Unfulfilled prophecies and Moshe's sudden seismic shift

One of the chapters of Judaism Reclaimed that I found most intriguing to research relates to the difficult question of unfulfilled biblical prophecies, and its impact on the apparent lack of confidence in divine assurances displayed by various prophets.

In his introduction to the book of Chaggai, Malbim grapples with prophecies from the early Second Temple period which predict the imminent onset of a Messianic era. Citing a Talmudic source in support, Malbim argues that such prophecies were not intended as definitive statements of future events, rather they were contingent upon the righteous conduct of the nation in that era. Malbim’s approach to prophecy, for which we find precedents in earlier sources, is that it only discloses “what should occur if there is no sin”. Such a notion also appears to be borne out in Yirmiyah’s statement “But if it [a nation]…disobeys My voice, the I will retract the good which I had said to bestow upon it”. Such an approach holds out the prospect of resolving a number of difficulties: we find the Avot at times displaying fear and concern despite divine reassurances, Moshe at the Burning Bush reacting to God’s “I will be with you” with repeated apprehension, and Rabbi Akiva declaring that the Ten Tribes are eternally lost despite prophetic predictions of future reunification.

Rambam, however, emphatically rejects such an approach, writing that no positive prophecy can ever be withdrawn or viewed as contingent. Rambam argues that, were prophecy to be subject to uncertainty and change, this would disqualify the process of authentication of a prophet which is premised on our confidence in the accuracy of his or her predictions. This position draws additional support from Talmudic sources as well as an episode in which Yirmiyah condemns a putative prophet, Chananiah ben Azzur, as false on the basis of an inaccurate positive prediction.

I believe that the solution to these difficulties lies in an original and illuminating, yet breathtakingly simple proposal of the Maharal, based on separating prophecies into two distinct categories: Promises (“havtachot”), on the one hand, in which the prophet relays what will transpire should the recipients be found deserving of such a fate, and definitive statements of pre-ordained reality on the other in which the prophet tells of an irrevocable divine decision. Detecting which mode of prophecy is being transmitted requires a close reading of the biblical text. When the prophecy is presented in the future tense, this signifies that the predicted event is contingent on the worthiness of those involved. Other prophecies, by contrast, make use of the “prophetic past tense”, to indicate that the prophet is foretelling an unalterable and sealed divine decision.

Maharal detects his principle in the commentary of Rashi to the Covenant of the Parts. When Avraham is initially informed that his descendants will inherit the Land, he seeks reassurance “How will I know that I will inherit it?”. However, once God has stated (past tense) that “to your descendants I have given this land”, Avraham’s doubt dissipates. Rashi comments: “the word of God is as if it has been performed”.

Judaism Reclaimed uses this key to resolve difficulties in several biblical and Rabbinic passages. Most significant perhaps is the light that it shines on the perplexing dynamics between God and Moshe at the start of the book of Shemot. After being approached at the Burning Bush with the instruction to relay God’s word to Pharaoh and the Jewish people, Moshe is extremely reluctant and appears to lack confidence in the success of the mission. This despite God telling him “I will be with you”. This lack of confidence continues into parashat Va’eira until God discloses “I haveplaced you as a Master over Pharaoh”. With this prophetic statement of pre-ordained fact, Moshe’s worries evaporate, and he henceforth fearlessly confronts Pharaoh and his courtiers without a hint of concern or protest.

As an aside, I have translated the term “Elohim” very loosely as “Master” over Pharaoh. In response to Christian theologians, who have seen significance in this apparently godly description of Moshe, Rabbi S. R. Hirsch highlights the unexpected genealogical enumeration of the first three tribes that immediately precedes this verse, understanding that its purpose is to emphasise the essential humanity of Moshe. The Jewish redeemer and lawgiver was conceived and born of regular flesh and blood and distinguished by his actions rather than any innate Superhero or godly status. More on this last point in Rabbi Simi Rivka Lerner‘s excellent podcast.

First posted on Facebook 25 January 2020, here.

Yad mamash: Professor Marc Shapiro and divine incorporeality in Jewish tradition

Early feedback received from readers of Judaism Reclaimed indicates that one particular chapter seems to have caught people’s imagination: our critique of the arguments presented by Prof Marc Shapiro in the first section of his influential and thought-provoking book The Limits of Orthodox Theology.to mark this week’s parashah, which features one of Shapiro’s important claims – based on Rashi’s interpretation of the term “God’s hand” as “Yad Mamash” (lit. “real hand”).

