Tzora'at, Coronavirus and biblical quarantines

With infectious disease and the measures taken by governments to combat its spread dominating news cycles and indeed all aspects of our lives, this parashah’s laws of two-week quarantines and social distancing are likely to take on an unusually familiar feel. The similarities can draw support from traditional commentators, many of whom understood that tzara’at posed a contagious threat to those surrounding the invalid; the author of the Hertz Chumash went as far as to identify it with various forms of known skin diseases.

Such commentators were firmly within the sights of Rabbi S. R. Hirsch, who presents a series of powerful arguments against the proposition that tzara’at corresponds with any known or infectious disease. With his typical focus on the finer details of mitzvot, R’ Hirsch points out how exceptions to the rules, such as a person whose body is entirely covered by the discolouration being automatically declared pure, point firmly away from any interpretation of tzara’at based on infection. Most striking for me, writing from Jerusalem where we have just experienced a near-total lockdown to prevent festive Pesach mingling, are the rulings which prevent any declarations of impurity during the crowded pilgrimages to Jerusalem or wedding celebrations. It is also notable that the tzara’at marks, which can afflict clothes and homes as well as skin, could not render impure any buildings in Jerusalem – a likely travel-hub given that it was the location of the Beit HaMikdash.

Instead, R’ Hirsch demonstrates, tzara’at is viewed by Jewish tradition as a spiritual malady which can become visible on the skin of a person whose observance of the interpersonal dimension of the Torah has fallen short of the required standard. This appears to be borne out by biblical instances of tzara’at: afflicting Miriam in the aftermath of her slanderous speech, Gehazi following his underhand attempt to extract money from Na’aman, and King Uzziah for his haughty insistence that his royal privilege entitled him to offer ketoret in the Mikdash. The purpose of the skin marking and subsequent quarantine is that it is supposed to serve as a Divinely-instigated indicator that the person’s conduct has fallen short, following which they undergo a period of contemplative seclusion and introspection.

R' Hirsch’s strong insistence that tzara’at is divinely ordained rather than a response to known contagious disease appears to be borne out by Rambam who writes in Mishneh Torah that:

This change that affects clothes and houses which the Torah described with the general term of tzara'at is not a natural occurrence. Instead it is a sign and a wonder prevalent among the Jewish people to warn them against lashon hora, "undesirable speech".

Rambam proceeds to explain the didactic process of tzara’atas well as detailing the poisonous potential of leaving the habits of idle and evil speech untreated.

Judaism Reclaimed explores the broader notion of ritual impurity in a couple of its chapters, providing alternatives to the suggestion that laws of tumah and taharah represented ancient sanitary and hygiene guidance. While citing the mystical view of tumah as a form of impure spiritual presence, and Rambam’s approach which sees it as a set of laws which promote (among other things) reverence of the Mikdash and holy matters, Judaism Reclaimed focuses primarily on the moral-symbolic approach promoted by R’ Hirsch. Upcoming posts will explore the Hirschian understanding of ritual impurity, with particular interest paid to the ritual impurity of the yoledet (woman who has recently given birth) and tumat met (corpse).

First posted on Facebook 18 April 2020, here.

Halachah in exile: rigidity, dispute and "the words of the living God"

Our previous post, Rambam and Decline of the Generations, introduced the Meshech Chochmah’s suggestion that our parashah warns of a loss of Torah wisdom in its tochachah-punishments. This suggestion was then developed and led to an exploration of the notion of ‘generational decline’ from a Maimonidean perspective. This post will look at another dimension of this loss of Torah knowledge which Judaism Reclaimed examines: the consequent rigidity of the halachic system and proliferation of dispute.

The Meshech Chochmah describes the dynamic role performed by the Sanhedrin of innovating (in accordance with the rules transmitted to them) in order to ensure that the Torah was suited to guide each generation according to its needs. Quoting Rambam’s introduction to Mishneh Torah, he laments that, as a result of exile, the nation suffered a diminution of Torah scholarship as well as the total loss of the Sanhedrin and ruach hakodesh. These losses necessitated the fixing and recording of the Oral Law. Since the time of the Mishnah, no beit din has had permission to innovate any matter. This inability to innovate or develop the Torah through hermeneutical interpretations or Rabbinic decrees, the Meshech Chochmah continues, has led to a questioning of the Torah’s continued relevance and application in a modern era, and is an inevitable result of the exile predicted in the tochachah.

