Torah from Sinai or torah.dotcom? A cursory reading of the two curses

By Daniel Abraham and Shmuel Phillips

Ahead of a couple of days of heavy cheesecake-eating and festive reflections, this post addresses the passage of “tochachah” curses delivered at the conclusion of the sojourn at Sinai. There are in fact two such passages to be found within the Torah’s text, corresponding to both occasions on which the nation sealed a covenant with God. The first, in Leviticus 26, is identified by some commentaries as the “Scroll of the Covenant” that Moshe reads out to the nation at Sinai, while the second (Deuteronomy 28) is delivered as part of Moshe’s series of final speeches on the Plains of Moab.

While these admonitory passages in Leviticus 26 and Deuteronomy 28 bear a number of striking similarities, scholars such as Professor Marc Brettler (link below), argue that the differences between them are so stark, that they reflect the work of independent authors, at different times, each advancing their own theological agenda. As is typical of such claims of multiple authorship of the Bible, a close examination of the evidence cited in support reveals the weak and speculative foundations that these theories are built upon. We will examine some of his primary arguments before showing how his claims can be addressed more simply based on traditional Jewish sources.

Brettler begins by writing, 

“The similar openings ואם לא תשמעו לי – “if you do not heed Me” and some common following terminology should not lull the reader into a false sense that the texts are similar.”

However, this is an attempt to hastily gloss over and dismiss an abundance of highly significant similarities.

Importantly, the phraseology and content of the curses are often not only similar, but in some instances exactly the same. Both sections employ identical terms to describe the guarding and fulfilling God’s mitzvot. Both passages threaten “consumption and fever” “ּ שַּׁחֶ֣פֶת קַּדַּ֔חַת" (Lev. 26:16 and Deut.28:22) – the only times that these terms appear in the entire Bible. The two passages share numerous further strong similarities in content and language. For instance, both threaten that the skies and earth will become iron and copper, both speak of the Israelites being smitten before enemies, enemies eating their produce, land not producing crops, suffering through plagues and sword, sieges leading to famine and eating one’s own children, being exiled and subsequently living in terror with only a few remaining in the land.

In the face of the undeniable parallels of language and content, Brettler offers other avenues of argumentation to make his case:

“The punishing God of Leviticus and Deuteronomy is also depicted differently. Leviticus’s God is anthropomorphic, in contrast to Deuteronomy, which depicts a non-anthropomorphic deity bringing about Israel’s punishment. In Leviticus 26, for example, God sets his face against Israel, וְנָתַתִּ֤י פָנַי֙ בָּכֶ֔ם (v. 17), walks with them, וְהָלַכְתִּ֧י (v. 24), and ultimately decides not to smell their offerings, וְלֹ֣א אָרִ֔יחַ בְּרֵ֖יחַ נִיחֹֽחֲכֶֽם (v. 31). This typifies P and H, but not D—beginning already in the Priestly Genesis 1:27, humanity is created in the divine image.”

However, the analysis of the very same text by celebrated source critic Richard Elliot Friedman produces a conclusion which is diametrically opposed to that of Brettler. In Who Wrote the Bible? Friedman states emphatically:

“in P there are no blatant anthropomorphisms. In JE, God walks in the garden of Eden, God personally makes Adam and Eve’s clothes. Personally closes Noah’s ark, smells Noah’s sacrifice, wrestles with Jacob, and speaks to Moses out of the burning bush. None of these things are in P.”

In truth, the extreme positions staked out by both Brettler and Friedman are tenuous and mistaken. There are ample examples of anthropomorphisms in both the supposed “P” and “D” documents (see footnote below).

Brettler proceeds to contrast the nature of the covenant as depicted in the two passages:

“in Deut 28, Israel fades away—as a result of Israel breaking the covenant, God is released from any obligations toward Israel, and then are destroyed, while Lev 26 suggests that this is impossible, for the covenant always remains in force.”

Key to Brettler’s assertion here is his rendering of the root “שָּׁמֵ֖ד” as implying a total and complete destruction of the Jewish people. Such an interpretation can be challenged on two counts. First it requires the Curses of Deuteronomy 28 to be read in total isolation from the two immediately following chapters which appear to contextualise (and even reference) these curses, reassuring Israel that no permanent destruction will ever be inflicted on it.

Secondly, a further passage – Deuteronomy 4:25-31 – features a brief summary of the curses from both Leviticus 26 and Deuteronomy 28. In this summary we see the word “שָּׁמֵ֖ד” employed in a context which unambiguously demonstrates that the threatened destruction will not be absolute or permanent. While the first verse states

“I call heaven and earth this day to witness against you that you shall soon perish from the land that you are crossing the Jordan to possess; you shall not long endure in it, but shall be utterly wiped out (שמד).”

