Tzav: the sacrificial symbolism of Rabbi S. R. Hirsch

Last week’s post examined the concept of animal sacrifice within Judaism, analysing Rambam’s controversial contention that these sacrifices were instituted in order to withdraw the emerging Jewish nation from its pagan associations. While Rabbi S. R. Hirsch does not subscribe to Rambam’s general position, he too takes great pains to point out how the Jewish conception of korban is fundamentally different from pagan ritual. This difference, he explains, is represented by the term “korban” itself, which is from the root “lekarev,” to draw near. Common translations of korban such as “offering” or “sacrifice” do not accurately convey the Hebrew term and promote the popular misconception that korbanot are intended to appease or placate higher powers. Instead, the term “lekarev” focuses upon the need of the makriv, the person bringing the korban, to draw close and dedicate all aspects of that person and his or her personality to God and His Torah.

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed relating to parashat Tzav takes the reader on a journey of Hirschian symbolism which, despite its sacrificial focus, affords the reader a window through which to view some unique and enlightening aspects of R’ Hirsch’s religious philosophy. It shows how R’ Hirsch first assembles halachic details from both the written and oral components of the Torah before exploring reasons for mitzvot. This perspective allows him to demonstrate how, in stark contrast to pagan ritual which emphasises shedding blood in order to appease angry gods, the Jewish korban sees shechitah (slaughter) as fulfilling predominantly a preparatory role for the deeply symbolic acts which follow. In Rabbi Hirsch’s understanding – for which we find support in Rabbi Yehudah Halevi’s Kuzari and the Talmud – each corner of the altar and each detail of the sacrifice’s processing is infused with profound meaning and represents valuable moral and spiritual truths.

Our chapter also examines the Hirschian understanding of shechitah and its significance as the first stage of the korban process. R’ Hirsch explains that, while humans and animals bear many superficial similarities, the process of shechitah highlights the crucial distinction between the essence and purpose of mankind and that of the animal kingdom. Unlike animals, humans possess both intellect and free will. The challenge facing them is how to control the instincts and urges which arise from their physical nature by engaging the intellect and free will with which they are endowed. When consuming meat, however, a person is incorporating animal flesh—symbolizing unrestrained physical instincts and urges—into his own body. The Torah therefore requires that such eating be preceded and prepared for through the act of shechitah, which represents the mastery and control of the human mind over the realm of animalistic physicality.

This theory, explains R’ Hirsch, can account for many of the detailed laws governing the shechitah process, which requires a degree of subtlety and control that is unique to mankind. This teaches a powerful lesson: the animal material that will be absorbed within the human body must be subservient to the free will of the human intellect, no longer governed by the forces of purely physical compulsion. When one approaches God’s Mikdash in order “lekarev,” to draw close to Him by bringing a korban, the fact that the process is initiated through shechitah may symbolize that one is approaching as a “human” who seeks to establish and maintain control of his physical urges. This mirrors another fundamental theme in R’ Hirsch’s works: that one must first be a “mensch”—a decent human being—before attempting to be a “Jew,” first acquiring humane virtues and only then proceeding to pursue spiritual proximity to God.

The chapter proceeds to a broader analysis of the Hirschian approach of proposing symbolic rationales for the mitzvot. Citing prominent students of R’ Hirsch’s school of thought such as Rabbi Y. Y. Weinberg, we record criticisms made of the Hirschian approach by Reform thinkers who suggested that ritual practice could be jettisoned once its inherent symbolic message had been extracted and understood. For R’ Hirsch, however, repeated performance of a mitzvah provides more than a mere superficial awareness of an idea; rather, such repetition can inculcate a profound truth into the actor’s consciousness. The chapter concludes by presenting R’ Hirsch’s thoughts regarding the difficult balance between the individual’s licence to propose innovative avenues of Torah thought on the one hand, and the challenge of maintaining loyalty to an ancient tradition on the other.

First posted on Facebook 2 April 2020, here.