Our chapter cites Talmudic examples of this previous halachic flexibility, such as frequent changes to rules of muktzeh and havdallah,which were based on the circumstances of the generation, and lenient rulings in matters of Torah law where the community was unable to afford required sacrifices. Rabbi David Nieto (Mateh Dan) writes that the persecution and exile also caused the oral tradition to fix numerous laws – such as order of prayers – which had previously been governed by individual autonomy or local custom. Significant variation in Talmudic accounts of tefillin and tzitzit– as well as unearthed ancient specimens – would appear to support this proposition.

A further phenomenon which Rambam attributes to the Roman persecution at the end of the Second Temple period is the proliferation of halachic disputes. This manifested itself in two ways. First, by limiting or at times totally preventing the effective functioning of the Sanhedrin (the supreme legal body charged with resolving halachic disputes as soon as they arose), the persecution led to differences of opinion between Sages both becoming more entrenched and to their being transmitted to students in their unresolved form. Secondly, the oppression and anti-religious decrees severely inhibited the teaching of Torah. As well as causing direct loss of Torah knowledge and expertise, generations of students with limited exposure to their Rabbinic teachers increasingly argued as to the details of transmitted halachic teachings.

Our attention then turns to the difficult question of how we are to relate, in today’s generation, to a Torah and religion which contains so many apparently contradictory and irreconcilable concepts, approaches, and opinions. In halachah and aggadah we are guided by the axiom of “eilu va’eilu divrei Elokim chayim”—all parties to a dispute represent equally the word of God. But at first sight, this merely deepens the problem: How can clearly conflicting viewpoints all be said to emanate from a single Divine source?

This question of how we are to understand the notion of how God can be taken to have endorsed both parties to a dispute is posed by a Gemara in the context of a debate over the cause of strife between a Benjaminite man and his concubine in the Book of Judges. The Gemara describes Eliyahu HaNavi reporting to one of the disputants, R’ Evyatar, that God was “busy studying the portion of pilegesh b’Give’ah,” and had approved both opinions, since eilu va’eilu divrei Elokim chayim. Probed further by R’ Evyatar as to how God could be in doubt with regard to the true nature of a historical event, Eliyahu explained that both factors cited in the debate were indeed contributing factors to the strife, and together could produce an accurate account of the episode.

A similar explanation is offered by Rashi elsewhere to explain how eilu va’eilu can be applied to a halachic debate. Rashi writes that both parties to the dispute are using their logic to determine how the case in question can be related most precisely to existing halachic principles and precedent. Both positions can therefore be assumed to represent equally valid applications of halachic methodology. Therefore, with sufficient scholarship, we could potentially subdivide the question into multiple scenarios, allowing each party’s argument to be adopted where more appropriate.

Further lengthy discussions include speculation as to how this technique might be applied to the rationalist and mystical traditions within Judaism (both of which accuse the other of having been infiltrated by external influences as a result of exile) as well as a detailed analysis of other aspects of Tannaic dispute such as the role of ethics in determining halachahand the origin of the oral tradition’s hermeneutical principles for interpreting the Torah. We also examine the potential obstacles that stand in the way of reintroducing flexibility into the current halachic system.

First posted to Facebook 14 May 2020, here.

Judaism Reclaimed reviewed

Now for a discussion of Judaism Reclaimed with Rabbi Joseph Dwek. You can access it here.

First posted on Facebook 17 May 2020, here.

One Torah to guide them all: divine depictions and careful contradictions

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Beha’alotecha opens by observing how the parashah’s narratives provide a clear insight into the broad range of spiritual levels that existed among the Jewish People in the Wilderness. We look at how the Torah caters for this diversity with laws which are nuanced and applicable to people on all different rungs of the ladder of spiritual growth.

