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.

A time to argue -- with God?

The closing section in the chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Ki Tisa addresses a troubling theological problem as to when, if ever, it is appropriate for a prophet to argue with God. At first glance, the evidence on offer seems perplexing and contradictory. Avraham engages in a lengthy debate with God in an attempt to rescue the sinful cities of Sodom, but does not utter a single word of protest when bidden to offer his own innocent son as a sacrifice. Moshe’s petition on behalf of the Jewish people is welcomed and accepted by God in the aftermath of the Golden Calf; however, a seemingly similar petition over the Jews’ treatment at the hands of the Egyptians leads, as Rashi explains, to a divine rebuke.

A possible approach to resolving this issue may be to distinguish between scenarios in which God reveals His intentions to a prophet, apparently engaging in discussion regarding His future plans, and cases in which God issues clear-cut divine command. The negotiation between God and Avraham regarding the fate of Sodom is introduced by God stating that it would be improper to conceal His intentions from Avraham – and Avraham does not actually reject or challenge any command by taking a stand on behalf of the doomed Sodomite denizens. This can be contrasted with the passage of the Akeidah which, opens with a clear command to Avraham to take and sacrifice his son. No room remains for negotiation, and any rejection would therefore have been improper. (A later chapter of Judaism Reclaimed examines the Akeida more fully in the context of religion and morality).

The same distinction may hold true in the incidents involving Moshe. He had been given a clear divine instruction to approach Pharaoh in order to seek the Jews’ release. Moshe’s subsequent questioning of this command (albeit having already carried it out) was thus considered an exhibition of insufficient faith. Similarly in the book of Yonah, Yonah is rebuked for failing to obey God. Since God’s word came as a command, there was no room for questioning or negotiation. In the aftermath of the Golden Calf, however, God’s initial statement of “hanichah li”, with which He introduces the suggestion that He annihilate the Jewish people, can be seen as inviting a response and therefore requiring Moshe’s input. It is for this reason that Moshe’s pleading and petitioning were not seen as a sign of inadequate faith.

One particularly fascinating case study in this area is that of Noach, whom the Torah describes as having been saved from the flood on account of his righteousness and good conduct. Noach appears to have been presented with a clear instruction to construct the Ark in order to save himself, his close family and selected members of the animal kingdom; he was thus not in a position to enter into a debate with God. However, there are sources which appear to take him to task for his failure to petition on behalf of his unfortunate neighbours. The Zohar for example explains that the floodwaters are referred to as “the waters of Noach” in order to indicate his partial culpability in not attempting to intervene on behalf of his generation. Perhaps we can suggest that, even though Noach had received a command, this command consisted of a preparatory measure of building the Ark, and did not therefore necessarily preclude him from entering into a debate with God on a finalised matter.

First posted to Facebook 12 March 2020, here.

Rosh Hashanah prayer: is God listening?

As we ready ourselves for the upcoming Rosh Hashanah shul-marathon, it is striking how much the Jewish new year is characterised and dominated by prayer. Yet when we set aside the haunting traditional melodies and important communal aspects of the Rosh Hashanah services, the concept of praying to God is one that many people seem to find challenging.

There are two primary problems that people sometimes have with prayer. The first is from a rationalist perspective: Why do I need to pray? Does God not know what I want and need better than I do? Am I seeking to change God’s mind? Cause a Perfect Being to alter His plans?

Various rational responses have been developed in response to these sorts of questions. Judaism Reclaimed examines those of Rabbi S. R. Hirsch and Rambam.

R’ Hirsch notes that the Hebrew term to pray lehitpallel is in the reflexive form, meaning that it focuses inwards as an action performed for oneself. He continues that the focus of communal prayer from a fixed prayer-book liturgy is primarily intended:

to infuse oneself with Divine ideas. Jewish prayer is not an outpouring from within oneself; rather it means infusing the heart with truths that come from outside of oneself. If prayer were merely an expression of what the heart already feels, prescribed prayer…at fixed times would be absurd. For such prayer would assume that certain emotions could be present on demand at predetermined times. Instead, “hitpallel” means to steep oneself with lasting, eternal truths because they are likely to fade away from one’s consciousness.

This view sees prayer primarily as an educational tool which serves to guide one’s thoughts and perspective towards a more elevated religious viewpoint. In the specific context of Rosh Hashanah, it would mean starting the year with a two-day humble meditation on what it means to “appoint God as king”, and appreciating both the individual and communal responsibilities that arise from such a realisation when planning our year ahead.

A second rational approach to prayer emerges from Judaism Reclaimed’s analysis of Rambam’s approach to prayer. Without entering into specifics concerning his theory of providence, Rambam views all aspects of the world as being governed by hashgacha klalit – the natural order that runs according to His wisdom from the time of Creation. Only the human being, out of the entire creation, possess the Tzelem Elokim “image of God” which grants it the potential to refine and perfect its character and intellect – a process through which we can form a relationship with God and thus be worthy of individual providence. This lofty goal can only be achieved gradually and represents a lifetime’s work.

