Biblical criticism and far-fetched conspiracy theories

By Nissim Bellahsen and Shmuli Phillips

In recent years, this group has featured a number of critiques and discussions of biblical criticism, contrasting the approaches taken by traditional and academic scholars to explaining apparent idiosyncrasies within the Torah’s text. On some occasions, however, we take a step back and gasp at how this academic field is able to produce such a steady supply of far-fetched theories based on shoddy scholarship and speculative assessments. More often than not, these posts are to be found on a particular website which promotes “Torah and Biblical Scholarship”.

We examine here another example of such a phenomenon (link below), an article by Prof. Rabbi David Frankel, from the Schechter Institute of Jewish Studies in Jerusalem, which relates to last week’s parashah. The article proposes that many of the narratives in the book of Bereishit concerning the patriarch Yitzchak initially belonged to an independent extra-biblical source. According to Frankel's theory, it is not clear that the "oldest Isaac traditions" consider him to be the son of Avraham at all. While the final form of the Torah continually asserts this genealogical connection, the early traditions of Genesis 26, Frankel argues, provide no indication that Yitzchak was the son of Abraham. Rather, he continues, Yitzchak was an independent figure whose life events were copied by the Torah into Avraham’s narratives – a process which explains a number of commonalities between their life stories.

Working back from this conclusion, Frankel utilises several tools in order to distinguish what he believes to be the “early traditions of Genesis 26” from the Torah as we have it today. Wielding the critics’ notorious scalpel Frankel highlights the fact that, once we conveniently cut out all of the repeated references to Avraham and God, Genesis 26 now represents an independent account of Yitzchak’s life stories. In support of his theory, he notes that the Yitzchak narrative of Genesis 26 can still be read as a cohesive narrative once these inconvenient verses have been excised. Such an argument however is demonstrably flawed.

Tolkien enthusiasts will recall the curious character of Tom Bombadil, whose narrative is so tangential to the primary theme that it was omitted from radio and cinema reproductions of The Lord of the Rings. While Bombadil makes an occasional appearance in earlier Tolkien writings and the Lord of the Rings plot indeed reads quite fluently without him, what would we make of a literary critic who suggested on this basis that his was a later story implanted into Tolkien’s trilogy by a later independent redactor?

Additional evidence is presented by Frankel in support of his theory that the Yitzchak passage was originally an older, independent source. He notes a series of apparently unexpected similarities between Yitzchak’s experience in Gerar and that of Avraham in parashat Vayeira – arguing that it is illogical for Avimelech to have ignored his prior encounter with Avraham when engaging subsequently with Yitzchak.

Such an argument, however, reveals an alarming methodological flaw which undercuts many of the conclusions that Frankel then seeks to propose. While it is true that “in the context of Genesis” Avraham’s adventures in Gerar appear “only a few chapters earlier”, a simple calculation based on the text itself shows that over 70 years separate these events from Yitzchak’s later travels (Yitzchak was not yet born when Avraham visited Gerar but was over 70 years old when he journeyed there himself). Viewed in this chronological context, it appears unlikely – as Radak points out – that Avimelech is the same Philistine king who interacted with Avraham 75 years earlier. Rather Avimelech is a title used to refer to all Philistine kings (see e.g. Tehillim 34:1), much like Pharaoh was a general title borne by all ancient Egyptian monarchs. Furthermore, as Radak also points out, Yitzchak had not been seen in these parts during the intervening 75 years having seemingly divided his time between Chevron and the mysterious Be’er Lacha’i Ro’i. It is thus far from obvious from a plain reading of the text that Avimelech’s successor and his fellow Gerarites would have automatically associated the reclusive Yitzchak with his well-known, missionising father.

