Maimonide’s View on Divine Providence, Acc. to Moshe Halbertal

From Maimonides: Life and Thought by Moshe Halbertal (Princeton, 2014) pp. 338-341

 

“Maimonides’ position departs in no uncertain terms from the traditional view of providence, which believes that God punishes the wicked and rewards the ordinary (that is, those who are neither wicked nor virtuous). According to Maimonides, the wicked and the ordinary, constituting most of humanity, are relegated to happenstance. But despite this dramatic divide, the concept he presents has an internal religious logic: providence is not a basic given and does not apply to all people; it is, rather, something achieved only by a few. Throughout existence, God attends only to species as a whole, but perfected human beings merit individual providence. How that individual providence operates, however, is subject to widely differing interpretations.

 

The conservative reading of the Guide offers one such interpretation. The causal structure is what controls all existence and the fate of most men, but perfected men are subject to God’s special attention, and He exercises His will to protect them from the harms and misfortunes that befall other creatures. On this reading, nature and wisdom are maintained with respect to reality as a whole, but when necessary, divine will bursts through and acts within it. If that is so, Maimonides rejected the [Islamic] Ash’arite position, according to which God’s willful providence governs every individual and event to the point of negating the entire causal order. But he also rejects the Aristotelian position, which sees the causal order as the exclusive principle governing all existence, wicked and perfected alike. According to the conservative reading, Maimonides’ view of providence parallels his views of creation and prophecy. With respect to creation, he preserved a necessary, fundamental element of creation in time-the creation of existence ex nihilo – and allows for the action of divine will when necessary. With respect to prophecy, he interpreted the phenomenon as a natural one but left room for a supernatural exercise of will in the case of Moses’ prophecy. The same structure can be seen in connection with providence. The causal order applies everywhere except with regard to perfected people, who are protected by God’s will. Accordingly, the principle of causal wisdom is not the exclusive explanation for what happens in the universe, and it is limited in areas related to the principles of religion-creation, prophecy, and  providence.

 

The Guide’s philosophical readers, for their part – that is, those who understood it as affirming eternal preexistence-took a very different view of the idea that perfected people were subject to divine providence on an individual basis. On their reading, which seems to have better internal, textual logic, perfected individuals are not providentially overseen by means of divine intervention volitionally bestowed only on them. Providential oversight is afforded them, rather, by reason of causal reality itself, and it can be accounted for in terms of wisdom, not will. The perfection of the individuals who enjoy providence is commensurate with their apprehension of God and the world, as Maimonides emphasized, and that apprehension affords them two advantages that distinguish them from other men and beasts. Those advantages are theirs without any intervention of the divine will.

 

The first advantage is that of a place in the world to come; their souls do not perish and they are not eliminated from the world. Like Aristotle, Maimonides believed that providence implies the possibility of eternity and stability inherent in the causal order. That capacity for eternity is granted to those who attain knowledge and become bound to the active intellect; accordingly, providence – bestowed, in Aristotle’s view, only on sorts whose eternity is ensured – pertains to perfected individuals.

 

Samuel Ibn Tibbon read Maimonides this way, understanding him to hold the view that individual providence did not involve willful divine intervention in an individual’s life. In a letter on providence that he sent to Maimonides (and that Maimonides never answered), he afforded a philosophical interpretation to the concept of prophecy as it appeared in the Guide. In his view, misfortunes befell perfected people in the same way as others, and God did not intervene to free them from poverty, illness, or travail. But because they adhere to the proper goal of apprehending the intelligibles, which assures them eternal life, they do not regard these events as troubles. They do not consider such things as loss of wealth, illness, or handicap to be losses, for they are bound to what truly matters and what assures a person eternal life. Accordingly, in addition to the eternal life these individuals are assured of, they experience providence in their day-to-day lives, expressed not in the form of events that happen to them but as a profound change in consciousness.

 

The second advantage that apprehension affords to individuals overseen by providence was formulated by Moses Ibn Tibbon, Samuel’s son. Unlike his father, Moses held that those perfected in thought were protected from troubles in a practical way, but not because God willfully directed reality to their benefit, as the conservative reading would have it. Rather, the knowledge of the world that these people acquired allowed them to live better-protected lives, and that is their second natural advantage: they know how to foresee risks and properly assess situations. Moreover, their focus on the higher goal of knowing God frees them from the mental and physical woes that ensue when a person’s life is controlled by his desires. Perfected individuals are distinguished, then, by being providentially protected from the afflictions of the world to a greater extent than other people, bur in the understanding associated with a preexisting universe, that distinctiveness does not entail a miraculous departure from the causal order. The protection and endurance simply reflect the fact that the causal order itself does well for the good.

 

Conservative and philosophical readers agree that Maimonides’ great innovation here was the idea that providence was something afforded only to individuals and that other people were given over to chance. He thereby rejected the position of the [Islamic] Kalam, which saw divine intervention in every event that transpired in the world, and dissented from the traditional Jewish view that individual providence governed all people. According to Maimonides, God’s presence and providence, for most people, are mediated via the causal order that He created, an order to which people are subject. The dispute between the conservative and philosophical readings pertains to how the providence extended to perfected individuals should be understood: is it effected through willful divine intervention, as the [Islamic]  Kalam understood it to be, or is it built into the causal order itself, to be understood in terms of eternity and immortality, as Aristotle understood providence with respect to other species? The philosophical reading affords Maimonides’ acceptance of reality, emphatically declared in the discussion of theodicy, a more profound meaning. Existence itself, structured through divine wisdom, corresponds to the varying degrees of human virtue, responding to differences among people without any need for willful divine intervention.”