A key function of prayer, according to Rambam’s understanding, is helping human beings form, maintain and improve this relationship with God. He advises in the third section of Guide to the Perplexed:

Know that the intended function of all of these acts of worship such as reading from the Law and prayer and performing other commandments is only to train one to be involved in the commands of God and to free oneself from worldly matters …You should empty your thoughts of all matters when you read the Shema and pray

Prayer provides a crucial (and regular) opportunity for people to unburden their minds and transcend the stresses and strains that tie them down in day-to-day life. Instead they are able to focus their mind on their relationship with God and see their life in that context. A relationship which, in its own right, is understood to enhance the providential input one can expect to receive in one’s life.

A second aspect of prayer that people sometimes struggle with is the difficulty in not knowing how a prayer has been received. Has the prayer been answered? How do I even know if God is taking any notice?

While the rationalist templates of Rambam and R’ Hirsch that we have described offer some degree of function of prayer regardless of how it received, this remains quite distant from the popular idea of prayer with which most people are likely to be entering shul later this week.

This suggests that there remains a further function of prayer. The biblical template in which key characters such as Hannah – who we read of over Rosh Hashanah – cry out to God in pain for many years, pouring out their heartfelt troubles in prayer. Hannah’s prayer, which is a prototype upon which Jewish law has constructed various features of contemporary prayer, reaches beyond our limited rationalisations of the utility of prayer and how we believe a Perfect Being is able to relate to us.

Rambam places great emphasis upon the fact that we cannot fathom the very nature of God’s knowledge, and deems His providential interactions with the physical world to be one of the secrets of the Torah. While Rambam emphasises that the primary function of prayer is its role in strengthening the crucial relationship between God and humanity, he also considers it to be critically important that the nation cry out in prayer to God over any calamity which befalls them.

In conclusion, I would suggest that the optimum approach to prayer integrates all of these different components and approaches. The primal cry out to God – the inexpressibly powerful feelings represented by the Shofar’s cry – represents the most basic biblical features of emptying one’s soul to God. But our prayers should not be limited to our personal feeling that God is responding by providing what we perceive to be our needs. And our assessment of prayer’s utility should not be entirely dependent on its ability to satisfy us emotionally.

To this end we must bear in mind the approaches of Rambam and R’ Hirsch that the very act of standing before God and praying reinforces important religious principles within our consciousness, and allows us to maintain and strengthen our relationship with God for the upcoming year.

I would like to take this opportunity to wish all the readers of this group a Shana Tova – a wonderful happy and healthy new year in which all their prayers are answered, and in which their relationship with God is meaningfully and profoundly developed.

First posted to Facebook 5 September 2021, here.

Is belief in the Torah's divinity irrational?

By Rabbi Professor Sam Lebens

“Do you really believe in all of that Judaism stuff? But you’re so clever!” I’m never quite sure if this is a compliment or an insult. But it’s a question I’ve been asked. To save me from the accusation of lying to others, people must think that I’m engaged in some sort of compartmentalization.

The religious scientist, when in the laboratory, puts nothing down to super-natural causes. Every phenomenon requires a natural explanation. And yet, the same religious scientist, when outside of the laboratory is willing to believe in miracles. Once again, the only explanation is that the religious intellectual must have erected an internal iron curtain between their religious persona, which they occupy in the synagogue and at home, and their worldly persona, which they occupy the rest of the time.

Professor Solomon Schimmel writes (https://www.thetorah.com/.../my-personal-struggle-with...):

For years, I have been studying Orthodox Judaism and exploring the question of how it is that modern, highly educated people can make unreasonable faith claims. Specifically, how is it that Modern Orthodox Jews, in the face of overwhelming evidence and logical arguments, believe that God revealed the entirety of the Pentateuch, word for word, to Moses at Sinai and/or in the wilderness?

Let’s examine his example: belief that God revealed the entirety of the Pentateuch to Moses. James Kugel, a leading contemporary Biblical scholar, claims that his discipline stands upon a number of assumptions; assumptions which are owed to Spinoza. According to these assumptions:

1. Scripture is to be understood on its own terms, rather than through the interpretative lenses of any particular church or religious tradition.

2. We have to make efforts to understand the language of the Bible and its own world of ideas, without imposing later conceptions upon it.

3. Consequently, we should assume that scripture means just what scripture says, even when its plain meaning contradicts contemporary values, mores, and conceptions, unless internal textual considerations force upon us a figurative interpretation.

4. To understand the meaning of scripture, we first of all have to investigate how the books were put together. We have to construct biographies for the authors, based upon knowledge of their writings and their historical context, and understand their words in light of these biographies.