Returning to the somewhat similar challenges which Avraham and Yitzchak encounter on their travels, we are entitled to ask how unexpected some of these phenomena really are. If we can transport ourselves back to the lawless ancient world of Canaan and Egypt, where the kings enjoyed absolute power and “there was no fear of God”, should we be surprised that unprotected beautiful female travellers should attract unwelcome attention from local rulers? Even a millennia later, Achashverosh is considered within his rights to hoover up all the beautiful girls of the kingdom for his own purposes, while the Torah attempts to limit such behaviour by commanding that Israelite kings “do not amass an excess of wives”. In places of depravity and corruption such as Sodom men too could be in danger, as well as those like Lot who sought to protect strangers from harm. The dangers faced by vulnerable travellers in the Ancient Near East are graphically depicted in the appalling episode of Pilegesh Begiveah in the book of Shofetim. We can speculate therefore that our forefathers’ requests to conceal the true nature of their marital relationships may have been no more remarkable than a modern-day middle eastern traveller requesting that his wife lie about carrying gifts for others in order to avoid unwanted scrutiny at the ELAL security check.

Far more serious flaws, however, plague some of the basic premises upon which Frankel’s theory is constructed. Frankel is quick to pronounce Yitzchak’s involvement in the book of Bereishit as unimportant to the overall narrative and therefore a likely later addition. He is of course entitled to his own assessments, but other readers of Bereishit may note not only that Yitzchak’s birth and early years are central to the narrative of Avraham, but also the important role Yitzchak appears to play as a pivot between the extrovert Avraham and the more measured and complex figure of Ya’akov.

Frankel’s proposals also bear significant ramifications for references to God’s covenant with Yitzchak in other areas of the Torah. In his eagerness to demonstrate that Yitzchak’s story can be disentangled from the story of Bereishit, does Frankel stop to consider the implications of hastily excising God’s promises to Yitzchak from the authentic text of the Torah? Once all mention of such revelations have been summarily deleted from Genesis 26, readers are likely to be confused by later passages (Shemot 32:13, 33:1; Devarim 9:5, 34:4) which claim that the land of Israel was promised to Yitzchak as well as broader explicit references to a prior covenant with Yitzchak (Vayikra 26:42, Devarim 29:12).

Are we to assume that all of these verses were also silently devised and seamlessly implanted within the biblical text by our heavily-overworked redactor? Must they now also fall victim to Frankel’s voracious scalpel? We leave our readers to judge whether Frankel’s theory represents a superior and more convincing rendering of the biblical narrative than what can be achieved from simply taking the Torah’s text at face value.

Frankel's article here.

First posted to Facebook 30 November 2022, here.

The stop-start status of pre-Sinaitic statutes

As we traverse the book of Bereishit, the subject of our ancestors’ observance of Torah law frequently surfaces. For many of us, our Judaism is so dominated by the regimen of halacha that we find it hard to relate to earlier role models who might have legitimately worshipped God in a very different manner. This leads us to embrace literal renderings of midrashim which, for example, depict Avraham and Lot as anachronistically observing the commandment of eating matzot on Pesach – centuries before the Exodus would occur.

The pre-eminent position popularly awarded to Rashi among Torah commentators has led to this being widely regarded as the only – or at least the mainstream – legitimate approach. Patriarchal episodes, such as Ya’akov marrying sisters, which contradict this narrative are typically treated as exceptions for reasons of necessity. It is certainly important, however, to be aware of how other traditional commentators dealt with this matter.

A central verse in this discussion is God’s praise for Avraham having “kept my safeguards, my commandments, my decrees and my instructions” (Bereishit 26:5). Rashi’s commentary to this verse cites a midrashic teaching that Avraham observed not only biblical laws which would later be revealed, but also rabbinic laws instituted to protect the integrity of biblical law.

Radak, by contrast, limits the scope of these teachings – presumably reading them in the context of the reality that none of these laws had yet been revealed and in some cases did not yet bear the symbolic significance that they would later attain. The “commandments and instructions” that Avraham observed, he therefore concludes, can only be referring to the sorts of “sichli” commandments which can be logically deduced. Noting the midrashic teachings that Avraham even observed safeguards such as erev tavshilin, Radak explains that this conveys that Avraham was so meticulous and precise in his observance of the rules which he kept, that he made his own additional regulations which went beyond what was strictly necessary.

