Grief, joy and the agony of absence

The Torah as an eternal treasure and guidebook of the Jewish people has constantly demonstrated its ability to offer new inspiration and wisdom as it is reread in each generation. As we enter a highly-charged period of weeks (and perhaps months) in which our nation will experience a complex cocktail of conflicting emotions – joy, grief, fear and frustration – I sat down to review a particularly poignant passage of the Torah with a new perspective. A perspective from the last 15 months in which hundreds of faces of people who had previously been strangers now plaster public areas and inhabit the deepest recesses of our minds; whose families’ unbearable pain and suffering is never far from our thoughts even when we temporarily turn our minds to other mundane matters.

In the opening weeks of the war I attended a gathering at the Kotel of shell-shocked hostage families where we prayed and cried together and tried to find words of support to somehow strengthen those vacant faces suffering unimaginable pain. Pain, and anguish which many of those who I stood with that day have now been suffering for well over a year.

In recent weeks we read once again the episode of Yosef’s 17-year disappearance, the unending grief of an inconsolable Ya’akov and, finally, the tear-filled reunion in Egypt. Having been informed of his son’s disappearance we are told that Ya’akov refused to be comforted; in Rashi’s telling he had a strong intuition that his son was still alive – somewhere – with no idea how or where he was being held, lacking any notion of how to begin to search for him. Unable to grieve or move on with his life, Ya’akov is stuck in a never-ending hell. Barely believing he would see his beloved son again – as he later tells him: “to see your face I never considered possible” – yet unable to set his mind on anything else.

When Ya’akov was eventually informed that his son is alive and that he will reunite with him, his heart skipped a beat in this moment of overwhelming emotion and his “spirit lived again”. Yet a careful reading of the text reveals that he was forever scarred by the experience.

Pharaoh is clearly impacted by Ya’akov’s age and appearance asking him “how many are the days of the years of your life?”. Ya’akov replies “few and bad have been the days of the years of my dwelling”. This strange combination of words is often taken to show that righteous people utilize each and every day of their life. But I believe there is more going on here. While Pharaoh inquires of the length of Ya’akov’s “life”, Ya’akov responds that his “dwelling” has been bad. Rav S. R. Hirsch interprets this to imply that he has not fully lived for much of this time – just dwelt and existed. I would add that the “days of the years” of his life can be taken to mean that each and every day of the years of his life was a separate source of agony and suffering.

As for the moment of reunion itself, the account is both simple and profound. Reading the verses of the Torah we see Ya’akov and Yosef embracing and crying on each other’s shoulders. The overpowering emotion of the moment transcends speech or attempts to capture their thoughts and feelings in words. Digging below the surface, however, we find Rashi citing a tradition that Ya’akov “recited Keriat Shema”.

Whether or not we understand this to refer to a literal recitation of the words, I believe that it encapsulates the religious response to this overwhelming and sensitive moment. The unfathomable joy mixed with the painful realisation that they have lost so many years together – Ya’akov struggles to recognise and relate to Yosef’s new position and family. How can they even begin to understand the role and possible purpose of God in such difficult and complex times – especially while experiencing such powerful emotions. The midrash appears to be teaching the correct response – Shema represents accepting the yoke of Heaven. Accepting and pronouncing that, whether or not we can understanding why things occur or what God’s plan might be, we can have the humility and clear-headedness to recognise that there is a greater plan and a higher wisdom at play.

With such a response, Ya’akov as our forefather has embodied a fundamental example which has guided his persecuted descendants through to this very day.

This post specifically wants to avoid the complex and ongoing debate over the wisdom of the hostage deal, recognizing the very legitimate concerns over the dangers and threat that it creates – there are plenty of places on Facebook and elsewhere where this has, is and will continue to be debated.

For comments and discussion of this post on Facebook, click here.

The mysterious accompanying angels on Friday night

Responding to Yosef’s provocative telling of his dreams and in the broader context of fratricidal strife, Ya’akov’s response appears measured and controlled: “and his father shamar et hadavar”. But how exactly is this response to be understood?

The simplest meaning of the word “shamar” means to guard: that Ya’akov sensed that there was more to Yosef’s dream than youthful delusions of grandeur and leadership that the brothers attributed to him. Nevertheless, wanting to avoid further conflict (and perhaps being somewhat unsure as to the precise implications of the dreams), Ya’akov opted to remain silent at this juncture and to keep his thoughts to himself. His efforts do not appear to be wholly successful with the subsequent passage seeing an almost fatal escalation of his sons’ deep disagreement.

Rashi, however, does not pursue this line of interpretation. Instead, he provides biblical precedent for a rarer rendering of the term “shamar” – explaining it to mean “looked forward to” and “anticipate”. This approach carries a stronger implication that Ya’akov was fully aware of the message of Yosef’s dream – the primary reaction being excitement and anticipation rather than caution and concealment.

