The Fifth Amendment of the Constitution of the United States forbids trying a person again for the same crime after he has already been acquitted (or convicted), a situation known as “double jeopardy.” This constitutional guarantee derives from English common law and from the Magna Carta. A similar provision exists also in Jewish law, a provision that the Talmud derives from a verse in the Torah, in the portion of Mishpatim.
The Torah says, “Keep distant from falsehood; do not execute the blameless or the innocent, for I will not acquit the wicked” (Exodus 23:7). Regarding this verse, the Talmud comments: after a person is convicted, if someone brings exonerating evidence, how do we know that the case must be re-tried? Because it says, “Do not execute the blameless.” And how do we know that if a person is found innocent, but subsequently someone brings evidence of guilt, we do not re-try the case? Because the Torah says, “Do not execute . . . the innocent” – that is, someone whom the court has declared innocent.
But, you may object, in the latter case we are letting a guilty person go free. Isn’t that a miscarriage of justice? In answer to this objection, Rashi, in his commentary on the Torah, points to the conclusion of the above verse: “for I will not acquit the wicked.” Although the court has acquitted the culprit, God does not acquit him, and God will execute the judgement that he deserves.
© Copyright 2012 by Ben Roshgolin. All rights reserved.
References:
Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 33b.
Rashi on Exodus 23:7.
Moses Maimonides, Mishne Torah, Hilkhot Sanhedrin 10:9.
14 February 2012
22 January 2012
Thoughts on Bo: A Clash of Deities
Early in the portion of Bo, Moses and Aaron stand before Pharaoh and threaten him with a plague of locusts of a magnitude such as Egypt has never seen before. As Moses and Aaron exit, Pharaoh’s subjects ask their king to reconsider and allow the Israelite men to leave and worship their God, saying, “Do you not yet know that Egypt is lost?”
Moses and Aaron are recalled, and Pharaoh says, “Go and worship YHVH your God.” But when Pharaoh then asks who will be going, Moses answers, “With our young and our old we will go; with our sons and our daughters, with our sheep and our cattle we will go, for it is YHVH’s pilgrimage festival for us.” And to this statement, Pharaoh replies with apparent sarcastm (Exodus 10:10): “Then may YHVH be with you, just as I will send you forth with your children; see that Ra’a (evil) is before your faces!”
What is the meaning of this cryptic reply? Specifically, what is this Ra’a that Pharaoh says will confront the Israelites. The commentators and translators all struggle with Pharaoh’s intention. According to the Aramaic translation of Onkelos (as interpreted by Ramban), Pharaoh’s meaning was that the evil action that the Israelites were about to undertake would return to strike them. Rashi says he agrees with Onkelos’s interpretation, but then offers an alternative explanation from the Midrash: Ra’a in verse 10:10 should not be taken simply to mean “evil”; rather, says Rashi, Ra’a is the name of a star, and that star is an omen of blood and death that, Pharaoh claims, will work against the Israelites. Rabeinu Bachyay agrees with both of the above interpretations and adds that the heavenly body called Ra’a is actually the red planet Mars. And Sforno, who generally seeks the most straightforward explanation consistent with the language of the Torah text, interprets Pharaoh’s reply to mean, “You are headed for evil consequences.”
To me, none of these explanations is fully satisfying, and I want to propose a different interpretation. None of the traditional commentaries look at Pharaoh’s statement from Pharaoh’s point of view, in the context of Egyptian culture. This is Pharaoh speaking – Pharaoh, king of Egypt, regarded among his people as a god on earth, who claims his father to be the sun god Ra. And thus, the word Ra’a in verse 10:10 may not be the Hebrew word for evil, but rather a transliteration of the name of the Egyptian sun god; and Pharaoh’s reply may therefore be viewed as a challenge to the Israelites, pitting his deity against ours: “Then may YHVH be with you, just as I will send you forth with your children; see that Ra [my god] opposes you!” In other words, let your God be with you, and we shall see how much good that does when my god opposes you.
© Copyright 2012 by Ben Roshgolin. All rights reserved.
Moses and Aaron are recalled, and Pharaoh says, “Go and worship YHVH your God.” But when Pharaoh then asks who will be going, Moses answers, “With our young and our old we will go; with our sons and our daughters, with our sheep and our cattle we will go, for it is YHVH’s pilgrimage festival for us.” And to this statement, Pharaoh replies with apparent sarcastm (Exodus 10:10): “Then may YHVH be with you, just as I will send you forth with your children; see that Ra’a (evil) is before your faces!”
What is the meaning of this cryptic reply? Specifically, what is this Ra’a that Pharaoh says will confront the Israelites. The commentators and translators all struggle with Pharaoh’s intention. According to the Aramaic translation of Onkelos (as interpreted by Ramban), Pharaoh’s meaning was that the evil action that the Israelites were about to undertake would return to strike them. Rashi says he agrees with Onkelos’s interpretation, but then offers an alternative explanation from the Midrash: Ra’a in verse 10:10 should not be taken simply to mean “evil”; rather, says Rashi, Ra’a is the name of a star, and that star is an omen of blood and death that, Pharaoh claims, will work against the Israelites. Rabeinu Bachyay agrees with both of the above interpretations and adds that the heavenly body called Ra’a is actually the red planet Mars. And Sforno, who generally seeks the most straightforward explanation consistent with the language of the Torah text, interprets Pharaoh’s reply to mean, “You are headed for evil consequences.”
