From biblical bad guys to oral law role models

There is a conflict between biblical accounts of wrongdoing by figures such as Yehudah and King David, which criticise them, and parallel accounts in the Oral Tradition, which exonerate or even praise them. This conflict tends to generate lively discussion and strong opinions on either side. Devotees of peshat– the simple meaning of the text – argue fiercely for the primacy of the biblical text over subsequent aggadic reinterpretations, while their opponents point to Talmudic statements to the effect that a literal rendition of the text, unaccompanied by the context of Rabbinic teachings, is mistaken and therefore illegitimate.

Judaism Reclaimed grapples with this sensitive topic at the conclusion of its chapter on parashat Ki Teitze, which examines the functions and broader relationship between the Written Torah and the Oral Tradition. Our analysis starts with Ben Sorer Umoreh – the Wayward and Rebellious Son. The written law depicts in vivid detail how the delinquent youth is delivered to and denounced before the Court by his own parents before suffering a stony death. The oral law however presents a surprising alternative:

“R’ Shimon said: …it never happened and never will happen. Why then was this law written? — That you may study it and receive reward. R. Jonathan said: 'I saw [a Ben Sorer Umoreh] and sat on his grave'.”

Having examined several inherent difficulties presented by the Gemara’s presentation of this dispute, the essay progresses to its primary theme: the dissonance between the positions presented (here and elsewhere) by the written and oral components of the Torah. We use Rambam’s dual interpretation of “Eye for an Eye” as a key to resolving these inconsistencies. First, in his Commentary to the Mishnah and Mishneh Torah (“these interpretations are obvious from the study of the Written Law … and have been implemented in every single Jewish court from Moshe until today”) Rambam emphatically rejects the notion that the biblical ruling was ever intended to be implemented literally. When explaining this phrase in Moreh Nevuchim however, Rambam focuses only on the literal measure-for-measure disclosed by the biblical text: “the intention here is to explain the verses [of the Torah] not the words of the Talmud”).

What emerges is a hypothesis based on a two-tier didactic system of Jewish law and values. The first tier is the core divine wisdom contained within the Torah’s written text, while the second is the relative flexibility of the Oral Law to cater – within acceptable boundaries – to the realities and weakness of the human condition. This idea is developed further with the suggestion that the Written Torah represents God’s attribute of strict Justice (which demands a literal “Eye-for-an-Eye” etc) while the Oral Tradition moderates this in light of the frailties of human reality and on the basis of God’s attribute of mercy. (This has a parallel in the writings of Rav Kook, here).

Armed with this principle, the chapter progresses to apply it beyond the Torah’s legal passages. The Talmud teaches that the righteous are judged by God in a truer, more intimate way, “kechut hasa’arah” – in accordance with His attribute of justice. Putting all of this together, the biblical text discloses the very real sins of its heroes, but told from the harshly critical perspective of God’s attribute of justice by which they are held fully accountable for any slight misstep.

By contrast, the attempted justifications and excuses advanced in the Oral Tradition can perhaps be seen as describing the reality of these sins on a level in which the nation as a whole would perceive and relate to them. From this perspective, in the words of Shabbat 56a “Whoever says that King David sinned is surely mistaken”. This means that whoever reads the biblical account literally, failing to make an allowance for its critical agenda when judging the righteous, will be left with an inaccurate impression of what the Torah intended to convey.

This approach bears the potential to shed light on peculiarities and ambiguities from within the written text itself, which uses King David as a gold standard against which subsequent kings – even the righteous Hezekiah and Josiah – are measured. Were David truly the adulterous murderer implied by a simple reading of the text, it would hardly be an accolade to write of these kings that they “followed in all of his paths”. This more balanced approach may also help us to understand subsequent prophetic pronouncements of Divine endorsement of the Davidic dynasty through which King David has become inextricably linked with the very idea of a future utopian Messianic era in Jewish thought.

First posted to Facebook 26 August 2020, here.

Responding to the Lag be'Omer tragedy

It is human nature to want to explore and suggest reasons for significant worldly phenomena and occurrences, particularly tragic events which strike at the heart of our own communities. As religious people, whose outlook and perspective of the world is premised upon a core belief in an all-powerful and providential God, our pain directs us to look for messages that God may be intending to send us. Some kind of constructive lesson that can, to a degree, enable us to rationalise and make some kind of sense of a tragic occurrence.

At this time of national mourning, I am reminded of a tragic episode a few years ago (and which I’ve mentioned in a previous post).

A bus crash on the outskirts of Jerusalem claimed a number of young Haredi lives. As the community mourned, Pashkevilim and religious media inevitably began to point fingers at the usual suspects including smartphones, silk wigs and insufficient Torah study. One thoughtful response, however, contained in a letter from the late Haredi leader, Rabbi Aharon Yehuda Leib Shteinman, caught my attention. Its profound message and direction has sadly not received the attention that it deserves:

“Even in the times of prophets they did not, except for few specific exceptions, pronounce for what reason God had brought certain things upon us…therefore it behooves us to improve ourselves but there is no question as to which area must be strengthened, for in any area that we improve there is benefit…”

This emphasis on seeking the correct response to tragedy rather than speculating as to its spiritual underpinnings is a prevalent theme in the writings of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik. In Kol Dodi Dofek he argues:

“We do not wonder about the ineffable ways of the Holy One, but instead ponder the paths man must take when evil leaps up at him. We ask not about the reason for evil and its purpose, but rather about its rectification and uplifting. How should a man react in a time of distress...In general the purpose of suffering is to repair the imperfection in man’s persona. The halakha teaches us that an afflicted person commits a criminal act if he allows his pain to go for naught and to remain without meaning or purpose.”

