Somewhere over the Rambam? The peculiarities of rainbows in Jewish thought

Towards the end of last week, in the midst of Israel’s much anticipated rainy season, this image from Bat Yam was a striking ray of beauty in what has been a dark and gloomy horizon for much of the past 16 months. But being a product of the Jewish school system I immediately started to ponder the significance – if any – of this rainbow. And to wonder if my gazing at the picture in front of me even was permitted and appropriate!

The first appearance of a rainbow in the Torah is as a symbolic accompaniment to God’s covenant with Noach, in order to reinforce His commitment that such universal destruction will not be revisited on humanity. Ramban(!) comments on the relevant verse that we are bound to accept the scientific conclusions of the Greeks and that we can therefore be confident that the rainbow is a natural phenomenon which would have appeared many times previous to Noach’s generation. Ramban then notes the past tense presentation of the verse: “My rainbow I have placed in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of a covenant between Me and the Earth” (9:13). The significance, he notes, is that God was designating a pre-existing natural phenomenon as bearing newfound symbolic significance – much the same, writes Rabbi S. R. Hirsch, as the moon would later be imbued with symbolic significance of renewal and freedom immediately prior to the Exodus.

The rainbow’s profound symbolic significance led to a deep dichotomy over how it should be viewed – or whether it may be viewed at all! On the one hand, as with all displays of natural wonder and beauty, the Talmud formulates a blessing to be recited by one who sees it. On the other hand, the Talmud (Chagigah 16a) also records that one should avoid looking at the rainbow altogether, as doing so represents a “lack of concern for one’s Creator’s glory” – the rainbow, it is important to note, is used to describe aspects of the divine chariot in Yechezkel’s Merkavah vision. The Shulchan Aruch attempts to reconcile these two teachings, writing that one may glimpse briefly at a rainbow in order to make the blessing. More sustained gazing, however, is not permitted.

When we move to look at the Rambam’s approach to this question, however, it is striking that he omits any mention of a prohibition to gaze at a rainbow. Commenting on this glaring omission, the notes in the Makbili edition of the Moreh Nevuchim point out that Rambam interprets the rainbow description in the Merkavah vision allegorically to represent the process of prophecy. This being aptly alluded to by a beautiful yet constant projection of light which is perceived differently depending on the eye of the beholder (no two people see a rainbow identically!).

In Rambam’s understanding, therefore, it seems likely that the aggadic injunction against feasting one’s eyes on a rainbow does not pose any contradiction to the Talmudic instruction to recite a blessing over it. Rather it is likely a manifestation of another similarly presented Talmudic caution to be “concerned for the honour of one’s Creator” – in the first Mishnah of Chagigah – which relates to the attempt to explore theological questions that the human mind is incapable of understanding. In this explanation, staring inquisitively and uninhibitedly at the prophetic process represented by the rainbow appears to be the equivalent of the “Nobles of Israel” who “stared at a vision of the God and ate and drank” thus incurring divine wrath.

Given that I never seem to be able to recall the lengthy and cumbersome wording of this blessing, it is fortunate that my recent exposure to the Bat Yam rainbow was limited to an image on my screen. Yet there is an important lesson to be gleaned even from this awkward wording. It emerges from the Talmudic discussion on the topic that this wording is the result of a compromise – a combination of blessings proposed by two different rabbis. At a time when social media posts and discussions frequently and quickly descend into a cesspit of name-calling, finger-pointing and insults, it is important to remind ourselves of the necessary – even if maddeningly difficult – price of compromise and unity, even at the expense of an inconveniently worded utterance. Perhaps this is the most important lesson that the rainbow can come to symbolize.

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The hallowed Jewish tradition of ignoring prophets

On a number of occasions I have heard rabbinic speakers bemoaning how, in the diminished spiritual state of our era, we lack the clear guidance and inspiration of prophets. If only, they claim, we could be exposed to the communications of figures such as Shmuel, Yeshayahu and Yirmiyah – we would enthusiastically rush to perform God’s authenticated word.

This got me wondering: despite Jewish tradition’s nostalgic yearning to “renew our days as of old”, our track record for hearkening to the prophetic word was pretty poor then and is little better now.

