Saturday, October 31, 2015

Ibn Ezra on Ruth 2:17

One of my rebbeim called it the "strangest Ibn Ezra I've ever seen."

The verse says,

And she gleaned in the field until evening, and she beat out what she had gleaned, and it was about an ephah of barley.יזוַתְּלַקֵּט בַּשָּׂדֶה עַד הָעָרֶב וַתַּחְבֹּט אֵת אֲשֶׁר לִקֵּטָה וַיְהִי כְּאֵיפָה שְׂעֹרִים:

Ibn Ezra comments:

ויהי כאיפה שעורים. פעם אחת שאלני אדם, מה טעם באיפה שעורים. אמרתי לו, אין טעם לשאלה הזאת, כי הכתוב ספר מה היה. אז נקלותי בעיניו, ויאמר לי כי יש לו טעם, ואני החרשתי ממנו ולא שאלתיו.

והנה בא ביום אחד ואמר לי, כי יש לו טעמים הרבה.

האחד שראתה רות בדרך נבואה כי עתיד היה אחד מבניה להעמיד עמוד על שם בעלה, וטעם 'איפה' - צ"ו רמונים שהיו על העמוד, וזה בגימטריא 'איפה', ופירוש 'שעורים' כמו 'שיעורים' כמו 'שער בנפשו'.

וטעם אחר, 'ויהי' - שתי מלות, ארמית ועברית. והיא כאשר ראתה שיתלה אבשלום שהוא מבניה, והנה כ"ף עם אל"ף רמז לשנות אבשלום במותו. ואחר כך 'איפה שערים' - לשון רבים, בעבור היותו כבד עליו.
וטעם אחר, כי תחילת אות כאיפה עם תחילת שעורים הוא בגמטריא 'ישי' שהוא צדיק גמור.

אז שמח וישב לבו בקרבו.


And it was about an ephah of barley: Once, a man asked me what was the purpose of the "ephah of barley." I said to him, there is no purpose to this question, for Scripture [just] describes what happened. I became inferior in his eyes, and he said to me that he has a reason, and I was silent and didn't ask him. 
And one day he came and said to me that he has many purposes [for why it was mentioned]. 
Firstly, that Ruth saw by way of prophecy that in the future one of her offspring would stand up an edifice by the name of her husband. And the reason of "ephah" - 96 pomegranates would be on this edifice, and that is the gematria of "ephah", and barley (se'orim) means similar to "shiurim" as in (Proverbs 23:7) "sha'ar benafsho" - "he who calculates in his heart." 
And another reason is, "and it was" (vayehi), two words, Aramaic and Hebrew ("vay," and "hi," "woe" in Hebrew, "him" in Aramaic). And it was when she she saw that Avshalom, one of her offspring, would be hanged. And behold, the chaf and alef [of k'ephah] is hinting to how old Avshalom was when he died [i.e. 21]. And after this, "ephah of barley" - in the plural, because [his hair] (II Samuel 14:26) "was heavy on him" [and it caused his death]. And another reason, because the first letter of "k'ephah" with the first of "se'orim" is the gematria of "Yishai", was was a completely righteous person. 
Then he was happy, his heart settled within him.

What is happening here? My first impression in response to my teacher was that Ibn Ezra was mocking the man: "I read it as a mockery of the approach that everything has to have significance outside of itself, as if the Torah can't simply write how something was. His disdain for gematria can be seen in Shemot 1:7, וחלילה שידבר הנביא בגימטרון או ברמיזות."

We could also add:  Genesis 14:14, where he writes in response to Rashi:

וחשבון אותיות אליעזר דרך דרש, כי אין הכתוב מדבר בגימטריא, כי יכול יוכל הרוצה להוציא כל שם לטוב ולרע, רק השם כמשמעו.

"And the count of the letters Eliezer is by way of derash, for Scripture does not speak in gematria, for anyone who wishes is able to cast any name for good or for bad. Rather the name is as its simple implication."

The rebbe added that there is a nice lesson from the Ibn Ezra that even if you disagree with an approach to Torah, there is still a value in listening to other people's divrei Torah.

Another friend had a different, yet similar, approach. He looked at the Ibn Ezra's introduction where he describes his method of interpretation of Scripture.

In his introduction to the peirush on Chumash Ib'n Ezra draws a clear distinction between the midrashim of Chazal and what this fellow was trying to do (compare the third and fourth 'ways'). It seems that what he says there about people trying to find "sod" in everything may shed some light on this comment in Rut:
הדרך הג' דרך חשך ואפלה, והיא מחוץ לקו העגולה, והם הבודאים מלבם לכל הדברים סודות, ואמונתם כי התורות והמשפטים חידות, ולא אאריך להשיב עליהם, כיעם תועי לבב הם, כי הדברים על צדק לא חלקו, בלתי בדבר אחד צדקו, אשר כל דבר מצוה קטנה או גדולה, בכף מאזני הלב תהיה שקולה, כי יש בלב דעהמחכמת יושב קדם נטועה. ואם הדעת לא תסבול הדבר, או ישחית אשר בהרגשות יתבר, אז יבקש לו סוד, כי שקול הדעת הוא היסוד, כי לא נתנה התורה לאשראין דעת לו, והמלאך בין אדם ובין אלהיו הוא שכלו, וכל דבר שהדעת לא תכחישנו, כפשוטו ומשפטו נפרשנו, ונעמידנו על מתכונתו, ונאמין כי ככה אמתו, ולא נגששקיר כעורים, ולפי צרכינו נמשוך הדברים, ולמה נהפוך הנראים לנסתרים? ואם יש מקומות שהם באמת נחברים, ושניהם נאמנים ברורים, מהם בגופות ומהםמחשבות, כמלת בשר וערלת לבות. ובעץ הדעת סוד ינעם, גם הדברים הם אמת כמשמעם. ואם יש איש לא יכילו זה רעיוניו, אם הוא חכם יפקח את עיניו, כי ימצא בתולדות רבים נוצרים כנחירים והלשון והרגלים לב' דברים:

In the bolded part he argues that the most important part of this approach is that everything is weighed against the "da'at" that's in the heart. From the hemshech it really sounds like he is talking about some kind of common sense/intuition which a person has to sense whether something is reasonably pashut or not. Only if One senses with the 'da'at shebalev' that something is simply not to be interpreted as pshat should one make recourse to 'sod'.

