Bereishit: the Book of Science and Technology

By מרדכי איש ימיני and Shmuli Phillips

The notion that humans are created Betzelem Elokim – in God’s image – is a central feature of the Creation passage, and often viewed as a fundamental teaching of the Torah. As Judaism Reclaimed notes, the concept of all people bearing God’s image is used to emphasise the inherent value of all human life. Various commentaries also seek to identify the Divine image with particularly important features that humans share with God, such as the rational intellect (Rambam) or free will (Meshech Chochma).

There is an additional dimension to “the image of God”, however, the dynamics of which play themselves out across the primary narratives of the book of Bereishit. The verses state:

“And God created man in His image…and God said to them, "Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it, and rule over the fish of the sea and over the fowl of the sky and over all the beasts that tread upon the earth." [1:27-28]

As Rabbi J. B. Soloveitchik points out in The Lonely Man of Faith, the command to “subdue” the natural world indicates that it is God’s will for mankind to employ its creative faculties in order to master its environment. Read in context of the previous verse, this implies that the ability that humanity has been granted to conquer and master the world through advancement in science and technology is an aspect of its being created in God’s image. To partner God in ruling the world, and governing it in accordance with His Will. According to this understanding, it is not simply reflecting upon the wonders and wisdom of the natural world that leads us to love of God – as Rambam writes (Hil. Yesodei HaTorah 2:2). But this must be taken further, fulfilling the Divine mandate to utilise our God-given intellect and skills to develop and sophisticate human existence. Through this process, humanity can improve its standard of living and, with it, its ability to focus on more elevated goals.

The religious importance of advancing human civilisation is a theme which appears to be emphasised through the book of Bereishit. Bereishit’s early heroes – the forefathers – are all shepherds, while its villains – such as Nimrod, Eisav and Yishmael – are characterised as wild hunters. With humanity gradually shifting from groups of hunter-gatherers to herders of flock, and eventually other forms of agriculture, the Torah subtly makes its stance on the matter clear.

Parashat Lech Lecha identifies Yishmael as a “wild-ass of a man”. The story continues in the following parasha to see him as a desert archer who is considered unqualified to be part of the foundations of the Chosen People who will bear God’s teachings to the humanity.

The message is presented in a particularly stark manner when the hunter, Eisav, returns exhausted from the field demanding to be fed. Ya’akov, by contrast, is patiently cooking lentil soup. The contrast between the wild, impatient Eisav and the calm “tent dweller” is evident. Hunter-gatherers’ existence is characterised by living for the here and now. Their food lasts for 48 hours before another hunt must be conducted. It is a lifestyle which led people to be impulsive, violent and living for the moment. Certainly “of what value for me is the firstborn?”. The forefathers’ shepherding and lentil-growing marked a level of increased civilisation and sophistication – a shift towards mastery of the world that the Torah strongly approves of.

The episode of Yosef and his brothers represents a further stage of progress, demonstrating that the Torah does not place inherent value on the occupation of shepherding. Instead Yosef dreams of wheat – a more sophisticated agricultural process which facilitates more stable cities and civilisations. As Viceroy in Egypt he takes this yet further, devising schemes for effective of storage of crops and thus teaching his subjects how to stave of famine.

Previous posts have described the profound meaning of Ya’akov’s dream – the angels going up and then down the ladder signify that they must, having perfected themselves, descend back down the ladder to bring the benefits of their knowledge to improve the societies around them. While this certainly includes religious and moral teachings, a Gemara (Shabbat 33b-34a) teaches that this also refers to human and technological advancement. It describes how Ya’akov, fresh from overcoming the angel of Eisav and reconciling with his brother, sought to enhance the living standard of the nearest civilisation. Different opinions suggest that he established a monetary system for them, a market system or public baths and hygiene. The common denominator being that the role of the prophet – and the role of religion – is to advance and develop the living standard of its society helping them to realise more fully the image of God with which they were created.

In today’s context this dimension of the image of God may lend particular importance to those who work, for example, in improving humanity’s lot by exploring genes and atoms. It is important for we who live in the modern era to remember that scientific and technological advancement can and must be viewed through the Torah’s lens of being partners in God’s Creation and further perceiving His wisdom and wonders. This can also prevent us from falling into the trap of those who built the Tower of Babel, whose technological advancements led to arrogance and a perception that they could transcend and overcome God and the mission which he entrusted to humanity.

For more on the Tower of Babel as a technological advancement see this superb analysis from R Alex Israel.

