Souls on fire: Rambam and Gehinnom

The chapters of Judaism Reclaimed which relate to parashat Ha’azinu explore Rambam’s understanding of core aspects of the afterlife such as Gehinnom and Resurrection of the Dead. We note the challenge of how the “fires of Gehinnom”, vividly depicted in Aggadic literature, can have any effect on, or relevance to, the metaphysical soul.

Ramban addresses this problem by explaining that “hell-fire” does not consist of earthly substances but rather is a special “quasi-physical” creation by God which is therefore capable of inflicting suffering upon the quasi-physical souls of sinners. This solution, however, is not available to Rambam, since he does not subscribe to the notion of a quasi-physical realm for the soul post death. (Further analysis of the contrasing conceptual frameworks within which Rambam and Ramban operate is available here at pp 60-62).

Rambam emphasises that upon death, the only element of the soul that remains is the pure intellect (sechel). In the opening chapters of Shemonah Perakim, he describes how the sechel transcends all other aspects of the person, such as emotions, which interact with the physical realm. One consequence of this is that the soul which remains after death is not equipped to experience any kind of physical pain which could be inflicted by a fiery Gehinnom.

Rambam’s difficulty in explaining posthumous punishment is deepened by a tradition which teaches that punishment in Gehinnom is time-limited: “judgment of the wicked in Gehinnom is 12 months”. This introduction of the concept of time into metaphysical matters is difficult to reconcile with Rambam’s understanding of the eternal and unchanging spiritual existence of the soul in the afterlife. This is because Rambam understands time to relate exclusively to the physical realm as a measure of its change and decay.

In addition to the difficulty of constructing a conceptual framework within which Rambam can explain Gehinnom, several statements which appear in Hilchot Teshuvah raise the further question of what function such a Gehinnom could fulfil within his worldview. In the 8th chapter, Rambam makes the following strong comments that appear to preclude the possibility of a “place of punishment” in the afterlife:

Anyone who does not merit this life [Olam Haba]…is cut off by his evil and lost like an animal…this is the “karet” [excision of the soul] which is described by the Torah… The greatest revenge that can be visited on a sinner is that his soul will be excised and he will not merit this eternal life. This is the destruction that the prophets refer to as be’er shachat [etc.] since it is destruction after which there is no subsequent resurrection, an irredeemable loss.

These statements troubled many Jewish scholars in the thirteenth century and added force to an attempt to ban Rambam’s works. Ramban, while bitterly opposed to many of Rambam’s ideas, wrote a lengthy and famous letter to the Rabbinic leadership in France in defence of Rambam,
pointing out that the apparently troubling passage of Rambam is paraphrasing a midrashic teaching in the Sifra that karet “is the loss of the soul”. Ramban then highlights other passages in Rambam’s work which make explicit reference to the sinner being judged for his sins, after which he can still achieve Olam Haba.

Ramban concludes that Rambam’s statements regarding ultimate punishment being the complete absence of the soul from any Olam Haba refer only to the soul’s subsequent fate once it has already undergone a temporary period of suffering. Ramban does not, however, attempt to explain how any such suffering could feature within Rambam’s broader understanding of the soul and the severe problems that this would entail.

After producing the initial draft for Judaism Reclaimed, I felt very uneasy about rejecting the interpretations of Ramban – along with all other Rabbinic commentaries I had found – of Rambam’s approach to punishment in the afterlife. I was therefore delighted to unearth Abarbanel’s lengthy analysis of the subject in which he explains Rambam on the basis of his clear statements in Hilchot Teshuvah that karet, the severest form of punishment, results in a total absence of existence. On this basis, Abarbanel points out, there cannot exist any form of gradation as between levels of different karet punishments. Abarbanel concludes forcefully that any other interpretation of Rambam is “a clear error in understanding his words”. I also discovered important precedent: several Tannaim cited in Avot d’Rabbi Natan expound verses to show that those such as the sinful inhabitants of Sodom and Korach’s assembly “were not living…were not judged…are not to be found even
among the congregation of the wicked, cease to exist in the world”.

Several questions remain:

• How, if at all, does Rambam interpret the copious and detailed aggadic material depicting a fiery Gehinnom?

• How are we to read Rambam’s own words in Hilchot Teshuvah that certain sinners receive Olam Haba after judgment and punishment?

• How is Rambam’s position reconciled both with broader concepts of justice and with the wider Maimonidean Jewish worldview?

Judaism Reclaimed attempts to develop an understanding of Gehinnom and Resurrection of the Dead which addresses these intriguing questions.

