Can God change His mind?

In a popular post last month, this group explored a suggestion (advanced by the Seforno and developed by Rabbi S. R. Hirsch) that God’s initially “universal” plan for the world was recalibrated and amended to seek out a single “Chosen Nation” which would receive and transmit His Torah. While that post addressed the issue from the perspective of Choseness, the very idea of God appearing to change His mind and resort to Plan B raises thorny theological problems.

Judaism Reclaimed highlights Rav Hirsch’s approach to tackling this difficulty. Focusing on a close grammatical reading of the relevant biblical phrase, he argues that none of these amendments represented a 'change of God's mind', but rather a tailoring of the divine plan in response to human conduct.

“And God regretted (vayinachem) that He had made man upon the earth, and He became grieved in His heart.” (Bereshit 6:6)

Crucially the Torah employs the active form of the verb "vayinachem" rather than the reflexive form of the verb "vayitnachem", which would have implied that God changed himself. This usage supports the idea that the element of change was caused by a factor — the exercise of human free will — that was inherently external to God rather than being intrinsic to His original plan.

The word vayinachem appears again in response to Israel’s repentance and Moshe’s prayer in the immediate aftermath of the Golden Calf:

“God reconsidered (vayinachem) the evil He had said He would do to His people.” (Shemot 32:14)

This can be seen in contrast to the word vayitnachem – which the Torah itself tells us cannot be applied to God:

“God is not a man that He should lie, nor is He a mortal that He should change His mind (veyitnecham).” (Bemidbar 23:19)

Interestingly, while Rav Hirsch in this instance steadfastly rejects the literal implication of the Torah’s text, he nevertheless makes it clear that he opposes the position advocated for by Rambam which seeks to reinterpret and explain any biblical terms which appear to impute physicality to God.

“Scholars have philosophised about these expressions [anthropomorphism], in order to keep us far from ascribing to God material features. This gives rise, however, to the danger that the Personality of God will become increasingly blurred and indistinct to our perception. Had that been the Torah’s intention it could easily have avoided such expressions … Belief in the Personality of God is more important than the speculations of those who reject the attribution of material features to God.”

Elsewhere Rav Hirsch explained further how: “the maturest mind of the philosopher knows no more about the essence of God than the simple mind of the child”.

As Judaism Reclaimed proceeds to analyse in a subsequent chapter, Rav Hirsch’s position comes very close to that of earlier rabbinic authorities who took biblical descriptions of God at face value. Marc Shapiro, in The Limits of Orthodox Theology, invests great effort to collect and present rabbinic statements which, taken superficially, reflect belief in a physical deity. While he sees medieval rabbinic commentator, Moshe Taku, as the “most significant" example of rabbinic corporealism, leading scholar of medival rabbinic mysticism, Joseph Dan begs to differ, writing that:

"He [R’ Taku] insists on the literal acceptance of the prophets' descriptions of their visions as well as the anthropomorphic references to God in talmudic-midrashic literature. He does not do so because of his belief in the literal veracity of these descriptions; he only insists that they represent the maximum that can be conveyed concerning God's essence and appearance, and that any further inquiry cannot lead to valid conclusions. God chose to reveal to us in the scriptures whatever is found in them: man should be satisfied with that, and ask no more questions. It is not that Rabbi Moses Taku believed in an anthropomorphic God; most probably, he did not.”

Having addressed claims of rabbinic belief in a physical deity, Judaism Reclaimed then proceeds to demonstrate, however, that none of this would be likely to impress Rambam, who states with equal force that any attempt to worship or connect “without knowledge” to God such as by attributing physical features to Him:

“does not in true reality mention or think about God. For that thing which is in his imagination and which he mentions is his mouth does not correspond to any being at all and has merely been invented by his imagination”. (Moreh Nevuchim 3:51)

Since, for Rambam, connection to God is an absolute reality and achieved primarily by means of the intellect, the quality and existence of such a connection is directly affected by the correctness of a person’s intellectual perception of God. He cannot accept, therefore, the notion that one should just accept the biblical text at face value. Instead biblical indications about the incorporeality of God combined with a powerful rabbinic tradition serve as signposts to scholars seeking to maximise their understanding of and relationship with God.