Our parasha this week grapples with the task of how to authenticate a putative prophet. As Judaism Reclaimed demonstrates, the application of this authentication process was not always so clear in practice. Yirmiyah in particular appears to have been subject to accusations that he was a false prophet – unsurprisingly the royal court identified its own alternative prophets who communicated messages more favourable to the king. Nor was Yirmiyah the only prophet to be persecuted, Eliyahu and prophets in his era were exiled and even killed in the days of Ahab and Jezebel.

While those episodes might be dismissed as isolated actions of particularly sinful individuals, it would seem from the words of the prophets themselves that significant portions of what we might regard as the “observant” Israelites were not receptive to their teachings:

Of what use are your many sacrifices to Me? says the Lord. You shall no longer bring vain meal-offerings, it is smoke of abomination to Me; New Moons and Sabbaths, calling convocations, I cannot [bear] iniquity with assembly. Everyone loves bribes and runs after payments; the orphan they do not judge, and the quarrel of the widow does not come to them. Learn to do good, seek justice, strengthen the robbed, perform justice for the orphan, plead the case of the widow.

(Taken from Chap. 1 of Yeshaya)

In biblical times as today, people tended to gravitate to religion to provide mysterious and spiritual rites rather than the moral guidance emphasized in prophetic teachings as bearing primary importance. The impression that we get from the repeated and frustrated prophetic protestations is that they had a hard time getting people to take their message seriously and apply it to their lives.

So, we can ask ourselves, even assuming that we could identify and authenticate a contemporary prophet, how enthusiastic would our communities be to implement his teachings?

The answer in many parts of the observant world is apparent from the way in which we treat the existing prophetic teachings which have been part of our Tanakh for thousands of years and selected by our sages to be read as Haftarot on important days:

Will such be the fast I will choose, a day of man's afflicting his soul? Is it to bend his head like a fishhook and spread out sackcloth and ashes? Is this not the fast I will choose? To undo the fetters of wickedness, to untie the bands of perverseness, and to let out the oppressed free, and all perverseness you shall eliminate. Is it not to share your bread with the hungry…

Yes, we may read in the above passage on Yom Kippur that God values honesty and charity ahead of ritual worship – but how many of us have really internalized and absorbed the message that we should be obsessing over our treatment of the downtrodden rather than details of the Yom Kippur fast?

As my friend Uzi Weingarten pointed out to me, our flawed value system is reflected by the very terminologies that we tend to employ, and the extent to which we identify various forms of sinners as part of our religious communities. While those who do not observe ritual laws such as Shabbat to a standard that we approve are considered “irreligious” or “unorthodox”, it is unfortunately common to refer to one who is jailed for fraud or tax evasion as a “frum person in jail”. Sometimes we even find such people being praised for their observance of Kashrut or Torah study during their time in jail. This could not be in sharper contrast to the values of Yeshaya quoted above.

On reflection, perhaps the sudden appearance of a true prophet of God would not be a quick fix – a magic wand which would instantly inspire our righteousness and repentance. We cannot be certain when the era of prophecy will be renewed. All that we can do in the meantime is to draw our own value system closer to that which was taught by the ancient prophets of Israel.

Only by being attuned and receptive to the prophetic message of old can we have any hope of ending one of the oldest Jewish traditions – that of ignoring our prophets.

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Unfulfilled prophecies and Moshe's sudden seismic shift

One of the chapters of Judaism Reclaimed that I found most intriguing to research relates to the difficult question of unfulfilled biblical prophecies, and its impact on the apparent lack of confidence in divine assurances displayed by various prophets.

In his introduction to the book of Chaggai, Malbim grapples with prophecies from the early Second Temple period which predict the imminent onset of a Messianic era. Citing a Talmudic source in support, Malbim argues that such prophecies were not intended as definitive statements of future events, rather they were contingent upon the righteous conduct of the nation in that era. Malbim’s approach to prophecy, for which we find precedents in earlier sources, is that it only discloses “what should occur if there is no sin”. Such a notion also appears to be borne out in Yirmiyah’s statement “But if it [a nation]…disobeys My voice, the I will retract the good which I had said to bestow upon it”. Such an approach holds out the prospect of resolving a number of difficulties: we find the Avot at times displaying fear and concern despite divine reassurances, Moshe at the Burning Bush reacting to God’s “I will be with you” with repeated apprehension, and Rabbi Akiva declaring that the Ten Tribes are eternally lost despite prophetic predictions of future reunification.