Parashat Shoftim 5774 – On National Unity and Self-Criticism

וּבִעַרְתָּ הָרָע מִקִּרְבֶּךָ

 

Parashat Shoftim begins by introducing the leadership of the judges and officers of the Nation of Israel (Devarim 16:18). The rest of the parashah is spent discussing various legal situations, when it is appropriate to go to which leaders, such as the King, whose position and laws are also introduced (17:14-20). The first case introduced is the case of an idolater found “in the midst of” the people, who is to be executed if his transgression is attested to by at least two witnesses (17:2-7). This case is closed by a final condition of the execution, namely, that it has to be initiated by the witnesses. “The hand of the witnesses shall be upon him first to put him to death, and afterward the hand of all the people” (17:7). This condition seems a bit odd. The witnesses just did a favor, of sorts, for society by enabling the functioning of the judicial system, and suddenly they are saddled with additional, not to mention unpleasant, responsibilities. A similar situation is found in 13:7-12, where a person’s closest companion suddenly attempts to draw them into idolatry, and not only do they have to ensure that the person is killed, but they have to strike first. “For you shall surely kill him; your hand shall be upon him first to put him to death, and afterwards the hand of all the people” (13:10). Both of these oddities, however, can be explained by taking a look at some larger linguistic phenomenon, and the ideas they introduce, throughout the laws of Parashat Shoftim and Sefer Devarim.

This is perhaps best demonstrated by the archetypical legal case, introduced almost immediately after the command to appoint officers and judges in 16:18.

If there is found in your midst, within any of your gates which the Lord your God gave you, a man or woman that does that which is evil in the sight of the Lord your God… and it is told to you, and you hear it, then you shall inquire diligently, and, behold, if it is true, and the matter is certain that such abomination was done in Israel; then you shall bring forth that man or that woman, who has done this evil thing, to your gates and you shall stone them with stones, the man or the woman, that they die. By the mouth of two witnesses, or three witnesses, shall he that is to die be put to death; at the mouth of one witness he shall not be put to death. The hand of the witnesses shall be upon him first to put him to death, and afterward the hand of all the people, and you shall burn the evil from your midst. (17:2-7)

The first thing that’s notable here is that in contrast to the discussion of the judicial system as it is described in Shemot 19, the case does not begin with the bringing of a query before the judge, but with a wrongdoer that is “found” in the midst of the people. Only when the case cannot be solved is it taken to higher authorities to adjudicate (17:8-13). This is connected to one of the unique features of Sefer Devarim’s style, the emphasis on things happening “בִּשְׁעָרֶיךָ,”“in your gates.” The word “שְׁעָרֶיךָ” shows up exactly one time in the Torah outside of Sefer Devarim, in Shemot 20:10, whereas in Sefer Devarim alone it shows up a grand total of twenty-seven times. The laws of Sefer Devarim put a lot of emphasis on the way things will occur at the various Israelite towns and cities throughout the Land of Israel. This is due to the focus on centralization that simultaneously appears in the laws of Sefer Devarim, as shown by the predominance of the phrase “הַמָּקוֹם אֲשֶׁר יִבְחַר יְ׳הוָה,” “the place that ‘א will choose.” All of the proper judicial and religious institutions are located at one central location, which is something that works fine when you’re traveling in the desert, but not when you’re scattered in permanent cities throughout the Land of Israel. Thus Sefer Devarim indicates that the legal system, rather than being a matter of top-down enforcement, is something that has to come from the people. The people are responsible for making sure that the laws are enforced and that the system works.

Intimately related to this is the way that many of the legal cases of Sefer Devarim conclude with the rather unique phrase, “וּבִעַרְתָּ הָרָע מִקִּרְבֶּךָ,” “And you shall burn the evil from your midst.” In the basic legal case from 17:2-7, this phrase appears at the very end of the passage, but it also referenced at the very beginning with the phrase, “כִּי-יִמָּצֵא בְקִרְבְּךָ,” “If there is found in your midst.” Barring a few slight differences, the phrase “וּבִעַרְתָּ הָרָע מִקִּרְבֶּךָ” appears 10 times throughout chapters 13-24 of Sefer Devarim, in a variety of legal contexts, from idolatry (13:6) to the judicial process (17:12; 19:18) to kidnapping (24:7). Bnei Yisrael are one nation with one “midst,” and where evil is allowed to fester, the nation rots from within. The purpose of the judicial system is maintaining the legal and moral uprightness of the Nation of Israel[1]. Justice isn’t about ‘א, it’s about national integrity. Part of maintaining an upright and lawful nation is making sure that evil is not allowed to fester and grow within the heart of the society.Caring for the Nation of Israel is not a task relegated to it’s leaders. The unity of the nation that requires each citizen to be responsible for the whole. Therefore, when a person is confronted with such evil, they cannot simply ignore it, but instead they must stand up and confront it, as each person is responsible for this. It is this incredible responsibility that is the basis for the law of “The hand of the witnesses shall be upon him first to put him to death, and afterward the hand of all the people” (17:7). When a person “finds” (17:2) evil in the midst of the nation, they are responsible for ensuring it is removed.

It is unfortunately clear that the Jewish People enjoy no innate moral superiority. Our communities certainly have our share of issues. This doesn’t make us bad, it just makes us human. The responsibility is on us however, to stand up for how great our society can be. Achdut and Ahavat Yisrael are not reasons to shy away from being self-critical as a nation, they are reasons to embrace being self-critical. In Sefer Devarim the responsibility of the individual is emphasized due to the physical remoteness of the Judicial system; In our times, we don’t even have a proper Judicial system to be distant from[2]. Our Ahavat Yisrael, our sense of national unity, should motivate us to try and drive the Nation of Israel to new heights of morality, not to withhold our critiques. We are our brothers’ keepers, and we all bear a responsibility for the nation. Simultaneously, any self-critiques of the Nation of Israel must be motivated by a sense of unity and love. We are our brother’s keeper exactly because they are our brothers. Driving Bnei Yisrael to be the best can be is a communal act of love. The prophets were perhaps the best example of an authority attempting to improve the moral nature of Israel and, on the whole, they failed dramatically. Despite the public recriminations of the prophets, Bnei Yisrael did not repent. Top-down enforcement has never effected great change in Israel; It is average people creating a moral atmosphere in their daily lives that awakens the heart of the nation. If we want to truly be a Kingdom of Priests and a Holy Nation (Shemot 19:6), we have to do our part to make sure that the nation lives up to the moral and legal requirements of ‘א’s Covenant.

 

[1] Notably, when the judges and officers are appointed (16:18-20) in this context, the reason given for avoiding bribery is that it corrupts the wise and the sagely, as opposed to at the beginning of Sefer Devarim where the reason is that Justice belongs to ‘א, and so to corrupt it is to corrupt that which is His (1:17).