While the broader theme of Shapiro’s book can be described as an attempt to demonstrate the range of dispute which has existed over what are now regarded as core Jewish beliefs, the chapters which I examine assess the consistency of Rabbinic belief in Divine corporeality. Judaism Reclaimed first establishes that Jewish belief in a non-physical nature should not be regarded as part of any kind of illegitimate rational revolution wrought by Rambam. Rather, a strong tradition of rendering anthropomorphism metaphorically can be traced back through the Geonic and Talmudic era to ancient times, well before Rambam formalised his Thirteen Principles.

At first glance, Shapiro appears to have amassed an impressive array of religious and historical sources which point towards belief in a physical God. Our chapter seeks to place these sources under the microscope to determine whether they stand up to sustained scrutiny. What shows up first are sources (such as Rabbi Moshe Cordovero and Josephus) of which Shapiro has quoted a single line from a much larger chapter. Examination of the chapter in its entirety, however, reveals that the source is actually stating, sometimes in very strong terms, the opposite of what Shapiro would have us believe.

Our critique also highlights significant omissions questioning, for example, whether it is accurate to declare Rashi a ‘corporealist’ on the basis of a single statement of “Yad Mamash” in this week’s parashah, when other explicit statements of Rashi - to which Shapiro makes no reference – explicitly contradict this conclusion. We note how leading academic opinions are not given a voice when they dispute Shapiro’s interpretations (even if these same academics are approvingly feted elsewhere in his book).

Much of Shapiro’s chapter focuses on literal readings of aggadic or kabbalistic sources which, he claims, are “very difficult to understand metaphorically”. Little effort, however, is expended on providing any form of context from the almost unanimous tradition that much aggadic material is intended to be understood metaphorically. Similarly, Shapiro does not cite the conclusions of leading scholars from both the academic and religious worlds who unite in their insistence that, to quote Professor Gerschom Scholem “limbs of the human body [mentioned in mystical sources]…are nothing but images of a certain spiritual mode of existence…the Divine Being Himself cannot be expressed. All that can be expressed are His symbols”. By including even such brief explanations of mystical terminology and concepts, Shapiro could have afforded his readers a better opportunity to assess the credibility of his claims regarding the corporeal implications of Kabbalah. It is argued that Shapiro’s failure to engage the basic structures of these systems results in him drawing superficial and at times misleading conclusions from their words.

The debate surrounding Divine corporeality within Jewish tradition requires great nuance, scholarship and even-handedness in order to determine accurately the meaning of texts which are regarded, by religious and academic scholarship alike, to contain esoteric or hidden meanings. It is my contention that the relevant chapters of The Limits of Orthodox Theology fall well short in each of these categories.

Note: The related debate in Hilchot Teshuvah between Rambam and Ra’avad over the implications of belief in a physical deity is examined in the preceding chapter of Judaism Reclaimed.

First posted on Facebook 1 February 2020, here.

Mishpatim: Talmud study and mitzvot in Rambam's worldview

The chapters of Judaism Reclaimed which relate to parashat Mishpatim focus on the famous “na’aseh venishma” acceptance of the Torah by the Jewish people. We open with an observation from Rabbi Y. D. Soloveitchik in his Bet Halevi that the aggadic praise and angelic crowns merited by the nation was on account of them having said “We will study” AFTER “We will do”. This order is understood to signify that Torah study provides an inherent benefit which goes beyond simply learning how to perform the mitzvot.

We note that such an interpretation is highly consistent with Rambam’s broader approach to Judaism, which values intellectual comprehension of divine matters (at its peak, abstract theological ‘truths’) as the highest goal of Judaism, with the mitzvot representing essential stepping stones which condition and enable people to achieve such an understanding.

Harder to determine is the precise role and value which Rambam assigned to traditional Talmudic study. On the one hand, he clearly views it as a lower priority than gaining a comprehension of the esoteric passages of Ma’aseh Bereishit and Merkavah, which he understood to contain profound truths concerning both the physical world and its relationship to the metaphysical/spiritual realm. This is evident both from letters of guidance he wrote to his students as well as from his controversial palace parable, near the end of Moreh Nevuchim, in which philosophers are able to gain closer proximity to the King (representing God) than theologically-unschooled Talmudists. This lower standing awarded to Talmudists is sometimes combined with Rambam’s introduction to Mishneh Torah – which states that it was written to allow students to bypass Talmud – to point to the conclusion that Rambam saw little value in traditional Talmud study.