For more on the ladder in Ya’akov’s dream and its implication for prophets and Jewish leaders click here.

First posted on Facebook 14 October 2021, here.

Chinese evil and Maimonidean demons

Can humans ever sink to such depths of depravity that they effectively lose their humanity? Or worse?

Last week’s UN report published last week once again directed world attention to the mass incarceration and horrific abuses being carried out in the Xinjiang region of Northwest China. The indescribable horrors which are being inflicted on an entire population as well as the highly advanced technology that makes this oppression possible prompted me to recall a passage that I wrote in Judaism Reclaimed.

The Torah describes Adam’s son Shet as being in the image of Adam — a term which Rambam (Moreh 1:7) links to the earlier description of Adam as having been created "betzelem Elokim" (in the image of God). Rambam then cites a Gemara which states that, from the moment of his sin until the birth of Shet, Adam bore offspring which were not in his image but rather were "ruchot" or demons.

Tzelem Elokim — the element of humanity that can be said to be Godly — is identified with the intellect. It is through this uniquely human intelligence that people can make moral judgments to distinguish right from wrong, subdue their negative impulses and thereby direct their sophisticated intellectual capabilities so as to benefit the world around them.

In Rambam’s understanding, those who ignore their human calling to use their intellect to refine and control the animalistic aspects of their personality are considered behema betzurat adam (an animal in human form) rather than betzelem Elokim. Membership of this unesteemed group therefore can cause people to forfeit their human privileges such as divine providence and a share in the World to Come.

Far worse than this, however, are those who take this divine gift to humanity of a powerful intellect and use it to subdue and oppress others. As history repeatedly demonstrates, the greatest misery and hardship experienced by mankind is caused by people who have used their intellect to devise ways of furthering human suffering. These are the sorts of “demons” that, in Rambam’s understanding of the Gemara, were said to have been sired by Adam prior to Shet. It can be presumed that Rambam would offer a similar interpretation of Talmudic accounts of demons who dwell in uninhabited areas, damage unguarded buildings, and attack those who travel unaccompanied at night.

Tragically, the powerful Chinese government embodies this latter category of people, using their human intelligence to devise ever more effective methods for spying on their citizens and then seeking to control not only their behaviour but even their thoughts. Instead of utilising the gift of a divinely-granted intellect to improve the world by refining and elevating humanity – instead of channelling their science to the cause of alleviating hunger and disease – the atheist state implements a hideous mass-experiment in “re-education” to manipulate and subdue the tzelem Elokim of its religious citizens.

At the other end of the scale, world governments using their tzelem Elokim to build and improve the state of humanity is considered a key requirement for the onset of the Messianic era. Rambam writes later in the Moreh Nevuchim (3:11):

For through awareness of the truth, enmity and hatred are removed and the inflicting of harm by people on one another is abolished. It [Tanach] holds out this promise, saying “And the wolf shall dwell with the lamb…”. Then it gives the reason for this, saying that the cause of the abolition of these enmities, these discords and these tyrannies, will be humanity’s knowledge of God…

The primary and perhaps exclusive causes of warfare and misery are obsession with and competition over material possessions, power and pride. Once humanity is taught or becomes aware of this folly, its energies and capabilities will be channelled towards achieving universal happiness and spiritual fulfilment, thus “they will beat their swords into ploughshares…” and “your sons and daughters will prophesy”.

First posted to Facebook 4 September 2022, here.

What if man was one of us? The most perplexing verse in the Torah

Parashat Bereishit contains one of the most perplexing verses in the entire Torah, the difficulty of which is compounded by the fact that two of our earliest sources read it in entirely different ways.

In the aftermath of Adam and Eve’s sin in Gan Eden, God declares:

הֵ֤ן הָֽאָדָם֙ הָיָה֙ כְּאַחַ֣ד מִמֶּ֔נּוּ לָדַ֖עַת ט֣וֹב וָרָ֑ע וְעַתָּ֣ה | פֶּן־יִשְׁלַ֣ח יָד֗וֹ וְלָקַח֙ גַּ֚ם מֵעֵ֣ץ הַֽחַיִּ֔ים וְאָכַ֖ל וָחַ֥י לְעֹלָֽם

"Behold man has become like one of us, having the ability of knowing good and evil, and now, lest he stretch forth his hand and take also from the Tree of Life and eat and live forever".

Or does He?