[2] This is in terms of a Bet Din system, of which we have a facsimile today, but we lack authentic judicial leadership. Secular courts are a separate issue.

Paul Tillich, The Dynamics of Faith – On the Divine-Demonic Nature of the Holy

The mysterious character of the holy produces an ambiguity in man’s ways of experiencing it. The holy can appear as destructive and creative. Its fascinating element can be both creative and destructive (referring again to the fascinating character of nationalistic idolatry), and the terrifying and consuming element can be destructive and creative. This ambiguity, of which we still find traces in the Old Testament, is reflected in the ritual or quasi-ritual activities of religions and quasi-religions (sacrifices of others or one’s bodily or mental self) which are strongly ambiguous. One can call this ambiguity divine-demonic, whereby the divine is characterized by the victory of the creative over the destructive power of the holy, and the demonic is characterized by the victory of the destructive over the creative possibility of the holy. In this situation, which is most profoundly understood in the prophetic religion of the Old Testament, a fight has been waged against the demonic-destructive element in the holy. And this fight was so successful that the concept of the holy was changed. Holiness becomes justice and truth. It is creative and not destructive. the true sacrifice is obedience to the law. This is the line of thought which finally led to the identification of holiness with moral perfection. But when this point is reached, holiness loses its meaning as the “separated,” the “transcending,” the “fascinating and terrifying,” the “entirely other.” All this is gone, and the holy has become the morally good and logically trueIt has ceased to be the holy in the genuine sense of the word. Summing up this development, one could say that the holy originally lies below the alternative of the good and the evil; that it is both divine and demonic; that with the reduction of the demonic possibility the holy itself becomes transformed in its meaning; that it becomes rational and identical with the true and the good; and that its genuine meaning must be rediscovered.

Parashat Re’eh – On being a Redeemed Slave and a Redeeming Master

עֶבֶד הָיִיתָ בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם וַיִּפְדְּךָ יְ׳הוָה אֱ׳לֹהֶיךָ

 

Parashat Re’eh begins Sefer Devarim’s legal code in earnest. It begins with the requirements regarding emptying the Land of Israel of Idolatry, and ensuring that it stays emptied in chapters 12 and 13. Chapter 14 discusses what foods may or may not be eaten by Bnei Yisrael, and chapter 15 contains the laws regarding providing for the poor of the Israelite society. These laws, perhaps the most emphatic legislation of social justice in the entire Torah, contain one of the many apparent legal contradictions between Sefer Devarim and other books of the Torah. The laws governing the freeing of a slave, found in Devarim 15:12-18, are also found in Shemot 21:2-11. However, a closer look at the differences between the two passages demonstrates that they really need not be thought of as contradicting[1], and, in fact, their differences are a manifestation on the way the two pericopes focus on different aspects of what it means to be human.

The laws regarding Freeing a Slave in Sefer Shemot are found at the beginning of the Covenant Code, “ספר הברית,” that Moshe presents to the people after his first stay on Har Sinai (Code – Shemot 21-23; Presentation – 24:1-11).

If you buy a Hebrew servant, he shall serve for six years and in the seventh he shall go out free for nothing. If he came in [to slavery] by himself, he shall go out by himself; if he is married, then his wife shall go out with him. If his master gave him a wife, and she bore him sons or daughters; the wife and her children shall be the master’s, and he shall go out by himself. But if the servant shall plainly say: I love my master, my wife, and my children; I will not go out free; then his master shall bring him to the judge, and shall bring him to the door, or to the door-post; and his master shall bore through his ear with an awl, and he shall serve him for ever. And if a man sold his daughter to be a maid-servant, she shall not go out as the men-servants do. If she is not pleasing to her master, who has designated her for himself, then he shall let her be redeemed; he shall have no power to sell her to a foreign people, since he has dealt deceitfully with her. And if he designates her for his son, he shall deal with her after the manner of daughters. If he takes another wife, her food, her raiment, and her conjugal rights, he shall not diminish. And if he does not provide these three for her, then shall she go out for nothing, without money.

These laws are largely similar to those found in Devarim 15 that are part of the legal framework of the Israelite society that will be created in the Land of Israel.

If your brother, a Hebrew man, or a Hebrew woman, is sold to you, he shall serve you for six years; and in the seventh year you shall send him free from you. And when you send him free from you, you shall not send him empty; you shall furnish him liberally from your flock, and from your threshing-floor, and from your winepress; From that with which the Lord your God has blessed you shall you give to him. And you shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God redeemed you; therefore I command you this thing today. And it shall be, if he says to you: ‘I will not go out from you’; because he loves you and your house, because he fares well with you; then you shall take an awl, and thrust it through his ear and into the door, and he shall be your slave for ever. And also to your slave-woman you shall do likewise. It shall not seem hard to you, when you send him free from you; for double the work of a worker has he served you six years; and the Lord your God will bless you in all that you do.

There are many similarities between these two passages, but there are also several key differences. The verses in Devarim fail to mention that the slave who enters single leaves single, and one who enters married leaves married, but it adds the mitzvah to provide your former slave with produce and livestock in order to help him get back on his feet. The passage in Devarim treats male and female slaves the same, while the passage in Shemot explicitly differentiates between them[2]. The slave in Shemot wants to stay with his master because he loves his master, his wife, and his children, whereas in Devarim the slave loves his master and his master’s house.

