Can God change His mind?

In a popular post last month, this group explored a suggestion (advanced by the Seforno and developed by Rabbi S. R. Hirsch) that God’s initially “universal” plan for the world was recalibrated and amended to seek out a single “Chosen Nation” which would receive and transmit His Torah. While that post addressed the issue from the perspective of Choseness, the very idea of God appearing to change His mind and resort to Plan B raises thorny theological problems.

Judaism Reclaimed highlights Rav Hirsch’s approach to tackling this difficulty. Focusing on a close grammatical reading of the relevant biblical phrase, he argues that none of these amendments represented a 'change of God's mind', but rather a tailoring of the divine plan in response to human conduct.

“And God regretted (vayinachem) that He had made man upon the earth, and He became grieved in His heart.” (Bereshit 6:6)

Crucially the Torah employs the active form of the verb "vayinachem" rather than the reflexive form of the verb "vayitnachem", which would have implied that God changed himself. This usage supports the idea that the element of change was caused by a factor — the exercise of human free will — that was inherently external to God rather than being intrinsic to His original plan.

The word vayinachem appears again in response to Israel’s repentance and Moshe’s prayer in the immediate aftermath of the Golden Calf:

“God reconsidered (vayinachem) the evil He had said He would do to His people.” (Shemot 32:14)

This can be seen in contrast to the word vayitnachem – which the Torah itself tells us cannot be applied to God:

“God is not a man that He should lie, nor is He a mortal that He should change His mind (veyitnecham).” (Bemidbar 23:19)

Interestingly, while Rav Hirsch in this instance steadfastly rejects the literal implication of the Torah’s text, he nevertheless makes it clear that he opposes the position advocated for by Rambam which seeks to reinterpret and explain any biblical terms which appear to impute physicality to God.

“Scholars have philosophised about these expressions [anthropomorphism], in order to keep us far from ascribing to God material features. This gives rise, however, to the danger that the Personality of God will become increasingly blurred and indistinct to our perception. Had that been the Torah’s intention it could easily have avoided such expressions … Belief in the Personality of God is more important than the speculations of those who reject the attribution of material features to God.”

Elsewhere Rav Hirsch explained further how: “the maturest mind of the philosopher knows no more about the essence of God than the simple mind of the child”.

As Judaism Reclaimed proceeds to analyse in a subsequent chapter, Rav Hirsch’s position comes very close to that of earlier rabbinic authorities who took biblical descriptions of God at face value. Marc Shapiro, in The Limits of Orthodox Theology, invests great effort to collect and present rabbinic statements which, taken superficially, reflect belief in a physical deity. While he sees medieval rabbinic commentator, Moshe Taku, as the “most significant" example of rabbinic corporealism, leading scholar of medival rabbinic mysticism, Joseph Dan begs to differ, writing that:

"He [R’ Taku] insists on the literal acceptance of the prophets' descriptions of their visions as well as the anthropomorphic references to God in talmudic-midrashic literature. He does not do so because of his belief in the literal veracity of these descriptions; he only insists that they represent the maximum that can be conveyed concerning God's essence and appearance, and that any further inquiry cannot lead to valid conclusions. God chose to reveal to us in the scriptures whatever is found in them: man should be satisfied with that, and ask no more questions. It is not that Rabbi Moses Taku believed in an anthropomorphic God; most probably, he did not.”

Having addressed claims of rabbinic belief in a physical deity, Judaism Reclaimed then proceeds to demonstrate, however, that none of this would be likely to impress Rambam, who states with equal force that any attempt to worship or connect “without knowledge” to God such as by attributing physical features to Him:

“does not in true reality mention or think about God. For that thing which is in his imagination and which he mentions is his mouth does not correspond to any being at all and has merely been invented by his imagination”. (Moreh Nevuchim 3:51)

Since, for Rambam, connection to God is an absolute reality and achieved primarily by means of the intellect, the quality and existence of such a connection is directly affected by the correctness of a person’s intellectual perception of God. He cannot accept, therefore, the notion that one should just accept the biblical text at face value. Instead biblical indications about the incorporeality of God combined with a powerful rabbinic tradition serve as signposts to scholars seeking to maximise their understanding of and relationship with God.