I'm not sure if this diyuk can hold water but perhaps we can compare this discussion to the last few words of Ibn Ezra in Rut: .
 אז שמח וישב לבו בקרבו

These words in the masculine are obviously not referring back to Rut's ruach hakodesh but rather to the man from the story. Perhaps the point is that Ibn Ezra's "shikul hada'at" led him to conclusion that this pasuk was simply presenting with background information about the story whereas this other fellow's feeling was that there must be some larger purpose for the inclusion of the measurement of wheat that Rut was able to gather which led him to his own conclusions. If we look at it this way then presenting this anecdote may actually be Ibn Ezra's way of saying "My feeling is that there is no problem here but this encounter made me realize that there may be other ways of looking at this." If you look carefully I don't think Ibn Ezra is actually sharp with this fellow like he is with other mepharshim in other places. 
It's also interesting that in the hakdamah Ibn Ezra doesn't rule out the possibility of explaining something with sod, just that it's unnecessary most of the time.

Agav orach this notion of "da'at shebalev" may help to solve another question about this Ibn Ezra. Granted that the pasuk is simply presenting information about the story, but isn't one of the fundamental issues of pshat why some information is presented and not other? It seems like not only the measurement but even this whole pasuk is actually unnecessary. Why does the megilah feel we need to know this? This question has nothing to do with midrashim or gematrias, and, in fact, both the Malbim and the Alshich present (very similar) purely pshat-based explanations for the goal of this pasuk. I'm certainly no expert on Ibn Ezra but I imagine it would not be difficult to find examples where he answers exactly this kind of question (i.e. Why is the pasuk presenting us with this information?). If so, why not ask the same thing here? (I think [you] the Rabbi asked a similar question about Rashi's seemingly inconsistent answering of certain kinds of questions). But if Ibn Ezra is working within the framework of "da'at shebalev" which is basically subjective then we can understand why he felt the need to explain things in certain places and not others.
This may all make no sense, but I'm hoping at least some of it is reasonable.

Friday, October 30, 2015

Having Thick Skin

The hock around YU nowadays is the search for the next president of YU - who will it be?

A certain rabbi has been receiving a bit of underground buzz. He is liked by so many, and many agree is so well-suited for the job, that he has received much attention and he has been asked - would you be the President of YU if given the chance?

After too many occurances, he took to Facebook to officially announce he has no intention of being the President of YU. He listed four examples, which I copy-and-paste below in his words:

Here are four reasons why [I am] not a candidate to be President of Yeshiva University:
1. I am not qualified.
2. I am not interested.
3. There are many people far better suited for the position.
4. I lack the thick skin that public figures must have if they are to be successful.
I can pass off the 1st and 3rd as being humble, and perhaps the 2nd as well. But the 4th reason makes me sad. Good people are shying away from leadership positions because they are afraid of the insults, the jibes, the hate. My grandfather wrote about this phenomena in his divrei Torah several times. My grandfather, Rabbi Chaim Zev (Herbert) Bomzer, also was disagreed with and his motives were doubted as being pure. He knew that thick skin was necessary all too well. There are two I will summarize below where he read this into the Torah. The first is on Noah:

Rashi says on the words “he was a righteous perfect man in his generation” - “ish tzaddik tamim”, that “there are some of our rabbis (“rabboseinu”) that interpret this as praise, and others who interpret this as criticism.” 

The spirit of an Ish Tzaddik Tamim is that there will always be those who are dorash lgnai, always critical of him. 

A leader who has no detractors, whom everyone finds shevach for, must not be doing a thing. He is probably flattering, and finding all kinds of ways to have everyone love him. 

A real leader provokes opposition if he pushes Emet - truth. 

Thus, Noach was a Tzaddik Tamim - the sign that this was so is that “there are others who are doresh oto lgnai”!


The second is on Toldot:

Have you ever tried to do something important, to help out other people, and been doubted? Have you ever stepped into the limelight and your motivations are called into question by naysayers and scoffers?

This happened to Abraham, and it will happen to any person who steps up in life. We learn from Abraham how to deal with this, to develop a thick skin.

Parshat Toldot begins with a sentence full of redundancies. It says, “And these are the generations of Isaac son of Abraham, Abraham begot Isaac.”

Having said these are the generations of Abraham, why repeat that Abraham begot Isaac?

Rashi comments: “Because the scoffers of the generation were saying: Sarah became pregnant from Abimelech, etc. What did the Holy One, blessed be He do? He fashioned the facial appearance of Isaac like Abraham’s and everyone testified: Abraham begot Isaac.”

There is a main question asked on this.

He would only start to look like his father once he matured. What about the scoffers during Isaac’s youth. How was that alleviated?

In fact, imagine what those scoffers were saying when they heard that Abraham had taken Isaac to Mt. Moriah to slaughter him! They must have had a field day. They probably thought that Abraham was going to murder someone else’s son, that’s why he was so willing. If this was meant to protect Abraham’s dignity, how did it help?

Why does it happen to Abraham this way? Did Isaac have to be born just nine months after Sarah’s overnight stay in the palace of Abimelech?

Let us look at R. Yose (TB Shabbat 116), who made a very curious wish: “May my share be among those who are suspected [of wrongdoing], but there is no basis [to those suspicions and accusations].” 

Why would he want that?

Because the most efficient test of faith comes when one does a meritorious deed and is accused of having ulterior motives. It takes a tremendous amount of loyalty to G-d, and/or the cause, when that happens.

Abraham, our patriarch, teaches us that such a thing can happen to the best. Yet, we must go on to serve G-d. 

We can’t always stop the scoffers. Maybe eventually, maybe soon enough our kids and our results will prove we were good. But for now, we can show we are leaders of faith and fortitude. We can serve with constant and continual conviction in our goals

 

Umberto Cassuto's Listing of Abraham's 10 Trials

Umberto Cassuto was an fascinating Italian Bible scholar of the 20th century. His innovative approaches to Bible study paved the way for legitimate responses to the already almost universally accepted theory of Documentary Hypothesis, or Higher Criticism. He wrote several responses to this, including a dedicated essay, and he has a few books on direct interpretation of the Bible which bear out his method. They were published in Israel in Hebrew and were soon translated into English. I consider myself lucky that my grandparents allowed me to pick through their library before they moved, and I found these somewhat rare editions of the English edition of Cassuto's "From Adam To Noah" and "From Noah to Abraham." Luckily, on my last trip to Israel, I went to a used book store I frequent in Jerusalem and found an English copy of his notes on Exodus for a cheap price!