Rambam, however, emphatically rejects such an approach, writing that no positive prophecy can ever be withdrawn or viewed as contingent. Rambam argues that, were prophecy to be subject to uncertainty and change, this would disqualify the process of authentication of a prophet which is premised on our confidence in the accuracy of his or her predictions. This position draws additional support from Talmudic sources as well as an episode in which Yirmiyah condemns a putative prophet, Chananiah ben Azzur, as false on the basis of an inaccurate positive prediction.

I believe that the solution to these difficulties lies in an original and illuminating, yet breathtakingly simple proposal of the Maharal, based on separating prophecies into two distinct categories: Promises (“havtachot”), on the one hand, in which the prophet relays what will transpire should the recipients be found deserving of such a fate, and definitive statements of pre-ordained reality on the other in which the prophet tells of an irrevocable divine decision. Detecting which mode of prophecy is being transmitted requires a close reading of the biblical text. When the prophecy is presented in the future tense, this signifies that the predicted event is contingent on the worthiness of those involved. Other prophecies, by contrast, make use of the “prophetic past tense”, to indicate that the prophet is foretelling an unalterable and sealed divine decision.

Maharal detects his principle in the commentary of Rashi to the Covenant of the Parts. When Avraham is initially informed that his descendants will inherit the Land, he seeks reassurance “How will I know that I will inherit it?”. However, once God has stated (past tense) that “to your descendants I have given this land”, Avraham’s doubt dissipates. Rashi comments: “the word of God is as if it has been performed”.

Judaism Reclaimed uses this key to resolve difficulties in several biblical and Rabbinic passages. Most significant perhaps is the light that it shines on the perplexing dynamics between God and Moshe at the start of the book of Shemot. After being approached at the Burning Bush with the instruction to relay God’s word to Pharaoh and the Jewish people, Moshe is extremely reluctant and appears to lack confidence in the success of the mission. This despite God telling him “I will be with you”. This lack of confidence continues into parashat Va’eira until God discloses “I haveplaced you as a Master over Pharaoh”. With this prophetic statement of pre-ordained fact, Moshe’s worries evaporate, and he henceforth fearlessly confronts Pharaoh and his courtiers without a hint of concern or protest.

As an aside, I have translated the term “Elohim” very loosely as “Master” over Pharaoh. In response to Christian theologians, who have seen significance in this apparently godly description of Moshe, Rabbi S. R. Hirsch highlights the unexpected genealogical enumeration of the first three tribes that immediately precedes this verse, understanding that its purpose is to emphasise the essential humanity of Moshe. The Jewish redeemer and lawgiver was conceived and born of regular flesh and blood and distinguished by his actions rather than any innate Superhero or godly status. More on this last point in Rabbi Simi Rivka Lerner‘s excellent podcast.

First posted on Facebook 25 January 2020, 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.

Moshe's prophecy: an incomprehensible comprehension

At the conclusion of Parashat Beha’alotecha the Torah emphasises the gulf between ‘standard’ prophecy and the form received by Moshe. Prophecy in general, and the supremacy of Moshe’s perception of the divine word in particular, features strongly in all of Rambam’s primary works as he explores the precise nature of this ‘meeting of minds’ between the human and divine realm.

Rambam describes several unique features of Moshe’s prophecy, most importantly that he received God’s message directly (“panim e l panim”) rather than by means of an ‘angelic intermediary’. This direct intellectual encounter with the divine intellect granted Moshe a precise comprehension (“temunat Hashem yabit”) as opposed to the “riddles” and “dreams” that regular prophets were required to interpret. As we analyse in Judaism Reclaimed, Rambam understood the distinctive nature of Moshe’s prophecy – like all variations in prophetic ability – to be a result of his supremely balanced character traits. Each imbalanced trait is understood to create an additional “mechitzah” which impedes the prophet’s perception of God’s word. Moshe’s superior prophecy resulted from his success in perfecting all of his traits and thus removing all barriers to his comprehension.