This is immediately followed by a reassurance that the Jewish people will in fact repent, and eventually return to their land:

“For the Lord your God is a compassionate God: He will not fail you nor will He let you perish; He will not forget the covenant which He made on oath with your fathers.”

As opposed to Brettler’s fragile theorising, Judaism Reclaimed analyses the stylistic and dynamic distinctions between the two passages of Curses based on the insights of Rabbi S. R. Hirsch.

The language used to describe the sinners in the Leviticus Curses — “You have acted casually (bekeri) with me” and “break my covenant”— portrays a people which fails to recognise its relationship with God and despises His commandments. In particular, the oft-repeated term of keri (behaviour which ignores God’s existence) connotes a world view in which there is no practical role for God. The Torat Kohanim midrash strikes a note that is consistent with this tone, tracing through this passage a gradual religious decline that eventually leads to total 'kofar be'ikar' atheism.

God's response to His nation’s complete rejection of Him, in keeping with the principle of 'middah keneged middah' (“measure for measure”), is further disassociation: “I too will proceed to deal ‘casually’ (bekeri) with you”. This Leviticus passage was one of the last passages taught at Sinai before the nation began its journey towards the Promised Land.

In his commentary to parashat Beshalach, R' Hirsch demonstrates how the primary lesson being conveyed to the Jews at this early stage of their desert journey was the recognition that God's Providence covers the provision of everyday necessities such as food and water. This Providence is not limited to extraordinary national moments such as the Exodus and splitting of the sea. The corresponding passage of Curses in Leviticus therefore focuses on God’s response to the lack of belief in His involvement in everyday life and the nation’s regression towards complete denial of God.

By the time we reach Deuteronomy however, the nation has spent 40 years traversing the desert, absorbing lessons of Divine Providence. Moshe’s final lectures, which are recorded in the book of Devarim, are focused on preparing them for the challenges that lie ahead in the land of Israel: these challenges include implementation and observance of the Torah in a new setting where they will be surrounded by the allurements of Canaanite paganism. The Curses of Deuteronomy 28 contain no radical references to revocation of covenants: the nation’s relationship with God is never questioned. Rather, the focus is on the people listening to God and observing His specific commandments.

Correspondingly, the punishments listed in this passage make no mention of God repudiating His covenant with the Jewish People. Rather this far longer list of specific punishments is more nuanced and detailed, possibly to correspond in a “measure for measure” manner to the breaking of specific commandments.

Most telling, however, is the contrast between the conclusions of these two tochachot. The Mount Sinai passage, laced with ominous forewarnings that God will nullify His covenant with the Jewish people, needs the immediate and powerful reassurance that God will never actually forget His promises to the forefathers and their descendants. The second tochachah on the other hand, despite its dramatic threats of destruction and annihilation, does not insinuate that God's relationship with the Jews will ever end. No verses of consolation are therefore contained within it – though they can be inferred from subsequent passages within Deuteronomy.

As opposed to carving up and attributing the Torah’s text to multiple authors and agendas, this approach demonstrates that by being attuned and sensitive to the Torah’s internal dynamic and message one can understand apparent idiosyncrasies and inconsistencies as reflecting different stages of the Jewish people’s relationship with God.

Original Article by Marc Brettler here.

Selected examples of Anthropomorphism in Deuteronomy:

• Arm and hand: Deut 4:34, 5:15
• Finger: Deut 9:10
• Eyes: Deut 11:129
• God walking: Deut 23:15
• God hears and sees: Deut. 26:6
• Face: Deut 31:17, 18

First posted 16 May 2021, here.

Mountainous mystery: was the Torah actually received on Shavuot?

On what day was the Torah given? On what date do we celebrate the festival of Shavuot? Seemingly simple questions, yet ones for which the Torah’s text provides no clear answer.

In a fascinating passage, Rabbi S. R. Hirsch notes that Shavuot is unique among all biblical festivals in that no calendar date is prescribed for it – rather, it is observed seven weeks from the omer offering. Combining a selection of Talmudic traditions and calculations, he demonstrates that the Torah was most likely understood to have been given on the 51st day after the Exodus. Thus the 50th day from the omer is in fact the day BEFORE the Lawgiving (which the Torah identifies as having taken place on the sixth or seventh day of the third month).