Find out more at www.TalmudReclaimed.com.

First posted on Facebook 10 November 2024. For comments and discussion, click here.

Yad mamash: Professor Marc Shapiro and divine incorporeality in Jewish tradition

Early feedback received from readers of Judaism Reclaimed indicates that one particular chapter seems to have caught people’s imagination: our critique of the arguments presented by Prof Marc Shapiro in the first section of his influential and thought-provoking book The Limits of Orthodox Theology.to mark this week’s parashah, which features one of Shapiro’s important claims – based on Rashi’s interpretation of the term “God’s hand” as “Yad Mamash” (lit. “real hand”).

While the broader theme of Shapiro’s book can be described as an attempt to demonstrate the range of dispute which has existed over what are now regarded as core Jewish beliefs, the chapters which I examine assess the consistency of Rabbinic belief in Divine corporeality. Judaism Reclaimed first establishes that Jewish belief in a non-physical nature should not be regarded as part of any kind of illegitimate rational revolution wrought by Rambam. Rather, a strong tradition of rendering anthropomorphism metaphorically can be traced back through the Geonic and Talmudic era to ancient times, well before Rambam formalised his Thirteen Principles.

At first glance, Shapiro appears to have amassed an impressive array of religious and historical sources which point towards belief in a physical God. Our chapter seeks to place these sources under the microscope to determine whether they stand up to sustained scrutiny. What shows up first are sources (such as Rabbi Moshe Cordovero and Josephus) of which Shapiro has quoted a single line from a much larger chapter. Examination of the chapter in its entirety, however, reveals that the source is actually stating, sometimes in very strong terms, the opposite of what Shapiro would have us believe.

Our critique also highlights significant omissions questioning, for example, whether it is accurate to declare Rashi a ‘corporealist’ on the basis of a single statement of “Yad Mamash” in this week’s parashah, when other explicit statements of Rashi - to which Shapiro makes no reference – explicitly contradict this conclusion. We note how leading academic opinions are not given a voice when they dispute Shapiro’s interpretations (even if these same academics are approvingly feted elsewhere in his book).

Much of Shapiro’s chapter focuses on literal readings of aggadic or kabbalistic sources which, he claims, are “very difficult to understand metaphorically”. Little effort, however, is expended on providing any form of context from the almost unanimous tradition that much aggadic material is intended to be understood metaphorically. Similarly, Shapiro does not cite the conclusions of leading scholars from both the academic and religious worlds who unite in their insistence that, to quote Professor Gerschom Scholem “limbs of the human body [mentioned in mystical sources]…are nothing but images of a certain spiritual mode of existence…the Divine Being Himself cannot be expressed. All that can be expressed are His symbols”. By including even such brief explanations of mystical terminology and concepts, Shapiro could have afforded his readers a better opportunity to assess the credibility of his claims regarding the corporeal implications of Kabbalah. It is argued that Shapiro’s failure to engage the basic structures of these systems results in him drawing superficial and at times misleading conclusions from their words.

The debate surrounding Divine corporeality within Jewish tradition requires great nuance, scholarship and even-handedness in order to determine accurately the meaning of texts which are regarded, by religious and academic scholarship alike, to contain esoteric or hidden meanings. It is my contention that the relevant chapters of The Limits of Orthodox Theology fall well short in each of these categories.

Note: The related debate in Hilchot Teshuvah between Rambam and Ra’avad over the implications of belief in a physical deity is examined in the preceding chapter of Judaism Reclaimed.

First posted on Facebook 1 February 2020, here.

The House of the Resting Shechinah -- Human attempts to conceptualize God

The coming week’s parashah poses a thorny theological challenge – the notion of God ‘residing’ in a specific location within the physical world. In his dedication of the first Mikdash (Kings I, the wise king Shlomo was highly sensitive to this complexity, stating: 

 “But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Behold the heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain You; much less this temple that I have erected”. 