5. In considering the words of the prophets, one must recognize that they frequently contradict one another. Hermeneutics of reconciliation are to be eschewed in favor of recognizing the multiple conflicting voices beneath the surface

But Orthodox Judaism rejects many of these assumptions. We think that the Torah is properly interpreted by the Rabbinic tradition; that God speaks to us through these texts; that God may have meant to communicate things to this generation through the same words that communicated other things to earlier generations; and that the words of the prophets are all true. It follows that their words must admit of a reconciliatory reading.

As Kugel sees it, what separates Orthodox interpretations of the Bible and contemporary academic scholarship is just:

the set of unwritten instructions that guide them in reading the biblical text. Accept the one’s, and the other’s interpretations appear irrelevant at best, at worst a willful and foolish hiding from the obvious. It is thanks to this crucial difference in assumptions that these two groups can read exactly the same words and perceive two quite different messages.

Perhaps an analogy will be helpful.

Meticulous scholarship has led some theorists to suggest that ‘William Shakespeare’ was merely a pseudonym for Sir Henry Neville. Detailed study of Neville’s biography renders his life a compelling fit for having authored the works attributed to Shakespeare. Neville’s handwritten notes, found in the books of his extensive library match exactly what we’d expect to be find in the books of a playwright conducting research so as to write Shakespeare’s plays. Notwithstanding this evidence, and this meticulous scholarship, the vast majority of Shakespeare scholars remain resolutely unconvinced.

A key proponent of the Neville theory, John Casson, told the Guardian newspaper: “There are no letters from William of Stratford. His parents were illiterate, his daughters were illiterate: how do you become the greatest writer ever when your family are illiterate?”

Can you hear the prejudice in those words? The son of illiterate parents simply couldn’t have authored such majestic work. Accordingly, noted Shakespeare expert, Brian Vickers put the theory down to:

snobbery, and ignorance… They are unaware that the Elizabethan grammar school was an intense crash course in reading and writing Latin verse, prose, and plays – the bigger schools often acted plays by Terence in the original … Above all, he had a great imagination, and didn’t need to have been to Venice to write The Merchant of Venice, or Othello. What’s most dispiriting about these anti-Stratfordians is their denial of Shakespeare’s creative imagination.

If you resolutely assume from the outset that x is false, then you’re almost bound to find ‘compelling evidence’ that x is false. Likewise: if you assume that God wasn’t the principle author of the Pentateuch, then certain textual anomalies are bound to take on a different light than they would if you assumed that God was the author. But the anomalies in question really don’t serve as compelling evidence that God was not the author, unless you’re already assuming that God was not the author (just as the evidence for Neville only becomes salient on the assumption that it couldn’t have been Shakespeare who wrote those plays).

Spinoza’s assumptions are attractive to Biblical Scholars. They want their discipline to approximate the standards of a natural science. Even the most religious of scientists tend to adopt a stance that is sometimes called methodological naturalism. According to this stance, it is always inappropriate to appeal to the acts of God in coming to a scientific theory. Even if God exists, we should keep him out of the laboratory.

Methodological naturalism is not compartmentalization. God created a world that abides by natural laws. Science progresses as we try to discover what those laws and regularities are without any appeal to super-natural processes beyond the empirical data. But why come to this chaotic world with the assumption that its many varied phenomena should yield to one set of laws? Why think that the basic principles that govern the development of a fetus should govern also the birth of distance galaxies? Science operates in the hope that unifying laws will be found. But that faith is blind, unless you believe that the universe itself, with all of its varied phenomena, is the creation of a law loving God. In this way, theism can serve as excellent scaffolding for making sense of the sciences. But, scaffolding holds a building up from the outside. God is not welcome in the laboratory itself.

That’s well and good for the sciences. But if the question is whether or not God was involved in writing the Torah, then using a discipline that adopts a methodological naturalism is to beg the question. Methodological naturalism rules out any theories that use God to explain phenomena. So you can guarantee, before you start your investigation into who wrote the Bible, that methodological naturalism won’t discover a Divine author. But its failure to find a Divine author is not evidence that God wasn’t involved. It’s not a finding. It’s not a conclusion. It’s just an assumption. You don’t need to be a fundamentalist, or manifest a pathological compartmentalization, or show disrespect to the academy, to recognize the logical fallacy of petitio principia (i.e., of begging the question). If anything, it is the scholars who raise these accusations who show a basic disregard for the philosophy of science.

Samuel Lebens is associate Professor in the philosophy department at the University of Haifa, he is also an Orthodox Rabbi and Jewish educator. He is the author of The Principles of Judaism (Oxford University Press), and has a forthcoming book, The Guide to the Jewish Undecided, which is set to be published by Maggid in 2022.

First posted to Facebook 19 December 2021, here.