First posted on Facebook 23 September 2020, here.

Faith and doubt: imperfect belief in Judaism

In the dramatic build-up to the Sinai revelation, God informs Moshe that “the people will hear when I speak to you, and they will also believe in you forever".

Rambam distinguishes between the high level of belief (emunah) which the nation gained in Moshe at Sinai and the lower level of belief with which they were instructed to trust regular prophets. Writing in Hilchot Yesodei Hatorah (chaps 8-10), Rambam describes how divine endorsement of Moshe's mission was established not through mere signs and wonders which invite witnesses to assume divine involvement, but rather from participation in God's direct revelation to Moshe providing the nation with a clear and indisputable perception of the truth of his prophecy.

When it comes to belief in regular prophets however, Rambam teaches that the Torah instructs us to listen to them and act in accordance with their words even though we lack absolute proof and knowledge that they are genuine. This lower quality of ‘’belief’’ which he also terms leha’amin, seems to require a certain mode of action rather than an intellectual commitment to any stated truths or propositions.

These two levels of belief are of particular interest when we consider Rambam’s list of “Ikkrei Emunah” – fundamentals of faith –which he considers to be preconditions for membership of “Kelal Yisrael”. Much has been written about the precise requirement of Rambam’s Principles of Faith. At the start of Mishneh Torah Rambam requires a person to know certain propositions concerning God. In Hilchot Teshuvah, however, he only pronounces spiritual excision (karet) on someone who states that, for example, that there is no God. This could be understood to mean that while it is a positive commandment to analyse and eventually achieve ‘’absolute knowledge’’ of God, a person remains ‘’within the fold’’ as long as they remain loyal to the tradition even while harbouring certain doubts.

Rambam himself appears to pave the way for this approach in Moreh Nevuchim (1:34) where he writes that very few people, unaided, can achieve even an approximate understanding of God’s existence, essence or creation of the world. It is a lifetime’s work:

Accordingly, if we never in any way acquired an opinion through following traditional authority…this state of affairs would lead to all people dying without having known whether there is a deity for the world … much less whether a proposition should be affirmed with regard to Him.

For the vast majority of people, belief in God of the Torah must therefore initially be reliant upon Jewish tradition rather than a genuine personal understanding.

Rabbi S. R. Hirsch by contrast places far less emphasis on abstract knowledge of God and the professing of beliefs within Judaism. Whether such knowledge is derived from abstract reasoning, perceiving God in nature or seeing His hand in history, it must be acted upon in order for it to develop from “barren knowledge” into the guiding force with which to determine one’s course of action. It must be transferred from the mind to the heart and become the basis for one’s activity:

Emunah is the essence of Judaism; but to define Emunah as “belief” is to empty the term of its true content. Belief is an act of the mind, sometimes only an opinion. Every believer thinks his beliefs are true, based on the reasoning and assurances of someone else. Nowadays, religion is identified with belief, and belief is thought to be the essence of religion. A religious person believes in principles that cannot be grasped by the intellect. Thus, religion has been divorced from life and converted into a catechism of doctrines, a system of faith-slogans, required for admission to the hereafter…

Rather Emunah means to rely upon God in theory and in practice; to take strength in Him and to follow Him…One who replies “Amen” [related to Emunah]…devotes himself to this truth, accepts it in his heart, and vows to adopt it as the guide for his conduct.

In contrast to a commonly-held Christian emphasis on the adequacy of “faith alone”, R’ Hirsch places primary importance on ‘’practical belief’’. Not cold abstract formulations but the sort of faith that will guide and define one’s everyday life.

The value of falsely declaring that one holds a particular belief or pretending that one “knows” of God is unclear. According to Rambam such a pretence is not only empty but even dangerous, as it will hold a person back from striving towards genuine knowledge of the divine. Where does this leave people practically?

I would suggest that the basic level of Emunah that we have identified here (in the context of prophets other than Moshe) involves a practical obedience which can coexist with some level of doubt. It is not a ‘’blind faith’’, but one which is built up from sensing – though not necessarily knowing – God’s hand in nature, history or through some form of philosophical reasoning. Emunah then requires one to confirm and rely upon this initial position by actively living one’s life in accordance with its teachings. Nevertheless this ‘’lower-level Emunah’’ – at least from a Maimonidean perspective – is valuable but nevertheless insufficient. For Rambam a person must then undertake a life-long intellectual journey, carefully refining and clarifying one’s understanding of God and Judaism’s theological teachings until one can truly uphold the first command of Mishneh Torah: knowledge of God’s existence and uniqueness.