On a weekend away a few years ago in the north of Israel, I found myself unwittingly gatecrashing a Barmitzvah party at which the speaker linked Rashi’s interpretation to another biblical verse containing this term: Veshamru Benei Yisrael et HaShabbat La’asot et haShabbat ledoratam – The Jews shall guard Shabbat, making the Shabbat and everlasting covenant throughout the generations. The speaker suggested that the term “vashmru” in this verse can be interpreted as Rashi interprets Ya’akov’s response: How can the Jewish people ensure that their children and future generations observe the Shabbat covenant? By looking forward to it excitedly. By making it a focal point of their family’s activity and attention.

My initial thought was that this was a nice drash which allowed the speaker to tie together several disparate ideas that he wanted to mention in connection with the celebrating family. Reviewing a section of Rambam’s Moreh Nevuchim recently, however, I started to wonder if this suggestion might have firmer basis in our tradition.

The Talmud (Shabbat 119b) teaches that:

Rabbi Jose the son of Judah said, two ministering angels — one good angel, and one "evil" angel — accompany a person home on Friday night from the synagogue. When they arrive home, if they find a candle lit, the table set, and beds arranged nicely, the good angel says, "May it be G‑d's will that next Shabbat be the same," and the evil angel is compelled to respond, "Amen!" Otherwise, [if the home is not prepared in honour of Shabbat,] the evil angel says, "May it be God’s will that next Shabbat be the same," and the good angel is compelled to respond, "Amen”.

Comparing this passage to other similar accounts of accompanying angels, Rambam identifies these angels as none other than the good and evil inclinations which motivate people to act in a positive or negative manner.

This passage would appear to be underlining the great importance of preparing for and anticipating the Shabbat as well as a vital lesson in the nature of our free will and character training. Each time we make a correct choice, we have not only performed a single good act. Rather, as Rav Dessler teaches, we move along our future “window of choice” by training ourselves to act well on subsequent occasions.

What these angels may represent, therefore, is that if the person has suitably prepared for and anticipated the Shabbat, this will affect his character and the proper behaviour will become internalised as part of his nature. The “evil angel” will therefore be “forced” to answer Amen to the prediction that the person will be drawn to prepare properly again for the next Shabbat. If the pattern continues, this mode of conduct is likely to be observed by his children and become “an everlasting covenant throughout the generations”. The opposite of course is also true.

Finally, there are those who object – on Maimonidean grounds – to petitioning the angels to bless them in the Shalom Aleichem song. I wonder if a correct understanding of Rambam’s interpretation of this Gemara indicates that this is little more than a statement of hope that the Shabbat home and table has been prepared sufficiently to meet angelic approval – and that his good inclination will gain the upper hand ahead of the next weeks’ showdown.

For comments and discussion of this post on Facebook click here.

Vayeshev: free will, divine providence and human suffering

The chapters of Judaism Reclaimed which relate to parashat Vayeshev take their lead from the episode of Yosef’s incarceration at the conclusion of the parashah. Yosef is clearly no ordinary detainee; the Torah attests to the fact that God inspires popularity and ensures success for him even within the prison walls. Nevertheless, the closing comment of Rashi on the parashah cites a perplexing midrash that criticizes Yosef for his attempt to secure freedom through the intercession of Pharaoh’s newly-freed butler rather than relying on God -- an attempt which would cost him an extra two years behind bars.

The Chazon Ish (Emunah uBitachon) suggests that Yosef’s fault lay in seeking an escape route which offered only a remote prospect of success, given the unsavoury nature of the butler’s character. Yosef’s reliance on the butler’s willingness to stand up before the royal court and petition Pharaoh on his behalf thus represented desperation, an act of someone who is panicking and who will resort even to far-fetched attempts to escape his troubles.

If we judge Yosef’s request to the butler to be an act of panic and desperation, however, we then face a further question: Since Yosef’s success in prison demonstrated that he was the beneficiary of significant Divine assistance, was it not reasonable for him to anticipate that God would influence the butler to speak up for him before the royal household? This question leads into a broader exploration of the respective roles and potential conflict between the doctrines of free will and Divine Providence.

We note Rambam’s statement in Hilchot Teshuvah that the functioning of human free will is so fundamental that it is considered a “pillar of the Torah” that, if God decreed human action ,“what use would the entire Torah be?” Divine Providence more typically takes the form of inspiring or fortifying the individual concerned, rather than interfering with the free will of any protagonist.

Two examples of this can be found in the Or HaChaim’s commentary to the episode of Yosef and his brothers. When Yosef imprisons the brothers, they do not initially attribute this to Divine censure, considering instead that it may be the result of God permitting the operation of the viceroy’s free will. Even more explicit is the interpretation by several commentators of the brothers’ decision to cast Yosef into a pit – which could allow Divine Providence to determine his fate - rather than to kill him directly. Had the brothers succeeded in murdering Yosef this could not have been seen as proof of his guilt (“Let us see what will be of his dreams”) since, to quote Netziv, “human free will is more powerful than Higher Providence”.

These explanations may make it easier to understand why it may have been unreasonable for Yosef to expect that God would influence the free will of the butler to speak up before Pharaoh.

Finally, we use the paramount importance of allowing the functioning of human free will in order to address an age-old problem: why does God permit evil and suffering to exist?

