Hidden miracles and working within nature

Recent days have been a whirlwind of emotions and dramatic news cycles – punctuated with regular sprints to the nearest bomb shelter. While the heart-stopping screech from our phones and nerve-jangling wails of the sirens often occur at ungodly hours, there is no lack of indication of divine footprints accompanying this latest leg of Israel’s historic journey.

Surely the most conspicuous instance of this is what transpired at Beersheva’s Soroka hospital, at the end of last week. When news of a direct missile hit on the hospital filtered through our underground bunker we all feared the worst. There was nothing short of amazement when it was subsequently revealed that the imploded building had been evacuated by a concerned advisor just 11 hours earlier.

Reflecting on the way in which a mass-casualty-event was averted, it is striking how the apparent display of providence parallels the Maimonidean approach to the phenomenon. As Judaism Reclaimed explores in detail, Rambam understands that the primary avenue through which God intervenes in human affairs is by providing flashes of inspired knowledge and intuition to a person making critical decisions. Providing an example with a tragic association from his personal life, Rambam describes how God would not typically interfere with the rules of nature in order to prevent a boat from sinking in a storm at sea. Rather he would provide certain individuals with the foresight and instinct to navigate such worldly dangers and thereby avoid death and misfortune.

What is particularly important to note here, however, is that the apparent providence on display last week in Beersheva did not obviate the need for careful planning and security precautions – in fact it boosted and inspired the sensible decision making. The building had not been cleared under standard procedures implemented at the start of the war. But when Moshe Bar Siman Tov reviewed Soroka’s safety the afternoon before the strike, he ordered an evacuation which thoroughly surprised the hospital staff.

This theme of combining providence – perhaps miraculous – intervention with the laws of nature is one which occurred to me again during yesterday’s Torah reading. The episode of the spies, in which the nation despairs of its ability to conquer Canaan despite God’s promise, can be contrasted with how God dealt with them during their exit from Egypt:

“It came to pass when Pharaoh let the people go, that God did not lead them [by] way of the land of the Philistines for it was near, because God said, Lest the people reconsider when they see war and return to Egypt.”

As part of his analysis of the rationale for korbanot, Rambam identifies a fundamental principle contained within this verse. God, he explains, did not miraculously intervene in order to fortify the nation and ply them with superhuman courage in order to comply with His will that they journey in the most direct way to the Promised Land. Rather He worked within human nature, recognising the innate weaknesses of newly-released slaves and their inability to rise and challenge the mighty Philistines.

With the passage of time, however, God sought to toughen the nation up with their desert sojourn, providing in the meantime an array of signs and wonders to build their confidence in His willingness and ability to assist them. In the aftermath of the episode of the spies, therefore, God anticipates that they have internalised this message. In light of this, all the people “who perceived My glory, and the signs that I performed in Egypt and in the desert” are held responsible and punished for their lack of faith. For their inability to acknowledge God’s ability and willingness to operate – even within the laws of nature – to inspire His people to navigate and transcend the severe challenges with which they are confronted.

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Chance or guided providence?

As I flitted through the reporting of Al Jazeera, BBC and the Tehran Times last week, one repeated theme I noticed in the anti-Israel media was the attempt to downplay the significance of Israel’s achievement in its “lucky” killing of Yihyeh Sinwar. But while it seems true that Sinwar’s demise did not involve the same degree of intelligence and planning as that of others such as Nasrallah, does it automatically follow that it should just be attributed to good luck?

On what will be a particularly poignant Simchat Torahin a few days’ time, we will read the final poetic portion of the Torah in which God is depicted as “rochev shamayim - Rider of the heavens”. This cryptic description is expounded by Rambam towards the end of the first section of Moreh Nevuchim, where he sees it as providing an important insight into the nature of the relationship between God and the physical world. Not only does “rochev” denote that God is separate from the world and not a force within it (a statement which powerfully rejects any notions of pantheism/panentheism), but it also indicates that God controls and moves the world just like a rider who “makes the beast of burden move and go where he wishes”.

This second aspect of “rochev” got me wondering if we could take the rider metaphor one step further. Some brief research on forums of horse-riding enthusiasts confirmed my suspicion that the way in which riders guide their horses can be extremely subtle – barely detectable to the casual observer:

“Someone recently asked me an interesting question: “Can my horse read my thoughts?” This person went on to describe the extraordinary bond he has with his Arabian horse, and his belief that the horse knows how he feels and where he wants to go without being cued. What appears to be a telepathic connection develops from experience and sensitivity and emerges when the horse and rider are working together in harmony with a common mind and purpose.”