First posted to Facebook 3 February 2021, here.

Heaven or She'ol: what sort of afterlife does the Torah envisage?

When Ya’akov is confronted with news of the apparent death of his dear son, Yosef, he reacts by tearing his clothes and refuses to be comforted, instead crying out “I will descend to Sh’eol mourning for my son”. Ya’akov’s tortured utterance offers us an opportunity to examine what sort of afterlife the Torah might have envisaged. While later Rabbinic texts feature vivid and detailed depictions of the post-mortem delights and damnations that await humans (a matter I posted about previously here), such references and what they represent in Tanach are significantly more sparse.

In this guest post, Dovid Junik, a Jewish-theology enthusiast, teases out meaning from these afterlife references, advocating in the process a biblical afterlife of judgment and justice.

Biblical view of She’ol and the Afterlife

By Dovid Junik

If there was one single question we could get the answer to, most of us would probably choose the question of afterlife: what happens to our consciousness after the demise of the body. Many beliefs have evolved around this question, and even Judaism has had a diversity of opinions on the matter and an evolution of its own sort.

While the Talmud paints a vivid picture of a Heaven with many levels, a 12-month hell for some people, and an eventual resurrection, the biblical reality is far less vivid. There are even those who question whether or not the Tanakh believed in an afterlife of justice. Most bible scholars contend that Tanakh believed in an afterlife, but quite a different one than the afterlife we imagine. The biblical afterlife is called “She’ol,” described in various scriptures as the netherworld where the people eternally abide after death. It is described as an underground chamber where the dead live a dual life mimicking this earthly experience but in a shadowy dark environment. This She’ol is discussed in Canaanite writings as well.

We will now make the case that the Torah did in fact believe in an afterlife, whether it be a physical resurrection or a spiritual world for the soul or even She’ol. Afterwards, we will argue that Torah believed in a justice system for this afterlife as well. Let’s begin with the references to an afterlife:

· Describing the death of Abraham, Isaac, Ishmael, Jacob, Aaron, Moses and various biblical kings the Torah uses the terms "and he gathered to his nation"or "to his fathers”. This term strongly implies an afterlife in which these patriarchs are united with their pre-deceased ancestors. The term cannot mean simply joining the dead bodies of their ancestors in the graveyard, for most of these people weren't buried with their ancestors.

· In the Torah, we are warned about performing witchcraft, including talking to the dead spirit, implying that there was likely a dead spirit. This was quite a familiar practice at the time.

· Samuel the prophet's soul is being contacted by a witch after his death. During his conversation with King Saul, Samuel declares "Further, the Lord will deliver the Israelites who are with you into the hands of the Philistines. Tomorrow your sons and you will be with me; and the Lord will also deliver the Israelite forces into the hands of the Philistines.” Indeed, the next day Saul and his son Jonathan joined Samuel in the world above.

· David is in the midst of comforting himself on the loss of his son; and he says:

"But now that he is dead, why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will never come back to me.” 

Seemingly King David is comforting himself that he will one day see his deceased son.

She’ol or a justice system?

It would appear that the Torah assumes an afterlife justice system , perhaps in addition to She’ol. This justice system, where the righteous are rewarded and the wicked punished, may be a part of the She’ol experience (although other cultures believing in She’ol, at the time didn’t seem to look at it as a justice system). Ezekiel 31:18 seems to mention that there are various levels within She’ol and the unworthy are at the lowest. Alternatively, She’ol is merely describing the demise of the body whereas the soul lives on in an afterlife and is brought to justice for the good and bad it has committed. A number of verses indicate that She’ol may just be the death of the body – and not an underworld with its own consciousness. It is described alongside “death,” “pit,” and “grave.”

The scholarly consensus among bible critics is that the Torah believed in She’ol afterlife and had no justice system in mind. This notion comes from their premise that the Torah is not a divinely-inspired document and was rather the product of Canaanite culture. Here we will argue that as a divinely-inspired document, the Torah is likely to have believed in an afterlife with a justice system of some sort.

Crucially, the Torah wasn’t a product of Canaanite culture: rather it was a product of the Israelite’s sojourn in the Wilderness. Thus, the Israelites would have taken the Egyptian notion of a spiritual afterlife for granted. The Egyptians left a clear record of their religious beliefs in their hieroglyphics and they paint the vivid picture of an eternal spiritual afterlife where their god judges them for their actions in this world. The silence of Torah on the matter would be an indication that Torah believed in that same notion of afterlife.