To me, none of these explanations is fully satisfying, and I want to propose a different interpretation. None of the traditional commentaries look at Pharaoh’s statement from Pharaoh’s point of view, in the context of Egyptian culture. This is Pharaoh speaking – Pharaoh, king of Egypt, regarded among his people as a god on earth, who claims his father to be the sun god Ra. And thus, the word Ra’a in verse 10:10 may not be the Hebrew word for evil, but rather a transliteration of the name of the Egyptian sun god; and Pharaoh’s reply may therefore be viewed as a challenge to the Israelites, pitting his deity against ours: “Then may YHVH be with you, just as I will send you forth with your children; see that Ra [my god] opposes you!” In other words, let your God be with you, and we shall see how much good that does when my god opposes you.
© Copyright 2012 by Ben Roshgolin. All rights reserved.
05 December 2011
Thoughts on Vayishlach: I Have Sojourned with Lavan
At the beginning of the portion of Vayishlach, Jacob sends messengers to his brother Esau in an attempt to make peace and to dissuade Esau from attacking him. Jacob instructs the messengers to begin his message saying, “I have sojourned with Lavan and have tarried till now” (Genesis 32:4). What is the significance of that statement?
In his well-known commentary on this verse, Rashi interprets: Im Lavan garti, vetaryag mitzvot shamarti − I have sojourned with Lavan and have kept the commandments, and I have not learned from his evil ways. Indeed, Rashi’s interpretation may contain a worthy lesson for us, Jacob’s descendants; but such a statement would make no impression on Esau. Why, then, would Jacob see fit to begin his message to Esau with such words? Also, if Jacob saw any significance to mentioning his stay with Lavan, why didn’t he state clearly what the significance was?
Lavan was a powerful man, and at one point he even says to Jacob, “It is in my power to do you harm” (Genesis 31:19). In fact, the Zohar points out that Lavan was known as a master sorcerer who would not allow anybody to get the better of him. And yet, Jacob had escaped from Lavan’s clutches! Let that fact be a warning to Esau.
The Zohar continues with a second interpretation, focusing on the words “and have tarried till now.” In fact, Jacob had lived with Lavan for twenty years, and, as Jacob says in the following verse, from his work with Lavan he had amassed great wealth: cattle, donkeys, sheep, slaves, and maidservants. Let Esau wonder whether in all that time Jacob had also acquired from Lavan the knowledge of sorcery. Let that also be a warning to Esau.
Indeed, the Zohar’s two interpretations are not mutually exclusive. Let Esau puzzle over the implication of Jacob’s message. Let him wonder what Jacob left unsaid. And let him therefore think twice before bearing arms against his brother.
© Copyright 2011 by Ben Roshgolin. All rights reserved.
References:
Zohar I:166b. See also Zohar I:161a regarding Lavan’s being a sorcerer.
In his well-known commentary on this verse, Rashi interprets: Im Lavan garti, vetaryag mitzvot shamarti − I have sojourned with Lavan and have kept the commandments, and I have not learned from his evil ways. Indeed, Rashi’s interpretation may contain a worthy lesson for us, Jacob’s descendants; but such a statement would make no impression on Esau. Why, then, would Jacob see fit to begin his message to Esau with such words? Also, if Jacob saw any significance to mentioning his stay with Lavan, why didn’t he state clearly what the significance was?
Lavan was a powerful man, and at one point he even says to Jacob, “It is in my power to do you harm” (Genesis 31:19). In fact, the Zohar points out that Lavan was known as a master sorcerer who would not allow anybody to get the better of him. And yet, Jacob had escaped from Lavan’s clutches! Let that fact be a warning to Esau.
The Zohar continues with a second interpretation, focusing on the words “and have tarried till now.” In fact, Jacob had lived with Lavan for twenty years, and, as Jacob says in the following verse, from his work with Lavan he had amassed great wealth: cattle, donkeys, sheep, slaves, and maidservants. Let Esau wonder whether in all that time Jacob had also acquired from Lavan the knowledge of sorcery. Let that also be a warning to Esau.
Indeed, the Zohar’s two interpretations are not mutually exclusive. Let Esau puzzle over the implication of Jacob’s message. Let him wonder what Jacob left unsaid. And let him therefore think twice before bearing arms against his brother.
© Copyright 2011 by Ben Roshgolin. All rights reserved.
References:
Zohar I:166b. See also Zohar I:161a regarding Lavan’s being a sorcerer.
06 September 2011
Thoughts on Ki Tetze: Sin, the Nuptial Bond, and the Flight of Birds
In the portion of Ki Tetze, the Torah defines the method by which a man may divorce his wife: “If a man takes a woman as his wife, and if it happens that she is displeasing in his eyes, because he has found something abhorrent about her, then he shall write her a writ of divorce, he shall give it into her hand, and send her away from his home” (Deuteronomy 24:1).