Cassuto thinks that the number 10, which the rabbis of the Talmud already picked up on, is a significant motif throughout the story of Noah, the genealogies, and especially regarding Abraham's 10 tests, or trials. The rabbis did not explicate what the 10 trials were, and there are a great many theories as to exactly how to count them. Cassuto (pages 295-296) thinks that there is a pattern for each one that we can use to determine which ones were considered the trials of Abraham:

  • The first trial is preceded by a general divine promise
  • After each trial, he is given some kind of consolation in the form of a renewed divine assurance
  • The last trial, that of the sacrifice of Isaac, receives afterwards a most sublime divine promise
He proceeds to list the trials:

  1. After his communion with God and God's promises in Charan, he is immediately asked to leave his homeland to a new land unknown to him (Lech Lecha). He passes the test (12:1-4) and is thus promised that the land he is in will become his (12:7)
  2. After having, as it were, taken possession of Canaan by walking through it, and building altars to God, he is forced to leave it and go to Egypt. Instead of being protected, they are vulnerable and Sarai is taken. God protects them and she is saved, he leaves with much wealth and Abram calls out in the name of God (13:4)
  3. He was compelled to give up land to Lot for the sake of peace. God promises afterwards that he will have large offspring to replace his nephew (13:5-18)
  4. He had to rescue Lot in a hard fight against kings. God promises him much abundance and many descendants (15)
  5. His pregnant maidservant and the only hope for offspring is forced to run away, but she comes back (16). God promises that he will have another son, Isaac, and that Sarah would have him, and the covenant would be fulfilled through him (17)
  6. He submits to circumcision (17), and he is privileged to be visited by three "men" where the promises of a son are confirmed (18:1-15)
  7. Lot is again in jeopardy in Sodom, and Lot is saved for Abraham's sake (18:17-19:28)
  8. Sarah is taken by Abimelech the king of Gerar at a time that she is very pregnant with Isaac. This is perilous and she could lose the baby. She is saved and Abraham is solaced when Isaac is born (20:1-21:7)
  9. He is forced by Sarah to exile Hagar and Ishmael, his first born son, but he is solaced by a successful covenant with his neighbors for peace and a new sanctuary at Beer-Sheba and proclaiming God's name (21:8-34)
  10. Lastly, the sacrifice of Isaac. God presents him with the most comprehensive promises of his future and all the previous promises are recounted.
He notes that this progresses from easier to harder, and for the most part the blessings correspond to the difficulty.

He also notes that there is a definite parallel between his listing of the trials. The first is a trial to leave his father's house, and the last is a bid farewell to his son. They are said in a similar way (Go for yourself from your country, vs., Go for yourself to the land of Moriah). And the blessings are similarly phrased. The second and the third trials also parallel the eight and the ninth, respectively; the second and eight are when Sarah is taken, that's pretty obvious parallel. The third and ninth are parallel in that the third he is spearated from his nephew Lot, and in the ninth he is separated from Hagar and Ishmael. I would add that according to this, the third is where he gives up land for peace and that was a trial, while in the ninth the successful treaty was a solace. In both sets a new sanctuary is built. The fourth and the seventh are pretty obvious, both times Lot is in peril and is saved. And lastly, the fifth and sixth line up (not so well in my opinion), as he writes as "both appertain to Ishmael and Isaac". The only real parallel is the reassurance, not the trial, specifically regarding Isaac's birth, which are parallel in both, which may be what he means.

He goes on to describe the reassurances as very carefully progressing. Thus, he goes on, the stories are therefore obviously of a cohesive whole out of the raw material of Abraham's life. To Cassuto, this parallelism is obvious proof that Abraham's story was written as "an integrated and harmonious" narrative, "arranged in all its parts and details."

I think its significant that Cassuto sees one of the tests as giving up land for peace. It was difficult then as it is now.

This is a somewhat unique approach and is worth the read.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Bamidbar Pshat

I was asked this past Shavuot weekend to discuss issues of pshat in the 2nd and 4th aliyahs of Bamidbar before the Torah reading. This is the fruit of that:

Bamidbar 2nd Aliya:

Summary: After giving us the numbers for each tribe, the Torah gives us the grand total: 603,550. This number, however, does not include the Levites. Moses was commanded by G‑d not to include the holy tribe in the general census. Instead, the Levites are assigned the following holy tasks: dismantling, carrying, and re-erecting the Tabernacle whenever the Jews traveled, and camping around the Sanctuary, keeping guard over it and its vessels.

1:20 - Seforno picks up on the fact that Reuven is declared as the bechor, even though the rights of two pieces of land actually went to Joseph instead! Why? Because though inheritnace is human, forgiveness is divine. Meaning, because he did teshuva, from the persepctive of heavan, he was the bechor. But not from a human perspective. We learn that there can be a difference between the two. When we read the Torah today, we remember that we are reading God’s history of man, not man’s history of God.

1:21: The numbers are almost all rounded - just look at Reuven, which has 46,500. The Chida, in Rav Chaim Yosef David Azulay, in his Pnei David asks how the numbers could possibly be so exact to the roundest 10. He answers that the Torah is not always so exacting in its numbers. It asks us to count 50 days, when we only actually count 49, etc. Emet LeYaakov, Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky, suggests that heads of the army were appointed by 10, 50, 100s, etc. Sarei Asarot, Sarei Chamishim, etc, which we find in parshat yitro. And we also see in II Kings 1:9-10, that each company of army soldiers were cometimes by fifty, “Then he sent to Elijah a captain with his company of fifty men.” The problem with this, says Rav Yaakov, is that later, in Pinchas, Reuven is 43,730. He suggests that perhaps 20 men had joined Korach, and that was the missing 20. Rabbi Neustadt, in his footnotes to Emet Liyaakov, says that though Rav Yaakov came up with this during his youth, he was afraid to say it until he saw some support in the Meshech Chachma on Pinchas.

It is interesting to note that the total number for everyone comes out to more than 600,000. This number gets some play even in halacha, especially as to what is defined as a public area that one may not carry in on Shabbat, even with an eruv. Some have raised questions as to the enormity of the number, which, given what archeologists and historians can figure out, is much, much larger than comparable nations.

Rav Jeremy Wieder, of YU, teaches Bible there. I have heard him many times support the idea of Kenneth Kitchen that when the Torah means eleph, a thousand, it actually means the same root for “alluf”, battalions, or groups in the army. Meaning, it was not 600,000, but rather 600 troups. This gets into trouble at some points in the count when the sums don’t make sense. But be that as it may, there is room to quibble about it in terms of pshat.

An easier, religious answer, is that Jews will be the first to admit that the numbers are supernatural - we were promised to be greater than the sand in the sea and the stars in the sky.  Uvnei Yisrael, paru vayishr'tzu, vayirbu vayaatzmu bim'od m'od, as the midrash explains, there were many times the normal amount of births in Irael in Egypt. Meaning, its not meant to fit into what other nation populations of the time.

1:32 - Ramban points out that though here that though Menashe is the bechor, Ephraim is mentioned first, and even Yosef’s name is attached to him, for several reasons. One is that his tribe was the bearer of the flag, and he was given the rights of the bechor through the switching of birkat yaakov. Also, his number is bigger. This explains why in Arvot Moav, that count has menashe first, because at that time their number is bigger. When it came to meraglim, though ephraim is mentioned first, yosef’s name is attached to menashe. Why? Ramban’s first suggestion is fascinating. he says that at least homiletically, since Yosef spoke lashon hara against the brothers, he was attached to a tribe that spoke lashon hara about the land. He never broke away from this connection.