This indication is bolstered by certain references from within the Torah’s text itself. God is regularly described in scripture as the “God of Justice” who will punish the wicked and reward the righteous. Since our earthly experience is not consistent with this description, it can be inferred that an afterlife of justice is intended.

Furthermore, the Jewish people are described as privileged to be the special Chosen Nation of God out of His love for them. But if we look at their earthly experience alone, we see the opposite to be true. The Jewish people are burdened with many additional commandments, while suffering exile and persecution for disloyalty to God. What benefit is there in being from God’s Chosen Nation, if not for there being an afterlife where the Jews are rewarded for keeping all their extra commandments and remaining faithful to God? This argument is underscored by the prophetic utterance of Bilaam who petitions God: “May I die the death of the upright, may my fate be like theirs!" – a seeming advantage possessed by the righteous in their passing.

While the extent to which these points constitute proof can be debated, I believe I have demonstrated that a strong argument can be made to support the notion of biblical belief in an afterlife of justice.

For more on this subject, including more possible biblical references to the afterlife, footnotes, and a discussion of why the Torah doesn’t explicitly discuss the afterlife, see here.

First posted on Facebook 9 December 2020, here.

A time to argue -- with God?

The closing section in the chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Ki Tisa addresses a troubling theological problem as to when, if ever, it is appropriate for a prophet to argue with God. At first glance, the evidence on offer seems perplexing and contradictory. Avraham engages in a lengthy debate with God in an attempt to rescue the sinful cities of Sodom, but does not utter a single word of protest when bidden to offer his own innocent son as a sacrifice. Moshe’s petition on behalf of the Jewish people is welcomed and accepted by God in the aftermath of the Golden Calf; however, a seemingly similar petition over the Jews’ treatment at the hands of the Egyptians leads, as Rashi explains, to a divine rebuke.

A possible approach to resolving this issue may be to distinguish between scenarios in which God reveals His intentions to a prophet, apparently engaging in discussion regarding His future plans, and cases in which God issues clear-cut divine command. The negotiation between God and Avraham regarding the fate of Sodom is introduced by God stating that it would be improper to conceal His intentions from Avraham – and Avraham does not actually reject or challenge any command by taking a stand on behalf of the doomed Sodomite denizens. This can be contrasted with the passage of the Akeidah which, opens with a clear command to Avraham to take and sacrifice his son. No room remains for negotiation, and any rejection would therefore have been improper. (A later chapter of Judaism Reclaimed examines the Akeida more fully in the context of religion and morality).

The same distinction may hold true in the incidents involving Moshe. He had been given a clear divine instruction to approach Pharaoh in order to seek the Jews’ release. Moshe’s subsequent questioning of this command (albeit having already carried it out) was thus considered an exhibition of insufficient faith. Similarly in the book of Yonah, Yonah is rebuked for failing to obey God. Since God’s word came as a command, there was no room for questioning or negotiation. In the aftermath of the Golden Calf, however, God’s initial statement of “hanichah li”, with which He introduces the suggestion that He annihilate the Jewish people, can be seen as inviting a response and therefore requiring Moshe’s input. It is for this reason that Moshe’s pleading and petitioning were not seen as a sign of inadequate faith.

One particularly fascinating case study in this area is that of Noach, whom the Torah describes as having been saved from the flood on account of his righteousness and good conduct. Noach appears to have been presented with a clear instruction to construct the Ark in order to save himself, his close family and selected members of the animal kingdom; he was thus not in a position to enter into a debate with God. However, there are sources which appear to take him to task for his failure to petition on behalf of his unfortunate neighbours. The Zohar for example explains that the floodwaters are referred to as “the waters of Noach” in order to indicate his partial culpability in not attempting to intervene on behalf of his generation. Perhaps we can suggest that, even though Noach had received a command, this command consisted of a preparatory measure of building the Ark, and did not therefore necessarily preclude him from entering into a debate with God on a finalised matter.

First posted to Facebook 12 March 2020, here.

Vayakhel: why keep Shabbat?

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to Vayakhel-Pekudei focuses on the short introduction to the laws of building the Mishkan which instructs the Jews to adhere to the laws of Shabbat. Rashi notes this unexpected juxtaposition, writing that it is intended to teach that work necessary for the Mishkan's construction does not override the restrictions on work that are imposed by Shabbat. This correlation is expanded upon by Rabbi S. R. Hirsch, who suggests that they are based upon similar underlying themes. The extensive specifications for the Mishkan's building represent humanity’s mastery over the physical world. By channelling these activities into the construction of God's Mishkan, the Jewish people were dedicating their creative capabilities to God's sanctuary and the ideals it represents.