On this basis, the day that is elevated to a festival is NOT the day of the Sinai revelation, but rather the final day of counting leading up to that great day. This indicates that the ‘festival of Matan Torah’ does not relate to the actual giving of the Torah; it celebrates our making ourselves worthy of receiving it. Jewish tradition depicts the nation as having undergone a significant transformation during this seven-week period (7 itself is a number understood to symbolise a purifying process). This transformative process, which culminated in them camping, united, at the base of Mount Sinai, it what we celebrate as a festival. It is the conclusion of this same seven-week period which both determines the date of the celebration, and accounts for the name “Shavuot” by which the festival is commonly known.

As we also examine in Judaism Reclaimed, the Lawgiving itself was in no way concentrated on that day at Sinai – the Torah was transmitted in the course of 40 years. Some of its most important features may only have been taught to the people on the Plains of Moav decades later. Both R’ Hirsch and Rambam emphasise that the primary significance of the Sinaitic spectacle was “in order that the people hear when I speak to you, and they will also believe in you forever”. Rambam understood that the people somehow participated in Moshe's prophecy to an extent that authenticated and legitimised all of his Lawgiving over the subsequent decades. In this way, perhaps, the entire Torah can be said to have ‘originated from Sinai’.

On a separate note, another favourite Jewish-school-Shavuot teaching which Judaism Reclaimed addresses vividly depicts God holding Mount Sinai above the nation and threatening it with destruction if it fails to accept the Torah. Maharal asks why this menacing threat was necessary in light of the Jews’ faithful utterance of “na’aseh venishma” (“we shall do and we shall listen”). His suggested answer is that the timing of this threat was intended to impart a clear message that the Torah’s laws are absolute and binding. It was thus required to reinforce the Jews’ faithful acceptance so that they should not imagine that their voluntary acceptance of the Torah could at any time be subject to reversal.

But can we relate this midrashic teaching in any way to the Torah’s actual description of events at Sinai?

While the nation’s declaration of “na’aseh venishma” is widely quoted, it is normally done so without the immediately preceding words: “And he took the Book of the Covenant and read it within the hearing of the people, and they said, "All that the Lord spoke we will do and we will hear."” A midrash Mechilta, along with other commentaries (see also Devarim 28:69), identify this “Book of the Covenant” as being none other than the fearsome litany of rebukes and curses enumerated in parashat Bechukotai – described by the Torah as one of the final passages transmitted at Sinai.

Might the vivid midrashic depiction of the mountain being held threateningly above the nation’s heads be an allusion to the significance of the tochachah passage of rebuke at Sinai? If so, it could then be construed as an embodiment of the message that our relationship with God and the Torah is premised not on our fickle and fluctuating feeling and fortunes but on an accepted sacred duty – and privilege – which we, as Jews, bear and carry with us throughout our lives.

First posted to Facebook 27 May 2020, here.

Antisemitism: the unpleasant key to Jewish survival?

The latest round of warfare in Israel, coupled with obsessive worldwide media coverage, has aggravated rising anti-Semitic trends in many countries. Shocking attacks and threats against Jews have shaken many in America and the UK. As community leaders weigh up the most appropriate ways to safeguard their members, many religious Jews may find themselves searching for a theological perspective on the world’s oldest hatred.

Judaism Reclaimed examines anti-Semitism in the context of the covenant between God and Avraham at the brit bein habetarim. In the conversation that takes place at the time of the covenant, Avraham asks God "Bemah eida?": how can I know that my descendants will be worthy of inheriting the Land of Israel? That they will fulfil the daunting task of standing apart from the other nations of the world as a leading light? God responds that Avraham's descendants will be enslaved in a strange land. The clear implication is that this suffering would hold the key to their ability to succeed as the Chosen Nation.

It is an observable historical phenomenon that collective experiences, and particularly common suffering, can play a crucial role in establishing and maintaining a strong shared identity. The years in Egypt saw Ya'akov's family blossoming into a nation. Following this formative period, the nascent nation would receive the Torah and, with it, face the formidable task of surviving and succeeding as an island of monotheism amid a vast and raging sea of paganism. It was therefore an absolute necessity that they should develop a cast-iron collective identity, an identity that was independent from the surrounding nations and cultures and which could not be easily compromised.

This may be the meaning of the "kur habarzel" — the iron crucible which the Torah later uses to describe the formative aspect of the Israel’s suffering in Egypt. It also accounts for the midrashic emphasis on the manner in which the Jews guarded their names, language, food and clothing. These being classic indicators of the shared expression of cultural identity that the years of slavery had been intended to cultivate, we can understand why the Midrash considers that it was in the merit of these attributes that the redemption from Egypt was earned.