Find out more at www.TalmudReclaimed.com.

First posted on Facebook 10 November 2024. For comments and discussion, click here.

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.

The House of the Resting Shechinah -- Human attempts to conceptualize God

The coming week’s parashah poses a thorny theological challenge – the notion of God ‘residing’ in a specific location within the physical world. In his dedication of the first Mikdash (Kings I, the wise king Shlomo was highly sensitive to this complexity, stating: 

 “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”. 

Nevertheless, Shlomo puts aside his apparently unsolved conundrum and states:

"That Your eyes may be open toward this house night and day, toward the place which You said, 'My Name will be there;' to listen to the prayer that Your servant will pray toward this place”.

It is possible that Shlomo’s petition embodies an approach neatly formulated in a far later era by Rabbi S. R. Hirsch, which recognises that God’s existence and essence lie well beyond human comprehension, and instead chooses to focus exclusively on the practicalities of the God-human relationship. R’ Hirsch was adamantly opposed to what he regarded as the over-philosophising of descriptions of God in the Torah, accusing its proponents of causing God’s Personality to become “increasingly blurred and indistinct to our perceptions”. Rather, 

“belief in the Personality of God is more important than the speculations of those who reject the attribution of material features to God”.

Professor Joseph Dan, a leading scholar in the subject of medieval Jewish thinkers, proposes a similar interpretation of anthropomorphic statements in the writings of the Rishonim – most striking among them the Bohemian Rabbi, Moshe Taku. R’ Taku’s Ketav Tamim at first glance contains overwhelming evidence of Rabbinic belief in the notion that God has physical attributes, a fact not missed by Prof Marc Shapiro (The Limits of Orthodox Theology) who regards R Taku as the “most significant” example of Rabbinic corporealism. Prof Dan however, whose opinion is not mentioned in The Limits…, writes that:

He [R’ Taku] insists on the literal acceptance of the prophets' descriptions of their visions as well as the anthropomorphic references to God in talmudic-midrashic literature. He does not do so because of his belief in the literal veracity of these descriptions; he only insists that they represent the maximum that can be conveyed concerning God's essence and appearance, and that any further inquiry cannot lead to valid conclusions. God chose to reveal to us in the scriptures whatever is found in them: man should be satisfied with that, and ask no more questions. It is not that Rabbi Moses Taku believed in an anthropomorphic God; most probably, he did not.

Just as R’ Hirsch regarded human speculations as to God’s essence as futile and distracting from the primary religious endeavour since “the maturest mind of the philosopher knows no more about the essence of God than the simple mind of a child”, R’ Taku is similarly dismissive of attempts to place God within what he perceives to be a restrictive rational framework: “they are issuing decrees to the Creator as to how He must be. By doing so they are degrading themselves”. (Some fascinating debate surrounding the proper interpretation of R’ Taku’s work has been taking place in the comments section to this recent blogpost of R’ Slifkin relation to a chapter of Judaism Reclaimed).

Rambam, however, who studied in a philosophical setting more confident in its ability to discern “absolute truths”, is more prepared to embrace the fruit of rational human contemplation even concerning God (he crucially identifies the human intellect with the “image of God” of Bereishit). While he strongly asserts that the human intellect and language cannot make any positive pronouncements in this area, he does allow and even require us to declare what God is NOT. In a similar vein, he is sufficiently confident in the binding nature of his rational conclusions to declare that God’s inability to perform the impossible or take on what we perceive to be limiting physical attributes “signifies neither inability nor deficiency of power on His part”. Rambam’s confidence in human rationality leads him to the philosophising of anthropomorphic passages in the Torah which dominates the opening section of Moreh Nevuchim. Others such as R’ Taku and R’ Hirsch appear to have been more convinced of the limitations of human speculation regarding the divine. Their interpretation of anthropomorphic texts was therefore limited to the practicalities of the religious message they sought to convey.