While this explanation provides an understanding of Moshe’s distinct prophecy which is consistent with Rambam’s more rationalist natural approach to prophecy, it produces a number of further difficulties:

How are we to understand Rambam’s claim that Moshe had completely perfected his character traits? The biblical text openly discloses instances where Moshe appears to have fallen short – most notably in his anger with the people and in his lack of trust in God. Rabbinic commentaries typically expand upon these shortcomings, detailing their impact upon his ability to transmit God’s word (according to Vayikra Rabbah 13:1, three laws were hidden from Moshe, corresponding to three occasions on which he lost his temper). Can it be argued from Rambam’s perspective that these instances were all somehow justifiable? Or otherwise temporary aberrations that were not part of Moshe’s core personality? Perhaps the fact that he was “more humble than any man” meant that his personality could be completely negated and any imbalances therefore not encroach upon his intellect’s perception of God’s word?

A further question can be asked from within Rambam’s own writings. We read in Hilchot Teshuvah that all people have the ability to become “great like Moshe our teacher”. Does that mean that others can, in theory, reach his level of character perfection and, with it, prophetic perfection? If this is correct, then might the Torah’s statement -- that no prophet will arise like Moshe -- rely upon divine interference in (what Rambam regards to be) the broadly natural phenomenon of prophecy?

The discussion thus far has focused on the distinct nature of Moshe’s prophecy primarily from Rambam’s teachings in Mishneh Torahand various parts of his Commentary on the Mishnah. As is so often the case, the matter becomes significantly more complicated once we include the relevant passages of Moreh Nevuchim with its uniquely peculiar intrigue and dynamic.

Our previous post touched upon the subject of how deliberate contradictions within the Moreh are to be interpreted. The nature of Moshe’s prophecy offers another apparent example of this phenomenon, with Leo Strauss highlighting how Rambam first states that the Moreh will not discuss the nature of Moshe’s prophecy before making several considerable mentions of it in the subsequent chapters. Consistent with his broader approach to interpreting the Moreh, Strauss argues that this constitutes a ‘contradiction’ which indicates that Rambam did not truly subscribe to the ‘necessary religious belief’ of distinct Mosaic prophecy. According to this approach, the contradiction is a subtle esoteric signal to the sophisticated reader that in truth there is no superior ‘Mosaic’ religious teaching which can raise revelation over rational truth.

As in our previous post, Strauss’s theory is challenged by Prof. Marvin Fox in Interpreting Maimonides. Fox argues, among other points, that Rambam does not explain anything positive and substantial about the actual nature and functioning of Moshe’s unique prophecy. Rather, Rambam limits himself in these chapters to using Moshe’s ‘purely intellectual’ form of prophecy as a point of contrast to regular prophecy. Perhaps Rambam means to convey to his readers that – in keeping with other complex components of the Maimonidean system – we are forced to accept our inability to fathom the inner workings of Mosaic prophecy. We are unable to explain how Moshe’s unimpeded intellectual perception of divine truths is translated into precise biblical laws and words – including numerous anthropomorphic and other metaphors which appear to bear the hallmark of the imaginative faculties rather than the pure intellect. Ultimately, the most meaningful statements we can make about it are negative, such as that it does not involve the imagination or angelic intermediaries.

First posted to Facebook 11 June 2020, here.

Moshe's prophecy and a Maimonidean fascination

Prophecy – the interface and means through which information is conveyed from the divine to the human realm – lies at the very heart of Judaism and many other religions. As a phenomenon which is understood not to have existed for thousands of years, it nevertheless has remained a source of fascination and debate for religious scholars throughout the ages.

This is particularly true when we examine the writings of Rambam, for whom prophecy was a focal point in all of his major works. Indeed his apparent pre-occupation with the subject led some commentators to speculate as to whether prophecy was a particular Maimonidean pursuit – and perhaps that he even believed he may have achieved some degree of prophecy.

As Judaism Reclaimed examines in several of its chapters, prophecy for Rambam is not an isolated concept – a divine communication visited upon a person simply in order to instruct or rebuke. Rather it represents the crowning glory of long process of refining and perfecting all facets of the human personality and intellect.