This conclusion however sits uncomfortably with other teachings of Rambam, such as his description of required Torah study in Hilchot Talmud Torah which focuses on the complexities of how halacha is derived logically and hermeneutically from its sources and how the Talmudic analyses of Abaye and Rava “settle the mind”. Furthermore, in his introduction to Mishneh Torah itself, Rambam also lauds the great wisdom and Talmud study of earlier sages, before writing that Gemara “requires wide knowledge, a wise mind and much time, and only after that can one know…Torah laws”.

Judaism Reclaimed examines Rambam’s approach to intellectual development and knowledge across several of his works, drawing upon thematic and linguistic patterns as well as notable Rabbinic and academic thinkers to propose a solution which reconciles these sources. Finally, this conclusion is employed to address a common criticism of Rambam’s explanations of the mitzvot in the third section of Moreh Nevuchim: The claim that Rambam’s reasons are overly-dismissive of halachic detail while their utility is often uninspiring and barely applicable in the modern era.

First posted to Facebook 20 February 2020, here.

Miketz: inspired dreams and prophetic insights

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Miketz traces a pattern of events in which God manipulates Yosef's destiny by means of mysterious dreams. Initially it was Yosef himself who received two dreams which indicated his future rise to authority over his brothers and even his father. Then, in Egypt, Pharaoh’s servants and eventually Pharaoh himself were troubled by dreams which only Yosef could interpret. What exactly is the nature of these dreams, and how are they to be distinguished from standard prophecy?

It appears from the commentators that there are three distinct categories of dreams. First there are regular 'frivolous' dreams, which are a synthesis of the mind's images and ideas drawn from the dreamer’s previous conscious states. Then there are chalomot tzodkot, meaningful dreams such as those which were divinely inspired in Yosef's story. Finally, there are dreams that contain prophecy and which are treated as an entirely different order of experience.

Or Hachaim explains that a 'meaningful dream', which is indicated in the Torah by use of the word "vehineh”, consists of an extremely vivid and lucid dream-experience. In addition, it must be unambiguously clear to the dreamer that there exists a deeper, hidden meaning which he will instantly recognise as correct at the moment it is suggested to him. This mechanism of instant recognition is seen in the responses of Pharaoh and his servants to Yosef's proposed interpretations, and even more dramatically in Sefer Daniel by Nebuchadnezzar's reaction when Daniel first related the content of the dream to him and then proceeded to interpret it. In each of these cases the dreamer, profoundly disturbed by his experience, enthusiastically embraces the correct resolution as soon as it is offered.

The distinction between frivolous and meaningful dreams is highlighted in a fascinating explanation by Netziv of the behaviour of Yosef's brothers in response to his dreams. The brothers initially respond with hatred to what they assume to be 'frivolous’ dreams, reflections of the delusions of grandeur which, they believed, Yosef had been harbouring during his waking hours. However, their father Ya'akov takes the dreams seriously: an indication that they are divinely inspired. At this point the brothers’ hatred (“vayisne’u”) gives way to jealousy ("vayekanu") as they are forced to concede Yosef's superiority but nonetheless struggle to come to terms with it.

A greater challenge is posed by the need to understand the differences between divinely-inspired dreams and genuine prophecy. In an extensive analysis which spans a full eleven chapters of Moreh Nevuchim, Rambam explains the nature of divine inspiration and revelation, focusing on the differing aspects of the mind and soul. He makes a crucial distinction between the 'dimyon'(imagination) and the 'sechel'(intellect): the imagination is part of the 'lower neshamah' which governs a person's interactions with the physical world, while the intellect is the 'tzelem Elokim' — the Godly component through which human comprehension can transcend the physical world.

The special dreams which feature throughout Yosef's elevation to power are divinely-inspired experiences, emerging primarily from the imagination rather than from the pure intellect. Divine inspiration does not only provide and influence the details of such an experience; it also creates a feeling of certainty that the dream is 'true' and requires an explanation.

Prophecy, by contrast, is experienced primarily by the intellect, providing a profound insight into God's truths and how they relate to His running of the world. Since God has no physicality, nothing experienced (or imagined to have been experienced) through the medium of any of the five physical senses can constitute a genuine 'Godly experience'. Rambam describes instead how a person who has developed his intellect and character becomes a receptacle into which God‘s 'shefa Eloki' can be directed. By receiving this shefa, the prophet transcends the limitations of the human intellect and gains Godly knowledge.

