Showcasing Shechinah: hashgachah hotspots and Western Wall idolatry

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Terumah examines the concept of Shechinah (God’s “earthly dwelling”), a term with biblical roots but which has come to be viewed predominantly as a mystical phenomenon. The theological problems inherent in placing God within the framework of space and time were the subject of a recent post, which quoted King Shlomo as having said: “But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Behold! The heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain You -- much less this temple that I have erected”. Maharal expands upon this theme, writing that God “indeed fills the Earth” -- but that anyone who claims that all places are equally suited to worshipping Him attacks a core tenet of the Torah – that our ability to relate to God fluctuates in accordance with the limiting physical variables of time and place.

In Moreh Nevuchim, Rambam understands this reference to God’s “dwelling” in a particular place to mean that it becomes subject to a permanent heightened hashgachah (Divine Providence). Rambam’s explanation presents a challenge to those who opt for a minimalist interpretation of Rambam’s view of Divine Providence, a subject we deal with at length in earlier chapters.

Judaism Reclaimed proceeds to develop this theory of Shechinah as a “hashgachah hotspot” with particular reference to the explanations of Ramban and R’ Yehudah Halevi for the differential between the land of Israel and the rest of the world, before noting that the same idea can be applied to providential fluctuations within the concept of time. Several examples are brought to support the proposition that an intensification of hashgachah is a double-edged sword; while it provides an opportunity for a more profound relationship with God, it also acts as a catalyst to trigger a more direct and drastic response to any wrongdoing.

The chapter concludes with an examination of a radical and controversial claim made by a Jewish philosopher, Yeshayahu Leibowitz, that “the idea that a specific country or location has an intrinsic “holiness” is an indubitably idolatrous idea” and that the Western Wall should therefore be destroyed as an idolatrous shrine. Leibowitz cites in support the comments of Rabbi Meir Simchah of Dvinsk in his Meshech Chochmah where he asserts that “There is no difference for all Torah matters either in regard to place or time…Do not think that the Sanctuary and the Temple are holy objects in their own right…”.

On the basis of our analysis in this chapter we suggest that, while it is true that no country or building which attracts hashgachah is intrinsically holy, it nevertheless does undergo a form of metaphysical metamorphosis from God’s choosing to “rest His Shechinah” there. For the duration of the Shechinah residing in such a place, the heightened hashgachah manifests itself as a very real concept of holiness—widespread throughout the Torah—to the extent that some label it a “core tenet of Jewish faith”.

The danger which must be rigorously guarded against is that people will gradually begin to revere such places and artefacts as being holy in their own right and accord them supernatural powers distinct from those of God. We note prophetic protestations against such wrongful attribution of supernatural powers to places and their rituals. In such a scenario, we conclude, Leibowitz might be justified in labelling such a belief in sanctity of worldly matters as idolatry.

First posted to Facebook 26 February 2020, here.

The thin line between holiness and paganism

One of the most astounding and powerful passages of Torah commentary that I have come across relates to the nature of attributing holiness to physical objects – a central theme in parashat Terumah – and the acute danger that this can lead to mistaken pagan theology.

What, we might ask, is the holiest most Godly physical object that our nation has ever possessed?

Quite probably the luchot – the stone tablets which were “written with the finger of God” and were to reside in the Ark – at the center of the Mikdash. Yet we also find that, in the aftermath of the nation sinning with the golden calf, Moshe smashed these tablets before their eyes. According to the Midrash, God congratulated Moshe for doing so.

In his Meshech Chochma commentary to the Torah, Rabbi Meir Simcha of Dvinsk understands that the error that underpinned the sin of the golden calf was an inappropriate attribution of holiness and divinity to objects other than God. Rather than viewing Moshe as a channel through which they could receive God’s word and thereby worship Him, Moshe himself was deified. When Moshe was absent, they then sought to deify a golden calf in his place.

Perceiving this error, Moshe realised that were he to present them with the divinely-formed luchot at that moment, they would simply transfer this error onto the stone tablets and revere or worship them too. It was therefore necessary to smash the tablets in front of the people in order to vividly correct their mistaken theology. To teach them that objects and places are not inherently holy but only serve, in accordance with God’s commands, as a means for man to worship God. In the words of the Meshech Chochma:

“Do not think that the sanctuary and the Temple are holy objects in their own right. Far be it! God dwells among His people, and if they are like Adam who violated the covenant, all their sanctity is removed … In conclusion: there is nothing in the world which is holy … only God is holy … for nothing in creation is holy in itself, only in terms of the observance of the Torah in accordance with God’s will … All sanctity is due to a command that the Creator commanded [us] to worship Him.”

Importantly, the broken tablets were placed in the Ark of the Covenant at the very heart of the Mishkan and Mikdash (where ancient temples would typically place their idols) in order to emphasise the message that the constructed “House of God” did not bear inherent holiness.

Judaism Reclaimed explores this theme further in its analysis of the concept of Shechina, drawing upon and critiquing provocative statements of Yeshayahu Leibowitz, who claimed that the Western Wall ought to be destroyed as an idolatrous shrine.

A further application of this principle was related by R Alex Israel in his recent podcast episode (featuring Samuel I chap. 4 linked in the comments). The chapter in question describes the aftermath of an unsuccessful battle against the Philistines:

“And the people came to the camp, and the elders of Israel said, "Why has the Lord beaten us today before the Philistines? Let us take to us from Shiloh the Ark of the Covenant of the Lord, and He will come in our midst, and save us from the hand of our enemies."

Drawing on the context of the preceding chapters, in which we are told that the priests were violating the covenant of God, R Alex comments that it seems that the nation was relating to the ark with a pagan-orientated attitude. Judaism does not view sacred artefacts as possessing inherent magical powers through which its enemies can be vanquished. Rather the ark represents the covenantal relationship between God and His people. In the face of a national tragedy – such as the military setback which had occurred – the people are called upon to examine how well they are keeping their side of the covenant before demanding and expecting God’s protection. As the narrative continues to relate, God can look after His own ark – but His protection of the nation depends upon them remaining loyal to their side of the covenant.

By viewing the ark as inherently holy and possessing protective powers, they failed to take note of the message of the broken luchotinside it. Just as Moshe had sought to teach this lesson vividly in the desert by breaking the luchot in front of the people, God now imparts the same message:

“the Philistines waged war and Israel was beaten… and the Ark of God was captured.”

Humans are physical beings, and the Torah recognises the need to channel our relationship with God through the worldly dimensions of time and space and using objects and rituals. We must be constantly reminded, however, of the fundamental theological lesson which Moshe taught us by breaking the luchot– a lesson which was placed at the very heart of “God’s abode on Earth”.

First posted to Facebook 10 February 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.