This process also connects to the Maimonidean approach to providence. People who gradually improve and gain control over their characters traits – and refine their intellect – will find that their mind will be able to transcend the limitations of its physical associations. What starts off with flashes of intuition and knowledge from the spiritual realm, can develop into ru’ach hakodesh (holy spirit) and eventually to prophecy.

Crucially therefore, for Rambam, the degree of insight, understanding and clarity that a person is able to attain through prophecy is largely related to his or her own personal development and training.

Against this backdrop, God’s rebuke of Aharon and Miriam for their apparent slander of Moshe takes on particular significance. Rambam writes in Shemonah Perakim that Moshe had perfected his mind and character to such an extent that no barrier remained to impede his intellect's perception of God's will. This meant that Moshe perceived God on the level of "Peh el peh adaber bo" — a 'word-for-word' grasp of God's will. Through this principle we learn that Moshe received instruction from God without any ambiguity or need for interpretation. It is possible that only this degree of clarity as to God’s will could facilitate the communication of a set of precise laws – therefore no subsequent prophet can ever be permitted to revoke or manipulate the laws that Moshe has taught.

This can be contrasted with the regular mode of prophecy in which God makes Himself known to the prophet in a “vision” or “dream”, which allows for a certain degree of ambiguity and flexibility in its interpretation and application. Such flexibility is demonstrated in the Gemara’s account of an episode in which King Josiah decided to consult the prophetess Chuldah rather than the less popular Yirmiyah in the hope of receiving an interpretation of God's will that was more favourable and compassionate.

This fundamental principle – which is listed in Rambam’s list of 13 Principle of Faith – was made abundantly clear in this parashah, with its contrast between the quality of Moshe’s prophecy and that of his siblings. Despite the heights of religious piety and leadership displayed by Miriam and Aharon, the prophecy that they and any others will receive must be recognised as qualitatively distinct from that of Moshe.

First posted to Facebook 12 June 2022, here.

Laws, narratives and post-Mosaic additions to the Torah

The concluding chapter of Judaism Reclaimed explores a controversial yet fascinating subject – whether later prophets or other figures might have been authorised to amend or add to passages of the Torah.

Unusually, our analysis of this delicate subject begins with a remarkable passage written by the Maharal, who analyses a statement of Rashi’s commentary to the first verse of parashat Mattot. Rashi teaches that Moshe prophesied on two distinct levels: the exclusive and precise "peh el peh" type mentioned above, as well as the more general "koh amar Hashem" prophecy – the level at which other prophets received their transmissions from God. Thus, while Moshe received the passages of the Torah which contained the permanent mitzvot in the unique, unparalleled manner of “peh el peh”, other parts of the Torah – those which contained narratives or specific one-time-only instructions—were transmitted through the standard form of prophecy.

Maharal offers a possible explanation for the discrepancy that exists between the levels of prophecy granted by God to Moshe in order to transmit different parts of the Torah. He suggests that, in order for a commandment from God to become eternal law, irrespective of the context of the time and place in which it was taught, it must be clearly and unambiguously identified as being God's explicit and exact word. The permanent mitzvot in the Torah, which were delivered through the precision and accuracy of the “pel el peh” process, can thereby withstand the force of claims that the applicability of those mitzvot was limited to ancient times or subject to adjustment when framed within the context of disparate social, political or cultural settings.

With regard to the Torah’s broader teachings as well as its narrative sections, however, there was no need for such a precise “word for word” medium of communication. Therefore these messages were relayed to Moshe in the regular prophetic manner – which required the prophet to contribute his or her own interpretation and could be influenced by their personality.

We noted how Maharal’s distinction between the Torah’s legal and narrative passages dovetails with Ibn Ezra’s stated methodologies for interpreting different parts of the Torah. Towards the end of the introduction to his Torah commentary, Ibn Ezra distinguishes between the approaches for interpreting verses with legal content, which often bear a single specific and immutable meaning transmitted to us via the oral law, and the narrative passages of the Torah which are capable of bearing multiple understandings—"shivim panim latorah".