In most biblical prophecies, this knowledge relates to God's attitude towards specific events and religious or political aspects of the world, and the prophet becomes aware of a correct course of action. Absorption of this Godly knowledge can also grant the prophet knowledge of the future, since God's knowledge is not bound by time. Even where the imagination is engaged in a prophecy through the receipt of prophetic visions, this is merely to assist the prophet's understanding of the truth or message. Thus the explanation of the vision – the divine message being communicated – is always the primary component of the prophecy.

The chapter proceeds to analyse further Rambam’s understanding of prophecy, with a specific focus on the unique nature of Moshe’s prophecy and the ways in which Rambam’s understanding of prophecy signals a significant departure from Aristotle’s worldview.

First posted to Facebook 24 December 2019, here.

The House of the Resting Shechinah -- Human attempts to conceptualize God

The coming week’s parashah poses a thorny theological challenge – the notion of God ‘residing’ in a specific location within the physical world. In his dedication of the first Mikdash (Kings I, the wise king Shlomo was highly sensitive to this complexity, stating: 

 “But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Behold the heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain You; much less this temple that I have erected”. 

Nevertheless, Shlomo puts aside his apparently unsolved conundrum and states:

"That Your eyes may be open toward this house night and day, toward the place which You said, 'My Name will be there;' to listen to the prayer that Your servant will pray toward this place”.

It is possible that Shlomo’s petition embodies an approach neatly formulated in a far later era by Rabbi S. R. Hirsch, which recognises that God’s existence and essence lie well beyond human comprehension, and instead chooses to focus exclusively on the practicalities of the God-human relationship. R’ Hirsch was adamantly opposed to what he regarded as the over-philosophising of descriptions of God in the Torah, accusing its proponents of causing God’s Personality to become “increasingly blurred and indistinct to our perceptions”. Rather, 

“belief in the Personality of God is more important than the speculations of those who reject the attribution of material features to God”.

Professor Joseph Dan, a leading scholar in the subject of medieval Jewish thinkers, proposes a similar interpretation of anthropomorphic statements in the writings of the Rishonim – most striking among them the Bohemian Rabbi, Moshe Taku. R’ Taku’s Ketav Tamim at first glance contains overwhelming evidence of Rabbinic belief in the notion that God has physical attributes, a fact not missed by Prof Marc Shapiro (The Limits of Orthodox Theology) who regards R Taku as the “most significant” example of Rabbinic corporealism. Prof Dan however, whose opinion is not mentioned in The Limits…, writes that:

He [R’ Taku] insists on the literal acceptance of the prophets' descriptions of their visions as well as the anthropomorphic references to God in talmudic-midrashic literature. He does not do so because of his belief in the literal veracity of these descriptions; he only insists that they represent the maximum that can be conveyed concerning God's essence and appearance, and that any further inquiry cannot lead to valid conclusions. God chose to reveal to us in the scriptures whatever is found in them: man should be satisfied with that, and ask no more questions. It is not that Rabbi Moses Taku believed in an anthropomorphic God; most probably, he did not.

Just as R’ Hirsch regarded human speculations as to God’s essence as futile and distracting from the primary religious endeavour since “the maturest mind of the philosopher knows no more about the essence of God than the simple mind of a child”, R’ Taku is similarly dismissive of attempts to place God within what he perceives to be a restrictive rational framework: “they are issuing decrees to the Creator as to how He must be. By doing so they are degrading themselves”. (Some fascinating debate surrounding the proper interpretation of R’ Taku’s work has been taking place in the comments section to this recent blogpost of R’ Slifkin relation to a chapter of Judaism Reclaimed).

Rambam, however, who studied in a philosophical setting more confident in its ability to discern “absolute truths”, is more prepared to embrace the fruit of rational human contemplation even concerning God (he crucially identifies the human intellect with the “image of God” of Bereishit). While he strongly asserts that the human intellect and language cannot make any positive pronouncements in this area, he does allow and even require us to declare what God is NOT. In a similar vein, he is sufficiently confident in the binding nature of his rational conclusions to declare that God’s inability to perform the impossible or take on what we perceive to be limiting physical attributes “signifies neither inability nor deficiency of power on His part”. Rambam’s confidence in human rationality leads him to the philosophising of anthropomorphic passages in the Torah which dominates the opening section of Moreh Nevuchim. Others such as R’ Taku and R’ Hirsch appear to have been more convinced of the limitations of human speculation regarding the divine. Their interpretation of anthropomorphic texts was therefore limited to the practicalities of the religious message they sought to convey.

First posted to Facebook 22 February 2020, here.