The phrasing – “If a man takes a woman” – that the verse above uses in reference to marriage is similar to the phrasing that the Torah uses to express God’s relation to the nation of Israel: “I will take you as my nation, and I will be your God” (Exodus 6:7). In numerous places, the prophets envision God as the husband of Israel, and when Israel sins, the prophets see their nation as a wayward woman. Thus, God “divorces” the northern kingdom of the ten tribes; they are exiled from their land and are lost. But God stops short of fully divorcing the Kingdom of Judah: “Where is your mother’s writ of divorce, that I have sent her away?” asks Isaiah. Indeed, the Jews of the southern kingdom, like their northern brothers, are exiled from their land; but it is a separation and not a divorce. After seventy years, they will return and rebuild.
Note Isaiah’s unusual reference to “your mother’s writ of divorce.” We might readily understand the imagery of God divorcing Israel, or of expelling the people from their land on account of their sins, just as God expelled Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden on account of their sin; but who is “your mother” in Isaiah’s metaphor, and why is she sent away? Also note how Isaiah continues: “. . . for on account of your sins you have been sold, and through your transgressions your mother was sent away” (Isaiah 50:1), a phrasing that brings to mind Shilu’ach Haken – the mitzvah of sending away the mother bird from her nest before taking her children – a mitzvah also mentioned in the portion of Ki Tetze. It is not only the children of Israel who are taken from their land, but also their mother is sent away.
And so, I ask again, who is this mother in Isaiah’s imagery, sent to fly away while her children are taken from their nest? Most of the commentaries gloss over that question, but the Zohar has an interesting interpretation: the mother who is sent away is the Shekhina, the divine presence in our world. God is often envisioned as residing in Heaven, far above the realm of our existence. But God is also immanent in our world and within us, and His presence – the Shekhina – is palpable to those who are attuned to it. Leading a life of righteousness brings us closer to the Shekhina, while doing evil drives the Shekhina away. Our sins, then, result in a two-fold exile: we are driven from our land, and the divine presence is sent away.
But the separation is not permanent. “Can one spurn the wife of his youth?” asks Isaiah in the Haftarah of Ki Tetze (Isaiah 54:6). “For a brief moment I forsook you, but with great compassion I will gather you back. In a flash of fury I hid my face from you a moment, but with everlasting kindness I take you back in love, said the Lord your Redeemer” (Isaiah 54:7-8).
© Copyright 2011 by Ben Roshgolin. All rights reserved.
References:
For Israel as a harlot, see Hosea chapters 1 and 2.
For discussion of “divorce” of the ten tribes contrasted with the exile of the southern kingdom, see Radak’s commentary on Isaiah 50:1.
For the consequence of Adam and Eve’s sin, see the opening lines of Tana Devei Eliyahu, where God is seen as giving Man a divorce. Contrariwise, in the Zohar it is not only God who drives Adam out of the garden, but also it is Adam who expels the Shekhina (Zohar I:53b, I:237a).
The phrasing – “If a man takes a woman” – that the verse above uses in reference to marriage is similar to the phrasing that the Torah uses to express God’s relation to the nation of Israel: “I will take you as my nation, and I will be your God” (Exodus 6:7). In numerous places, the prophets envision God as the husband of Israel, and when Israel sins, the prophets see their nation as a wayward woman. Thus, God “divorces” the northern kingdom of the ten tribes; they are exiled from their land and are lost. But God stops short of fully divorcing the Kingdom of Judah: “Where is your mother’s writ of divorce, that I have sent her away?” asks Isaiah. Indeed, the Jews of the southern kingdom, like their northern brothers, are exiled from their land; but it is a separation and not a divorce. After seventy years, they will return and rebuild.
Note Isaiah’s unusual reference to “your mother’s writ of divorce.” We might readily understand the imagery of God divorcing Israel, or of expelling the people from their land on account of their sins, just as God expelled Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden on account of their sin; but who is “your mother” in Isaiah’s metaphor, and why is she sent away? Also note how Isaiah continues: “. . . for on account of your sins you have been sold, and through your transgressions your mother was sent away” (Isaiah 50:1), a phrasing that brings to mind Shilu’ach Haken – the mitzvah of sending away the mother bird from her nest before taking her children – a mitzvah also mentioned in the portion of Ki Tetze. It is not only the children of Israel who are taken from their land, but also their mother is sent away.
And so, I ask again, who is this mother in Isaiah’s imagery, sent to fly away while her children are taken from their nest? Most of the commentaries gloss over that question, but the Zohar has an interesting interpretation: the mother who is sent away is the Shekhina, the divine presence in our world. God is often envisioned as residing in Heaven, far above the realm of our existence. But God is also immanent in our world and within us, and His presence – the Shekhina – is palpable to those who are attuned to it. Leading a life of righteousness brings us closer to the Shekhina, while doing evil drives the Shekhina away. Our sins, then, result in a two-fold exile: we are driven from our land, and the divine presence is sent away.