What does this all mean for our understanding of hashgacha– the way in which God is perceived to manage and govern His world?

Judaism Reclaimed dedicates long chapters to an exploration of Rambam’s view of the subject. On the one hand, Rambam’s worldview sees God as having a constant will with which He established unchanging rules of nature. Certainly, those approaching Maimonidean thought from the academic perspective tend to downplay any possibility for miraculous or providential interference with the natural order. Rambam himself comments on a Mishnah in Avot:

“They (the sages) did not believe in the constant renewal of God’s will, but at the beginning of creation (God) put the nature of things into the world, both the way in which things should act regularly – this is ‘nature’ – or the abnormal manner in which they should act rarely – this is a ‘miracle’. All is equal.”

But does this tell the whole story?

As David Hartman pointed out in his Maimonides: Torah and Philosophic Quest, once it has been stated that God used His knowledge of ‘future’ necessity in order to build miracles into the natural world from its origin, it makes no difference, from a strictly logical perspective, whether one admits to one or a thousand such miracles.

The Moreh Nevuchim also contains several intriguing comments which suggest that Rambam’s position on providence may be more complex than is commonly thought. First, in 1:35, Rambam states that “the character of His governance … the ‘how’ of His providence are truly the secrets of the Torah”. Later, at the peak of the famous palace parable, Rambam describes the highest category of those who seek God – the prophets in the king’s inner chamber – as turning their intellects “to know His governance of them in whatever way is possible”.

In his Iggeret Techiyat HaMeitim, Rambam explicitly considers the historical fate of the Jewish nation to be providential:

“…we believe that the blessings which come from obedience [to God] and the suffering from disobedience, for this nation, become a sign and a wonder”.

Returning to our opening question, to what extent should Sinwar’s death – along with a number of other events from the past year – be attributed to good or bad fortune?

Drawing upon the Torah’s horse-riding metaphor, at times it may be impossible to detect any guidance or direction from the rider – yet when one examines the horse’s entire journey around the race track or obstacle course it will be abundantly clear that it could not have achieved what it did unaided.

So too at times with our national fate. It may be possible to explain away each isolated event via natural cause and effect. But, taking a step back to appreciate the broader – sometimes historical – perspective, the series of events that we have experienced over the past year(s) and indeed throughout Jewish history appear far too unusual to be attributed to natural phenomena alone.

I am reminded now of an Israeli spy series “Tehran” that I watched a couple of years ago. At the time I thought that the show was well written and put together – my only complaint was that the final episode in each season just seemed way too far-fetched. Too removed from reality. Today the show’s drama and unexpected twists and turns cannot even begin to compete with what we have been witnessing on the news cycles.

We continue to pray to the Rochev Shamayim for the protection and success of our soldiers and swift return of all our hostages as we await the final dramatic episodes of the festive season.

First posted on Facebook 20 October 2024. For comments and discussion, click here.

Maimonidean miracles: providence and the Twilight Zone

As we approach Shabbat Bereishit, the first week of the parashah cycle, Maimonideans among us would be well served to celebrate the preceding twilight – a watershed moment in Rambam’s theological calendar. A Mishnah in the 5th chapter of Avot lists ten things which were created on the eve of the first Shabbat such as the ‘mouth of the earth that swallowed Korach’ and ‘Moshe’s staff’. Rambam, like Rabbi Yehuda Halevi before him, detected within this teaching a strong traditional support for his religious philosophy:

They (the sages) did not believe in the constant renewal of God’s will, but at the beginning of creation (God) put the nature of things into the world, both the way in which things should act regularly – this is ‘nature’ – or the abnormal manner in which they should act rarely – this is a ‘miracle’. All is equal.

As Judaism Reclaimed discusses at length, the popular religious notion of a miracle – in which God is understood to alter the rules of nature – presents a challenge to Rambam’s way of comprehending the universe. In Moreh Nevuchim (2:28) Rambam sets out his theory of the laws of nature. Quoting from a passage of Tehillim which relates God’s creation of the world, Rambam highlights the verse “And He set them up to eternity…He issued a decree, which will not change” (148:6).