The demons in the daf

Daf Yomi enthusiasts last week found themselves submerged in sugyot of demons and dark forces that occupy a prominent position in the final chapter of Pesachim. While many are aware that Rambam – like other sages from the Geonic-Spanish tradition – did not recognise the existence of such dark forces, it is not always apparent how they are left to explain demonic appearances in the Talmud. Below is a short excerpt from the chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which tackles magic, necromancy, demons and divination within Judaism:

The greatest challenge facing Rambam's explanation of the dark arts is posed by numerous Talmudic sources, whose descriptions of magic and demons (which are strongly linked to necromancy and other such practices) create a clear impression that such power was regarded as genuine. While Rambam has no systematic commentary on the Gemara, his general approach to these sources can be inferred from an early chapter in his Moreh Nevuchim dealing with the offspring of Adam HaRishon.

The Torah describes Adam’s son Shet as being "betzalmo kidmuto" (in his form or image) of Adam — a term which Rambam links to the earlier description of Adam as having been created "betzelem Elokim" (literally “in the likeness of God”). Rambam then cites a Gemara which states that, from the moment of his sin until the birth of Shet, Adam bore offspring which were not "betzalmo" but rather were "ruchot" or demons. "Tzelem Elokim" — the only aspect of mankind that can be said to be Godly — is his intellect, through which a person can subdue his instincts and negative traits and comprehend divine truths. A person who fails to develop himself in this way is a "beheima betzurat adam" (an animal in human form) rather than "betzelem Elokim".

However, God has also endowed humanity with the free will to use this intellectual potential for evil, to subdue and oppress others. As history repeatedly demonstrates, the greatest misery and hardship experienced by mankind is caused by those who have used their intellect to devise ways of furthering human suffering. This is the sort of 'demon' that Rambam understands the various Gemaras to be describing as dwelling in uninhabited areas, damaging unguarded buildings, and attacking those who travel unaccompanied at night. In a similar vein, those who use their intellect to trick and mislead the masses with 'magic' into the cruel and immoral idolatrous cults can presumably also be accorded the epithet of 'demon'.

A broader and more radical suggestion is found in the commentary of R’ Menachem Meiri — a later Rishon who followed Rambam's approach to Jewish philosophy. Commenting on the final chapter of Pesachim, which dedicates several pages to warnings of demons, Meiri identifies as key the Gemara's statement that "those who do not take note of demons are not bothered by them". Meiri then explains that belief in Babylonian demonology was so embedded in the perceptions of the masses that it would have been futile and even counter-productive for the sages to deny publicly their existence. Instead they attempted to wean people off such beliefs, gently encouraging them that such concern for demons was unnecessary.

While Rambam does not explicitly endorse such an approach, he does decry the corrupting influence of mystical and supernatural beliefs which became attached to and somewhat integrated within Judaism as a result of its exile among pagan nations. In this regard it is instructive that the Gemara also teaches that those who still dwelt in Israel were totally unconcerned with and unaffected by any of the demons mentioned - demons whose names and attributes mirrored those of contemporary pagan Babylonian beliefs.

First posted to Facebook 15 March 2021, here.

Pesach Messianic musings: do the Jews really await a "Mashiach"?

Growing up in North West London, I was extremely fortunate to have been part of a very special community – the Bridge Lane Beth Hamidrash – whose members spanned a broad range of backgrounds and levels of observance. One custom which falls to mind at this time of year was the annual “Mashiach Feast” which was held, with the encouragement of Chabad members, on the eighth day of Pesach. The custom, which traces back to the Baal Shem Tov, is connected to the Messianic theme of the Haftarah of the final day, which is understood to convey a thematic link between the redemption from Egypt and the final awaited Redemption.

While two decades of 7-day Pesachs in Jerusalem may have weakened memories of this custom, the global upheaval to our lives and religious practices caused by the Coronavirus pandemic has led to whispers of Messianic machinations and preparations well beyond the usual confines of Chabad houses and farbrengens. I will therefore mention some brief ideas on the subject that are touched upon in Judaism Reclaimed.