This aspect of the Torah’s breadth of applicability is of primary concern to Rambam, who places great emphasis on the ability of the Torah to be relevant to the entire nation. For this reason, he explains, the Torah adopts a style of depicting God through the extensive use of anthropomorphism that, if taken literally, is not merely inaccurate but actually blasphemous. Rambam justifies this practice by invoking the maxim dibrah Torah belashon bnei adam — that the Torah ‘’talks in the language of man’’ in order to ensure that God’s existence is fully accepted and understood, even by people whose minds are equipped to relate only to physical existence rather than metaphysical spirituality. The Torah therefore describes God in human terms, portraying Him as moving, speaking and standing — activities which are truly applicable only to physical beings. The use of such terms implies that God’s actions are governed by the same physical limitations as man; they are therefore blasphemous when applied to God.

While the Torah employs anthropomorphic terminology when describing God and His actions, the Targum plays the crucial role of indicating to readers that anthropomorphic descriptions are not to be understood literally. Rambam writes glowingly of how Onkelos’ “translations” subtly departed from the Torah’s literal physical descriptions of God while doing so in a way that the masses were able to comprehend. Onkelos achieved this by, for example, referring in the context of God “moving” to God’s Shechinah (Presence) rather than God Himself, and by God “revealing Himself” rather than descending (a verb that depicts motion from one place to another). Rambam’s position is consistent with the great importance accorded to the Targum by the Gemara, which writes that the Targum Onkelos is an explanation of the Torah’s text which can be traced back to Ezra and which, the commentaries tell us, was part of the oral tradition which originated from Sinai.

Rambam’s position on anthropomorphism, specifically the notion that the Torah initially encourages heretical views as a necessary stepping-stone to achieving true beliefs – is one that many are liable to find shocking. A broader perspective of Rambam’s approach, however, allows one to appreciate that the Torah’s function is not to confront the Jewish People abruptly with a list of strict truths and harsh demands. Rather, it is a handbook which has been drafted in such a way as to coax and guide them towards correct conduct and beliefs (we examine certain examples of this phenomenon). The tension which arises from the need to incorporate within a single system both the ideal pursuit of divine truths and the common perception of religious piety is a central theme in Rambam’s thought, and underlines the Torah’s ability to cater simultaneously for multiple religious levels within the Jewish People.

The late Prof. Marvin Fox writes, in his highly-recommended Interpreting Maimonides, that it is this tension between which underlies the phenomenon of the “contradictions” which Rambam discusses in his introduction to Moreh Nevuchim. Responding to the Maimonidean theories advanced by academics such as Leo Strauss, who understood Rambam to be hinting that he had been forced to conceal his true radical views from the ‘masses’, Fox argues instead that they are indicative of Rambam’s religious realism. Rambam was acutely aware of the delicate balance which must be maintained between what he saw as the Torah’s ultimate goal of elevated intellectual connection to God on the one hand and the practical realities and imperfections of everyday religious engagement on the other.

In one example, he cites the claim of Maimonidean contradiction on the subject of prayer. Rambam teaches the philosophical truth that the only true praise of God is silence, since we are unable to formulate any accurate descriptions of God’s attributes. Yet he also codifies and upholds liturgical references to God being, among other things, “great and mighty”, tacitly recognising the need of the human spirit to express itself in words. Fox concludes that, in allowing both the denial of divine attributes and the duty to pray, Rambam “seems to affirm that there must be a place within a single system for the demands of both religious piety and philosophical truth”.

First posted on Facebook 7 June 2020, here.

A time for peace, a time for violence?