1:42 - All the other tribes say “Lbnei…” and yet here with regard to Naftali it says just “bnei”. The Baal haTurim suggests that its because Naftali had many more women than men. When you look at Naftali’s blessing, there is even a hint to this in Yaakov’s beracha to him: he is called a loose deer, the words used אַיָּלָה שְׁלֻחָה--הַנֹּתֵן, eleph, shin, heh. Indeed, Rabbeinu Bachya says this is why he is described in the feminine tense in the beracha.

However, there is a tradition that it is the opposite, that they had more men than women and that is why it emphasized “bnei”. We see this in Midrash hagadol, and Yalkut Reuveni, and others.

1:49 - Why wasn’t Levi part of the count? Rashi suggests first they were put apart because they were the “king’s men” so to speak. They should therefore be counted separately, apart from the regular people. His second suggestion is that most of the people would die in the desert. Better count those who wouldn’t die separately. Rashbam suggests that it is because the count was only for the war, and they are not part of the war effort. They were counted separately for the service. Seforno and Ramban points out that Levi had no Nasi appointed for them, and therefore Moshe wasn’t sure what to do, so he held off to wait for God’s command. God commanded they should not be included. Seforno has an interesting phrase, that they were a tribe that had not “prepared themselves for being gathered.” Levi were individuals who did not take to peer pressure. Perhaps this could explain why they weren’t part of the sin of the golden calf. In this, Rashi and Seforno see the same aspect.

1:54 - Bnei Yisrael do all that which God commanded. What did God command to Bnei Yisrael? Wasn’t it just the leviim who were command to construct and reconstruct the mishkan as they traveled? The only command given to Bnei Yisrael was that they shouldnt touch it under threat of death. Ibn Ezra suggests that this is indeed what the pasuk refers to. But how did they do that? They were passively not doing something. It would seem that they affirmed that they would hold themselves back from touching it, and perhaps made (literal) fences for such purposes. If anyone has an answer to this I’d like to hear it.

Fourth Aliyah: The Levites are appointed to serve in the Tabernacle, guard its vessels and assist the priests with their Tabernacle duties.This is given to the Levites, and the bechor needs to be redeemed.

3:1 - Sanhedrin 19b, and Rashi brings down, that its calls them the offpsring of Moshe and Aaron, yet only speaks about Aaron’s children. This teaches us, says the gemara, that one who teaches Torah to someone, it is considered as if he is their father. It should be pointed out that the Rashbam and Ramban both think that on a pshat level, this is uneccessary. Moshe’s family is subsumed under the Amramites, who are mentioned later in pasuk 27. In fact, says the Rambam, if one looks at how Divrei haYamim mention Moshe and Aaron, it follows this exact formula as the Amramites. Aaron’s children are spoken of at length because they were the kohanim. Ramban has an interesting understanding of what the gemara is doing. On a pshat level, everything makes sense. But in drash, the fact that it says “these are the generations of moshe and aharon,” when it could have said “these are the generations of aharon,” and later, “these are the generations of moshe”, allow the rabbis, says Ramban, to find a hint to this idea in it. The last words in the comment of the Ramban are “for the Torah is explicit, but it also hints.” The question to think about is, are these hints embedded in the Torah from the start, or is the Ramban saying that we can draw on irregularities for our own lessons?

The Netziv asks, what does it mean that becasue he taught aharon’s children, he was called their father? Shouldn’t he be the father to all of Israel, since he taught them all Torah? He thinks that the hint is rather the fact that the end of the verse says “the words that God spoke et moshe,” and not “el moshe”. There is a closer relationship, it seems, between what God spoke to Moshe and what he taught to the sons of Aharon. They really carried out what they were meant to carry out, as the pesukim go on to explain. He fathered them, he fashioned them into who they were supposed to be, because they didn’t just learn from him, they acted according to his teachings, which couldn’t necessarily be said about the rest of klal yisrael.

It would seem this could explain a strange thing. In Sanhedrin 99b. the Talmud learns out the same statement, that one who teaches someone Torah is as if he fathered him, but its not from this Pasuk. It’s learned from Avarahm and Sarah, who in bereshit 7:5 are described as “creating souls in Charan”. They didn’t make golems, they taught monotheism and that is considered having fashioned them. Why do we need two pesukim, ours here and the one in Bereshit, to teach us the same thing? My grandfather, Rav Chaim Zev Bomzer, alav hashalom, once noted that we never hear of the souls made in Charan ever again. Where’d they go? He answered that its well and good to teach someone Torah. Sure, you’ve made him a new person. previously, the people in Charan were pagans, and now they saw the beauty of Moral Monotheism. But did they stick to it? Did they follow through in their own lives? They were inspired in the moment, but to act according to moral principles is hard, to follow a regimen and to keep it. They disappeared after a while. Never heard from again. But what we see here is that when you teach someone, and they follow through, it is truly a father-son kind of relationship where you have fashioned him and set him on a path. That was the relationship Moshe had with Aaron’s children, and is embedded in the pshat - it was an “et” relationship instead of an “el” relationship, and the description after of the sons following through with what Moshe taught.

3:12 - This aliyah is all about what the levites are specifically supposed to do in the Mishkan. And then it states at the end that “vehayu li haleviim” - God says the leviim are consecrated to him to do the service in the mishkan, instead of the firstborns. What does it mean, instead of the firstborns? Rashi,,based on the midrash, says that the firstborns lost their chance to serve in the mikdash because they were part of the chet haegel, while the leviim were not. So they took over the job.

I have had some questions with this accepted and assumed explanation that I’d like to share with you. I believe I have come up with a new, pshat based understanding of this that I have not seen anywhere else. If someone has seen this suggestion somewhere, I would be very excited to see it.

The questions are these: Firstly, if the firstborns were originally supposed to do the service, why is this never mentioned before? Why do we have no evidence in the pesukim for this original plan? Not only that, but if such a huge switch in jobs in klal yisrael happened after the chet haegel, wouldn’t we expect the Torah to tell us at that point instead of the Torah assuming the leviim took over and then explaining in hints why this is true? Why isn’t this story made explicit? And doesn’t the Torah also believe that the children are not punished for the sins of the father? How can it be that the bechorot became pasul for the service because of the chet haegel, and this applied for all generations?

Each of these questions I think can be answered within the assumption of the chet haegel narrative regarding the first borns. But I think, by force of the questions, we could maybe answer something else within pshat. It goes like this.