The consistency of the natural order is not due to any lacking on the part of God, but because “a matter which changes, changes only because of an inherent lacking”. In contrast to this, God’s “work is perfect” (Devarim 32:4) – His absolute knowledge means that He does not need to keep fiddling with and adjusting His creation. Any subsequent requirement for adapting of the rules of nature can be foreseen by Him and placed within (or alongside) the natural order.

In the subsequent chapter of the Moreh, Rambam further elaborates upon his understanding of how biblical miracles can fit within this model:

For when God created this existence and established all of its nature, He placed within their natures that all miracles too would arise at the times of the … It states: “R’ Yonatan said “God made conditions with the sea that it should split before the Israelites…R’ Yirmiyah son of Elazar said: “Not only with the sea did God make conditions, rather with all that He created in in the six days of creation… I commanded that the sea split, and that the furnace should not injure Chananya, Mishael and Azariah, and that the lions should not damage Daniel, and that the fish should vomit out Yonah.” [Bereishit Rabbah 85]. From here one can draw an analogy to all the other [miracles].

These pre-conditions which God made with all aspects of the creation facilitate the miraculous phenomena which occur throughout the Torah. By depicting them as having been created “bein hashemashot” – in the twilight zone between the week of creation and Shabbat, the sages may have been implying that these exceptional miracles are set aside from the regular predictable natural rules, but still belong within the broader creation process.

From Miracles to Providence

Rambam’s standard approach to providence focuses on an individual, who has developed his or her relationship with God, thereby being the recipient of flashes of divinely-assisted insights and intuition. This approach thereby avoids any interference with God’s natural order. Does Rambam’s theory of miracles present an additional dimension through which his understanding of Providence can assessed?

As David Hartman has noted, once it has been proposed that God built miracles into the natural world from its origin, it makes no difference, from a strictly logical perspective, whether one admits to one or a thousand such miracles. This allows us to speculate more broadly as to which of the many manifestations of providence which appear in the Torah can be explained in this manner.

One possible example of ongoing miraculous providence, that Rambam appears to actively endorse, is the national covenant of blessings and curses in which God promises the Jewish people rewards and punishment such as abundance or scarcity of rainfall. The level of rainfall and other such promises which feature in the Torah are not easily explained through Rambam’s standard providential theory of intellectual inspiration or intuition. Perhaps we can suggest therefore that they too are contained within this category of ‘miracles built into nature’ at Creation. Such a suggestion can draw support from the closing stages of Rambam’s Iggeret Techiyat Hameitim where he writes: “…we believe that the blessings which come from obedience [to God] and the maledictions from disobedience, for this nation, become a sign and a wonder”.

Can this theory be stretched even further? The discussion thus far has focused primarily on miracles on a national scale – the providential relationship based upon God’s covenant with the Jewish people. There is an indication from the closing chapters of Moreh Nevuchim that this concept of inbuilt miracles, based on God’s infinite and timeless knowledge, can also apply to the manipulation of the laws of nature on behalf of exceptional individuals. Commenting on Tehillim (91:7-8), Rambam describes the righteous person who has developed a connection with God:

If you happen to pass through a battlefield of drawn swords, you will go on your way with thousands being killed at your left hand and myriads at your right hand, no harm will be inflicted upon you … as it says: “A thousand will fall from your side, ten thousand at your right, but (the evil) will not befall you”…This person’s great providential protection is “Because he has set his exclusive love upon me, therefore I shall rescue him, for he knows My Name.” We have already explained that ‘knowing God’s name’ refers to perceiving Him. The Psalm is therefore saying: that this individual is protected because he perceives and passionately loves Me.

The sort of divine assistance being described in this passage, which depicts a person being rescued from a raging battlefield, is not easily attributed to Rambam’s standard approach to providence of heightened intellectual awareness and inspired knowledge. Might it be taken to imply that, in certain situations, God may have built miracles into Creation in order to “manipulate” laws of nature even on behalf of individuals.

This discussion leaves us with several questions:

1. Modern scientific theories of Quantum mechanics understand there to be inbuilt randomness within certain aspects of atomic behaviour. Does this modern scientific knowledge make it easier to accept (or perhaps develop) Rambam’s theory of inbuilt yet undetected providence within the laws of nature?