Nevertheless, Shlomo puts aside his apparently unsolved conundrum and states:

"That Your eyes may be open toward this house night and day, toward the place which You said, 'My Name will be there;' to listen to the prayer that Your servant will pray toward this place”.

It is possible that Shlomo’s petition embodies an approach neatly formulated in a far later era by Rabbi S. R. Hirsch, which recognises that God’s existence and essence lie well beyond human comprehension, and instead chooses to focus exclusively on the practicalities of the God-human relationship. R’ Hirsch was adamantly opposed to what he regarded as the over-philosophising of descriptions of God in the Torah, accusing its proponents of causing God’s Personality to become “increasingly blurred and indistinct to our perceptions”. Rather, 

“belief in the Personality of God is more important than the speculations of those who reject the attribution of material features to God”.

Professor Joseph Dan, a leading scholar in the subject of medieval Jewish thinkers, proposes a similar interpretation of anthropomorphic statements in the writings of the Rishonim – most striking among them the Bohemian Rabbi, Moshe Taku. R’ Taku’s Ketav Tamim at first glance contains overwhelming evidence of Rabbinic belief in the notion that God has physical attributes, a fact not missed by Prof Marc Shapiro (The Limits of Orthodox Theology) who regards R Taku as the “most significant” example of Rabbinic corporealism. Prof Dan however, whose opinion is not mentioned in The Limits…, writes that:

He [R’ Taku] insists on the literal acceptance of the prophets' descriptions of their visions as well as the anthropomorphic references to God in talmudic-midrashic literature. He does not do so because of his belief in the literal veracity of these descriptions; he only insists that they represent the maximum that can be conveyed concerning God's essence and appearance, and that any further inquiry cannot lead to valid conclusions. God chose to reveal to us in the scriptures whatever is found in them: man should be satisfied with that, and ask no more questions. It is not that Rabbi Moses Taku believed in an anthropomorphic God; most probably, he did not.

Just as R’ Hirsch regarded human speculations as to God’s essence as futile and distracting from the primary religious endeavour since “the maturest mind of the philosopher knows no more about the essence of God than the simple mind of a child”, R’ Taku is similarly dismissive of attempts to place God within what he perceives to be a restrictive rational framework: “they are issuing decrees to the Creator as to how He must be. By doing so they are degrading themselves”. (Some fascinating debate surrounding the proper interpretation of R’ Taku’s work has been taking place in the comments section to this recent blogpost of R’ Slifkin relation to a chapter of Judaism Reclaimed).

Rambam, however, who studied in a philosophical setting more confident in its ability to discern “absolute truths”, is more prepared to embrace the fruit of rational human contemplation even concerning God (he crucially identifies the human intellect with the “image of God” of Bereishit). While he strongly asserts that the human intellect and language cannot make any positive pronouncements in this area, he does allow and even require us to declare what God is NOT. In a similar vein, he is sufficiently confident in the binding nature of his rational conclusions to declare that God’s inability to perform the impossible or take on what we perceive to be limiting physical attributes “signifies neither inability nor deficiency of power on His part”. Rambam’s confidence in human rationality leads him to the philosophising of anthropomorphic passages in the Torah which dominates the opening section of Moreh Nevuchim. Others such as R’ Taku and R’ Hirsch appear to have been more convinced of the limitations of human speculation regarding the divine. Their interpretation of anthropomorphic texts was therefore limited to the practicalities of the religious message they sought to convey.

First posted to Facebook 22 February 2020, here.

One Torah to guide them all: divine depictions and careful contradictions

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Beha’alotecha opens by observing how the parashah’s narratives provide a clear insight into the broad range of spiritual levels that existed among the Jewish People in the Wilderness. We look at how the Torah caters for this diversity with laws which are nuanced and applicable to people on all different rungs of the ladder of spiritual growth.