The painful images and accounts which have confronted us in recent days, first of the callous murder of a restrained black man at the hands of a policeman, and then of the widespread violent protests and looting that the murder triggered, have left many of us searching for an authentically ‘Jewish’ response to these events. Judaism Reclaimed explores the meaning and application of the notions of peace, zealotry and violence within the Torah in the context of its analysis of the complex religious personality of Pinchas and Eliyahu. A few important conclusions are offered:

The Concept of Peace. Rabbi S. R. Hirsch argues that the Torah’s conception of peace is a far more profound and noble concept than mere passivity or absence of violence. It represents a positive state of pursuing a common and unselfish higher goal – specifically that of serving God. It follows that a society which is plagued by division and discrimination, where certain groups perceive that their voices, needs and aspirations are inadequately represented, can never be truly at ‘peace’. It can at best produce an illusory peace –a lack of violence generated by a tense and typically unstable compromise between conflicting rival interests rather than the positive harmonious peace that we pray regularly for God to bestow upon us.

Acts of Violence. Building upon the above definition of peace, it can be demonstrated that the uncritical conflation of the notions of peace and passivity may be naive and at times even dangerous. One conspicuous example of this was the vilification of Winston Churchill in the 1930s as a “warmonger” for his insistence that Britain should rearm in the face of a growing Nazi threat, while Neville Chamberlain was considered the “man of peace” when he sought to appease German aggression. Thus acts of violence performed in pursuit of a greater aim of true peace may be considered justifiable, or even – as in the case of Pinchas – be deserving of a ‘Covenant of Peace’.

Limitations on Violence. While Judaism is therefore not a pacifistic religion, biblical approval for violent actions and uprisings is extremely limited and qualified. We demonstrate how the zealotry displayed by Pinchas and Eliyahu was approved in times of extreme national emergencies such as the immorality at Shittim and the horrific lawlessness in the episode of the Concubine at Giveah. Nevertheless, such an approach and conduct was strongly condemned by God (and Rabbinic commentators) when adopted more broadly, particularly when it would lead to suffering of innocents (such as Eliyahu demanding that God bring a famine to punish the idolatrous Israelite kingdom).

Disavowal of Violence as an Ideal: Biblical recognition of the notion of a ‘Time for War’ should not be mistaken for a broader approval or idealisation of violence. While meekness and passivity in the face of evil can make one complicit in its perpetration, the acts of violence that one is forced to undertake in this context should themselves be regarded as a necessarily evil and certainly not celebrated or adopted as an appropriate way of life. We cite the writings of Netziv as to how even biblically approved occasions of violence were accompanied by blessings or covenants of peace for the perpetrators. Those engaged in acts of war, even where justified and necessary, are susceptible to becoming hardened and increasingly prone to commit future acts of violence.

Similarly, while the possession and use of deadly weaponry may sometimes be legitimate and even obligatory, the Torah is careful to distance ife-shortening swords from the altar of God and the hands of those who have spilt blood from the construction of his Mikdash. It is with this perspective that we anticipate and pray for a future era when humanity will realise the follies of its selfish pursuits of power and wealth and the warfare and bloodshed that they generate. Only in such a world can the Jewish ideal finally be realised in which discrimination and division will be set aside and all Peoples will turn to serve God with a common voice. In such a setting, nations will “beat their swords into ploughshares, and theirspears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more”.

First posted on Facebook 4 June 2020, here.

Moshe's prophecy: an incomprehensible comprehension

At the conclusion of Parashat Beha’alotecha the Torah emphasises the gulf between ‘standard’ prophecy and the form received by Moshe. Prophecy in general, and the supremacy of Moshe’s perception of the divine word in particular, features strongly in all of Rambam’s primary works as he explores the precise nature of this ‘meeting of minds’ between the human and divine realm.

Rambam describes several unique features of Moshe’s prophecy, most importantly that he received God’s message directly (“panim e l panim”) rather than by means of an ‘angelic intermediary’. This direct intellectual encounter with the divine intellect granted Moshe a precise comprehension (“temunat Hashem yabit”) as opposed to the “riddles” and “dreams” that regular prophets were required to interpret. As we analyse in Judaism Reclaimed, Rambam understood the distinctive nature of Moshe’s prophecy – like all variations in prophetic ability – to be a result of his supremely balanced character traits. Each imbalanced trait is understood to create an additional “mechitzah” which impedes the prophet’s perception of God’s word. Moshe’s superior prophecy resulted from his success in perfecting all of his traits and thus removing all barriers to his comprehension.