2. If it is indeed correct to apply Rambam’s theory of miracles more broadly so as to include possibilities of individual providence, would this necessarily be limited to exceptional people (who Rambam is describing in that passage) or could regular people also be beneficiaries of some degree of miraculous input?

3. Some scholars interpret Rambam’s comments concerning the worthy individual being rescued from a raging battlefield to mean that the person will no longer be concerned about his fate, rather than miraculously rescued. While this may be easier to reconcile with other statements of Rambam elsewhere, is this really a satisfactory reading of his words?

First posted on Facebook 30 September 2021, here.

To boldly go where no angel has stepped before

Growing up in England, I was often bemused by the number of quaint and elaborate euphemisms that were employed to gracefully depict a person’s visit to a lavatory. My personal favourite was my grandmother’s way of telling us how she had “gone to the place that the Queen goes without her carriage”.

Imagine my amazement when I discovered that rather than just being a quaint old English phrase, our traditional sources actually contain the following prayer which is to be recited before entering a bathroom:

“Be honored, holy honorable ones, servants of the Most High. Help me. Help me. Guard me. Guard me. Wait for me until I enter and come out, as this is the way of humans.”

It is not only royalty, it would seem, that enters such unedifying places unaccompanied; every human being is similarly devoid of his or her angelic assistants.

When I posted last year on the subject of prayer to angels, at least one member of this group responded by citing how the above prayer is recorded by Rambam himself in his Mishneh Torah repertoire of appropriate blessings. How is this prayer to be understood within the context of Rambam’s broader approach to angels and his strict prohibition against addressing them in prayer?

When responding to this question, I believe that it is crucial to bear in mind Rambam’s conclusion to the Laws of Tefillin and Mezuza, where he demonstrates his approach to the notion of protective angels:

Whenever a person enters or leaves [the house], he will encounter [on the Mezuza] the unity of the name of the Holy One, blessed be He, and remember his love for Him. Thus, he will awake from his sleep and his obsession with the vanities of time, and recognize that there is nothing which lasts for eternity except the knowledge of the Creator of the world. This will motivate him to regain full awareness and follow the paths of the upright.

Whoever wears tefillin on his head and arm, wears tzitzit on his garment, and has a mezuzah on his entrance, can be assured that he will not sin, because he has many who will remind him. These are the angels, who will prevent him from sinning, as it states: "The angel of God camps around those who fear Him and protects them."

This teaching, which is analysed in Judaism Reclaimed, dovetails nicely with what Rambam writes towards the end of Moreh Nevuchim, that a person’s level of providential protection is a direct result of the quantity and quality of their mind’s focus on and therefore connection to God.

When entering a lavatory, however, a person is not permitted to entertain thoughts of God or Torah. The protective angels therefore do not “enter with him” into the bathroom. What this short prayer is intended to affirm, perhaps, is that just as the Queen returns from her short visit back to her courtiers awaiting patiently in the carriage, so too do we intend to return immediately to our pre-lavatorial meditations on divine matters upon our exit from the bathroom. We therefore anticipate and hope to find our protective angels waiting for us exactly where we left them.

For more information on Judaism Reclaimed and Talmud Reclaimed, visit www.TalmudReclaimed.com.

First posted to Facebook 23 November 2023, here.

Where on Earth is God?

Yesterday’s Torah reading introduces us to a concept which is theologically challenging yet fundamental to our faith: that God can “dwell in our midst”. While the notion of God dwelling in a nation’s midst would seem to be conferring some sort of benefit on them, its precise meaning is complex and elusive. As the wise King Shlomo succinctly summarised during his dedication of the first Beit Hamikdash:

"Can God really dwell on earth? ... the heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain You, and surely not this Temple that I have built!" [Melachim I 8:27] 

The answer is indicated both in the continuation of Shlomo's speech (“But may you turn to the prayer … that Your servant shall pray towards this place”) and by God's subsequent response. God's 'residing' in a particular location represents, metaphorically, the notion that people’s prayers will be answered there, thereby making His existence more tangible to them.The Maharal (G.A. Bereishit 6:6) restates the problem before elegantly expanding upon this theme, explaining that God indeed 'fills the Earth' and cannot be confined to a specific place. One who claims, however, that all places are therefore equal to worship Him is attacking a core tenet of the Torah: the principle that God designates as 'holy' certain places in which He enables people to relate to Him more easily. Maharal’s statement highlights the tension that prevails between our awareness of God's infinity on the one hand, and the Torah's assertions that our ability to experience and relate to Him fluctuates in accordance with the limiting physical variables of time and place. 