Rambam proposes that all evil in the world belongs to one of three categories. The first is the disintegration of physicality. God chose to construct a world which could operate by itself through perpetual, dynamic, and self-regulating rules of nature [we examine in a later chapter why God may have opted for this over miraculous micro-management]. Within these parameters of God’s will the world, including human bodies, necessarily contains an element of disintegration and decay which causes suffering. The majority of suffering however can be attributed to the free functioning of human free will as discussed above and, lastly, to unwise and unhealthy lifestyle choices.

These three categories are necessary consequences of the implementation of God’s plan for a physical world in which humans have free will. Nevertheless, this suffering can sometimes be mitigated through Hashgachah Pratit (individual Providence), which a person can attain by developing a connection to God.

A fuller analysis of how Rambam approaches the concept of Providence appears in the following chapter.

First posted on Facebook 18 December 2019, here.

Miketz: inspired dreams and prophetic insights

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Miketz traces a pattern of events in which God manipulates Yosef's destiny by means of mysterious dreams. Initially it was Yosef himself who received two dreams which indicated his future rise to authority over his brothers and even his father. Then, in Egypt, Pharaoh’s servants and eventually Pharaoh himself were troubled by dreams which only Yosef could interpret. What exactly is the nature of these dreams, and how are they to be distinguished from standard prophecy?

It appears from the commentators that there are three distinct categories of dreams. First there are regular 'frivolous' dreams, which are a synthesis of the mind's images and ideas drawn from the dreamer’s previous conscious states. Then there are chalomot tzodkot, meaningful dreams such as those which were divinely inspired in Yosef's story. Finally, there are dreams that contain prophecy and which are treated as an entirely different order of experience.

Or Hachaim explains that a 'meaningful dream', which is indicated in the Torah by use of the word "vehineh”, consists of an extremely vivid and lucid dream-experience. In addition, it must be unambiguously clear to the dreamer that there exists a deeper, hidden meaning which he will instantly recognise as correct at the moment it is suggested to him. This mechanism of instant recognition is seen in the responses of Pharaoh and his servants to Yosef's proposed interpretations, and even more dramatically in Sefer Daniel by Nebuchadnezzar's reaction when Daniel first related the content of the dream to him and then proceeded to interpret it. In each of these cases the dreamer, profoundly disturbed by his experience, enthusiastically embraces the correct resolution as soon as it is offered.

The distinction between frivolous and meaningful dreams is highlighted in a fascinating explanation by Netziv of the behaviour of Yosef's brothers in response to his dreams. The brothers initially respond with hatred to what they assume to be 'frivolous’ dreams, reflections of the delusions of grandeur which, they believed, Yosef had been harbouring during his waking hours. However, their father Ya'akov takes the dreams seriously: an indication that they are divinely inspired. At this point the brothers’ hatred (“vayisne’u”) gives way to jealousy ("vayekanu") as they are forced to concede Yosef's superiority but nonetheless struggle to come to terms with it.

A greater challenge is posed by the need to understand the differences between divinely-inspired dreams and genuine prophecy. In an extensive analysis which spans a full eleven chapters of Moreh Nevuchim, Rambam explains the nature of divine inspiration and revelation, focusing on the differing aspects of the mind and soul. He makes a crucial distinction between the 'dimyon'(imagination) and the 'sechel'(intellect): the imagination is part of the 'lower neshamah' which governs a person's interactions with the physical world, while the intellect is the 'tzelem Elokim' — the Godly component through which human comprehension can transcend the physical world.

The special dreams which feature throughout Yosef's elevation to power are divinely-inspired experiences, emerging primarily from the imagination rather than from the pure intellect. Divine inspiration does not only provide and influence the details of such an experience; it also creates a feeling of certainty that the dream is 'true' and requires an explanation.

Prophecy, by contrast, is experienced primarily by the intellect, providing a profound insight into God's truths and how they relate to His running of the world. Since God has no physicality, nothing experienced (or imagined to have been experienced) through the medium of any of the five physical senses can constitute a genuine 'Godly experience'. Rambam describes instead how a person who has developed his intellect and character becomes a receptacle into which God‘s 'shefa Eloki' can be directed. By receiving this shefa, the prophet transcends the limitations of the human intellect and gains Godly knowledge.

In most biblical prophecies, this knowledge relates to God's attitude towards specific events and religious or political aspects of the world, and the prophet becomes aware of a correct course of action. Absorption of this Godly knowledge can also grant the prophet knowledge of the future, since God's knowledge is not bound by time. Even where the imagination is engaged in a prophecy through the receipt of prophetic visions, this is merely to assist the prophet's understanding of the truth or message. Thus the explanation of the vision – the divine message being communicated – is always the primary component of the prophecy.

The chapter proceeds to analyse further Rambam’s understanding of prophecy, with a specific focus on the unique nature of Moshe’s prophecy and the ways in which Rambam’s understanding of prophecy signals a significant departure from Aristotle’s worldview.

First posted to Facebook 24 December 2019, here.