R’ Hirsch emphasises that by using the Mishkan's construction as a means to identify the 39 forbidden melachot the Torah is opposing a popular misconception that Shabbat is to be regarded primarily as a day of rest and rejuvenation from heavy work. Instead, Shabbat testifies to God's creation of the world after which He ceased, absolutely, from any further creative activity. In recognition of this fundamental tenet of Jewish faith we likewise desist from any creative activity on the seventh day. It is therefore entirely appropriate that the same group of creative activities which symbolises the subordination to God of our ability to produce and manipulate the physical world should also be used to represent our cessation from creative activities on Shabbat.

The suggestion of R' Hirsch is firmly grounded in Ramban's understanding of the reasons provided in the Ten Commandments for observing Shabbat. In the first recording of the Commandments, in Yitro, the Torah teaches that Shabbat should be observed because "God created the heaven and earth in six days and rested on the seventh". However, when Moshe later reviews the Commandments in Va'etchanan, no mention is made of recalling God's creation of the world. Instead the reason provided for Shabbat observance is to remember the servitude in Egypt, and the miraculous divine rescue. (A later chapter of Judaism Reclaimedaddresses discrepancies between the Ten Commandment passages in more detail).

Ramban explains that, far from being separate or contradictory reasons for Shabbat, the explanations offered in the two presentations of the Commandments represent different expressions of the same basic principle. The ten miraculous plagues inflicted on Egypt attested to God's absolute mastery and control over the natural, physical world, with His ability to manipulate the world at will serving to demonstrate that it is His creation. Ramban follows R’ Yehudah Halevi’s Kuzari in strongly emphasising the 'experiential relationship' that the Jewish people have with God. It is only as a result of the Jewish nation having witnessed God's control over nature that it can relate to Him as Creator. The account in Yitro relates the core principle of Shabbat being a tribute to God's creation. In the passage found in Va’etchanan, by contrast, Moshe is teaching the next generation to relate through the tradition received from their parents to the exhibition of God's mastery and, by extension, to His creation of the universe.

Rambam adopts a very different approach to the reasons offered for Shabbat in the two sets of Commandments, writing that Shabbat simultaneously fulfils two completely separate functions. In Yitro we are told "zachor" — to recall and distinguish Shabbat in recognition of God's creation of the world, whereas Va’etchananfocuses on the need to "remember that you were a slave in Egypt, and God took you out...". This commemoration, which contains the command of "shamor" (guard) the Shabbat, is understood by halachah to refer to desisting from productive activity just as God redeemed our ancestors.

Rambam's reluctance to follow Ramban in providing one overarching explanation for the reasons given for Shabbat in the Ten Commandments may arise from his fundamentally different approach to Judaism. While Ramban, like the Kuzari, rejects speculative theological theorising in favour of a personal experiential relationship with God, Rambam understands that humanity's ultimate achievement is an intellectual comprehension of God and His ways. God's creation of the world is a fact that should ideally be deduced and understood as an objective truth. The miraculous confirmation of God's absolute mastery over the physical world, witnessed by the generation of the Exodus, can neither provide nor replace such logical deductions. At best the confirmation can serve as a pointer to motivate and guide a person towards the correct logical conclusions. Unlike Ramban, therefore, Rambam does not explain the reasons of Shabbat in the second account of the Ten Commandments on the basis of Moshe reviewing the Exodus in order to emphasise the miraculous tradition.

Instead, Rambam understands that cessation from creative activity on Shabbat commemorates the redemption of the Jews from Egyptian servitude. The purpose of this commemoration is to recall the important truth that Jewish national identity was formed through and is thus irretrievably bound up with its unique status as God's chosen nation. This concept is expressed in the Friday night Kiddush: “A reminder of the going out from Egypt, that You chose us … from all the peoples”. And what better way is there for the Jews to demonstrate their new-found freedom and status as God's nation than by channelling their creative skills, honed in the service of their brutal Egyptian taskmasters, towards the lofty goal of creating a 'resting place' for God's shechinah in their midst? We can therefore appreciate, within both Ramban and Rambam's approaches, that a profound link can be traced between the process of building the Mishkan and the forbidden categories of creative activity on Shabbat.

First posted on Facebook 19 March 2020, here.