Wrestling with angels, or was it all in the mind?

One of the most significant disputes among commentators to the book of Bereishit involves a forceful debate as to the nature of angels: can they take on physical form and enter the human realm or are they solely celestial creatures whose interaction with the world is far more complex. Judaism Reclaimed takes a deep-dive into this subject, showing that the implications of this argument go well beyond questions of peshat – they have deep theological and philosophical ramifications which affect the whole framework for understanding physical and spiritual co-existence.

Angels make an apparent entry into early biblical episodes as visitors to Avraham’s tent and destructive agents to overturn Sodom; in yesterday’s Torah reading another mysterious heavenly figure intrudes into the narrative to spar with the isolated Ya’akov. In the more kabbalistic approach of Ramban, the physical and spiritual domains more flexibly interact and interplay, and the notion of angelic beings donning physical attire to enter the world of humans is therefore less of a challenge. For Rambam, by contrast, physicality and spirituality are two wholly distinct realms of existence: celestial beings cannot trespass the sub-lunar sphere however brief and specific the purpose of their travel. Angelic interactions in the Torah for Rambam, therefore, are to be explained as prophetic visions rather than otherworldly wanderings.

While on level of simple peshat, Ramban adheres more closely to the apparent meaning of the biblical text, Abarbanel sees the Rambam’s approach as representing a far deeper and more profound biblical message and reality. As explained by Micha Goodman in Maimonides and the book which changed Judaism, “turning story into allegory by placing it in the category of prophetic vision strengthens its meaning and transforms it from an isolated event into a universal truth”. Abarbanel duly declares himself to be “astonished” at Ramban’s opposition to Rambam’s explanation of angelic encounters in the Torah.

The universal truths being conveyed to Avraham in his angelic visitation are understood by Rambam to be extremely profound – he outlines them briefly in the middle of some of his most complex discussion (Moreh 2:5) of how angels (the spiritual messengers through which God implements His Will in the physical world) interact with one another to fulfil their sometimes conflicting tasks.

Perceptively, Rambam anticipates the difficulty which people might have with his teachings on the subject of angels, writing (Moreh 1:49):

“Now you already know that it is very hard for man to comprehend, except after strenuous effort, that which is pure of matter and absolutely devoid of corporeality … that which lies beyond the scope of the imagination is in his opinion non-existent and incapable of existing.”

This being the case, the Torah’s text refers to angels using language

“the external implication of which can be understood to signify that the angels are corporeal … so as to guide the mind to a knowledge of their existence … as we have explained with regard to God.”

But what are we to make of the angelic streetfighter – seemingly representing Eisav – who sparred with Ya’akov in yesterday’s reading?

“Ya’akov remained alone, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.”

A perceptive and fascinating suggestion is offered by Rabbi Ari Kahn in Explorations – his highly recommended book of parashah insights. It is interesting to note, he observes, that while Ya’akov reaches an understanding with Eisav, he is unable to avoid battle with His representative angel. Furthermore, if Ya’akov is truly “alone”, with whom can he be wrestling? The answer, suggests Rabbi Kahn, is that Ya’akov is struggling with himself – a profound inner battle over his true identity.

The backstory can perhaps be traced to the respective roles of Ya’akov and Eisav. Yitzchak had clung to the hope that Eisav would prove worthy of inclusion in the Abrahamic covenant – taking care of the worldly concerns of his studious “dweller in tent” brother. Rivka, however, perceived that such a partnership could not flourish: Eisav was simply not up to the task as seen in his “scorning” of the spiritual values represented by the Firstborn status. Ya’akov was therefore sent away to his amoral uncle Lavan where he was to get his hands (and conscience) dirty learning the hard realities of build families and flocks in tough surroundings.

Returning from Lavan with a growing family and weighed down by his wealth, on the one hand Ya’akov can be said to have succeeded in his task. Yet left alone at the river crossing, Ya’akov gazes at his reflection in the water and suddenly wonders “Who am I?”.

Notably, Eisav had previously sworn to kill his younger brother. When they are reunited after their many years apart Eisav suddenly and surprisingly embraces Ya’akov and proposes that they join forces. Eisav believes that he may have lost the battle over his father’s blessing – but he has won the war. Ya’akov has apparently dispensed with his scholarly pursuits and entered Eisav’s world of amassing worldly bounty. He now hopes that they will join forces for material rather than spiritual aims.

Similar thoughts are troubling Ya’akov as he struggles desperately with his “inner Eisav” and strives for ideological clarity. The “Ish” he wrestles with is seemingly the one described a few chapters earlier (30:43): 

“And the man [ISH] became exceedingly wealthy, and he had prolific animals, and maidservants and manservants, and camels and donkeys.”