In the ancient world, indeed throughout the Biblical literature, people were sacrificing their firstborn children. It was fairly common. Not just their children, but specifically their firstborns. The king of Moav in 2 Kings 3:27 sacrificed his firstborn child. Micah asks,  'Shall I give my firstborn for my sin, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?' (Micah 6:7), and God says all he wants is acts of lovingkindness and justice. There’s some evidence in Yechezkel for the practice as well.

But the Torah prohibits it, completely, children and firstborns included.

Since the prevailing culture considered the firstborns “hekdesh” so to speak, consecrated to God, the Torah does a nice switcheroo - it takes the levites in their stead, and makes them hekdesh, consecrated to the mikdash. But not as the sacrifices, but rather the ones performing the service. That is why the pasuk says the levites took over for the bechors - in terms of prevailing culture. As pasuk 13 says, God considers the firstborns his, but implants the levites in their stead. The concept the Torah conveys is that parents cannot have absolute control over their children, their lives. It puts an end to it, in a way that everyone living at that time would recognize, without being overly counterculture. It needs to be accepted by the people. This is why there is pidyon haben, for the bechor specifically. He needs to be redeemed from hekdesh, so to speak.

An Alternative Reading of Maimonides on the Sin of Meribah

Maimonides and the Sin of Meribah


Maimonides, in the fourth chapter of his Eight Chapters, posits that a major endeavor of the individual is to gain moral perfection through the probing of one’s actions and psychology and consequently fixing the defects. “The moral man will constantly examine his characteristics, weigh his actions, and daily investigate his psychic condition… Likewise, he is bound to be mindful of his defects, and constantly endeavor to remedy them.” He goes on to say, quoting “the philosophers” as well as Scripture, that it is rare indeed to find a person who started off perfect, without need to perfect himself, and “it is impossible for any man to be free from all faults.”
This is the way he introduces the sin of Moses at the rock of Meribah. Maimonides states that Moses’ sin was one of anger, apparently an example of a moral defect.
All this (God said) although the sin of Moses was only that he departed from the moral mean of patience to the extreme of wrath when he exclaimed,"Hear now ye rebels" etc., yet for this God found fault with him that such a man as he should show anger in the presence of the entire community of Israel, where wrath is unbecoming. This was a profanation of God's name, because men imitated the words and conduct of Moses, hoping thereby to attain temporal and eternal happiness. How could he, then, allow his wrath free play, since it is a bad characteristic, arising,as we have shown, from an evil psychological condition?...


So, when Moses said or did anything, they subjected his words or actions to the most searching examination. Therefore, when they saw that he was becoming angry, they said, "He has no moral imperfection! He must know that God is angry with us for demanding water, and that we have stirred up the wrath of God, for otherwise he would not be angry with us". However, we do not find that when God spoke to Moses about this matter, He was angry, but on the contrary, said, "Take the staff . . . and give drink to the congregation and their cattle".


It seems to me that, according to Maimonides, while the sin of Moses certainly was his mistake in becoming angry, it was also the result of the anger, which was a public "profanation of God's name". This second problem is a strange one for Maimonides to mention. What do we care what the people thought, in terms of Moses’ own moral perfection or imperfection? As I noted above, the purpose of Maimonides bringing in the example of the sin of Moses is to show that even the greatest of prophets is not completely perfect, at least not at the time of the story of Meribah. One can suggest that he is just mentioning a secondary “sin”, a profanation of the name of God, in that it caused wrong opinions in the people, but not an immoral quality in Moses himself. More likely in my eyes, it is indeed another aspect of the problem of anger specifically in Moses, because someone who is considered worthy of a reflection of the divine can't make mistakes like that.
Nahmanides on Numbers 20 vehemently disagrees with the notion specifically that Moses’ sin was his excessive wrath, for several reasons, both within Scripture as well as logically based. He presents other places in the Torah where Moses stated something similar to “Hear now ye rebels”, see Deuteronomy 9:24. And a very different problem is that Aaron is mentioned as a sinner as well in this story, yet what did Aaron do wrong? Many other objections are noted there. His own understanding is that Moses implied that Moses and Aaron would be providing the water, by saying “we” instead of “God”, and the whole point was for the people to see the providence of God in this matter.
In addition, I would also note that Maimonides himself seems to contradict himself when it comes to anger. In Deot 1:4 he states that:
"The upright path is the middle path of all the qualities known to man... How does one do this? He should not be a person of rage who easily angers nor a corpse with no feelings. Rather, he should be in the middle: He should only anger over serious matters regarding which anger is appropriate -- so that the same offense will not be repeated."
So there are appropriate cases of anger. Yet in Deot 2:3, he states that:
“So too is anger an exceedingly bad quality; one from which it is proper that one distance himself to an extreme. A person should train himself not to anger even on a matter regarding which anger is appropriate. And if a person wants to instill awe upon his children -- or if he is an administrator and wants to anger at the community members in order that they mend their ways, he should only feign anger in their presence in order to castigate them, but his mind should be composed within. He should act as one impersonating an [angry] man while not being angry himself.”
Maimonides himself believes that the appearance of anger by an individual in order to correct the actions of others, such as to teach a student/child, so long as it is pretend. So, either, there is no problem with Moses being angry so long as he stays within the middle path. Or, we can at least assume that Moses was merely pretending to be angry, but wasn’t really as such. So what really was the problem of Moses’ anger in this case?
I would posit, then, that the real sin was not the anger itself, but the moral defect in a person who gets to a level where people conclude some truths from their actions. Aaron was also on this level, and was together with Moses at this time, and did not undo these mistaken notions in the people. Meaning, Moses moral level was so high that the people assumed that since he has no imperfection, he must be actually angry only because God was actually angry.
The question is whether the theological problem was that God was angry specifically about this complaint, or that God ever gets angry. We know that Maimonides denies that God would ever get angry, since he views it as a moral defect that could not be present in a perfect being. The Ritva, in defending Maimonides in his Sefer Zikaron, states that, “When Maimonides said that God did not get angry, he wasn't saying that there was no wrongdoing on Israel's part. God forbid. No, he was saying that they sinned, but for this particular sin, God was not angry with them.”  So Ritva opines that it is the former problem. But it is unclear why that is a problem, for the people to believe that God was angry in a case where He was in fact not. So I think Ritva is probably wrong in that respect.
More likely, Maimonides saw in Moses’ action that he taught the people that God could get angry. Because otherwise, why did Moses get angry? “He has no moral imperfection!”, Maimonides puts into their mouths. What is Maimonides saying here? If they believed that Moses had no moral imperfection, why would they conclude that God had a moral imperfection? I think that to tie this into Maimonides introduction to this section, and to tie this into the theme as a whole, that the people did not conclude a theological wrong in God, that God gets angry. It goes further than that. They used the fact that Moses got angry and, consequently that means that God was angry, and given that both are perfectly moral beings, that anger is not a moral imperfection.
This is what, I believe, Maimonides meant to say Moses’ sin was. He accidentally taught the people that anger is not a moral defect, when according to Maimonides, it is one of the biggest moral defect, that one should avoid at all costs. His sin was demonstrating a moral defect, even if he himself did not feel anger, at a level where the people would make moral conclusions from it. This was a problem because then people could not perfect their own actions. As he stated above, a main endeavor is to fix one’s action. Yet, if one doesn’t believe anger is a moral defect (such that it would be absent in God or a divine man like Moses/Aaron), how could they ever remedy that situation?
“This was a profanation of God's name, because men imitated the words and conduct of Moses, hoping thereby to attain temporal and eternal happiness. How could he, then, allow his wrath free play, since it is a bad characteristic, arising,as we have shown, from an evil psychological condition?” In my reading of this, it was not in particular that he appeared angry. It was that he was not allowed to appear angry. Anger is always a moral defect, “arising… from an evil psychological condition.” He allowed himself to show anger, which had consequences as to the people’s understanding of anger’s status as a morally imperfect state. How can a man be expected, as a major human endeavor, to examine his faults, if he is unaware they are faults at all?