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which addresses the Messianic era examines it in the context of the desirability of miracles and their role within Judaism. We note that while for Ramban and Rabbi Yehudah Halevi miracles, and the Divine experience they entail, represent the pinnacle of religious aspiration, this is firmly rejected by thinkers such as Rambam who idealise an intellectual relationship with God through the divinely-ordained natural order. This dichotomy is played out in their contrasting approaches to the Messianic era. While for Ramban the Messianic era is a setting in which God’s wonders need no longer be concealed, Rambam strongly endorses the position of the Talmudic sage Shmuel that “there is no difference between today’s world and the days of Mashiach except for [freedom from] oppression of the nations”. After all, why would God choose to perform miracles which serve to conceal rather than reveal the great wisdom inherent in his Creation?

What might such a Messianic era look like within Rambam’s worldview and what benefits could it be expected to yield?

I recently heard a fascinating idea on a YouTube lecture (on Isaiah chap. 2 about 30 mins in) from Rabbi Tovia Singer. R’ Singer highlights the fact that the term “Mashiach” is never used in the biblical texts in the context of the Messianic era. This is not just a linguistic observation but reflects a far more fundamental point: the biblical texts focus primarily on the societal utopia of the “Acharit Hayamim” (End of Days), with the Messianic King relegated to a facilitatory role. This got me wondering how much of our own Messianic conceptions might have been infiltrated by teachings of Christianity’s Messiah with their almost-exclusive focus on the role of their ‘Saviour’. From reading the conclusion of Rambam’s Hilchot Melachim, the message is clear:

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... 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. Therefore, the Jews will be great sages and know the hidden matters, grasping the knowledge of their Creator according to the full extent of human potential, as Isaiah states: "The world will be filled with the knowledge of God as the waters cover the ocean bed”.

By the time we reach Moreh Nevuchim (3:11), the message is even more pronounced with the Messianic king not even gaining a single mention:

For through awareness of the truth, enmity and hatred are removed and the inflicting of harm by people on one another is abolished. It [Tanach] holds out this promise, saying “And the wolf shall dwell with the lamb…”. Then it gives the reason for this, saying that the cause of the abolition of these enmities, these discords and these tyrannies, will be humanity’s knowledge of God…

The primary and perhaps exclusive causes of warfare and misery are obsession with and competition over material possessions, power and pride. Once humanity is taught or becomes aware of this folly, its energies and capabilities will be channelled towards achieving universal happiness, thus “they will beat their swords into ploughshares…” and “your sons and daughters will prophesy”.

While we may at times look at the world and despair of such a destiny ever being achieved, Jewish tradition teaches that we must always be anticipating and working towards the fulfilment of these biblical promises. On this note, my wife Rivka Phillips pointed out how humanity’s predicament over the past year or so – which saw huge number of people under total lockdown and jobs, travel, schools, leisure and sports brought to a total standstill – would have been totally unthinkable only a few months before. Yet when we look back we can appreciate how all of this occurred in a perfectly rational and natural manner. So too we must maintain our firm belief – even within Rambam’s more naturalistic Messianic depiction – that humanity’s follies and misplaced focus can be reversed more speedily than we can ever imagine allowing us to progress towards the prophesied “world will be filled with the knowledge of God as the waters cover the ocean bed” .

First posted to Facebook 13 April 2020, here.

Heretics, Skeptics and Magic

Shmuli Phillips is with Ethan Yakhin.

Fasten your seatbelts for a thrilling high-speed roller-coaster ride through sensitive topics such as heresy, scepticism, the evil eye, the thin line dividing monotheism and paganism and much much more...

First posted on Facebook 11 April 2021, here.

Divination and Astrology in Jewish thought

Which Segulot are permitted?

Which Talmudic deer became a Maimonidean fox?

When does a game of cricket involve a biblical prohibition?

This and much more in "Reaching Beyond the Stars: Astrology and Divination in Jewish Thought", my zoom shiur for Bar Ilan:

19:30 Israel time, 17:30 UK time and 12:30 NY time.

Link to the shiur (just under 56 minutes) here.

First posted to Facebook 17 April 2021, here.

The Torah's sexual prohibitions: religious decrees or basic common sense?

Much of yesterday’s Torah reading focused on forbidden sexual acts—the majority of them incestuous—which are related in great detail in both Acharei-Mot and Kedoshim. While from a religious perspective the existence of such prohibitions may seem expected and unspectacular, prohibitions against incest in the secular world represent something of an anomaly. An apparently victimless crime when performed by two consenting adults.