Some commandments, however, clearly did pre-date the Sinai revelation. A prohibition against murder is related early in the book of Bereishit, and rabbinic tradition expands this to encompass a whole set of Noachide laws. Specific instructions were also given to the household of Avraham regarding circumcision and, as we read yesterday, to the descendants of Ya’akov concerning consumption of the gid hanashe (sciatic nerve).

It is with regard to gid hanashe that Rambam sets out what he calls a fundamental principle of how to understand these pre-Sinaitic laws. All of the mitzvot, explains Rambam in his Commentary to the Mishna, that we keep today, we do so because they were commanded to Moshe in the desert. Even if these were previously commanded to our ancestors such as circumcision and gid hanashe, this is not the reason that we are bound today. As is noted in that Mishnah (Chullin 7:6) – and further expanded upon in Judaism Reclaimed– the way in which such laws were observed in the pre-Sinai era sometimes varied from how the Torah would ultimately fix them.

While our ancestors seem to have observed at least some of what was to become Torah law, they did so with a degree of flexibility, with the discretion to determine how the law should best be applied to their particular circumstances. Once these commandments were to become a form of National Law at Sinai, however, they needed to be fixed into the framework of a legal system (see Moreh Nevuchim 3:34).

While it appears therefore that the Jews are bound by the Sinai revelation rather than prior prophetic pronouncements, the requirement of non-Jews to observe Noachide laws presumably remains as it was. Rambam, in Hilchot Melachim, writes that Adam HaRishon was commanded in these basic laws of human civilisation – an understanding which makes these laws sufficiently universal for corrupt and evil societies such as Sodom to receive punishment (he also notes that Moshe was subsequently commanded to enforce these laws).

Perhaps the most interesting commandment in this regard is that of circumcision. Rambam writes (Hil. Melachim 10:7) that the descendants of Yishmael and Eisav were not obligated in this since only Yitzchak, who remained loyal to Avraham’s religious and ethical teachings, was commanded with circumcision. This is difficult to reconcile, however, with his next statement:

“Our Sages related that the descendants of Keturah who are the offspring of Avraham that came after Yitzchak and Yishmael are also obligated in circumcision. Since, at present, the descendants of Yishmael have become intermingled with the descendants of Keturah, they are all obligated to be circumcised on the eighth day.”

Does this mean that the children of Keturah did remain loyal to Avraham’s teachings? We do not hear much about the fate of these descendants. And, interestingly, these laws appear to remain operative – at least in theory – based on their pre-Sinaitic instruction.

First posted to Facebook 11 December 2022, here.

How did the ancestors' actions influence the fate of their descendants?

The majority of the narrative of the book of Bereishit involves family feuds, fratricidal strife and Machiavellian machinations as various characters jostle for membership and seniority within the Patriarchal clan. What exactly are these early Israelites seeking to achieve and why does this inter-generational intrigue dominate the opening the book of the Torah? 

What is readily apparent is that the Torah places great significance on the identity and character of the Jewish nation's Founding Fathers (and mothers). There is an oft-quoted aggadic concept, ma'aseh avot siman lebanim, that the actions of ancestors can shape the spiritual destiny of subsequent generations. How exactly are we to relate to this perplexing principle and its apparent ability to effect a chain of causation which spans many generations?

Judaism Reclaimed examines this principle based on the approaches of Rabbi Yehuda Halevi and Rambam. In his Kuzari, R’ Yehudah Halevi describes how the early generations after Adam contained a number of worthy and holy individuals. Nevertheless, it was only Avraham and the Avot who succeeded in establishing a community built around the values and teachings of God, with the potential to develop into a chosen nation which could receive the Torah. On this basis, Avraham and the Avot could therefore be said to be 'assisting God' in fulfilling His purpose of creation. This idea appears to be expressed in a midrash which refers to Avraham becoming a "partner with God in creating the world", since his spreading of God's word allowed for the realisation of God's objective of a nation to accept and observe His Torah.