These differences are all manifestations of a larger dichotomy, which becomes clearer when looking at a linguistic difference between the two pericopes. The verses from Shemot consistently refer to the slave leaving with the master as the slave “going out,” while the passage from Devarim refers to it as the master “sending the slave free.” The passage in Devarim seems to be focusing on the actions of the master, where the verses in Shemot are speaking about the actions of the slave. This dichotomy is compounded by the way in which the master is spoken about in each passage. Whereas in Shemot the master is referred to as “the master,” in Devarim the master is addressed directly as “you.” This all seems to indicate that the passage in Devarim is discussing the laws in terms of the master, whereas the one is Shemot is speaking of the perspective of the slave. With this in mind, the differences between the two sets of laws make perfect sense. The slave’s marital status and the special marriage/servitude of the slave-woman are only spoken of in Shemot, which deals with the slave’s perspective, while Sefer Devarim focuses on the need to release the slave at the end of six years and to grant the slave property, obligations that are incumbent upon the master. The split between the two books of the Torah also makes sense, in that the Covenant Code was addressed to people who had only recently been slaves in Egypt, whereas Moshe’s speeches in Sefer Devarim were said to their children who not only had never been slaves, but were about to go into the land as new owners of houses, fields, and presumably servants as well. The laws of regarding the freeing of slaves are spoken to both former slaves and future masters, and both of these are alluded to in the reason that the Torah gives for the laws. “And you shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God redeemed you; therefore I command you this thing today” (Devarim 15:15). These laws must be kept because the Israelites were slaves in Egypt, and so they remember what it is like to be a slave, but also because ‘א is the Redeemer and the Israelites, in imitation of ‘א must also be redeemers.

The tension between the mindsets of a slave and a master is ingrained in the Israelite consciousness. The freedom granted to slaves in the Yovel year is ultimately a function of servitude, as ‘א declares, “For Bnei Yisrael are to me as servants; they are my servants that I took out of the Land of Egypt” (Vayikra 25:5). Yet being a master, owning slaves, throughout the Torah, brings upon a person many laws obligating them in the way they must provide for and take care of the slave. A person who acquires a slave has acquired for themselves a master[3]. This tension is part of a greater set of tensions that make up what it means to be human. Perhaps the primary tension, underlying all of the rest, is found in the first chapter of the Torah. Man is an anomaly the orderly process of Creation, the only created thing that resembles the Creator (Bereishit 1:27). The tension between the created and the creator in Man underlies much of the stories throughout Tanakh[4], but also in the laws of the Torah. The commandment to rest on Shabbat is given two different reasons in the Torah. Bnei Yisrael must rest on Shabbat because they are like ‘א (Shemot 20:7-10), who rested on Shabbat, but also because they are like the rest of the created (Devarim 5:11-14), all of whom must rest equally.

We are complex beings, neither masters of our own domain nor slaves, without a hand in the course of history. Not quite created or creator, we are unique. However, this uniqueness is not a reason for us to sit back and rest on our heels. No part of the complex mosaic that is man provides an exemption from responsibility.  Having been slaves does not entitle the Israelites to mistreat others, and being endowed with Creator-hood, far from granting us privileges, enjoins us to rest from the act of creating. Whether we are created to conquer and to dominate (Bereishit 1:28) or to serve and to protect (Bereishit 2:15), it is clear that we are created to be responsible, both to our Creator and to our fellow creatures.

 

[1] I am indebted for much of the textual analysis in this composition to an essay by Rav Yonatan Grossman.

[2] Rashi actually explicitly deals with these contradictions in his commentary on Devarim 15:12, “Has the Torah not already stated ‘and when you buy a Hebrew servant’ Rather, the repetition here adds two new details. Firstly, that the female servant also goes forth after six years, and secondly, that the parting servant is to be provided with gifts.”

[3] Talmud Bavli, Masekhet Kiddushin, 20a.

[4] The story of the first transgression of Man in Bereishit 3 is a great example, as it is explicitly mentioned in Bereishit 3:5&22.

Parashat Ekev – Gifts of the Fathers, Responsibility of the Sons

כִּי הוּא הַנֹּתֵן לְךָ כֹּחַ לַעֲשׂוֹת חָיִל

 

Parashat Ekev includes Moshe’s retelling of the Sin of the Golden Calf from Shemot 32 (Devarim 9:6-29), with slight differences[1]. One significant difference is that in Devarim 9 the story ends with Moshe’s pleading with ‘א to spare the people as opposed to it appearing in the middle. More significantly, however, is the new theme of the story, repeated at the beginning and the end. The story opens in verse 6, “Know therefore that it is not for your righteousness that the Lord your God gives you this good land to possess it; for you are a stiff-necked people.” Then in verse 24 this is stated even more intensely. “You have been rebellious against the Lord from the day that I knew you.” Despite the hyperbole involved here, there’s a very clear statement being made about just how terrible Bnei Yisrael have been. Starting just after they leave Egypt (Shemot 16), continuing all the way through Sefer Bamidbar, the narratives of Bnei Yisrael’s time in the desert read largely like a record of rebellions. It is a theme throughout Sefer Devarim (8:18, for example) that Bnei Yisrael are not worthy to inherit the land of their own right and instead are saved by god’s promise to their fathers. That the people receive the land on the merit of their fathers, not only not earning it but being distinctly undeserving of it, would seem at first to represent a jarring imbalance. However, it is this imbalance that creates the onus of many of the laws of Sefer Devarim.

The laws of Sefer Devarim are all intended quite specifically for the people in the land, and as part of that the Torah goes out of its way to describe the land, as in Devarim 8:7-10.

(1) For the Lord your God is bringing you to a good land,

(2) a land of rivers, of pools and depths, springing forth in valleys and hills;

(3) a land of wheat and barley, and vines and fig-trees and pomegranates;

(4) a land of olive oil and honey;

(5) a land wherein you shall eat bread without scarcity, you shalt not lack any thing in it;

(6) a land whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills thou mayest dig brass.

(7) And thou shalt eat and be satisfied, and bless the Lord your God for the good land which He has given you.

These verses break up quite clearly into 7 statement forming a chiastic structure, meaning that 1&7 are parallel, 2&6 are parallel, etc. However, the second of each pair of parallel lines also builds on the first in some way. 1&7 are both talking about the good land that ‘א is giving the people, but in 1, before the land is praised, it is called “A good land,” as opposed to “THE good land.” 2&6 both talk about the physical land, and mention the hills specifically, but where 2 simply mentions the water-filled nature of the land, setting up the agricultural verses to follow, 6 mentions the iron and brass that the people will use to build, develop, and defend the land. 3&5 both discuss the various food items that will be grown in the land, but 5 talks about bread that will be made form the wheat and barley of 3. 4 stands out as not having a pair. However, upon closer examination, it is its own pair. The olives and dates mentioned in 4 are part of the list of the seven types of produce of the Land of Israel that began in 3, and so they are part of the first half of the unit. But they also are listed not as the fruits themselves but as the products the people will make from them, and thus they are part of the second half. This structure emphasizes that what makes the Land of Israel truly THE good land is not just the richness of its resources, but that which the people can do with them.

