Does God rest on Shabbat? A Christian controversy

By Joey Israel and Shmuli Phillips

The Torah’s description of God resting on the seventh day is not widely regarded as presenting a theological challenge. We are comfortable with the idea, which unusually finds support across the gamut of traditional commentators, that God merely ceased from creative activity on the seventh day. Rather than imagining that we mimic God’s seventh-day siesta each week, the laws of Shabbat are understood to symbolise our recognition of God’s specific and defined creative input into the world at its inception (a matter examined from various perspectives in Judaism Reclaimed).

Several sources suggest, however, that 2000 years ago the notion of God resting on Shabbat was more keenly contested, and may even have been at the heart of early Jewish-Christian disputation.

Bereishit Rabbah (11:10) explains, from a close reading of the verse, that God’s rest on Shabbat constitutes rest only from the specific work of world-creation, and not from God’s activities as a judge of the righteous and the wicked. This is based upon the understanding that God’s rest marks the satisfactory completion of the specific process of world-creation: it is the cessation of that specific work that the rest marks. We might draw two conclusions from this:

1) God continues to engage, on Shabbat, in other types of work which are not considered part of the process of ‘creating the world’.

2) It does not necessarily follow that God would repeat his rest on a weekly basis, considering that the creation has now been satisfactorily completed.

The question of whether and to what extent God rests on Shabbat features again in our parasha of Beshalach:

In response to their complaining, the Israelites are given manna from heaven, which is initially presumed to continue each day. However, on Friday a double portion arrives. In answer to their questions the people are told:

“…This is what God has commanded: ‘Tomorrow is a day of rest, a holy Shabbat to God; bake what you want to bake and boil what you want to boil, and all that is left over put aside to be kept until morning” (16:23).

The apparent implication is that God will not be delivering manna on the following day because He himself will be resting. Bear in mind that the people, according to the plain meaning of the verses, have not as yet received any instructions regarding Shabbat. This suggests that God does in fact observe some kind of weekly rest which would preclude Him from delivering manna on the Shabbat, a suggestion which is reinforced in verses 16:25-26, where a defining feature of Shabbat seems to be the absence of God’s provision of manna.

A rabbinic view of God’s observance of the Shabbat is presented in Shemot Rabbah (30:9) which recounts a story of four famous first-century rabbis visiting Rome. The rabbis point out that, whilst man might be a hypocrite for failing to practice what he preaches, God by contrast acts in accordance with His own rules. A heretic who happens to be present questions the rabbis’ assertion by arguing that God does not observe Shabbat. The rabbis respond that this is not the case since God, whose glory fills the entire universe, cannot possibly be said to have desecrated Shabbat by carrying. Unlike humans, for whom there exist different domains between which they cannot carry, for God the whole world is His private property.

To summarise, the rabbis seem to endorse two potential positions. The first is that God does not rest entirely on Shabbat because Shabbat only constitutes His rest from creating the world but not His rest from acting within it as a judge. The second is that, given the nature of God and his relationship with the world, God’s post-creation activity in the world on Shabbat cannot constitute work.

Both of these approaches find parallels in the writings of Hellenist philosopher Philo of Alexandria, who suggests in his Allegorical Interpretation that God is forever ‘creating’ and does not rest on Shabbat as man does. This is achieved by rereading וישבת (Gen. 2:2) as ‘he causedto rest’ i.e. he made other things rest but not Himself. Elsewhere Philo suggests that, as a consequence of His vastly different nature, only God is truly able to fulfil the quality of ‘rest’ on Shabbat and festivals properly. God alone is constantly in a state of rest, considering that He is wholly unaffected by fatigue from activity.

The most striking ancient argument relating to what God does or does not do on Shabbat may be found in the New Testament, where Jesus justifies working on the Shabbat by saying “My father is still working, and I am also working”(John 5:17). Simply put, this assumes that God does not observe the Shabbat, thus aligning the evangelist’s position with that of the min (“heretic”) in Shemot Rabbah above. Notably, both the heretic and the New Testament are primarily focused on the lesser prohibition of carrying. The Gospel of John is usually assumed to have been authored between 70CE-110CE, within a decade or two of when the Rabbis named in the story of Shemot Rabbah are said to have lived. Some scholars have suggested that the term min refers to early Christians, with the insertion of “veLamalshinim” in the prayer-book an attempt to excommunicate them from the synagogue. Indeed, frustration with being excommunicated is an important theme in the Gospel of John. If this is correct it could be suggested that the heretic in our midrash who, like Jesus, claims that God ‘’works on Shabbat’’ is actually an early Christian.

The disagreement over how to interpret the biblical reference to God’s resting may reflect a deeper gulf between Jewish and Christian conceptions of God. While Judaism recognises an absolute qualitative distinction between the divine and human realm which defies any meaningful attribution of “rest” to God, Christianity conflates the divine and human identities. This conflation grants theological legitimacy to the notion that one can meaningfully compare God’s work with human activity and thus permit work on Shabbat (hence “My father is still working, and I am also working”). The rabbis’ reaction to Jesus’s claim – as recorded by John in the continuation of the passage – certainly highlights the theological significance underpinning his words:

“For this reason they tried all the more to kill him; not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was even calling God his own Father, making himself equal with God.” (John 5:18).