“My Name was not known among My creations and you caused it to become known. I will consider you to be a partner with Me in the creation of the world”. [Bereishit Rabbah 43:7]

This partnership was formalised at the berit bein habetarim, where Avraham was promised that the community he was building would be part of an eternal covenant with God in the land of Israel, and would grow to form God's chosen nation. This relationship may represent the loftiest level to which man can aspire, not merely imitating God’s attributes, but positively partnering Him in his project to bestow goodness upon mankind — the highest form of "vehalachta bidrachav" – walking in God’s ways.

Despite their auspicious ancestry, the formation of a chosen nation from the descendants of the Avot was no simple task. R’ Yehudah Halevi writes that a special "hashgachah" or divine guidance was required in order to prepare these descendants for the special mission bequeathed to them through the merits of their forefathers:

“And God guided the children of Yaakov also when they were in Egypt so that they would increase … He was concerned that they be raised until comparable to their ancestors Avraham, Yitzchak and Ya’akov … at that time the whole Israelite nation became fitting to see the divine light within them and for God’s providence to be revealed within them.” [Kuzari 1:95]

The notion that the Avot merited for special providence to guide the fate on the nation that would be formed from their descendants is also mentioned by Rambam in Moreh Nevuchim (3:51).

The nature and strength of this hashgachah related directly to the extent and nature of Avraham’s merits. Midrashim describe how the nature and strength of this hashgachah was directly commensurate to the extent of the merits of Avraham and the Avot:

“Rava said: In the merit of Avraham stating: “I am but dust and ashes” his descendants merited two commandments: the ash of the red heifer and the dust of Sotah … In the merit of Avraham stating: “From a thread to a shoelace [I shall not take from the plunder]” his descendants merited two commandments: the thread of blue [tzitzit] and the strap of tefillin.”

The second pair of commandments may be of particular significance, as Rambam teaches that tzitzit and tefillin are among mitzvot which attract a high level of hashgachah.

Conversely:

“For what reason was Avraham punished by his descendants being enslaved in Egypt for 210 years? ... Shmuel said it was because he doubted God’s ways [His promise of the land of Israel] as it says “And how will I know that I will inherit it?”

This second source makes it clear that any minor fault or seemingly trivial detail of the Avot's conduct could have major repercussions for the emerging nation's spiritual preparedness and fortunes.

The severe potential consequences of any ancestral misstep can help to shed light on the fraught episodes in the book of Bereishit. In Avraham’s own household we find that Sarah insists on driving away Yishmael, whose conduct in her assessment does not befit his being a ‘building block’ of the chosen people. The matter was “exceedingly evil in the eyes of Avraham”, who may well have assumed that Yishmael and Yitzchak could share the burden and responsibility of continuing his divine covenant.

National hashgachah is also dictated by the conduct of the matriarchs as is indicated by the intricate process of finding a suitable wife for Yitzchak, and further in the vivid midrashic accounts of Rachel’s merit protecting her descendants.

It is in this context that we can understand the intensity of the struggle between Ya'akov and Eisav for control of the foundations of the future nation. If Eisav were to provide the building blocks of the nascent Jewish people, his undesirable conduct would be liable to limit the positive effect of the combined merits of the Avot. This in turn would inhibit the spiritual guidance and development available to the chosen people. It was therefore crucial for Ya’akov to be the sole recipient of his father’s blessings which made their recipient, in the words of Abarbanel “part of the covenant with Avraham, designated for providential guidance”. A similar dynamic dictated the struggle between Yosef and his brothers; Yosef viewing himself as the primary (and perhaps exclusive) recipient of the Abrahamic mission and his brothers seeing his ambitions as illegitimate and requiring a strong response.

First posted on Facebook 20 November 2022, here.