In an almost “Maimonidean”-type manoeuvre, the Maharal clarifies that God’s dwelling in our midst does not imply any change in God – rather the “intervening screen” which typically diminishes our ability to perceive Him which is partially removed. This process, which is referred to biblically in terms of a relationship between God and His nation, evolves in Midrashic and Tannaitic Hebrew into a noun: “Shechinah” which is taken to denote God’s Presence in a particular place. 

Rambam’s presentation of this concept in the first section of Moreh Nevuchim focuses on the heightened providential opportunities that such a “divine dwelling” affords. One manifestation of this is the differential between the Land of Israel which “God’s eyes are always upon” [Devarim 11:12] and the rest of the world. Our analysis may help to clarify a perplexing statement of the Gemara that "anyone who lives outside the Land of Israel is considered not to have a God". Derashot HaRan (4) explains that a person who lives outside Israel distances himself from God's direct providence. In doing so, he forfeits the benefit of the special hashgachah-based relationship with God that only living in Israel can convey. Relatively speaking, therefore, such a person can be considered “not to have a God.” 

It is an important principle of Judaism that the opportunity to do good breeds a commensurate negative potential to do evil, and this principle manifests itself clearly in the 'residing' of the shechinah. While an increased concentration of hashgachah affords people an opportunity to enhance their perception and relationship with God, it is accompanied by the commensurate threat of a more direct and drastic response to any wrongdoing. This idea is used by Rabbeinu Nissim (Ran) in connection with God's sending an angel to oversee the Jewish People's journey to the Land of Israel in place of His personal direct Providence, which had governed the Jews’ progress until the sin of the Golden Calf.

The Netziv (Bemidbar 11:1), provides further examples of this principle, contrasting the immediacy of the punishment suffered by the 'mitonenim' (complainers) in the desert when compared to the relatively distant threatened punishments which would be visited upon the nation in the event of them sinning described in the book of Devarim. The Netziv deduces that this is due to a differential in the concentration of shechinah and hashgachah between that which existed in the desert at the time of the mitonenim, (whose complaints were "in the ears of God"), and the ‘regular’ hashgachah which would be present once the Jews had entered the land. 

Varying concentrations of shechinah or hashgachahmay also help us to explain the severe punishment meted out to Nadav and Avihu for bringing “strange fire” before God. The verse emphasises that their sin was committed “before God”, which indicates the presence of a heightened degree of the shechinah and an increased level of hashgachah. For this reason, the divine decree against them was both immediate and severe. Perhaps this is the real significance of the words "bikrovai ekadesh" (“among those close to Me will I be sanctified”): that God will be sanctified by the evidence of hashgachah among those closest to Him. This can be contrasted with the punishment received by King Uzziah in the late first Mikdash period for the same sin — the bringing of an unauthorised ketoret offering. Uzziah received punishment through the affliction of tzaraat, not death, because there was a reduced level of hashgachah after the inauguration of the Mishkan.

There is a tradition that "veshachanti betocham" refers not only to the shechinah residing in the Mishkan, but also alludes to each individual's mission to develop himself into a Mikdash within which the shechinah can reside. This teaching can be viewed consistently with Rambam's principle that the level of Providence that a person is capable of receiving is directly dependent on the extent to which he has developed his character and intellect. 

In Rambam’s understanding, as a person becomes more righteous, he gradually minimises the extent to which he is governed by forces of nature; through this process he becomes subject instead to God's direct hashgachah, which guides and facilitates his continued development. However, just as the direct hashgachah on a national level causes the nation to be judged more severely should they sin, so too an individual upon whom the shechinah resides is judged "kechut hasa'arah", causing him to be judged severely even for more minor infractions.

This reciprocal relationship between God and humanity is pointed out by Rambam in the closing stages of his Moreh Nevuchim where he writes that

“…the intellect that overflows towards us and is the bond between us and Him, may He be exalted. Just as we apprehend Him by means of that light which He caused to overflow towards us – as it says “In Your light do we see light” (Tehillim 36:10) – so does He, by means of that same light examine us; and because of it He, may He be exalted, is constantly with us, examining us from on high”. [3:52]

See more at www.TalmudReclaimed.com.

First posted on Facebook 18 February 2024, here.