This connection between Maharal’s theory regarding different levels of prophecy and Ibn Ezra’s distinction between narrative and legal passages of the Torah may allow us to resolve another difficult issue. Ibn Ezra writes that the final 12 verses of the Torah were a prophecy received and recorded by Yehoshua. Elsewhere in his commentary, Ibn Ezra cites other verses which are troubling, in that they permit the suggestion that they are the product of later, non-Mosaic, authorship. Referring to the “secret of the 12” – a phrase which is widely understood to refer to Yehoshua’s authorship of the final 12 verses of the Torah — Ibn Ezra mysteriously informs his reader that one who understands these verses will “recognise the truth”.

Manuscripts which appear to contain Torah commentary of distinguished earlier commentators such as Rabbi Yehudah HaChassid make similar suggestions regarding later prophetic authorship of certain verses in the Torah. Without wishing to enter the debate as to the authenticity of these manuscripts or the proper interpretation of Ibn Ezra’s secret, we can maintain on the basis of our analysis that, even if they do involve the suggestion that certain verses were added through the medium of a later prophecy, we can distinguish these verses, which all pertain solely to the Torah’s narrative, from verses which impart permanent mitzvot. In a similar vein, suggestions that some of the Torah’s earlier passages were incorporated into the Torah by Moshe on the basis of previous (prophetic) works are limited to narrative and do not pertain to any legislative sections.

Following Maharal’s suggestion that narrative portions of the Torah’s text were transmitted by means of regular prophecy, it may be possible to accept that another prophet was divinely authorised to contribute to them (a Tannaic opinion suggests that this was the case for the Torah’s final verses). The Torah’s permanent mitzvot, however, were transmitted through Moshe’s unique prophecy of “peh el peh”, making them immune to any form of supplementing or interference–even by a later prophet.

Notably none of this appears to be accepted by Rambam–at least in the way his principles of faith are expressed in the list contained in the introduction to Chelek. Rambam’s understanding of prophecy as a relatively natural result of a person’s development implies that Moshe's prophecy, through which the entire Torah was transmitted, was constantly on this supreme "peh el peh" level, and did not fluctuate between different biblical passages. Consistent with Rambam’s understanding of Moshe’s constantly supreme level of prophecy with which the entire Torah was relayed, Rambam also insists that it is entirely illegitimate to claim that any additions or amendments were made following Moshe’s death.

This represents the conclusions reached at the end of Judaism Reclaimed. God-willing the final chapter of my upcoming book will reopen this question and probe further approaches to reconciling this difficult topic.

Rashi in a Maimonidean vision

My previous post discussed Rambam’s position on prophecy, an approach which is often regarded as radical. While the simple reading of the biblical text creates the impression that God is initiating a form of communication with prophets, Rambam interprets this process to be significantly more passive. The mind of the prophet is able to gain an insight into God’s will regarding necessary matters (Ralbag explains that the prophet can choose to concentrate on certain topics in order for the prophetic inspiration to address them).

How original though is Rambam really being with his theory of prophecy?

In Judaism Reclaimed I quote some surprising remarks from Jewish philosopher, Yeshayahu Leibowitz, who argued that a very similar approach was taken in Ashkenaz – a century earlier – by none other than Rashi!

Citing a low-key remark hidden at the end of the longest parashah in the Torah, Naso, Rashi comments on the word “midaber” which is used to describe God “speaking” to Moshe that the words “to him” really mean “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”.

Elsewhere in his book of parashah analysis, Leibowitz asserts that those who read Rashi with a trained eye will be aware of a sophisticated philosophical comprehension of God concealed behind his customary low-profile presentation. In one instance, in his commentary to Yevamot 49a, 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”.

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. For Leibowitz, Rashi’s words foreshadow Rambam’s negative theology and his understanding (Guide 1:59) that the wisest of all sages, such as Moshe and Shlomo, are distinguished from lesser sages by the extent to which they perceive and internalise the gulf between God and His creatures.

While Judaism Reclaimed attempts to defend Rashi from allegations that he believed in a corporeal deity, Leibowitz goes much further, considering him a first-degree philosopher.

This leaves us wondering which is more radical: Rambam’s theory of prophecy or Leibowitz’s theory of Rashi?!

First posted on Facebook 15 June 2022, here.