Soloveitchik Final - Revel

1)


“Confrontation,” an essay which Rabbi Soloveitchik published in Tradition journal in 1964, has been subject to enormous dispute in several areas. Firstly, what is Rabbi Soloveitchik’s ultimate view on the subject of inter-faith dialogue, and does Confrontation accord with his other works or is it an anomaly? Secondly, what was his motivation for writing it, and does this impact how seriously to take his position today? Thirdly, if his position does indeed emerge from his philosophical outlook, how do we view that in terms of his halakhic position on the matter?


Rabbi Moses Meiselman takes the position that Rabbi Soloveitchik believed inter-faith dialogue to be problematic for the religious Jew. There are many statements Rabbi Soloveitchik makes that would indicate this approach. For example, Rabbi Soloveitchik states that, “The confrontation should occur not at a theological but at a mundane human level… The great encounter between God and man is a wholly personal private affair incomprehensible to the outsider - even to a brother of the same faith community. The divine message is incommunicable since it defies all standardized media of information and all objective categories. If the powerful community of the many feels like remedying an embarrassing human situation or redressing an historic wrong, it should do so at the human ethical level. However, if the debate should revolve around matters of faith, then one of the confronters will be impelled to avail himself of the language of his opponent. This in itself would mean surrender of individuality and distinctiveness." This is most obviously stating that theological dialogue is nonsensical because there is no common ground, “objective categories” for people to relate to. Indeed, it can only create a common ground where there is none, and this in turn “would mean surrender of individuality and distinctiveness.”


Rabbi Soloveitchik had spent a considerable amount of space in the essay describing the duality of man as an individual and as part of creation. Unconfronted man is part of creation, and therefore chases it insofar as it can provide him pleasure. But confronted man, sees himself as lonely, an individual, and unable to relate his unique and individual identity to others. This conflict is inside every individual, and it is also part of the Jewish people as a whole. The Jews are part of creation, and therefore related to all other nations. But, they are also unique, coming from a perspective that does not accord with other peoples, and therefore cannot relate on a non-mundane level. So, Rabbi Meiselman and others argue that Rabbi Soloveitchik was completely against any kind of theological dialogue with others.


Unfortunately, Rabbi Meiselman also goes further than this. As pointed out by Lawrence Kaplan, Rabbi Meiselman claims that the “insider’s view” of Rabbi Soloveitchik was that the latter was always “exceedingly parochial,” and that “I do not believe that one can find a single instance where the Rav was involved in any of the universal issues of his day.” Besides the fact that the quote I brought above explicitly advocates for “confrontation” at a “mundane human level,” Kaplan points to the obligation to be part of the universal community while maintaining the “covenantal community.” And, he points out, the Rav believed the lack of confrontation with the non-Jewish community was “unfortunate” and due to the way the non-Jewish community has approached the Jewish people historically. “We are opposed to a philosophy of isolationism,” writes the Rav. However, Rabbi Meiselman claims this covers all dialogue, writing, “When Pope John XXIII opened dialogue with the Jews, the Rav viewed this as a serious danger to Judaism, and declared that no such dialogue pursued…. Despite the opposition of a few Orthodox rabbis the Rav’s position carried the day and almost without exception no dialogues have been conducted between Orthodox rabbis and the Catholic Church.” Kaplan rightly argues that the Rav never meant to include all dialogue, only that which is religious, or theological in nature. But the Rav felt even ethical dialogue was appropriate. Indeed, as it came to the world of “humanitarian and cultural endeavors,” writes the Rav, communication “is desirable and even essential.”


To Meiselman, the motivation for the Rav to write “Confrontation” was what he saw as a danger of the Pope opening dialogue with the Jews, a religious concern. Others think it had to do with the Rav’s background and his dealing with his “Brisker” background. Kaplan doesn’t mention David Singer and Moshe Sokol, but they too saw “Confrontation” as not fitting in with the Rav’s general approach to modernity, chalking this up to vestiges of “Brisker” conservatism.


Hartman, on the other hand, believed that the Rav meant to limit not theological dialogue, but theological dialogue by certain people. Perhaps this could be considered a “social policy” approach. For Hartman, people who do not recognize the dual nature of the Jews, who have a unique perspective, are in danger of running Judaism’s uniqueness aground with acquiescence to certain principles that Judaism does not in fact share with other faiths. This is why the Rav is concerned about the “unfortunate” state of events that Christians have approach Jews with enmity, which to Hartman means they approached Jews with the single confrontation which is the assumption that everything can be subject to finding common ground between faiths. It was only people like the Rav himself who could maintain Jewish singularity while discussing even theological matters between faiths.


However, it seems to me, as discussed in class, that the Rav’s conservative approach to interfaith emerges from his philosophy, and would apply to all members of religious faiths. Meaning, it is very much in line with his general philosophical take on Judaism and perspectivism, and this extends to the notion of the very inability to talk about faith with any degree of similarity between two people of faith. The engagement in faith dialogue is a philosophical error. Indeed, the Rav applies this even to talking to people of one’s own faith community! The first quote above says this exactly, “The great encounter between God and man is a wholly personal private affair incomprehensible to the outsider - even to a brother of the same faith community.” What does this mean?