But the separation is not permanent. “Can one spurn the wife of his youth?” asks Isaiah in the Haftarah of Ki Tetze (Isaiah 54:6). “For a brief moment I forsook you, but with great compassion I will gather you back. In a flash of fury I hid my face from you a moment, but with everlasting kindness I take you back in love, said the Lord your Redeemer” (Isaiah 54:7-8).
© Copyright 2011 by Ben Roshgolin. All rights reserved.
References:
For Israel as a harlot, see Hosea chapters 1 and 2.
For discussion of “divorce” of the ten tribes contrasted with the exile of the southern kingdom, see Radak’s commentary on Isaiah 50:1.
For the consequence of Adam and Eve’s sin, see the opening lines of Tana Devei Eliyahu, where God is seen as giving Man a divorce. Contrariwise, in the Zohar it is not only God who drives Adam out of the garden, but also it is Adam who expels the Shekhina (Zohar I:53b, I:237a).
07 August 2011
Thoughts on Va’etchanan: God’s Relationship with Israel
The Torah portion of Va’etchanan contains some of the central ideas of Judaism. In my previous commentary on Va’etchanan (see my post of 23 July 2009), I discussed the unity of God as represented in the Shma. In the current article, I will address God’s relationship to mankind in general and to the nation of Israel in particular.
If somebody who knew nothing about the Jewish religion were to ask a Jew to summarize in one sentence the central belief of Judaism, the Jew might be tempted to answer that he believes in one God who has no physical body and who created the universe. While all the components of that statement are correct, such a summarization of Jewish faith would be inadequate.
When God first spoke to Moses, He said, “I appeared to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob as El Shaddai; but by my characterization as YHVH, I was not known to them” (Exodus 6:3). The three patriarchs knew God as the God of the Covenant, a personal deity Who cares about the world and communicates with Man. They did not know Him as YHVH – the Lord, who is above nature, who is above the Universe and completely outside the realm of human experience.
In a similar vein, when God first spoke to the nation of Israel as a whole, He did not begin by saying, “I am the Lord your God, Who created the Universe.” Such a representation would have been too abstract, too removed from human experience, and would not indicate that God cares anything for the universe that He created, or that He directs the course of history. Therefore, God began the Ten Commandments saying, “I am the Lord your God took you out of the land of Egypt, from the house of bondage” (Exodus 20:2, and Deuteronomy 5:6). He is more than the creator of the universe: He is a personal God, Who intervenes in history on behalf of Israel and to whom we can relate through human experience.
Note that God does not give His attention only to the people of Israel. The whole world is His (see Exodus 19:5), and He has intervened in history on behalf of other nations besides Israel (see Amos 9:7). Also, God did not speak only to Israelite prophets, but also to the prophets of other nations, such as Noah, Bil’am, and Job. But the nation of Israel has a special place in the world, as a chosen people and a holy nation (see Deuteronomy 7:6-8, and Exodus 19:5-6), and the land of Israel occupies a special place in God’s attention (Deuteronomy 11:12). Therefore, in fulfillment of God’s plan for the world and by virtue of God’s covenant with the patriarchs, the people of Israel are inextricably linked to the land of Israel. (See Deuteronomy 6:10 & 23, and 7:1.)
The people of Israel were forcibly separated from their land when the nation was exiled in 586 BCE, only to return after seventy years. The Second Commonwealth stood until 70 CE, when the Romans again forcibly separated the Jewish people from their land. But, despite a duration of many centuries, this second exile could not be permanent either. As the Haftarah of Va’etchanan tells us, a voice from on high proclaims, “In the wilderness, make way for the Lord” (Isaiah 40:3), for those who were degraded are raised up, and God again intervenes in history to return the people of Israel to their land (Ibid 10-11).
© Copyright 2011 by Ben Roshgolin. All rights reserved.
References:
For a discussion of “I am the Lord your God took you out of the land of Egypt” as the central creed of Judaism, see Yehuda Halevi’s The Kuzari I:11-25. My analysis, while not identical to Halevi’s, is to a great extent based on the discussion in The Kuzari. Please see the sidebar of this blog (you may have to scroll down a bit) for a link to The Kuzari.
For an interpretation of Exodus 6:3, see Zohar II:22b (bottom) through the bottom of 23a. My interpretation of that verse (see above) is loosely based on the Zohar’s interpretation, re-phrased in non-Kabbalistic terms.
If somebody who knew nothing about the Jewish religion were to ask a Jew to summarize in one sentence the central belief of Judaism, the Jew might be tempted to answer that he believes in one God who has no physical body and who created the universe. While all the components of that statement are correct, such a summarization of Jewish faith would be inadequate.
When God first spoke to Moses, He said, “I appeared to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob as El Shaddai; but by my characterization as YHVH, I was not known to them” (Exodus 6:3). The three patriarchs knew God as the God of the Covenant, a personal deity Who cares about the world and communicates with Man. They did not know Him as YHVH – the Lord, who is above nature, who is above the Universe and completely outside the realm of human experience.