This aspect of the Torah’s breadth of applicability is of primary concern to Rambam, who places great emphasis on the ability of the Torah to be relevant to the entire nation. For this reason, he explains, the Torah adopts a style of depicting God through the extensive use of anthropomorphism that, if taken literally, is not merely inaccurate but actually blasphemous. Rambam justifies this practice by invoking the maxim dibrah Torah belashon bnei adam — that the Torah ‘’talks in the language of man’’ in order to ensure that God’s existence is fully accepted and understood, even by people whose minds are equipped to relate only to physical existence rather than metaphysical spirituality. The Torah therefore describes God in human terms, portraying Him as moving, speaking and standing — activities which are truly applicable only to physical beings. The use of such terms implies that God’s actions are governed by the same physical limitations as man; they are therefore blasphemous when applied to God.

While the Torah employs anthropomorphic terminology when describing God and His actions, the Targum plays the crucial role of indicating to readers that anthropomorphic descriptions are not to be understood literally. Rambam writes glowingly of how Onkelos’ “translations” subtly departed from the Torah’s literal physical descriptions of God while doing so in a way that the masses were able to comprehend. Onkelos achieved this by, for example, referring in the context of God “moving” to God’s Shechinah (Presence) rather than God Himself, and by God “revealing Himself” rather than descending (a verb that depicts motion from one place to another). Rambam’s position is consistent with the great importance accorded to the Targum by the Gemara, which writes that the Targum Onkelos is an explanation of the Torah’s text which can be traced back to Ezra and which, the commentaries tell us, was part of the oral tradition which originated from Sinai.

Rambam’s position on anthropomorphism, specifically the notion that the Torah initially encourages heretical views as a necessary stepping-stone to achieving true beliefs – is one that many are liable to find shocking. A broader perspective of Rambam’s approach, however, allows one to appreciate that the Torah’s function is not to confront the Jewish People abruptly with a list of strict truths and harsh demands. Rather, it is a handbook which has been drafted in such a way as to coax and guide them towards correct conduct and beliefs (we examine certain examples of this phenomenon). The tension which arises from the need to incorporate within a single system both the ideal pursuit of divine truths and the common perception of religious piety is a central theme in Rambam’s thought, and underlines the Torah’s ability to cater simultaneously for multiple religious levels within the Jewish People.

The late Prof. Marvin Fox writes, in his highly-recommended Interpreting Maimonides, that it is this tension between which underlies the phenomenon of the “contradictions” which Rambam discusses in his introduction to Moreh Nevuchim. Responding to the Maimonidean theories advanced by academics such as Leo Strauss, who understood Rambam to be hinting that he had been forced to conceal his true radical views from the ‘masses’, Fox argues instead that they are indicative of Rambam’s religious realism. Rambam was acutely aware of the delicate balance which must be maintained between what he saw as the Torah’s ultimate goal of elevated intellectual connection to God on the one hand and the practical realities and imperfections of everyday religious engagement on the other.

In one example, he cites the claim of Maimonidean contradiction on the subject of prayer. Rambam teaches the philosophical truth that the only true praise of God is silence, since we are unable to formulate any accurate descriptions of God’s attributes. Yet he also codifies and upholds liturgical references to God being, among other things, “great and mighty”, tacitly recognising the need of the human spirit to express itself in words. Fox concludes that, in allowing both the denial of divine attributes and the duty to pray, Rambam “seems to affirm that there must be a place within a single system for the demands of both religious piety and philosophical truth”.

First posted on Facebook 7 June 2020, here.

Rashi and the Hand of God: a body of proof?

“Ah yes. Of course. Rashi believed God has a body. After all, he writes that God has a physical hand!”

I still remember how these simplistic words irked me. Spoken by a fairly well-informed Jewish student. And it wasn’t an isolated conversation. More often than not, these forceful attributions to Rashi of belief in a physical deity would draw support from Prof. Marc Shapiro’s The Limits of Orthodox Theology, the early chapters of which claim that such a belief was prevalent in Rabbinic thought.

Judaism Reclaimed contains a lengthy critique of these chapters of The Limits, in which I seek to provide counter-arguments and crucial context to Prof. Shapiro’s claims. Of particular relevance to this week’s parashahis the discussion surrounding Rashi’s belief.