The above translation is favoured by Rashi and Ibn Ezra, and is consistent with the cantillation which is traditionally accorded to Ezra. Remarkably, however, Targum Onkelos – an Aramaic translation of the Torah from the Tannaitic era which the Talmud understands to trace back to Sinai – reads these words very differently:

הָא אָדָם הֲוָה יְחִידַי בְּעַלְמָא מִנֵּהּ לְמִידַע טַב וּבִישׁ

“Behold man has become unique in the world, by himself can know good and evil…”

Onkelos’s rendering of this verse is consistent with Rambam’s understanding of his agenda – not simply translating the Torah but also carefully ensuring that it cannot be mistakenly interpreted in a manner that he deems heretical. Rather than reading the verse as God describing Himself as a plurality which might include humanity, a meaning that introduces all sorts of theological complications, Onkelos places the sentence’s pause on the word “ke’achad”. Humanity is therefore described as unique among creatures in its ability to determine right and wrong.

Unsurprisingly, Onkelos’s reading of this verse is adopted by Rambam in Hilchot Teshuva (5:1), and cited as part of his discussion regarding human free will:

“Free will is granted to all men. If one desires to turn himself to the path of good and be righteous, the choice is his. Should he desire to turn to the path of evil and be wicked, the choice is his.

This is [the intent of] the Torah's statement: " Behold man has become unique in the world, by himself can know good and evil," i.e., the human species became singular in the world with no other species resembling it in the following quality: that man can, on his own initiative, with his knowledge and thought, know good and evil, and do what he desires. There is no one who can prevent him from doing good or bad. Accordingly, [there was a need to drive him from the Garden of Eden,] "lest he stretch out his hand [and take from the tree of life]."

Yet even once this verse is interpreted within the context of free will, its purpose and intent remain very unclear. Rambam proceeds to argue that free will is a fundamental pillar upon which the Torah relies. If people were compelled to act a certain way, he explains, there would be no place for God revealing a set of rules which would be the basis for reward and punishment.

But surely all that is required to justify commands, reward and punishment is that people are not compelled and can freely to choose whether to follow God’s word? Is it really necessary to bring in this verse to imply that humans also possess their autonomous moral compass to evaluate right and wrong? Would Rambam not expect a person to obey God’s law even in a situation in which he or she does not understand them to be morally correct?

One discussion that this verse might shed light on is the status of those who have not been exposed to the Torah or even the seven Noachide laws which are sometimes suggested to represent a basic universal moral code. There is no explicit mention of God revealing any set of laws to humanity prior to the Sinai revelation. Nevertheless, it is apparent that God expects certain minimal standards of moral conduct and punishes those such as the generation of the flood and citizens of Sodom for their corruption, cruelty and immorality. Indeed, Rambam in Hilchot Melachim (8:10) seems to consider Noachide laws to be binding upon all non-Jews. Perhaps the justification for this arises from Onkelos and Rambam’s interpretation of this verse to imply that humanity possesses its own moral compass and is therefore responsible for its own actions even without any form of divine command?

Many further perplexing questions remain. How, for example, do Onkelos and Rambam explain the cryptic continuation of the verse – that humanity’s newfound moral compass poses a danger “lest he stretch forth his hand and take also from the Tree of Life and eat and live forever”? And is this interpretation to be reconciled with Rambam’s interpretation of the Eden episode found in an early chapter of Moreh Nevuchim, in which “tov vera” represent the negative result of Adam and Eve’s sin – the corruption of their previous praised ability to perceive absolute truths (emet vasheker)?

One possible explanation is that, according to Rambam, humanity’s moral compass in its post-sin state could now also go very badly wrong due to it having internalised harmful imaginative and emotive elements. It is noteworthy that Rambam also follows Onkelos in rendering the Serpent’s promise to Eve as being that:

“on the day that you eat thereof, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like political leaders (ravravei), knowing tov vera."

In this new post-sin scenario, in which the human mind could concoct and persuade itself of the merits of destructive political philosophies such as communism or fascism, a safety valve of mortality had to be placed within its societies. No dictator could be allowed to enslave a society perpetually. God was now therefore concerned “lest he stretch forth his hand and take also from the Tree of Life and eat and live forever”.

First posted on Facebook 19 October 2022, here.

Humans, demons and the depths of depravity

The indescribably brutal terrorist atrocities inflicted on Israeli communities a week ago are the sort of unfathomable events which leave many of us lost for words, despairing of humanity and the depths to which it is capable of plummeting.

Can people ever sink to such depths of depravity that they effectively lose their humanity? Or worse?

Such questions prompted me to recall a passage that I wrote in Judaism Reclaimed.