However, the potential for good that exists in the land is accompanied by a potential for bad, as depicted in 8:11-14.

(1) Guard yourself lest you forget the Lord your God, in not keeping His commandments, and His ordinances, and His statutes, which I command you this day;

(2) lest when you have eaten and are satisfied

(3) and have built good houses, and dwelt in them;

(4) and when your herds and your flocks multiply,

(5) and your silver and your gold is multiplied,

(6) and all that you have is multiplied;

(7) then your heart will be haughty, and you will forget the Lord your God, who brought you forth out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.

While sharing a similar structure to the above unit, the great importance of this unit is in the slow progression from 2-7. 2 speaks of the consumption of the produce of the land mentioned in the first unit, then 3 speaks of houses anchored on the land, and 4 of the livestock that roam across it, until the wealth of 6 and 7 is totally disconnected from the good land that ‘א has given them. This is predicted by the way this second unit uses the phrase “eaten and are satisfied” that is found at the end of the first unit, but without the crucial continuation, “and bless the Lord your God.” Instead of realizing the responsibility inherent in the land

Undeserving of the Land, the people receive it as a gift from ‘א. They can do great good with the land, but only if they are conscious of the fact that it comes with a responsibility. To that end they are charged to ensure that they do not forget that the land is a gift from ‘א, and that all the wealth they derive from it, the civilization they develop across it, are all built upon a gift from ‘א.

And you will say in your heart: ‘My power and the might of my hand has made for me this wealth.’ But you shall remember the Lord your God, for He is the one that gives you the power to get wealth, that He may establish His covenant which He swore unto thy fathers, as it is this day. (Devarim 8:17-18)

The danger of  forgetting that you have built your wealth upon a gift from a ‘א lies in assuming that you are the one responsible, and that you are responsible to no one.

Things occur to us everyday for which we can claim no responsibility. We stumble into fortune and we chance upon bad luck, and we build our lives on these. Moreover, we do not choose the circumstances of our birth. Instead we are handed our lot simply by virtue of the parents to whom we are born. And it is upon this lot that we are responsible for building our lives. It is important for us to remember that the fact of our receiving is not an invitation to do whatever we desire, but a challenge to stand up and take responsibility. We are to remember in our daily lives that what we achieve is only accomplished through the tools that ‘א provides us with. He has given us greatness, but it is upon us to remember that it is his greatness that we are working with. We can perform great acts, but it is ‘א that enables us to do so.

[1] I am indebted for many of the ideas in this composition to In Praise of the Land, by Rav Elchanan Samet.

No Fear Biblical Criticism – Part 4: Axioms and Subjectivity

No Fear Biblical Criticism – Part 4

Axioms and Subjectivity

(For those just joining us, here are Parts One, Two, and Three)

Perhaps the most important thing to understand about the intersection of Biblical Criticism and religious thought is that they have fundamentally different ways of thinking about and approaching the Tanakh. This isn’t a matter of proofs or faith, simply of axioms. An axiom is a starting point for a line of reasoning, one that is not proven, but simply accepted. Most axioms are understood to be self-evident, but that does not have to be the case. Sometimes, an axiom that some find to be self-evident can be disagreed with by others, without either side actually being able to prove their axiom more correct. Such is the case when it comes to Biblical Criticism, as I will attempt to demonstrate in brief.

The first and most important axiom to appreciate regarding Biblical Criticism is the Non-Existence of Prophecy[1]. This is in direct contrast to the basic assumption of most religions, certainly of Orthodox Judaism, that ‘א communicates His Will to man. This is important to realize because it enables proper understanding of things like the Documentary Hypothesis. The Documentary Hypothesis was never meant to prove that the Torah is not Divine. Rather it started with that assumption, with the knowledge that the text was human, and based its approach on that. It is true that Source Critics at no point ran into anything that made them stop and consider that the text might be Divine, but that was also never really an option. Orthodox Jews, on the other hand, tend to start with the belief that the Torah is Divine, or at least that such a thing is possible. Therefore when looking at the text Bible Critics and Orthodox Jews are more or less guaranteed to see different things, simply due to their underlying assumptions.

A second important axiomatic difference to appreciate is the understanding of Context[2]. Everyone agrees that ideas must be understood in their proper contexts, including Tanakh. However, the Academic and Traditional[3] approaches to the text differ in terms of what context they put the Tanakh in. The academic approach understands all things in terms of their Historical context. Israelite society and the Tanakh are put in terms of other Ancient Near Eastern civilizations and their literatures, both sacred and secular[4]. Such comparisons can be both helpful and misleading (This will be discussed further in a later segment on Archaeology and Patternism). The traditional approach sees Tanakh, and all of our sacred texts, in light of the Jewish Tradition. This is most obviously true in terms of Halakhah, which gets decided based on the various texts of the Jewish Tradition, but it is also true for Tanakh. Even where they are not decisive, midrashim and later commentaries are taken into account by the Traditional scholar when reading Tanakh[5].  Thus the traditional scholar and the academic will see the text of Tanakh in very different lights.

Having said that, it’s worth taking a look at the historical context of Biblical Criticism, at least at its origins. Biblical Criticism, and the Documentary Hypothesis in particular, sprouted up in the latter half of the 19th century[6]. This had a lot of ramification in terms of the way Critics treated Tanakh like other literature of the time, without proper understanding of Israelite Society, but its greatest effects on Biblical Criticism came from the Scientific and Religious atmospheres of the time.