The attached news story telling of an attempt by an American parent-and-child couple to file for permission to marry set my mind racing. How exactly does Judaism categorise these prohibitions?

In the sixth chapter of Shemoneh Perakim, Rambam cites a surprising aggadic teaching:

"One should not say that he does not wish for meat with milk, clothes made from sha'atnez or immoral acts; rather he should say “I would like to partake of it but my Father in heaven has forbidden it to me””

This teaching, explains Rambam, refers specifically to chukkim—the sorts of commandments which are unique to the Torah and the reasons for which are not easily understood. These laws are not inherently evil but rather are followed out of obedience to the Divine word. Rambam contrasts chukkim with commandments that he labels “mefursamot” (widespread), rules that are universally recognised and legislated in all decent human societies. Concerning such ‘’mefursamot’’ laws Rambam cites the aggadic teaching “even had they not been commanded we could say they ought to have been commanded”.

The inclusion of immorality among the inexplicable ‘’chukkim’’ comes as something of a surprise for several reasons:

1) The prohibition against incest is historically one of the most widespread laws that societies have legislated. Wikipedia describes incest as “one of the most widespread of all cultural taboos…” which is almost universally forbidden between parents/children and siblings.

2) Incest is included within the Noahide Laws, which are often understood to represent basic moral and natural laws.

3) As, R' Gil Student pointed out in his post yesterday, the Torah considers these prohibitions severe breaches of national holiness, warning that they can cause the nation to be ''vomited out of the land''.

4) Rambam writes strongly against sexual excesses and immorality in pretty much ALL of his major works (see more here). In particular, he explains that the Torah’s powerful prohibitions against incest are necessary to prevent vulnerable female family members from being subject to abuse from male relatives.

So where does this leave us? Are the Torah’s sexual prohibitions such as those against incest to be regarded as inexplicable decrees which we observe out of obedience to God’s word or are they to be reviled alongside universally recognised evils such as murder and theft?

Is it possible that a single commandment concerning incest may in some instances—such as when it involves the potential abuse of a minor—represent an easily-understood mefursam prohibition to prevent a universally recognised evil, while in other instances—like that of the attached news story—represent the inexplicable word of God?

In a lengthy analysis of Rabbinic approaches to various mitzvot, Judaism Reclaimed demonstrates how such categorisation can be crucial because Tannaic and Talmudic sages were relatively more likely to legislate loopholes and exceptions for inexplicable chukkim. Mefursamot, by contrast, attracted Rabbinic legislation to prevent apparent loopholes from being exploited [see further here].

Judaism Reclaimed also notes that incest is not the only sexual prohibition to defy simple categorisation. For many centuries the prohibition associated with homosexuality was widely considered to be mefursam—a fathomable and widely accepted – prohibition in Western countries. Recent years though have seen a shift in public opinion, which has led it to be considered more in the category of chukkim than mefursamot. But can the spirit and categorisation of a commandment be subject to change?

How are we to be guided in such a case? Do we attempt to measure by public opinion at the time of the giving of the Torah? Do we follow the mefursam status for the majority of human history or in order to be categorised as mefursam does a commandment need to have been consistently and universally applied? To what extent (if any) can the Torah’s terminology of ‘’to’eiva’’ (abomination) influence the categorisation of the mitzvah?

One fascinating possibility is advanced by Rabbi Chaim Rapoport in his highly recommended book Homosexuality: An Authentic Orthodox View: that the same prohibited act might be considered mefursam for a heterosexual person but an inexplicable chok for a homosexual.

This post, like the associated chapter of Judaism Reclaimed, leaves its readers with questions to ponder rather than easy answers.

First posted on Facebook 25 April 2021, here.

Blemished sacrifices, blemished religion

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Emor opens by focusing on the laws of blemishes which disqualify kohanim and korbanot from the Mikdash service, before expanding into a broad discussion of the appropriate roles and interplay between emotion and intellect in Judaism.