In his Beit Halevi book of essays on the Torah, Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik draws upon some of these ideas as part of his analysis of anti-Semitism, a seemingly illogical phenomenon which has accompanied Jews around the world throughout the centuries. Initially, he is startled by a verse from the Book of Psalms (105:25) which includes the Egyptian hatred and oppression among the acts of kindness that God performed for the Jewish people. He then notes midrashim that connect the start of the oppression to the Jews' attempts to conceal their circumcision and Jewish identity. His great-grandson and namesake R’ Joseph B. Soloveitchik appears to endorse this idea, describing how a history of persecution and martyrdom has hardened attitudes towards any form of assimilation and reinforced the distinct identity and values of the Jewish people.

The key to understanding both the suffering in Egypt and continued anti-Semitism through the ages may be to view them not as a punishment, but rather as God's tool to ensure that His promise to Avraham at the Covenant would be observed. According to this argument, it is only as a result of unabated anti-Semitism, particularly severe at times of heightened assimilation, that the Jews have survived as the Chosen Nation, retaining the ability to carry out their holy and extremely challenging mission. This idea is given full expression in Radak’s commentary to a passage in Ezekiel (20:32), in which the prophet addresses God’s refusal to countenance Jewish attempts to assimilate among the nations:

“But when they disobey My commands, I will strengthen the nations against them…Israel, whom I took out from the house of slavery to be my treasured nation etc, and I to them a God, My eyes will be constantly on them for good and bad, as it states in the prophecy of Amos (3:2) “Only you have I known from all of the families of the world, therefore I will be attentive to all of your sins”. And if you wish to depart from My worship, I will not grant permission for this. Even though you will be many years in exile, you will never cease to be a nation before me…and with force I will reign over you, and I will purify you …”

First posted to Facebook 2 June 2021, here.

Goats and good choices: a profound message from the Yom Kippur ceremony

The national Jewish atonement on Yom Kippur at the time of the Mikdash – one which is currently the focus of the daf yomi study – involves the bringing of two identical goats over which lots are drawn: one is thereby selected “LaHashem” as a korban, while the second “La’Azazel” is sent to its rocky death.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch offers a profound insight into the symbolic significance of the goats and their prominent place in the Yom Kippur atonement service. Focusing on the strict requirement that the two goats be identical in size, appearance, and value, R’ Hirsch sees their respective fates as representative of the opposing destinies between which all of mankind is free to choose.

The path of “LaHashem” is the self-sacrifice of renouncing a self-centered existence. What seems initially to be a loss of self, however, is in fact an entry into a higher and more genuine form of existence; what appears to be a renunciation is in fact a gain of the most sublime values.

[It should be pointed out that to R’ Hirsch the Mikdash is not simply a giant slaughterhouse but rather the materials, arrangement and ceremonial performance of the korbanot represent and embody the entire spiritual and moral calling of the Torah. Accordingly, some of his longest Torah commentary is centred around the parshiyot which recount these details – Terumah, Tetzaveh and Vayikra.]

The path of “La’Azazel” by contrast begins with an apparent preservation of freedom and independence, stubbornly rejecting all notions of sacrifice and devotion to a higher, holy authority. Ultimately, however, in his escape from the sacrifices demanded by the Sanctuary, he fails to see the abrupt precipice that opens behind him and dooms him to a sudden death.

These two paths of “LaHashem” and “La’Azazel” are open to each person to choose between. That the goats must be identical symbolizes the fact that no one can blame his standing, material circumstances, or position for his choices. A precondition for repentance and atonement is the realization that one must take full responsibility for one’s choices and actions, which is why the goats play a central role in the Yom Kippur atonement ceremony.

This explanation is consistent with R’ Hirsch’s approach to explaining the process of viduy (confession) which is so central to the Yom Kippur prayer. Rather than providing automatic absolution through the recitation of sins, the Jewish notion of viduy involves verbalizing, and thereby admitting to oneself that one has indeed gone wrong and taking full responsibility for one’s wrong choices. That acceptance of free will and responsibility is a central precondition to atonement is further reflected by the central position it occupies in Rambam’s Hilchot Teshuva.

[This passage is adapted from a chapter of Judaism Reclaimed: Philosophy and Theology in the Torah which looks at demonic and other apparent biblical references to a ‘dark side’ such as the Azazel goat].

First posted on Facebook 7 October 2019, here.