The passage in Shemot Rabbah telling of the rabbis’ debate with the ‘’heretic’’ would therefore have been addressing a highly relevant matter of profound theological significance.

First posted to Facebook 27 January 2021, here.

Zeman Bechiratenu: democracy in Jewish thought

With the latest round of Israel’s perpetual polls almost upon us, and the circus that is American democracy striking up a comical accompaniment, we may find ourselves contemplating Judaism’s perspective on democracy. One chapter of Judaism Reclaimed explores the question: Can the Torah be said to idealise any particular form of governance?

In a perceptive piece of political philosophy which reflects earlier tensions and disagreements among key commentaries, Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin (Netziv) suggests that the Torah’s perspective with regard to the practical implementation of its command to appoint a king is deliberately ambiguous. The passage containing the command to appoint a king is introduced with the following statement:

When you come to the land that Hashem your God is giving you, and you have inherited and inhabited it, and you say “I will appoint for myself a king like all the surrounding nations”. Surely appoint a king for yourself …

Netziv understands that this verse makes the mitzva conditional upon the approval and request of the nation (“and you say “I will appoint””); only under such circumstances is the Sanhedrin commanded to appoint a king. He then proceeds to evaluate different forms of societies and political climates: in some situations a monarch is necessary to unite and lead a nation, while at other times the people are unable to handle the power of a king and such appointment would be sakanat nefashot (forbidden as dangerous). For this reason, even though appointing a king is a mitzva, it is not an absolutely and permanently binding commandment, because its suitability depends on the political situation of the nation. Authority can only be centralised under a single monarch and dynasty when the people themselves seek a king, having recognised the benefits that this can bring.

The Torah’s recognition that not all societies and eras are equally suited to a strong central monarchy raises a further question as to whether the Torah actually endorses any particular political system as an ideal. It would seem to follow from the majority position among the commentaries, which regards the appointment of a king as a positive commandment, that the Torah’s favoured form of government is a monarchy. Nonetheless it is hard to ignore the strong arguments presented by Abarbanel which draw upon biblical precedent (the Jewish kings, with few exceptions, were overwhelmingly deemed as failures) and his personal experience of the vastly superior system of governance of the Italian republican city-states when compared to the monarchies of Spain and Portugal. Abarbanel goes so far as to compare the mitzva of appointing a king to the mitzvah of yefat to’ar, describing it as a concession to human weakness which must be contended with and guided.

The innovative approach of Netziv allows us to integrate the positions of both sets of Rishonim, with the majority view representing the ideal position of a worthy and righteous king, working in conjunction with a prophet in order to advance the religious, economic and security interests of the nation. A number of Jewish kings (for instance David, Yehoshaphat, Asa, Yoshiyahu and Chizkiya) stand out for their record of uniting the nation behind strong religious programmes and upholding justice. It is hard to imagine that the national repentance drives of Yoshiyahu or Chizkiya would have been so effective had they not been established and managed by the strong authority of the king. And it is unlikely that the achievements of Shlomo’s earlier years on the throne, in which knowledge of God became widespread among the Jewish people and spread to neighbouring countries, could have occurred in the weak federal system that had existed at the time of the Judges. Indeed, the lack of a monarch is blamed several times in the penultimate chapter of the book of Shofetim for the calamitous social, religious and political failings of the era such as the Pilegesh beGivah and the ensuing civil war.

While recognising that the Torah does appear to endorse monarchy as an ideal, practicality and pragmatism demand that we heed the cautionary words of Abarbanel and Seforno, who highlight the pitfalls of centralising absolute power within a monarchy. Just as Netziv points out that not all communities and nations are suited to the imposition of a kingship, we too can comment that not all kings are worthy recipients for absolute authority over nations.

We may be led to conclude that, despite the Torah’s apparent preference for a strong monarchy as an ideal, we are certainly not bound to seek a return of such an institution in an era in which dictatorships are overwhelmingly synonymous with oppression, and when there is no prophecy to guide the appointment of a king and his subsequent conduct. In the final chapters of Hilchot Melachim, Rambam describes how the righteous Messianic king will unite the people of the world around God’s truths and goals, and the Jewish people will then fully be able to realise its mission as a ‘light unto the nations’. Until then, we are left with the advice of Winston Churchill, who stated that “democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others” – a truism that some current politicians seem intent on pushing to its outermost limits.

(The chapter proceeds to analyse and provide examples of fundamental distinctions between the Torah’s conception of monarchy, which must function within the Jewish legal system and under prophetic instruction, and the absolute monarchies of surrounding ancient countries which routinely enslaved and oppressed their subjects).

First posted on Facebook 29 February 2020, here.

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.