In his commentary to an earlier passage of Shemot “I will place my hand against Egypt” Rashi explains “yad mamash [His actual hand] is used to smite them”. Shapiro cites this as an example of Rashi attributing a real, physical hand to God. Almost concealed in a brief footnote, however, is an oblique reference to Rashi’s own figurative explanation of the term “yad mamash” which appears in parashat Beshalach, shortly before the Song of the Sea. Having again described God’s hand that the Israelites beheld as “yad mamash”, Rashi proceeds to explain that

Many terminologies can be represented by the term “yad” and they are all “yad mamash”; the interpreter should adjust the terminology to suit the context.

It emerges that the term “yad mamash” – actual hand – bears multiple possible interpretations in Rashi’s works. This flexibility is helpful when contemplating the implications of Rashi using “yad mamash” concerning God, particularly in light of his repeatedly stating in his commentary to the book of Yechezkel that

“all mentions of “yad Hashem” in prophetic works are a metaphorical expression of God’s power”.

Rashi’s explanation that there are many possible meanings of “yad mamash” may also assist perplexed readers elsewhere in the book of Shemot, where he employs the term “yad mamash” in an unambiguously figurative manner to describe the proximity of Pharaoh’s daughter’s maidens to the Nile.

Rashi’s terse and concise style, allied with the fact that his comments primarily seek to explain the text in question rather than broadcast his personal opinions, pose a great challenge to those attempting to prove definitively his philosophical position solely on the basis of his writings. Such difficulties are compounded by the fact that much of his commentary on the Torah takes the form of alluding to or paraphrasing (arguably mystical) esoteric Aggadic sources, whose anthropomorphic references to God I also analyse in Judaism Reclaimed.

Nevertheless, some further sources are worthy of consideration. The Machzor Vitri, written by a close student of Rashi, condemns as a heretic anyone who states that God has a body. One who claims that Rashi himself held such a belief must contend with the implications that his close student (who quotes him admiringly throughout his book) was issuing such a severe condemnation of his revered teacher.

The Jewish philosopher Yeshayahu Leibowitz notes in Accepting the Yoke of Heaven that, while Rashi’s commentary is commonly dismissed as representing “naive faith”, those who read his writings with a trained eye will notice a sophisticated philosophical comprehension of God. In one instance, Rashi contrasts the superior prophecy of Moshe to that of other prophets, saying:

All the prophets looked through a dark glass and thought they saw, and our teacher Moshe looked through a clear glass and knew that he had not seen Him to His Face. [Commentary to Yevamot 49b]

Rashi clearly understands that God’s essence is beyond comprehension, and that Moshe, who experienced an enhanced level of prophecy, perceived this more acutely than other prophets.

Furthermore, in a low-key remark at the end of parashat Naso, Rashi comments that the word “midaber”, which is used to describe God “speaking” to Moshe, really means God “speaking to Himself”; Moshe did not hear a voice but rather gained an inner awareness of God’s meaning. This pivotal comment is described by Leibowitz as “astounding.” He adds:

Rashi lived two generations before Maimonides, but in these few words Rashi gives Maimonides’ entire view on prophecy…We are not surprised at Maimonides, for this view of prophecy is in keeping with his entire system of faith. But Rashi, who is always considered to be of naive faith and far from philosophic thought and analysis, says the exact same thing.

Whether Rashi truly intended to encapsulate Rambam’s “entire system of faith” in these few words can surely be debated. Notwithstanding this, I believe that Leibowitz’s observations, allied with the sources highlighted in this post, powerfully challenge the simplistic position of those who condescendingly disparage Rashi as a naive and unsophisticated corporealist.

First posted to Facebook 24 January 2021, here.

Angelic intermediaries and appropriate anthropomorthism

The period leading up to and including Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur is one during which observant Jews traditionally scrutinise and attempt to improve in all areas of their religious conduct. It is common to find minutiae of laws and stringencies which are disregarded for most of the year suddenly becoming the focus of attention as people make special efforts in order to secure a favourable judgment.