First posted to Facebook 22 February 2020, here.

One Torah to guide them all: divine depictions and careful contradictions

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Beha’alotecha opens by observing how the parashah’s narratives provide a clear insight into the broad range of spiritual levels that existed among the Jewish People in the Wilderness. We look at how the Torah caters for this diversity with laws which are nuanced and applicable to people on all different rungs of the ladder of spiritual growth.

This aspect of the Torah’s breadth of applicability is of primary concern to Rambam, who places great emphasis on the ability of the Torah to be relevant to the entire nation. For this reason, he explains, the Torah adopts a style of depicting God through the extensive use of anthropomorphism that, if taken literally, is not merely inaccurate but actually blasphemous. Rambam justifies this practice by invoking the maxim dibrah Torah belashon bnei adam — that the Torah ‘’talks in the language of man’’ in order to ensure that God’s existence is fully accepted and understood, even by people whose minds are equipped to relate only to physical existence rather than metaphysical spirituality. The Torah therefore describes God in human terms, portraying Him as moving, speaking and standing — activities which are truly applicable only to physical beings. The use of such terms implies that God’s actions are governed by the same physical limitations as man; they are therefore blasphemous when applied to God.

While the Torah employs anthropomorphic terminology when describing God and His actions, the Targum plays the crucial role of indicating to readers that anthropomorphic descriptions are not to be understood literally. Rambam writes glowingly of how Onkelos’ “translations” subtly departed from the Torah’s literal physical descriptions of God while doing so in a way that the masses were able to comprehend. Onkelos achieved this by, for example, referring in the context of God “moving” to God’s Shechinah (Presence) rather than God Himself, and by God “revealing Himself” rather than descending (a verb that depicts motion from one place to another). Rambam’s position is consistent with the great importance accorded to the Targum by the Gemara, which writes that the Targum Onkelos is an explanation of the Torah’s text which can be traced back to Ezra and which, the commentaries tell us, was part of the oral tradition which originated from Sinai.

Rambam’s position on anthropomorphism, specifically the notion that the Torah initially encourages heretical views as a necessary stepping-stone to achieving true beliefs – is one that many are liable to find shocking. A broader perspective of Rambam’s approach, however, allows one to appreciate that the Torah’s function is not to confront the Jewish People abruptly with a list of strict truths and harsh demands. Rather, it is a handbook which has been drafted in such a way as to coax and guide them towards correct conduct and beliefs (we examine certain examples of this phenomenon). The tension which arises from the need to incorporate within a single system both the ideal pursuit of divine truths and the common perception of religious piety is a central theme in Rambam’s thought, and underlines the Torah’s ability to cater simultaneously for multiple religious levels within the Jewish People.

The late Prof. Marvin Fox writes, in his highly-recommended Interpreting Maimonides, that it is this tension between which underlies the phenomenon of the “contradictions” which Rambam discusses in his introduction to Moreh Nevuchim. Responding to the Maimonidean theories advanced by academics such as Leo Strauss, who understood Rambam to be hinting that he had been forced to conceal his true radical views from the ‘masses’, Fox argues instead that they are indicative of Rambam’s religious realism. Rambam was acutely aware of the delicate balance which must be maintained between what he saw as the Torah’s ultimate goal of elevated intellectual connection to God on the one hand and the practical realities and imperfections of everyday religious engagement on the other.

In one example, he cites the claim of Maimonidean contradiction on the subject of prayer. Rambam teaches the philosophical truth that the only true praise of God is silence, since we are unable to formulate any accurate descriptions of God’s attributes. Yet he also codifies and upholds liturgical references to God being, among other things, “great and mighty”, tacitly recognising the need of the human spirit to express itself in words. Fox concludes that, in allowing both the denial of divine attributes and the duty to pray, Rambam “seems to affirm that there must be a place within a single system for the demands of both religious piety and philosophical truth”.

