Passover to our receiving of the Torah on Shavuot. The objective of the sefirah process can be seen in the difference in our attitude toward leaven on these two festivals. On Passover, chametz is utterly rejected: we are forbidden to eat it, derive benefit from it in any way, or even keep it in our possession; there is even a special mitzvah to destroy all leaven that is in our possession on the eve of the festival. On Shavuot, however, not only is chametz permitted, but the Torah even commands that two loaves of leavened bread be offered on the altar in the Beit Hamikdash (the Holy Temple in Jerusalem—something that is strictly forbidden not only on Passover but all year round. Leaven, whose primary feature is that it rises and inflates itself, represents the source of all evil in the heart of man: arrogance and pride.[10] But the sefirah-count is the process by which we sublimate the forty-nine adverse derivatives of pride, until we reach the point that it is divested of its negativity and can be included in the G-dly environment of the Beit Hamikdash—the environment that constituted a “taste” of a future world that shall be “wholly Shabbat and tranquility, for everlasting life.”[11]

Based on the Rebbe's talks, Kislev 19 and 26, 5730 (November 29 and December 6, 1969)[12]

[7] Another, related debate between Rabbi Judah and Rabbi Shimon concerns a “melachah that is not for its own sake.” For example, what if a person digs a hole not because he needs a hole in the ground, but because he needs the earth he removes from it. Here, unlike the case of the dragged chair, the melachah, digging a hole, is intentional (and inevitable); it is only that its defining objective (to constructively shape the ground) is not the objective of the laborer. In such a case, Rabbi Judah and Rabbi Shimon both agree that the activity it is forbidden; but does it have the status of a full-fledged penal transgression? Rabbi Judah, who adopts the broader definition of hashbatah, says yes. Rabbi Shimon, who sees the lack of melechet machshevet as tantamount to the termination of work, takes the more lenient view, forbidding this quasi-intentionality but absolving it from penalty( Talmud, Shabbat 73b).

[9] Indeed, in all the above disputes (with the exception of case of "a melachah that is not for its own sake"), we follow the opinion of Rabbi Shimon (Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim, 445; Tur and commentaries, Orach Chaim, 442; Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim, 337; Likkutei Sichot, vol. VII p. 196. See ibid., p. 191, end of note 19).