While this explanation provides an understanding of Moshe’s distinct prophecy which is consistent with Rambam’s more rationalist natural approach to prophecy, it produces a number of further difficulties:

How are we to understand Rambam’s claim that Moshe had completely perfected his character traits? The biblical text openly discloses instances where Moshe appears to have fallen short – most notably in his anger with the people and in his lack of trust in God. Rabbinic commentaries typically expand upon these shortcomings, detailing their impact upon his ability to transmit God’s word (according to Vayikra Rabbah 13:1, three laws were hidden from Moshe, corresponding to three occasions on which he lost his temper). Can it be argued from Rambam’s perspective that these instances were all somehow justifiable? Or otherwise temporary aberrations that were not part of Moshe’s core personality? Perhaps the fact that he was “more humble than any man” meant that his personality could be completely negated and any imbalances therefore not encroach upon his intellect’s perception of God’s word?

A further question can be asked from within Rambam’s own writings. We read in Hilchot Teshuvah that all people have the ability to become “great like Moshe our teacher”. Does that mean that others can, in theory, reach his level of character perfection and, with it, prophetic perfection? If this is correct, then might the Torah’s statement -- that no prophet will arise like Moshe -- rely upon divine interference in (what Rambam regards to be) the broadly natural phenomenon of prophecy?

The discussion thus far has focused on the distinct nature of Moshe’s prophecy primarily from Rambam’s teachings in Mishneh Torahand various parts of his Commentary on the Mishnah. As is so often the case, the matter becomes significantly more complicated once we include the relevant passages of Moreh Nevuchim with its uniquely peculiar intrigue and dynamic.

Our previous post touched upon the subject of how deliberate contradictions within the Moreh are to be interpreted. The nature of Moshe’s prophecy offers another apparent example of this phenomenon, with Leo Strauss highlighting how Rambam first states that the Moreh will not discuss the nature of Moshe’s prophecy before making several considerable mentions of it in the subsequent chapters. Consistent with his broader approach to interpreting the Moreh, Strauss argues that this constitutes a ‘contradiction’ which indicates that Rambam did not truly subscribe to the ‘necessary religious belief’ of distinct Mosaic prophecy. According to this approach, the contradiction is a subtle esoteric signal to the sophisticated reader that in truth there is no superior ‘Mosaic’ religious teaching which can raise revelation over rational truth.

As in our previous post, Strauss’s theory is challenged by Prof. Marvin Fox in Interpreting Maimonides. Fox argues, among other points, that Rambam does not explain anything positive and substantial about the actual nature and functioning of Moshe’s unique prophecy. Rather, Rambam limits himself in these chapters to using Moshe’s ‘purely intellectual’ form of prophecy as a point of contrast to regular prophecy. Perhaps Rambam means to convey to his readers that – in keeping with other complex components of the Maimonidean system – we are forced to accept our inability to fathom the inner workings of Mosaic prophecy. We are unable to explain how Moshe’s unimpeded intellectual perception of divine truths is translated into precise biblical laws and words – including numerous anthropomorphic and other metaphors which appear to bear the hallmark of the imaginative faculties rather than the pure intellect. Ultimately, the most meaningful statements we can make about it are negative, such as that it does not involve the imagination or angelic intermediaries.

First posted to Facebook 11 June 2020, here.

Rosh Hashanah and the philosophical challenges of petitonary prayer

 In conversation with Rabbi David Silverstein

In a few short days, most of us will be gearing up for our biggest ‘’Prayer-thon” of the year. But how much time have we spent thinking about what prayer is and how it works?

• Are we somehow attempting to change God’s mind through our prayers?
• To persuade Him to through our words and feelings to improve our lot in the coming year?
• Can our words and thoughts really impact the fortunes of others we look to pray for?

In this conversation with Rabbi David Silverstein of Yeshivat Orayta, we explore the thoughts of Rambam, Rabbi S. R. Hirsch and Rabbi Yosef Albo among others as to the function and mechanism of petitionary prayer. What are the relative advantages of each of these approaches and how can we combine and draw upon all of them to enrich our prayers this Rosh Hashanah?