First posted on Facebook 7 June 2020, here.

God only knows? Divine knowledge according to Rambam, Ralbag and Ibn Ezra

Guest post by Rabbi Dr Benjamin Elton, Chief Minister of The Great Synagogue, Sydney

The thorny theological challenge of relating to Divine knowledge – in particular as it can be reconciled with the doctrine of human free will – features in several chapters of Judaism Reclaimed. Perhaps the most radical position to be found in Jewish tradition is that of Ralbag (Gersonides), who concludes that God’s knowledge relates to “universals” of the various species but not to details – including details of specific human actions. Ralbag, writing in Book 3 of Milchamot Hashem, further claims that this was also the view of the famed Spanish sage Abraham Ibn Ezra.

When the Torah in this week’s parashah records God as saying “I will descend now and see, whether according to her cry, which has come to Me, they have done; [I will wreak] destruction [upon them]; and if not, I will know.”, Ibn Ezra appears to comment that God’s knowledge relates only to generalities (the Avi Ezer super-commentary by Rabbi Shlomo HaKohen of Lissa disputes this interpretation of Ibn Ezra’s words).

My intention here is not to advance the approach of Ralbag, which is certainly an outlier in Jewish thought, but rather to highlight the implications for our assessment of Rambam who people too-often attempt to characterise as a radical Aristotelian who allowed his Greek philosophy to dictate to his interpretations of the Torah. It is important to see how other Jewish thinkers of his era described him in this matter. Ralbag writes:

“It seems that Maimonides’ position on this question of Divine cognition is not implied by any philosophical principles; indeed, reason denies this view, as I will show. It seems rather that theological considerations have forced him to this view.”

In the essay below, Rabbi Dr Elton provides a fascinating insight into just how far Rambam strayed from Aristotelian thought on the subject of Divine knowledge. He explains in the process why it was repeated in Hilchot Teshuvah, despite having already been included in Hilchot Yesodei HaTorah where Rambam addresses the nature of the universe.

How does God think? Understanding Rambam H. Teshuva 5:5

I want to examine a passage in the Rambam’s Mishneh Torah which is regularly read and almost never understood. In the middle of Rambam’s Laws of Repentance he takes a philosophical detour and asks how it is possible to reconcile Divine foreknowledge with human free will. If God knows what we are going to do, how can we have the ability to choose whether to do it or not. Rambam answers:

Know, that the answer to this question is longer in measure than the earth and broader than the sea, and many great elements and ranking mountains are suspended thereon; but it is essential that you know this fundamental matter which I outline. In the second chapter of the treatise of Fundamentals of the Torah (2:9-10) it was already elucidated that the Holy One, blessed is He does not know of things with a knowledge which exists outside of Himself, like, for instance, people do, for they and their knowledge are two separate things; but, He, may His Name be exalted and his knowledge are One, and it is not within the power of the knowledge of man to attain this matter clearly, and even as it is not within the power of man to attain and find the truth of the Creator…

This being so, it is not within our intellectual power to know in what manner the Holy One, blessed is He knows all the creatures and their actions, but we do know without a doubt that man's behaviour is in the hand of man, and that the Holy One, blessed is He neither draws him nor issues edicts against him to do as he does. And, not solely because of having accepted the religion do we know that there is no predestination, but even by clear evidence of the words of wisdom. Because thereof it is said in prophecy that man is judged for his actions according to his actions, whether they be good or evil, and this is the very foundation upon which all the words of prophecy depend.

This is a difficult and perplexing passage. As Ra'avad noted, and protested against, Rambam’s explanation does not answer the question, it just raises a philosophical idea that by Rambam’s own admission no one can understand. Further, what is it doing in H. Teshuvah, especially when Rambam has already explained it earlier in the Mishneh Torah, in H. Yesodei HaTorah?