In yesterday’s parashah, the Torah describes Adam’s son Shet as being in the image of Adam — a term which Rambam (Moreh 1:7) links to the earlier description of Adam as having been created "betzelem Elokim" (in the image of God). Rambam then cites a Gemara which states that, from the moment of his sin until the birth of Shet, Adam bore offspring which were not in his image but rather were "ruchot" or demons.

Tzelem Elokim — the element of humanity that can be said to be Godly — is identified with the intellect. It is through this uniquely human intelligence that people can make moral judgments to distinguish right from wrong, subdue their negative impulses and thereby direct their sophisticated intellectual capabilities so as to benefit the world around them.

In Rambam’s understanding, those who fail in their human calling to use their intellect to refine and control the animalistic aspects of their personality are considered behema betzurat adam (an animal in human form) rather than betzelem Elokim. Membership of this unesteemed group therefore can cause people to forfeit their human privileges such as divine providence and a share in the World to Come.

Far worse than this, however, are those who take this divine gift to humanity of a powerful intellect and use it to subdue and terrorise others. As history repeatedly demonstrates, the greatest misery and hardship experienced by mankind is caused by people who have used their intellect to devise ways of furthering human suffering. These are the sorts of “demons” that, in Rambam’s understanding of the Gemara, were said to have been sired by Adam prior to Shet. It can be presumed that Rambam would offer a similar interpretation of Talmudic accounts of demons who dwell in uninhabited areas, damage unguarded buildings, and attack those who travel unaccompanied at night.

Humans who have fallen to such depths might be viewed as even worse than animals who typically only catch and kill prey out of necessity.

Notwithstanding all this, Rabbi Yisrael Lau – Holocaust survivor and former Chief Rabbi of Israel – warns strongly against the inclination to regard these evil and brutal acts as the work of some kind of “inhuman monsters from another world. In his Out Of The Depths memoir, Rabbi Lau records his own passionate response to one of the witnesses from the Eichmann trial:

“If Auschwitz were indeed another planet, it would be easier to accept the Holocaust. But in truth, the disaster of Auschwitz is that it happened on the very same planet where we had lived before, where we live now, and where we will continue to live. Those who carried out the cruel murders of the innocent where ordinary people, who returned home from their murderous acts to water the flowers in their manicured gardens. They tended the flowers lovingly and carefully so they would blossom, just after they had torn infants to pieces and shattered the skulls of men and women.

Just after shoving thousands of people into the gas chambers to their deaths, they came home to play with dolls together with their little girls, and listen to classical music, eyes closed, engrossed in the uplifting spirituality of Bach and Beethoven…Those were people just like you and me, and that’s the whole problem. When you transfer all those horrors to another planet, you minimise the issue. You are saying that something like the Holocaust can never happen to us again. In my humble opinion, you are wrong…”

In responding to such an outrage – as we must – with full force, we must retain a clear and unrelenting distinction between our use of military power and that of our enemies. Despite the best efforts of foreign media and anti-Semitic critics abroad to blur the boundaries.

On the one hand we have those who idealise the power of the sword and turn it into a national ideology. Describing the traits that typify Amalek, Rabbi S. R. Hirsch writes that it bore a spirit which:

“chooses the sword as its lot, seeks renown in laurels of blood, and strives to realise the ambition of “Let us make for ourselves a name” with which Nimrod began world history. This ambition is realised by destroying the welfare of nations and the happiness of men.

This seeking renown by the force of arms is the first and last enemy of human happiness and Divine Kingship on earth…Amalek’s glory-seeking sword knows no rest as long as one free man’s heart keeps beating and pays no homage to it; as long as one modest abode and happy home remains standing whose residents do not tremble before its might.”

We must remember that our messianic utopia is not a bloodletting of our enemies – it is being privileged to live in a world peace – among nations – in such security that weapons will no longer be necessitated. While we must be uncompromising in responding to such attacks in order to wipe out the evil in our midst, we long for an era in which our swords can be beaten into ploughshares…

The Jewish use of military power, on the other hand is that of a necessary evil. A war to root out evil or defend ourselves against enemies is a great mitzva. But we truly years for a time when the world embraces the truths and teachings of God so that “no nation will lift up sword against nation” and allowing us therefore to beat our swords into plowshares, and our spears into pruning hook.

Until then we continue to pray for the protection of our soldiers in battle, the full healing of our wounded and the return of our captured brethren.

First posted on Facebook 15 October 2023, here.