Tamid and the evolution of the commandment to recite Shema

Yesterday’s Torah portion detailed a number of activities, such as lighting the menorah and offering the daily sacrifices, with which the daily Mishkan workload was scheduled to start and conclude. Several of these activities attract the description 'tamid', which means ‘constant’, a term which sits uncomfortably with the reality that these activities were performed only once or twice a day, in the morning and evening. This difficulty is highlighted by the observation of Rashi, at the start of our parashah, that regular daily events can attract the term tamid even if they are not continuous. Why should this be?

One explanation of Rashi's statement is that the use of the term tamid to describe regular but non-constant activities provides us with a fundamental insight into how the dynamics of these cyclical events are viewed from the Torah's perspective. The opening and closing ceremonies of the Mishkan’s daily routine were not intended merely to supply an element of solemnity or grandeur. Rather, they contextualise and grant legitimacy to everything that happens during the span of time that passes between them. By validating the various offerings that were brought throughout the day, the opening and closing activities can be seen to exert a constant influence and thereby justify the Torah's description of them as tamid. Judaism Reclaimed explores the significance and symbolism of each of these practices in this context.

The importance attached to how a unit of time is commenced and concluded does not just apply to the Mishkan procedures. As part of the Gemara’s discussion of the lechem hapanimprocedure, a comparison is drawn between the use of the word 'tamid' to describe the lechem hapanim, and the requirement that Torah never be absent from one’s mouth. The Gemara concludes that this commandment can be fulfilled even by studying a minimal amount of Torah each morning and evening.

This obligation to fix a regular time for Torah learning each morning and evening, is codified by Rambam and the Shulchan Aruch; it exists in addition to the general obligation to study Torah during any available time. The added dimension of these fixed study times is that they encase a person's mundane activities, imbuing them with the spirit of Torah study and thereby ensure "lo yamush" — that the Torah is never entirely removed from his mouth.

Talmud Reclaimed develops this idea further in a central case study which explores the origins of the commandment to recite Shema twice-daily. Building upon Rambam’s principle, that matters which are disputed among the sages do not belong to the body of transmitted laws received from Sinai, we note that there is a Talmudic argument (Berachot21a) as to whether the mitzvah of Shema is biblical or rabbinic in nature. This would seem to indicate that the commandment was not transmitted immutably from Moshe. On the other hand it does seem to be unanimously accepted in the Talmud that some passage of Torah must be recited, at the very least, each morning and evening.

The suggested resolution, which draws some support from the Pnei Yehoshua and Sha’agat Aryeh, is that the original Sinaitic requirement was that each person commence and conclude their day with the study of some passage of Torah. As seen above, by encasing one’s more mundane daily activities in between sessions of Torah study, this imbues religious and spiritual meaning to all of what one does in the interim period.

At some point, however, the Sinaitic tradition of a biblical commandment to recite words from the Torah twice daily would have been fixed by the Court so as to apply specifically to the first sentence (or perhaps the first paragraph) of the Shema, the second paragraph being added as a purely rabbinic commandment. As suggested by the Pnei Yehoshua, this is likely to be because of the passage of Shema containing a declaration of the unity of God and an acceptance of the yoke of heaven. Matters which the Sanhedrin of the day is likely to have wanted to inculcate further into the hearts and minds of the nation undergoing particular challenges.

While the sages and Sanhedrin enacted this decree to narrow down the previously undefined obligation to study Torah (at least) twice-daily, the blessings recited over Shema may reflect the commandment in its initial undefined form – focusing on the importance of Torah study rather than mentioning the unity of God and accepting His authority and mitzvot.

For comments and discussion of this post on Facebook, click here.

Rambam's Messiah or a dystopian nightmare?

Yesterday morning I sat reading a book review in The Economist of Deep Utopia – a novel by Nick Bostrom which contemplates a future era in which all human work and activity is rendered redundant by progress in AI and robotics. The reviewer was deeply troubled by the nightmarish scenario and implications of the “terrible boredom” which would ensue once humans no longer have to dedicate the majority of their hours to earning a living and performing necessary chores. 

What struck me is the stark contrast of this reviewer’s outlook to that of Rambam in the closing statements of his Mishneh Torah:

“The Sages and the prophets did not yearn for the Messianic era in order to have dominion over the entire world, to rule over the gentiles, to be exalted by the nations, or to eat, drink, and celebrate. Rather, they desired to be free to involve themselves in Torah and wisdom without any pressures or disturbances, so that they would merit the world to come, as explained in Hilchot Teshuvah.