In a similar vein, when God first spoke to the nation of Israel as a whole, He did not begin by saying, “I am the Lord your God, Who created the Universe.” Such a representation would have been too abstract, too removed from human experience, and would not indicate that God cares anything for the universe that He created, or that He directs the course of history. Therefore, God began the Ten Commandments saying, “I am the Lord your God took you out of the land of Egypt, from the house of bondage” (Exodus 20:2, and Deuteronomy 5:6). He is more than the creator of the universe: He is a personal God, Who intervenes in history on behalf of Israel and to whom we can relate through human experience.
Note that God does not give His attention only to the people of Israel. The whole world is His (see Exodus 19:5), and He has intervened in history on behalf of other nations besides Israel (see Amos 9:7). Also, God did not speak only to Israelite prophets, but also to the prophets of other nations, such as Noah, Bil’am, and Job. But the nation of Israel has a special place in the world, as a chosen people and a holy nation (see Deuteronomy 7:6-8, and Exodus 19:5-6), and the land of Israel occupies a special place in God’s attention (Deuteronomy 11:12). Therefore, in fulfillment of God’s plan for the world and by virtue of God’s covenant with the patriarchs, the people of Israel are inextricably linked to the land of Israel. (See Deuteronomy 6:10 & 23, and 7:1.)
The people of Israel were forcibly separated from their land when the nation was exiled in 586 BCE, only to return after seventy years. The Second Commonwealth stood until 70 CE, when the Romans again forcibly separated the Jewish people from their land. But, despite a duration of many centuries, this second exile could not be permanent either. As the Haftarah of Va’etchanan tells us, a voice from on high proclaims, “In the wilderness, make way for the Lord” (Isaiah 40:3), for those who were degraded are raised up, and God again intervenes in history to return the people of Israel to their land (Ibid 10-11).
© Copyright 2011 by Ben Roshgolin. All rights reserved.
References:
For a discussion of “I am the Lord your God took you out of the land of Egypt” as the central creed of Judaism, see Yehuda Halevi’s The Kuzari I:11-25. My analysis, while not identical to Halevi’s, is to a great extent based on the discussion in The Kuzari. Please see the sidebar of this blog (you may have to scroll down a bit) for a link to The Kuzari.
For an interpretation of Exodus 6:3, see Zohar II:22b (bottom) through the bottom of 23a. My interpretation of that verse (see above) is loosely based on the Zohar’s interpretation, re-phrased in non-Kabbalistic terms.
19 July 2011
Thoughts on The Haftarah of Mattot: The Making of a Prophet
The Haftarah of Mattot – the first Chapter of Jeremiah – introduces the prophetic mission of Jeremiah, the prophet who foretold the destruction of the First Jewish Commonwealth and subsequently comforted and sustained his defeated nation. Like other prophets before him, Jeremiah felt he was inadequate to his assigned task. But God would accept no excuses, declaring (Jeremiah 1:5), “Before I formed you in the belly, I knew you; and before you emerged from the womb, I sanctified you; a prophet to the nations I have appointed you.”
These words of God to Jeremiah raise two fundamental questions: 1) Does a person become a prophet only if God chooses him, or can he attain prophetic vision by his own efforts, through intensive study and self-improvement? 2) What happened to free will? Can’t Jeremiah, or any prophet, choose not to be a prophet?
On the first of these questions, Maimonides (Rambam, 1135-1204) opines that prophecy is impossible without training, and it is only through intensive study and self-perfection that a person can attain prophetic vision. Thus, we see in the Bible that there were schools for prophecy, and the students were able to prophecy (see I Kings 20:35-43). Nevertheless, study and training alone were not enough, and some who were adequately prepared – such as Jeremiah’s secretary Baruch –never became prophets, because God had not chosen them. God’s selection of a person for prophecy, then, is prerequisite according to Maimonides, but the potential prophet cannot realize his potential without study and training.
A different view of prophecy is found in the philosophy of Rabbi Yehuda Halevi (1075-1141). According to him, God grants the prophet an inner eye, through which the prophet is able to perceive visions that are beyond the reach of other people, and it is only through this God-given faculty that a person can become a prophet. Halevi does not cite study and training as prerequisites for prophecy, and apparently they play no role, according to him.
Which of these two views of prophecy is correct? The existence of schools of prophecy provides strong support for the view of Maimonides. And yet, Samuel’s initiation as a prophet when he was but a child (1 Samuel, chapter 3) provides strong evidence against the contention that intensive study and training are necessary prerequisites to become a prophet.
I believe that both views are correct up to a point. The view of Maimonides applies to the great majority of prophets – the hundreds or thousands of prophets whose names we don’t know, trained in the prophetic schools over the period of four or five centuries prior to the destruction of the first Temple. But for the greatest of the prophets, the ones who have books named after them, or others – such as Elijah and Elisha – whose prophecies appear on multiple occasions in the Bible, training was not necessary. Their inner vision – their God-given talent to perceive that which is beyond the ken of ordinary people – was so great that little or no training was needed for them. Truly, they were selected before they were born and were predestined to prophecy. It was not their choice, but God’s.