Unlike the bus crash Rav Shteinman was responding to, however, initial reports concerning events at Meron on Thursday night indicate that a more systematic failure seems to lie behind the disaster (the second tragic event of this sort to have occurred at Meron on Lag Be’omer).

As I go through in Judaism Reclaimed, Rambam considers that the vast majority of human suffering and misery in this world is caused not by God, but by poor human decision-making. Errors of judgment from people who lack proper character training, perspective and priorities in life.

The best way to honour the memory of the deceased is not to politicise the tragedy or to seek a version of the narrative that accords with our own political/religious affiliations and ideas. Nor should difficult questions be deflected with simplistic assertions that “whatever happened was God’s will and not for us to examine”. But rather it is for all involved to set aside egos and personal interest so that an open and honest investigation can take place. The best way to honour the victims is to allow this tragedy to change our societies for the better – and to ensure that such heart-breaking scenes are never to be repeated in the future.

First posted to Facebook 2 May 2021, here.

No man is an island? Individualism in Rambam's worldview

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Bemidbar begins by examining how the Torah approaches census-taking, before exploring the delicate balance between individual and communal needs – particularly from Rambam’s perspective. An earlier parashah has already taught us not to undertake a simple headcount “so that there will not be a plague in their counting”. Malbim understands that, as in parashat Ki Tisa, the census here was performed by collecting half-shekel coins. He then offers a rationale: such a census, emphasizing the standing of each family and tribe, bore the potential to undermine the unity and, with it, the national providential protection which the Jewish people merited. This was rectified by each person sending a half-shekel to public funds, symbolising that the individual can become complete only by uniting with others.

Malbim’s emphasis on the importance of community does not always seem to be supported, however, from Rambam’s writings. We cite several passages, such as his advice to a person to flee to the deserts and caves rather than remain in a city of sinners. Rambam’s emphasis on the individual appears to be driven by his understanding of the afterlife: 

“Ultimate perfection, however, pertains to you alone, no one else being associated in it with you in any way…therefore, you ought to desire to achieve this thing, which will remain permanently with you, and not weary or trouble yourself for the sake of others” .

Rambam’s statements, however, must be read in combination with his conclusion in Moreh Nevuchim: the individual’s intellectual connection to God does not by itself represent humanity’s crowning accomplishment. Quoting Yirmiyah, Rambam writes that the purpose of a person’s life should be 

“to comprehend and know Me for I am God who performs kindness, justice, and righteousness in the world, for these I desire”. 

It is not sufficient merely “to comprehend and know Me”—a task limited to gaining an abstract intellectual perception of God. Rather, a person’s ultimate achievement is to understand, internalize, and perform “Godly acts” of kindness. While this conclusion is difficult to reconcile with much of Rambam’s philosophical writings, which focus on the individual’s mission to form an intellectual connection with God, it is apparently more consistent with the model of the “holy men of Judaism” such as Avraham and Moshe, who are revered and acclaimed for their dedication to and assistance of the masses rather than for living lives of secluded contemplation.

Judaism Reclaimed synthesizes Rambam’s range of writings on the individual-community balance and proposes that he might have intended a three-stage process for drawing close to God. Accordingly, his opening Hilchot De’ot advice to distance from evil-doers and writings which endorse seclusion are directed at toward the “common man” who is still taking the initial steps in this journey. This first stage requires isolation from detrimental influences so as to facilitate meditation on and internalization of the Torah and Divine truths. As the isolated individual gradually perceives and connects to God, he undergoes a profound change which leads him to the second stage of his journey toward “ultimate perfection.” The final chapter of Hilchot Teshuvah describes how knowledge and understanding of God’s truths lead one to a deep attachment and “lovesick” obsession with God and His Torah. In Moreh Nevuchim, Rambam explains how this “obsession” it involves the person’s mind constantly being focused on God, despite simultaneous involvement in worldly affairs.

The concluding comments of Moreh Nevuchim, which advise a more public-spirited outlook, are seemingly addressed to one who has achieved the second level, “to comprehend and know Me,” thereby forming the constant mental connection with God. That person can now concentrate on emulating and ‘partnering’ God’s acts of kindness , conditioning and guiding the masses toward a connection with God and His truths.

Judaism Reclaimed proposes that this is the key to unlocking not only inconsistencies in Rambam’s writings, but can also explain some apparently contradictory phenomena from Rambam’s own life. We note and quote how Maimonidean scholars struggle to reconcile the altruistic and public-spirited Rambam with the individualistic philosophical model that he appeared to endorse, suggesting that different periods of his life may correspond to these respective stages of his writings.

The chapter concludes with a fascinating idea from Rabbi S. R. Hirsch on the extent to which people should be involved with or isolated from a community which falls short of their personal standards and values. Drawing on details of Avraham’s living arrangements and locations, R’ Hirsch understands that Avraham sought to balance Yitzchak’s upbringing and education away from the Canaanite influences while still avoiding total isolation. He concludes that education of the young is certainly advantageous in an environment which is generally positive toward the values being imparted. Complete isolation, however, which denies the student all contact with people of contrasting lifestyles and ideas, is a “dangerous educational mistake”: a young person who lacks the chance to compare his parents’ morals and ideals to those of others, is unlikely to appreciate and respect the contrast between the two. This in turn places him at risk of falling to outside influences whenever he first encounters them.

First posted to Facebook 20 May 2020, here.

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.