In that era, there will be neither famine or war, envy or competition for good will flow in abundance and all the delights will be freely available as dust. The occupation of the entire world will be solely to know God.”

It got me wondering how enthusiastic talk of “wanting to bring Mashiach now” should be translated practically. While a lot of focus is understandably placed on maximizing mitzvah performance and debating how and when a Mikdash might be built, how much of our nation would regard the Messianic era of Rambam and our sages as a utopian blessing rather than dystopian dullness?

One separate matter that this book review might resolve is how to reconcile and interpret some other difficult sources regarding the Messianic era. In a famous passage (Berachot 35b, see further discussion in Judaism Reclaimed), Rabbi Yishmael interprets the blessing contained in the Shema of “And you shall gather in your grain” to be envisioning an ideal future of great abundance. Rabbi Shimon objects that this would hardly be a blessing: if the super-abundance means that we are required to spend all day gathering in grain “what will become of Torah study?!”. Rather, he contends, the true future blessing can be found in Yeshaya’s messianic vision in which we will be able to sit and study while “strangers” will happily and voluntarily till our land.

Who might such strangers be? If it refers to non-Jews, how is this then to be reconciled with a further messianic prophecy of Yeshaya which describes how the nations will rush to learn the word of God from the Jews?

Well, if Nick Bostrom’s vision comes to pass, the “zarim” (strangers) who are tasked with harvesting the abundance and feeding humanity will be mechanized robotic ones, programmed with just the right amount of intelligence for the job. (I’ve recently wondered, during my weekly farm-volunteering in Southern Israel, if Rabbi Shimon would have been placated had he seen people in the modern era picking fruit while listening to hours of Shiurim and Torah podcasts!).

Finally, there are those who raise the question as to whether AI developments could even influence or render redundant the Maimonidean messianic vision of sages dedicating endless hours to Torah study and absorbing divine wisdom. With expected advances of technology, they ask, would the sages not just be able to plug a computer chip into their brains and thus instantly possess all the requisite Torah knowledge?

To understand the fallacy of such an assumption, I believe, one first has to be aware of the nature and function of Torah study (a matter explored at length in a chapter of Talmud Reclaimed). Torah knowledge is not simply a set of facts, laws and statistics which can be memorized or uploaded from a computer drive. Rather, as sources as diverse as Rambam, the Ba’al HaTanya and Rav Soloveitchik show, it is a relationship with God and perspective on the world which arises from immersing oneself in sophisticated Talmudic analysis. From absorbing such wisdom and training one’s mind sufficiently, a person can come to look at the entire world differently – from a more divine perspective.

In fact for Rambam, such a process is critical as a prior stage before one enters the esoteric areas of the Torah known as “Pardes” (Hilchot Yesodei HaTorah 4:13).

It is hard to imagine that delegating one’s Torah study to a robot can even begin to achieve these benefits. There is a derogatory concept in rabbinic literature of “Chamor Nosei Seforim” (donkey loaded with books) which refers to a putative Torah scholar who has merely memorized numerous sources without having properly understood or internalized their meaning. What we can hope for is that the advent of AI makes information so ubiquitous that all Torah rote-learning becomes unnecessary. If this occurs, it could allow for a shift of focus in the Messianic era to analysis of more profound principles and a utopian era in which we are free to develop our minds to that our “sons and daughters will prophesy” – a vision which represents the pinnacle of Rambam’s Mishneh Torah and vision of Judaism.

First posted on Facebook 2 June 2024.

AI and the future of robo-rabbinics

I must admit that I’ve never been a great one for sci-fi and the anxious talk of civilisation-ending supercomputers overtaking and enslaving humanity. Aside from my pocket chess computer defeating me with irritating regularity, the computers in my life have generally maintained an unthreatening distance and respected my personal space. 

If my Facebook feed is to be believed, however, my idyllic ignorance is soon to be shattered by the AI robots and their resounding march of progress. Some of them appear to be already signalling their hostile intentions through Chap GPT, leading learned friends and scholars (and some random people who the Facebook automatons have placed on my feed) to question what sort of future if any lies in store for rabbinics, halachic rulings and Torah study

So how much does Judaism value the intellectual input of robots and algorithms into the study hall of halachic deliberation? Will Robo-Rabbi kill the Yeshiva World star?