The laws of blemishes are most simply understood as serving to enhance the honour and glory of the Mikdash and korbanot, since people have a natural tendency to respect institutions which present an impressive and immaculate appearance. Rabbi S. R. Hirsch, however, interprets these commands in the context of his broader approach to the Mikdash and korbanot. In doing so offers some profound insights. The overarching idea represented through the offering of an unblemished animal as a korban, he explains, is that of absolute dedication of one’s entire self—personality, capabilities, and aspirations—to God and His Torah. A defective limb in an animal which is being so dedicated carries the message that an aspect of the person’s personality is being excluded from this total commitment to God, a part of his life over which he intends to retain autonomy and place beyond the reach of the Torah’s commandments. Despite the practical reality of human frailty and imperfection, it is axiomatic that man must accept that the basis of his relationship with God be all-encompassing.

In a further explanation of the invalidity of both Kohanim and animals with blemishes, R’ Hirsch draws upon his perspective of the Mikdash and the role that it is intended to fulfil within the Jewish nation. Examining the function commonly played by religion and places of worship among the other nations, he writes:

Their priests and sanctuaries await the misfortune and grief of their believers…Religion to them is a consolation for the suffering and disadvantaged…[but]…does not hold sway in life that is vibrant and effervescent.

In Judaism, by contrast, the Mikdash represents its religious ideal: total commitment to God, not out of grief or a feeling of deficiency, but rather from recognition of the inherent goodness and truth of God and His Torah. This ideal of serving God positively through strength, joy and clarity of mind is represented by the requirement that all aspects of the Mikdash service, including the Kohanim who perform it and the korbanot which are to be offered, display the impression of “tamim” completeness. Judaism Reclaimed shows how this principle is strongly reflected by other laws such as the emphasis on light (Menorahs) in the Mikdash, where korbanot were offered only in daylight hours and in a state of total sobriety. This in stark contrast to the atmosphere of darkness, mystery, and fear which would typically prevail in pagan temples. Most striking, however, is the extent to which the Mikdash service and its priests are kept completely apart from any contact or association with death by the laws of tumah. This point is explored by Rabbi Simi Lerner in the second half of his superb weekly Rav Hirsch podcast http://www.ravhirsch.org/p/top-10-1473077106/.

R' Hirsch’s understanding of the Mikdash’s laws and service being intended to signal the ideal of worshipping God through strength, joy and clarity is built upon in the second half of the chapter. We draw upon the early section of Halakhic Man, where the Rav launches a stinging attack on the vacuous spirituality that he believed has crept into Judaism as an escape from rational doubts and challenges. Thus

“religion should ally itself with the forces of clear, logical cognition, as uniquely exemplified by the scientific method, even though at times the two may clash with one another, rather than pledge its troth to beclouded, mysterious ideologies that grope in the dark corners of existence, unaided by the shining light of objective knowledge, and believe that they have penetrated to the secret core of the world”

This he contrasts with halachah, a central pillar of Judaism, which requires a Jew to grapple constantly with the intricate and diverse elements of the world, using clear intellect to encompass within his intellect the will and wisdom of God.

The chapter concludes with a lengthy analysis of R’ Hirsch’s rejection of what he felt were two erroneous approaches to religion. First is the ultra-emotional emphasis which places the subjective “feeling of utter dependence on God” at the pinnacle of religious meaning. This approach, which was popularised by certain Christian movements in Germany in his day, was strongly rejected by R’ Hirsch, who sought to demonstrate that Judaism requires emotion and feeling to be subservient to its laws. Many who place R’ Hirsch and Rambam together in the category of “Rationalist Sages” are shocked to discover, however, that Rambam’s “Arab-Greek” philosophical worldview – which elevates the comprehension of Divine truths to an ultimate goal – is the subject of an even stronger critique from R’ Hirsch.

The Hirschian understanding of Judaism concludes that, while the Torah appeals to both human feeling and intellect, it is neither the sublime emotional experience nor abstract philosophical speculation of the Divine that represents the Torah’s ultimate goal. When utilized to comprehend and attach a person to the Torah’s laws and teachings, both intellect and emotion are enriched and can claim legitimacy. Any attempt, however, to elevate emotional experience or intellectual speculation to represent the Torah’s ultimate purpose, and by extension to subordinate the Torah’s commandments to the facilitation of this greater goal, is viewed by R’ Hirsch as an illegitimate intrusion on the sovereign status of Torah law.

First posted on Facebook 7 May 2020, here.