First posted on Facebook 15 September 2020, here.

Yom Kippur musings: Rambam's Hilchot Teshuvah and powerful prooftexts

 One of the central texts traditionally studied at this time of year is Rambam’s Hilchot Teshuvah: a supreme arrangement of traditional teachings on repentance, often through a Maimonidean perspective of the soul and Divine justice. Surprisingly little attention tends to be paid, however, to Rambam’s often peculiar choice of verses apparently cited in support of his teachings. I would like to present a couple of brief examples of the profound significance contained within some of these often skipped over features.

At the start of the third chapter of Hilchot Teshuvah, Rambam presents what appears to be a highly simplistic model of God’s justice system:

Each and every person has merits and sins. A person whose merits exceed his sins is righteous. A person whose sins exceed his merits is] wicked. If [his sins and merits] are equal, he is termed a Beinoni….If a person's sins exceed his merits, he will immediately die because of his wickedness as [Jeremiah 30:14] states: "for the multitude of your transgressions".

So simplistic is Rambam’s teaching, that Ra’avad jumps in with the obvious objection: we surely see plenty of wicked people living long lives. It may be instructive however to read Rambam’s teaching – including his non-obvious prooftext – in light of Rambam’s definition of “life” and “death” from Moreh Nevuchim (1:42).

There Rambam demonstrates that, in addition to their literal renderings, the terms “life” and “death” are commonly used in both biblical and rabbinic sources to refer to the acquisition of wisdom (and desirable character traits). On this basis, the sages teach “the righteous even in their death are considered alive” since they have acquired the means to maintain a connection to God, while “the wicked in their lifetime are called dead” since they lack such a connection.

The verse in Jeremiah cited by Rambam to support his teaching refers to the Jewish nation at its lowest ebb being forgotten and abandoned because of its mass of sins. This verse does not refer to literal death, but rather to a suspension of the nation’s special providential relationship with God as a result of sin (see Abarbanel among others). It can be suggested therefore, that Rambam’s choice of prooftext is subtly alluding to the metaphorical connotation of death. If this is true, it would seem that Rambam would explain aggadic teachings and prayers in the Yom Kippur liturgy to be referring to those “written in the book” of true life – ie connection to God – or true death – the lack of such a connection.

Another example of the profound nature of Rambam’s prooftexts can be found in the same passage. Rambam writes that:

This reckoning is not calculated [only] on the basis of the number of merits and sins, but also their magnitude. There are some merits which outweigh many sins as implied by [I Kings 14:13]: "Because in him, there was found something good."

While, as Rambam continues to explain, we cannot fathom God’s divine system of accounting and justice his astonishing choice of prooftext does afford us a degree of insight. Out of all of the biblical examples of righteous actions and praiseworthy deeds, Rambam highlights the actions of Aviyah, son of Yeravam. A man who is condemned to a premature death along with the rest of the wicked and idolatrous royal family. The biblical text does not reveal the nature of this “something good” through which Aviyah alone merited a respectable death and burial. The Talmud however informs us that Aviyah removed the armed guards who had been stationed to prevent pilgrims from the Northern Kingdom from traveling to the Beit Hamikdash.

Providing broader context, the political and religious legitimacy of Yeravam’s regime relied on the fact that his subjects would no longer admire and look to the Davidic leadership for guidance. Aviyah’s willingness to remove the guards and make it easier for people to travel to the Mikdash thus represented significant personal sacrifice. He was, in effect, putting his own royal position and legitimacy at risk by allowing access to Jerusalem.

What Rambam appears to be indicating through his prooftext is that, while we are capable of measuring and comparing the objectiveworth of the mitzvot, the degree of effort and self-sacrifice that a person injects into any good deed can cause it to outweigh many other merits.

[This second example was heard from Rabbi Lippa Rabinowitz]

G’mar Chatima Tova. An easy and meaningful fast to all.

First posted to Facebook 26September 2020, here.