Very often, responses to this question will focus on the apparent “accuracy” of rabbinic responses, and whether these can be bettered by a computer chip. This though may be a red herring. While it is true that some halachic questions tend towards more technical, algorithm answers, even apparently-clearcut and rigid rules like kashrut can sometimes vary depending on subjective assessments such as shaat hadechak (extreme necessity), hefsed or hefsed meruba (loss or significant monetary loss).

Furthermore, it is important to acknowledge the irreplaceable human dimension and empathy within psak. A rabbi who has a profound understanding of his community, will sometimes give non-identical answers to the same question when asked by different congregants – because halachic rulings often require insight into the nature of the questioner. For this reason, objections have been raised in the past to the posthumous publishing of halachic rulings issued by great rabbis to specific individuals.

Even more crucially, though, we need to recognise the role within Jewish study of the process of establishing halacha. As I examine in my upcoming book, determining halacha and analysis of the related Talmudic passages was traditionally a single process. Talmudic analysis was largely centred around more practical questions, and halachic determination was a matter of directly analysing the relevant Talmudic sources rather than summaries made by later sages.

The gradual shift towards a codification of halacha, which went hand-in-hand with a Talmudic focus on hyper-analytical pilpul in European yeshivot, was heavily criticised by some of the leading rabbis of the time. One sage who was particularly vocal in his opposition was the Maharal, who considered that:

The sage has only that which his intellect provides him and allows him to learn from within the Talmud. And when his understanding and wisdom lead him to err, he is nonetheless beloved by God so long as he is issuing instructions based on the dictates of his reason…and this person is preferable to one who determines halacha from within one book, knowing not the reason for the matter, walking like a blind person along the way. (Netiv HaTorah, 16)

Crucial, according to the Maharal, is the process of engagement with the halachic analysis - of poring over Talmudic passages to compare, contrast and identify their conclusions. This process itself is more important than actually reaching any “objectively correct” conclusion. The implications for those who propose using AI to produce halachic rulings are clear.

Why is this process of halachic engagement deemed so critical?

Writing in Halakhic Man, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik develops the theory that Torah study is not focused simply on the question of how to establish practical Jewish law. Rather the student is involved with understanding the Torah and the world on the level of the abstract ideal. Drawing upon sources as diverse as Rambam and the Ba’al HaTanya, Rav Soloveitchik proposes that through immersing oneself in the world of Talmudic analysis, a person can absorb its wisdom and internalise its analyses to the extent that they can come to look at the entire world differently – from a more divine perspective. (My upcoming book will also analyse and develop this theory further).

It is hard to imagine that delegating one’s Torah study to a robot can begin to achieve any of these benefits.

In a related question, I was recently asked for my thoughts on the much-heralded advent of a computer chip which could plug into our brains and thus instantly provide us with all Torah knowledge when studying. This second question could perhaps be looked at differently – just having “neurological access” to an entire treasure trove of Torah could be seen as bolstering and enhancing rather than replacing the project of Torah study. In a similar vein, the wonderful array of online Torah resources – and Mesivta compilations of Talmud commentaries – have revolutionised the ease with which one can prepare a shiur.

While such benefits are certainly substantial, they are not without significant drawbacks. I have often found, for example, that the greater the quantity of information available, the less well it has been understood and internalised. Talmudic students confronted with compilations containing a mass of information and commentaries find it increasingly challenging to read and analyse the simple meaning of the biblical or talmudic text in its own right, without reaching for additional sources. Lacking a sensitivity to the nuances and challenges presented by the text, these students then fail to gain a real appreciation of what the commentaries are saying. My fear is that a computer chip which imported a mass of information into the brains of Yeshiva students would exacerbate rather than address this problem.

On a personal note, I find that I can quickly identify shiurim which based on are little more than compiling a mass of collated sources on a subject with scant analysis – which are typically very dull. What I really search for in a shiur, book or commentary is an original angle or insight. A new theory or piece of analysis which sheds light on the passage being studied and suggest broader principles which can be applied elsewhere. In order to produce such a shiur, a person must first have fully internalised and understood the meaning of the relevant source.

There is a derogatory concept in rabbinic literature of “Chamor Nosei Seforim” (donkey loaded with books) which refers to a putative Torah scholar who has merely memorised numerous sources without having properly understood or internalised their meaning. What we can hope for is that the advent of AI makes information so ubiquitous that Torah rote-learning becomes unnecessary. If this occurs, it could allow for a shift of focus to analysis of more profound principles and thereby provide a valuable service to the world of Torah.

Posted to Facebook 26 February 2023, here.