Set against this backdrop, I have long been surprised by the widespread willingness of worshippers to recite prayers in the Selichot which many of our leading rabbinic authorities have declared to be deeply problematic. One who petitions an angel in prayer appears to be in breach of Rambam’s fifth Principle of Faith which demands that one who prays direct all his thoughts to God, and not to angels – even to act as intercessors. Nor can this be regarded as a Maimonidean peculiarity based on any alleged rationalist or philosophical agenda. One of Rambam’s most fierce critics, Ramban, writes similarly that “The third form of idolatry is considering angels capable of serving as intermediaries between God and His worshippers. Realise that even to pray to them for this purpose is forbidden to us.”. Other significant figures who have expressed opposition to these prayers include Maharal (who amended the wording) and Chatam Sofer who did not recite them.

While it is possible to draw support for this practice from various aggadic sources (a methodology which itself can be strongly questioned) my difficulty remains. At a time of year when we are adopting stringencies and striving for perfection – why do so few people appear to be concerned with prayers which many of our most revered sages categorise as idolatrous?

When it comes to the Machnisei Rachamim passage, I can understand the position of those who consider that this falls outside the parameters of prayer to an intermediary. The prayer opens by requesting that those who bring prayers of mercy before God should “usher in our [plea for] mercy before the Master of mercy”. This can be understood to embody a rhetorical flourish to the effect that the process already in place for prayers to reach God should function in the correct way. For the avoidance of any doubt, the passage concludes with a direct request to God “Speedily answer us, O God…”. More troubling, however, is the ”Malachei Rachamim” piyyut, which openly implores angels to entreat God on our behalf and contains no direct prayer to Him.

The broader feeling among those who support the saying of these prayers is partly motivated by an unwillingness to tamper with and remove parts of a liturgy which have been popularly recited for many centuries and which are an established part of the service. In addition, they add that these passages are a small part of a greater service which is clearly addressed to God; they serve to stir the heart and emotions and sometimes have moving melodies attached to them. Should such popular expressions of religious fervour therefore be sacrificed merely to appease those who indulge in an over-zealous philosophical witch-hunt?

This debate echoes another fundamental discussion over the role and proper place of anthropomorphism within Judaism. In Judaism Reclaimed I contrast the approaches of Rambam and Rabbi S. R. Hirsch to this matter. Rambam dedicates most of the first section of his Moreh Nevuchim to a sustained attempt to decode and minimise scriptural references to God engaging in physical activities such as moving and seeing. While such descriptive terms where necessary in order to convey the Torah’s message in a way in which people could understand, Rambam places them in the category of “necessary evil” and requires those who are capable of more profound understanding to distance themselves from rendering them literally. Crucially, this is not an area for compromise or concession: since our connection to God is dependent on our conception of Him, any false notion of a quasi-physical deity could be deeply damaging.

Responding to this immense Maimonidean project, Rav Hirsch writes:

“Scholars have philosophised about these expressions [anthropomorphism], in order to keep us far from ascribing to God material features. This gives rise, however, to the danger that the Personality of God will become increasingly blurred and indistinct to our perception. Had that been the Torah’s intention it could easily have avoided such expressions … Belief in the Personality of God is more important than the speculations of those who reject the attribution of material features to God.”

In a similar vein, Rav Hirsch was firmly in favour of the recitation of these Selichot passages – even attacking those who criticised a “widespread theme of piyyutim” on the basis of mistaken theological concerns.

On a personal level, I think that those searching for seasonal stringencies could do far worse than strengthening the boundaries which separate Judaism from idolatry. Justifications and reasonable sources may be found to excuse those who recite these prayers. But, in an age in which pilgrimages to graves and establishment of shrines are becoming increasingly popular among those seeking spiritual experiences, and with the distinctions between proper and improper prayer often blurred, my personal stringency for this year will be an attempt to state and emphasise publicly the words of Ramban that “The third form of idolatry is considering angels capable of serving as intermediaries between God and His worshippers. Realise that even to pray to them for this purpose is forbidden to us”.

First posted on Facebook 18 September 2022, here.