The rolling stones and midrashic mysteries

The chapters of Judaism Reclaimed which relate to parashat Vayeitze focus on the episode of Ya’akov’s dream of angels ascending and descending a ladder. Having attempted to explain the vision from both a mystical and a Maimonidean perspective, we turn our focus to the dramatic Midrashic subplot of the stones which, initially in competition with one another, eventually unite beneath the sleeping Ya’akov’s head.

At the start of the parashah we read how Ya’akov “took from the stones of the place and placed [it/them] at his head” (Bereishit 28:11). The primary practitioners of peshat – Ibn Ezra and Radak – detect nothing untoward, writing that Ya’akov took a single stone – the same stone which he subsequently uses as part of an offering (Bereishit 28:18). Rashi, on the other hand, cites an aggadic account which contrasts the earlier plural with subsequent singular form to teach that:

They [the stones] started quarrelling with one another. One said, “Let the righteous man lay his head on me,” and another one said, “Let him lay [his head] on me.” Immediately, the Holy One, blessed be He, made them into a single stone. This is why it is stated (verse 18):“and he took the stone [in the singular] that he had placed at his head.” [From Chullin 91b].

Maharal, who regards this aggada (and many others) as relating the profound spiritual dynamics which underpin the Torah’s text, reacts furiously to “those who pursue the simple meaning” of the Torah rather than the received aggadic traditions. Judaism Reclaimed explores the two extreme positions of Maharal and Rambam. For Maharal, midrashic interpretations are regarded as intended textual enhancements while, for Rambam, the majority of aggadot constitute a distinct body of ethical, philosophical and theological teachings, attached to the Torah’s text for the sake of convenience. This dispute is traced back to a deeper divide between the theological approaches of Maharal, who regards the Written Torah as an exhaustive compendium of all truths, and Rambam, for whom the Written Torah is regarded more as a practical guide towards religious and spiritual achievement. Rashi’s midrashic methodology is also examined in the process.

Taking a step back, we try to show that there are several distinct categories of midrash aggada. Some midrashim, such as those describing Avraham’s early years, are widely understood to be offering historical accounts, being attempts to fill in gaps in the narrative through ancient traditions. Other midrashim, strongly emphasised by Rambam, are taken to be repositories of profound ideas, which can be identified and extracted from them by sufficiently wise students. A further common category looks to use biblical characters, narratives and motifs in order to highlight and accentuate moral lessons. Judaism Reclaimed provides examples of these, and of how these various forms of aggada can be recognised and interpreted.

Modern readers may be willing to accept Rambam’s claim that certain aggadot contain esoteric material which had to be encoded in order to keep it from damaging those who would be unable to process it correctly. But what are we to make of instances in which rabbis appear to be deliberately misleading us with their fanciful aggadic depictions and by offering us ethical advice presented as historical enhancements to the narrative? Could some of our discomfort at this suggestion be due to the great gulf in culture and literary style between us and those for whom the aggadic passages were initially intended?

Rabbi Dr Joshua Berman has written extensively of the need to read biblical narratives with an awareness of the literary style of the ancient world. Might it be the case that the first aggadic readers would not have considered taking the narrative enhancements literally any more than 21st century readers imagine historical fiction to be fact?

First posted to Facebook 7 November 2021, here.