And that brings us to our second question: what about free will? Couldn’t Jeremiah, or any prophet, choose not to be a prophet? After all, the Torah tells us that Man has free will to choose the path of righteousness or the path of evil. And, even for the prophet, the choice between good and evil still applies: Bil’am, despite having been blessed with prophetic vision, chose the path of evil. Nevertheless, in the matter of prophecy, the prophet has no choice; he must prophecy willy-nilly. Jonah sought to run away from prophecy, but God would not allow it (see my commentary on Jonah, posted 2 October 2009). Bil’am sought to curse Israel, but God forced him to bless instead (see my comments on Balak, posted 16 July 2009). Moses, Isaiah, and Jeremiah all claimed they couldn’t prophecy. But God had chosen them. He had created them to prophecy, and they could not refuse. As God declared to Jeremiah, “Before I formed you in the belly, I knew you; and before you emerged from the womb, I sanctified you.” Or, as Amos puts it (Amos 3:8): “A lion has roared, who will not fear? The Lord God has spoken, who will not prophecy?”
© Copyright 2011 by Ben Roshgolin. All rights reserved.
References:
For the view of Maimonides on prophecy, see The Guide for the Perplexed II:32.
For Halevi’s view on prophecy, see The Kuzari IV:3, V:14, and V:16. (See the sidebar of this blog for a link to The Kuzari.)
For a discussion of free will, see “Thoughts on Re’eh” (posted 10 Aug 2009). See also “Thoughts on Nitzavim” (posted 7 September 2009).
These words of God to Jeremiah raise two fundamental questions: 1) Does a person become a prophet only if God chooses him, or can he attain prophetic vision by his own efforts, through intensive study and self-improvement? 2) What happened to free will? Can’t Jeremiah, or any prophet, choose not to be a prophet?
On the first of these questions, Maimonides (Rambam, 1135-1204) opines that prophecy is impossible without training, and it is only through intensive study and self-perfection that a person can attain prophetic vision. Thus, we see in the Bible that there were schools for prophecy, and the students were able to prophecy (see I Kings 20:35-43). Nevertheless, study and training alone were not enough, and some who were adequately prepared – such as Jeremiah’s secretary Baruch –never became prophets, because God had not chosen them. God’s selection of a person for prophecy, then, is prerequisite according to Maimonides, but the potential prophet cannot realize his potential without study and training.
A different view of prophecy is found in the philosophy of Rabbi Yehuda Halevi (1075-1141). According to him, God grants the prophet an inner eye, through which the prophet is able to perceive visions that are beyond the reach of other people, and it is only through this God-given faculty that a person can become a prophet. Halevi does not cite study and training as prerequisites for prophecy, and apparently they play no role, according to him.
Which of these two views of prophecy is correct? The existence of schools of prophecy provides strong support for the view of Maimonides. And yet, Samuel’s initiation as a prophet when he was but a child (1 Samuel, chapter 3) provides strong evidence against the contention that intensive study and training are necessary prerequisites to become a prophet.
I believe that both views are correct up to a point. The view of Maimonides applies to the great majority of prophets – the hundreds or thousands of prophets whose names we don’t know, trained in the prophetic schools over the period of four or five centuries prior to the destruction of the first Temple. But for the greatest of the prophets, the ones who have books named after them, or others – such as Elijah and Elisha – whose prophecies appear on multiple occasions in the Bible, training was not necessary. Their inner vision – their God-given talent to perceive that which is beyond the ken of ordinary people – was so great that little or no training was needed for them. Truly, they were selected before they were born and were predestined to prophecy. It was not their choice, but God’s.
And that brings us to our second question: what about free will? Couldn’t Jeremiah, or any prophet, choose not to be a prophet? After all, the Torah tells us that Man has free will to choose the path of righteousness or the path of evil. And, even for the prophet, the choice between good and evil still applies: Bil’am, despite having been blessed with prophetic vision, chose the path of evil. Nevertheless, in the matter of prophecy, the prophet has no choice; he must prophecy willy-nilly. Jonah sought to run away from prophecy, but God would not allow it (see my commentary on Jonah, posted 2 October 2009). Bil’am sought to curse Israel, but God forced him to bless instead (see my comments on Balak, posted 16 July 2009). Moses, Isaiah, and Jeremiah all claimed they couldn’t prophecy. But God had chosen them. He had created them to prophecy, and they could not refuse. As God declared to Jeremiah, “Before I formed you in the belly, I knew you; and before you emerged from the womb, I sanctified you.” Or, as Amos puts it (Amos 3:8): “A lion has roared, who will not fear? The Lord God has spoken, who will not prophecy?”
© Copyright 2011 by Ben Roshgolin. All rights reserved.
References:
For the view of Maimonides on prophecy, see The Guide for the Perplexed II:32.
For Halevi’s view on prophecy, see The Kuzari IV:3, V:14, and V:16. (See the sidebar of this blog for a link to The Kuzari.)
For a discussion of free will, see “Thoughts on Re’eh” (posted 10 Aug 2009). See also “Thoughts on Nitzavim” (posted 7 September 2009).