The Rav consistently apologizes for describing his own perspective on Jewish philosophy. In introduction to prayer he says that he does “not claim universal validity for my conclusions.” He hopes only to allow people to gain insight from his “clear language”, describing his individual experiences of prayer in such a way that it would allow others to gain benefit. He does this too in Lonely Man of Faith, where he states, “Before I go any further, I want to make the following reservation. Whatever I am about to say is to be seen only as a modest attempt on the part of a man of faith to interpret his spiritual perceptions and emotions in modern theologico-philosophical categories. My interpretive gesture is completely subjective and lays no claim to representing a definitive Halakhic philosophy.” It seems to me that this is one aspect of his perspectivist philosophy. Thus, I believe, even among other Jews, it is impossible to relate the perspective of one to another. Yet the Rav does not hold back from doing so in this sense, because it can inform the other Jew about his own observance through the delineation of clear categories. But what can the Jew do in this to help a Christian, who bears no similarity in his conception, let’s say, to what prayer is and its experience. Creating Jewish categories of prayer and typological categories would not aid the Christian very much. But it goes beyond that as well.


This is most fully expressed in Halakhic Mind. This is where the Rav understand religious philosophy as similar in process to the process of scientific theory, where data creates a theoretical framework, and then the data is reinterpreted using that theoretical framework. He sees this especially apparent in quantum physics. For Jews, it is the Halakha that is the data, the parts, in which the whole can be formulated, the theory of Judaism, and thus the data can then be “reconstructed”. The implication of this is that no other system can impinge on the Halakhic-philosophic system. Dialogue, in this sense, would be nonsensical and cannot be pursued.


It should be noted that “Confrontation” quotes nary a single halakhic source. It would seem that this is not a halakhic issue, but an issue that faces the system as a whole.


2)


Yoram Hazony, in his article, “A Bombshell from the Rav,” posits that “Emergence of Ethical Man” connotes a completely naturalistic religious approach from the Rav. He marshals several quotes and concepts from the book to prove this. What we shall do in this response is discuss two of his proofs, and see if it aligns or disaligns with other works of the Rav.


The first question is what the Rav meant by saying that the naturalist philosophy of man provides space for the religious act. As Hazony quotes from the beginning of the book, “[T]he widespread opinion that within the perspective of anthropological naturalism there is no place for the religious act, for the relatedness of man to eternity and infinity, is wrong…. [M]an-as-animal needs religious faith and commitment to a higher authority.” To Hazony, this is a break from many religious thinkers before the Rav, who saw man as a break from the order of nature. This already indicates that man is not special.


It is my opinion (and I have not seen this stated elsewhere), that part one of Emergence of Ethical Man is referring to only one typological category, as he is wont to do in so much of his writings. It is “natural man.” We must note that Hazony sneakily leaves out the preceding clause that “Perhaps more than man-as-a-divine person [needs religious faith]...” That is, he is merely saying that religious faith exists for both aspects of man. We are thus shown that the Rav acknowledges two typologies. Given the typological categories that the Rav creates in Lonely Man of Faith, it seems that “natural man” is mostly parallel to Adam the first, who is creative man but very much based in creation. Indeed, the Rav conspicuously completely skips over explaining man according to Genesis 2 in the first part of Emergence of Ethical Man! Notice, he only explicates Genesis 1 on page 9 and on, and 70-76.


Adam the first, of course, has religious faith. But he is not beyond creation itself. He is of the naturalist sort, where the Rav’s careful words in describing Adam the first’s “image of God” fit into. He writes in Lonely Man of Faith, “There is no doubt that the term “image of God” in the first account refers to man’s inner charismatic endowment as a creative being.” Notice his deliberate avoidance of mentioning who endowed him with such. He is drawn to community, “a natural one” according to the Rav. Within Adam the first, “the primordial urge to come together in face of opposition is shared by both animal and biological man.” Adam the first finds dignity in his control of nature. This is consistent with his description of the role of the image of God on page 75 that it “signifies man’s awareness of himself as a biological being and the state of being informed of his natural drives,” and on page 47, that he is merely a more advanced being on the continuum of “plant-animal-man.”


We might also accord this with his typological category of cognitive man in Halakhic Man. Cognitive man, with his scientific mind searching out reality, would also conclude that man is merely on the continuum among other forms of life. There is no indication he is bereft of religious faith, or that the door of “commitment to a higher authority” is closed to him. The Rav compares cognitive man with the man of Greek philosophy (page 6). The Greek philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle had religious faith. Also, he recognizes that the paradox exists within philosophies like Maimon and Cohen that acknowledges an absolute existence, even though it would seem outside the realm of cognitive man. However, Adam the second/man-as-a-divine person is ostensibly homo religiosus. And that type within man is not naturalist at all. He seeks transcendentalism, to go beyond this world to the next. It is true that the Rav criticizes this aspect, but he seems to incorporate it into what we could see as the ideal person according to the Rav, Halakhic Man, who seeks to use the world for divine, Halakhic purposes.


And indeed, in And From There You Shall Seek, towards the beginning, the Rav writes of two types of religious experiences, that of natural scientific progress and gaining knowledge of the world. But there is an unnatural type of revelation that shocks us. Thus, one can be a natural being, conquering earth, and gaining religious experience in the process. But it is not the whole of man.


Thus, Hazony is trying to use just the naturalistic aspect of man as proof that the Rav saw the whole of man this way, which ignores the Rav’s typological categories that are not explicitly presented in Emergence.


Only once he begins with the second part, the emergence of ethical man, does the Rav begins with Genesis 2, and therefore with man-as-divine person. This is why he states that because “biological motivation is neutral as far as ethical standards are concerned,” God must involve Himself in the process of guiding man. This is not naturalistic. Man is unique in terms of ethical standards that are God-driven. The Rav states that the ethical imperative is “unknown to natural man.”

Ethics, which the Rav states is God-given, only makes sense within Lonely Man of Faith’s Adam the second. The Rav states there that regarding Adam the first, “His mind is questing not for the true, but for the pleasant and functional, which are rooted in the esthetical, not the noetic-ethical, sphere.” It is true that he can formulate an ethical standard, but the Rav criticizes it as purely hedonistically based: “Adam distinguishes himself not only in the realm of scientific theory but in that of the ethico-moral and aesthetic gestures as well. He legislates norms which he invests with validity and great worth. He fashions beautiful forms and considers the encounter with them ennobling and cleansing, exhilarating and enriching.” This reminds us of unconfronted man of “Confrontation”, who applies his mind to beauty and pleasure. But Adam the second is the only one that is concerned with ethics in terms of a God-given message, and therefore, is the only one that it would make sense to refer to when referring to its emergence in man. Thus, we must say that insofar as the Rav made statements that seem naturalistic, we should be careful when examining which aspect of man he is dealing with.