The triumphs of evolutionism in natural science have made it a hallmark of intellectual modernity. Over against the essentially medieval unconcern (and unawareness) of history, so characteristic of theological exegesis, current critical exegesis opposes its perspective, developmental view of the text as its chief qualification for intellectual respectability in our time. Hence any proposal of literary development is better than none–better in that it demonstrates sophistication, that is, advance beyond medieval dogmatic prejudices and naiveté. (M. Greenberg, The Vision of Jerusalem in Ezekiel 8-11, pg.147-8)

Once science discovered the idea that nature and life had evolved over time, that idea spread like wildfire through the consciousness of the time, pervading all discussions. Everything had to have developed over time. In many, many, arenas this proved to be an excellent method, but it’s important to note that, as opposed to in the natural sciences, it was something external that was imposed onto whatever was studied, rather than something internal discovered through study. When it come to the text of Tanakh, some minor development over time is self-evident, letters and words and the like[7], but there is no obvious and self-evident evidence of a slow and steady evolution from a core text, or texts, to what we have today.

A second need for the historical-analogic method arises from the situation of the Christian faith community which is its matrix. First, that community must justify its retention of the Old Testament alongside the New, and does so by showing that light is shed upon the New by viewing the Old as a series of steps leading up to it. The more fully this can be worked out, the greater the value set on the Old Testament. Second (though less articulated), that community, though buffeted by change and modernity, affirms the validity of its ancient Scripture in the present. This affirmation is accomplished by showing that the biblical text itself incorporates a record of reinterpretation, adjustment to change and supplementation by later hands. Given the community’s overriding need for validating constant reinterpretation, any proposal that roots that process in the biblical text itself will have bias in its favor. (Ibid, pg.148)

Ironically, much of the challenge to Divine Unity of the Torah came not from secularist but from religious individuals. Julius Wellhausen, father of the Documentary Hypothesis, was a Professor of Theology who retired upon realizing that instead of preparing his students to join the clergy he was disqualifying them from that role[8]. Christianity needed Tanakh to have developed over time and to have been subject to constant reinterpretation, something Source Criticism confirmed with gusto. Thus the Documentary Hypothesis was accepted much more readily than it would have been otherwise. Thankfully, Biblical Criticism has moved away from these harmful mindsets, particularly with the rise of both Literary Criticism and the number of Jewish Academic Scholars in the second half of the 20th century.

At this point it’s worth taking a minute to point out something that has plagued Biblical Criticism from the start, namely, Subjectivity. Biblical Criticism is by its very nature an incredibly subjective field.

The book of Micah itself structurally alternates three prophecies of doom with three prophecies of restoration or hope…These restoration passages may seem a little out of keeping or out of step with the scathing denunciations or condemnations of Judah in the other parts of Micah’s prophecy, and so some scholars have suggested that…these must be interpolations by a later editor…But this is always a very difficult case or issue, because we know that the prophetic writings do fluctuate wildly between denunciation and consolation. So I think that a shift in theme alone is not ever a certain basis for assuming interpolation — outright contradiction perhaps — but a shift in theme or tone is never a solid basis for assuming interpolation. (Prof. Christine Hayes, from the transcript of Lecture 18 of the Yale Open University’s RLST 145: INTRODUCTION TO THE OLD TESTAMENT)

All textual analysis, regardless of what the text is or who is reading it, suffers from the subjectivity of the interpreter. It’s unavoidable. However, it is particularly prevalent in Biblical Criticism where so little is known about the historical nature of the text under discussion, and so any conception of what it “should look like” originally has to be incredibly speculative. This does not mean that all or any of Bible Critics’ conclusion are necessarily wrong, but it does indicate that we should look at their conclusions with a healthy degree of skepticism.

(The rest of this series is being hosted at dafaleph.com. Onward to Part Five.)

 

[1] For more on this, see this excellent lecture by Rabbi Jeremy Wieder.

[2] An excellent discussion of this idea by Rav Natan Slifkin can be found here.

[3] I switch here from the terms “Religious” and “Orthodox” that I have been using to the term “Traditional” as this is one area where even the religious may often make use of the Academic approach.

[4] This simple point is often missed by Rabbis who ridicule Biblical Criticism for not taking Midrashim into account. For one such example, see here.

[5] For more on this, see Rabbi Hayyim Angel’s lecture on contradictions between laws from Sefer Devarim and narratives from later in Tanakh, downloadable here. Pay particular attention to his discussion of “Halakhic Man” vs. “Tanakhic Man”.

[6] The ideas in this paragraph come a fuller and truly excellent discussion by Moshe Greenberg at the beginning of this article.

[7] For more on this, see our discussion of Lower Criticism, here.

[8] From his letter of resignation (quotation available here), cited in Robert J. Oden Jr.,”The Bible Without Theology”, Harper and Row, 1987.

No Fear Biblical Criticism – Part 3: Lower Criticism and Textual Emendations

No Fear Biblical Criticism – Part 3

Lower Criticism and Textual Emendations

(If you’re just joining the series, here is Part 1 and Part 2

Lower Criticism is the study of the various texts of Tanakh in order to determine how the text has changed over time (as opposed to Higher Criticism which is concerned with determining who wrote the Torah and the like). This is done by comparing the text that Jews use today[1], referred to as the Masoretic Text, with the Dead Sea Scrolls[2], the Septuagint[3], the Vulgate[4], the Peshitta[5], the Torah of the Samaritans[6], the Aramaic Targumim[7], and the quotations from the Talmud. Comparison of these texts reveals words or letters that differ between the texts, presumably due to change over time. Based on this, some Biblical Critics have attempted to sift through the different versions and correct the Masoretic Text that we use today, or even to find the original texts of the Torah and the rest of Tanakh.

Most of the texts that are compared to our Torah text are translations, and thus comparison requires first translating the texts back into Hebrew, and then comparing them. At this point the texts have been translated twice, so the accuracy of the text suffers somewhat, but not beyond usefulness. While these texts have not revealed extreme differences such as differing conceptions of god or the like, there are differences[8]. While these could present a difficulty for an Orthodox Jew, they could also be dismissed as a function of translation errors, or as intentional mistranslations on the part of sectarians; i.e., perhaps the Qumran sects intentionally changed their Torah to fit their own views. What presents more difficulty is the differences between the Tanakh text as we have it today, and the way Tanakh is quoted in the Talmud.

There are often differences in the quotations from Tanakh that the Talmud uses, and the text of Tanakh that we have it today. The first thing to note about this is that not every one of these differences indicates that the sages of the Talmud had a different text than we do. It’s also possible that somewhere in the years since the compilation of the Talmud, scribal errors were made in its transmission, and so what looks like a misquotation of Tanakh is actually a mistake in the text of our Talmud[9]. However, there are cases where it is clear from the discussion of the Talmud that the original quotations was in fact different from our text today.