29 June 2011
Thoughts on Chukkat: Moses and the Rock
The Torah portion of Chukkat contains several significant historical events, and one of the most perplexing is that of Moses striking the rock (Numbers 20:2-11). In a similar episode shortly after the exodus from Egypt (Exodus 17:1-7), the Israelites thirsted for water in the desert, and God commanded Moses to bring forth water by striking a rock in front of the elders of Israel. Now, in Chukkat, about 38 or 39 years later, again there is no water. But this time, God tells Moses to take up his staff and, together with Aaron, to assemble the people and bring forth water by speaking to a rock in front of the entire nation. Instead, Moses again strikes the rock, following which God declares that, in consequence of Moses and Aaron’s failure to consecrate God before the entire nation, neither of them will be allowed to enter the Promised Land (verses 12-14). Aaron dies soon after (verses 22-29), while Moses continues to lead his people until just before they enter the land of Israel.
The Torah makes it very clear that Moses and Aaron sinned, but what exactly was the nature of their sin? The Torah does not clarify this point. Was it that they didn’t speak to rock? (See Rashi and Yalkut Shimoni.) But an alternative interpretation of God’s command of vedibbartem el hasela could be that they should speak to the subject of the rock, i.e. address the people and tell them how they will extract water from the rock; and thus they did speak.
Perhaps, then, their sin was the act of striking the rock? But it was Moses and not Aaron who struck the rock, so why is Aaron also charged with a sin? (See Abravnel.) Moreover, if Moses was not supposed to strike the rock, then why did God tell him to take up his staff? What was he supposed to do with the staff? (See Nachmanides on Numbers 20:1.) And finally, specifically how did Moses and Aaron fail to sanctify God? They did, after all, perform a miracle. And if they did not perform the miracle in exactly the way they had been directed to do, why did God consider that to be such a grievous sin as to merit such harsh punishment?
Maimonides (Rambam), in chapter 4 of Shemona Perakim, explains that calling the people rebels and striking the rock were manifestations of anger. But it was only Moses who was angry; there is no indication that God was incensed against the people of Israel at that time, so Moses’s display of anger was inappropriate. The people would mistakenly interpret his anger to be an indication of that God was angry.
Nachmanides (Ramban), however, in addition to disputing the thesis that hitting the rock was a manifestation of anger, also objects that such an explanation could not apply to Aaron, since Nachmanides cites a verse to show that Aaron never got angry in his life. Furthermore, the Torah attributes the sin of Moses and Aaron to lack of faith (see verse 12) and not to anger. Nachmanides proposes that the most likely explanation of the sin is that of Rabbeinu Chananel, who said that Moses and Aaron’s sin consisted in not attributing the miracle to God but implying that it was they who produced the miracle through their own power, saying “From this rock shall we extract for you water?” (Numbers 20:10.)
Abravnel is not satisfied with any of the above explanations, and he offers yet another solution. According to Abravnel, the actions of Moses and Aaron in Chukkat were manifestations of something deeper: a flaw in their character as leaders. The flaw had also manifested itself previously. In the case of Aaron, it was in the episode of the Golden Calf, when the Torah tells us (in the portion of Ki Tissa) that Aaron gave in to the people’s demands and built an idol for them. In the case of Moses, it was in the episode of the spies (in the portion of Shelach) that Moses instructs the spies to explore the Promised Land and report whether it is a good land or a bad one, whether the inhabitants are strong or weak. Indeed, God had directed Moses to send spies, but He had not told Moses to give those instructions. Moses should have stated emphatically that this was the land that God had promised, and the sole mission of the spies was to gather strategic information to enable the leaders to formulate a battle plan. In Abravnel’s view, then, the episode of the rock was merely the inciting incident but not the sole explanation for the punishment of Moses and Aaron. In fact, because of the Golden Calf, Abravnel sees Aaron’s sin as the greater, and that is why Aaron did not even attempt to ask God to mitigate his punishment, whereas Moses did ask that for himself (Deuteronomy 3:23-25).
Another way to look at the episode is not to view God’s pronouncement as a punishment in the usual sense, although undoubtedly Moses considered it to be such. In the view of Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin (also known as The Netziv, 1816-1893), the book of Numbers, and especially the sidra of Chukkat, is a tale of transition: the transition of the Israelites from slaves to free people, from a group of unruly tribes to a nation, from dependence – first on the Egyptians and then on God’s miraculous aid – to independence and self-determination. Moses, the great leader who brought his people out of slavery in Egypt and presided over the initial stages of the transformation, still regarded the people of Israel as he had when they first came out of Egypt – a difficult, stiff-necked people. And, as Rabbeinu Zadok of Lublin (1823-1900) points out, the striking of the rock is symbolic of that view. But the Israelites had changed. And yet, Moses still used the same approach and the same methods that he had used with the previous generation of his people. He, and presumably Aaron also, had failed to adapt to a new reality, and therefore new leadership was necessary.
More than three millennia have passed since the events described in the portion of Chukkat, and over the centuries commentators have advanced many different explanations of Moses and Aaron’s sin. Each explanation has a kernel of truth, but none seems completely adequate. And so, we continue to search the text of the Torah for clues. Indeed, perhaps that is the very purpose of not spelling out the sin of Moses and Aaron. God wants us to probe the characters of our greatest leaders and to identify their flaws. Even Moses, whose divine reach exceeded that of any other prophet of Israel (see Deuteronomy 34:10), nevertheless was only human, and we must never idolize him or make him superhuman in our eyes. It is the very vagueness of the Torah in identifying the sin of Moses in the portion of Chukkat that has spurred our exploration of his failure and has helped prevent us from attributing to him any measure of divinity.