Anachronistic Avot and time-travelling Talmudists

One burgeoning genre of divrei Torah which appears to be enjoying increasing popularity in recent years perceives revered biblical figures – typically the Avot – as having been bound by Biblical and Talmudic law, and then proposes ingenious resolutions as to why certain laws appear not to have been fully observed. This style of dvar Torah, which allows brilliant yeshiva students to draw upon their well-honed Talmudic reasoning even when studying the written Torah, can be traced back to a verse in yesterday’s reading:

“Because Abraham listened to My voice, and kept My charge, My mitzvot, My chukkot, and My Torot."

How are we to understand the meaning of mitzvot, chukkot and Torot?

Rashi, drawing on an aggadic passage, suggests that this means that Avraham observed – presumably with the aid of prophecy – not only the Torah’s Biblical commandments, but even later Rabbinic restrictions such as Eruv Tavshilin. The primacy accorded to Rashi in Torah interpretation has led to this position being viewed as mainstream or even unanimous. At a recent event I heard a learned rabbi introducing his dvar Torah with the words: “Everyone know that the Avos kept the whole Torah…”. He proceeded to examine how Avraham could have married Hagar, an Egyptian princess, despite the Torah’s later prohibition against such a relationship (perhaps, he suggested, Avraham had the status of a convert and was therefore not bound by this rule).

While this approach is certainly pursued by a number of commentators and has caught the popular imagination in recent times, it was not always seen as so mainstream. While the above speaker was confident that “everyone knows the Avos kept the whole Torah”, there was a time when this was quite openly disputed. A quick survey of traditional commentaries to this verse shows that Sforno, Chizkuni, Rashbam – and even Ramban in his “derech hapeshat” – all interpreted these terms to refer only to commandments and character traits which had been revealed to Avraham up until this point. Radak goes further, showing how the aggadic source which Rashi draws upon does not mean that Avraham observed all Rabbinic and Biblical ordinances which would only be legislated (and bear relevance) millennia later. Rather it teaches that Avraham acted strictly and set careful boundaries within those specific laws which he did observe.

This in turn leads us to more profound underlying questions, which are explored in Judaism Reclaimed and Talmud Reclaimed: What function and benefit might there be in the observance of various forms of mitzvot which had not yet been commanded – particularly observances which were only later commanded to commemorate national events which had not yet taken place (for example the Avot were said to have eaten matzot on Pesach). And how many of these finer details of Talmudic law are understood to have been transmitted from Sinai and which are likely to have been developed by later Sanhedrin-type courts? (see further www.TalmudReclaimed.com).

One style of Aggadah which would seem to bolster this genre of apparently anachronistic divrei Torah involves later Talmudic attempts to recast biblical episodes as relating to delicate details of Talmudic debate. In its chapter on Aggadah, Talmud Reclaimed cites a passage from Sanhedrin 19b which interprets an episode from the book of Shmuel as a prime example.

The subject of this passage is a promise made by Shaul to give his daughter, Michal, in marriage to David for the price of 100 Philistine foreskins. Shaul subsequently reneges on his promise, while David continues to demand that Shaul permit him to marry Michal. While the biblical storyline appears to revolve around palace intrigue, alliances and jealousies, the Talmud rereads it entirely as an intricate legal debate as to whether marriage can be formalized through forgiveness of a loan in combination with the provision of an object of some value.

After highlighting a number of other similar Aggadic accounts, Rabbi Yisrael Moshe Hazan (Iyyei HaYam #187) argues that such Aggadic traditions date back to an era when the Oral Tradition was not generally written down. Attaching intricate legal rulings and debates to popular biblical passages served therefore as a memory aid to recall these complex Talmudic principles.

It is striking that for many this situation is now turned on its head, with Talmudic scholars often only acquainted with biblical passages and verses that are cited in Talmudic discourse – along with the accompanying Aggadic interpretation.

First posted on Facebook 19 November 2023, here.