To understand this we have to look at the Aristotelian aspects of Rambam’s epistemology, and its connection with his theology. Aristotle (at least as understood in the Arabic philosophical tradition that Rambam inherited) saw that there was movement in the world and therefore posited a first mover which causes all the other movement. This mover (a sort of Aristotelian god) is entirely passive, eternal and perfect. As all things move towards perfection they are moving towards this first mover, which is the cause of all movement in the world. Part of its perfection is omniscience, but it is omniscience of a very particular type. It only knows universals, that is to say, the concept of a horse or a table. It does not know about particular horses and tables.

In that way, its knowledge is just like our knowledge, because our knowledge is also limited to the concepts of things but does not encompass the things themselves. Let us take an example. I have knowledge about horses in general, and I know some specific things about particular horses. But I don’t know everything about horses in general, or anything at all about every single horses that exists: everything they have ever done, and certainly not everything they will ever do. Furthermore, the knowledge I possess of these horses exists only in my head. I have taken sense data I have picked up in my encounters with horses, abstracted from that data and thereby created a piece of knowledge that resides inside my mind. What I know about horses is an abstract derived from all the data I have derived from real horses, that has been processed by my mind and exists in my mind. Thus in the case of myself and horses, and indeed every piece of knowledge that I have, the thing being thought about, the process of thinking, and the thinker, are all one. This is equally true of the Aristotelian first mover and of people.

But Rambam says explicitly that God and people do not think in the same way. That is because Rambam believes that God has knowledge that the Aristotelian first mover does not have. God knows every particular. What is more (and this is totally incomprehensible) God even has ‘knowledge’ of material things. That is an absurd concept to us, because a physical object cannot get into our minds. The idea of something exists in our mind, but obviously not the thing itself, that remains outside our mind. By contrast, all spiritual and material things exist in the mind of God. Indeed, they only exist at all because they exist in God’s mind. God did not acquire knowledge of them (if God ever acquired knowledge that would imply a change in God, and that is impossible), they exist because God ‘knows’ them. If that does not make sense to us, we should not be surprised. Rambam says explicitly that the human mind is incapable of comprehending such a notion. Therefore, while we and our knowledge are not one, because the horse or the table remains outside our minds, they are not outside the mind of God, because God and God’s knowledge are absolutely one. It is not within our ability to understand that concept, but it remains true.

Rambam expressed this in the Guide for the Perplexed (3:21)

Our knowledge is acquired and increased in proportion to the things known by us. This is not the case with God. His knowledge of things is not derived from the things themselves; if this were the case, there would be change and plurality in His knowledge; on the contrary, the things are in accordance with His eternal knowledge, which has established their actual properties, and made part of them purely spiritual, another part material and constant as regards its individual members, a third part material and changeable as regards the individual beings according to eternal and constant laws. Plurality, acquisition, and change in His knowledge is therefore impossible. He fully knows His unchangeable essence, and has thus a knowledge of all that results from any of His acts. If we were to try to understand in what manner this is done, it would be the same as if we tried to be the same as God, and to make our knowledge identical with His knowledge.

We can now see why Rambam included this point in H. Teshuvah 5:5. It is not an attempt at an answer at all, rather it is sharpening the question. It is easily possible to reconcile human free will with the sort of omniscience Aristotle’s first mover has. But the omniscience of God as Rambam understands it, seems totally incompatible, yet Rambam assures us that it remains the case. He tells us that it is ‘essential’ that we know that God’s knowledge of every details of past, present and future is absolute, and yet as he says at the end of the halakhah (in a statement which flows perfectly logically from what has come before) people have complete free will and are judged according to their exercise of it. That is why this brief discussion is repeated in H. Teshuvah, because it is the central concept that makes teshuvah compatible with Rambam’s concept of God.

I am grateful to the scholars I discussed this question with, especially Dr Daniel Davis.

First posted to Facebook 5 November 2020, here.