© Copyright 2011 by Ben Roshgolin. All rights reserved.
The Torah makes it very clear that Moses and Aaron sinned, but what exactly was the nature of their sin? The Torah does not clarify this point. Was it that they didn’t speak to rock? (See Rashi and Yalkut Shimoni.) But an alternative interpretation of God’s command of vedibbartem el hasela could be that they should speak to the subject of the rock, i.e. address the people and tell them how they will extract water from the rock; and thus they did speak.
Perhaps, then, their sin was the act of striking the rock? But it was Moses and not Aaron who struck the rock, so why is Aaron also charged with a sin? (See Abravnel.) Moreover, if Moses was not supposed to strike the rock, then why did God tell him to take up his staff? What was he supposed to do with the staff? (See Nachmanides on Numbers 20:1.) And finally, specifically how did Moses and Aaron fail to sanctify God? They did, after all, perform a miracle. And if they did not perform the miracle in exactly the way they had been directed to do, why did God consider that to be such a grievous sin as to merit such harsh punishment?
Maimonides (Rambam), in chapter 4 of Shemona Perakim, explains that calling the people rebels and striking the rock were manifestations of anger. But it was only Moses who was angry; there is no indication that God was incensed against the people of Israel at that time, so Moses’s display of anger was inappropriate. The people would mistakenly interpret his anger to be an indication of that God was angry.
Nachmanides (Ramban), however, in addition to disputing the thesis that hitting the rock was a manifestation of anger, also objects that such an explanation could not apply to Aaron, since Nachmanides cites a verse to show that Aaron never got angry in his life. Furthermore, the Torah attributes the sin of Moses and Aaron to lack of faith (see verse 12) and not to anger. Nachmanides proposes that the most likely explanation of the sin is that of Rabbeinu Chananel, who said that Moses and Aaron’s sin consisted in not attributing the miracle to God but implying that it was they who produced the miracle through their own power, saying “From this rock shall we extract for you water?” (Numbers 20:10.)
Abravnel is not satisfied with any of the above explanations, and he offers yet another solution. According to Abravnel, the actions of Moses and Aaron in Chukkat were manifestations of something deeper: a flaw in their character as leaders. The flaw had also manifested itself previously. In the case of Aaron, it was in the episode of the Golden Calf, when the Torah tells us (in the portion of Ki Tissa) that Aaron gave in to the people’s demands and built an idol for them. In the case of Moses, it was in the episode of the spies (in the portion of Shelach) that Moses instructs the spies to explore the Promised Land and report whether it is a good land or a bad one, whether the inhabitants are strong or weak. Indeed, God had directed Moses to send spies, but He had not told Moses to give those instructions. Moses should have stated emphatically that this was the land that God had promised, and the sole mission of the spies was to gather strategic information to enable the leaders to formulate a battle plan. In Abravnel’s view, then, the episode of the rock was merely the inciting incident but not the sole explanation for the punishment of Moses and Aaron. In fact, because of the Golden Calf, Abravnel sees Aaron’s sin as the greater, and that is why Aaron did not even attempt to ask God to mitigate his punishment, whereas Moses did ask that for himself (Deuteronomy 3:23-25).
Another way to look at the episode is not to view God’s pronouncement as a punishment in the usual sense, although undoubtedly Moses considered it to be such. In the view of Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin (also known as The Netziv, 1816-1893), the book of Numbers, and especially the sidra of Chukkat, is a tale of transition: the transition of the Israelites from slaves to free people, from a group of unruly tribes to a nation, from dependence – first on the Egyptians and then on God’s miraculous aid – to independence and self-determination. Moses, the great leader who brought his people out of slavery in Egypt and presided over the initial stages of the transformation, still regarded the people of Israel as he had when they first came out of Egypt – a difficult, stiff-necked people. And, as Rabbeinu Zadok of Lublin (1823-1900) points out, the striking of the rock is symbolic of that view. But the Israelites had changed. And yet, Moses still used the same approach and the same methods that he had used with the previous generation of his people. He, and presumably Aaron also, had failed to adapt to a new reality, and therefore new leadership was necessary.
More than three millennia have passed since the events described in the portion of Chukkat, and over the centuries commentators have advanced many different explanations of Moses and Aaron’s sin. Each explanation has a kernel of truth, but none seems completely adequate. And so, we continue to search the text of the Torah for clues. Indeed, perhaps that is the very purpose of not spelling out the sin of Moses and Aaron. God wants us to probe the characters of our greatest leaders and to identify their flaws. Even Moses, whose divine reach exceeded that of any other prophet of Israel (see Deuteronomy 34:10), nevertheless was only human, and we must never idolize him or make him superhuman in our eyes. It is the very vagueness of the Torah in identifying the sin of Moses in the portion of Chukkat that has spurred our exploration of his failure and has helped prevent us from attributing to him any measure of divinity.
© Copyright 2011 by Ben Roshgolin. All rights reserved.
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