Yitro, the spirit of Sinai: legal loopholes, halachic fictions and approaching homosexuality

The chapters of Judaism Reclaimed which relate to parashat Yitro open with Rabbi S. R. Hirsch’s interpretation of the various instructions governing the conduct of the Jewish people in the lead-up to the Sinai revelation. The people were first instructed to prepare and purify themselves for the forthcoming Divine revelation. Then, at the time of the law-giving, they were warned not to approach the mountain. Each of these rules was intended to emphasize that the Torah was being communicated to the Jews from an external superior source and did not emanate from within them.

The fields of anthropology and sociology view religion, like arts and culture, as a mere projection of the social values of a society, a means by which we can understand the behaviour and beliefs of the social unit formed by its adherents. In this sense, R’ Hirsch continues, Judaism stands apart and cannot be truly defined as a religion, since the Torah’s rigorous and demanding laws do not reflect the religious and moral status of the nation which first received them. An earlier chapter of Judaism Reclaimed discussed the ways in which the Torah’s religious and moral teachings were revolutionary in the Ancient Near East. That the Jewish People were required to prepare themselves for several days in advance of receiving the Torah combined with the prohibition against drawing near the mountain during the revelation reinforces the distinction between the source of the communication and the people to whom it was addressed, and emphatically rejects the notion that the Torah emanated within the people themselves.

We highlight further potential implications of this distinction between the Lawgiver and the Torah’s recipients, examining the extent to which it is considered legitimate to assert reasons for mitzvot and, by extension, the presence of a ‘spirit of halachah’. In his Shemonah Perakim, Rambam notes an apparent aggadic contradiction on this subject. On the one hand there is a Talmudic statement that “even if certain commandments had not been written in the Torah, we could legitimately claim that they ought to have been”, which presumes that we are able to discern reasons and spirit for the mitzvot. This is contrasted with the teaching that “One should not say that he does not wish for non-kosher food [etc]; rather, he should say, I would like to partake of it but my Father in Heaven has forbidden it to me”. Rambam shows how mitzvot which he labels mefursamot (widespread) – i.e. those which are commonly legislated in society (e.g. not to steal, murder…) – are understood to be in accordance with the Torah’s broader spirit and we would therefore expect to be prohibited. By contrast, mitzvot which have bear no clearly apparent reason (chukkim) such as prohibitions against certain foods and clothing mixtures are observed out of obedience to God’s word.

The chapter continues with an extended analysis in which we attempt to demonstrate how Rabbinic legislation from the Mishnah and Gemara takes considerable notice of this distinction. When the Rabbis were dealing with chukkim, since our understanding of these is limited to the letter of the laws themselves, there can be no objection to making use of and even devising original legal loopholes and fictions (commonly found in laws such as vows and non-charitable tithes). After all, it can hardly be claimed that one is abrogating a spirit of a law that can be neither detected nor fathomed. By contrast, widespread mefursamot laws which typically guide people towards moral and religious goals can be understood to contain a spirit which must be guarded and maintained – the Rabbis thus responded powerfully to those who sought to use halachic loopholes to do things like avoiding repaying a debt or discharging their charity obligations. Numerous sources are brought to support these contentions and particular focus placed on the concept of a legal fiction as it exists in secular legal systems and halacha.

The chapters conclude by relating this principle to a burning contemporary issue in modern Orthodox Judaism: the extent to which halachah can/must legitimately pursue flexibility and loopholes in order to assist homosexuals struggling to reconcile their religious beliefs with their sexual inclinations. Based upon the principle proposed in these chapters, the first stage of Rabbinic engagement with this question is to determine the correct categorisation of the prohibition of “mishkav zachor” -- a task which proves to be highly complex. If the prohibition is to be viewed as mefursam(widespread) then scope for Rabbinic intervention is strictly limited whereas, if it is an unintelligible chok, this could pave the way for potential loopholes and leniencies.*

While the prohibition against homosexuality was once considered mefursam, fathomable and widely accepted in Western societies, recent years have seen a shift in public opinion, which may place it in the category of chukkim rather than mefursamot. But can the spirit of a mitzvah be subject to change? 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 categorized as mefursam does a law need to have been consistently and universally applied? How much can be read into the Torah’s epithet of to’eivah – a term which is heavily analysed in an earlier chapter? Judaism Reclaimed does not propose a solution to this difficult question.

*Practical halachic questions on the subject of homosexuality are not addressed in Judaism Reclaimed,which directs its readers to the outstanding analysis by Rabbi Chaim Rapoport in Judaism and Homosexuality: An Authentic Orthodox View.

First posted to Facebook 13 February 2020, here.