The problem this presents for Orthodoxy is that most Orthodox Jews ascribe to Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles of Faith, thirteen statements of belief that a Jew must affirm. The Eight Principle is that the Torah that we have today is exactly the same as the Torah that was given to Moshe[24]. According to this, to admit to even slight changes between our texts today and those of the time of the Gemara, let alone before that, would be heresy. Thus we are presented with a contradiction between the words of Rambam, and the contradictions that we see before our own eyes. However, salvation from this conundrum may be found if we extend our view beyond Rambam, to the other sages of the Jewish Tradition[10].

Rambam’s Eighth Principle expresses a very simple view of the text of the Torah[11], which is problematic not only in terms of the texts as know they existed, but also in terms of other Jewish opinions held by other great sages. One contradiction of the type mentioned above is found in Masekhet Shabbat on page 55b. Tosafot comments there (s.v. ma’avirim ktiv) and, instead of denying or brushing aside the contradiction, states, “הש״ס שלנו חולק על הספרים שלנו,” “Our Talmud argues on [read: contradicts] our Books [of Tanakh].” Rabbi Akiva Eiger comments there and, in possibly his largest comment in all of the Talmud, he brings the locations of every place in the Gemara where a quotation of Tanakh contradicts our text today. The Rashba, in discussion of the various cases where our Talmud contradicts our Tanakh, suggests that there are times when it might be appropriate to actually amend our Torah text in order to match the quotations of the Gemara[12]. The Chatam Sofer, by no means a liberal voice in the Jewish tradition, actually gives these contradictions as the reason why we do not make a berakhah when performing the mitzvah of writing a Sefer Torah[13]. These are only a few of the voices in the Jewish tradition that readily affirm the differences between the Talmud’s quotations of Tanakh and the Tanakh as we have it today.

However, there are also sources, from before Rambam, that suggest such changes had occurred to the text of Tanakh. The gemara in Masekhet Kiddushin, page 30a, discusses the possibility of determining the exact midpoint of the Torah, and concludes that it cannot be done because, by the time that they were having the discussion, they had already forgotten the correct spellings of many of the words[14]. There is also a midrash regarding the Torah that was used upon the return of Ezra HaSofer to Israel.

Three books they found in the Temple court, the book ‘מעונ, the book זעטוטי, and the book היא. In the one they found written קדם א׳לוהי מעון and in the two they found written מעונה (Deut. 33: 27), and they upheld the two and set aside the one. In the one they found written ישראל בני זעטוטי את וישלח and in the two they found written וישלח את נערי בני ישראל  (Exodus 24:5) and they upheld the two and set aside the one. In the one they found written nine times היא, and in the two they found written eleven times היא ,and they upheld the two and set aside the one[15]. (Jerusalem Talmud, Masekhet Ta’anit 4: 2)

This midrash states that the text of Ezra’s Torah was actually composed by going with two out of three torah scrolls on every occurrence of debate between them. While this is both logical and in accord with the halakhic principle of following the majority, the likelihood of our that Torah, let alone our text today, being exactly what Moshe gave to Bnei Yisrael in the desert drops dramatically with each contradiction.

While these sources discussed forced or accidental changes, there are sources that discuss the possibility that the text of the Torah was intentionally changed. Rashi makes a powerful statement on this matter in regard to the odd phrasing of a verse in Bereishit (18:22).

and Abraham was still standing, etc.: But is it not so that he did not go to stand before Him, but the Holy One, blessed be He, came to him and said to him (above verse 20): “Because the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah has become great, etc.,” and it should have been written here: “and the Lord was still standing beside Abraham?” But this is a scribal emendation (that they [the scribes] switched it to be written like that) (Gen. Rabbah 49:7).

Rashi is saying that in order to demonstrate proper reverence to ‘א the scribes changed the text of the Torah. Moreover, this is not a local incident, as he uses this explanation in a variety of places throughout Tanakh[16]. An even bolder midrashic formulation, in a discussion of certain words throughout Tanakh that have dots above them, attributes words throughout the text to the authorship of Ezra.

Wherefore are the dots? Thus said Ezra: “If Elijah will come and say, why have you written these words? I shall say unto him: I have already put dots over them. And if he will say, thou has written well, I shall remove the dots over them.[17] (Bamidbar Rabbah 3:14, Avot de-Rabbi Nathan 34:5)

This midrash is saying that Ezra added these words to Tanakh, even though he was not 100% certain they belonged there. Therefore he put dots over the words in order to make it obvious that they were his additions, and that way they could be removed if Eliyahu HaNavi determined them to be out of place. Thus the midrash is suggesting that before the Gemara, before even the Dead Sea Scrolls of the Second Temple Period, Ezra had changed the text of the Torah.

Rambam’s Eight Principle flies in the face of all of these sources[18], and the evidence we see with our own eyes. It is hard to state with confidence that we possess the exact same text, letter for letter, that Moshe had. an interesting approach to this difficulty was taken by the Seridei Eish, Rav Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg.

Rambam knew very well that there variations existed when he defined his Principles. The words of Ani Ma’amin and the words of the Rambam, “The entire Torah in our possession today,” must not betaken literally, implying that all the letters of the present Torah are the exact letters given to Moshe Rabbeinu. Rather, it should be understood in a general sense that the Torah we learn and live by is for all intents and purposes the same Torah that was given to Moshe Rabbeinu. (Fundamentals and Faith, 90-91)

While this was not Rambam’s intent in writing his Eight Principle, it does provide a more workable model for someone confronted with all of this evidence and source material. Rather than burying our heads in the sand and pretending that the Torah has never changed, we should simply appreciate that there has been no truly significant changes [19], and that the Torah is for all intents and purposes the same as it was when Moshe gave it to Bnei Yisrael.