(I wrote a response paper with a similar point)-


There is some argument between Yarom Hazony and R. Gil Student as to what could change a major position of the Rav. Hazony points out that in Halakhic Mind, the Rav set course to create a philosophy of religion out of the Halakha, having written there that, “Out of the sources of halacha, a new world view awaits formulation.” The Rav knew that he was differing from almost every other religious Jewish thinker on this, because he was willing to eschew medieval philosophical argumentation and get back to what he considered the only authentic Jewish documentation of Jewish belief: the Halakha. He writes,
“[M]ost modern Jewish philosophers have adopted a very unique method. The source of knowledge, for them, is medieval Jewish philosophy…. [However,] we know that the most central concepts of medieval Jewish philosophy are rooted in ancient Greek and medieval Arabic thought and are not Jewish in origin at all. It is impossible to reconstruct a unique Jewish world perspective out of alien material.”
What is unique for the Rav was finding in the halakha itself some philosophy of religion. On this, Hazony notes that the Rav does not, in fact, base his anthropological worldview on halakha, but rather on Scripture. He writes,
“Yet the new concept of man so carefully constructed in The Emergence of Ethical Man is not, for the most part, derived from what we would usually consider Jewish legal sources. Instead, R. Soloveitchik relies overwhelmingly on the teachings of the narrative portions of the Hebrew Bible, especially Genesis and Exodus.”
Hazony argues that the Rav did not mean it when he said that Halakha was the sole material to be used when reconstructing Judaism’s religious philosophy. Instead,
…[T]he Jewish law is understood as an extensive, practical elaboration of a concept of man that is already fleshed out in the biblical narratives prior to the giving of the law. Biblical narrative is thus found to be the primary vehicle for giving expression to Jewish philosophy, which serves as the original source and wellspring for what later becomes halacha, Jewish law.
This is a major point, said in just a few lines. Hazony argues the Rav believes Scripture as the “primary vehicle” for Jewish philosophy, and in some sense inspires halacha which came later. Halakha is somehow informed by Scripture’s worldview. The general question is how the Rav defined “halakha”, how he defined “Scripture’s worldview”, and if such a statement holds up philosophically and historically. I am still unsure about this.
R. Gil Student disputes the claim that the Rav was necessarily saying anything about the halakha when he decided to interpret Scripture in the Emergence of Ethical Man. Firstly, he states, the book does indeed deal with some laws, such as zeraim  and tumah. So halakha is not completely absent from the book. Secondly, this claim can be said about other writings of the Rav that no one claims about. As he puts it, “Isn’t The Lonely Man of Faith based on the two Creation narratives and Kol Dodi Dofek on Shir Ha-Shirim?... Where is this proposed new worldview that supposedly emerges from halakhah?”
In my own opinion, I agree with Hazony that the Rav believed that Scripture is the interpretive basis upon which halakha is formulated. However, I would argue that Scripture is not “the primary vehicle” for Jewish philosophy. As the Rav made clear in Halakhic Mind, it is only halakha that has this role. However, it cannot be denied that halakha is anchored into Scripture. The Talmud seeks out support from it to accept or reject certain laws in Judaism, and so Biblical tales inform halakha. But what I posit the Rav is expressing here is that halakha is independent of Scripture. Halakhic Man, for the Rav, takes reality and accords it through the a priori conclusions of halakha. Scripture for the Rav, I posit, only describes man’s nature as it is and does no further work. But halakha, and halakhic man, must deal with that reality and transform man from simply cognitive man, or simply homo religiosus, and (perhaps unsuccessfully) synthesize it into the Halakhic Man.
The Rav, in many places, denies Scripture any place in scientific debate. Indeed, in Emergence of Ethical Man itself, page 5, he thinks it is a task in vain, easily done but purposeless in nature: “Indeed, one of the most annoying scientific facts which the modern homo religiosus encounters is the problem of evolution and creation.” I think that he uses “homo religiosus” specifically here, because this would not present a problem for the Halakhic Man.
Indeed, I believe that is why the Rav states in Lonely Man of Faith,
“I have never been seriously troubled by the problem of the Biblical doctrine of creation vis-a-vis the scientific story of evolution at both the cosmic and the organic levels, nor have I been perturbed by the confrontation of the mechanistic interpretation of the human mind with the Biblical Spiritual concept of man. I have not been perplexed by the impossibility of fitting the mystery of revelation into the framework of historical empiricism…”

Yet, the Rav considers Lonely Man of Faith to be one of “Halakhic philosophy,” which he states explicitly in his “apology” before he begins, stating, “My interpretive gesture is completely subjective and lays no claim to representing a definitive Halakhic philosophy.” I believe that though he lays out the typological figures of Adam one and Adam two through a reading of Scripture, what he refers to with that is the last part of the essay, which focuses on halakha itself.

The God of Beowulf

The God of Beowulf never speaks to anyone in the epic, never shows himself to anyone. Yet, they continue to believe in Him. The story speaks of horrible evil and the heroes who destroy them, all the while thanking God and attributing their success to him, even as they themselves die. How does the poet deal with religious question of how there can be a just god, and horrific evil?

The question is compounded when we find that Grendel's motivation for killing dozens of men is how much they praised God for creating heaven and earth:

Then a powerful demon, a prowler through the dark,
nursed a hard grievance. It harrowed him
to hear the din of the loud banquet
every day in the hall, the harp being struck
and the clear song of a skilled poet
telling with mastery of man's beginnings,
how the Almighty had made the earth
a gleaming plain girdled with waters;
in His splendour He set the sun and the moon
to be earth's lamplight, lanterns for men,
and filled the broad lap of the world
with branches and leaves; and quickened life
in every other thing that moved. (86-98)

How can it be that the men in the hall are so terribly murdered because of their praise of God? How could a just god allow that?

In fact, we learn in lines 102-114 that God was directly responsible for the creation of beings like Grendel, offspring of the biblical Cain.

Hrothgar himself admits the inexplicable to Beowulf - that God could have stopped these horrible attacks, yet has not:
...My household-guard
are on the wane, fate sweeps the away
into Grendel's clutches-
but God can easily
halt these raids and harrowing attacks! (475-479)

When Beowulf finally defeats the beast, Hrothgar thanks God (929-955) for saving them, as does Beowulf (978).
We then find out soon enough that their thanks are in vain - Grendel's mother attacks in anger over the death of her son. Beowulf's action does not go unpunished. After another bout against a monster cursed by God, and success, Beowulf once again thanks God (1665-1677).

I believe at the end, when Beowulf lays dying at the hand of the dragon, and still thanks God for having successfully free the treasure laid there and defeated the dragon, we see a hidden critique of giving thanks to God every time something good happens. The only reason Beowulf lay dying was because of his pride - he thought he could do it alone. This harkens back to the warning Hrothgar gives him about choosing eternal reward and staying away from the pride that so many other rulers fall to. And he fell to it! He was only killed because of his arrogance. God did not step in, and he never seems to step in. There is no miraculous saving. His thanking of God is foolish.