Happily, the episode has an instructive ending – and a profound message is thereby conveyed by the biblical text. The resolution to this struggle seems to be found when Eisav’s spiritual representative strikes Ya’akov’s thigh which slows down his progress and his physical success but does not entirely end it. Ya’akov proceeds at a slower pace than Eisav but has been spiritually renewed and enriched. Tellingly, upon reaching his destination, he builds “Sukkot” – temporary shelters – for his flocks and wealth but for himself and his spiritual pursuits he constructs a permanent structure of a house.

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Maimonidean middot: how Rambam relates to character development

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Vayishlach explores various religious dimensions of interpersonal mitzvot. The parashah certainly provides several potent examples for examining questionable character traits, including Shimon and Levi’s massacre of Shechem and the inappropriate actions of Reuven. While Ya’akov initially rebukes Shimon and Levi for their political miscalculation, it is only later on his death bed that he highlights the character flaws that lay behind his sons’ sins in this parashah.

What, however, is the significance of negative character traits within the Maimonidean understanding of Judaism? Rambam describes how the element of humanity which transcends physicality and can connect to God for eternity is purely the intellect (sechel). How then does he explain the great religious significance placed on character development?

On a basic level, Rambam understands that proper intellectual development is premised upon the person having first achieved a properly balanced set of character traits. As he explains in Hilchot De’ot, each correct 'de'ah' (or ‘character trait’) is the optimal path between two extremes. Over-indulgence and abstinence, brazenness and timidity, generosity and miserliness are all sets of harmful extremes between which a middle path of balance must be navigated. A crucial precondition for the intellect’s ability to function properly, however, is the correct balance of all aspects of the soul. Each imbalanced trait creates a 'mechitzah' — an interference from the physical realm — which weakens the ability of the intellect to grasp and internalise divine truths. This explains why Rambam insists that prophecy, the highest state of the intellect, cannot be found among people with undeveloped character traits, and "not with those who are lazy, sad, frivolous or light-headed".

Rambam relates this teaching to a central theme in the Torah, the repeated demand that we are to “walk in God’s ways” – explained by Rambam in Hilchot De’ot to refer to the intermediate path between extremes in order to facilitate the greatest possible intellectual connection to God. But is it really satisfactory to limit the role of character development in Judaism to a facilitatory role? To a pre-condition for intellectual perfection? This does not appear to be the approach of the sages, who interpret the very same verse of “walking in God’s ways” to refer to positive emulation of God’s actions: “Just as He is Merciful so must you be merciful”.

We note how the conclusion of the Moreh Nevuchim implies a far more positive role for character development. Moving beyond the correct balancing of traits found in Hilchot De’ot, we find that a far more substantive emulation of God is implied by "walking in God’s ways". According to this section, a person's ultimate purpose is to internalise "chessed, mishpat and tzedakah" (kindness, justice and charity). We explore some profound ideas of Rabbis S. R. Hirsch and Joseph B. Soloveitchik as to how the Torah’s teachings of “loving one’s fellow as oneself” do not merely require certain kind actions to be performed. Rather, at their ideal level, they challenge the actor to transform his or her entire perspective of the world in order to view it from beyond the selfish interests and biases of their own personal needs and requirements (more on this here). Thus kindness and character development can have a direct and impact on one’s intellectual development.

These two dimensions of character development and kindness within Rambam’s understanding of Judaism can also be seen in their separate halachic sources. The first chapter of Hilchot De’ot focuses on a person’s need to balance his or her traits correctly strictly in terms of facilitating one’s own intellectual development:

“The straight path: This [involves discovering] the midpoint temperament of each and every trait that man possesses [within his personality.] This refers to the trait which is equidistant from either of the extremes, without being close to either of them. Therefore, the early Sages instructed a man to evaluate his traits, to calculate them and to direct them along the middle path…We are commanded to walk in these intermediate paths - and they are good and straight paths - as [Deuteronomy 28:9] states: "And you shall walk in His ways."”

Elsewhere in his legal writings, however, Rambam discloses the second dimension of character perfection – the requirement to focus on and care for the other:

“It is a positive commandment of Rabbinic origin to visit the sick, comfort mourners, to prepare for a funeral, prepare a bride, accompany guests, attend to all the needs of a burial, carry a corpse on one's shoulders, walk before the bier, mourn, dig a grave, and bury the dead, and also to bring joy to a bride and groom and help them in all their needs. These are deeds of kindness that one carries out with his person that have no limit. Although all these mitzvot are of Rabbinic origin, they are included in the Scriptural commandment Leviticus 19:18: "Love your neighbor as yourself." That charge implies that whatever you would like other people to do for you, you should do for your comrade in the Torah and mitzvot.” [Avel 14:1]

Each act of kindness that a person performs is therefore operating simultaneously on two levels. Both on the “between man and God” dimension – of improving one’s personal traits and thereby allowing the intellect to flourish. And, at the same time, caring for the other, learning to view the world through the perspective of other people’s needs rather than one’s own subjective and ultimately selfish outlook. In this way, one can develop a more divine perspective of the world and truly start to “walk in God’s ways”.

First posted on Facebook 18 November 2021, here.