This brings us to the discussion of textual emendations. While Lower Criticism is a field of study in and of itself, it also has ramifications for the interpretation of Tanakh. Critical Scholars often switch or remove words and letters that seem to them to be incorrect in order to create a text that reads more correctly to them. The Orthodox Tanakh Scholar Shemuel David Luzzato also used such critical methods in his commentary on the Torah. However, both this approach to textual interpretation and the attempt to find the “original text of the Tanakh” have received critiques from within Biblical Criticism. In a study of a passage from Sefer Yehezkal, Moshe Greenberg argues that, regardless of which versions may be original, changing the Masoretic Text based on other versions often ignores and obliterates the brilliance of the text[20]. Critics often perceive “textual flaws” and instead of looking for a deeper reason for the text to be written that way, simply change it to a reading they find more fitting. Greenberg argues that perceived defects in the text of Tanakh should be a springboard for a deeper investigation, as they often point the way to discovering the masterful artistry of Tanakh. Meir Weiss argues similarly that most textual emendations are enacted based on faulty understanding of the text[21]. He says that most critics simply do not know enough about what the text should look like, and work off faulty assumptions about the nature of Biblical Poetry and Narrative. Greenberg also argues against the idea that scholars could determine the “original texts” of Tanakh, not because of the difficulty of the task, but because there is no such thing[22]. He argues that at any point at which there was a fully developed text of a book of Tanakh, there was multiple versions. He does make a caveat that the text of the Torah itself seems to have been concretized pretty early, but he still maintains that there were multiple versions. This final argument of Greenberg is complex from an Orthodox perspective. It contradicts the idea that the Torah was given by ‘א at Sinai, but not incredibly. It makes a similar statement regarding the books of Nevi’im and Ketuvim, but there is no principle of Faith in any part of Judaism that requires one to believe in the giving of a book of Nakh all together at one time. Jeremiah 36:2 in fact suggests otherwise.

Take you a scroll of a book, and write therein all the words that I have spoken to you against Israel, and against Judah, and against all the nations, from the day I spoke that to you, from the days of Josiah, even to this day.

Sefer Yirmiyahu seems to have been written more than once, at various stages of its development. Similarly the Gemara suggests that Sefer Shemuel was written in parts by Shemuel HaNavi, Gad HaChozeh, and Natan the Prophet, and then all those were compiled to make Sefer Shemuel as we know it today[23]. We have a lot more flexibility in terms of how we understand the books of Nakh than we do in terms of how we understand the Torah.

Lower Criticism can tell us a lot about the nature of the text of Tanakh, but it cannot tell use what this information means. What this means in terms of the text of Tanakh is up to us. We can either hold tight to a strict interpretation of Rambam’s Eighth Principle, or we can accept the true nature of the text, and embrace the sages and sources that understood Tanakh in this manner.

(Onward to Part 4) 

[1] The oldest version of our text that exists today is known as the Aleppo Codex, written in the 10th century, and was used by Rambam as the basis for his Hilkhot Sefer Torah. For more, see here.

[2] Tanakh texts from the Second Temple Period found hidden in caves in the Israeli desert area of Qumran, by the Dead Sea, thought to be written by jews of varying sects and then hidden from the Romans. For more, see here.

[3] An early Greek translation discussed in Masekhet Megillah 9a-b. Of the fifteen deliberate mis-translations recorded there, only 2 are found in the Septuagint as we have it today. For more, see here.

[4] An 4th-century Latin translation used by the Catholic Church. For more, see here.

[5] An early Syriac translation that is likely from the second century. For more, see here.

[6] The Samaritans were brought to Israel and settled in Samaria during the First Temple Period. They have their own traditions and a Torah that are similar to that of Rabbinic Judaism. For more, see here.

[7] The most famous of these Aramaic translations are the Targum Onkelos on the Torah and the Targum Yonatan on Nevi’im and Ketuvim. For more, see here.

[8] Kaiser, Walter (2001). The Old Testament Documents: Are They Reliable & Relevant?. InterVarsity Press. p. 48.

[9] For more on this, see this shiur by Rabbi Jeremy Wieder, Rosh Yeshiva of YU.

[10] I am indebted for many of the sources that follow to Marc Shapiro’s “The Limits of Orthodox Theology: Maimonides Principles Reappraised”. These sources and others can be found in the article that was later expanded into the book, which can be found here, pages 10-21.

[11] It is important to note that this principle is only referring to the Five Books of Moshe, not to all of Tanakh.

[12] She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rashba ha-Meyuhasot le-Ramban (Warsaw, 1883), #232. See also Meiri to Kiddushin 30a, Kiryat Sefer, 57-58, and She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Radbaz; #1020

[13] She’elot u-Teshuvot Hatam Sofer, Orah Hayyim, #52

[14] The form of spelling mistakes under discussion are what is called in Hebrew “מלא וחסר,” “plene and defective” in English. This is the spelling of words with or without extra letters that neither make a sound nor affect the meaning, rather they simply denote that sound is made by the vowel on that syllable.

[15] Translation from Marc Shapiro, Op Cit. This midrash is also found in Sifre Piska 356., Masekhet Soferim 6:4, and Avot D’Rabbi Natan, Ed. S. Schechter, (Vienna, 1887), Recension B, chapter 46, p. 65a;

[16] See Note 140 in the article by Marc Shapiro cited above in note 10. It seems that this is not necessarily the correct interpretation of the midrashic phrase “תיקון סופרים,” “Emendation of the Scribes,” but it is how Rashi understood it. For more on the proper interpretation, see this article by Avrohom Lieberman.

[17] Translation from Marc Shapiro, Op Cit.

[18] This is without even going into the discussion of the last eight verses of the Torah, a view from the Gemara that Rambam would have qualified as heresy.

[19] The only real ramifications are for the midrashic approach where every letter is of the utmost significance, which is beyond the scope of this discussion. Two quick points that should be mentioned: 1. This approach is not to be considered totally unusable, but it does have to be understood in light of this whole discussion. 2. There has always been a second midrashic school which did not place ultimate value on each letter.

[20] Greenberg’s article can be found here.

[21] The Bible From Within: The Total Interpretation Method, pp.

[22] Greenberg, Op Cit.

[23] Masekhet Baba Batra, 15a

[24] For a rather different, and not mainstream, understanding of Rambam’s Eight Principle that does not contradict the evidence, see here.